The View From Here

Things I've watched my kids do this week:

My 10 year old hopping on his one clean foot from the living room, into the dining room, through the kitchen, into the hall, up the stairs and into the bathroom to rinse sand off his other foot.

My 5 year old picking her nose.

My 8 year old, flying down a swimming pool slide over and over and over and over.

My 3 year old sticking her tongue out at me. Over and over and over and over.

All five of them staring up at the huge aquarium tank at the California Academy of Sciences.


My 3 year old picking her nose.

My 11 year old wrestling with several 8 year old girls from his sister's soccer team. There were piggy back rides. There was hand holding. There was lots of jumping around. Wow.

My four school-age kids reading their books or doing their writing "assignment" on a stone bridge at a park on a beautiful sunny school day.

My 8 year old, sleeping soundly, arms wrapped around her 3 year old sister, also sleeping soundly.

My 11 year old tickling my 3 year old. Over and over and over and over.

My 10 and 11 year olds nearly coming to blows. It was the first time I physically stepped in between almost thrown, seriously pissed off punches.

My 8 year old, helping daddy make paella.


My 5 year old, throwing a full-on kicking and thrashing tantrum and screaming "no one loves me!" repeatedly, because her sister got to the bathroom first. I think she was a little over tired.

My 8 year old, applying pressure to her profusely bleeding gums, after she destroyed the gum tissue over her two front not-yet-descended adult teeth and knocked one of her baby teeth clean out. She had been dancing on the couch until her foot hit a magazine (not the story I originally got from the kids), bringing her down in a crash to meet the back of the couch. The next day, I watched the dentist examine her mouth and determine she had not done any permanent damage. Whoo-hoo!

My 10 year old, waking up on his 10th birthday with a smile on his face...and then going to bed at the end of the day with an even bigger one.

My 11 year old white kid, trying to wear his sweats in saggy style, with his soccer shorts underneath, looking like a complete gansta-fool. In public. The cringe factor was sky-high.

All of them ripping through a box of Trix fruity swirls like deprived crack heads getting a fix. (Birthdays = sugar cereal at my house). Later, I got to watch the ants swarming over the colorful puff balls that had been abandoned on the living room floor.

My 10 and 5 year olds, knee deep in the magazine bin at the local recycling center, digging for good collage-making magazines. My son found a bunch of surf magazines. One of which apparently had a picture of a European beach in it. Which prompted my son to ask me if we were ever to go to Europe as a family, and if we went to a beach while we were there, would I, too, go topless? There was a definite degree of horror in his question.

My 5 year old, finally joining the ranks of her older siblings, and walking in the Opening Day parade with her soccer team, The Hummingbirds.


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My eyes are full.

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