What a wonderful weekend

This post is 4 days in the making - oops.

We had a fabulous weekend! This is not to take anything away from my California friends - I love my friends here and We're very blessed in the people we've met through work/church/the neighborhood. But there's something about spending time with an old friend. One who has known you since before you were even dating your husband, someone who you've known since her daughter (now a full on teenager) was William's age. It's awesome.

Brittany had a tax conference in San Francisco last week so we had planned for her to stay through the weekend and we'd head up there after work on Friday. By the time we got there it was bedtime for all, but we wanted to be able to get up and moving Saturday morning rather than waste precious daylight driving up there.

Saturday we were complete tourists. We started our day by having breakfast at one of the recommended breakfast spots in Brittany's tourist magazine. One of the cool things about San Francisco is how old it is - the famous restaurants have been around for decades and they're so unique. After breakfast we spent half an hour trying to figure out how best to catch a trolley - apparently a popular thing on weekends! But we finally caught one and headed down to ghiradelli square.

I think I expected more from ghiradelli square - but hey, they had chocolate - what else could I really expect?

William and Austin had fun running around and playing in the square, so I guess that was a good bonus too.

Somehow by the time we finished there it was already lunch time. I felt like we had just eaten, but we were all hungry so I guess that trolley ride took it all out of us. We relied again on Brittany's tourist book from her hotel and found a restaurant that claimed to have the best Irish coffee in the world. How could we not challenge that?

We were skeptical as we read the reviews - how could it be the best? Isn't it all the same? But when we walked in we noticed not a single person was drinking anything besides the Irish coffee. So it had to be something special right?

It was a weird structure for a restaurant - they do not seat customers, you seat yourself which means there are a ton of vulchers lurking around the tables. Also, if there are empty seats at someone else's table, you just pop a squat and make new friends. So, the 4 of us paired up with a group of 3 and stole a 7 top when it opened. It was pretty fun!

After lunch we went back to the trolley (good thing we bought a day pass) and headed back to the hotel. I had aspirations of Brittany and I sneaking down to union square while William napped, but what happened was we all 4 fell asleep - and I'm pretty sure William fell asleep last! Saturday afternoon nap...is there anything better???

After we all slowly woke up we...you guessed it...hopped back on the trolley to go down to the fisherman's wharf for dinner. William's parents, God bless them, didn't plan well for the weather so the poor child needed a new hat and new jacket.

What a big little minion I have!!!

We had dinner at an upstairs restaurant and had the perfect seats for the surprise fireworks at 8:30. William was so excited!

So, the day flew by and it seemed to revolve around food, but it was one of the best days. It was so refreshing to see Brittany and have all day to just talk and do nothing significant - it was so needed, and I loved every minute.

William Wednesday

I should really quit being surprised by William's manipulative and argumentative skills. But he gets me every time!

First, we went to a friend's house Sunday for football. He took toys to play with and at one point asked if he could play in the backyard. I said yes but told him he had to stay on the concrete because there wasn't grass, only dirt, so I didn't want him to get too dirty before we left. He said 'ok mommy I will' and went and played. 10 minutes later I walked outside and had trouble even finding the concrete beneath the mound of sand he had scooped over:

I said 'William you're so dirty!' And he said 'I'm on the concrete mommy'. Yes, yes you are. And clearly I dressed you appropriately for the day. Guess I better start saving for Harvard Law.

Last night we went to our friends' house. It was our small group night but instead of continuing with week 9 of our study, our leader wanted to have dinner and game night. We had a lot of fun and William loved playing with their daughter Elizabeth. He talks about her a lot and loves to go to her house to play. Usually he stays there with her and the babysitter so he was very comfortable in the house. 

They have three beautiful harps in their living room. The first time I saw them I thought to myself, 'oh man William would destroy those things if they were in our house'. Well, about 1.5 hours into our night I realized there was some pretty, yet random, music coming from behind me. I turned around to see William playing the harp. My heart jumped into my throat ad all I saw was his college fund being cashed out to buy a new harp, or at least repair a broken one. I said, 'William please do not play with that. It's not a toy and I don't have enough money to replace it if it breaks'.  He turned to me and said, 'Elizabeth's grandma says we can play like this' and proceeded to show me how to play it.

Elizabeth's grandmother babysat the first night he was there and apparently his listening ears were functioning just fine that night.

But, in addition to being a true manipulator, he's also a boy after his mommy's heart. Or at least a boy who wants to tug on the strings of my heart. I think I've shared that he likes to pick leaves for me. Some days when I pick him up from school he has a leaf in his cubby that he picked for me during the day. Some moms get flowers, some get mud pies; I get leaves! And you better believe I love every one. Well, Sunday on our walk to church from the parking lot he must have loved me extra because I got 4! 

I was instructed to keep them in my purse, so of course I did. They are my little love letters from my boy. He plays me like a fiddle. Or maybe a harp.

William Wednesday

The Voice has a song stuck in my head, and if you just change one word it applies to William's week:
This boy is on fire! (but you have to read fire like fye-ya)

He's been SO funny this week.  I am going to attempt to remember all of the little things, with a little help from my texts I sent to Austin.  I'll start with this morning and work my way backwards until I just can't remember anymore.

I usually go turn his light on in his room around 6:00 then give him 15-20 minutes to slowly wake up while I finish getting ready.  Then I go back in and get him out of bed.  Only today, when I went back in he wasn't there.  I went downstairs to see if I could find him and he was standing on the bench by the counter, where he sometimes eats breakfast.  I asked what he was doing and he said, "I am just waiting".  I told him we should go potty, but he informed me he already had.  So I asked, "Did you go in your pants or in the toilet?"  "Oh, in the garage"  WHAT?!  I asked what he meant by that and he said, "come see mommy.  i had to peepee mommy!"

I spent the next 15 minutes rotating between fighting my internal laughter, and being angry that he PEED IN THE GARAGE.  Boys will be boys I guess!

Austin has been on duty platoon this week which means we've seen very little of him.  It also means William and I get lots of special time just for us.  Monday when I picked him up he said he wanted to have dinner from a restaurant, so we went to Papa Chanos, his choice.  When we got there he saw a rather heavyset man and said, "mommy, who is that man with the big baby in his tummy?"..........how do you teach that??????????

Monday he was really on fire because I think I sent Austin about 10 different funny stories.  After dinner we went to Target to get a few things and I think I laughed the entire time.  He saw a young man who had a shaved head and everytime we passed him he said, "hey pop!"  The man looked nothing like pop (Herb is pop, fyi) but I guess his bald head had William convinced.  The guy eventually started responding by saying hi back!  One of the things we were at Target to do was to get Pop a birthday card.  William found one that sings, "do a little dance, make a little love, get down tonight" and he started dancing in the cart.  He said we needed to buy it for pop, and then he said he needed a new speaker for his radio in his room (radio=my old iPod, which had a speaker that is now deceased) and when he got a new speaker he needed that song on it.  Um - inappropriate much???

I know there's more, but as it turns out they're all just little silly things that had me cracking up but are probably lost in translation here :)  

Other than that we've had a great week!  I am loving this almost-4 age.  He's so funny and smart, fun to hang out with - a real blast.  He has been talking a lot about all of the exciting things we have coming up.  We have a visitor coming in 2 weekends, another the very next weekend, and then just 3 more weeks until we get to go to "the fun place" (the hunting lease...where the peeing outside was born and apparently never died...)  The end of the year is near and, as always, it's going to shape up to be a busy one!  But I'm really excited to spend it with my big big boy.

Love-Hate, hate-hate

I would say, after last night's terrible experience, 'all I have to say is I hope texans fans treat opposing fans with more respect' - but that's not entirely true. I have a lot more to say than just that.

But let's start there. I was appalled at a large bulk of the fans we encountered. I've been an opposing fan before, and I've heckled opposing fans before, but never have I felt like people's lives may be in danger for waving the flag of their preferred team. And I think at some point someone's life was in danger as the police swarmed and the whole north end of the stadium watched a fan fight instead of a football thrashing. I don't know if it was 49ers against texans in the stadium or if they were going after their own - either is very likely. But, the amount of cops in the big tailgating area of the parking lot really should have tipped me off to the fact that San Francisco is only marginally better than their counterparts across the bay. But they sure love for Oakland to take the heat!

I'll move on. Not because I'm out of things to say, but because that wasn't the most disgusting part of my evening. No, that came at the hands of the people I paid way too much money to see. 

Last year I had a love-hate relationship with football season. I loved it; I hated the anxiety, but I loved it. In the end I always had at least one win on the weekend between my teams, and even weekends with losses had glimmers of hope. This year though, all my hopes are riding on a 20 year old kid with behavior issues(who sure can throw the football!) because the texans sure aren't doing anything for me. I'm sick of hating other teams simply because they can execute an entire football game. I'm sick of hoping someone breaks a foot bone to ensure they're out for the season but they'll be fine. And I'm sure sick of standing behind Matt schaub because 'he's our guy'.

I saw someone's post on Facebook about how she feels bad for schaub and the verbal thrashing he's taking. She reminded everyone he's just a man trying to do his job and we should treat him with love just as we would if he was our cousin or brother. I agree - sort of. He doesn't need our verbal abuse, but I can say for certain if he were my cousin he'd hear about it from me. I don't think we need to go so far as to have jersey burning parties or stalk him in his neighborhood or any other form of hateful treatment, but I certainly don't see why he's been left in the game after his dismal performance over the last 4 weeks. He's just a man trying to do his job, I get that. But if a man isn't doing his job well, he needs to be replaced. At least for the time being.

He's not alone though. While he is a huge part of why we are 2-3 ( 4 weeks throwing a TD to the wrong team won't help you much) he's not the only one. Our play calling is atrocious. I've been a Kubiak fan since he got hired but I'm pretty sick of his poor and always predictable play calling. It's not working coach - change your tune. And while most fans will stop there and say those 2 are our problem, I think it goes deeper than that. Arian foster needs to get over his ego and stop whining on the sidelines because Ben Tate is getting some playing time. (True story, I watched it). Ed Reed may as well be on the bench cause he sure doesn't seem to care. He dooped our organization into thinking he had one more good year, then 'somehow' needed hip surgery, and he runs around the field like he's playing thanksgiving backyard football before he stuffs himself with turkey. He is not the Ed Reed of Baltimore, and he sure doesn't seem to care. He just needed to get as much cash in his pocket before retirement as possible. Thanks Houston, mission accomplished. And should we talk about special teams? Can I ask who told Keyshawn Martin to run kick returns out when he started 5+ yards deep in the end zone? It worked one out of five times. He needs to know his team and know himself enough to know when to kneel the ball. He's not trindon Holliday, he needs to play like he knows that.

Ahh, trindon Holliday. My heart hurts every time I see him flash across sports center. One of the biggest mistakes kubiak has made.

So - we have a lot of problems. It's not just Matt Schaub, but I bet even with the other problems Tom Brady or Peyton manning could make wins out of it. I waited patiently while we built our franchise and I cheered my heart out as we celebrated 6 wins, 7 wins, 8 wins. But to have a team with this amount of talent and be 2-3!?? This is ridiculous.

I wish I could take it with a grain of salt like my husband who continued to banter with the few friendly fans we could find. I wish I could be like my brother and say all games are worth seeing in person, no matter what the outcome. But I guess I'm more of a sore loser than I would like to be.  I wish I could just quit caring. I wish I could quit watching. But, I know next Sunday I'll turn on my tv and watch with hopes that we've figured something out. Because even though it seems to be a hate-hate relationship these days, I can't ignore the fact that I love the game.

Out of the mouths of babes

Last night we had our small group and William stayed with the babysitter they coordinated. The leaders of the group had been using this sitter so they arranged for her to watch any kids of the group (which for now is just their one and our one) She watches the kids at their house while we are at the neighborhood community center down the street. It works great and William loves their daughter. She's 1 and he told me all week he wanted to go back to her house and that he has to be very gentle with her cause she's a baby. 

I asked the sitter how he was and she said he was perfect - duh :) she said she asked him if he had any siblings. They had this conversation:

Do you have any siblings?

Little by little

What? What does that mean?

Little by little.

Do you have a little brother or sister?

No

Is there one in your mommy's tummy?

Not yet. Soon. Maybe February.

While I sure hope I don't have to wait until February I really don't know where he got any of that! Don't know if it's funny or intuitive or both. But he has been telling us lately that he wants a baby sister and a baby brother. And the baby brother will be named Case. He has voiced an opinion on a baby sister's name but I'm betting it's just a matter of time. Sounds like he's got it all planned out!

What would have been right?

I swear I saw Reagan last night.

Don't go thinking I'm nuts. I swear it was him! I was driving home from the gym and saw a big fat orange tabby sitting on a homeless man's cart. I almost ran myself off the road trying to get a good look to see if it was him, but thankfully my brain told me to steer straight and keep going.

And then I started to cry. My homeless cat, who we've long boasted is our home protection agent, is living with a homeless man in Monterey. I called Austin to tell him and he said that when I got home we could all go back and see if it was Reagan. I got home, he had Reagan's carrier in hand, and off we went.

Ok. Pause. Let's think this through. What on earth did I expect to happen? We were going to walk up to a homeless man, demand he give us his cat, load the 25 pound beast of an animal (he may be pushing 30 now) into a Carrier and take him home? As if he remembers me? As if he wants to live with me??? After all, he did run away to begin with. 

And what about diseases? Health issues? Reintegrating animals? And how on earth did I think we'd convince a homeless man (likely mentally unstable) that the cat was, in fact, mine?

Clearly we didn't think all of that through as we drove back to the scene of the sighting.

As we drove up we saw the man covering the cat with a blanket. Austin did have a moment of clarity as he pointed out the likelihood that it was not Reagan. He was basing this solely on the fact that the cat was sitting...still...on a cart. Reagan wasn't one to be contained. But, maybe he was drugged? Yes - that was my argument back. It must be Reagan because how many 25 pound orange tabbies live in Monterey? It can only be one.

So Austin opened his wallet and said 'ok. If it's Reagan I can offer him 25 bucks and hope he gives him up'. What a husband...he was willing to empty his wallet for a cat he never even liked. Anything to stop the tears, I'm sure.

He got out of the car, approached the man, and not 15 seconds later he was back in the car. He said he had asked the man what kind of cat it was, the man said North American. He then asked if he could see it and the man responded, 'I really can't, I've got to get back to my program' as he pointed to his headphones.

How rude!!!! And yet, what did I expect? I cried most of the way home and wished I had just never seen the cat. Maybe it was Reagan, maybe it wasn't, but it sure wasn't mine. Would I have been wrong to try to take it? Or just stupid for thinking a homeless man would choose $25 over his pet?

I miss my Reagan beagan. If it was him, I'm at least glad to know he has someone who loves him...and sort of takes care of him.

What would have been right?

I swear I saw Reagan last night.

Don't go thinking I'm nuts. I swear it was him! I was driving home from the gym and saw a big fat orange tabby sitting on a homeless man's cart. I almost ran myself off the road trying to get a good look to see if it was him, but thankfully my brain told me to steer straight and keep going.

And then I started to cry. My homeless cat, who we've long boasted is our home protection agent, is living with a homeless man in Monterey. I called Austin to tell him and he said that when I got home we could all go back and see if it was Reagan. I got home, he had Reagan's carrier in hand, and off we went.

Ok. Pause. Let's think this through. What on earth did I expect to happen? We were going to walk up to a homeless man, demand he give us his cat, load the 25 pound beast of an animal (he may be pushing 30 now) into a Carrier and take him home? As if he remembers me? As if he wants to live with me??? After all, he did run away to begin with. 

And what about diseases? Health issues? Reintegrating animals? And how on earth did I think we'd convince a homeless man (likely mentally unstable) that the cat was, in fact, mine?

Clearly we didn't think all of that through as we drove back to the scene of the sighting.

As we drove up we saw the man covering the cat with a blanket. Austin did have a moment of clarity as he pointed out the likelihood that it was not Reagan. He was basing this solely on the fact that the cat was sitting...still...on a cart. Reagan wasn't one to be contained. But, maybe he was drugged? Yes - that was my argument back. It must be Reagan because how many 25 pound orange tabbies live in Monterey? It can only be one.

So Austin opened his wallet and said 'ok. If it's Reagan I can offer him 25 bucks and hope he gives him up'. What a husband...he was willing to empty his wallet for a cat he never even liked. Anything to stop the tears, I'm sure.

He got out of the car, approached the man, and not 15 seconds later he was back in the car. He said he had asked the man what kind of cat it was, the man said North American. He then asked if he could see it and the man responded, 'I really can't, I've got to get back to my program' as he pointed to his headphones.

How rude!!!! And yet, what did I expect? I cried most of the way home and wished I had just never seen the cat. Maybe it was Reagan, maybe it wasn't, but it sure wasn't mine. Would I have been wrong to try to take it? Or just stupid for thinking a homeless man would choose $25 over his pet?

I miss my Reagan beagan. If it was him, I'm at least glad to know he has someone who loves him...and sort of takes care of him.