The First Trick-or-Treat

Here's Lola, prepping for her debut.

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If heaven truly exists
I believe that it would have an unlimited number of dog parks.
Wait. Scratch that.

More like wild open spaces filled with trees and streams and logs and all sorts of things that contain the scents of past adventures.
Squirrels and rabbits sprinting, always ahead of their pursuer, only close enough to provide the chase.

There would be dogs in cars, in trucks, stretching themselves through windows, catching the wind with their tongues.
There would be an ocean, a river, a lake, where they could bark and play, dig and run.

A buffet of indefinite length holding tubs of peanut butter, buckets of salmon, and plates overflowing with rawhides and kongs and kibble.
A simple roll over for a warm belly rub and a nap in the late afternoon sun. 

Samantha, and Sugar Bear, and Pluto, and Daphne, and all of the other great dogs would be there, waiting for their pal.
They would take turns sniffing butts, just to verify that yes, you are my friend, and yes, I do want to play.

They would be young again, with no aching joints, no sick tummies, no back pain.
 Just love, lots of love, and sunshine without end. 

Herding Them for a Photo

Knowing that this is Archie's last Halloween, I felt the need to go memorable with his costume.

If it's unclear who he is dressed up as, here is a link to the man's wiki page.

As for the other two, well, they are a bit more predictable. Lola's costume has a tale to it, but I will write about that (and provide better photos) later.

Bear Hugs Seem to Help

Two years ago, in August, Josh came home from work and said, "I bought a Christmas present for Lola."  Being that it was August, and we had to hide this gift for nearly 4 months before it could be "delivered," it must be pretty awesome, right?

Well, it was, but it was also freakin' gigantic and it had to live in my closet for 5 months, which meant that every morning when I would open my closet door, it would fall out and body slam me. Sometimes it would win, but more often than not, I would tackle it and shove it back in the closet.

I'm talking about Lola's beloved, Mr. Bear.

 Mr. Bear primary purpose is to provide hugs. He's very snuggly, and more than once, we've had visitors to our home comment on how they would like to cuddle up and take a nap with Mr. Bear.

Other than his Christmas arrival day, I don't know how much time Lola has actually spent playing with him. For quite some time, this has bothered me, and whenever I secretly fantasize about de-cluttering my house of useless toys, I won't deny that Mr. Bear is on the top of my list as one of the first toys to go. 

However, lately, Mr. Bear has served a new purpose, as Archie has learned that Mr. Bear can support him as he sits up.

 And, of course, Mr. Bear is an excellent nap companion.

I think Mr. Bear has proved to be more useful in the past month, than he has since he arrived here two years ago. I'm not sure if I believe that he was worth hiding for 4 months for Lola, but for each additional day he is able to offer comfort to Archie, I believe I am closer to maybe.

Her Own Pace

At her Saturday morning swim class, Lola was promoted from being a Starfish (Level 1) to a Turtle (Level 2). I am writing about this not to brag about her possibility as an Olympic hopeful, but to provide evidence that when I say, Lola is a spirited (i.e. difficult) child, you don't just silently nod and think, uh-huh, I don't know what you are talking about, she's so cute when she's playing with her dolls. 

See, to progress from Level 1 to Level 2, the primary skill that must be demonstrated is the ability to voluntarily submerge your head under water.  The key word here is voluntary.  Meaning, for the last year and a half, when Lola attend her lesson and the instructor would sing, "Okaaaay. Time to do your bobs!" (swim talk for, Go under water!), Lola would stare down her instructor, and say, "No." 

Since this swim school is all about making kids comfortable and allowing them to move at their own pace, the instructor has accepted the No, and has then worked with her on other skills like back floats.

Then this week, at during her 78th lesson, for whatever reason, Lola said, yes, and voluntarily submerged herself under water. After her lesson she was allowed to ring the pool deck bell once (for passing Level 1) and she received a certificate.

I have no idea how long it will take her to progress to the next level, since it is clear that Lola does what Lola wants, but let's just say that I have adjusted my expectations and I am hoping that she learns to swim by the time she is 12. 

San Diego Friendships

Somehow, my friend Karen and I were lucky enough to have children born in the same year. Even though we don't get to see each other often, so when we do, we try to get the kids together to play. On this particular trip, Lola and I met Karen and Tate at the San Diego Zoo. A place filled with very cool animals as well as these amazing Icee beverages.

The kids had a great time chasing each other and playing, while Karen and I got a few hours to chat and catch up.  At one point when they were playing, Lola turned to Tate and said, "I'm angry. You're not my friend."  None of us, including Tate, could figure out why she was mad, and she since she refused to tell us what exactly was making her so angry, it remained a mystery.

Regardless of what was wrong, her foul mood quickly dissipated and minutes later she was proclaiming how her and Tate were friends. By the time we left the park, Lola didn't want to say good-bye to her friend.

Tim Gunn would approve pink gingham

I'd be lying if I said Archie was fine, or even the same as he was last week. Sadly, he seems to be slowly worsening. One of his medications causes excessive thirst, which in turn generates excessive urination. Pairing that with his inability to walk, he is having a difficult time letting us know when he needs to go outside. (He used to walk to the back door and paw at it.) 

As a temporary solution, I purchased doggy diapers for him.

Being that this is the first time I've ever made such purchase, I had no idea that doggy diaper designs differ based on whether you have a male or female dog. When I got home, I realized that I purchased the female diapers.

I'm not sure what he finds more depressing...that he is wearing a diaper, or that he is wearing a pink gingham diaper.

Ten Things to Do in San Diego When You're Thirty

Let's face it, activities that you may have found desirable while in your twenties (ahem like, drinking tequila in Tijuana) may not have the same appeal in your thirties when staying out until 10 PM feels like a really late night.  Of course, this is a huge generalization, and the friend for whom I am creating this list for is a blessed 29 years old, but in my life, my "San Diego to do" list has slowly evolved into the following checklist:

1. See Sunset Cliffs. Better yet, buy a coffee from the Cafe Bella coffee cart in Ocean Beach ("OB") and then park at the cliffs, drink your beverage, and enjoy the amazing view.
2. Eat at El Camino. It's Mexican-style decor is kitschy, its noise level is loud, and the margaritas are strong, but while you are there, you will forget that you are thirty. It's close to the airport, so if you sit outside, you can watch the airplanes pass by dangerously close overhead.  My favorites: the classico margarita and the al pastor tacos.
3. Go for a walk/run/bike ride at Mission Beach. Park at the Mission Beach Boardwalk (it's free!) and then find the concrete path that everyone else is on. If you're lucky, you might see a San Diego icon:  the very tan, fit, rollerskating man who wears only a mask and a banana hammock.
4. Drink a pint at Shakespeare's. It's a British Pub, filled with devout soccer fans watching their televised games, and an extensive menu.  My favorites: The pasty and Cider & Black.
5. Visit the bakery counter at Cafe Zucchero. If you know me, you know how much  I love coffee and a good cannoli.  The cafe has a variety of Italian desserts, including several gelato flavors. I would tell you that the gelato is great, except I've never tried it. I always end up with a cannoli. 
6. Have a cocktail at Top of the Hyatt.  Located on the 40th floor of the Manchester Grand Hyatt Hotel in downtown San Diego, it offers panoramic views of the city. If you've ever heard the story of how I met Elton John in an elevator, then you might remember that this is where I met him. Ditch your flip flops for some classy closed toe shoes and drink a martini. You might see some royalty. 
7. Hike to the top of Cowles Mountain. You need to burn off some of these calories that I'm encouraging, and while you're at it, you can see experience another view of the city. It's approximately 1.5 miles to the top, and can get a little crowded on the weekends, so plan accordingly.
8. Maximize your guacamole intake at Taco Fiesta. Every San Diego native has their favorite taco shop, and for me, it's Taco Fi. My favorites are the Rolled Taco with Guacamole special and Horchata. If you aren't afraid of serious caloric intake, order the Carne Asada fries.  And note, stop here after hiking up Cowles Mountain, otherwise you might experience a little heartburn from all the hot sauce.
9. Eat breakfast at the OB Pier Cafe. Specifically, eat the mango pancakes. Arrive early to get a window side table to watch the morning surf patrol (the OB Pier is a heavy local surf spot).  If you feel yourself rocking side-to-side mid-meal, it's because you are; just cross your fingers that your breakfast isn't interrupted by a Southern California earthquake.  Sometimes in the winter, the OB Pier will be closed for repairs. If it is, eat at Margarita's in OB. They always have cheap cheap breakfast specials.
10. Visit Balboa Park.  It's the largest cultural park in the United States, and between the 15 museums, the world famous San Diego Zoo, and the countless gardens and restaurants, there is always something to do. Even if you nix all the attractions, it's a great place to have a picnic under a eucalyptus tree and watch the tourists and natives wander about.  My favorite Balboa Park activities consist of visiting the Lily Pond, and having lunch on the outdoor patio of The Prado.

San Diego is a pretty darn big place, and while my list is focused on my favorite places in the central part of the city, there are plenty of other really great neighborhoods and sites to see.

I know there are lots of people who read this blog that are either frequent visitors or live in San Diego. If you have any other suggestions for my friend, who will be visiting America's Finest City very soon, please leave a comment below. :)

Sunset Cliffs

A New Badge

It's a bit of a misnomer to call him my little brother, even though that's what he'll always be to me.  As demonstrated in this photo, my sister and I have learned that if we don't want him towering over us, it's necessary to wear heels around him.

He graduated from the Police Academy last week, and we can now officially call him Officer Nick. The Academy ceremony was very cool, as my father presented my brother's badge to him.

Here we are, our little law enforcement family. I think my dad has the biggest smile of the bunch. He's one proud papa.

Running 12 Miles in Wet Shoes is a Good Distraction

I know this is going to sound incredibly naive and juvenile, but I believe I can do anything.

Granted, the challenges in my life tend to fall into the category of first-world-white-girl-kind-of-problems, which lowers the bar quite a bit, but still, I find that if I tell myself I can do anything, oftentimes, I can.

So when Josh asked me if I wanted to complete a Tough Mudder obstacle run in Tahoe with him, I agreed. I will admit, I did hesitate when he first asked me.  Not because I was scared of  the Tough Mudder, but I didn't know if doing something like this with Josh would be good for our relationship. Josh and I have openly admitted that we don't know if our marriage would survive if we were ever contestants on the "Amazing Race."

That, and in general, I'm not someone who believes that  jumping off a 15 foot plank into ice cold water is "fun."  But, I complied because (1) this meant we would get to spend a weekend in Tahoe, (2) I thought it would be a memorable way to celebrate our 5 year wedding anniversary, and (3) I can do anything.

It just so happened that the day before the Tough Mudder event, was the day that we found out Archie had the legion in his spinal cord. After spending much of the day sobbing on the tile floor at the ER with Arch, I took him home, handed him off to my mother, kissed Lola good-bye, and drove up to Tahoe with Josh.

At what was supposed to be our romantic anniversary dinner, Josh and I gazed into each others bloodshot eyes and drank cheap wine.  We tried to talk about the run, how much we loved the fresh mountain air, the challenge of running at 8000 feet. I tried really hard to make it through the meal without crying. We ended up having to box up most of our food.

The next morning, we dragged ourselves out of bed, put on lots of Dri-Fit clothing, and made our way to the start of the course. Josh had a great time, and used the words "fun" and "awesome" throughout the experience. I, on the other hand, was trying so hard to avoid thinking about Archie, that I don't think I said much of anything. I felt like my body was on auto-pilot and all of my energy was focused on each immediate task. Even though I had spent weeks prior to the race stressing about how in the world I was going to survive such a messy disaster, on the day of, the race became such a non-event.

About three-fourths of the way through the race, we had to climb into a giant pit of mud. It was disgusting. Afterwards, there was a photographer waiting to take photos of the participants.  Josh is grinning because he loved the mud.  I know I am smiling too, but that's because I was no longer in that disgusting muddy pit.

A Different Kind of Walk

Archie has become a bit of a celebrity at the park.

It's incredible how popular he has become with the children. Seriously, it's like he's handing out lollipops or something. Before when he brought him to the park, he was just a dog. Now it's like he's a bionic dog.

 

 Everyone wants to know his story and pet him. He is soaking in this extra love. I think it might even be giving him a little more bounce in his step. 

 

Just Me and a Couple of Chickens

In mid-August, Lola experienced her first day of preschool.

I was just going to post a photo of her, but then I felt the need to write about the pre-preschool stuff, because like a lot things that involve this little girl, the back story has to do with me and how mothering has made me even more neurotic than I was before Lola. And of course, it has taken me months to actually sit down and write. So here you go, a photo.

There are a few more below. Feel free to scroll through my ramblings to see them. I won't be offended.

Anyway, where was I? I suppose this story really started many months before the first day of school.

Months and months ago, Josh and I began to discuss what sort of preschool we would like Lola to attend. While we knew that we wanted her to experience two years of preschool before kindergarten, we were unsure of what sort of setting we wanted her to be in. I began to talk to co-workers and friends with older children.  The more I listened, the more I learned, and the more overwhelmed I became because I quickly realized that there are several different types of preschool environments.  Each one seemed to claim that it is the best way to teach a child, and everyone seemed to agree that you should put your child in the environment in which she learns best, but until you put your child in an actual preschool environment, how do you know which way is the best way your child learns? And then, what if you put her in the wrong environment, and that environment doesn't work, and you need to change schools, but your next choice is full, and then fast forward 15 years, your kid doesn't qualify for any financial aid and you're stuck with a $40,000 annual college tuition bill. THERE IS A LOT RIDING ON THIS ISSUE. 

Next time I complain about not being able to sleep and I blame it on Lola, please quietly email this post to me with the subject line: It's your own fault, worrywart.

 In order to resolve this issue, I resorted to my favorite problem solver of all time, the list. First, I made a list of the things that were important to me:

Outdoor play
Affordable tuition 
Balance between "structured academics" and open creative play
Diversity
Experienced teacher


For a while, I was set on sending Lola to a Spanish immersion school, where the entire school day is taught in Spanish.  (Josh nixed this idea when we learned the school was an in-home program, which was something he was not comfortable with.)  Then, I began to lean toward a Montessori school, but when they increased their tuition rates for the school year, it was no longer within our budget.

We finally settled on a co-op school in our neighborhood. This co-op is ran through our local Parks Department and the school program requires parents to volunteer a set number of hours in the classroom each month, as well as expects the parents to perform other specific classroom duties.  (Josh volunteered to be the "laundry" parent, which means he is in charge of washing the kitchen towels, and other various clean up towels used each week. I'm the "preschool librarian" which essentially means that I am in charge of the monthly Scholastic Book Club orders.) The teacher follows a Love and Logic approach, and I think the classroom can be best described as a Montessori-Waldorf hybrid.

This co-op has a reputation of being difficult to get into, and at the tour we took back in February, I was told that in order to get your child admitted, it was necessary to sign-up on the first day of registration. Given that I've heard stories about people camping outside elementary schools in order to get priority kindergarten registration, I took this tidbit of info from the tour and stuck it to my mental Pinterest board titled, "I'll do Anything for my Child."

Fast forward to April, and there I am on registration day, standing outside the Parks Department Building at 6:30 A.M. The office is set to open at 8:00 AM, and other than meeting the Parks maintenance man (who's day I learned began at 5:30 AM), it's just me and a couple of the wild neighborhood chickens. I fully expect a large line to form, one that would wrap around the building, so I wait.

At 6:45, I go back to my car to get a jacket. At 7:15, I pull out my cell phone and start texting friends who might be on their commute to work. At 7:45 AM, still alone, I realize just how crazy I am. At 7:55 AM, employees begin to pull into the parking lot and I feel a way of ridiculousness wash over me, as I quickly hide my book in my purse. One of the women invites me inside.  "Have you been waiting very long?" No, not at all, I tell her. I quickly register Lola for school, and then leave, hoping that I won't have to come back to the office any time soon.

Later, I find out that my craziness was worth it, as the returning children received priority registration, and Lola is only one out of four new children in the class.

So far, being that we are now almost two months in, we are pleased with our choice. As far as my list goes, the only area lacking is diversity, but given the demographics of our neighborhood, that isn't entirely surprising.  Lola loves school, and when she comes home she excitedly shares stories about the friends that she has made, the things she has built, the many many puzzles she has put together (our girl loves puzzles!), and is always pulling some sort of crazy craft project out of her backpack.

What has surprised Josh and I the most about our experience with our community-based school, is just how much of a community it is. Rarely do we leave the house and not run into someone we know. We still go to the same parks, the same library, the same grocery store, as we did before, but now when we go, we hear, "Lola!" and then turn to see a smiling parent with child in tow. As Lola is making friends, Josh and I are beginning to form friendships too, and that feels really good.

I Won't Give Up Yet

During the many specialist appointments that we've attended with Archie, each one made a special point to use the phrase "quality of life."  As much as I've tried to comfort myself by saying that Archie is naturally very melancholy and sleeps for hours each day, I know that his lack of mobility has made him even more depressed than usual.

In an attempt to lift his spirits, we purchased a cart for him.

It's definitely taking him some time to get used to it, but it's great because now he is mobile and he can spend even more time outside sniffing and barking at squirrels.  My new favorite Archie moments involve him attempting to pee on bushes. He practically steamrolls the bush for a couple of drops of pee. So far, none of the neighbors have complained.

 I realize that some people might think that I am nuts for doing these sort of things for my dog.  But in defense of my actions, I have to say that I feel that what I am doing is really minimal in exchange for the years of unconditional love he has shown for me. He might just be a dog, but he's my dog, and a member of my family, and he deserves to be cared for and loved until the end.

Things she says

Lola's grocery list:
Tomatoes
Salt
Cilantro
Peanut butter
Spinach
Ranch
Pizza
Milk
Peanut butter sandwiches
Strawberries
Nachos
Peanut butter

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"Spacing." The act of going into outer space. Used in the same context as "camping" or "swimming."
As used by Lola:  "Mommy, let's go spacing! I'll grab my helmet, and you grab an oxygen pack."

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Lola to Grandma:  What are you playing?
Grandma: Angry Birds. I don't think you'll like it.
Lola: I like angry birds. Sometimes, when I'm at the park I see stupid birds, and I get angry.

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I'm Temporarily Giving Up on Mascara

The long hot days of summer had a stronghold on September. That intense heat has slowly faded as the daylight hours have shortened, and it is slowly starting to feel like autumn has arrived.

It seems fitting that our home is experiencing its own transitions, one of which that has made me somewhat distant as I've tried to emotionally deal with the change.

It's Archibald.

Back in that dreadful September, he began to have trouble using his hind legs. After a couple of days of "taking it easy," his mobility worsened and soon, he wasn't able to walk at all. It appeared that he had hurt his back; however after many tests, and many visits to specialists, we learned that there is a tiny lesion inside his spinal cord which is causing paralysis.  It's unknown as to what exactly this lesion is, because it's very rare, but most likely it is some sort of cancer. 

Here is Archie, thrilled to be in the car, extremely happy for a dog who was just told he has cancer and will never independently walk again.

Since he doesn't have an actual diagnosis, we have no idea what his potential life expectancy is. Based on the battery of tests he endured, we did learn that other than this tiny thing in his spinal cord, he shows no other signs of cancer.

It's incredible how something so small can create so much chaos. 

The first week after we learned that he most likely had cancer, I could barely look at him before I would begin to cry. The thought of him no longer being a part of our family broke my heart. But, Archie finds crying to be distasteful and accordingly, I am sucking it up.

He's on medication to manage his discomfort and to reduce the inflammation that the lesion is placing on his spinal cord. The medication is pretty amazing -- within being on it for 1 week, he is now capable of placing some weight on his back legs.  This is a remarkable improvement and makes it easier on us when we take him outside.

Since we don't know how much time we have left with him, I've been allowing him to do pretty much whatever he pleases. We go to the park, and he gets to lounge on a blanket without a leash; he lays out on the back patio in the sun (which is a no-no considering he is a skin cancer survivor); there is no daily cap on the number of treats allotted to him; and every meal comes with a tiny bit of peanut butter.

Here he is on his newly created outdoor patio bed, doing what he's always wanted to do for 3 years: forcing Lola to lay on the concrete, while he lounges on memory foam.

At the park for a Sunday afternoon picnic, with a little assistance from Josh.

After a lot of soul searching and asking myself, how am I going to be able to do this, I've come to a sort of peace. I've decided that I need to focus on the fact that my role is provide him with security, comfort, and love. As long as he has those three things, he will be happy and then, I will be happy too.