Pre-School Days

Pre-school continues to progress nicely for Marco.  He was elevated to his new class over the summer.  Their program started in September, when he was assigned to the "Terrific Tigers" group with his new teacher, Rosa.

Rosa lives in our neighborhood and we've seen her walking in the evenings with her husband.  Marco thinks that's about the coolest thing in the world. 

It's amazing how suddenly the classroom clicks.  I wasn't sure it would happen, but as it turns out, he is just four.  Marco is really getting interested in his letters and numbers now, even finishing his homework without us - after I'd left for work and while Jeff was in the shower.  "Rosa said my Cs were great!  I said, 'that's because there's so many Cs in my name.'"

Clearly, Marco is looking forward to homemade pizza.  :)

Never the budding artist, he's even started wanting to draw.  I have to laugh at my pride at his latest drawing of me, "with lots and lots of arms."  At first I thought it was a beard, so I was pleased that he clearly considers me a multi-tasker.  (I personally like my bangs.)

His teachers say he loves playing the best and is the first to line up for outside play.  When I pick him up, it's almost 6, he's among a handful of kids left and he still groans, "Ahh, Mom... five more minutes?"  They assure me if his lunch wasn't finished, it's because he was talking too much and ran out of time.

He still has a streak of class clown in him, though.  "During naptime, while the teacher wasn't looking, I got up, ran across the room, touched Joaquin and came back and laid down and she didn't even notice!"  Even I had to stifle a laugh, so maybe he'll never grow out of that.

We visited two schools to look at kindergarten over the past couple of weeks, the local public school, Crocker Highlands and the local Catholic school, Corpus Christi (Brookie's school).  Both seemed perfectly fine for Marco, I know he'll rock either option.

Home Sweet Home

100 days away from our house. 

We did not expect it to take this long. 

Up until the last few weeks, we were genuinely pleased with our apartment situation.  We really enjoyed the pool, hot tub, gym and the simplicity of a small place with few responsibilities and few things.  But as our responsibilities for getting the house back together grew and the amount of bags and stuff we continually loaded into the apartment, it started to lose luster.

In case you aren't up to speed on our adventure, after the flood (August 4th,) the house wasn't liveable.  It took over a week to demolish the walls, ceilings, baseboards, floors and dry it all out.  Every room was filled with dryers, dehumidifiers and fans.  Our PG&E bill was $900 for the week! 

After that, the insurance guy came out to assess the damage.  I took an hour off work to meet with him... it took six.  It was a very arduous, detailed process - especially considering there wasn't one place to sit in the whole house.  Besides all the walls, flooring and ceilings that need replacing, he also deemed the carpet unsalvagable and the hardwoods damaged. 

They extended our temporary housing coverage.

He cut us a check that day made out to us and our lender.  The lender requires a quote from your contractor as a part of the significant paperwork we need to submit to get the money.  So, over the next few weeks, we met regularly with a contractor who.... stopped calling us back.  At all.  My even-keeled husband was losing it.  He had to go to their physical office after two weeks of no returned calls to fire them.  They didn't speak to him when he came in and finally he had to say, "I just want my key back."  They obliged.

At this point, we were seven weeks into the process, the house was still a disaster and we had not one single bit of progress and no money. 

They extended our temporary housing coverage. 

Since the house was a hazard and every wall was open, we upgraded our plumbing, some electrical and re-routed damaged duct work.

They extended our temporary housing coverage - this time, laughing "I knew it would be longer last time, but you seemed pretty stressed, so I didn't mention it."  Great.

Enter Juan and Juan, the best damn contractors in the East Bay.  They've done a lot of work on our house over the years, but never something quite this extensive.  They gave us a very reasonable quote and started right away with very little deposit.  It has been a huge relief to see progress every.single.day.  Sure, those guys can wreck a case of beer at the end of every day, but I'm fine with that.

Plus, they said they hate to put everything back the same way, so we went ahead and opened the doorway from the kitchen to the dining room, added hardword floors in the kitchen (which they had to custom hand cut), painted the kitchen cabinets, put in a new sink, upgraded our fridge to something more appropriate for a house than a boat and fixed up the sunroom.

And finally... they didn't have to extended our temporary housing coverage.

Our insurance provider has been great.  Even though we basically had to pay everything out of pocket, (fortunately we could!), at least we're covered.  Our lender inspected the house today to ensure that work was complete and that we could receive our insurance payout.

And we'd be remiss not to mention all the friends and family that have chipped in over the past few months with food, fun and hosting.

We've been laboriously putting the house back together.  We definitely underestimated the amount of work that it would take.  It took my Mom and I two days to get the kitchen in order.  Emptying all the cabinets, washing the cabinets, washing their contents and reloading is a process only softened by wine and good company.  Every inch is covered in filthy dust, essentials like towel racks, nails and closet rods are missing and house contents are scattered in every corner, room, deck and floor in the house.  20 loads of laundry is pretty daunting, too. 

But - we can't complain!  We're happy to be home, snug in our beds.  Marco really summed up his emotional side too.  "It's great to see my toys again - I missed Godzilla and Optimus Prime!" 

Sure, we'll miss our pool, hot tub and gym, but home is where the heart is.  (Plus... all of our pants and jackets.  We're still dressed for August and it's getting cold.)

Here's my kitchen to dry your eyes:

Nine Lives

If you don’t know, we have two cats. I don’t talk about it much because only crazy people have cats. They are older than the hills and spend the majority of their day sleeping. Mista can barely make the jump to the bed and Toby is deaf. "TOBY!!"

After the flood, the cats lived bachelorette pad-style while we rocked the Hyatt House Dylan McKay-style. Unfortunately, the cats couldn’t live much longer alone in the house while under construction, so we brought them over to Emeryville when we moved to the apartment.

In an effort to minimize the adjustment period after the terrifying move, I bought them wet food as a treat. Marco feeds it to them daily and they’re honestly like kittens again. He also terrorizes them like a 4-year old boy.

And… they’re starting to like it. Jeff says that Toby has Stockholm Syndrome.

Poor thing.

Epona Magica

We swung by our local racetrack when we heard Mulry's horse was running. I think it's fair to say that Marco has inherited our gambling spirit.

We bet the filly to place (her grandfather's claim to fame was placing second in the Triple Crown). She led the pack in the first half and fell to the back to finish second to last.

Including my beer, we're in the red to be sure.

Marco loves the race program and even took it to read in the bathroom this morning. Yep, pretty sure we have a budding degenerate gambler on our hands.
And here's the proof:












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Tough as Glass

As it turns out, playing barefoot while your friend's family is unpacking is not the best plan. The night of our drive to Long Beach, while Jeff slept to prep for the drive, Marco stepped on glass. His foot was gushing blood, which could not be contained by a bandaid. He was sobbing and I couldn’t even see the cut. I finally got it bandaged and contained, but he couldn’t walk.

It was like traveling with the queen of Sheba. Since Jeff the pack mule (he’s very strong) was carrying two boat bags, his work bag and a case of wine, I was in charge of my purse, one boat bag and Marco (he’s heavier than he looks). Carried him home from Romioses, up to apartment, down to car, into Denny’s at 4 a.m., to the bathroom at Denny’s, into boat terminal, onto boat, on boat legs outside for fresh air when he wasn't feeling well, to dinghy and onto Poseidon. Oh and I held the bag while he yakked on the boat trip since the bathroom was full. I earned that 6 a.m. mimosa.

In Long Beach, we picked up some more appropriate bandages which we changed daily in Catalina (in case you noticed the constantly bandaged foot in the photos). It wasn’t infected, but he was still limping a little and it wasn’t really healing. We attributed it to swimming every day.

15 days later, back at the ranch…

Jeff looks again and sees the chunk of glass. He reached in with tweezers and just pulled it out. It didn’t bleed or anything, just popped right out. A fairly large, hole punch-sized, round piece of well-traveled glass. Marco didn't even wince.  “That feels better.”