An Ode to the Park Chalet and Did I Just Get Zitoed?

There are things on the weekend that I love - my husband, my son, John's Ocean Beach for breakfast, the fact I don't have to go to work, and now to those ranks joins The Park Chalet. When I moved to the Sunset, John told me that it was foggy, and that was true, it is, but seriously, I really thought that I would be under the cloak of fog constantly, becoming pale from lack of sun light, and becoming something akin to a mole people (which was really the selling point for me). But come to find out, when the fog lifts, the Sunset is actually quite sunny and being three blocks from the beach is pretty amazing, but even better is the miracle of The Park Chalet, which is located behind the Beach Chalet and is an outdoor area that serves beer, food and allows children to roam free. Basically it is an oasis to frenzied parents who are under the constant deluge of toddler antics. A place to find peace in the form of sun, wear out your little one, the reminder you are not alone in the struggle, and oh they serve beer. So to you Park Chalet, I thank you for providing an outlet for Owen and his parents.

Also, in baseball news, did the Giants get Zitoed? Will that become popular vernacular around San Francisco. That (expensive) dinner was a total Zito! I like it very much. My brother-in-law thinks I should urban dictionary it, perhaps I shall.

Why Don't He Have Any Brudders?

That was a question posed to me and John yesterday at the Park Chalet. I think we both mumbled something about him being our first and the stork coming every couple of years. However, if that six year old asked me today, I would have said the following to her question of "Why Don't He Have Any Brudders?"

Simple sweetie, because his Mommy loves her drink, and the though of another 18 plus months sober is something she rather not thing about, and fetal alcohol syndrome kind of sucks. And what the hell do you mean by Brudders? First off, if there is any Brudder, it will be singular as in Brudder, not Brudders. Oh my god, did you just curse me to having twins - both of which being boys. You are dead little girl!

So there you have it. I am pretty sure now I will get pregnant again when thirty-five where my ovaries will be firing off eggs like the end of a 4th of July firework display, so that two fertilized XY pairs will grow and be delivered leaving me the mother of three boys. Hmmm, this much closer to my own football team, maybe this is not so bad after all.