Baseball Fans in Training

Eight (eight!!) years ago, we headed to Spring Training in Scottsdale with our friends T and Carrie, took in a few baseball games, bumped into some players at a Scottsdale bar, and even road-tripped to the Grand Canyon, braving icy temperatures for a hike down into the valley.

Here's a peek at us back then, before we had a digital camera -- we used a disposable Kodak camera, and it looks like it was snowing in all of the photos.

We decided to do it all again last week -- minus the Grand Canyon -- with five kids in tow. Let's just say it was a pretty different trip. We juggled babysitting duties, five little ones in water wings or floaties, nap times and bed times, and saw a lot less baseball than we did in 2003. But we were still with great friends, and managed to relax, unwind, and enjoy the Arizona sun!

After an entire day of refusing to put his face in the water, Joey finally remembered his swim lessons from last summer, and he spent a lot of time having "Grace Races," giggling, and flirting with his little girlfriend Grace.

Clara loved her new "flower goggles," and paddled around the pool in a pink flower-shaped floatie until she turned into a prune.

Molly stayed on dry land quite a bit, but loved the water when she was in it.

At Scottsdale Stadium, the Giants played while our kids slept, ate, and monkeyed around.

The two Lincecums critiqued the bullpen.

On the way home, we piled all the "big kids" into their own row at the very back of the plane, and employed some unorthodox methods to keep them quiet: trail mix, fruit snacks, and tape. Tim's parenting guide will be at a bookstore near you soon!

Raise Your Glass!

Our little Irish lass rang in her very first St. Patrick's Day with four-leaf clover headgear and a celebratory beverage. Is there any better start, with a name like Molly May?




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Girl Mom

Having a son plunges you into a foreign landscape filled with trucks, trains, balls, and dirt. He forces you to notice construction sites, linger in sporting goods stores, and play hard in playgrounds long after others have called it a day.

You get used to stripping your little boy of muddy boots before he walks in the door, checking his pockets for rocks and treasures before throwing his pants in the washing machine, and contending with his man-size appetite. You collect more knowledge about dinosaurs, planets, and superheroes than you ever dreamed you would amass.

You have the privilege of receiving impossibly fierce hugs, achingly sweet head butts, and sticky peanut butter and jelly kisses... your little boy expressing his love for his mother in ways that little girls just don't.

Your house is littered with evidence of your boy: toy cars, wooden train tracks, teeny-tiny superhero weapons, extra-large grass-stained pants. As you shake sand out of his hair, scrape dirt out from underneath his fingernails, and dump him into the bathtub, it seems impossible to imagine a different parenting experience.

And then, one day, you realize that yes, you're a Boy Mom, but you're also somehow morphing into that species that you've observed from afar for years now: a Girl Mom.

Before Clara was born, and even well into her toddlerhood, I would watch, slack-jawed, as Girl Moms went about their daily routines. Their world was filled with puzzling objects like nightgowns, impossibly tiny underwear, high-heeled princess shoes, lip gloss, and actual kid-size combs and brushes that were used daily to secure hair accessories in childrens' hair. I would see these moms trip over baby dolls and miniature strollers, minuscule Cinderella slippers, and toy food. They had to keep track of clothing items that seemed bizarre and useless, and made getting dressed a squirmy, complicated affair. Tights. Bloomers. Headbands. Cardigans. I could never get over how pink it all was.

Nearly a year has gone by since I began rearing multiple girls. I should have realized months ago that I AM one of those girl moms now. But it took a Target shopping trip last week with just Clara and Molly in tow to show me that I'm waist-deep in those once-mysterious pink waters.

We lingered in the shoe department while Clara oohed and aahed over sequined flip-flops. We spent way more time than Joey would have allowed in the girls' toy aisle. We squealed over some princessy beach towels. And we capped it all off by trying on some cardigans from the toddler racks.

As we loaded our goodies onto the checkout counter, an older woman got behind me in line, and watched as Clara hopped up and down clutching a purple My Little Pony. She gave me a knowing look.

"Girls!" she said. "You must be having fun!"

A part of me felt traitorous for abandoning my Boy Mom past, but as I turned to the register, gently nudging my pig-tailed little girl forward, and hitching up my baby's pink trimmed socks, I couldn't keep the smile off my face.

10 Months Old!

She's mastering her "wave," cutting her top teeth, insists on feeding herself, scoots backwards like a pro, might be the most enthusiastic Jumperoo fan ever, and lights up like it's Christmas when her Daddy enters the room. We can't believe she's already 10 months old!

Here's some shots from the last month!

Champions of the World

(Cue the Chariots of Fire soundtrack.)

Joey and his Bear Cubs teammates rocked their Lamorinda indoor soccer season, finishing on Saturday as champions for their age group.  Comprised almost entirely of boys from his preschool class, and led by one rockstar girl athlete, they fumbled their way to a win at almost every game, celebrated with Capri Suns and granola bars, and had about as much fun as five year-olds can have in a school gymnasium.

Joey got off to a humbling start when he scored a goal in his own net during the first game, rallied toward the end of the season with a couple of lucky goals, but generally left the skilled dribbling and kicks to his nimbler, more agile teammates. A power kicker rather than a footwork guy, he could be counted on to boot the ball almost all the way down the field, even if no teammate was there to receive it, and earned his keep mostly by playing goalie and defense.

The team celebrated their win by descending en masse on Moraga's ice cream shop.

Next up? Little League! It starts next month, and I'm not sure who's more excited, Joey -- who will be sporting the cutest little pair of baseball pants you've ever seen -- or Tim, who will be head coach!

P is for...

Is it set in stone that in these early parenting years, your household will be hit with the stomach flu every winter? No matter how careful we are with handwashing, and no matter how vigilant we are with flu shots, we haven't escaped this evil illness yet.

This time around, I lost two days of my life tending to a very sick Joey and an even sicker Molly. I think the contents of their stomachs were emptied in every room of the house, covered every last shred of bedding and many, many items of clothing, and kept our washing machine running all hours of the day and night. I felt like I was running from one toxic disaster zone to another, since the nine month-old can't tell you when or where she's going to throw up, and the five year-old has the worst aim in the history of the entire world. Notice I'm not naming any names.

Luckily, Molly is finally nursing and nibbling at some real food, and Joey -- after weakly submitting to wearing a princess Pull-Up for the better part of two days -- finally felt well enough today to get back into his favorite creative zone: coloring, cutting, and gluing. I breathed a sigh of relief when he informed me, "Did you KNOW that a T Rex is a hunter AND a scavenger?? WHAT?"

Rub-a-Dub-Dub, Three Kids in a Tub

Joey and Clara have been taking fun-filled baths together since Clara was eight months old. They splash, kick, swim, and play with toys for up to 45 minutes at a time, leaving the bathroom looking like a hurricane swept through. Aside from Mommy's dreaded shampoos, it might be their favorite time of the day.

A certain someone has been dying to join the fun...

...and they were more than happy to oblige.

I think we're going to need a bigger tub!

No One Puts Baby in a Corner

Except maybe the baby herself.

These days, Molly has perfected the backwards scoot. We're still waiting for her to change gears out of reverse and start moving forward, so we can stop rescuing her from underneath the TV armoire, the bookcase, the ottoman, and her crib.

Mighty, Mighty

Even when Joey's at school, his toys get a workout, thanks to his little sister. He was barely out the front door for his carpool pickup this morning before Clara was racing back to the family room to claim his four little dinosaur friends for herself.

I'm not sure what kind of play I expected our little girl to engage in, but I definitely didn't foresee how much she would relish being the carnivorous T Rex. The lip-smacking, teeth-gnashing noises she makes while she's devouring the weak, plant-eating Triceratops would put Hannibal Lecter to shame.

She's also not opposed to incorporating a little superhero action into the Jurassic period. Spiderman came to the rescue of Triceratops this morning with a flourish, and oh, how I wish I had caught his proclamation on video:

"I'm here! I am going to swivel my hips, and swivel my legs, T Rex! And now I'm going to stand up and pee on you!"

Wanted: Checkmate

After learning the basics of checkers from Grandma Cecchin last week, honing his skills on Grandpa's iPad, and playing many games with Mop and Uncle Mike over the weekend, Joey is going through withdrawals, and is actively seeking new opponents since his mother maddeningly tries to squeeze in laundry, vacuuming, and dishwashing inbetween her turns.

He tried to introduce the game to Clara, easing her in by saying, "Okay, this first game I'll play very gently, but the next game, I'll actually win."

They didn't get very far before she was laying down on the job.

Ideal opponents would be available 24/7, nonplussed by victorious fistpumps on Joey's part, and forgiving of 5 year-olds who sometimes try to move their pieces backward instead of forward.