No news is good news ... I guess

Wow. It has REALLY been a while since my last posting.

Suffice it to say that while things have been busy, they've also remained nicely consistent and predictable. David is deeply ensconced in his summer camp program at The Claremont Club, and has found a new passion: tennis. Mind you, it's not as strong a passion as his drumming, but nonetheless, he's loving it. Elizabeth has discovered the joys of trying on multiple outfits in the evening, and the even greater thrill of dumping said clothes onto the floor for mommy to pick up and wash. Again.

We have added two dogs to our household on a temporary basis, but not at the same time. The first, Maggie, a spry Cairn Terrier mix, came to us at the end of June, as her family is moving to the UK for a year for an academic sabbatical. Maggie hung out with us for about six weeks, and transitioned to her "permanent/temporary" home last week. It was the first time we had a girl dog in the midst. I am pretty sure that by the end of her stay, she and Lager had become a couple.

Zach is here with us for two weeks, now. His family is vacationing in Europe. He is an incredibly handsome Welsh Terrier. He is a happy little guy who jumps up and down. A lot. My nickname for him is "Boing Boing." I have yet to capture him mid-air on film, though.

Glen celebrated his 40th birthday on July 22, and we feted him with a grand luncheon Stone Brewery in Escondido. It's become somewhat of a birthday tradition for him to bike to Stone each year, and have the three of us meet him, feed him, serve him fine ales, and then drive his sleepy self home. This year was no exception, other than that we were joined by 25 other people who love Glen almost as much as we do.

David and Elizabeth, before the party starts

Glen's birthday cake, customized with sugar figures of our family (and bikes). This view: Glen and Davd

Same cake, but showing Janel and Elizabeth (and bikes)

Glen takes it all in

The birthday boy triumphantly foists the empty 9L bottle of St. Fuillien over his head

Glen and I celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary on August 4, and managed to sneak away to San Francisco (the actual CITY) for two days. Thank goodness for in-laws who are more than willing to let their grandkids hang out. David and Elizabeth had a high time at Memé and Pepé's house while Glen and I spent August 4-6 clocking more than 20 miles of walking throughout the city. It was good training for the Susan G. Komen walk I'm doing next month. Lots of eating was involved, to, with shout outs to Bix and North Beach Restaurant.

Glen and Janel, on a hike around Land's End in beautiful San Francisco

We're going on nine months of the commuter marriage adventure. And, yes, the passage of time has not made the complexities of household management any easier. Yet, our schedules and patterns are a lot more predictable now. I can tell, for example, what kind of mood the kids and I will be in within five minutes of climbing out of bed each morning. Coupled with that is the very real responsibility of setting the tone for the day. That job clearly falls in my lap. Our mornings are better when I address grumpy children and mild tantrums with unabashed humor. The more I make them laugh, the easier most any situation is diffused. Of course, this gets difficult when I run out of jokes. Goodness knows I'm no Jim Carey. But this evening David and Elizabeth were highly entertained when I began mimicking Elizabeth's high, squeeky whiney voice in a purposeful falsetto. At least to my ears, I was sounding (for a few minutes, at least) like the Muppet Prairie Dawn (see photo).

These months of temporary solo parenting have also prompted me to consider, out of necessity, what it is I need to do to take care of myself. I realize that one of the things irritates me the most is a messy house. Yes, I can manage the clutter of free-spirited play time. They need to play, and they need to run around the house, chasing each other with Nerf swords. But, at the end of the day, I really like it when they put their things away before hitting the sack. For me, a tidy home leads to peace in the kingdom. Negotiating clean up with a seven-year-old and four-year-old is not for amateurs. Such conversations can get complex and testy. I fear that the pressure I put on them to keep things straightened up may, in fact, be squelching their creativity, or that it may make David feel an added responsibility to do the work for both himself and his sister, because he's the oldest. So, therein lies the rub of finding that perfect balance between keeping it tidy and keeping it real.