Tutura Again February 1 - 19, 2007 Biologist Tom; Lisa is one and half; we walk and talk much

	Our children make us very happy -- with enthusiasm they participate in our trips.

	We had found an accessible beach at Point Lobos.

About nine months ago, Tom bestowed us with tutura, a fictional animal. Tutura was yellow and green, it would walk on the fence, had no whiskers (thus could not be a cat), was invisible, but you could hear it, and it flew in the clouds. To my surprise, the other day I stumbled upon an article on a New Zealands' tuatara. And guess what? It has no whiskers, as it's no cat -- it's a reptile with legs. It is quite hard to see, for it's a nocturnal animal. Its coloring ranges from dark green over yellow to orange. Only the fact that it can fly has been hidden from the rest of the scientific world -- this, only our Tom knows. Unless he'd be pointing to the fact that tuataras share their dwellings with some species of birds.

I think that Tommy is working on a career of a biologist. So far there has always been the alternative of the glamorous job of a waste disposal specialist (garbage collector), but still his interest in animals prevails. Common critters (cats, dogs) don't interest Tom as much as oceanic fauna does. The other day I had found him flattened in the hall -- and to my asking, what happened, he declared to be a stingray. And what should a mother do, who disciplines her son by sending him to time-out in the corner by the refrigerator -- and sonny starts to crawl behind the fridge and play little crab?

	A typical, winter time Point Lobos. The ocean is cold and wonderfully blue.

	We had walked all the way to the Carmel end of Point Lobos

Lisa had celebrated one and half year of her life. She started with obtaining some virosis. With fevers reaching 105°F, the doctor wanted to see her, and so Sid had to come back from work to watch over Tom. At the clinic, they found nothing inflammatory about her, and so we went back home. In a week, we went back to the clinic -- finally for Lisa's eighteen month check. The doctor looked glumly into weight graphs and then exclaimed that our daughter was, with her twenty pounds and thirty-three inches, completely outside any regular charts, but she (Lisa) was gaining. We simply have a child with a very effective metabolism. Our daughter is truly very skinny, no chubby baby with fat folds on her thighs; Lisa looks more like a little predator -- all muscle and tendon. I reckon that it is so because she simply has NO TIME to stop and get fat. She still sleeps at least one hour per day less than Tom; she watches her brother closely, following and repeating everything. Whatever she does not catch from Tom, she certainly learns from the twins -- recently it's been riding the push-car downhill like the wild James does. Lisa keeps growing her vocabulary, she routinely joins words into simple sentences; she attempts to dress and undress without help; she resolutely eats on her own -- and she has, half a year ahead of time, entered the infernal phase of defiance.

	A tunnel in a cliff

	Tommy was first to spot sea lions basking on a rock just a few yards away.

To celebrate our successful exam, I took the kids to Fresh Choice. I like this veggie buffet -- they cook soups and pasta, too, offer bread, fruits and desserts. I expected to manage both children all by myself, naturally counting on the staff to help me carry some trays. Alas, I am white and speak English. The Hispanic dame who came there with a partner and one sleeping baby in a stroller, was awarded full service -- with me, the (also) Hispanic cashier, who had nothing else to do, watched idly as I wrestled with two children, two child seats, a tray with three plates and three glasses of water. I could not have been more noticeable than thin air. I had to raise the issue -- for I don't have three pairs of hands, and I did not want to abandon my kids in the depths of a complex restaurant.

Three days after this event, my offspring turned into food hurlers. I had condemned Fresh Choice, my own stupidity, the doctor and the whole clinic, but when Tom eventually started going to school again, his teacher welcomed us saying that the whole class had gone down. In my mind, I silently apologized to all above mentioned institutions -- it simply was a mighty school virus. When the kids were sick, nothing much could be done, and subsequently there was no material for the journal.

After the situation had stabilized itself, I took the kids to a visit with a friend of mine. Jana has a two-year old boy, and though they don't live near us, it would still amount to about forty five minutes of driving. Assuming, of course, that one does not confuse left and right turns, and does not get lost for a half hour in a strange, new and unmapped subdivision. Expectedly, all cell phone services would not function for the duration, so I had eventually arrived there sweating all the way to my bottom, with a stroke-ready blood pressure. My children immediately raided unfamiliar toys and a new yard, and the little Maarten was overwhelmed with all the rush. I was quite worried that my kids would cause him a life-long trauma -- Tom being a seasoned preschooler, and Lisa being a weathered younger sister. They seemed capable of just rolling over this quiet, shy little boy. To my surprise, the children somehow understood the situation. Lisa would (adequately to her age) simply ignore him. Tommy showed interest in a new friend, he tried to engage him in some play, even brought him toys and during lunch, he presented him with some select (personally pre-chewed) bits. It would appear that Marten had understood these peace accords and will be friendly with us.

	Watch tower reminded Tom of a lighthouse.

	Tireless hiker Lisa on Mount Diablo

Presidents' Day falls on a Monday after middle of February. Sid and I could not come up with an idea of a far place in which to spend this extended weekend, and so we stayed with one day excursions. The weather was beautiful on Saturday, and we made a choice to re-visit Molera State Park at the Big Sur River. It's quite far, but has a pretty beach with a nice walk leading to it, a very big attraction. We made an ugly mistake, though -- the trail ended after fifteen feet at the up-swelled river, across which no bridge is maintained through the winter. A chap at the cashier's cab said that we were welcome to try wading to the other side, but the water was up to half thigh -- and next fords were deeper still. This we would not risk with two children, and we were forced to swallow our curses and get back to our car. In our second round, we chose security -- by going to Point Lobos.

It was not such a bad surrogate after all. Molera was hot as hell, at Point Lobos we enjoyed our long trousers. The path leads through a shady forest, where our kids rejoiced and started to run. Lisa surprised us, for she had managed to walk three quarters of a mile, all the way to the beach turn-off. There, we had a picnic under a pine tree, but soon our kids urged us to the ocean edge. Tommy did not disappoint in his role of a biologist -- the first thing he had spotted on the beach, were sea lions. They blend with the background so well that I had missed them. We found no tidal pools with critters that our kids love to watch so much, but a part of the beach consisted of pebbles -- eventually we, too, found fun in searching for interesting rocks and shells. Then Sid discovered a short tunnel through a cliff, and the kids had another attraction. It was difficult to chase them out of the beach, even after a disorganized herd with about ten screaming juniors invaded the until then idyllic cove. I am far from expecting six to eight years old children to engage in quiet walking in an ordered column, but if I can choose, I prefer to enjoy nature without noisy company. Anyway, it was high time for us to get back. It was well past our kids' afternoon nap time, and Lisa's legs tried to tie themselves up to a knot. I thought I could stuff her in my backpack and carry forth, but I actually failed. Whenever I picked her up, she relaxed into a rag doll and rested her head against me. Yet, as soon as she noticed Tom running by, she fought me to let her go and participate in the fun. In the end, she marched much of the way back.

	Visibility from Diablo was hundreds of miles. On a greater (click) picture, one can see a white line next to the round rock -- the snow covered tops of Sierra Nevada.

	A view to Golden Gate (left). If you watch carefully, you may notice towers of the famous bridge.

On Monday we went to Mount Diablo. It got colder and our bus measured forty seven degrees just below the summit. In addition, a very unpleasant wind was blowing. We decided for a trail circumventing a watch tower on top, where most of the way is protected by bushes. Kids made us proud again and showed much eagerness and joy from such a beautiful walk. We were rewarded by a breathtaking view -- besides San Francisco and the Golden Gate, we could see Sierra Nevada all the way to Lassen Peak; we had even spotted Mount Shasta in the distance -- this means visibility of several hundreds of miles. Tom liked the watch tower -- although he doggedly insisted on calling the round spire a "lighthouse" (it actually used to be one, for airplanes). Lizzy keeps repeating everything he says or does, so soon she, too, said that it was a lighthouse, and that was that. Lisa's vocabulary keeps growing at a mad pace -- even Tom exclaimed the other day that "Lisa speaks". I think that a communicative sister is a more equal and comfortable partner than a mute baby. It would seem that after three years during whose we kept teaching one and then the other to walk and talk, we are entering a (very long) era. An era filled with our wishes that the kids would, by God, keep silent for a moment, and sit down on their behinds.

Copyright © 2007 by Carol & Sid Paral. All rights reserved.