Juliette, Jason, and I were in Virginia this past week, visiting my mom and stepdad. Now, I could go ahead and tell you all the details of what we did, where we went, and what we ate. (I swear I gained five pounds on this trip.) I'm told, though, that a picture is worth a thousand words, and I think that this one nicely sums up the whole experience:

What I love about this photo is the unbridled joy on Jason's face. It's a sight that I got to see a lot over the past week, which was a wonderful thing. But as I look at it now, I can't help but feel a little sad as well.

I had been a bit anxious leading up to this trip about how Jason would react to his grandparents. After all, he'd only met my mom a few times, and my stepdad only once, when he was just a few weeks old. Of course, he's a pretty outgoing little guy and very adaptible, and Juliette and I would be there to give him an anchor, but still, we were going to be in a strange place, seeing people that he mostly didn't know. I wondered what I'd do if he couldn't sleep at their house, or if he decided he didn't like being there, never really coming up with any answers.

It turns out I needn't have worried. Jason took to my parents and their house right away. He fussed, of course, but mostly because we wouldn't let him climb up and down the stairs as much as he wanted. By the third night, he was asking for "Gamma" to read him his bedtime story, something he normally wants Juliette to do. And on the plane ride home, he repeated over and over, "Gappa, Ay-go. Gappa, Ay-go." (For those of you who don't speak toddler, that's "Grandpa, San Diego.")

And that gets to the reason for my present bittersweet feelings. It's always nice to come home and to resume the familiar routines of my life. I know that Jason will respond well to being back on his regular schedule. But it broke my heart a little to hear Juliette trying to explain to him that, no, Grandma and Grandpa live in Virginia, not San Diego. He never seemed to quite grasp the idea that they'd be far away, but I'm not sure whether that makes it better or worse. Jason is, like all small children, a creature of the moment, and things don't have to be out of sight for long for him to be onto the next.

This is something I've struggled with a lot over the past couple of years. San Diego is where our life is now. Our careers and wonderful friends are here, and we've begun to put down some real roots. But the closest of Jason's grandparents, aunts, and uncles lives 450 miles away—the ones we just left are on the other side of the country. It's important to me that he have a relationship with his family, but with everyone so far away, it's hard to see how that can happen, at least not in the same way that I had when I was young. Juliette keeps reassuring me that the distance might make things different, but not necessarily worse—after all, she grew up 3000 miles away from her grandparents and still managed to have a very close relationship with them. I still can't help but feel sad, not so much for Jason, but for the rest of the family for not being able to see him as often as we'd like. In the end, he'll hardly remember this part of his life, if at all, and what will stay with him will be times that come later. But I know that now is a time that will always be special in my memories, and I'm sorry that so many of the people that are important to me won't get the same time with him as I do.

While I was visiting, I helped my mom pick out and set up a new computer, and got her a Skype account while I was at it. I'm hoping that regular video chat sessions will help keep Gamma and Gappa fresh in Jason's mind. It's not the same as a trip to see them, but it's what I can do for now. My question for you is this: if you've raised kids far from your family, or if you grew up far from your parents' families, how did you deal with it? Were you able to overcome the distance?

I hope to hear from you.

It's almost 1 AM, I'm flying tomorrow, and my laptop has just about run out of batteries, but I've been a total slacker about writing since I've been on vacation and I know you are all dying for an update. I'll give a real update on Wednesday, but until then, here are some photos to tide you over:

Click through to see the rest of the March and April galleries. See you Wednesday!

Juliette has been out of town for the last few days, which meant that Jason and I got to spend the weekend together by ourselves. Mainly in order to keep Jason occupied (and therefore not cranky), we went out a lot.

We went to the carwash:

And the park:

And the La Jolla Cove:

And even the zoo:

A good time was had by all.

The rest of this week's set:

Here I'd like to take a moment and prove that, like the Temptations, I ain't too proud to beg. I know that I don't have a whole lot of readers, but I hope that those of you who do stop by enjoy what I do here. If you do, please consider doing me a small favor. I've included some handy buttons at the bottom of every post that make it easy for you to share any post via Facebook, Twitter, StumbleUpon, Delicious, or Digg, so if you like what you're reading and think other people might, too, why not spread the word? It's easy and just takes a few seconds of your time.

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Of course, if you're just kind of so-so about Sakeriver or don't feel like helping out, that's cool too. I'm just glad that you're here at all.

This is the conversation Jason and I had just now, coming back from lunch:

Me: "Boo!"

Jason: "No!"

M: "No?"

J: "No."

M: "Yes."

J: "No!"

M: "Yes!"

J: "Nnnnnnnno!"

M: "Yyyyyes!"

[This continues for another 4 minutes or so.]

J: "No!"

M: "Yes."

J: "NNNNN..."

M: "Yes."

J: "...NNNNNNN..."

M: "Yes."

J: "...NNOOOOOOO!"

M: "Yes."

J: "Hot dog."

Jason has always loved bath time. He loves to splash and swish the water around with his feet and arms. He loves to play with his bath toys. He loves blowing bubbles and putting the washcloth on his head, then letting it slide off down his back or over his face.  And, unfortunately, he loves to drink his bath water.

The trouble is that Jason loves water. I mean, it's great that he loves water, but it has proven more or less impossible thus far to teach him the difference between drinking water and bath water. (Or pool water, or any other type of water, for that matter. It's a lucky thing that he knows he's not allowed to touch the toilets or we might be in real trouble.) And there are just so many things in the tub that he can use to carry the water to his lips. There's an actual cup, which we use to pour water over him when he needs rinsing, but he actually doesn't go for that one much. He drinks out of his hermit crab toy, his linker toys, and his rubber duckies. He even tries to suck the water out of the washcloth. Sometimes he just puts his face down and tries to drink straight from the tub, a feat that he's managing with greater and greater frequency to accomplish without subsequent spluttering and coughing. I'm sure that if he had a fox or a box in there, he'd drink with them, too.

Keeping him from his tasty treat requires constant vigilance on my part. I can't look away for more than a second without him going for it. I'm pretty sure it's become something of a game for him at this point, seeing if he can sneak a sip in when I'm not expecting it. So on any given night at bath time, you'd hear something like this coming from our hall bathroom:

"What is that, Jason? That's right, that's a ducky. Don't drink it. Yes, and those are keys. Can you point to the A, Jason? Good job! Don't drink it. Blech. OK, splashy splashy. Yes. Where's the B? Can you give the B to Daddy? Give the B to Daddy. Don't drink it. Can I have the B, Jason? Where's the B? Good job! Don't drink it. Are you going to blow bubbles now? Good bubbles, Jason! Don't drink it. No, we can watch Elmo tomorrow. Don't drink it. Sit down, please. Thank you. OK, time to get out. Don't drink it."

Even so, and even though I have to get down on my knees to scrub him, and even though it makes my back ache, I like bath time, too. It's one of the only times of the day when Jason is consistently in a good mood, and it's just adorable the way he smiles. Of course I'd like for him to be able to clean himself one of these days, but I know I'm going to miss this when it's over.

Jason stayed with Juliette's parents this past weekend while we were in Las Vegas for her birthday. They were kind enough to drive the 400 miles from Big Sur to San Diego so that Jason could be home, for which I can't thank them enough. I've been really glad that they've been able to be present in his life so much, and that he's gotten to know and love them so well. This time, as always, Jason had a great time, which if I hadn't already known would have been evident from the conversation I had with him tonight.

Jason: (pointing toward the kitchen) Aba?

Me: Oh, Aba? No, sweetie, Nana and Aba aren't here right now.

Jason: (pointing to the front window) Aba?

Me: Nana and Aba went home, honey. They went to their home in Big Sur. Do you remember Big Sur?

Jason: Hum.

Me: That's right, they went home.

Jason: Ga.

Me: Yep, they went home in a car. In their car. Do you remember Nana and Aba's car?

Jason: (runs to the window and points) Ga. Mo ga. Ga!

Me: Their car isn't here anymore, Jason. They drove it away when they went home.

Jason: Dada, Nana. Aba.

Me: I know you want to see them, Jason, but they went to their home. You know, their home? Mommy and Daddy and Jason and Cooper live in this home, our home, and Nana and Aba live in their home in Big Sur. Different people live in different homes. Elliott and Margo live at their home, and Caleb lives at his home, and Allie lives at her home. They all have their own homes, just like us. Do you understand?

Jason: No.

Me: Yeah, I didn't think so.

For the past month or two Juliette and I have been trying to teach Jason about numbers. Previously he ignored us most of the time when we showed him how to count—the best we'd get was a laugh. But it's funny how things tend to happen all at once with kids because over the past week or so he's been a counting machine.

Well, sort of. Right now he can only count to two. And I'm not sure whether he gets the concept of numbers or if he's just repeating the sequence of words. Whatever it is, though, he's got a fever, and the only prescription is more counting. He counts all the time. When we read, he counts things in the pictures. (When there are more than two of something in a picture he just starts over from one. "One. Two. One. Two." Sometimes he loses track of where he is, so I guess it's more like "One. Two. One. Two. Two. One. DADDY." But I digress.) He counts noses. He loves counting our eyes. So much so that carrying him around can be a somewhat dangerous proposition—you're liable to wind up with a tiny little fingernail poking you in the cornea. (This is one of the few things I like about wearing glasses: they provide some measure of protection for my eyes against unwanted baby fingers and drool and what have you.) Sometimes he just walks around, holding up both index fingers and shouting "TWOOOOOO!"

I've been trying to introduce three to him, but so far he remains uninterested. I'm thinking, though, that when he makes that discovery it may very well blow his mind.

Yesterday, Juliette and I walked five miles in the rain with some friends (and 2,108 strangers) in order to help find a cure for literacy. I placed fourth to last in the "Male 30-34" bracket (just barely beating out a blind woman, a woman nine months into her pregnancy, and an 89-year-old man), picked up two new blisters, and had the skin worn off the back of my left ankle by a shoe that is sorely in need of replacement. And a fun time was had by all.

All kidding aside, we had a great time. It was, indeed, raining, but it felt good to participate in something for a good cause. We opted to walk instead of run, which meant that we got wetter and colder than we might have otherwise, but it also meant that it wasn't particularly strenuous, and we spent the time talking and laughing, which is a pretty good way to spend a Sunday morning, if you ask me.

Between the event and the weather, Jason had to stay in the stroller the entire time, and all things considered he stayed in a pretty good mood the whole time. Maybe he found the prospect of walking on the freeway as exciting as the rest of us did, I don't know. But for the most part he seemed pretty content, though he did keep trying to find ways to stick his feet out from under the big umbrella that we propped up in between him and his friend Amalea (our race partners' daughter). For her part, Amalea wisely chose to spend most of the race asleep.

Two years ago if you'd asked me if I would ever participate in an event like this I'd have looked at you like you were out of your mind. At breakfast after the race yesterday, though, I was talking about training for a marathon or a century bike race. Most likely I won't be doing either any time soon, since the training requires a bit too much of a regular time commitment for me at the moment. Still, old me would likely be smacking new me upside the head.

Anyway, I'd just like to say thanks to our friends James and Melanie for getting us to come along and walk with them (and to congratulate Mel for doing this just five months after having had a fibrosarcoma removed from her thigh). Also thanks to Emily and Ari for the loan of their stroller. Right on!

For several months now, Jason has been pretty into Sesame Street. At first he only had eyes for Elmo, constantly talking about him and asking to see the same clips over and over again. But about two weeks ago his focus suddenly changed. More and more, he's been asking for Ernie. And Bert, actually, although it's only been a few days since he figured out that both characters aren't named "Ernie."

When I was a kid, I loved Ernie. He was one of my favorite characters. (The other was Grover, in part because my dad was really good at imitating his voice.) I still remember how hard I laughed at Ernie yelling "HEEEEERE FISHYFISHYFISHYFISHY!" Ernie was great—he was fun-loving and funny, and certainly more entertaining than his stick-in-the-mud pal Bert. Now, though, Ernie is, well... I kind of think he's a jerk.

I mean, seriously, here's a guy who makes a habit out of waking his best friend up in the middle of the night and then immediately going to sleep, so that not only does his friend not get a restful night, but he has to be alone through it, too. How upset would you be if your best friend woke you up at 2 AM in order to practice how he was going to wake you up in the morning? I'd be livid. And yet, every time Ernie decides to have a midnight jam session with his bugle, Bert just turns to the camera and sighs.

True, Bert can be kind of a grump sometimes. But wouldn't you be kind of grumpy if every time you sat down to read a good book, somebody came and not only interrupted you but invited a bunch of wild animals into your living room and then left them there for you to deal with? All things considered, Bert seems like a model of restraint.

So, I've reached a point in my life where Ernie is annoying and Bert is something of a tragic figure. And this is how I know I've gotten old.

Jason has been a little sick for the last couple of days, so we've kept him home from day care. I was home with him today, and I thought it would be fun for him to get out of the house, so we went for a little walk at Lake Miramar again.

I'm trying to teach myself how to use photo editing software.  Can you tell?  I'll try to find some new locations, so that it's not just all pictures of Lake Miramar.