Overheard at his first sleepover

I'm feeling a bit triumphant right now. Lil E's first sleepover with one of his favorite buddies, Lil F, went strangely, spookily well. There was playing, pizza, and the partially viewed "Hotel for Dogs." By 9 p.m., both boys were sound asleep. Lil E was stretched out on his bed, one leg propped up on the other like he was taking a siesta in an office chair, and his friend was sprawled out and snoring on a small air mattress wedged into the play space on my son's toy-crowded floor.

They -- and I am fully aware that admitting this will thrust the wrath of the preschool gods upon me at the next sleepover -- slept soundly for eleven glorious hours, ate a bit of breakfast, and were sad to say goodbye. Aside from the incessant questions about when he reciprocate by spending the night at his friend's house, it was a complete success for Lil E.

Even if it would have been an all-night gutteral scream-fest, it would have all been worth it to hear the boys innocently, earnestly debating whether the word "doo-doo" (thanks, Jew-fro kid in "Hotel for Dogs") means "dude" or "poop" (still apparently up for debate between the two after much deliberation on each side).

It would have also been worth to hear a moment that could have stopped at this sign that Lil E is processing some really big stuff but went on to be a sign that these boys are in it together. They were pulling on tiny undies and comfy pants in Lil E's room when I overheard them from the next room.

Lil E: Hey, Lil F! My parents aren't married anymore. A judge said they aren't and so they are not married.

Lil F: Oh. I don't think my parents are married anymore either.

Lil E: Ummm, but your parents live together in the same house.

Lil F: OH YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Thank goodness that was solved. Now back to counting our lucky little sleepover stars.

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Just about the only thing that's going to make me OK with it being fall during summer

It's the end of August and for days, it has been the middle of October. I'm not OK with it. I want sticky, hot humidity that outwits hair straighteners and car air conditioners. I want sunburns and mid-day clothing changes. I want blissful, blissful sunshine blazing at a heat index of 412-degrees.

Instead, it is raining. A lot. We are freezing in our central air and I refuse to give up my sunglasses, even if it there is a 10 p.m. overcast darkness at noon. 

So what is keeping me going when the last before-back-to-school hoorahs of hours at the park and walks by the lake and trips to the nearly closed Kiddieland are foiled and we just end up watching a lot of crap "Phinneas & Pherb" or playing endless games of Clone Troopers vs. whatever lady Star Wars character I plead with Lil E gets to use a light saber just this once? I'm not going to lie -- it's shoes.

Specifically, it is a pair of boots. This pair of boots. A pair of boots I tried on in Portland, walked around in at a cute little store while wearing a sundress and heat rash. In the moment, I was too lazy to carry one more thing on the plane ride home with me and too frugal to give a commission to the eager sales woman who hastily scraped the hell out of my calf insisting on zipping them up for me, and so I didn't buy them. But when a gorgeous 84-degree day in Chicago suddenly turned into a thunderstorm, I got online and finally tracked them down here.

Sweet relief.

Oh, friends. Look at these the lovely, lovely leather beauts. Not only are they tall, sleek, and bad ass, they are waterproof -- perfect for my rigorous commutes from my front door to the car across the preschool playground and back again. Won't those 4- and 5-year-olds think I am something? OK, no. But it will make me feel better about not having a proper summer after a winter that hellishly lasted until June 17th.

Just don't judge me if I am wearing them with a sundress and some aviators. Or if I still am carrying my flip-flops around in my bag, just in case.

A word to the shoe whore wise: These boots are not for the full of calf. And according to the fascists who design boots these days, anyone with calves bigger than their wrists are considered full of calf. I detest this. Not enough to stop buying leather boots, but I detest it. These do adjust a bit at the top and the sales lady who ripped up my legs assured me that she has a pair and they stretched to accommodate jeans. I have absolutely no information about the thickness of her jeans, but I am going to give that 22-year old stylista the benefit of the doubt.

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Postcards from the Oregon coast: We dipped our toes in the ocean

To a Midwestern city grrrl like me, there is nothing closer to heaven than feeling the tide rise up to meet your ankles, seeing the stars clear and bright in a dark sky, and hearing any natural sound above the screech of cars and sirens and skateboards. 

I love my home in the city and it us truly where we belong. But my heart is at ease at the ocean, on a hiking trail, and where the foul smell of patchouli almost is over-powered by the aroma of good coffee and much better microbrews.

We left the patchouli stench of Corvallis in the last weekend of our first solo vacation for the coast of Oregon. We weren't solo at that point. My good friend Paula accompanied us, and made arrangements for us to stay at a lovely little hotel right on Nye Beach, just outside of Newport.

Any anxieties of work or anything else left my body the moment I saw the blue of the ocean. As I always do when I hear the waves clamor against the sand, I felt small, insignificant, at ease. There is nothing like that feeling, nothing like a reminder of the speck of sand you are in the universe to make it easy to put off (maybe even forget) deadlines, dating, dealing with an ex.

Lil E wanted to surf in the Pacific (I love him). But once he felt the water on his toes, he conceded to just running along the tide line in the sand. We did eat great seafood and shopped in lovely little boutiques. We woke up the sea lions who lazed at the Newport piers by barking at them. We went for a tour of one of the best aquariums in the country, petted the starfish and rays, stared at the tanks of amazingly beautiful jellyfish, and clapped as the seals and sea lions performed tricks during feeding time.

One day, though, I promised him we'd be back in wetsuits to ride some of those waves.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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