What I Did Last Summer

With the Olympics behind us and school's start-up still a whole day away, I'm enjoying a tear-free 24 hours.

Uh, make that 19; Ben starts 1st grade tomorrow at 7:50 a.m. sharp.

So, being the last day of the boys' summer, we're also enjoying extended pajama-wearing hours and we ate breakfast for lunch.

No better time, then, to look back at this fun, funny summer we've had. The boys have grown like weeds, my outdoor plants have grown like dried herbs and I've grown to find a happy place in Wichita. Here's why:

• I've found a pool, a drink and some friends.
• We were in 68-degree California during Wichita's 111-degree days.
• My boys are happy.

So, behold, our good life this summer, through a quick recap.

We performed our own Olympic event, The Springboard (that's Roman):

...and The Spectator (my event, obviously):

 

We had a visit from Aunt Viv...

...and paid a visit to KC to see The Foxes:

 

Ben cozied next to his swimming ribbons, possibly to prevent brotherly theft, or to boost his self esteem as he slept:

And, speaking of accomplishments, Roman learned to cook his own eggs. My work is done here, folks.

The boys also learned to take pictures, resulting in only a few (dozen) R-rated shots, but mostly capturing beauts like this:

We also laked...

...and t-balled:

Then rounded it all out with a vacation to California, where we played...

...ate...

...and became thinkers?

Finally, in Colorado, we had the honor of seeing my brother-in-law Joey marry the wonderful Teresa:

Then my boys of summer caught their first Rockies (vs. Giants!) game at Coors Field:

We're up for a big day tomorrow, then a busy week to follow as Roman starts his last year of pre-school and I take up my dual role as frazzled mom and lunch lady extraordinaire.

But first, we'll get out of our PJs for one more pool day in this funnier-than-expected season. Summer, we anxiously await your return.

Catching Our Breath

Roman asked just before bed: Can we go back to the hospital for one of those popsicles?

He's referring to the popsicle that, with a steroid chaser, cost a $100 co-pay and last night's rest. Poor guy was stricken with croup, so I took his barking little body to our friendly neighborhood ER, where he was finally able to catch his breath and watch Toy Story 2. And enjoy a midnight popsicle.

(Note the clock. We don't like to be anywhere but bed at zero-o'clock)

And so marks our official return to normal here in Wichita. We're all recovering, actually, and trying to catch our breath from an extended case of California vacation jetlag. We had the most lovely time, and all that beach, family, food and celebration made for a reluctant return. Indeed, I've mentally maintained Roman's ER posture (see above) for two full weeks. 

Thankfully, Ben jumped right back into school (he missed it, actually), there's a little snow on the ground (the first of the season) and, most importantly, Roman is better, after enjoying a sick day at home.

So here's to getting back into the Wichita swing of things (after a good night's rest, of course). And if homesickness strikes...

Ahhhh....deep breaths.

Thankful...

...for an especially lovely, long weekend in Denver with my in-laws and beloved girlfriends.

The boys savored it too; in fact, it was the first year they could thoughtfully answer the question, "What are you thankful for this year?" (Ben: "Roman." "Our house." Roman: "Toys." "The toilet.")

And, while I don't think anyone asked me what I'm thankful for this year (family, friends, health and Big House Red by the box), the weekend's festivities only added to my mental list.

So, in no particular order, I'm thankful...

...that Ben still believes the Pilgrims and Indians were pals (seriously, they still teach that!)...

...for my high-altitude Turkey Trotting partner...

...that I have a new, future sister-in-law...

...for vegetarianism (that was the turkey talking; you're welcome, turkey)...

...that Roman's face didn't actually melt off, despite appearances...

...for these handsome Scognamillo men (and further proof that group pictures are impossible)...

...for friends willing to drive a long way for a short visit...

...and that the holidays aren't over. What can I say? I'm a sap.

Chicken Soup for the Skittish

We're just back from five sunny days in San Pedro, CA, where we celebrated Anthony's Grandma Jean and Grandpa Phil's birthdays - they turned 90 and 85, respectively.

And what a party...er, make that party, after party, after party. No complaints from me, though - the town seems to be 90 percent Scognamillos and/or Mazzellas, so we never had to go far for food or family. And even when you can't see them, they're always in earshot, since they speak exclusively in outside voices.

See? I fit right in.

A few memorable moments:
Ben and Roman explore the cockpit in DEN:

Ben and Roman's little feet in the ocean:

Scognamillo family picture at the b'day celebration:

Yucking it up with Grandpa Phil on the patio:

"Appetizers" that brought me to my food-loving knees:

Roman the pirate (see a friendly parrot on his shoulder):

Grandma Jean whacks a live chicken:
(Photo unavailable.)

True story, though: there I was, chatting with the petite, gentle Grandma Jean when she excused herself to go outside because her cousin had dropped off a chicken for chicken soup. Not "dropped off chicken" but "dropped off a chicken." I opted to stay inside (and the boys were safely sleeping downstairs, of course), but she was plucking and gutting that thing 10 seconds after I heard its final cluck.

AUGH! Equal parts horrifying and admirable...these are wonderfully Old Country people, who unknowingly slap me in the face with my own wimpiness. I am, afterall, the girl who was literally brought to tears in the Trader Joe's cheese section. Then at In-N-Out Burger. What can I say?! I miss California. And I'm a sucker for inexpensive, organic treats.

Anyway, I'll wrap it up on the organic theme: I now know that the best meals come from a garden in L.A., grown, picked and prepared by Jean and Phil, this world's two most organic Italians-turned-Californians.

I can't wait to go back. I just might politely decline the chicken soup.

Dang Song

It's a sure sign of rock-bottom homesickness when the song "California Girls" (er, sorry, "Gurls") makes me choke up. I'm not normally one to quote Katy Perry, but truly nothing comes close to the Golden Coast.

Must be today's Wichita weather, which is what they call SEVERE. That's code for, "don't open your door or it'll blow off its hinge." Children under 40 lbs. (that's Roman) blow into hedges and, in more SEVERE cases, houses land on unsuspecting witches.

Thankfully, we don't have to go far today. After an incredibly busy-but-fun day yesterday, we're in today, with only laundry and naps on the agenda.

But, alas, we'll be on the coast soon enough; we're traveling to San Pedro in two weeks for Anthony's dear Grandma Jean's 90th b'day. In the meantime, I've got to get this damn song out of my head.

Speaking of travel, before the weather turned SEVERE (you can't help but write it that way!), we popped out to get big-boy Ben his own suitcase with b'day money from his great-grandfather Ben. When you turn 5 in this house, you dress yourself (note the muscle-T, Hawaiian shorts and camo shoes) and haul your own suitcase. Let the traveling begin!