Brrr...summer!

Microclimates: they do keep things interesting, but I am fairly sure I won't miss 'em. It was spring at our house, it really was. 63 and sunny with a very slight breeze. The kids had been taking a long nap and the afternoon stretched out ahead of us with nothing planned. Happily, Matt and I had the exact same idea about how to spend the time: pick up burritos and head to Baker Beach for a dinner picnic. A family tradition.

We are heading to the beaches more than usual lately. You might think this is because we are about to leave a coastal city, and that may well play a part in this rash of beach expeditions, but I think it's more honest to say that it's because the boys are so very occupied and happy together there. Silently watching wet sand dribble into a hole, washing seaweed and rocks. Dropping fistfuls of sand into the bucket so that each time it splashes and leaves muddy streaks on Lyle's face, and although he flinches mightily, he never thinks to back up. In between sporadic trips down to the water to fill up their buckets we can actually lie down and relax.

But when we got to the beach this afternoon it was windy. Really, really windy. Now, we aren't novices. We had brought windbreakers and were dressed in long pants and sweatshirts - we do know a thing or two about this place. But it was uncomfortably windy. We braved it anyway, heading down to the good wet sand by the water and modifying the plans somewhat: "We'll just play a while and then go home to eat," we hollered to Baxter, wondering if the wind would sweep our words out to sea. "I wish we had brang my kite," was his only comment.

I tried. I carried Lyle down there, trying to buoy his whimpering spirits, but he didn't want to be put down in the sand. Baxter tried to do some digging. After about a minute I looked up and said, "This is really pretty miserable," and Baxter said quickly, "Yeah, it is!" so we headed out. Matt laughed and said that you know it's bad when Baxter and I actually want to leave a beach. "You'd think the sand was made of chocolate!" he joked, referring to one of Baxter's and my other shared passions.

Back at home, there was a lovely email from Matt's sister, Julie, in Chicago, complete with photos of the kids out playing in the backyard today. (Thank you, Julie, you're doing a great job!!) They were in summer clothes and playing in water, enjoying a day that was at least 90 degrees and sunny. They looked decidedly un-miserable.

Learn from our mistakes

If you are considering a move from the Bay Area to another part of the country, let me suggest something not to do:

1) Don't take the kids to Muir Woods on a gorgeous, sunny Sunday morning when the light is streaming through the trees like something you would find on a religious greeting card. If you must go, try not to breathe in at all while there, because the nostalgia of the scent of those trees will almost knock you out;

2) If you ignore my advice in #1, at least try not to notice how much they love it - heads thrown back to take in the enormity of the redwoods, running in and out of the trees with the natural "caves" in them, and their need to hike the trail on the hill, even though you didn't bring the backpack and it means that you must carry your 30-lb. toddler on your shoulders or hip the entire way;

3) If you can't resist breaking rules #1 and #2, at the very least do yourself the favor of not thinking about the lack of such a magnificent place where you're going, because no matter how many lovely images you can conjure up about where you're headed, it won't be anything like this.

A Glimpse of Summer

Okay, so this would be a great time for our midwestern family and friends to start up those enticing emails again; you know the ones, filled with long lists of great things we'll do together. Hit me with the road trips you'll take to visit us, the apple picking in the fall, and the summers in the backyards with the cousins. Remind me of sledding and hot cocoa and less expensive babysitters. Because if I don't get a fresh shot of invigoration here, I may consider tying myself to - and here I pause longer than I care to admit, trying to figure out what I would actually tie myself to that you've heard of and that I wouldn't mind being tied to if the Big One were to hit, and I'm at a loss, so let's just say I'd tie myself to something Large and Permanent in order not to have to leave San Francisco.

We are at the awkward juncture right now where we are certainly not saying good-bye to anyone - we're not moving for 2 months, for goodness sake - but with everyone's busy schedules and how fast these weeks are flying, we leave each play date and adult gathering with an exchange of concerned looks and rushed talk about the critical things we must do before the move (a certain restaurant we must go to together, a new house we want to see, close friends we just have to see as many times as we can before we leave). Our Saturday night dates are now fraught with meaning - where do we need to be sure we go one more time? What have we missed? Each lunch date with friends now ends with an expressed need to see each other again before the move - and yet, when? Can we actually see everyone that one more time in the next two months? At some point we are going to have to say good-bye, it's just that it's not that time yet, so everything has a bittersweet quality to it. For this reason we are starting to plan good-bye parties - a party with my family, parties with our colleagues, a party for our friends with kids, and a party with our own adult friends. This seems to be the only way to manage all of these good-byes and give them some finality.

At the same time, I had a glimpse of the future today that I really appreciated. It was a gorgeous, sunny morning and although Matt is out of town, the kids and I were ready for the day early. First they colored together at the dining room table, sharing markers and crayons. When they caught sight of the carrots I was packing for a later snack, they decided they wanted steamed carrots. So they moved into the kitchen, where they sat eating carrot sticks and apple slices at 7:30 AM, driving each other just slightly nuts by pushing the table into each other and Lyle daring to touch Baxter's plate, setting him off every time.

It was sunny and warm and the kitchen window was open, letting in a fresh morning air. I was suddenly transplanted to our future apartment in Chicago, where the boys and I will be spending every early morning all summer together like this. I could imagine having the whole hot summer day stretching ahead with the two of them, and not having to bug Baxter to get dressed for school right away, like I did today. We could even wear shorts: in the summer! No fear of the fog rolling in there. Like today, I wouldn't be working, except that I'd be even more relaxed because I'd be away from work for weeks and weeks. We'd be preparing to explore the new city, investigating new playgrounds and museums, or we'd be heading out in the car to play with the kids' cousins for the morning. Maybe we'd be throwing swimsuits in a bag to play in Oma and Pops' backyard wading pool.

Later, when I was at the Discovery Museum with Lyle, I watched all the Marin kids showing up in their shorts and t-shirts, and realized they are already enjoying those warm summery days. It suddenly became a real problem that my kids didn't have sandals. What were we doing with no sandals for the kids?! We're going to have a real summer! Needless to say, they are now fully outfitted with comfy new sandals. And I made sure that they are waterproof so that they can be worn at the beaches of Lake Michigan and in Oma and Pops' backyard pool.

So, okay, maybe I won't tie myself to San Francisco, at least not literally. But if you live in the midwest, I could still use those enticements!