First Fencing Tournament

Today we headed a Foil Invitational, the boys' first ever fencing tournament. It ended up being a much longer day than we anticipated, but it was a great learning experience for all. I still can't figure out how they score the bouts, but I was impressed with the process.

Step 1 = each fencer battles every other in their pool. That seeds them based on touches scored, touches allowed, and matches won. Based on those numbers, Riley was seeded #2 and Dylan was #5, out of 8.

Step 2 = direct elimination with the best two out of three bouts. Dylan was bumped during his first direct elimination and it brought him to tears, but we told him he did a great job, considering he's only had four lessons! And he ended up in 4th place anyway.

Riley made it to the semi-finals before being eliminated by the kid who went on to take 2nd place. Riley ended up (tied) at 3rd place. Both boys who placed ahead of him have been fencing for three years, so he did remarkably well.

After the medal ceremony, we had lunch and met some friends for ice cream at the new Penny. Bitter Caramel, Chocolate Bergamot, Fresh Mint Chocolate Chip, and a Verve Coffee were the top picks. What a day!

First Valentines' date in, well, at least 17 years

I wrote, a couple of years ago, about being a Valentines' Day hater. I've rethought my position, this year,  as I prepare to go on my first Valentines' date in, well, at least 17 years...maybe more. I've been with Jake for fifteen years; I didn't celebrate it the year before I met him or the year that I was in Italy. So, that puts it at at least 17 years!

It's not that I hate romance or love. Quite the contrary. I despise celebrating Valentines because I love romance and love love.

Kinda like Christmas. I dislike the commercialization of the holiday, but love instilling the spirit of giving in my boys.

While I wholeheartedly disagree with buying roses, cards, and chocolates for your beloved on the day that Hallmark designates, I embrace making your sweethearts feel special all the time!

But I am still oddly giddy about the luscious, romantic, & juicy Valentines' dinner planned at La Crème... I have my sitter lined up and can't wait to share a lovely evening with the love of my life.

The Blog Dare: Unexpected Changes...

"Changes I didn't expect in 2012" is the Blog Dare writing prompt for today, Friday, January 4th.

When I first became a mom, changes were de rigeur. My baby changed every single day. One day his eyes were crossed, the next he could focus on us and grin. One day he was immobile, the next he was rolling. One day he was toothless, the next pink gums were replaced with jagged, pearly white teeth. The only constant was change!

But as they left babyhood and became toddlers, visible change slowed. And the pace slowed even more when they entered school. Dramatic changes were replaced by subtle ones, almost unnoticeable unless you took the time to look. There were definite Eureka! moments when I realized that they were not the same as the day before.

One night I was tucking Dylan in and crawled under his covers as I always did to snuggle up, smell his clean hair, and read a book with him. He looked at me and said, "Mom, you know that I can read, right?!" I was stunned into silence. I know that you can read, I stammered. "But you can bring your own book in here and read next to me," he offered. "...if you want to." Okay.

Also in 2012, my 10-year-old started wearing shoes bigger than mine, exhibiting the clear signs of pre-pubescence, and developing an understated independence that brought tears to my eyes. Gone are the tantrums he used to throw when his vocabulary didn't match his thoughts. He's not defiant; he's just firm, focused, articulate and steadfast.

I suppose I should have expected these changes. But somehow they still caught me off-guard.

NYE: Hole Up, Giggle, and Cuddle with Your Kids

A blogger that I follow posted a link to an article about the babysitter wars. Click to read it or trust my synopsis: babysitters expect to get paid more on New Year's Eve - sometimes twice their usual rate - and people actually poach sitters from friends or pick up random sitters at the mall. The piece goes on to offer helpful hints for procuring sitters for new years, including sharing a sitter, hosting the party at your house, or just resigning yourself to paying through the nose. Really?!?

Okay, I'm on my soapbox here. But I have a suggestion.

If you are a parent, seriously consider 

spending New Year's Eve with who should be 

the most important people to you. 

Your spouse. And your kids. 

New Year's Eve is a celebration of the year that's passed - all the challenges and triumphs; it's a time to reflect. Midnight is the beginning of a new year, a fresh start. Why would you spend that away from your family? I like drinking wine and noshing on appetizers with my friends as much as anyone else, but that can happen on any of the other 364 nights of the year. That can happen on my birthday, my husband's birthday, our friends' birthdays. Heck, I don't even need a reason to meet a friend for a drink or eats. But, for me, ringing in the new year is something intimate. It's a time to hole up, giggle, cuddle, and remember why you start and end each day with these people. They're yours.

Click here for what we did last year. Family fun-shenanigans with some traditions from around the world.

This year, we'll be listening to some taiko drums downtown in the afternoon, dining at a favorite restaurant, heading home for some internationally-inspired New Year's desserts, playing board games, toasting with bubbles, and smooching as the clock strikes twelve.

This was our toast from last year. We all made it to midnight. We'll be there again in a few days. Same couch. Same time.

The Blog Dare: I Urge You to...

"I Urge You to..." so reads the Blog Dare writing prompt for today, Wednesday, December 26th. Never having participated in this venture before, I'm not even sure that I'm doing this correctly. But I really like these seeds of inspiration and decided to give it a whirl today.

I urge you to...handwrite your thank you notes this year.

Why? For me, there are a few reasons.

(1) Because I force my kids to do it. They may pace themselves (3 per day or 4 per day) until they get them all written, but they do it. I should lead by example, right? Yes.

(2) Because eThanks get buried in a glut of post-holiday sale emails. Do you get emails from every vendor you've ever ordered from, reminding you of the great sales they have going this week? I sure do - from Office Depot to Lands End. It's far too easy to accidentally select and delete an actual email that you want to read at this time of year. Whoops.

(3) Because there's something wonderful about a piece of paper in your hand from someone that you like or love. Their choice of paper and card say something about their mood or personality. Their handwriting tells you that they value you (and your gift) enough to take a few moments out of their day - longer than it takes to type out an email - to tell you so. They bought a stamp and took it to the post office - or at least lifted the flag on their mailbox. It shows determination and purpose.

So that's it: my exhortation for you to buy some pretty cards and write out your gratitude in ink. Hope your holidays were merry and bright. Dylan picked some thank you cards with a goldfish and googly eyes; Riley's have blueprints of a robot on them. Now I just need to find some cards for myself. I'm thinking about something pink and sparkly.

Stepping into History

How often do you get to wander back into history, nibble on historic recipes and holiday treats, and meet local authors and artists? Well, if you live in Monterey: at least once a year at the State Parks' Christmas in the Adobes event! Last year was the first time we attended and the boys wanted to go again. What a fantastic opportunity for enrichment and family fun.

We saw Riley's classmate Lina perform "chinches" (spelling?), a dance inspired by the squishing and sliding through bed bug juice at the Custom House...

 We ran into Linda Yamane, the Ohlone master basket weaver we met last year, at the Pacific House and she let Dylan try on her goose feather headress...

We ate Scottish oatcakes at California's First Theatre and snagged the recipe...we drank horchata at Casa Serrano...

We met Randall Reinstedt, local historian and prolific author, and the boys picked up two of his books that we didn't already own; Robert McNamara, Riley's mandolin teacher, was performing at the Larkin House; the boys made button yo-yos and devoured gingerbread at the Cooper-Molera Adobe; and we ended the adventure by eating clam chowder overlooking the harbor. 

Amazing evening...but I have to say that my favorite part of the evening was when we were walking back to the car, Dylan asked me, "Mom, what did you learn tonight?" That's how we always end all of our adventures - reflecting on something that was new to us - but it was first time that he initiated the conversation.

I learned that the First Theatre was originally a boarding house. The docent there explained to us how hinged clapboards swung down from the ceiling to create individual rooms and the poorer guests climbed the ladder-stairs to the top floor where they could stay (and eat in the morning) for twenty-five cents. The boys are excited to attend a performance there when they reopen in 5 years. Me, too!

THE Talk

**Warning: this post is not for the squeamish, or for the mother who is still in denial that her kids will ever have sex.**

You know the talk to which I'm referring, right? THE talk. My boys are ten-and-a-half and almost nine. So, I have had nearly a decade to mentally prepare myself for this. Looking back on my own adolescence, I wasn’t even interested in boys until at least thirteen and I didn't start my period until I was fifteen. I figured that I still had time. I mean, they both just wrote letters to Santa Claus!

And though their classmates are outpacing them as far as exposure to sex - via movies and television -, I fear that my boys' curiosity will soon surface and I would rather that they get the info from me and my husband. Besides, I've heard buzzings that this is the year - 5th grade - that they get some kind of sex ed in school. And once Riley knows something, Dylan knows it.

We've had cursory discussions about puberty. The boys started doing laundry this year and asked my husband "why does mommy bleed in her panties?" I actually scheduled my kid to go the doctor because he was concerned that one testicle was larger than the other. Turns out we cancelled the appointment, after three pairs of testicles were whipped out of boxer shorts in my living room and the guys to whom they were attached discussed what is normal. I wanted to scream, "Why am I here?Am I really necessary for this conversation?!?"

Not too long ago, Dylan said this and I happily chuckled to myself and sighed with relief: "I already know where babies come from. The daddies give the mommies the parts. And the mommies do all the work of making the baby." Yes! I don't think that my husband was wholly amused, but he seemed relieved, too, that we had staved off another brush with The Talk.

When we had our friends' girls with us for Spring Break, I hastily typed out an email saying that if their kids came home talking about eggs and sperm it was because we were watching a documentary about spawning salmon. Thankfully, none of the kids made the mental leap from salmon eggs and sperm to human eggs and sperm. That would have sent me over the edge that week.

I am not ready for The Talk. I’m just not. I think I'm okay with a discussion of the mechanics - maybe - and the anatomy. I just don't know how to discuss the intentions and the ramifications. I remember my mom saying that sex was something that happens between two married people - in a bed. True. But that seems needlessly old-fashioned and prudish. I mean, let's be honest, Jake and I weren't married when we started having sex and we don't always have sex in a bed.

Right now the boys equate sex with mating. Sex is to make babies. I'm okay with that. The fact that sex is recreational and enjoyable...well, I'm okay with that, too, on a personal level but - as a mother - not so much. I have, so far, cowered away from this topic and would prefer to sequester the boys in a closet somewhere until they graduate from college, but I know this is unrealistic.

One of my best friends' six-year-old asked her about sex last week. She fumbled and ended up asking him, "Have you ever watched the nature channel?" Then she came in to work and asked me if she could borrow  my nature channel documentaries on DVD. And in the face of her horror, we all laughed. All of us. Her husband. My husband. Even me. But I stopped laughing when I recognized that her kid is the little kid in our gang; my boys are older than he is. It might be time.

I am fully cognizant that not talking about it would be worse than talking about it. So, I'll squirm on the couch next to my husband while broaching the subject which is vastly preferable to sitting on the couch next to my husband, learning that one of our boys has an STD or is going to be a father, right?!?

Yes, it is our responsibility, as the parents, to teach them about safe sex. I don’t want them to have sex. I don’t even really want them to even know what sex is. But they will know and they will have sex. Ugh. There, I said it. My boys will have sex...likely within this next decade. I much prefer to have The Talk now when I am not ready, than later when I am still not ready and there are already ramifications.

My hope is that my boys will leave the conversation, set aside their mortification and embarrassment, and take some time to think it through. I also hope that they choose to wait a long, long, long, long time until engaging in sexual activity. But I will sleep better knowing that I have done all I can as a parent and if they do choose not to wait, at least they are educated and will know how to protect themselves.

That aside, maybe it's not too late to embrace my Catholic roots. Then I can morally guilt them into never having sex. Or scare them. Anyone have any horror stories? Or chastity belts?!?