Lions, Tigers, and Hairs

Today lil' H and I went to Peteluma so that he could get a haircut and now he looks twice as old. My plan to let his hair grow throughout our California summer was dismissed when he started to look like A.) a ragamuffin and B.) Squiggy from "Laverne & Shirley."

And then Nutella gelato. He kinda liked it. A bit.

Note: this child has GREEN eyes! Where did those come from? We also found a beautiful knitting store that H let me drool in as he played with the ball winding machine.

A good day and one closer to a visit from Grandma and Aunt Jen!

Muir Woods and Henry's Toyshop

Today we went to Muir Woods, upon recommendation (nay, insistence) from a family friend. You know what? Every other person in the state of California had the exact same idea. And so we had to park seven miles from the ticket booth. And that sucked. But trees! There were big ol' trees. And Hen walked an entire mile long trail. Yes, at the end he was fussin' and I had to sing many rounds of "Shoo Fly" but, man, he walked and walked!

We went through Mill Valley afterwards and found Henry's Toyshop, a fantastic shop with quality toys to beat the band. Someone there knows good toys and I suspect it's Henry himself. But here's the kicker: the cashier heard me call over lil' H ("That's a garden hoe, Hen") and then gave us a free t-shirt with their logo because of his name!

Our own Henry shared some of our arugula pizza, shocking the socks off of us.

Mike made me stop on the way home so that he could buy some roadside cherries for $1.00.

First trip to the ocean!

Father's Day was spent at the ocean--H's own giant sandbox. Nothing could have filled my heart more than watching these two goons building a sandcastle.

The kids don't know what the jazz is all about!

Yesterday we went to the 30th Annual Cotati Jazz Festival (where "white people [were] dancing like white people" according to Mike) and the whole town square smelled like funnel cake. And corn dogs.

H choose our picnic lunch--California calamata olives, gouda cheese, sesame bread, and in-shell peanuts.

Later we headed to Petaluma to tour toy shops (they had nuthin' on this place) and candy establishments. Oh my word. Powell's Sweet Shoppe is a utopia. Every candy ever. I was texting like mad to my candy loving cohorts (Mallo cup=gross, btw, Mrs. Jones) and relishing in the continual loop of "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory." I steered H away at that rooster-getting-head-cut-off scene. Come over and I'll take you there.

SuperBumbleLion!

Up in the sky! Look! It's a bird! It's a plane! 

It's SuperBumbleLion!

Special thanks to Grandma for honoring H's request for a cape ("WITH A LION!" and reversible with bumblebees to boot!). Thank you, Mom!

And, straight from SuperBumbleLion's mouth, I give you this stream of consciousness rant that caused H to miss his afternoon nap. His head gears were just turnin' too hard to settle down! Verbatim, as fast as I could type:

Mister Cat is on fire! Mister Cat is on fire! It's called a special ceiling fan. It's called a special ceiling fan. Wanna eat breakfast? One and the lamp is ripped. One and the closet is ripped. One and the curtain IS RIPPED! The one monkey he NEEDS his mama! Trees are chopping. This one is a peanut. This is a nut. This is a peanut. This is another! Some are peanuts. Some are nuts. They are falling off the ceiling! Babies went down! Let's get an egg in! This leaning caterpillar is in trouble! No screws into the bed! Hold on and spokes!

Our day involved a lot of underpants. And the hose. And the playground.

Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow

Yesterday
H and I dropped Mike off for his first day as a law clerk (where you can bring your dog to the office!) and drove to the Rohnert Park Library for Toddler Storytime. He listened attentively, especially to the song lyrics about bumblebees, watched while I "shook out the wiggles" to a Raffi song (No, he did not do this with me. Yes, I stood on the carpet doing this by myself. Alone.), and signed up for their summer reading program. The children's section of this library could house our entire local Chicago branch. Stepping on soapbox: libraries are so important for instilling lifelong learning; they indicate where a community's priorities are/aren't. Hyde Park's library makes me sad every time I go.

Today
We drove to Honeybee Park today and climbed high on a rock wall, twist slides, and a too steep staircase.


Tomorrow
We will see if H is willing to let his mom potty train him. Um, yeah.

Bee's Knees

Our sunny Sunday lead us to Sift Cupcakery in town. I wanted a cupcake in honor of Lauryn, who would have graduated from East Troy High School today. H chose the June flavor of the month "Bee's Knees," which was lavender cake with a honey buttercream frosting. 

He mostly reveled in saying "bee's knees" repeatedly. Doi.

Note there are no photos of my "Bugsy" carrot cake cupcake. I ate it too quickly. Yes, he's wearing a bobby pin. Get over it.

Our morning was spent at the pool, per H's request, although tar sticking to his feet from the cracks in the concrete was more memorable than the water. We drove to nearby Lady Bug Park, but found everything uninspiring aside from the medieval tween jousting tournament going on in the adjacent grass (although, man, it was like looking into a crystal ball--future H clad with shield and duct tape sword; he even requested a cape--knight style--from a toy store in San Francisco last week: "Want to have that?"). Mai Vietnamese was our lunch stop and provided the following valuable lesson: if you are graced with a, say, reluctant or selective eater, put peanut sauce on his food and he will eat it. We made good on our promise to take him into the aquarium/reptile store if he ate lunch. Jeepers creepers, were those lizards big.

Lemon tree, Oball, Frisbee, a prairie dog?, HENRY ST.

Do I look like Cletus the Slack-Jawed Yokel when I take a photo of a lemon tree outside our front door? Probably. Is it illegal to use a lemon growing over a fence? Maybe. I'm not a lawyer.  

A beautiful morning in Windmill Farms started out with playing with H's Oball, which was one of his first toys as a babe. Do you have one of these things? It's like $6.00. I'll spot you if you don't have the cash. You really need one. Luckily our new playground comes equipped with a "squiggle wiggle" (metal spring-shaped climber). We seek these suckers out in Hyde Park. 

And then we tried to play Frisbee!

Until, totally unscripted, this happened:

We went into town to play at another park and to have lunch. We found a friend!

And, lastly, the fame.

2,268 Miles: Minneapolis to Cotati

Day 1
We started in Minneapolis: the car loaded with toys and sandals, graham crackers and small wax cheeses. Aunt Jen drove us southwest through Dullsville, Nebraska. We stopped for dinner at Perkins (the only place I could guarantee would have pancakes for H) and a gentleman at the table adjacent to us commented on H's good looks. I don't think he was hitting on him. Afterwards, Mike drove directly into the sun's too harsh light. We stopped for gas an hour outside of Denver and I'm certain all other patrons were meth users. I ate a donut. Jen drove again, pulling us into the garage just past midnight. If you need a driver, call Jen. I'll give you her number. Ask me.

Day 2
Denver was beautiful and hot. We headed to a local Stapleton pool where the mamas drink PBR at sunset and splashed with a number of toddlers and H's plastic crocodile--easily the most favorite toy on this journey ("Is he a 'metal door dile'? Is that what kind of dile he is?!"). 

Day 3

We said farewell to Dilly and drove north to Wyoming. There were two camels right at the state line (camels!) on a farm. H's response to my wild failing and shrieking about camels: "If we put them in the bush then they would be camouflaged" because he is apparently the Greatest Genius Kid Ever. Dullsville, Wyoming was, uh, dull, but Utah was stunning. We approached Salt Lake City as H was getting fussy (kids really DO say "Are we there?"), but here's a secret: if you keep your kid strapped in a car seat for eight hours, then the minute you let him/her out you are the Greatest Mom/Dad Ever. We let him jump on the double beds in our grimy little hotel room until the pizza.

Day 4

McDonald's breakfast through the Utah plains. We stopped at the Bonneville Salt Flats, which H kept trying to form into "snowballs" to "explode at dad."

In Reno we stayed at here for $32, which was nearly the cost of the onion rings we ate here. H was interested in the Wild Hunter's Tiger slot machine he saw near the hotel's front desk and stared out our floor to ceiling window in the evening, transfixed by the flashing neon.

Day 5

This is totally NOT a lie: when we approached the Nevada/California border, I turned on the radio to find an appropriate "We are entering California and, hence, some future stage of our lives" song. A song to tie everything together. A summer song. You know what came on? Do you? "Hotel California" came on. That is 100% not a lie.

I drove through Tahoe National Forest over wet and twisty, foggy and steep, "FALLING ROCK" and "RUNAWAY TRUCK AREA" mountains. We are expecting a forthcoming traffic violation because we didn't have the $4.00 toll required to pass into San Francisco via I-80 (Who ever has $4.00? Am I the Queen of England?!). We ate a hot fudge sundae and walked around Fisherman's Wharf and bought bread shaped like a turtle ("If you take the flippers off, then he can't swim!"). 

   

Mike was pleased to finally set foot in City Lights Books but then began the vertical assent back to our hotel on Lombard Street. Here's a letter I've drafted:

Dear San Francisco, 

Why do you hate strollers so much? Every street is like a roller coaster. It is ridiculous. Get it together.

Love,

Me

Day 6

I woke and trekked for an apple fritter far too early. Totally worth it. And then we hung around for tacos. Again, totally worth it. Mike drove us across the Golden Gate Bridge and north up to our new home in Windmill Farms in Cotati, California: 2,268.8 miles.