President's Day! Dave's company, Gabriel's school and daycare, and Julian's preschool, were all closed! I went to work, Katrina went to Tonya's, and it was up to the boys to fend for themselves today.
Being a shameless opportunist, I sent Dave on my daily remodeling errands....drop off stain samples, pick up a few overlooked plumbing items, deal with an underestimated amount of flooring material, the usual. So I got to go to work, and come home from work, directly -- no extra trips. Amazing...is this what it's like to be a grownup and a homeowner living at home?
Then again, usually my remodeling errands are done sans little boys. I talked to Dave briefly while he was at the plumbing store (yes, satin nickel please), and in the few seconds we spoke, I could hear Julian tattling in the background: "Gabriel touched my butt!" Dave said later that was preferable to his follow-up announcement to the whole (small) store: "GABRIEL SAID P-NIS!!" Ah, such open-minded observant children we're raising.
I was truly glad to see my little brood tonight, though very sorry I had to spend so much of my time dealing with dinner, cleanup, lunches, laundry, gathering things for tomorrow. And in the background weighs on me constantly: remodeling stuff as always, and now, taxes. I must get all taxes done before we move, or it'll turn into a major scramble with all our things in boxes right around deadline time. "All" means our personal taxes, my Dad's, and my corporation's, which has a dealine of March 15. This new world of corporate tax filing makes our personal taxes seem like a piece of cake!
But I did enjoy watching them all play together tonight. I continue to marvel at how different Katrina's 2-year-old life is than Gabriel's was. At her age, most of his play at home was done quietly on his own, though he was curious about his infant brother. Nothing quiet about Katrina's 2-year-old life, surrounded by two rambunctious brothers. That has to have an effect. Good or bad, we'll see.
Short, cute ending. Notice how Katrina yells at Gabriel when she feels threatened by his waving feet.
Longer, more of the same. Notice how Julian kisses her hand in the beginning. Another cute ending, when she wants to show me her Kitty-Kat.
Much of this silliness was for her benefit. Indeed, her life is ruled by having two older brothers, but she has a powerful effect on the dynamic too. Unwittingly, she takes pressure off the brothers' relationship, since Julian often wants to play when Gabriel wants to be left alone (age, personality). Katrina fills that gap -- often against her will!
Unfortunately, after another 40 minutes, Gabriel was still completely into his siren-sounds and mussing people's heads and was getting completely out of control, knocking things down and being incredibly annoying. Childhood play is one thing, but I'd had enough. I even spent 5 minutes standing outside in the cold and rain with him, pretending to show him something outside, just to try to break him out of it. No good. Finally an insisted-upon shower broke him out of it, but I had to brace myself for a major battle. That was OK. I had the energy for it, because I'd had a holiday. I think that was a good thing....
2/16/09
Monday, February 16, 2009
Sunday, February 15, 2009
2/15/09 A touch of Portland
This doesn't happen often around here -- it rained all day!
I look Katrina and Julian to the Y today, thinking that maybe the late-morning Zumba class wouldn't be so crowded on a rainy day. Instead, the teacher announced that she counted 98 -- yes, ninety-eight -- people in the class. It's so popular that they've long since abandoned the number system and instead moved it to a much larger room. I just had to get there a few minutes early to get a primo spot up front, something years of dance classes taught me to do. I'm short and slow to catch on to choreography -- I need a great view of the teacher. A great way to spend a rainy morning! (Negotiating semi-flooded parking lots with a toddler who insists on walking, then refuses to walk in the direction needed, and hence has to be carried...not so much.)
Katrina's handed-down rain jacket is too small, the hood won't stay on. So she got an upgraded hand-me-down today. It's a little big, but sooooo cute! And she actually wore the hood. She really really wanted to play outside!
I had an odd pang today, when my brother gave me an update on the work he and my sister and brother-in-law are doing on my Dad's house. I want to do that too! What?! you might think. Why would I want to do home projects after all we've been through! Well, because, it's my home then. No one shakes their head and tells me you can't do that, or you shouldn't do that, or barrages me with a list of reasons why they don't think it's the right thing to do. I like doing home projects. I might like them even more now that I won't have to do them.
Oh yeah, except that pesky landscaping thing....urgh. With all this rain, it's going to be as green as Portland pretty soon, but in a few months it'll turn California brown.
2/15/09
I look Katrina and Julian to the Y today, thinking that maybe the late-morning Zumba class wouldn't be so crowded on a rainy day. Instead, the teacher announced that she counted 98 -- yes, ninety-eight -- people in the class. It's so popular that they've long since abandoned the number system and instead moved it to a much larger room. I just had to get there a few minutes early to get a primo spot up front, something years of dance classes taught me to do. I'm short and slow to catch on to choreography -- I need a great view of the teacher. A great way to spend a rainy morning! (Negotiating semi-flooded parking lots with a toddler who insists on walking, then refuses to walk in the direction needed, and hence has to be carried...not so much.)
Katrina's handed-down rain jacket is too small, the hood won't stay on. So she got an upgraded hand-me-down today. It's a little big, but sooooo cute! And she actually wore the hood. She really really wanted to play outside!
I had an odd pang today, when my brother gave me an update on the work he and my sister and brother-in-law are doing on my Dad's house. I want to do that too! What?! you might think. Why would I want to do home projects after all we've been through! Well, because, it's my home then. No one shakes their head and tells me you can't do that, or you shouldn't do that, or barrages me with a list of reasons why they don't think it's the right thing to do. I like doing home projects. I might like them even more now that I won't have to do them.
Oh yeah, except that pesky landscaping thing....urgh. With all this rain, it's going to be as green as Portland pretty soon, but in a few months it'll turn California brown.
2/15/09
Saturday, February 14, 2009
2/14/09 What Valentine's Day is about
"What is Valentine's Day about?" Gabriel asked. He'd refused to do any cards for his classmates.
"Love," I answered, squashing a cynical remark about a manufactured holiday to sell cards and flowers. "It's about telling people you love them."
"Oh," he said. "A girl must have invented that."
Smart -- and wise!
2/14/09
"Love," I answered, squashing a cynical remark about a manufactured holiday to sell cards and flowers. "It's about telling people you love them."
"Oh," he said. "A girl must have invented that."
Smart -- and wise!
2/14/09
Friday, February 13, 2009
2/13/09 A touch of Colorado
A backdrop of snow-capped mountains is a rare sight around here.
It's a common sight in many places, so why does this make me think Colorado? Just because it seems especially spectacular there, based on my few visits.
Not that we're moving anywhere anytime soon. While we could potentially push hard for the house to be ready March 6, there are too many things that could trip us up. Another week lets us handle every last detail while the house is still a jobsite, its easier for trades to get in and out, and we don't have coordinate. I absolutely do not want anyone traipsing around our house while we're living there! Also, our contractor does a 2-day deep post-construction cleaning, which should be done dead LAST.
Flooring is going in -- now that makes it look like a house! I find myself frustrated and disappointed with countless items (today I'm beating myself up that I didn't insist on seeing a stain sample before all the trim got stained, it's too dark and brown and not red enough), so I'm happy to say that I love the floor.
I'm far, far more tired Friday evenings than any other day of the week, since I spend the whole day from 8am on running around and taking care of construction items. I spend less time with the kids on Fridays, my day "off," than I do on weekdays with homework and lunches. Four more Fridays!
2/13/09
It's a common sight in many places, so why does this make me think Colorado? Just because it seems especially spectacular there, based on my few visits.
Not that we're moving anywhere anytime soon. While we could potentially push hard for the house to be ready March 6, there are too many things that could trip us up. Another week lets us handle every last detail while the house is still a jobsite, its easier for trades to get in and out, and we don't have coordinate. I absolutely do not want anyone traipsing around our house while we're living there! Also, our contractor does a 2-day deep post-construction cleaning, which should be done dead LAST.
Flooring is going in -- now that makes it look like a house! I find myself frustrated and disappointed with countless items (today I'm beating myself up that I didn't insist on seeing a stain sample before all the trim got stained, it's too dark and brown and not red enough), so I'm happy to say that I love the floor.
I'm far, far more tired Friday evenings than any other day of the week, since I spend the whole day from 8am on running around and taking care of construction items. I spend less time with the kids on Fridays, my day "off," than I do on weekdays with homework and lunches. Four more Fridays!
2/13/09
Thursday, February 12, 2009
2/12/09 Car-frontation
What a rattling day. First I was excited that it looked like we could move in a week earlier than I thought. Then it turned out that an important PG&E installation was missed. Now it looks like we can make up that time, but now my kitchen butcher block top will be late, which isn't a problem by itself, but it halts the installation of a necessary electrical outlet -- yes, a single outlet -- in the island, required by code.
Already tense, I went about the usual routine of pickups after work -- an easy day, since Katrina was at TLC. I was really looking forward to seeing them, and Katrina rewarded me with a spectacular "Mom-my!", ran to me and gave me her version of a huge hug. She turned to the line of toddlers staring and announced, "Thas' my Mommy!" It was the sort of scene that makes other adults smile and marvel at our close connection and my fabulous parenting.
All to be unravelled in the next few minutes.
As usual, I left Julian and Katrina in the car while I fetched Gabriel. But this time, it took extra time to get him since he had to sit on the pot first. Thank goodness he's speedier about business than Julian, but still, he's a kid, and it takes some time.
While waiting, I looked outside at my car, and saw a scene developing. One of the school administrators -- the same one whose sh*t list I'm already on for a possible residency violation -- and another parent (or teacher perhaps) were peering into my car. Great, they see Julian and Katrina alone in the car. I looked at them from my vantage point, they saw me, but they weren't clear of my role in this scenario.
I went back to hurry Gabriel, then anxiously back to the door -- now the principal had joined them, and the parent was on a cell phone. I considered going out, but I needed to keep after Gabriel. Finally he was ready, and I rushed him across the parking lot.
"Oh, are these yours?" the administrator asked suspiciously.
As I expected, the lecture about the dangers of leaving them in the car ensued, and I cut it off with saying they were far safer in the car than if I were to walk all three of them across this busy parking lot twice, twice a day.
The other parent was particularly horrified at my laxness: "What if someone takes your car?" Oh please! I told her I had my keys, and it was far, far, FAR more likely that they'd get hit in the parking lot by another car. That happens. Car thefts and kidnappings from school parking lots in Cupertino....not so much.
The school administrator pointed out I hadn't even locked my car. I looked squarely at her and said, "Really? Do you really think they're safer locked in? What if something happened to me? Then no one could get to them!" She shrugged, unprepared for such a direct question. "I think they're better off if people can open the doors."
"Wowwww..." said the other parent.
The administrator persisted: "What if they get out and run across the parking lot?" I answered that one is strapped in, and the other just doesn't do that. He's five for Pete's sake.
"Woww....." said the other parent, almost in pity at my inability to see the obvious threat of kidnapping and car theft versus a toddler breaking away and getting hit by a car. She said critically, "They're safest with you."
"In this parking lot?!" I snapped. She said she didn't have time and left. The administrator continued, "What if we called the police?" I told her, "I've explained this very thing to the Sheriff, and he agreed!"
By now I was getting mad. "You really think it's safer for me to walk all three children --" I had to pull rank here; sometimes three children gives you moral authority "-- across this parking lot, with all these minivans backing out?!" I gestured toward the white minivan parked next to me. It was hers.
"Now THAT is dangerous, and it is the far far more likely scenario than someone taking my car." They paused, taken aback by my escalating belligerence. "I take my children's safety very seriously, and walking three little children across a busy parking lot isn't it!"
The principal backed down and made one of his usual fumbling comments about just wanting to let me know, and I thanked his hurrying back for his concern. The administrator followed quickly, unwilling to stick out the evolving tirade. I can't say I blame her. I regretted getting mad, but I was in no mood to be judged.
But it was the other parent that really irked me. "Wowwwww..." Like I was dangling them off a balcony. Of course later, I wished I'd asker her: "When you back your car out, are you completely certain there is no child behind your car? Because here's one thing you can be certain of: it's not one of mine." But even if I'd thought to suggest that she herself might be the very danger against which I was protecting them, it wouldn't have done any good. She was already completely convinced of my irresponsibility. I think I saw her writing my license number down.
None of them noticed that my first-grader is one of the very few who still has to hold my hand across the parking lot. Even at TLC, all three of my children still have to hold my hand across the small private 3-car lot right in front of the building. At TLC, about 5% of the time, I have to make two trips to get everyone in the car, as I need two hands for the football hold for a tantruming Katrina. I take parking-lot safety very seriously; as a motorcylist I knew the odds of my getting hit in a parking lot were far far higher than on a highway.
As Dave points out, my primary motivation for leaving them in the car is convenience, not safety, but I absolutely reject a safety argument for bringing them with me as specious, not thought-out, knee-jerk, politically correct, and just plain wrong given this set of circumstances. By far their -- and my -- biggest threat in that parking lot is other cars, not kidnapping. Every safety decision is balanced against convenience, though most people bristle at that idea. Safety above all else! the dogma goes. No one adheres to that, or they'd never get into cars. Why don't you wear a helmet in a car? Because it's inconvenient.
Well, I found a fine way to ingratiate myself with the school administration, now, didn't I? We were already on thin ice. Something tells me my request for an AM time for my kindergartner won't be met with any extra consideration.
I don't expect a lot of support from you readers for my position, but for what it's worth, I'm by no means the only one to leave small children in a car for a few minutes on a regular basis. In many cases, it's safer. And it's certainly more convenient. "Woww....."
2/12/09
Already tense, I went about the usual routine of pickups after work -- an easy day, since Katrina was at TLC. I was really looking forward to seeing them, and Katrina rewarded me with a spectacular "Mom-my!", ran to me and gave me her version of a huge hug. She turned to the line of toddlers staring and announced, "Thas' my Mommy!" It was the sort of scene that makes other adults smile and marvel at our close connection and my fabulous parenting.
All to be unravelled in the next few minutes.
As usual, I left Julian and Katrina in the car while I fetched Gabriel. But this time, it took extra time to get him since he had to sit on the pot first. Thank goodness he's speedier about business than Julian, but still, he's a kid, and it takes some time.
While waiting, I looked outside at my car, and saw a scene developing. One of the school administrators -- the same one whose sh*t list I'm already on for a possible residency violation -- and another parent (or teacher perhaps) were peering into my car. Great, they see Julian and Katrina alone in the car. I looked at them from my vantage point, they saw me, but they weren't clear of my role in this scenario.
I went back to hurry Gabriel, then anxiously back to the door -- now the principal had joined them, and the parent was on a cell phone. I considered going out, but I needed to keep after Gabriel. Finally he was ready, and I rushed him across the parking lot.
"Oh, are these yours?" the administrator asked suspiciously.
As I expected, the lecture about the dangers of leaving them in the car ensued, and I cut it off with saying they were far safer in the car than if I were to walk all three of them across this busy parking lot twice, twice a day.
The other parent was particularly horrified at my laxness: "What if someone takes your car?" Oh please! I told her I had my keys, and it was far, far, FAR more likely that they'd get hit in the parking lot by another car. That happens. Car thefts and kidnappings from school parking lots in Cupertino....not so much.
The school administrator pointed out I hadn't even locked my car. I looked squarely at her and said, "Really? Do you really think they're safer locked in? What if something happened to me? Then no one could get to them!" She shrugged, unprepared for such a direct question. "I think they're better off if people can open the doors."
"Wowwww..." said the other parent.
The administrator persisted: "What if they get out and run across the parking lot?" I answered that one is strapped in, and the other just doesn't do that. He's five for Pete's sake.
"Woww....." said the other parent, almost in pity at my inability to see the obvious threat of kidnapping and car theft versus a toddler breaking away and getting hit by a car. She said critically, "They're safest with you."
"In this parking lot?!" I snapped. She said she didn't have time and left. The administrator continued, "What if we called the police?" I told her, "I've explained this very thing to the Sheriff, and he agreed!"
By now I was getting mad. "You really think it's safer for me to walk all three children --" I had to pull rank here; sometimes three children gives you moral authority "-- across this parking lot, with all these minivans backing out?!" I gestured toward the white minivan parked next to me. It was hers.
"Now THAT is dangerous, and it is the far far more likely scenario than someone taking my car." They paused, taken aback by my escalating belligerence. "I take my children's safety very seriously, and walking three little children across a busy parking lot isn't it!"
The principal backed down and made one of his usual fumbling comments about just wanting to let me know, and I thanked his hurrying back for his concern. The administrator followed quickly, unwilling to stick out the evolving tirade. I can't say I blame her. I regretted getting mad, but I was in no mood to be judged.
But it was the other parent that really irked me. "Wowwwww..." Like I was dangling them off a balcony. Of course later, I wished I'd asker her: "When you back your car out, are you completely certain there is no child behind your car? Because here's one thing you can be certain of: it's not one of mine." But even if I'd thought to suggest that she herself might be the very danger against which I was protecting them, it wouldn't have done any good. She was already completely convinced of my irresponsibility. I think I saw her writing my license number down.
None of them noticed that my first-grader is one of the very few who still has to hold my hand across the parking lot. Even at TLC, all three of my children still have to hold my hand across the small private 3-car lot right in front of the building. At TLC, about 5% of the time, I have to make two trips to get everyone in the car, as I need two hands for the football hold for a tantruming Katrina. I take parking-lot safety very seriously; as a motorcylist I knew the odds of my getting hit in a parking lot were far far higher than on a highway.
As Dave points out, my primary motivation for leaving them in the car is convenience, not safety, but I absolutely reject a safety argument for bringing them with me as specious, not thought-out, knee-jerk, politically correct, and just plain wrong given this set of circumstances. By far their -- and my -- biggest threat in that parking lot is other cars, not kidnapping. Every safety decision is balanced against convenience, though most people bristle at that idea. Safety above all else! the dogma goes. No one adheres to that, or they'd never get into cars. Why don't you wear a helmet in a car? Because it's inconvenient.
Well, I found a fine way to ingratiate myself with the school administration, now, didn't I? We were already on thin ice. Something tells me my request for an AM time for my kindergartner won't be met with any extra consideration.
I don't expect a lot of support from you readers for my position, but for what it's worth, I'm by no means the only one to leave small children in a car for a few minutes on a regular basis. In many cases, it's safer. And it's certainly more convenient. "Woww....."
2/12/09
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
2/11/09 I love you Julian
Julian got a list of all the names of the kids in his class. It didn't say "you must write a valentine," but that was the implication. Like I have bandwidth to oversee his valentines, and Gabriel's and Katrina's too. Not happening here.
No matter; Julian took it upon himself to write them. I gave him some blank paper, and he decided for himself to draw a heart, and write "I love you ____ Julian," for each kid in his class. He's up to 8 out of 15.
My sweet, sweet boy. I love you Julian!
Potty-training practice is going .... well .... sort of. If even the tiniest step is made each day, it's a step, and that's where we're at: tiny steps. The BIG step of actually sitting on a toilet, let alone actually going in it, is far, far away. But for now, I'm thrilled with the progress of being willing to wear underpants -- or at least, reluctantly accepting the absence of a diaper.
She insists on wearing Gabriel's Thomas underpants though.
Our tiny (but really, big!) steps include telling us each time she went in the underpants, and one time taking them off herself after going. She didn't ask about a diaper at all tonight. For only three diaper-free nights at home, this is all far more progress than I'd dared hope.
2/11/09
No matter; Julian took it upon himself to write them. I gave him some blank paper, and he decided for himself to draw a heart, and write "I love you ____ Julian," for each kid in his class. He's up to 8 out of 15.
My sweet, sweet boy. I love you Julian!
Potty-training practice is going .... well .... sort of. If even the tiniest step is made each day, it's a step, and that's where we're at: tiny steps. The BIG step of actually sitting on a toilet, let alone actually going in it, is far, far away. But for now, I'm thrilled with the progress of being willing to wear underpants -- or at least, reluctantly accepting the absence of a diaper.
She insists on wearing Gabriel's Thomas underpants though.
Our tiny (but really, big!) steps include telling us each time she went in the underpants, and one time taking them off herself after going. She didn't ask about a diaper at all tonight. For only three diaper-free nights at home, this is all far more progress than I'd dared hope.
2/11/09
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
School readiness
Today we got a short evaluation for kindergarten readiness from Julian's preschool. The "academic" criteria are very elemental, though really, they should be. Despite what many patrons of our school district might think, it's only kindergarten. Things like recognizing letters, colors, shapes, numbers. By those measures, Katrina is almost ready for kindergarten!
More importantly, his teacher wrote "very good" for the social criteria: attention span, social maturity, gross and fine motor skills, self-discipline, class participation, and that based on her assessment of his social and emotional maturity, excellent success can be expected in Kindergarten.
Not that I was in any way worried about Julian. I actually had a hard time filling out a parent survey for his kindergarten registration, especially about his strengths and weaknesses, goals I have for him, if there are any issues the teacher should be aware of, does he work well in groups, etc. He's so well-rounded there's really not a lot to say besides "He's great!"
Yesterday I was trying to give Gabriel an example of how math can be useful in the real world, as he complains sometimes about why he has to do homework. I told him, "Today at work, I needed to know how many minutes there are in a day." He scrunched up his face, puzzled, and said, "Well, why would you need to know one-thousand four-hundred and forty?!" OK, OK, never mind. [ Addendum: this is something he memorized, not that he calculated on the fly. ]
Two days ago I was showing Dave some samples of new handles for our dining room hutch, and mentioned that three of them cost $15 each, but one cost only $3. "WHAT?!" Gabriel exclaimed, "FORTY-EIGHT DOLLARS?!" I stared at him. Could I do that in first grade? Would I have?
He calculates quickly, but it takes years of experience to put into context what $48 means. I'm still learning how myself. $15 is a lot for a handle, but $5 is a lot for a piece of cheesecake too. Fortunately, I don't need a lot of either, and I'm buying both.
More importantly, his teacher wrote "very good" for the social criteria: attention span, social maturity, gross and fine motor skills, self-discipline, class participation, and that based on her assessment of his social and emotional maturity, excellent success can be expected in Kindergarten.
Not that I was in any way worried about Julian. I actually had a hard time filling out a parent survey for his kindergarten registration, especially about his strengths and weaknesses, goals I have for him, if there are any issues the teacher should be aware of, does he work well in groups, etc. He's so well-rounded there's really not a lot to say besides "He's great!"
Yesterday I was trying to give Gabriel an example of how math can be useful in the real world, as he complains sometimes about why he has to do homework. I told him, "Today at work, I needed to know how many minutes there are in a day." He scrunched up his face, puzzled, and said, "Well, why would you need to know one-thousand four-hundred and forty?!" OK, OK, never mind. [ Addendum: this is something he memorized, not that he calculated on the fly. ]
Two days ago I was showing Dave some samples of new handles for our dining room hutch, and mentioned that three of them cost $15 each, but one cost only $3. "WHAT?!" Gabriel exclaimed, "FORTY-EIGHT DOLLARS?!" I stared at him. Could I do that in first grade? Would I have?
He calculates quickly, but it takes years of experience to put into context what $48 means. I'm still learning how myself. $15 is a lot for a handle, but $5 is a lot for a piece of cheesecake too. Fortunately, I don't need a lot of either, and I'm buying both.
2/10/09 MOMom
Mean Old Mom. I like this kind of meanness.
Tonight before bed, Julian asked for ice cream. He'd earned it, since as usual, he'd eaten all his dinner, including a healthy dose of spinach. Gabriel wanted ice cream too, but he hadn't touched his spinach. I told him no, he had to eat some spinach first. So I put a plate of creamed spinach in front of him and told him that was his road to ice cream. He objected at first, but ice cream was too powerful an incentive.
This on the tails of a complaint by the boys, on the way home from pickups, "Mommy, how come we never get to go to McDonald's?"
Yessiree, this is the sort of mom-you-are-so-mean I can live with. Despite the strong risk that I'm permanently turning them off to spinach, and elevating McDonald's to forbidden-fruit status.
2/10/09
Tonight before bed, Julian asked for ice cream. He'd earned it, since as usual, he'd eaten all his dinner, including a healthy dose of spinach. Gabriel wanted ice cream too, but he hadn't touched his spinach. I told him no, he had to eat some spinach first. So I put a plate of creamed spinach in front of him and told him that was his road to ice cream. He objected at first, but ice cream was too powerful an incentive.
This on the tails of a complaint by the boys, on the way home from pickups, "Mommy, how come we never get to go to McDonald's?"
Yessiree, this is the sort of mom-you-are-so-mean I can live with. Despite the strong risk that I'm permanently turning them off to spinach, and elevating McDonald's to forbidden-fruit status.
2/10/09
Monday, February 09, 2009
2/9/09 Changes
Whew! What a day of logistics.
It's time to decide and commit to where Katrina is going to go next year, as I need to reserve her spot at TLC (Julian's most excellent preschool where she goes Tues-Thurs) by Thursday. I hate to break the ties from Tonya's, but even Tonya thinks Katrina needs to go to one or the other, not both. I'm sure she's right. I'd much rather Tonya's family daycare, but it's just far enough, and opens just late enough, that it puts me on a busy expressway, max distance from work, at the peak traffic hour. But this might not matter so much when we're living closer to everything, and the boys both go to the same place.
The BIG change is that Tonya is suggesting to a group of parents that they all potty-train their toddlers, and asked if I'd like Katrina to join. The other kids are overall much readier -- they have gone on the potty before, and don't resist the whole idea with screaming fury -- but the group-think might work on Katrina. (This is a handy departure from older older brother's style!)
So tonight, I decided for this week: no diapers at home.
Katrina was outraged at the idea when we got home and I stripped her down, but she's distractable and to my surprise, I was able to get her past the tantrum. Then she said she wanted underpants, understandably enough. After vociferously rejecting various suggestions I had, including the Elmo set she'd chosen herself at Target, she agreed to Thomas underpants. Fortunately, we still have a stash of those in Gabriel's drawer. Looks like I'll be training my girl in Spider-Man and Scooby-Doo instead of Princesses and Dora.
Having done this twice before, I'd be surprised if she potty-trains in the next few weeks, but we're laying important groundwork for later. I had to change her clothes twice, but this is good -- she got to see and feel the consequences. And I confirmed what I've suspected for a while: she's past the baby-phase of going ALL the time, unlike her brothers at this age who went every 15 minutes. Physically, she can probably handle it. Cooperation is the much bigger hurdle. Miss Contrary has to decide for herself, but it seems she needs a little push.
Now I have to figure out if I can cut the tie to family daycare. I'm not sure I can. Who's the resistant one who needs training here?!
Speaking of logistics and changes: I turned in the kindergarten registration packet for Julian today at the school. My boy is going to kindergarten! I actually got choked up leaving the school office with my registration receipt.
2/9/09
It's time to decide and commit to where Katrina is going to go next year, as I need to reserve her spot at TLC (Julian's most excellent preschool where she goes Tues-Thurs) by Thursday. I hate to break the ties from Tonya's, but even Tonya thinks Katrina needs to go to one or the other, not both. I'm sure she's right. I'd much rather Tonya's family daycare, but it's just far enough, and opens just late enough, that it puts me on a busy expressway, max distance from work, at the peak traffic hour. But this might not matter so much when we're living closer to everything, and the boys both go to the same place.
The BIG change is that Tonya is suggesting to a group of parents that they all potty-train their toddlers, and asked if I'd like Katrina to join. The other kids are overall much readier -- they have gone on the potty before, and don't resist the whole idea with screaming fury -- but the group-think might work on Katrina. (This is a handy departure from older older brother's style!)
So tonight, I decided for this week: no diapers at home.
Katrina was outraged at the idea when we got home and I stripped her down, but she's distractable and to my surprise, I was able to get her past the tantrum. Then she said she wanted underpants, understandably enough. After vociferously rejecting various suggestions I had, including the Elmo set she'd chosen herself at Target, she agreed to Thomas underpants. Fortunately, we still have a stash of those in Gabriel's drawer. Looks like I'll be training my girl in Spider-Man and Scooby-Doo instead of Princesses and Dora.
Having done this twice before, I'd be surprised if she potty-trains in the next few weeks, but we're laying important groundwork for later. I had to change her clothes twice, but this is good -- she got to see and feel the consequences. And I confirmed what I've suspected for a while: she's past the baby-phase of going ALL the time, unlike her brothers at this age who went every 15 minutes. Physically, she can probably handle it. Cooperation is the much bigger hurdle. Miss Contrary has to decide for herself, but it seems she needs a little push.
Now I have to figure out if I can cut the tie to family daycare. I'm not sure I can. Who's the resistant one who needs training here?!
Speaking of logistics and changes: I turned in the kindergarten registration packet for Julian today at the school. My boy is going to kindergarten! I actually got choked up leaving the school office with my registration receipt.
2/9/09
Sunday, February 08, 2009
2/8/09 Sensitivities
Julian in so many ways is more physically sensitive than Gabriel. His tummy has always been more volatile, he's horribly allergic to penicillin, he gets canker sores, he gets nosebleeds -- he even has a lot more snot than Gabriel! (sorry, TMI.)
And now, I suspect Julian has a genuine food allergy: kiwi. A benign one as they go, since it's not exactly a pervasive food, but he's very consistent in complaining that his throat hurts as soon as he eats one. It's no threat and he's in no danger, but it's a shame, because he's the only one here besides me who will eat kiwi, and they're healthy!
A first today: I didn't carry Katrina at all leaving the Y this morning!
Not that she can't walk of course, but it's a question of cooperation. She won't always (ever?) hold my hand crossing streets or parking lots or walk with me. But today she was great walking back to the car (a fair distance since the Y's parking lot was full). Let's gloss over the fact that I carried her in in a football hold, kicking and screaming!
Tonight, Julian is concerned that the Earth will turn into a star.
2/8/09
And now, I suspect Julian has a genuine food allergy: kiwi. A benign one as they go, since it's not exactly a pervasive food, but he's very consistent in complaining that his throat hurts as soon as he eats one. It's no threat and he's in no danger, but it's a shame, because he's the only one here besides me who will eat kiwi, and they're healthy!
A first today: I didn't carry Katrina at all leaving the Y this morning!
Not that she can't walk of course, but it's a question of cooperation. She won't always (ever?) hold my hand crossing streets or parking lots or walk with me. But today she was great walking back to the car (a fair distance since the Y's parking lot was full). Let's gloss over the fact that I carried her in in a football hold, kicking and screaming!
Tonight, Julian is concerned that the Earth will turn into a star.
2/8/09
Saturday, February 07, 2009
2/7/09 On Strike
Gabriel's birthday party was today! A week after his birthday, and his invitees had less than two weeks' notice (sigh) -- but the very small set of kids I could persuade him to invite (he's funny that way, it has to be kids he plays with ALL the time) could all make it.
My excuse for not doing Gabrie's party at home is that it's becoming a pain giving parties at our rental house, but the truth is, I just don't know what to do with seven 7-year-olds. I couldn't get the ice-skating place to call me back, so, right next to the ice rink, I arranged for a party at Strike, an upscale bowling alley.
When we first walked in, I thought I had another Chuck E Cheese situation on my hands -- noisy, screens flashing everywhere, no one at the party check-in desk. But as soon as we met with the party coordinator, everything went great. I couldn't believe how on top of things and helpful the staff were. They serve party junk food and drinks right at the lanes, provide all the plates, forks and napkins, offered to refrigerate the cake, helped me carry stuff and set up the bowling lanes. Staff members stopped by frequently to help and remind me not to stress out and to enjoy it.
They even put up a sign!
The bowling was great, too. They have a modern system that allows you to set "bumpers on" per player (prevents gutter balls). There was also a light metal ramp that was good for the ones who really can't handle a ball, like Julian. They offered me a set of shoes too (and a free glass of wine!), so I bowled also. (I scored a 125, not bad considering I haven't bowled in years and was very distracted!)
The biggest problem was keeping the kids moving. One lane luckily got three of the older taller kids, and they buzzed along well together. The other lane had Gina (who should have been with the speedy lane and blew all the boys away scorewise), and the remainder of the group, who were much slower and goofing around and weren't paying attention to who was up next. Gabriel was one of the worst bowlers, but he had a great time.
One boy's mom brought him late, after soccer practice, and she stayed and was a terrific help, pouring lemonade and reminding who was up next to go. Her son was quite the clown too.
I was torn about whether or not to bring Julian. In retrospect, I shouldn't have. He really was out of his element; the pacing of a group of 6-7-year-olds is much much faster than he could handle, and it took a lot of my attention. But the real reason was that Gabriel didn't really want him there -- it was his day with his friends. I hated it when my father forced my younger siblings on me with my friends. I can make plenty of my own mistakes without repeating my Dad's too.
After the bowling, they moved us to a table where we could sing happy birthday. I brought the cake, but they were prepared with candles and matches, and a manager even took photos! I couldn't believe it. They were SO helpful.
A good-sized group. Between 4 and 8 guests is perfect for a party of kids this age.
I really liked getting to know Gabriel's friends. Two are CDC-mates, two are classmates, one is both, and one is a babyhood friend. If you can judge someone by their friends, I have a pretty neat kid.
The cake was a very last-minute creation, and really last-minute because I zoomed out to buy some premade fondant for the bowling ball a few hours before the party. That took less time than thinking of how to make an edible bowling ball with things on hand.
Given all the time demands and pressure I've been under, decorating a cake could either seem foolish, or, a very necessary diversion. I vote for the latter. Store-bought cakes have their place -- I'm glad I did it for the family party -- but the process is missing. Gabriel had a great time watching me, picking the color for the bowling ball, laughing at the fallen pin, suggesting the "action lines," and reminding me numerous times that one of my cake-decorating mentor friends is much, much, MUCH BETTER AT THIS THAN YOU ARE, MOM!!! (he's right). That's irreplaceable. I don't think I'll ever try to surprise the kids with a cake I decorate, because the real fun is in the making, not the big reveal. Hmm, cake decorating as a metaphor for child-raising!
It wasn't the cheapest way to go, but I would do a party at Strike again in a heartbeat. In fact, I'm looking forward to one!
2/7/09
My excuse for not doing Gabrie's party at home is that it's becoming a pain giving parties at our rental house, but the truth is, I just don't know what to do with seven 7-year-olds. I couldn't get the ice-skating place to call me back, so, right next to the ice rink, I arranged for a party at Strike, an upscale bowling alley.
When we first walked in, I thought I had another Chuck E Cheese situation on my hands -- noisy, screens flashing everywhere, no one at the party check-in desk. But as soon as we met with the party coordinator, everything went great. I couldn't believe how on top of things and helpful the staff were. They serve party junk food and drinks right at the lanes, provide all the plates, forks and napkins, offered to refrigerate the cake, helped me carry stuff and set up the bowling lanes. Staff members stopped by frequently to help and remind me not to stress out and to enjoy it.
They even put up a sign!
The bowling was great, too. They have a modern system that allows you to set "bumpers on" per player (prevents gutter balls). There was also a light metal ramp that was good for the ones who really can't handle a ball, like Julian. They offered me a set of shoes too (and a free glass of wine!), so I bowled also. (I scored a 125, not bad considering I haven't bowled in years and was very distracted!)
The biggest problem was keeping the kids moving. One lane luckily got three of the older taller kids, and they buzzed along well together. The other lane had Gina (who should have been with the speedy lane and blew all the boys away scorewise), and the remainder of the group, who were much slower and goofing around and weren't paying attention to who was up next. Gabriel was one of the worst bowlers, but he had a great time.
One boy's mom brought him late, after soccer practice, and she stayed and was a terrific help, pouring lemonade and reminding who was up next to go. Her son was quite the clown too.
I was torn about whether or not to bring Julian. In retrospect, I shouldn't have. He really was out of his element; the pacing of a group of 6-7-year-olds is much much faster than he could handle, and it took a lot of my attention. But the real reason was that Gabriel didn't really want him there -- it was his day with his friends. I hated it when my father forced my younger siblings on me with my friends. I can make plenty of my own mistakes without repeating my Dad's too.
After the bowling, they moved us to a table where we could sing happy birthday. I brought the cake, but they were prepared with candles and matches, and a manager even took photos! I couldn't believe it. They were SO helpful.
A good-sized group. Between 4 and 8 guests is perfect for a party of kids this age.
I really liked getting to know Gabriel's friends. Two are CDC-mates, two are classmates, one is both, and one is a babyhood friend. If you can judge someone by their friends, I have a pretty neat kid.
The cake was a very last-minute creation, and really last-minute because I zoomed out to buy some premade fondant for the bowling ball a few hours before the party. That took less time than thinking of how to make an edible bowling ball with things on hand.
Given all the time demands and pressure I've been under, decorating a cake could either seem foolish, or, a very necessary diversion. I vote for the latter. Store-bought cakes have their place -- I'm glad I did it for the family party -- but the process is missing. Gabriel had a great time watching me, picking the color for the bowling ball, laughing at the fallen pin, suggesting the "action lines," and reminding me numerous times that one of my cake-decorating mentor friends is much, much, MUCH BETTER AT THIS THAN YOU ARE, MOM!!! (he's right). That's irreplaceable. I don't think I'll ever try to surprise the kids with a cake I decorate, because the real fun is in the making, not the big reveal. Hmm, cake decorating as a metaphor for child-raising!
It wasn't the cheapest way to go, but I would do a party at Strike again in a heartbeat. In fact, I'm looking forward to one!
2/7/09
Friday, February 06, 2009
2/6/09 The Work Day
I can't wait until I can go to work on Fridays -- it'd be a lot less work!
I dragged my sorry rear end out of bed at 7:15, sacrificing timely grooming and dressing for a little extra sleep, and sprang right into action getting kids moving, dressed, fed, teeth brushed, knapsacks packed, lunches out, shoes and jackets on, excuses fielded, strap in the car. In theory, spending time with my children in the morning shouldn't be work, but in practice, getting them all out the door -- including the 6.5 minutes I spend getting dressed myself -- is hard labor.
Then it was post office, jobsite meeting, lighting store, plumbing store, bath store, (shh, Starbucks), home to make immediate phone calls, upload photos, send emails including photos of various problems that came up at the jobsite meeting.
At 3:30 I lay down to ease my breaking back -- it's still verrry iffy. At 4:00, I had breakfast. Sleep is always the higher priority.
Then it was right back to action writing checks, answering email, paying bills, opening boxes, zooming out to pick up kids -- out of time to unload my completely packed car, and Gabriel had to climb over a long box between his and Julian's seat (this turned out to be a good thing!). With all three strapped in, it was back to the jobsite to unload the car, find a few things, reload with a few delivered packages -- a lot of work since the front entries to the house are blocked off right now.
Finally, after 6pm, time to go home with my arguing brood and....work some more?!
Forget it! I called Dave: "meet us at the restaurant!" Gabriel rebelled, "Why can't we go home and have macaroni and cheese?" "Because I worked hard today and I'm not cooking tonight!" "You worked hard doing what?" he demanded.
I didn't think he'd understand.
Thank goodness, Katrina was the model toddler at the restaurant this time, but it's one of our longtime favorites, a Japanese restaurant that's very kid-friendly. "Mmm, yummy!" she said of the miso soup. We pulled it off with no preparation and no kid-gear at all. The only issue we had was Gabriel hugging and kissing Katrina so much we had to move him so she'd quit screaming at him after she got tired of it.
I made of ton of remodeling progress today, such as delivering a carload full of light fixtures, and finished up most of the final ordering. It's actually way past time that I should be ordering things; they should be installing everything now. But while I can spend 10 minutes picking a kitchen countertop or staircase carpet, it can take me days to settle on the right handtowel holder. I'm still missing a doorstop here or there, but now anything I order now is to address a problem (like discovering today that a small medicine cabinet, now installed and painted, arrived without a door).
It's encouraging to get past big hurdles, but as I look around the muddy, gouged, weedy yards, I see many many years of work ahead.
2/6/09
I dragged my sorry rear end out of bed at 7:15, sacrificing timely grooming and dressing for a little extra sleep, and sprang right into action getting kids moving, dressed, fed, teeth brushed, knapsacks packed, lunches out, shoes and jackets on, excuses fielded, strap in the car. In theory, spending time with my children in the morning shouldn't be work, but in practice, getting them all out the door -- including the 6.5 minutes I spend getting dressed myself -- is hard labor.
Then it was post office, jobsite meeting, lighting store, plumbing store, bath store, (shh, Starbucks), home to make immediate phone calls, upload photos, send emails including photos of various problems that came up at the jobsite meeting.
At 3:30 I lay down to ease my breaking back -- it's still verrry iffy. At 4:00, I had breakfast. Sleep is always the higher priority.
Then it was right back to action writing checks, answering email, paying bills, opening boxes, zooming out to pick up kids -- out of time to unload my completely packed car, and Gabriel had to climb over a long box between his and Julian's seat (this turned out to be a good thing!). With all three strapped in, it was back to the jobsite to unload the car, find a few things, reload with a few delivered packages -- a lot of work since the front entries to the house are blocked off right now.
Finally, after 6pm, time to go home with my arguing brood and....work some more?!
Forget it! I called Dave: "meet us at the restaurant!" Gabriel rebelled, "Why can't we go home and have macaroni and cheese?" "Because I worked hard today and I'm not cooking tonight!" "You worked hard doing what?" he demanded.
I didn't think he'd understand.
Thank goodness, Katrina was the model toddler at the restaurant this time, but it's one of our longtime favorites, a Japanese restaurant that's very kid-friendly. "Mmm, yummy!" she said of the miso soup. We pulled it off with no preparation and no kid-gear at all. The only issue we had was Gabriel hugging and kissing Katrina so much we had to move him so she'd quit screaming at him after she got tired of it.
I made of ton of remodeling progress today, such as delivering a carload full of light fixtures, and finished up most of the final ordering. It's actually way past time that I should be ordering things; they should be installing everything now. But while I can spend 10 minutes picking a kitchen countertop or staircase carpet, it can take me days to settle on the right handtowel holder. I'm still missing a doorstop here or there, but now anything I order now is to address a problem (like discovering today that a small medicine cabinet, now installed and painted, arrived without a door).
It's encouraging to get past big hurdles, but as I look around the muddy, gouged, weedy yards, I see many many years of work ahead.
2/6/09
Thursday, February 05, 2009
2/5/09 Bills
A bad bill day. Today I engaged in a serious struggle to get my "client," also my former employer, to even acknowledge they've received invoices -- and when they do, they take 30 days to pay them. I've been working for free since the beginning of December, and it's getting old.
Then today, our contractor sends a bill, and expects us to pay immediately. They give me a pass because I send the payment online, and it takes a whole (gasp) 6 days to arrive. That means I have to pay it within hours from when I receive the bill, no leeway. Yet my client can't even keep track of mail, answer phone calls, or get their internal process straight.
I should have known the day would be like this. It started on the phone with the Veteran's Administration, with the same conversation I have with them every time I call: "No, my father does not live in California -- I do. No, don't contact me to arrange a meeting with him, contact his place in Massachusetts. Sure, what the heck, put one of your useless notes in his file just like the last 10 people did, knock yourself out. Hey, I know a company in California that would be perfect for you!"
A nice coffee & cheesecake night out with mom friends helps bring reality back. It buys me another few days before I crack.
2/5/09
Then today, our contractor sends a bill, and expects us to pay immediately. They give me a pass because I send the payment online, and it takes a whole (gasp) 6 days to arrive. That means I have to pay it within hours from when I receive the bill, no leeway. Yet my client can't even keep track of mail, answer phone calls, or get their internal process straight.
I should have known the day would be like this. It started on the phone with the Veteran's Administration, with the same conversation I have with them every time I call: "No, my father does not live in California -- I do. No, don't contact me to arrange a meeting with him, contact his place in Massachusetts. Sure, what the heck, put one of your useless notes in his file just like the last 10 people did, knock yourself out. Hey, I know a company in California that would be perfect for you!"
A nice coffee & cheesecake night out with mom friends helps bring reality back. It buys me another few days before I crack.
2/5/09
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
2/4/09 28 Stats
I took Katrina to the pediatrician today for her 27-month checkup....right on time, since she turns 28 months tomorrow. Isn't it interesting how "some people" can be so consistent about being late?
Katrina is:
35-1/2" long (60 %ile)
26.5 lbs (30 %ile)
Scared of stethoscopes
Completely healthy!
As usual, there was little to talk about because she's developing normally and has no issues to speak of. (Being grumpy and demanding and bossy doesn't count.) I didn't even think to bring up the occasional hive episodes, and I already knew that this recent stammer thing isn't a big deal. The doc actually said it's a little more likely on kids who do speak well. In fact, the only noteworthy thing about this visit was Katrina's language progress -- that she went from a word here or there at 18 months to a really pretty rich grammar and vocabulary for a 2-1/4-year-old.
I had to chuckle when the doc kindly offered some advice on the dinnertime tantrums, which I'm THRILLED to report have subsided in the past week. It was the usual standard and normally valid advice, which means it isn't Doudna-proofed. After our experiences with Gabriel, I became convinced that anti-tantrum advice works best on kids who don't seriously tantrum. (Recall that after age 4, we sought professional help from a psychologist!) Julian's softer temperament was further proof -- magazine methods worked great on him, but we didn't really need it. Thank goodness I have Julian to remind me that I'm not entirely defective when it comes to producing agreeable children.
I hope she tests negative for peanut allergies in another 9 months...I made a devastating discovery today: Trader Joe's stopped carrying my favorite Soybean Butter!
2/4/09
Katrina is:
As usual, there was little to talk about because she's developing normally and has no issues to speak of. (Being grumpy and demanding and bossy doesn't count.) I didn't even think to bring up the occasional hive episodes, and I already knew that this recent stammer thing isn't a big deal. The doc actually said it's a little more likely on kids who do speak well. In fact, the only noteworthy thing about this visit was Katrina's language progress -- that she went from a word here or there at 18 months to a really pretty rich grammar and vocabulary for a 2-1/4-year-old.
I had to chuckle when the doc kindly offered some advice on the dinnertime tantrums, which I'm THRILLED to report have subsided in the past week. It was the usual standard and normally valid advice, which means it isn't Doudna-proofed. After our experiences with Gabriel, I became convinced that anti-tantrum advice works best on kids who don't seriously tantrum. (Recall that after age 4, we sought professional help from a psychologist!) Julian's softer temperament was further proof -- magazine methods worked great on him, but we didn't really need it. Thank goodness I have Julian to remind me that I'm not entirely defective when it comes to producing agreeable children.
I hope she tests negative for peanut allergies in another 9 months...I made a devastating discovery today: Trader Joe's stopped carrying my favorite Soybean Butter!
2/4/09
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
2/3/09 I am a rock...I am an....
...island?
No. Definitely not. Please don't even say "island" around me.
I think I will Officially Lose My Mind today. Tomorrow, latest.
Thanks to measuring a friend's altogether reasonable island in her kitchen, I flipped out when realizing my future island would be 95" long. I mean, I've always known it would be 95" long, it was designed to seat 3, after all. Sounds, and looks, reasonable....
...until you take a tape measure to a friend's altogether reasonable island, pull it to 95" and realize that 95" is altogether unreasonable. 95" is almost eight feet long!
This is no time to be making changes. Electrical, cabinets....numerous things have been planned around a 95" island. ANY change at this stage risks introducing new problems, and certainly new costs and delays.
Still, it panicked me. We've invested so much heart and soul (read: time and money): I have to love -- no, LOVE, LOVE!! -- this! What if I walk in the house for the first time, when it's a house and not a jobsite, and go "Hey, what's with that island? It's huge!" I'm not an eight-foot-island sort of person! Really, I'm low-maintenance, right?!
This isn't a measurement issue, it's an identity crisis. I'm not suited for this. I'm too compulsive, too detail-oriented, too indecisive. Remodels are made for people who have broad ranges of satisfaction, who can shrug their shoulders and say "eh, whatever" -- not chronic optimizers who wrangle about every last millimeter of usable space. This would be much easier if I were a designer-type: I'd simply follow what the designer said about the "look," and be confident. But few people can beat a design far past its natural death on functionality and agonize to achieve perfection as I can.
Work, for me, is a relief: in network engineering, tiny details, immaculate organization, specific interpretation of rules, complete determinism and utter objectivity are hero's tools. With computers, there are no opinions, only irrefutable facts. That's my element. This fuzzy "looks good" stuff continues to be foreign, to the point of toxicity, to me.
Alas, my ever-patient kitchen designer compromised by bringing the island down to 85" -- still over 7 feet, but not quite as overwhelming.
Design isn't my forte, as anyone reading half a blog post knows...so my "theme" for decorating the house simplifies that, I think: I like the idea of regional-appropriate decorations, as well as ones that have some special meaning to us.
So I was beside myself to find these barstools for the Island -- on sale! -- at Sturbridge Yankee Workshop.
(In case any readers are not aware, we live in Santa Clara County, home to a fertile valley with a long tradition, almost gone now, of agriculture.)
My only hesitation about getting different fruits on the barstools is the fights this will cause: with three children -- heck, even two -- conflicts over a particular stool are inevitable. Still, I have to wonder: which fruit would they fight over the most?
I'm looking forward to having that problem, because by then, the island will be cast in stone, and I won't be driving anyone too too crazy anymore. Except myself, but alas, that is my burden.
Please take a moment to appreciate the depth of my husband's patience and stamina.
2/3/09
No. Definitely not. Please don't even say "island" around me.
I think I will Officially Lose My Mind today. Tomorrow, latest.
Thanks to measuring a friend's altogether reasonable island in her kitchen, I flipped out when realizing my future island would be 95" long. I mean, I've always known it would be 95" long, it was designed to seat 3, after all. Sounds, and looks, reasonable....
...until you take a tape measure to a friend's altogether reasonable island, pull it to 95" and realize that 95" is altogether unreasonable. 95" is almost eight feet long!
This is no time to be making changes. Electrical, cabinets....numerous things have been planned around a 95" island. ANY change at this stage risks introducing new problems, and certainly new costs and delays.
Still, it panicked me. We've invested so much heart and soul (read: time and money): I have to love -- no, LOVE, LOVE!! -- this! What if I walk in the house for the first time, when it's a house and not a jobsite, and go "Hey, what's with that island? It's huge!" I'm not an eight-foot-island sort of person! Really, I'm low-maintenance, right?!
This isn't a measurement issue, it's an identity crisis. I'm not suited for this. I'm too compulsive, too detail-oriented, too indecisive. Remodels are made for people who have broad ranges of satisfaction, who can shrug their shoulders and say "eh, whatever" -- not chronic optimizers who wrangle about every last millimeter of usable space. This would be much easier if I were a designer-type: I'd simply follow what the designer said about the "look," and be confident. But few people can beat a design far past its natural death on functionality and agonize to achieve perfection as I can.
Work, for me, is a relief: in network engineering, tiny details, immaculate organization, specific interpretation of rules, complete determinism and utter objectivity are hero's tools. With computers, there are no opinions, only irrefutable facts. That's my element. This fuzzy "looks good" stuff continues to be foreign, to the point of toxicity, to me.
Alas, my ever-patient kitchen designer compromised by bringing the island down to 85" -- still over 7 feet, but not quite as overwhelming.
Design isn't my forte, as anyone reading half a blog post knows...so my "theme" for decorating the house simplifies that, I think: I like the idea of regional-appropriate decorations, as well as ones that have some special meaning to us.
So I was beside myself to find these barstools for the Island -- on sale! -- at Sturbridge Yankee Workshop.
(In case any readers are not aware, we live in Santa Clara County, home to a fertile valley with a long tradition, almost gone now, of agriculture.)
My only hesitation about getting different fruits on the barstools is the fights this will cause: with three children -- heck, even two -- conflicts over a particular stool are inevitable. Still, I have to wonder: which fruit would they fight over the most?
I'm looking forward to having that problem, because by then, the island will be cast in stone, and I won't be driving anyone too too crazy anymore. Except myself, but alas, that is my burden.
Please take a moment to appreciate the depth of my husband's patience and stamina.
2/3/09
Monday, February 02, 2009
2/2/09 One Hundred
Once again, the sort of busywork I can't stand, but it was relatively harmless this time: to "celebrate" 100 days of school, Gabriel has to put 100 items in a plastic bag to bring to school. He had to do this in kindergarten too. Is the point to reinforce the ability to count to 100? Or to lose 100 Lego pieces you insisted on using?
There was one plus of the discussion of 100 items. Julian said he could only count to 60, and I said I was sure he could count to 100, and if he couldn't, I'd help him. I used this to keep Julian in the kitchen with me as I prepared dinner, which is far far less trouble than dropping dinner-making activities every few seconds to go scold him to leave Katrina alone for the hundredth time. He happily recited every number between 1 and 100 with no hesitation.
He can count to 100 and read...academically he's ready for kindergarten. Socially? He's got to learn to quit bugging the girls!
2/2/09
There was one plus of the discussion of 100 items. Julian said he could only count to 60, and I said I was sure he could count to 100, and if he couldn't, I'd help him. I used this to keep Julian in the kitchen with me as I prepared dinner, which is far far less trouble than dropping dinner-making activities every few seconds to go scold him to leave Katrina alone for the hundredth time. He happily recited every number between 1 and 100 with no hesitation.
He can count to 100 and read...academically he's ready for kindergarten. Socially? He's got to learn to quit bugging the girls!
2/2/09
Sunday, February 01, 2009
2/1/09 The stammer
I'm a big Bob Newhart fan. I can't explain why exactly, but he is so deadpan, so even, he completely cracks me up. I was thrilled to discover he had a small role on Desperate Housewives!
Anyway, in some-or-other episode of one of his TV shows, he clarified that he doesn't stutter, he-he-he stammers. Having a friend with a son who stutters, I've learned a little about it, and stuttering is a complex neurological problem that's not well-understood and that varies greatly from child to child. Stammering, I think, is just repeating yourself a few times.
Katrina has developed a big case of the stammers in the past few days. She expresses herself clearly and has no trouble getting words out, but she repeats her first word numerous times: "I I I I I I I want to climb up on the chair!" It's like she doesn't want to lose the floor or something. As if we could ignore her! I don't think this is a problem. It just sounds sort of silly.
2/1/09
Anyway, in some-or-other episode of one of his TV shows, he clarified that he doesn't stutter, he-he-he stammers. Having a friend with a son who stutters, I've learned a little about it, and stuttering is a complex neurological problem that's not well-understood and that varies greatly from child to child. Stammering, I think, is just repeating yourself a few times.
Katrina has developed a big case of the stammers in the past few days. She expresses herself clearly and has no trouble getting words out, but she repeats her first word numerous times: "I I I I I I I want to climb up on the chair!" It's like she doesn't want to lose the floor or something. As if we could ignore her! I don't think this is a problem. It just sounds sort of silly.
2/1/09
Saturday, January 31, 2009
1/31/09 The Walk
I've grown to like going nowhere on Saturday mornings. Dave takes Gabriel to his piano lesson, so I hang around with Julian and Katrina and give them much-needed home downtime. I'm not completely idle; I get laundry done and take care of various things around the house, but nothing so encompassing that I can't spend time with the younger two.
Today it was such a nice day I decided to walk to a mailbox with Katrina. Sounds minor, certainly not worth a blog post, but I rarely have opportunities to just walk around with the kids, let alone with just Katrina. If we're walking somewhere with the boys, Katrina goes in the stroller (which she loves).
She was all for the idea of a walk, grabbed her favorite Kitty-Kat, informed me pointedly that it was time to zip her jacket, and we went out. She held my hand the whole time, kept moving, and followed my instructions, making it very logistically easy. Not all two-year-olds are so cooperative, but Katrina's not one of those adventurous gotta-go-everywhere sort of toddlers. She was so fun, talking the whole time, repeating anything I pointed out, observing things around her at every new view. Having her with me invited smiles and waves from every passerby, partly because I was walking so slowly, but also in no small part because how cute is a little toddler walking along so happily, smiling and chatting, clutching a kitty toy?
We went the long way around and got home before it got old for her, but I think she could have gone on a lot longer.
I met two neighbors today, in separate conversations, and had a nice time talking with both of them. I always feel so bad explaining that we don't really live here, we're moving out soon, just as we're starting to dig in. Everyone I talk to around here really likes living here. They have deeper reasons for being here than primarily the school district's test scores, as is often the case in our "real" neighborhood.
It was nice spending the day walking with Katrina and chatting with neighbors, instead of working on remodeling stuff. With a headache, a back that's still shaky from my near miss last weekend (half an hour of sitting puts my feet and lower legs into total pins-and-needles), and recovering from a nasty leg cramp on Friday, I took a nap this afternoon. But I woke up in the middle of it realizing that the painters had missed a set of doors.
1/31/09
Friday, January 30, 2009
1/30/09 7!
It's Gabriel's birthday today! 7. Seven!
We did a little family celebration this evening, but his real party is next week, a small affair with the few friends I could wrest out of him to invite. (Which didn't include some kids I know he plays with, he was very strange about inviting people.)
I didn't do an in-class celebration for him, and felt bad about it, but just how many times do I have to do the birthday thing? Two is enough, I think. Still, I felt bad when he told me that the other kid in his class whose birthday was today had an in-class party.
I didn't even make his cake for tonight. Store-bought. Not that he minded.
Once again, the Happy Birthday singing with candles lit and lights out was marred by a furious fit by Katrina. "I WANT CAKE!!!" she demanded as she reached and grabbed for it, and put up a huge protest and cried and screamed. Geez, not even Gabriel did anything like that when he was her age!
Well, that fit was minor compared to the one she threw when she wanted a third helping of cake and ice cream and Mean Old Mom said no, it's time for baby to go to bed. She screamed and cried so hard that her face was swollen and red and she was shaking after the bath. I feel strongly about cake too, but really!
We opened gifts and talked about the boys' ages both being prime numbers (I've always found prime numbers a little spooky) and had a very nice birthday evening.
1/30/09
We did a little family celebration this evening, but his real party is next week, a small affair with the few friends I could wrest out of him to invite. (Which didn't include some kids I know he plays with, he was very strange about inviting people.)
I didn't do an in-class celebration for him, and felt bad about it, but just how many times do I have to do the birthday thing? Two is enough, I think. Still, I felt bad when he told me that the other kid in his class whose birthday was today had an in-class party.
I didn't even make his cake for tonight. Store-bought. Not that he minded.
Once again, the Happy Birthday singing with candles lit and lights out was marred by a furious fit by Katrina. "I WANT CAKE!!!" she demanded as she reached and grabbed for it, and put up a huge protest and cried and screamed. Geez, not even Gabriel did anything like that when he was her age!
Well, that fit was minor compared to the one she threw when she wanted a third helping of cake and ice cream and Mean Old Mom said no, it's time for baby to go to bed. She screamed and cried so hard that her face was swollen and red and she was shaking after the bath. I feel strongly about cake too, but really!
We opened gifts and talked about the boys' ages both being prime numbers (I've always found prime numbers a little spooky) and had a very nice birthday evening.
1/30/09
Thursday, January 29, 2009
1/29/09 Katrina at play
I shudder to jinx it, but yesterday's dinnertime tantrum was very short, and tonight's was non-existent! What a difference this makes to the entire family!
After dinner, Katrina totters off into the family room, and happily plays on her own while the rest of us are in the kitchen. I'm torn about that -- I wish I could see more of her, but it's just as well she's in a different room since the boys are impossible when she's around at dinner. They get up constantly to play with her, try to engage her in noisy obnoxious games, and just generally get distracted and rowdy. It's a fascinating dynamic, but really, we're trying to eat here.
Sometimes I leave dinner to go play with her, but "dinner" for me is prime-time; it's rare that I sit down. Most of "dinner" for me is spent zooming around the kitchen, trying to make headway on the mounds of chores to be done before I can get back to work sending remodeling-related emails ("who's buying the garbage disposal?") or researching, designing or shopping.
So I settle for listening to her from a distance. Sometimes she's silent for long stretches of time, other times she chatters happily or sings.
With the 3rd child, paranoia about eensy-teensy Lego pieces just isn't practical. She loves them.
Tonight she had to clear off this entire shelf of heavy toys, just to line up a set of cars. It's almost like she was playing House with them.
Remodeling pressure is reaching a fever pitch. Meltdown? How about a full-on breakdown? What's going to snap first, my back or my mind? It's a close call.
And this is with a project that's going extremely well, with a contractor we have complete faith in and are thrilled about. How often do you hear that!
Someday, soon, I'll be taking mornings off work to play with my feisty opinionated daughter, instead of finding light fixtures that will project over surface-mounted medicine cabinets. She's changing so fast....flickers of "little girl" are starting to surface through "toddler." "Old lady" is quickly taking me over.
1/29/09
After dinner, Katrina totters off into the family room, and happily plays on her own while the rest of us are in the kitchen. I'm torn about that -- I wish I could see more of her, but it's just as well she's in a different room since the boys are impossible when she's around at dinner. They get up constantly to play with her, try to engage her in noisy obnoxious games, and just generally get distracted and rowdy. It's a fascinating dynamic, but really, we're trying to eat here.
Sometimes I leave dinner to go play with her, but "dinner" for me is prime-time; it's rare that I sit down. Most of "dinner" for me is spent zooming around the kitchen, trying to make headway on the mounds of chores to be done before I can get back to work sending remodeling-related emails ("who's buying the garbage disposal?") or researching, designing or shopping.
So I settle for listening to her from a distance. Sometimes she's silent for long stretches of time, other times she chatters happily or sings.
With the 3rd child, paranoia about eensy-teensy Lego pieces just isn't practical. She loves them.
Tonight she had to clear off this entire shelf of heavy toys, just to line up a set of cars. It's almost like she was playing House with them.
Remodeling pressure is reaching a fever pitch. Meltdown? How about a full-on breakdown? What's going to snap first, my back or my mind? It's a close call.
And this is with a project that's going extremely well, with a contractor we have complete faith in and are thrilled about. How often do you hear that!
Someday, soon, I'll be taking mornings off work to play with my feisty opinionated daughter, instead of finding light fixtures that will project over surface-mounted medicine cabinets. She's changing so fast....flickers of "little girl" are starting to surface through "toddler." "Old lady" is quickly taking me over.
1/29/09
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
1/28/09 Animal Babies
Dave had a business dinner tonight, so I was on my own with all three.
When left to my own devices, I can run a super-tight ship. I had dinner done, cleaned up, lunches made, Gabriel's homework plus extras done, Gabriel's new daily chore (sweep the floor) done, a load of laundry, and everyone's clothes set out, and baths started before 8pm. Things were going well.
But my tight ship hit an iceberg right as it was time to read the boys a bedtime story. Julian burst into a crying whining fit about a book of his, called "Animal Babies," that Gabriel said he wanted to read for a bedtime story. "IT'S MINE! IT'S MY SECRET!!" he screamed.
On the whole, I have a "all books are shared" policy, partly on principle, and partly because it's not practical to get three copies of every book. But I recognize that books are often gifts, and kids have a very strong sense of ownership and possession, so I try to honor that too. I tried to tell Julian that it is his book, but if he doesn't want to share it, then he'll have to read it alone, and Gabriel and I would find another book. I tried soothing him by saying we'd read it together in my room, but he was beside himself. He was so out of control that I couldn't talk to him at all.
So I took Gabriel into the family room and he picked another book, and I tried to start it, but Julian was putting up such a racket, I finally made him sit outside until he stopped screaming. "IT'S MY SECRET LEARNING! IT'S MY BOOK!!" he'd cry in frustration and throw himself on the floor.
Finally he let me get a word in edgewise and I offered him the ultimatum again: we read Animal Babies together now in the boys' room, or I read a book to Gabriel outside the room. Julian "agreed," if snapping a loud "Oh-KAAY!!!!" counts.
Meantime, Gabriel was being angelic, being very cooperative and agreeable about all these changes. He happily picked another book, and read it on his own while I was dealing with Julian, until finally I called him into his room and said we'd read Animal Babies all together.
I sat down and opened the book, and Gabriel said, "Yay! I want to learn about animal babies!" in a light-hearted cheerful voice.
Too light-hearted. Since when did Gabriel have such an interest in animal babies?
I knew right then: I'd been suckered into a power struggle between them, and used as an ignorant battering ram. This was Gabriel's war, a chosen conflict, a demonstration of power. He wanted to win a possession battle, to force Julian to give up something that Julian felt was his. Julian usually wouldn't mind sharing a book, but it had become a point of contention between them, and I got roped into it. Gabriel was only rubbing it in with his seemingly innocent desire to "learn" about animal babies. That was a hot-button word for Julian, as the boys often compete about who knows more about things.
Julian calmed down enough to read the book, and I invited him into my lap and held him close while we read it. But he broke down into soft tears, frustrated at his loss, both of the competition that I played into, and the one-up-ness he must have felt he got from the book.
I read another book too, then spent a few minutes alone with Julian, holding him and telling him that knowledge is something that everyone shares -- and to hide his book if he really doesn't want to share it. I felt bad, I really understood how he felt now that I knew what was going on. And I'm keenly aware that his childhood will always be marked by being in his brother's powerful shadow.
But don't feel too sorry for Julian. He was already in trouble for taking Katrina's beloved Mimi and hiding it from her.
1/28/09
When left to my own devices, I can run a super-tight ship. I had dinner done, cleaned up, lunches made, Gabriel's homework plus extras done, Gabriel's new daily chore (sweep the floor) done, a load of laundry, and everyone's clothes set out, and baths started before 8pm. Things were going well.
But my tight ship hit an iceberg right as it was time to read the boys a bedtime story. Julian burst into a crying whining fit about a book of his, called "Animal Babies," that Gabriel said he wanted to read for a bedtime story. "IT'S MINE! IT'S MY SECRET!!" he screamed.
On the whole, I have a "all books are shared" policy, partly on principle, and partly because it's not practical to get three copies of every book. But I recognize that books are often gifts, and kids have a very strong sense of ownership and possession, so I try to honor that too. I tried to tell Julian that it is his book, but if he doesn't want to share it, then he'll have to read it alone, and Gabriel and I would find another book. I tried soothing him by saying we'd read it together in my room, but he was beside himself. He was so out of control that I couldn't talk to him at all.
So I took Gabriel into the family room and he picked another book, and I tried to start it, but Julian was putting up such a racket, I finally made him sit outside until he stopped screaming. "IT'S MY SECRET LEARNING! IT'S MY BOOK!!" he'd cry in frustration and throw himself on the floor.
Finally he let me get a word in edgewise and I offered him the ultimatum again: we read Animal Babies together now in the boys' room, or I read a book to Gabriel outside the room. Julian "agreed," if snapping a loud "Oh-KAAY!!!!" counts.
Meantime, Gabriel was being angelic, being very cooperative and agreeable about all these changes. He happily picked another book, and read it on his own while I was dealing with Julian, until finally I called him into his room and said we'd read Animal Babies all together.
I sat down and opened the book, and Gabriel said, "Yay! I want to learn about animal babies!" in a light-hearted cheerful voice.
Too light-hearted. Since when did Gabriel have such an interest in animal babies?
I knew right then: I'd been suckered into a power struggle between them, and used as an ignorant battering ram. This was Gabriel's war, a chosen conflict, a demonstration of power. He wanted to win a possession battle, to force Julian to give up something that Julian felt was his. Julian usually wouldn't mind sharing a book, but it had become a point of contention between them, and I got roped into it. Gabriel was only rubbing it in with his seemingly innocent desire to "learn" about animal babies. That was a hot-button word for Julian, as the boys often compete about who knows more about things.
Julian calmed down enough to read the book, and I invited him into my lap and held him close while we read it. But he broke down into soft tears, frustrated at his loss, both of the competition that I played into, and the one-up-ness he must have felt he got from the book.
I read another book too, then spent a few minutes alone with Julian, holding him and telling him that knowledge is something that everyone shares -- and to hide his book if he really doesn't want to share it. I felt bad, I really understood how he felt now that I knew what was going on. And I'm keenly aware that his childhood will always be marked by being in his brother's powerful shadow.
But don't feel too sorry for Julian. He was already in trouble for taking Katrina's beloved Mimi and hiding it from her.
1/28/09
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
1/27/09 The Countess
This morning as I was dressing Katrina, she exclaimed, "Look! A Seven! A Seven!" pointing to, of all things, a folded-up set of number sheets that we got Gabriel 3 years ago for night-training. Gabriel was so into numbers that the idea was that he wouldn't want to pee on them. That flopped, of course. (I'm happy to report that both boys have been dry for 3 straight mornings without being woken up!)
Dave and I have both noticed independently how attracted Katrina is to numbers. She frequently points them out, says she's counting (not clear she really is counting), and recites them into the teens, semi-correctly. Then yesterday when Dave picked up Katrina from Tonya's, Tonya told Dave that it was remarkable how much like Gabriel she is -- including her affinity for numbers. Outside confirmation -- it's not just proud-parent rose-colored glasses.
Interesting! Ironically, if I were a first-time parent, I'd say her attraction to numbers doesn't mean much, kids go in and out of phases. But I've seen how an early interest can persist -- Gabriel's interest in numbers never faded, and Julian is still very verbal and articulate and talkative. Julian never showed a preference for numbers; indeed he's never really had any persistent strength or weakness (early language and reading yes, but those are transitory), he's always been very well-rounded.
With three kids, I'd expect three very different experiences. But while of course all three of our children are very different, the similarities in raising Katrina and Gabriel are striking. Thank goodness Julian showed me that not all toddlerhoods are fraught with tantrums!
A fascinating road is unfolding in front of me, seeing how alike my firstborn and lastborn are, while increasing my gratitude and awe for my slightly uniquer middleborn.
1/27/09
Dave and I have both noticed independently how attracted Katrina is to numbers. She frequently points them out, says she's counting (not clear she really is counting), and recites them into the teens, semi-correctly. Then yesterday when Dave picked up Katrina from Tonya's, Tonya told Dave that it was remarkable how much like Gabriel she is -- including her affinity for numbers. Outside confirmation -- it's not just proud-parent rose-colored glasses.
Interesting! Ironically, if I were a first-time parent, I'd say her attraction to numbers doesn't mean much, kids go in and out of phases. But I've seen how an early interest can persist -- Gabriel's interest in numbers never faded, and Julian is still very verbal and articulate and talkative. Julian never showed a preference for numbers; indeed he's never really had any persistent strength or weakness (early language and reading yes, but those are transitory), he's always been very well-rounded.
With three kids, I'd expect three very different experiences. But while of course all three of our children are very different, the similarities in raising Katrina and Gabriel are striking. Thank goodness Julian showed me that not all toddlerhoods are fraught with tantrums!
A fascinating road is unfolding in front of me, seeing how alike my firstborn and lastborn are, while increasing my gratitude and awe for my slightly uniquer middleborn.
1/27/09
Monday, January 26, 2009
1/26/09 Baby, I was born to run
Today was it. Kindergarten Registration Packet Pickup Day.
I tossed and turned all night, and then anxiously drove to school just after 7am. Would I find a mob? Would I find I'd squandered a lot of brown hair? The answer was something inbetween. This was the line at 7:15am.
(This is just to pick up a numbered registration packet, which establishes your priority for a spot at this school.)
By 8:30, the line had moved, and was much longer. This photo doesn't show it, but the line U's around behind the building. There were about 60 people by then.
More arrived by the time the office opened, for about 80 total. With at least 120 spots for kindergarten at the school, I probably could have arrived at 9am and still been assured a spot. Even if not, people move, so we still probably could have gotten in eventually. But while the risk was low, the consequence was drastic, so it was well worth the peace of mind to arrive early enough. Julian is #13.
I was especially surprised to see that the line was mostly Dads! They explained that this was easier than being at home taking care of the kids.
I chatted with six Dads at various times on the line, and all six planned to enter the lottery for the alternative school Faria, which heavily emphasizes academics. I assured them that first-graders here get plenty of homework, and offered my opinion that the difference between this school's test scores versus Faria's test scores made little difference in the child's ultimate outcome. The biggest factor in their success now is that the teacher has a high standard of pupils -- most come from highly educated, stable two-parent families, all have access to top health care, arrive at school well-fed and clothed, all were well-prepared in preschool, none have emotional or discipline issues (Gabriel notwithstanding). I was surprised that they all readily agreed. Not that that dissuaded them. Those test scores are some powerful Kool-Aid.
My Mom friends report that one other school had a major line-wait situation, two others had some lines; most had none at all.
Still, the district deserves at least a letter to complain about putting parents through this more than once. There is no priority for families with siblings enrolled at the "regular" schools, but clearly they get the concept since they do offer sibling priority for the alternative schools (including Faria). So I get to do this again in two years. Springsteen tickets, anyone?
1/26/09
I tossed and turned all night, and then anxiously drove to school just after 7am. Would I find a mob? Would I find I'd squandered a lot of brown hair? The answer was something inbetween. This was the line at 7:15am.
(This is just to pick up a numbered registration packet, which establishes your priority for a spot at this school.)
By 8:30, the line had moved, and was much longer. This photo doesn't show it, but the line U's around behind the building. There were about 60 people by then.
More arrived by the time the office opened, for about 80 total. With at least 120 spots for kindergarten at the school, I probably could have arrived at 9am and still been assured a spot. Even if not, people move, so we still probably could have gotten in eventually. But while the risk was low, the consequence was drastic, so it was well worth the peace of mind to arrive early enough. Julian is #13.
I was especially surprised to see that the line was mostly Dads! They explained that this was easier than being at home taking care of the kids.
I chatted with six Dads at various times on the line, and all six planned to enter the lottery for the alternative school Faria, which heavily emphasizes academics. I assured them that first-graders here get plenty of homework, and offered my opinion that the difference between this school's test scores versus Faria's test scores made little difference in the child's ultimate outcome. The biggest factor in their success now is that the teacher has a high standard of pupils -- most come from highly educated, stable two-parent families, all have access to top health care, arrive at school well-fed and clothed, all were well-prepared in preschool, none have emotional or discipline issues (Gabriel notwithstanding). I was surprised that they all readily agreed. Not that that dissuaded them. Those test scores are some powerful Kool-Aid.
My Mom friends report that one other school had a major line-wait situation, two others had some lines; most had none at all.
Still, the district deserves at least a letter to complain about putting parents through this more than once. There is no priority for families with siblings enrolled at the "regular" schools, but clearly they get the concept since they do offer sibling priority for the alternative schools (including Faria). So I get to do this again in two years. Springsteen tickets, anyone?
1/26/09
Sunday, January 25, 2009
1/25/09 Teeter Toddler
Today our main mission was to go to the house for some measuring and to look for packages that arrived. It's still really muddy back there after recent rains, and no landscaping to help it drain. Gabriel helped Dave with the hose to rinse off a muddy walkway and shoes.
The kids had a great time playing on the stepstones in the front yard, which were placed hurriedly by the previous owners of our house right before they sold it to us. Now, nearly 10 years later, that temporary measure is still there. We don't move fast.
Katrina continues to impress me with her instability and lack of balance. Are we related? Even I'm not this clumsy....oh wait....yeah, I am.
She will step down very short steps now without climbing, sometimes. It's more fun to follow someone and make it a game though.
Fun's over! Time for the whole family to go to a lighting store. Whee.
We had a plan though: two cars, we make some final decisions, Dave takes the bunch home before the store pleads with us to go, and I stay behind to do the painful ordering part. I was expecting mayhem on a Sunday afternoon, but it was eerily dead.
One kind saleslady amused herself by setting up our little clan with crayons and paper, and they had a great time. Katrina really took to her, talking and pointing things out that she'd drawn.
We actually escaped with a compliment about how well-behaved our kids were!!!
It was so funny when we first arrived, and the lady smiled at her, and Katrina put her head down and finger in her mouth, with a pout. "Aww, shy, is she?" Yeah, shy, that's Katrina all right. It was more like a passive-aggressive gesture of resistance, which turned to confident friendliness moments later.
The same lady asked me if it was different having a girl after two boys -- turns out she has a 5-year-old boy and 3-year-old girl. I really have a hard time agreeing with that -- it is different, but moreso because of personality than gender. Katrina does girl-things, but the things about her that dominate my experience with her aren't really gender-specific. She's very verbal and chatty, I guess that's more of a girl thing (it still shocks me to think that at 2-1/4, Gabriel was just just barely starting to say a few words). Julian's language was at least as good, but he didn't yak quite the same way. She likes to wrap stuffed animals in blankets or diapers sometimes, the boys never did that (other than Gabriel once trying to nurse his teddy bear). Ahhh, I just hit upon it: BOSSY. Katrina orders everyone around to the point of rudeness. That's different.
Today after her nap, I held her for a few minutes -- or rather, she stood there and allowed me to put my arms around her. I had something on the stove, so I stayed as long as I could, but then moved away, and to my surprise, she put her arm out around my neck, as if to hold me there. I gladly stayed, but then I felt her trembling slightly, as she often does just after waking up. She didn't want me there for comfort, she needed a leaning post! Well, I'll take it. What are moms for, if not to help steady their child?
1/25/09
The kids had a great time playing on the stepstones in the front yard, which were placed hurriedly by the previous owners of our house right before they sold it to us. Now, nearly 10 years later, that temporary measure is still there. We don't move fast.
Katrina continues to impress me with her instability and lack of balance. Are we related? Even I'm not this clumsy....oh wait....yeah, I am.
She will step down very short steps now without climbing, sometimes. It's more fun to follow someone and make it a game though.
Fun's over! Time for the whole family to go to a lighting store. Whee.
We had a plan though: two cars, we make some final decisions, Dave takes the bunch home before the store pleads with us to go, and I stay behind to do the painful ordering part. I was expecting mayhem on a Sunday afternoon, but it was eerily dead.
One kind saleslady amused herself by setting up our little clan with crayons and paper, and they had a great time. Katrina really took to her, talking and pointing things out that she'd drawn.
We actually escaped with a compliment about how well-behaved our kids were!!!
It was so funny when we first arrived, and the lady smiled at her, and Katrina put her head down and finger in her mouth, with a pout. "Aww, shy, is she?" Yeah, shy, that's Katrina all right. It was more like a passive-aggressive gesture of resistance, which turned to confident friendliness moments later.
The same lady asked me if it was different having a girl after two boys -- turns out she has a 5-year-old boy and 3-year-old girl. I really have a hard time agreeing with that -- it is different, but moreso because of personality than gender. Katrina does girl-things, but the things about her that dominate my experience with her aren't really gender-specific. She's very verbal and chatty, I guess that's more of a girl thing (it still shocks me to think that at 2-1/4, Gabriel was just just barely starting to say a few words). Julian's language was at least as good, but he didn't yak quite the same way. She likes to wrap stuffed animals in blankets or diapers sometimes, the boys never did that (other than Gabriel once trying to nurse his teddy bear). Ahhh, I just hit upon it: BOSSY. Katrina orders everyone around to the point of rudeness. That's different.
Today after her nap, I held her for a few minutes -- or rather, she stood there and allowed me to put my arms around her. I had something on the stove, so I stayed as long as I could, but then moved away, and to my surprise, she put her arm out around my neck, as if to hold me there. I gladly stayed, but then I felt her trembling slightly, as she often does just after waking up. She didn't want me there for comfort, she needed a leaning post! Well, I'll take it. What are moms for, if not to help steady their child?
1/25/09
Saturday, January 24, 2009
1/24/09 Sour Lemons
This morning as I was getting dressed, I idly glanced out the window into the backyard, a view I don't look at often -- the window is high and the shades are hard to use so are usually mostly closed. I was stunned to see: lemons! There's been a lemon tree in a corner of our backyard, right next to the strawberries, all this time! They're not Meyers, but they're sweet and fragrant. I've really missed having fresh lemons at the ready. It stings to have to buy lemons in California.
It was a cloudy, rainy day, so naturally I used this surprise as an excuse for a photo-op.
It's actually three lemon trees, each with a trunk barely an inch in diameter -- but all three are bearing lemons. On top of it, our next-door neighbor's orange tree is spilling a little branch loaded with oranges on our side of the fence. A citrus windfall!
Random photos.
I dodged a bullet with my back, sort of. Whatever popped didn't bring me down entirely, so I've been able to stand mostly straight and avoid all the secondary problems of hunching over. But, there are still many consequences: the return of the foot-buzzing from sitting, difficulty lifting things from the floor, discomfort from too much sitting or standing. Also, if I bend my head too far forward, like if I slouch on the couch or sneeze, I can feel a sharp twinge my lower back, a very very strange sensation.
I had a huge agenda for the weekend, hoping to push through some of the remaining last remodeling decisions and ordering, and address some new problems. I did a lot online (including finalizing the calendars!), but my back reached a hard limit and I had to lie down. Combined with a rainy day, this turned into a serious veg session in front of the TV, for which I was grateful when Julian joined me. Such a cuddlebug, that one. How apt: PBS was airing a bunch of home improvement shows. Katrina and Gabriel joined for the last show, and I liked having a few terrific excuses to hang around and be surrounded by my children.
My back was pressed into service again for dinner-making and serving and cleaning up, which was fine. I can run around the kitchen longer than I can sit upright in a chair, but lying down is the only way to take all pressure off my back. It's got to be better fast, there is no room right now for a debilitating injury. At least I don't have to make a trip to the store for lemons.
1/24/09
It was a cloudy, rainy day, so naturally I used this surprise as an excuse for a photo-op.
It's actually three lemon trees, each with a trunk barely an inch in diameter -- but all three are bearing lemons. On top of it, our next-door neighbor's orange tree is spilling a little branch loaded with oranges on our side of the fence. A citrus windfall!
Random photos.
I dodged a bullet with my back, sort of. Whatever popped didn't bring me down entirely, so I've been able to stand mostly straight and avoid all the secondary problems of hunching over. But, there are still many consequences: the return of the foot-buzzing from sitting, difficulty lifting things from the floor, discomfort from too much sitting or standing. Also, if I bend my head too far forward, like if I slouch on the couch or sneeze, I can feel a sharp twinge my lower back, a very very strange sensation.
I had a huge agenda for the weekend, hoping to push through some of the remaining last remodeling decisions and ordering, and address some new problems. I did a lot online (including finalizing the calendars!), but my back reached a hard limit and I had to lie down. Combined with a rainy day, this turned into a serious veg session in front of the TV, for which I was grateful when Julian joined me. Such a cuddlebug, that one. How apt: PBS was airing a bunch of home improvement shows. Katrina and Gabriel joined for the last show, and I liked having a few terrific excuses to hang around and be surrounded by my children.
My back was pressed into service again for dinner-making and serving and cleaning up, which was fine. I can run around the kitchen longer than I can sit upright in a chair, but lying down is the only way to take all pressure off my back. It's got to be better fast, there is no room right now for a debilitating injury. At least I don't have to make a trip to the store for lemons.
1/24/09
Friday, January 23, 2009
1/23/09 Citizen Cane
Much went right today relating to the remodel, capping off a stressful week. Things "going right" means that the things that went wrong aren't major....a medicine cabinet too high, another too low.
I even managed to pull off a take-out dinner, and Katrina's dinnertime tantrum was cut short by a rare event: she ate some dinner! But my relief at this was short-lived. As I went to reach for a bowl, I could feel a swell of pain in my lower back. A thin strip, not intense, but clear, distinct and persistent. It immediately informed me that I am not to stand straight for a few days.
1/23/09
I even managed to pull off a take-out dinner, and Katrina's dinnertime tantrum was cut short by a rare event: she ate some dinner! But my relief at this was short-lived. As I went to reach for a bowl, I could feel a swell of pain in my lower back. A thin strip, not intense, but clear, distinct and persistent. It immediately informed me that I am not to stand straight for a few days.
1/23/09
Thursday, January 22, 2009
1/22/09 Calendar Girl
As most of you know, I do an annual calendar with month-appropriate photos of the kids. This year, I got behind, so the calendar will go February-January instead of January-December. I'm mostly done with it, but I need calendar-worthy photos for the January 2010 page. Of course, they have to be actually taken in January 2009.
But I'm having trouble getting calendar-worthy photos. The biggest challenge is getting all three in one photo -- or even two. No, actually, the biggest challenge is that Katrina gets all mad if I try to take pictures; she turns away, throws a fit, and does everything she can to ruin the picture. Sitting and posing with her brothers is out of the question.
Fortunately, we're living under the flight path for a military airfield, and from time to time we get some very cool low-flying aircraft right over our house. (Those dual-rotor helicopters flying in formation rattle the glasses off the shelves though!) And two C-130s presented themselves just as I was getting Katrina out of the car, in the most ideal lighting my amateur photographer side can recognize -- a bright mottled sky with an indirect glow from sun setting behind patchy clouds.
Katrina still wouldn't cooperate exactly, but she did let me hold her and then attempt to take photos with my arm outstretched, as she eagerly scanned the sky for more planes. Most photos were out of focus, or didn't get her face square on, like this:
The best ones were too close and distort her face.
But this may have to do. She reminds me a little of her cousin in this photo, with a slightly impish expression.
Full-on impish, determined again to prevent timely publication of my calendar.
I wish this were the most stressful event today. We discovered that our beautiful new dining room door (with a funky, unusual, and necessary operable sidelight), which took over 10 weeks to order, had been installed....and it's hung wrong from the factory. When you enter through the door, you walk right into a wall instead of into the room. Or, exiting the room, you have to put your back against the wall to open it. The door's hinges should be on the right in this photo, not on the left.
From the outside.
It's not our mistake, but of course, we end up paying for it in numerous ways. I'm really bummed. The missed opportunity to see something beautiful and new and fabulous installed today is huge.
Then, our new entertainment area has a wide wooden tabletop that should be gorgeous.
But a closer look shows that it's trimmed so poorly that I seriously could have done a better job myself. I'd never turn over an edging job through which you can see daylight!
Or these nasty, uneven saw cuts. Even leaving behind pencil marks is tacky.
Again, not our mistake -- but definitely our problem in one way or another.
Seems I'm not the only one concerned about obtaining a spot at our neighborhood school for my 2009 kindergartner. I'm not planning to arrive at 5am as some are, but I am preparing myself for a line-wait situation. The tiniest chance of Julian having to go to a different school than Gabriel is unthinkable. Who knew kindergarten registration would turn into a competitive sport?
All the new bad economic news doesn't improve matters. Unemployment up. Profits down. Housing prices way down. Stocks down. Everything down, down, down. Can't this all just wait until we move back home? I have a calendar to publish!
1/22/09
But I'm having trouble getting calendar-worthy photos. The biggest challenge is getting all three in one photo -- or even two. No, actually, the biggest challenge is that Katrina gets all mad if I try to take pictures; she turns away, throws a fit, and does everything she can to ruin the picture. Sitting and posing with her brothers is out of the question.
Fortunately, we're living under the flight path for a military airfield, and from time to time we get some very cool low-flying aircraft right over our house. (Those dual-rotor helicopters flying in formation rattle the glasses off the shelves though!) And two C-130s presented themselves just as I was getting Katrina out of the car, in the most ideal lighting my amateur photographer side can recognize -- a bright mottled sky with an indirect glow from sun setting behind patchy clouds.
Katrina still wouldn't cooperate exactly, but she did let me hold her and then attempt to take photos with my arm outstretched, as she eagerly scanned the sky for more planes. Most photos were out of focus, or didn't get her face square on, like this:
The best ones were too close and distort her face.
But this may have to do. She reminds me a little of her cousin in this photo, with a slightly impish expression.
Full-on impish, determined again to prevent timely publication of my calendar.
I wish this were the most stressful event today. We discovered that our beautiful new dining room door (with a funky, unusual, and necessary operable sidelight), which took over 10 weeks to order, had been installed....and it's hung wrong from the factory. When you enter through the door, you walk right into a wall instead of into the room. Or, exiting the room, you have to put your back against the wall to open it. The door's hinges should be on the right in this photo, not on the left.
From the outside.
It's not our mistake, but of course, we end up paying for it in numerous ways. I'm really bummed. The missed opportunity to see something beautiful and new and fabulous installed today is huge.
Then, our new entertainment area has a wide wooden tabletop that should be gorgeous.
But a closer look shows that it's trimmed so poorly that I seriously could have done a better job myself. I'd never turn over an edging job through which you can see daylight!
Or these nasty, uneven saw cuts. Even leaving behind pencil marks is tacky.
Again, not our mistake -- but definitely our problem in one way or another.
Seems I'm not the only one concerned about obtaining a spot at our neighborhood school for my 2009 kindergartner. I'm not planning to arrive at 5am as some are, but I am preparing myself for a line-wait situation. The tiniest chance of Julian having to go to a different school than Gabriel is unthinkable. Who knew kindergarten registration would turn into a competitive sport?
All the new bad economic news doesn't improve matters. Unemployment up. Profits down. Housing prices way down. Stocks down. Everything down, down, down. Can't this all just wait until we move back home? I have a calendar to publish!
1/22/09
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
1/21/09 Can't stand the heat
A few nights ago, a miraculous thing occurred...I sat down to dinner and conversed with my family for over 10 minutes, while Katrina happily played. I felt light-hearted, relaxed, happy to chat over dinner with my children.
It gave me a tiny taste of how easy and joyous life could be, what it would be like without the nightly agony of Katrina's dinnertime tantrum.
I've also grown to like cooking. I like to muse on the drive home about what fresh ingredients I have, what recipe I haven't made for a while, what recipe I'd like to try again and do a little differently. Maybe I'll even stage a baking project as I'm preparing dinner, bringing ingredients up to room temperature or measuring dry ingredients. I like thinking about this during my hour-plus of driving around and picking up kids. It's a nice way to cap off the day.
Except for:
KATRINA.
She completely disrupts these ideas, and turns what should be a busy, but homey time into a tense, frustrating ordeal. I grimace the instant she enters the kitchen, because after that, it's almost nonstop tantrum until she demands to get down.
"I WANT TO CLIMB UP!"
"I scare-me!"
"I want snap!"
"NO SNAP!"
"I want TRAY!"
"NO TRAY, I do it my-SEFF!"
"I want water!"
"I want orange juice!"
"I want Shredded Spoonfuls!"
(Mean Old MOM: I won't give her breakfast food or treats for dinner)
"I want milk!"
"I want string cheese!"
"I don't want string cheese!"
"NO STRING CHEESE!"
"I want pasta!"
"NO PASTA!"
"I want rice!"
"NO RICE!"
"I want peas!"
"NO PEAS!"
"I want 'ta-toes!"
"NO TA-TOES!"
"I want fish bib!"
"NO fish bib -- I want aminal bib!"
"NO aminal bib -- I want boo bib!"
"I want milk in a red cup!"
"NO milk in a red cup!"
"I want milk in a train cup!"
"NO milk in a train cup!"
"I want Gabriel cup!"
"NO milk in a Gabriel cup!"
"I want blue spoon!"
"I want aminal spoon!"
"I want puh-tle (purple) spoon!"
"NO BLUE SPOON!"
"NO AMINAL SPOON!"
"NO PUH-TLE SPOON!"
"I want Spoonfuls!"
"I want...I want...I want...WAAAAAAHHHHH!"
Pretty much every night.
OK, it's easy for you to think, "Well, don't give in to her, and she won't have these tantrums." Oh YEAH?! Hah! She WANTS tantrums! Indeed, if I overact and pretend as though some or other demand is serious -- that is, not resisting her -- it can calm her for the moment. If I refuse to get her such-and-such item, the situation escalates to the point where she is completely out of control, she won't eat a bite, and the tantrum never ends. And no amount of standing up to her will affect tomorrow. Giving in is the easiest response (doesn't work). Saying NO is the next-hardest response (doesn't work). Ignoring is the next-hardest response (doesn't work). Finding ways around the tantrum, circumventing it, removing its bases -- much, much harder, and often impossible. Also doesn't work.
Gabriel had worse tantrums overall, but he wasn't as predictably disagreeable as she is. It's almost inevitable that at dinnertime, she's going to throw a major, constant fit until she's had enough and is ready to get down. Maybe if I were willing to let her live on Clifford Crunch, I could avoid it, but I'm not ready to go there. Yet. It's bad enough that I finally compromise and let her have yogurt for dinner -- TJ's premixed lemon, which is so sweet she thinks it's a treat. She needs to learn to eat real food, but BELIEVE ME, she's some combination of too young and too dedicated to conflict for me to attempt the "if she's hungry enough she'll eat" route. I'm completely confident that the rest of the family will suffer far, far more than she will.
Someday, my evenings won't be ruled by a demanding, opinionated, controlling, impossible toddler. Who, while she's angellicaly sleeping, clutching her beloved Kitty-Kat, I love dearly.
Please, get me out of the kitchen.
1/21/09
It gave me a tiny taste of how easy and joyous life could be, what it would be like without the nightly agony of Katrina's dinnertime tantrum.
I've also grown to like cooking. I like to muse on the drive home about what fresh ingredients I have, what recipe I haven't made for a while, what recipe I'd like to try again and do a little differently. Maybe I'll even stage a baking project as I'm preparing dinner, bringing ingredients up to room temperature or measuring dry ingredients. I like thinking about this during my hour-plus of driving around and picking up kids. It's a nice way to cap off the day.
Except for:
KATRINA.
She completely disrupts these ideas, and turns what should be a busy, but homey time into a tense, frustrating ordeal. I grimace the instant she enters the kitchen, because after that, it's almost nonstop tantrum until she demands to get down.
"I WANT TO CLIMB UP!"
"I scare-me!"
"I want snap!"
"NO SNAP!"
"I want TRAY!"
"NO TRAY, I do it my-SEFF!"
"I want water!"
"I want orange juice!"
"I want Shredded Spoonfuls!"
(Mean Old MOM: I won't give her breakfast food or treats for dinner)
"I want milk!"
"I want string cheese!"
"I don't want string cheese!"
"NO STRING CHEESE!"
"I want pasta!"
"NO PASTA!"
"I want rice!"
"NO RICE!"
"I want peas!"
"NO PEAS!"
"I want 'ta-toes!"
"NO TA-TOES!"
"I want fish bib!"
"NO fish bib -- I want aminal bib!"
"NO aminal bib -- I want boo bib!"
"I want milk in a red cup!"
"NO milk in a red cup!"
"I want milk in a train cup!"
"NO milk in a train cup!"
"I want Gabriel cup!"
"NO milk in a Gabriel cup!"
"I want blue spoon!"
"I want aminal spoon!"
"I want puh-tle (purple) spoon!"
"NO BLUE SPOON!"
"NO AMINAL SPOON!"
"NO PUH-TLE SPOON!"
"I want Spoonfuls!"
"I want...I want...I want...WAAAAAAHHHHH!"
Pretty much every night.
OK, it's easy for you to think, "Well, don't give in to her, and she won't have these tantrums." Oh YEAH?! Hah! She WANTS tantrums! Indeed, if I overact and pretend as though some or other demand is serious -- that is, not resisting her -- it can calm her for the moment. If I refuse to get her such-and-such item, the situation escalates to the point where she is completely out of control, she won't eat a bite, and the tantrum never ends. And no amount of standing up to her will affect tomorrow. Giving in is the easiest response (doesn't work). Saying NO is the next-hardest response (doesn't work). Ignoring is the next-hardest response (doesn't work). Finding ways around the tantrum, circumventing it, removing its bases -- much, much harder, and often impossible. Also doesn't work.
Gabriel had worse tantrums overall, but he wasn't as predictably disagreeable as she is. It's almost inevitable that at dinnertime, she's going to throw a major, constant fit until she's had enough and is ready to get down. Maybe if I were willing to let her live on Clifford Crunch, I could avoid it, but I'm not ready to go there. Yet. It's bad enough that I finally compromise and let her have yogurt for dinner -- TJ's premixed lemon, which is so sweet she thinks it's a treat. She needs to learn to eat real food, but BELIEVE ME, she's some combination of too young and too dedicated to conflict for me to attempt the "if she's hungry enough she'll eat" route. I'm completely confident that the rest of the family will suffer far, far more than she will.
Someday, my evenings won't be ruled by a demanding, opinionated, controlling, impossible toddler. Who, while she's angellicaly sleeping, clutching her beloved Kitty-Kat, I love dearly.
Please, get me out of the kitchen.
1/21/09
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
1/20/09 Absolute time
I'm sure I'm not the only one who finds that herding two young children out the door to get somewhere on time -- like school -- is utterly maddening. I was going to say "an exercise in patience" but I am far, far beyond patience. No exercise here.
One thing that's been working a little better, for some things, is to give the boys a specific time -- an absolute time, instead of a relative one. Instead of "five more minutes!" it works better to say "at 7:45 it's bathtime!"
Julian can read a digital clock. but he can't do "clock math," like understanding that 6:51 is after 6:50. Or if he does, he doesn't act on it. Gabriel, on the other hand, been adding and subtracting times for many years now, and has a very solid understanding that 6:52 is 7 minutes after 6:45...but he still can't judge how long 7 minutes is.
(Indeed, it's hard for anyone. I read once that adults are pretty good at guessing how long they've been waiting on line for up to about 5 minutes, after that, their judgment of wait time becomes vastly distorted. I thought about that as I was stuck at an intersection at First Street this afternoon, watching light-rail train after light-rail train interrupt my turn at a green. A clock revealed that it was "only" 4 minutes, but it felt like 40.)
So to move the mornings along, I've been telling them, "At 7:45 I take the bowls away, so if you want to eat breakfast, do it NOW." Before you wince at my cruelty, bear in mind that I tell them this at around 7:20 -- they have plenty of time to eat a bowl of cereal if they don't putz around.
Tonight, I was delighted at how quickly and efficiently they whizzed through the bath-pajama process when I stumbled across the (incredibly obvious) new policy that any ice cream that was earned gets doled out after bath. TIMED ice cream: "At 8:05 the bowls go out...and I put them away at 8:10!" Who knew those boys could get through bath and pajamas in less than 40 minutes and without any yelling!
Katrina, for all her faults, isn't a time liability yet. I think I'd trade her nightly dinnertime tantrum (still in full force) for some morningtime putziness, but something tells me I'll regret that wish. She's an expert in taking same-old same-old problems to new heights. But she loves pointing out the numbers on clocks.
1/20/09
One thing that's been working a little better, for some things, is to give the boys a specific time -- an absolute time, instead of a relative one. Instead of "five more minutes!" it works better to say "at 7:45 it's bathtime!"
Julian can read a digital clock. but he can't do "clock math," like understanding that 6:51 is after 6:50. Or if he does, he doesn't act on it. Gabriel, on the other hand, been adding and subtracting times for many years now, and has a very solid understanding that 6:52 is 7 minutes after 6:45...but he still can't judge how long 7 minutes is.
(Indeed, it's hard for anyone. I read once that adults are pretty good at guessing how long they've been waiting on line for up to about 5 minutes, after that, their judgment of wait time becomes vastly distorted. I thought about that as I was stuck at an intersection at First Street this afternoon, watching light-rail train after light-rail train interrupt my turn at a green. A clock revealed that it was "only" 4 minutes, but it felt like 40.)
So to move the mornings along, I've been telling them, "At 7:45 I take the bowls away, so if you want to eat breakfast, do it NOW." Before you wince at my cruelty, bear in mind that I tell them this at around 7:20 -- they have plenty of time to eat a bowl of cereal if they don't putz around.
Tonight, I was delighted at how quickly and efficiently they whizzed through the bath-pajama process when I stumbled across the (incredibly obvious) new policy that any ice cream that was earned gets doled out after bath. TIMED ice cream: "At 8:05 the bowls go out...and I put them away at 8:10!" Who knew those boys could get through bath and pajamas in less than 40 minutes and without any yelling!
Katrina, for all her faults, isn't a time liability yet. I think I'd trade her nightly dinnertime tantrum (still in full force) for some morningtime putziness, but something tells me I'll regret that wish. She's an expert in taking same-old same-old problems to new heights. But she loves pointing out the numbers on clocks.
1/20/09
Monday, January 19, 2009
1/19/09 Photo shopping
Katrina had a temperature last night, so I took the day off with her. I'd already committed the boys to Tonya's and playdates with the White kids, so I happily spent a day alone with Katrina. "Happily" includes expecting and bracing myself for the usual fusses and conflict, and she didn't disappoint. But, most of the day she played happily, chatting and even singing, checking in on me and telling me what color crayon she was using now. I loved that. Quantity time.
I can't imagine whatever possessed me, but I took Katrina to, of all places, a mall this morning. I really, truly hate malls, but the surprised expressions I get from people when I spit with distaste about them makes me think maybe I'm being too harsh. And some stores are located only in malls, such as Pottery Barn Kids. I wanted to check out some things I'd seen in the catalog, and this seemed as good a time as any.
So I put my toddler in a stroller and pushed her around a mall.
I quelled the immediate irritation about having a hard time finding the store, and outdated directories with place numbers that aren't on the map don't help. Katrina liked PB Kids immediately and insisted on getting out of the stroller, complicating my shopping. Clinginess is not one of her virtues.
I shop with my camera. It helps me remember what I saw that I liked, and puts it in a context I can remember. A photo in a store can give you a much better idea of how big something is than a catalog photo or a measuring tape. Photos remind me of small details too, like, "oh yeah, I didn't like the way those drawers opened."
So I went about my usual perusing, taking a photo here and there, digitally filing away ideas. "Can I help you find anything, ma'am?" asked a salesclerk, not smiling and not all that helpfully. I told her I was just looking for ideas. "We don't allow photography in the store," she explained, with a very slight scolding tone. "You're kidding," I said in a scoff. "Whatever." I packed up Katrina and left. It was hard to storm out in a dignified way though, since Katrina didn't approve at all of this turn of events, and cried and screamed the entire way back through the mall, and all the way home.
I can't stand those anachronistic policies. There are far, far more subtle ways of spying on other stores these days, and it's not like storefronts are all that make a company competitive anyway. What, if I were spying I'd be holding a camera out in plain view? I wish I'd told her, "But my bosses at Restoration Hardware told me to get some pictures, they're thinking of opening a kids' store."
So, in protest, I post my contraband for all to see. This probably does more to promote than demote the store -- and isn't that the point, you morons?
Katrina loved this little push-truck toy. I was proud of her, in a store filled with froofy girl stuff, she went straight for the truck.
I had to wake her up from a nap at 4:45 to pick up her brothers, who were engrossed in a Pictionary game. She peered at them with curiosity from outside the window.
I like Land of Nod better anyway. And they're not in any malls around here.
1/19/09
I can't imagine whatever possessed me, but I took Katrina to, of all places, a mall this morning. I really, truly hate malls, but the surprised expressions I get from people when I spit with distaste about them makes me think maybe I'm being too harsh. And some stores are located only in malls, such as Pottery Barn Kids. I wanted to check out some things I'd seen in the catalog, and this seemed as good a time as any.
So I put my toddler in a stroller and pushed her around a mall.
I quelled the immediate irritation about having a hard time finding the store, and outdated directories with place numbers that aren't on the map don't help. Katrina liked PB Kids immediately and insisted on getting out of the stroller, complicating my shopping. Clinginess is not one of her virtues.
I shop with my camera. It helps me remember what I saw that I liked, and puts it in a context I can remember. A photo in a store can give you a much better idea of how big something is than a catalog photo or a measuring tape. Photos remind me of small details too, like, "oh yeah, I didn't like the way those drawers opened."
So I went about my usual perusing, taking a photo here and there, digitally filing away ideas. "Can I help you find anything, ma'am?" asked a salesclerk, not smiling and not all that helpfully. I told her I was just looking for ideas. "We don't allow photography in the store," she explained, with a very slight scolding tone. "You're kidding," I said in a scoff. "Whatever." I packed up Katrina and left. It was hard to storm out in a dignified way though, since Katrina didn't approve at all of this turn of events, and cried and screamed the entire way back through the mall, and all the way home.
I can't stand those anachronistic policies. There are far, far more subtle ways of spying on other stores these days, and it's not like storefronts are all that make a company competitive anyway. What, if I were spying I'd be holding a camera out in plain view? I wish I'd told her, "But my bosses at Restoration Hardware told me to get some pictures, they're thinking of opening a kids' store."
So, in protest, I post my contraband for all to see. This probably does more to promote than demote the store -- and isn't that the point, you morons?
Katrina loved this little push-truck toy. I was proud of her, in a store filled with froofy girl stuff, she went straight for the truck.
I had to wake her up from a nap at 4:45 to pick up her brothers, who were engrossed in a Pictionary game. She peered at them with curiosity from outside the window.
I like Land of Nod better anyway. And they're not in any malls around here.
1/19/09
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