kibbitz and bits

hi, we're back! in case my last mysterioso post was too mysterioso for you, the san francisco bay area is where we're back from. and we had a kick-ass time.

alas, this is not the vacation wrap-up extravaganza post. oh no no no. i'm too jet-lagged for that—we arrived home at 6am. which is 3am california time. which means yes, god help us, we flew the red-eye with a toddler. and we didn't get him his own seat, as this was our last chance for him to take advantage of the kids-under-2-fly-free rule. which means that he slept on my lap. and have i mentioned in the past that he's a crazy sleeper? a flailer and flopper and twister? at home, he always ends up sideways and upside-down in his bed. in my lap, sideways and upside-down is less of a do-able task, so he'd come to when he tried to accomplish some feat of nocturnal gymnastics. he'd only fuss for a minute then go back down, but the problem was that once he got "comfortable" (head in my armpit, butt up, left leg resting on the edge of my upright-and-locked tray table, right leg extended with my headphones dangling from his toes, left hand stuffed down my bra) i was generally not comfortable, and afraid to move lest i awaken him again. so i got about....oh....15 minutes of good sleep.

plus i'm still waiting for my approximately 1335 photos to load in to the computer.

but here's a little anecdote to hold you over:

it was our second-to-last day in san fran, staying at a british-type bed-and-breakfast/inn place that was just ducky. we had been out all day gallivanting, and were making a quick pit stop at our room before heading out for dinner with aunite tam, aunt sadie, kramer, and baby charlie. we were standing at the door to our room, getting out the keys, and laughing about something silly that wile had just done or said, when we hear a voice from the room next door say "stop laughing!" i looked at stephen for a second, then, of course, laughed. and again, the voice said "stop laughing!" i looked in the direction of the voice and asked, "are you talking to us?" the voice said, "yes!" to which, of course, i laughed again. and the voice said, "stop it! you've been out there all day making noise! stop it!" i replied, "we just got home and have been in the hallway for about 20 seconds, unlocking our door." the voice begged to differ: "i've heard you out there all day, kibbitzing! stop kibbitzing in the hallway!" kibbitzing!!! i almost fell down laughing. the voice, predictably, told me once again to "stop it!" i managed to catch my breath to say, "honestly, if you don't want to hear other people, perhaps you shouldn't be staying in a hotel." by this point stephen had gotten the door unlocked and he and wile had retreated in to our room, so i was the only one left in the hallway to hear the voice say, once more, "stop kibbitzing!" i picked up the last of our bags, said "lady, you need to get a grip," and went in to our room. and locked the door. just in case.

up! down! big hill! ocean!

these are wile's new words.

can you guess where we're spending our two-week vacation?

[bonus hint for a portion of the readership: he also says vixie! and bowie!]

a moment of silence, please

as we have no tivo or tivo equivilent, my television viewing is limited. what i mean more precisely is that i conciously limit it, because there's really no use getting all invested in a show if there's a decent chance that when said show airs, i will be putting someone to bed or giving someone a bath or cleaning up someone's barf or—until recently—running upstairs to put someone back to sleep. i won't name any names.

yes, i could set the vcr to tape a show i wanted to see, but that means actually remembering to set the vcr to tape the show i want to see, every time it's on. not bloody likely.

so i've basically whittled my tv time down to baseball games and two shows. okay, for a while there it was three shows, but halfway through this season i had to throw in the o.c. towel. it was somewhere around the point that marissa's sister came back from wherever they'd been hiding her, and sandy was involved with some hookers, and....yeah. i had to back away. i am a little sad that i missed marissa doing the coke. but, c'est la vie.

anyway, i was down to two shows. one was project runway, and, when that ended, top chef. but, though i love them, those are reality shows, which are the summer flings to the going steady of a network series. and just who was i going steady with? everwood. yes, everwood. yes, on the wb. look, i don't go to the tv to think. i've got npr and the new yorker for that.

last week, i kept seeing ads (during one of my baseball games, which air on the wb on the weekend) for what i thought they were saying was the season finale of everwood. but then about the fifth time i saw the ad, i realized that they were really saying series finale. series! finale! no more everwood! and this isn't like when buffy ended, when the show had gotten so mind-bogglingly bad that i was marking off the days on my calendar till the last episode (but, after 7 seasons, four of them brilliant, couldn't give up so close to the end.)

but though the quality was still there, i can't say i'm surprised that everwood got canned, since i didn't know anyone else who watched it except me. but i am sad. so a moment, if you would, to say goodbye to ephram, amy, bright, hannah, dr. brown, delia, nina, edna, rose, and the totally awesome dr. abbot. rip, little mountain town.

and so begins the search for a replacement....

doing our best to subvert the dominant baby paradigm

wile, like most of his friends, boy and girl alike, has a toy stroller. granted, most of his guy friends' parents have opted for a more masculine (read: dark blue) stroller for their little men, while i opted for what was on the shelf at our corner dollar store: bright pink and purple plaid.

the other day at the park wile left his stroller in the ball pit (the fenced in area at the top of the park) while we went down to do some sliding. as we walked from one slide to the other, i saw that another little boy had gotten his paws on the stroller and was pushing it around; the woman with him saw me looking at them and asked if it was ours, i told her yes, and that they were welcome to play with it.

after wile had had enough sliding, we headed back to the ball pit, where the other little boy was still pushing the stroller. his caretaker, who turned out to be his grandmother, told him to give it back, but i said, "no, it's fine, he's more interested in his football right now, you guys can keep playing with the stroller." and i got back the standard "oh, it's a boy?" sigh. "yeah, he's a boy." "oh, i'm sorry, the hair...." "oh no, no big deal, common mistake."

so far, so typical. i have the yes-he's-a-boy-yes-his-hair-is-very-long conversation at least once a day. but then....

"oh....but this is your stroller?"

"uh-huh."

"oh.....so you also have a daughter?"

".....noooooo, that's his stroller."

"oh!"

oh, brother.