Everyone in the family is falling asleep with books in their hands these days. I’ve been absorbed in Irene Nemirovsky’s amazing, heartbreaking Suite Francaise; Tony’s filling a gap in his California history with Simon Winchester’s A Crack in the Edge of the World. Ben, as you see in this picture, is just trying to absorb as much information as he can (he alternates reading this encyclopedia and Experiments in Science: How Does it Work? a fabulous book of simple science experiments for ages 5 and up). And Eli lately takes Kipper to bed with him at every nap, clearly enjoying the message about not really tidying his basket; the current crib census includes 6 blankets (which he names as I lay them over him), his lovey (aka “patch blanket”), one mole, one knit bear, one lemur, one Pat the Bunny, one Piglet, one giraffe, one gorilla, one dachshund, one cow, one baby doll, two small stuffed dogs (Brown Doggie and Purple Doggie) and one plastic goat.

Eli (at 26 months) has used the potty three days in a row, and the Mama, PhD manuscript (at 363 pages) is in the mail to the publisher. These milestones seem all the more appropriately linked, to me, as Eli’s words for “pee,” “penis,” and “computer” are one and the same: “pee-pee.”

Dr. Freud would have a field day with this, I know.

I’m just happy we’re moving forward, and trust that by this time next year, Eli will be looking sharp in his big boy underwear and Mama, PhD will be looking beautiful in a hard cover.

3 am: Ben appears at my bedside, having dreamt that his Tinker Toys were attacking him. I scoot over and he climbs in. I tell him to imagine scoops of ice cream falling on the Tinker Toy monster’s head. We both drift back asleep.

3:30 am: Tony, squeezed to the edge of the bed, gets up and carries Ben back to his own room. I should sleep better now, but can’t relax, worrying about all the details involved in delivering my book to the publisher next week (next week!).

4 am: Earthquake. Tony flies out of bed and down the hall to check on Ben (sleeping). I stand in our doorway, next to Eli’s room, listening to his quiet breathing. After a few minutes’ waiting for aftershocks (from the earth or from the boys), we both go back to bed.

5 am: Eli wakes. Tony uncharacteristically sleeps through Eli’s calls, so I go into his room and tell him it’s still night time. “Mama awake,” he points out. True enough. I sit on the chair and put my head down on the arm rest: “Mama sleeping,” I say; “It’s still night time.” “Sit up, Mama,” he demands. “Lie down, Eli,” I counter. Remarkably, he does.

5:30 am: Eli is not quite asleep, but resting quietly, when Ben comes down the hall and into the room. I put my finger to my lips to ask him not to speak, then open my arms for him to climb into the armchair with me. We manage to wriggle into a halfway comfortable cuddle and he falls back asleep.

6 am: Ben’s bedroom feels like a mile away, so I carry him, sleeping, back into bed with me.

6:30 am: Ben wakes and crawls out of bed, then stands staring at me sleepily. “What’s up, buddy?” I ask, “Are you awake?” “No,” he says, and walks down the hall to his own bed.

7 am: Eli wakes. Tony gets up with him, leaving me to “sleep in” for another hour, the best hour of sleep all night.

The Children’s Playground in Golden Gate Park has finally reopened after a 2-year renovation, and today we walked over to check it out. Before it closed, it was really too big for Ben, besides being a nightmare of splintery climbing structures and broken swings. Now it’s got all the latest and greatest playground equipment, some of it shaded with huge canvas sails, all beautifully landscaped with flowering plants and grasses.

But the best part is the part that they didn’t change one bit, the 2-story concrete slide that Tony used to slide down when he was a kid, the slide that always has plenty of cardboard at the top for the kids to sit on as they slide down.

There’s a small concrete slide at Ben’s preschool, and another one at Mountain Lake Park, but this is the granddaddy of concrete slides, and today there were more than 2 dozen kids waiting their turn at the top. Even the littlest ones were patient enough to wait till the slider in front flew all the way down and then climbed clear of the bottom. And Ben was in the mix for an hour, sliding down, climbing back up, tugging his big scrap of cardboard up behind him, a huge smile on his face. Occasionally he’d turn and wave and shout “Keep your eyes on me, Mama! I’m gonna go super-fast this time!” and I’d wave back and call “I see you!” and watch with a grin plastered on my face, too, watching my cautious boy sail down that slide, over and over again.

The first day back from a trip back east is always a little slow, a little foggy (mentally and, in the summer, literally). Even when all the flights go well, the flight is looooong, and (because we like to have a bit of a visit still on the last day) we get home pretty late.

Still, we’ve been back just over 12 hours and I’ve unpacked the bags, done (though not yet folded or put away) the laundry, and called to get off the mailing list of most of the catalogues that came in our absence (Back in the Saddle? why, oh why??). Tony replenished the fridge, and the boys have built a new train track.

Meanwhile, our 6 days in Virginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania (an unexpected trip over the MD/PA border for a wedding breakfast; Elrena and Violeta, we waved in your directions!) included most of the requisite summer fun: running in sprinklers, catching fireflies, splashing in the local pool, and visiting with many cousins (first, second, and once-removed), aunts, uncles, nephews, and nieces.

Life is good. And although I’m sad to pack away my sun dresses and the boys shortie pj’s, I’m already thinking about a late summer trip east so that we can use them again.

Tony, who’s easier with numbers than anyone I know, likes to quote thirtysomething’s Miles Drentell: “the decimalization of time is so arbitrary.”

Indeed.

And yet, with Eli having just learned to count to 10, and Ben interested in Really Big Numbers (“What’s a trillion times a billion?”), and of course my recent milestone birthday, I’m thinking a lot about numbers lately. So here I go:

30: I throw a party for myself with a Baskin-Robbins ice cream cake (yum).
40: Tony organizes cocktails at the Top of the Mark and dinner at the Slanted Door with 7 other couples (some of whom, I’m happy to note, were at that 30th birthday party). I’m amazed we can all get babysitting. On my actual birthday, my sister makes me a delicious chocolate layer cake (the ganache alone uses nearly a pound of chocolate).

30: I’ve just met Tony (who meets most of my friends at that birthday party).
40: We’ve been married 7 years.

30: I’m just starting to write my dissertation.
40: I’ve just received the contract for my first book.

30: I haven’t any publications (but do have increasing anxiety about that as I wind up graduate school).
40: I’ve got my PhD (and no academic job), a regular column, one publication and a couple more forthcoming.

30: I have a niece (my goddaughter), a newborn nephew, and two close friends with kids.
40: I have Ben, Eli, and the more than dozen kids in our babysitting co-op, plus the niece and nephew, whom we visit as often as possible.

30: I’m renting a comfortable 2-bedroom apartment in North Berkeley with a grad school colleague.
40: I co-own a comfortable 4-bedroom home in San Francisco.

30: I’ve just started running.
40: No marathons or big running achievements, just the knowledge that running keeps me healthy, so I get out there two or three times a week for a run toward the ocean, into the park, or through the neighborhood.

30: I count my many blessings, happy to be out of my messy twenties.
40: I’m still counting my blessings, looking forward to what this next decade will bring.

At JetBlue’s terminal in JFK:

• 1 bottle of water $1.95
• 1 bottle of lemonade $2.99
• 1 tub of cut-up apples (with caramel sauce that I dumped in the trash before Ben noticed): $3.95
• 1 tub of strawberries and blueberries: $3.95
• 2 chunks of cheese: $.99 each
• 1 JetBlue airplane set: $19.95
• 1 bigger bottle of water: $3.95
• 1 copy of Lolly Winston’s Good Grief (which I have yet to open): $6.99
• 2 raspberry yogurts: $1.89
• 2 tubs of cold cereal: $3.50 each
• 2 bottles of milk: $2 each
• 1 package of barbecued tofu: $6.95
• 1 package of tofu cesar salad: $6.95
• 1 bottle of Advil: $6.95

Total elapsed flight delay: 6 hours
Total financial cost: $81.34
Summer vacation with family, despite everything: priceless!

A Wrung Sponge tagged me for this ages ago (she got it from Literary Teacher, who got it from HipWriterMama,
who got it from The Simple and the Ordinary; go read them, too!) and and I’ve been letting my post simmer on the back burner while other writing deadlines insisted on my attention.

So here are my personal policies, a mix (as my mom would say) of the sublime and the ridiculous:

We don’t wear shoes in the house. I don’t like to clean (more on that next) and this helps keep the dirt level down.

I try to clean while I’m doing something else. I’ll sweep or mop while I’m talking on the phone, I’ll clean the bathroom mirror while I’m brushing my teeth, I fold laundry while the boys are playing trains. This is partly the necessary multi-tasking of a part-time working-from-home mom, but it also lets me get things done while I’m focused on something more pleasant. The house stays relatively clean, and I don’t feel like I’ve spent lots of time on it.

I tell my guys I love them, a lot.

I get up before the kids to write every day, and I write again after they are sleeping.

I compost, recycle, turn off lights when I leave the room, carry canvas bags to the grocery store, shop locally, and do whatever else I can to keep this world clean (and cool) for my children’s children’s children.

I read to the kids every day, and eat dinner with the family every night.

I try to pass on the good that’s come to me, whether that’s financial (making charitable donations) or professional (connecting writers with editors; reading friends’ drafts) or personal (taking good care of my friends with babysitting, meals, other favors).

I pray.

I tag anyone else who wants to ponder their personal policies!

When Ben was about three, he started calling me Caroline. It didn’t bother me, really, and particularly since we were in the midst of a move, and he was about to become a big brother, I wasn’t going to quibble over it. Sometimes he called me Mama, sometimes he called me Caroline; I always answered.

“Caroline” has come and gone the past couple years, with no discernible pattern, though he definitely uses it more than Mama these days. Lately he’s started to call Tony (up till now always Dada) by his first name, too.

Now Eli’s gotten into the act, alternating his regular Dada with a new and emphatic “Da-deee” and calling me what he can manage of my first name: “Kay-rah” (sounds like a radio station, doesn’t it? “You’re listening to K-Rah: All Mama, All the Time…”) Maybe replacing Da-dee with To-neee is next?

This may seem very 70s and very California of us, that we let our kids use our first names, but it doesn’t really feel like that to me. This is far from how Tony and I were raised, far from what I expected of our family life, but turns out to be one of those surprises that I’m just fine with. I love my kids to call me Mama, but they say my first name with love, too, and that’s all that really matters to me.

I am all about encouraging kids to cook, to experiment with food, to hang out in the kitchen with me as much as possible. This often means creating a big mess, but I think the long-term gains (kids with healthy attitudes about food) are worth it. At the moment, my boys eat well, have strong opinions about food, and are happy to watch the Food Network with me when we fly on JetBlue. So far, so good.

So I was happy to learn about Spatulatta, a cooking show by and for kids. It’s not on network tv yet, just on the web, but they’re aiming more broadly. It’s a sweet show, with recipes and videos demonstrating essential kitchen skills, from separating an egg to arranging a Mother’s Day breakfast tray! If you agree that the show offers good, educational entertainment for kids, click on the survey at the website; the results may help them get their own PBS show!