Kayaking with My Boy

One of the highlights of our vacation, for me, was going kayaking in Bodega Harbor with my oldest son. After breakfast we prepared the kayaks and walked over the mound to the small boat launch perched on the southern side of the harbor waters. To the left of us was the harbor mouth, which opened into the shallow bay and the huge Pacific Ocean.

We hopped off the boat pier, climbed over the slimy rocks, and across the small sandy beach. With one more look out at the blue-filled morning, we pushed off and headed up into the harbor. Following the shallow shoreline we found ourselves gliding over a deep kelp forest. Looking into its depths, I was humbled...and a little frightened. Just a few feet below, the clear cold water went dark, hiding the rest of the depths.

We moved from the shoreline out a little closer to the boat markers and found ourselves above the open grey-green waters. To our left, in the center of the channel, a family of seals popped above water and paced with us. A few looked over, to see what we were about before all of them dipped under. A few markers ahead they popped back up in our path. They kept about the same distance either to our left or in front, though once or twice a dark shadow glided below our kayaks, making us wonder where they were hanging when below surface.

Parkour Boy was having a blast and being fit, I found myself - a pretty good kayaker - working to keep pace with him.

About thirty minutes in we paused to take a sip and decide which way we wanted to go from there, when I looked down and weaving through the kelp was a small bat ray. It continued underneath me and then wound back around, underneath Parkour before going back into the depths of the kelp forest. My only regret was not getting the camera out in time to take a photo of it. (I included a stock image for those of you who've never seen a bat ray before.)

On our way back, we got quite a workout as the tide was still coming in. At a couple points we were paddling and not going anywhere. It was fun, going nowhere, and laughing with my son though. He's so strong and resilient with such an adventurous spirit.

I was pooped by the time we made it back to the bay side of the beaches, where the rest of the family was waiting and hanging out. I fell onto the beach blanket with my jelly arms and legs while my son went off with his sister to check out a rumored coastal cave up around the bend.

What a moment I hope Parkour Boy will cherish into adulthood. I know I will.

And the Winner is...

A month ago, Parkour Boy threw down a challenge. Who could draw the best and most original comic hero.

Hubby and I accepted. Drama Queen accepted until she withdrew a couple weeks later...I think due to procrastination.

So, last night was the showing and final decision. Parkour, as the challenger got to choose who showed first, and of course he picked himself (cocky little butt).

Imagine Hubby and I's big "gulp" when he unveiled this:



Dad was up next, and I must say, he put a lot of effort into it:



Okay, okay. I was last to show and really not wanting to. I used to draw (still do sometimes) but am more into nature/scene sketches. I'm horrible at forms....all right, I know. I've stalled enough. Here's mine:

It was a fun little family competition and we enjoyed a good laugh and also admiration for Parkour Boys talent.

...Oh, who won? Well, who do you think of course...the young "whipper snapper".

Lost in Translation

"When I get to Super Daycare's house, I'm going to tell her I love her," Holy Terror says as I help him tie his shoes.

I smile. Super Daycare was the little boys daycare lady for a long time and they still go every so often to visit and love it.

"Then, I'm going to tell her she's beautiful," he adds.

"Aren't you just a regular Don Juan," I say with a laugh.

Holy Terror looks quizzically at me. "What's a Don Juan?"

"Don Juan's are boys who say pretty things to girls to make them feel good about themselves," I reply, tapping his shoe. Intrigued, he smiles and I continue. "So, are you a Don Juan?"

"Yes," he answers. Parkour Boy comes in. "I'm a Don Juan."

"What's a Don Juan?" Parkour asks while looking for his jacket.

"A boy who does pretty things to girls."

Parkours halts and looks at me, shocked.

....uh, yeah. That knowledge didn't transfer quite right.

Sound From the Frig

Parkour Boy and I knelt in front of the the refrigerator. Drama Queen stood right behind us, gnawing her lower lip. The clock ticked loudly from the front room. Hazae meowed inquisitively from the counter.

"Shhh!!!" we all urged in unison, not looking away from the frig.

We stared. We listened. We waited.

Girgle, girgle, glup.

"See?!" Parkour Boy exclaimed looking at me in grossed-out confusion.

Drama Queen squealed and jumped lightly foot-to-foot. "Oh, my God! What is that?!"

The cat meowed loudly.

"...I have no idea," and here's where it's obvious I'm a mommy dominated by very boyish boys, "I hope it's not a mouse with diarrhea."

Dinosaur Keeper

Super Wy comes running in from the backyard.

"Mom, Mom, where are my shoes?!" He asks bouncing up and down on his toes. "I got to work."

"What are you going to do, Honey?" I ask absently while reading over my daughter's chosen high school electives for next year.

His face goes very serious and he points like a instructor. "I'm picking up dinosaur poo."

I try very hard not to scrunch my face is disgust. Before I can follow up on that little jewel he continues.

"I need ta' pick up Dinosaur poo and find dinosaur eggs."

From the kitchen my oldest son's head pops out, a big guilty grin on his face. I remember it is his turn to pick up the dog droppings from the backyard.

"Moooommmmm...where's my shoes?!"

Now, my dilemma: Do I let my littlest enjoy the "adventure" or do I admonish my eldest for trickery?

"They're in the closest. Have fun."

...Why dash his hopes?

Funny Little Youngling

Parkour Boy smiles and lays several sketches on the counter for me to see. "Check these out, Mom. I'm working on some new logos and these are three of the top ones."

His eyes shift ever so slightly and he nibbles his lower lip. Now, I know these actions together means he's holding back a request for something. Of course, I don't let him know I know this.

I eye the three very good sketches and point out the parts I like best. I also make suggestions to improve some other parts. He nods and agrees with everything I'm saying.

This is because of two main things:

1. He knows I'm an artist and it's one subject where he listens to me almost 95% of the time
2. He really wants me to say yes to something so feels butt-kissing is the most effective tactic

I ruffle his hair and smile at the end of my little comments and say, "Well done, Honey."

I then grab my soda and start back to my writing area. He's behind me, and I can feel the request about to happen.

"You're not using those sketches for a tattoo," I add as I head down the hall.

I hear, and pretend I don't hear, his whispered curse. "When can I get a tattoo then?"

I laugh, and laugh, and laugh all the way into the back room.

...Oh what a funny little youngling...

NO...That's A Baby!

"Oh, look! He had the hugest eyes when he was little," Drama Queen exclaims holding up a baby picture of Parkour Boy.

Super Wy and Holy Terror rush over to see.

"Awwww! That baby is so cute!" Super Wy brings it over so he can show me. "See the baby?"

"Yeah. That's Parkour Boy when he was little." I smile at him.

"No, that's a baby," Super Wy clarifies, then points over at Parkour Boy at the other end of the couch. "That's Parkour."

"I know, Honey. But this baby is Parkour Boy when he was first born."

"NO. This is a baby. THAT is Parkour." Super Wy clarifies very slow and simple, so I may understand.

"I know. They're both Parkour. THIS one when he's little and him over there when he's a big boy."

Super Wy looks at me like I'm crazy, shakes his head sadly, and walks away.

Parkour Boy Turns Fifteen

"Three more years and I am on my own!" Parkour Boy smiles and tosses in a fist pump.

My heart cracks a little more and I fight back the tears. I smile, nod, and give my best "Mom-style" fist pump (the kind intended for full embarrassment impact).

Everyone else sees a young man growing into adulthood. I can see that too. But what they don't see?

The little toddler who squealed over dump trucks and fell in love with C3PO. The young boy of 5 who, for years, introduced himself as a paleontologist. The little toe-head who would run and jump in my lap and cuddle, but refuse to hold my hand in the store because he was "a big boy".

If I close my eyes real tight I can feel him as a baby wrapped tight in the nook of my arms. When we're on the beach I can look at him in the distance walking with his dad...and I'm not seeing the teenager in deep discussion. I'm seeing the little boy giggling and holding Daddy's hand.

I love him so much, and I'm proud he's independent, strong-willed, and excited to start his own adventure. But my heart breaks a little bit more the closer he gets.

Why am I a babbling mess? A cry baby at the drop of a hat? Happy one moment and completely a wreck the next?

Monday, Parkour Boy turns 15.

Don't get me wrong...I am happy but as any Mom will tell you, it's a double-edge sword. Each milestone ahead of them is farther away from you and your protective wings. And I'll admit, with Parkour Boy it's a little keener than the others. He's my first and the most like me. He's the one who altered my whole life. I looked into those baby blue eyes in the hospital and could feel the shift. THUD! My heart fell for him and I was from that moment on a Mother.

He's my poet, my artist, and my adventure partner. He's fearless, tiresome, internal yet goofy too. He's a brooder and a natural cynic. Parkour's an old soul who's ready to take each moment in depth and draw from it the most he can.

God, I love him (oh man, here come the tears again...damn it).


Happy birthday, Honey. I love you very much.

Teenage Mom Moment

Someone knocked on the door. I set aside the laptop and went to answer it. At the door was a cute, shy teenage girl looking about two seconds away from whithering.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Um, is Billy here?" She asked. Her face darkened two more shades of red.

I tried to keep a neutral face, though I badly wanted to laugh. "No, he's hanging downtown with his friends today."

Her face clearly showed the let down. "Oh, do you know when he gets back?"

"A little after 4. Was he expecting you?"

She shook her head "no", gave a weak smile, and hurried away. I closed the door, sidestepping to the front window. From across the street, hiding behind the neighbor's bush, popped out a blonde teenage girl. They talked on the sidewalk a few moments, then headed off down the street a little dejected.

I would've felt bad for them more...but I was too busy trying to figure out why she was behind the bush.

Patience is a Virtue Holy Terror Does Not Contain

Sunday Morning. Just awake, Parkour Boy stumbles into the kitchen in search of food. Holy Terror has been in watch for him for almost two hours, and pounces.

“Billy, let’s play Star Wars Lego game!” He hops from foot to foot, looking up at him with big, round blue eyes.

Parkour Boy grabs the cereal and heads to get the bowl. “I gotta eat first, Buddy.”

“Let’s play now! Come on, Billy,” Holy Terror begs, doing a light tapping stomp.

“No, I gotta eat first.” Parkour Boy grumbles, sitting down at the breakfast table.

Holy Terror runs over to me, very upset. “Billy said we couldn’t play video games!”

“Give him a moment to wake up and eat.”

“But he said no!”

“I didn’t say no. I gotta eat first,” Billy clarifies through a mouth full of Fruit Loops.

“Moooommmmm!” Brenny wails.

“You’ll play when he’s done eating.” I look down at his cute, yet distressed, little face. “Be patient.”

Holy Terror shakes his whole body in a convulsing motion. “I can’t be patient!”

…Don’t I know it…that was like asking a whale to walk.

Losing Your Marbles

I could hear Holy Terror arguing with Billy in the frontroom...it was getting heated. Finally, he comes stomping into our room where we're still laying.

"Billy won't let me play with those little balls!" he cried.

"They're marbles, honey, and are Billy's," I replied.

"But I want to play with them!"

"His marbles are very important to him and he doesn't want them lost," I said.

...Really, does anyone want to lose their marbles?!