“We’ve never raised a girl before.” Grandpa remarks with a twinkle in his fricken’ eye.  Liza sits at the table tossing lasagna blobs on top of the dog at our feet.  When I remove the bowl, she screams for it back again. She is fiery and explosive.  I’m exhausted by now but Grandpa is just coming in from work, and delighted.

You are at your friend Shelby’s.  Katie invited you to hunt for a tree in their woods.  You each had a hand saw and would get one of your own.  You took off in the Mule 4-wheel pickup thing on muddy trails about 3:30 this afternoon. You returned after dinner and fell asleep brushing your teeth. After Grandpa read a few pages of the Sibley bird book.  Your favorite pages are the owls and pelicans. You could read it to him by now.

Yesterday was pretty regular Tuesday. Sunny and warm for December. I tried to keep you and sissy busy with our comforting routines.  We walked to the construction site, off to the barn, fed the horses, walked to the trail and checked the pollywogs.  We found a dead quail and you checked it for signs of injury, we buried it and Liza learned to “ride” the Kettler push bike that used to be yours.  She squealed and shouted “whee” as we pushed her along.  Her feet couldn’t touch the pedals, so she lifted them in the air as she squealed for us to go faster. When we came in to eat lunch she cried for the bike outside the windows.  I had to move it away from her view.  Grandpa called her an adrenalin junkie.

When we were just about to heat the soup for lunch, the day changed.  The papers had to be signed right away in Capitola.  I poked you and Liza into carseats, grabbing a box of Fruity O’s and your water bottles and zipped along the freeway.  Your dad called, your mom was notified of the hearing on Wednesday and given information about the process in “legalese” confusing and upsetting her.  They wanted my help.  I asked Dad to go and talk to her, to listen. I hung up so the bluetooth speakers stopped filling your head with the confusion of his worried voice, or the worry of his confused voice. The papers took two hours and you and Liza were hungry, the toys in the basket limited and Liza stepped out from under the attorneys desk with an old ant stake. The attorney freaked out.  We walked to Whole Foods to get lunch and returned to sign everything and wait for copies.  When we got home your mom’s dad had come to take you to Salinas to live.  But had to leave to get to the hospital where his wife is dying of cancer. He was never going to invite you all in. Never.

Grandpa was too busy to help at all and I was frustrated.  But someone has to have a normal day. Dad ran away and never will come back, says mom.  But I am sure that is not true.  Mom took the bus someplace and all of us ended out hectic day frazzled, relieved the papers got filed and hopeful that it will go well tomorrow. (And remain curious about the definition of “well”) I don’t know if mommy and daddy are still in the tent.  Maybe not.  But today you go to school.  I find help for Liza for a few hours and go to court.  Uncle AJ called and said hello to you today.  Wish you could read his blog. http://vivaaj.wordpress.com/ love you, buddy    gma