In the Vatican, Luke created his own treasure hunt after learning from our guide that most statues had leaves strategically placed over their “natural parts.”  He delighted in finding statues still in the buff and was equally awed by the enormity and beauty of St. Peter’s Basilica.

An afternoon spent wandering the ground of the Colosseum led to imaginary adventures of battling tigers and finding a secret trial along Palatine Hill where real life archaeologists were excavating a dig site.  Luke scampered on the cobblestone path and found nooks and crannies inside the monument that Gordy and I would have easily breezed by. 

I credit the ease of the trip with the simple fact that we’re blessed to have an amazing little traveler in our family and the fact that we were prepared with a tiny bag of tricks in the form of a pocket full of coins.  We were ever-ready to stop at a moment’s notice, pull out a coin, and let Luke launch a wish.  Plus, snack breaks for salami and gelato were a well-deserved treat for us all.  I’m so glad we didn’t heed the advice of skeptics and equally glad I was able to experience Rome through Luke eyes.  Legend claims that tossing a coin into the Trevi Fountain ensures a return trip and that’s a wish I know we all hope is granted!

Since our house revolves around all things Star Wars it was only fitting to serve Gordy Yoda pancakes on his special day.  Nothing says I love you dad more than a Storm trooper cut out of fluffy pancake dough or Darth Vader drenched in syrup. 

When Luke and I procured the pancake cutters we also discovered a kid-size Star Wars apron for him to serve them in.  Super cute, plus I figured it could be his standard apron.  Yeah, like aprons get a lot of wear around here…nonetheless he strutted around in the apron and delivered breakfast with flair.  Later in the afternoon, Gordy was surprised to find Luke sitting quietly by himself in his room and his apron stuffed into his garbage can.

Gordy asked, “What’s wrong bud?  What’s your apron doing in the garbage?”

Luke held back slight tears and said, “I threw it away.  It’s your day dad.  I shouldn’t have a gift on your day.”

Gordy scooped him up, removed the apron from the garbage, held him tight and said, “You’re the best present ever bud.”

With a wink to me, they proceeded to check on the world they’re building online.  I think they’ve built a pretty good one here.

Here’s the issue, Gordy is animal whisperer. His gift isn’t limited to one species or specific breed.  Wherever we go animals find him, or better yet he finds them.  I don’t have enough fingers and toes to count how many dogs we’ve returned to owners over the last decade.  Stray cats and raccoons know they’ll find food on our front porch. Vacationing in Cozumel last spring he rescued a turtle crossing the road.  Yep, I said turtle.  So, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that last week while driving home from a leisurely Saturday lunch, Gordy slammed on the brakes, stopped the car in the middle of the road and came back cradling a tiny wild bunny in his hands. 

To compound matters, Luke seems to have inherited the “speaks to animals” gene.  The pleas began the moment he saw the bunny.  “Please, oh please mom, can we keep it?”   There were promises of warm bottles, a covered cage in the backyard, and late night bunny feedings.  Gordy’s sheepish, begging eyes didn’t help, “You know Kate, it doesn’t have a chance out there.”

Oh great, so either I add a wild bunny to our collection of animals or I become know in our house as the bunny killer.  What’s a mom to do?

Enter Google.  And let me just say thank you Google.  Turns out wild bunnies don’t make good pets.  In fact upon further investigation, I discovered that wild bunnies have less chance of survival in human hands than when left to perils of nature.   I further consulted the emergency vet, who assured me the best solution was indeed to return the bunny to the wild.  Probably in an attempt to make us all feel better, the vet suggested we create a nest for the bunny out of a cardboard box and fill it with leaves and twigs.  Luke took this idea to heart, adding baby carrots to attract the older bunnies.  We tucked the nest under a bramble of blackberry bushes and within seconds the little guy hopped back into the vines.  “Go little guy, you’re back home!” Luke shouted.  Yes, he was, and I gotta say I was just a little sad that his home wasn’t ours.

A few hours later, he snuck into his rooming, hollering for us to stay out because he had a big surprise planned.  He emerged in his “fancy suit” just in time for pizza night on the basement couch.  Go figure.  And, come on who doesn’t want to knock back a grape soda and slice of pie in a suit and snap-on tie?

From the suit to the camo tee and Johnny Cash tunes to almond flavored Easter cookies our house is eclectic.  We don’t walk in a straight line every day.Of course none of these things go together.  But, I wouldn’t want them to.  And, maybe we’re just recreating a 2010 vision of the new Rockwell generation.

Bucking the current trend, we opted to allow Luke to invite as many kids as the age he was turning.  Three for three, four for four, five for five and this year six for six.  His parties thus far have been simple and lovely.  Reminiscent of birthdays from my childhood where my mom would decorate our dining room with pink and yellow balloons and bake a homemade angle food cake with fresh raspberries sprinkled on the top.  To date, his birthday bashes have been manageable and without the pressure of eagle-eyed parents ready to pounce, very low-key.

That changed this year when Luke trotted home from school one day, flopped his backpack on the kitchen table and announced, “This year I’m having a sleepover!”  A sleepover at six really?  After a long debate, we decided a six-year-old sleepover was still better than twenty-four kindergartners going head to head at Chuck-E-Cheese right?  Well, actually I’m pleased to say right!  Believe it or not the sleepover was a smashing success.  Sure, six boys and two dogs on an overcast evening translated into running laps around our dining room table and eating popcorn at 11:00 at night.  But, minus a lightsaber fight that got a little out of hand and a battle over who landed their spaceship closest to the Death Star, they were easy.  It was a reminder for me at how important independence is, even at this early age.  There were no tears in the middle of the night or requests to be driven home.  They tucked themselves in and told funny stories, which apparently when you’re six is anything related to farts.  I’m glad we took the plunge, although we might need to re-think seven for seven next year.

Our inaugural experience with the Vancouver Public School system has been seamless.  While the language immersion may be unique to us, all of our friends and family report similar good will toward their home schools.  It’s things like class size, quality of instruction and setting up the schools as a hub for the community.   My friends across the river in P-town on the other hand are opting for charter and private schools because they can’t stomach the thought of a kindergartner in class of 30+ students. 

When my ballot for the replacement levy arrived in the mail this afternoon I ripped it open and voted “yes” right away.  And here’s my political plea to my fellow ‘Couvers.  We have an amazing resource in our public schools here–let’s be sure to preserve it!  (If you need more information about the levy click here or feel free to send me a message.)

Throughout the years my friendships have evolved and grown, often mirroring where I’m at, at a particular moment in time.  Co-workers became friends when I was fresh out of college and always up for a night out on the town.  The past few years I’ve gravitated to friends with young children who I’ve met at the park or play-dates.  These silver friends are new and shiny like a dime fresh off the minting press.  They represent today.  Some morph into long term gold friends and other drop off as paths shift in new directions.

But, then there are the gold friends–friends who’ve known me young.  Friends like the ones we traveled with this holiday season who camped out in the snow for two days to score Rose Bowl tickets the last time we went (this time they were purchased online thank with a quick flash of a credit card thank you very much).  My gold friends and I have seen each other through breakups, deaths, and staggering joy.  They’ve become family over the years, the kind of friends I knew I can call at 2am and travel the world with.  While my gold friends may be smaller in number, our friendship has aged and remained steadfast with the passing of time. 

So, with the dawning of a new decade thank you to my silver and gold friends, and here’s to those of friends yet to be.

After the loss of my mother I’m always looking for new ways to incorporate her legacy into our life.  I find sometimes that anniversaries like her birthday or Mother’s Day are bittersweet.  On those holidays we’ve created new traditions of honoring her memory, but the sadness remains.  The Day of the Dead celebration was easy for me to embrace.  It’s simply a day to recognize and pay homage to our ancestors.  There’s nothing else attached to the day for me, so it was an opportunity to really play up the idea of celebrating my mom’s life.  We flipped through photos of her and stopped off for her favorite dark chocolates after school.  Luke seemed to easily embrace the day as well, although I’m sure all that extra sugar didn’t hurt.

Luke eagerly posed for pics with the massive collection of Star Wars memorabilia on hand, with the exception of the Stormtroopers which apparently were a little too true-to-life for his taste.  While they cheered to the iconic scores of the Imperial March complete with lasers and exploding light shows, I ran a hot bath, poured myself a lovely glass of red wine and tucked in with a mystery.  Since Luke first discovered Star Wars, he and Gordy have carved out their own “boy zone” around the classic saga.  There are no girls allowed when they break out Lego sets on Luke’s bedroom floor, or battle with foam light-sabers.  I’m fine this utterly sexist mentality.  I love that they have their own traditions, and let’s face it a night by myself in the bath is a very good thing.