Tomorrow afternoon we are going here to see Lila Downs. My cousin and his girlfriend are going to meet us, which is wonderful because we love to see them but rarely do. The woman performing with her sounds great, too. There was an article about her in the paper. I hope Willow lets me see the show!
Tonight we packed up the kids and some towels and sweatshirts and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and a big old Peter Max sheet that I used to sleep on when I was little and went to Capitola beach (only a forty minute drive –even on the weekend– thanks to knowing the super secret way that bypasses highway 1 altogether) to eat supper and play. Nate didn’t want to go, and wouldn’t admit that it was fun until right before bed. We had a good time anyway, except I kept hearing myself gripe at the boys not to go too far into the surf because it was all cross-currenty and drop offish and I prefer they splash in the sort of surf that is mostly straight across and flatish. I’d post pictures, but the memory problem with the computer won’t let me.
We didn’t get to eat the pb&js or the chips because of the fucking seagulls who ripped into our grocery sack and stole them while we were not looking. I should have known, but I forgot. We saw about five pelicans fly overhead. They look so huge, like they are too big to fly. And they fly slow, with powerful flaps of their wings. Sometimes at that beach we see dolphins offshore, but today there were about twenty fishing boats anchored about a hundred yards (? I’m so bad at guessing distance) out. We ate crackers, carrots and oranges and then got ice cream. We didn’t leave until nine, so the girls fell asleep in the car. The boys stayed up and had pizza with John at home, then a bath. I tidied up the kitchen, washed the towels and sandy clothes from tonight, mopped the floor, made the boys’ bed. It was nice to see that when the girls are just a little bigger doing those things will not be so. very. very. difficult. Right now I find that I’m often in tears because it is so incredibly frustrating to not be able to do dishes since Willow climbs into the dishwasher or needs me elsewhere. Then when I want to cook, the sink is overflowing and I have to do all kinds of work just to drain pasta and sometimes (like Friday night) the boiling pasta water spills out of the colander balanced in the sink and burns my foot and I say the f word in front of my boys and then say the s word cause I said the f word in front of them and then I’m glad I didn’t burn Willow, too, and, well, AHHHHHHHHHH! I just want to do the dishes. And I know that when Willow is too big to bug me while I do dishes I will feel sad about it. I’ll look back on this time and gloss it over and long for it. It is hard right now, though, when I’m dealing with the daily reality of having four kids under age 8 without any gloss.
Willow is starting to talk. She says Daddy, Lexy, Natey, doggy, and copies other words, too. Our bedroom door sticks and makes a scraping sound when we open it. For her whole life, John has worked nights and she knew that around lunchtime when she heard that scrape that he was awake and she’d see him. Now he is up and out of the house before we wake up, so when she gets up she thinks he’s here asleep. If I open or shut the door, she yells, “Daddy daddy daddy!!” and goes running all over the house looking for him. They’re so cute together. She always wants to be with him, and he’s so amazing with her. He even gives her his last bites of ice cream. I love my little family.