5/20/09 A historical ride

On May 15, one of my least favorite columnists in the San Jose Mercury News ran a story about a 10-year-old boy who is fascinated by flying, and who rode with some rode with WWII veterans on a WWII-era bomber.

The article mentioned that the two WWII bombers are here on the Wings of Freedom Tour historical aircraft tour, and that tours -- and rides -- are available on the old bombers. I couldn't stop thinking about it! Even though a 30-minute ride would cost me my summer wardrobe, I just couldn't pass it up. I reserved an 8:30am ride on the B-17.

I'd read about this plane in My War, a book Dave got me some time ago by Andy Rooney (yes of 60 Minutes fame), as he'd flown on some bombing missions before he moved to a much safer job reporting for The Stars and Stripes. But his book is where I learned about the extensive bomb campaign of Germany, from England, and the heavy losses of bombers. A B-17 carries a crew of 10, so a lot of guys get killed with one plane. I was fascinated to read stories of B-17s that came home despite incredible damage. I read up on the plane, on Wikipedia and various other Web sites, including numerous testimonials from the 457th Bomb Group Association.

So this morning, I arrived at Moffett Field at 7:45, barely able to contain myself. I'm so glad I arrived early, because I got to chat with a man who'd brought three of his friends -- all real WWII veterans -- for a flight, on his dollar (over $1700 of his dollars for all 4 of them). I didn't realize they were vets until one of them mentioned he was, and I was genuinely surprised -- he looked way too young. But he showed me his driver's license: born in 1919. The man was 90! Another veteran was a D-Day survivor, landed at Utah Beach. The third saw combat in Asia, and showed me the dent in his skull where he "left behind a piece of my forehead in Korea."

I was awestruck. What do you say to these amazing people? I had so many questions I was tongue-tied. I didn't even think to ask the obvious: what branch of the service they were in, if they were drafted, when they got out. But they did tell me a little about how they got through it, like ditching most of what they were given for equipment and carrying only the essentials. "90% of combat you're bored stiff," said Kent, the one without a complete forehead. "The other 10%, you're scared shitless." I think meeting them and marvelling that they really were there was more exciting, and poignant, than even flying on a genuine B-17 bomber.

Left to right: Bob (Hawaii and Phillipines, age 90), Bob (D-Day, with a patch on his jacket "Tough Ombres," named by Patton he said), me, and Kent (Korea and China).

Our plane is a B-17G, restored and in great shape. I had no real opportunity to ask the guys running the plane about it, like if it was in combat or not. There are only a handful left flying.



Not a great shot, but this is the entry hatch. "Boarding" means climbing through it.

I'll add that I clearly am not the usual demographic on these rides. Just like when I was riding with the BMW club, I was among the youngest, and the only woman. They all seemed surprised and delighted by this -- even the female reservation-taker asked me on the phone if this was for my husband. I don't know what the fuss is about -- I was far better-suited for crawling around the tight spaces than the guys. This hatch was by far the easiest thing to get in and out of on the plane.

While we were waiting, we kept seeing this blimp fly overhead. Buzzed by a blimp, can you imagine?!


Who knew blimps did touch-n-gos? Here it is on takeoff.


Before getting on the plane, the flight engineer gave us a bunch of instructions. This is a military plane, it has lots of places to bang heads and sharp corners. Don't grab the cables at the top, the pilots need those for steering. Don't lean on the hatches, they're designed for quick-release.

Once in the plane, me and another man were sent up front as we were smallest. My "seat" was a piece of plywood, my seat back was the back of the pilot's seat, and I had an archaic lapbelt. All the equipment was absolutely fascinating. Oh yeah, please don't kick those red levers, they're crucial valves of some sort. Roger!

This was tight for me -- some guy had to ride here for 8 hours at 30,000 feet unpressurized, being shot at? Jesus!

I was nervous and psyched for takeoff, but it turned out to be really easy and smooth. Within a minute, the flight engineer gave us the thumbs-out sign that we could unstrap and climb around to our heart's content.



Here, the "waist" of the plane is the luxury accommodations -- at least they had cushions to sit on.


The bombing bay, with about a 6" wide catwalk and narrow V-shaped columns to pass through. The "old guys" (not my words!) didn't even attempt to get through here, and so never made it to the forward half of the plane.


Kent in (I think) the radioman's area. I can't express how amazing -- spooky even -- it is to see the man and the equipment from a time gone by together in real life. And in color!


Pilots look where they're going to go too! Very cool. No talking to the pilots, please. It'd have been impossible anyway. It's LOUD. I liked hanging out behind them and seeing the engines though.




The best view in the house is in the nose. The entire nose is plexiglass (glass? I'm not sure), and it's under and forward of the pilots. This is the nose from the ground....

...and the nose from inside the plane. It's relatively roomy in there, though you have to climb down a narrow space between the pilots, then crouch through a sort of tunnel to get to it.




But what a view!

Still, I was keenly aware that the original occupants of this little penthouse were in the most vulnerable part of the plane, and that this enjoyment would be seriously tempered by being shot at.

Another awesome feature of this plane -- an open hatch at the top. A sunroof of sorts! I had to climb up a little to stick my head out, providing an incredible sensation. One that was tempered with the additional sensation of being about to be sucked out by the wind, so I didn't stay up long. It's impossible to turn your head forward, the wind is so strong at just 140mph that even it hitting you from behind is only tolerable for a few seconds.


But still, how cool is that. And the ever-present gun too. 5 gunners in a 10-man crew. Not to mention, the bombs. Take that, Luftwaffe! (The flight engineer did take care to tell us that the FAA would frown heavily on live ammunition, so this plane was not armed! I have to assume the bombs were fake or duds.)

It was over too soon, but the thrill will stay with me for a long, long time. The feeling of aliveness and excitement from something so unusual and so raw reminds me so much of when I was motorcycling, like I'm closer to real world or something. (Indeed, there does seem to be a high number of aviation-interested motorcyclists and motorcyle-interested aviators.)

Really, the experience of a lifetime. If this isn't enough to get my scrapbooking stuff out, I don't know what is!

5/20/09

5/19/09 Kindergarten kid

I went to Julian's kindergarten orientation today! I'm reminded again how much I don't like the school administration, and how much I do like the teachers. Well, I guess that's the better way to go.

One major point I wanted to find out is the school policy on kindergarten dropoffs and pickups. The CDC picks up kinders from the classroom, released by the teacher, but grade-schoolers leave the classroom on their own. Is this because of school policy for kindergartners? In the first part of the orientation, the principal lectured about the loading zone, where cars line up to pick up and drop off kids. OK, I guess kindergartners can leave the classroom on their own recognizance, walk to the loading zone, and get picked up -- I thought the teacher had to release them to an adult. But later, the school administrator made a big deal that only people listed on the child's Emergency Card is authorized to pick up the kid. I asked if the teachers have this card, and the main administrator lady glowered at me and repeated The Rule without answering my question, clearly interpreting my question as a practical challenge, which in a way, it was. I quickly explained to one of the teachers that I didn't think they should be stuck with checking I.D., they're busy enough as it is.

Two poor innocent new parents asked about getting together with other parents and incoming kindergartners for playdates over the summer, so that the kids could get to know each other. Seems reasonable, right? Of course, the perpetually flustered principal launched into some confidentiality policy about handing out parents' names. I had no choice but to pipe up and clarify that the class groupings are a closely guarded secret (I didn't use those words) until a few hours before school starts anyway, further un-ingratiating myself with the school. I felt bad for the new kindergarten moms, thinking that kindergarten should be such a fun friendly time and that the school might actually want it that way.

Julian is an A.M. kindergartner this time though. I came up with a most compelling reason to prefer AM over PM: because there's no way I can volunteer in the classroom if he's PM. That's true. There's only a slim chance I'll volunteer in the AM if I'm working, but slim isn't none.

I fell for these cheesy studio-type photos that Julian's preschool arranged for the graduating preschoolers.

I don't know why I buy these. I really don't like them. But I just can't pass up any photographic evidence of childhood. And besides, look at that beautiful, smiling, healthy, shining, happy little face! My precious Julian. (Who's been much better behaved the past few days.) (Gabriel is reading over my shoulder and disagrees.)

Katrina was in underpants tonight after getting home, and very proudly made use of the little potty three times!! Once, I didn't see any of it -- she even lifted the lid, pulled out the little cup, carried it to the big toilet, lifted the lids, dumped out the pee into the big toilet, then put the cup back. She was very very happy with herself, and my overjoyed reaction and heaped-on praise and fanfare was no act!

Hard to believe that in two years, I'll be butting heads once again with the school administrators yet again in kindergarten orientation.

5/19/09

5/18/09 Girls will be .... boys?!

Katrina is suddenly obsessed with sunscreen. She's been spitting on herself and then spreading it around: "Look, Mommy, sunscream!"


And then, on the way into the house today, she stopped at the rosemary bush on the front steps, pulled her pants down, pulled her shirt up and pushed her hips forward as little boys do, so as to project forward an organ she doesn't have.

"I want to pee on the bush!"


No wonder she's not potty-training! Too many brothers around here, neither of whom would confess to this influence. The next thing you know, she'll be aiming for lemon trees.

5/18/09

5/17/09 Heat wave!

It was unusually hot here today, especially for May. And somehow we'd picked today to go to the park with other Las Madres friends, though fortunately this park is in its own little microclimate with a breeze. First, a fun Zumba class at the Y. Going to the park made up for going to the Y two days in a row, in Gabriel's mind.

Katrina was adorable in a dress today, though this was the only photo she'd allow.


The boys actually unloaded the entire dishwasher this morning! Gabriel was in a quest to recover his Snap Circuit alarm that got put away for excessive rudeness yesterday, and Julian joined in the project. It took some climbing and guessing on their parts, but they did great. Hmm, now that I know they can do that, it's time to up chore duty around here!

5/17/09

5/16/09 A packed morning

All three to gymnastics today! I was worried about the boys behaving while I was coaxing Katrina through class, but that was the least of my worries. For starters, the teacher didn't show up, and our class got absorbed into the one right after, making for a packed class. Then Katrina was even more impossible than usual, and her antics was always holding someone up. When she refused to even line up to go to another room, I'd had enough and said it's time to go. She actually seemed sad about that, good! Meantime, the boys were quietly reading Nate the Great books, and were perfect.

A quick shopping at TJ's, then I dropped Julian off at a birthday party, then took Gabriel and Katrina to the Y, then dropped Gabriel off at home, then went to pick up Julian. I'd forgotten that there would be water play at this party, but fortunately the kind hosts loaned Julian a swimsuit. I hadn't thought to "sunscream" him either, and he has a nasty sunburn now.

Julian, front and center for the cake-cutting. Whose birthday is it, anyway?!

The birthday boy, Alex, is on Julian's right.

(Julian was telling me about some classmates who are Japanese, and I said he had some Indian and Chinese classmates too, like Alex. Julian said with genuine surprise, "Alex is Chinese?!" I asked Alex's father today where he's from, and he said Taiwan, but his parents were from China. His wife's family is Chinese too, but she was raised in Singapore. "Sometimes Alex doesn't know where he's from -- he says he's American!" Like Gabriel, one of the few other Caucasian kids in Julian's class is Finnish (Kai, on Julian's left, his other best friend besides Alex).)

Did you catch that I dropped Gabriel off at home? He was tired of driving around and really wanted to work on his Snap Circuits. I thought this was as good a time as any to experiment with Gabriel's first time at home alone, since we'd be just a few minutes away. I couldn't find any problem with the plan other than possibly being arrested or flagged by CPS for inadequate parenting, and they could catch me on so many other things anyway. Dave pointed out we should show him how to use phones and brush him up on phone manners, though.

After a busy morning, we ensconced at home. Katrina found a fun way to entertain herself: sorting toys by color into like-colored baskets (red in red, orange in orange, etc).


Even more exciting, I had her in underpants this evening. She was dry for almost two hours, then suddenly, "I hafta go pee!" and she sprinted, giggling, into the bathroom to make use of the little potty. Hooray!

The boys are in chocolate shock this weekend. Last night, they asked about baking brownies, so we did. Today, Gabriel found a description of "puzzle cake" in a Nate The Great book, in which you put cake mix into cupcake liners, and squish them together in a baking pan. The cupcakes bake in funny shapes, then you pull them apart and try to put the puzzle back together. Gabriel exclaimed that the best part was when you give up on the puzzle and eat the cake!

I also put pudding inside the cakes, so they got chocolate pudding before the cakes were done, then chocolate cupcakes too. And Julian also had birthday cake today! They're beside themselves. It won't be long before they figure out that all they have to do to get home-baked sweets is to ask. And help me bake them.

Getting hot this weekend. Shorts and sandals should cut down on some getting-ready time!

5/16/09

5/15/09 Food Fight

Dave rode out of town this morning, so I'm single parenting it this weekend.

This particular trip has me unusually melancholy - I'm really glad Dave's going, but I'm increasingly sorry I'm not. Looking over the maps reminded me of how I used to spend hours looking over maps and getting so excited planning the strangest routes over the tinest roads to the most remote places. Longtime familiar roads and towns are now fading from memory, replaced with a vague impression I've been there. That part of my life seems so, so far away, but it was so, so much a part of me, how could that be?

(For you non-motorcyclists out there, we live smack-dab in the, bar none, THE best place in the world for motorcycle-riding. There is absolutely no place like Northern California. Oh sure, there are other great roads in other great places, but there not nearly as many, so interconnected, so diverse, and covering such a huge range of beautiful places. Wide-open sweepers, smooth banked curves, tiny twisty nasty pavement, easily traversible unpaved, horrible rutted rocky barely-passable dirt roads -- it's all here. I miss the travel, the exploration, the technical challenge, the excitement, the sense of accomplishment, the clarity and focus of mind. And the stunning beauty of right here.)

Now my life is an "adventure" every day, but not in the same way.

Tonight I took on one of my toughest challenges yet, far worse than any 45-degree uphill with a sharp turn to the left at the top with a huge rut forcing you to the other edge: Getting Katrina to take a bite of broccoli. Inexplicably, I chose tonight to test her new reasoning skills, which, I discovered, are quite powerful, but not in my favor. One bite of broccoli was all she had to fulfill to earn herself a whole bowl of pasta. It was a challenge I immediately regretted, but didn't dare back down on once I'd started (not unlike riding a steep uphill: you lose momentum, and you're setting yourself up for a tumble...I always liked downhill better). Well, she refused to even try a tiny bite of cheese-covered broccoli, and ended up crying for her Mimi and had no dinner at all. Nice going, Mom. She won that one, hands down.

I joined the 21st century tonight, and started a Facebook account. I was floored to see that most of my longtime old friends who I looked for (Hillary, Andrea, Patty, Chris, Lisa) all had Facebook accounts. Facebook is for teenagers all right -- including teenagers who are now staring 50 in the face!

5/15/09

5/14/09 The Three C's

Coffee, Cheesecake, Chatter. What more could a mom want?

5/14/09

5/13/09 Ready for Kindergarten!

Julian had his pre-kindergarten checkup today. He's great!

Eye test, fine. About 20/30, expected for 5-year-olds. I was surprised to hear that it'd still get sharper, eyesight can still be developing at this age.

Hearing test, fine.


Blood pressure -- that tickles!


Waiting for the doctor for more tickling examination.


Stats: 43-1/2" tall (50%), 40 lbs (25-50%).

Julian was very brave for his shots, though he said, "I did say ow!"

Perfectly boringly normal!

5/13/09

5/12/09 Helping each other

This morning at 5am, our dreams of escape were shattered...Dave's turn to toss!

So he was in no shape to take care of kids or go to work. I got Katrina dressed, then got myself dressed and went downstairs to find Katrina sitting calmly at the island, with breakfast in front of her!

Gabriel had hauled her onto the barstool and gotten everything else, down to a placemat and a napkin. We're really not set up with stuff in kids' reach yet (and should be), and they're not in the habit of helping themselves, so this was a really nice surprise! What a terrific big brother.

Julian, meantime, was attempting his putzy "I need help" B.S. routine. He sat on the floor in his pajamas watching me as I unloaded the dishwasher, while Gabriel and Katrina ate breakfast, claiming he had no energy and was too tired to get dressed. I calmly told them about the time when my mother got really sick with pneumonia and might have to go to the hospital, and that we had to be really really good so she wouldn't have to go to the hospital, and how we found the energy when we were too tired.

He got "help" getting dressed though -- from Katrina. And though he did end up going to school with no breakfast, there was no major conflict either. He did start with the rude talk, almost by habit ("NO BREAKFAST?! How am I supposed to go to school?? MOM, do you even have a BRAIN? NO!"), but one reminder of the Rude Closet and he stopped.

Sick days aren't so bad when we help each other!

5/12/09

5/11/09 The Rude Closet

I swear we've been sold a bad bill of goods on discipline. Authoritarian and Alternative alike agree: warn, state a consequence, carry through firmly and consistently. You're done. Lesson learned. Right?

Why didn't anyone tell our children about this?

For us, carrying through with a consequence is only the beginning of a prolonged, painful conflict in which we suffer hours of screaming and crying and threats and defiance at every turn -- because we did something to them. This steep escalation used to only be Gabriel's department, and he's still the master, but Julian's screeching despair punctuated by enraged insults upon carry-out of a consequence is also absolutely horrendous.

It's like there's just no way out. I'm so on edge that I find myself clenching my teeth before asking (firmly, clearly, simply, calmly, kindly, positively and all the right things) for one of the boys to do something. And it's not all bad, but it can turn bad at any moment.

This morning, Gabriel lost a valuable alarm circuit thing, because he wanted to bring it to school, but only said so as everyone was getting into the car. We've talked many times that if he wants to bring something to school for Sharing, that it needs to be ready to go (in a bag, in his knapsack etc). If it's not ready to go, it's not going. He was so angry that he had to be dragged into the car and was so rude and threatening to Dave that Dave called me and asked me to put the circuit away.

Tonight, Julian lost a craft puzzle because he wasn't cleaning it up, and when the consequence of it getting put away (really away) was carried through, he completely freaked. His shrieking and howling were so savage that I had to leave the house and take a walk around the block.

What are we supposed to do?!

I was so upset at Julian's freakout that I tackled it sort of head-on, by calling him upstairs and getting him ready for bed alone. I needed some good time with him, and we all needed him to have time apart from Gabriel. He was still very upset about the craft puzzle pieces, wailing that the pieces were lost. I knew they were really important to him. Out of nowhere, I heard myself say that the pieces weren't thrown away, they got put away in a closet because of rudeness....yeah, yeah, that's the ticket, a Rude Closet. They're in the Rude Closet to get given away to a kid who's not rude.

I couldn't believe his reaction: wide eyes and genuine fear. "Given away?"

"Given away, to polite kids." I thought about renaming it the Polite Closet, but it just didn't have the same tone (sorry, positive parenters). He chewed on this. "What if I promise not to be rude?"

I ran with it, a la Carrie Bradshaw, who did what any writer does when put on the spot: "pulled an idea out of my ass." "No, no, the Rude Closet doesn't understand promises, only politeness. For five straight days!" I also talked to him very matter-of-factly about all the backtalk and rude talk and how it's just not allowed, and why, but it was all Charlie-Brown-grownup wonk-wonk-wonk to him. The Rude Closet on the other hand....that sunk in.

To my amazement and not-so-secret delight, as the boys were finishing up getting ready for bed, Gabriel appeared downstairs, with the same wide-eyed fearful face. "Mom...I didn't know about the Rude Closet....is my alarm circuit in there?" He started to cry -- cry! -- when I said it was on its way to a kid who wasn't rude. "What if I'm not rude?" "Hmm, I don't know, can you do that?" We talked about how long it should be in there for, and he said he thought it should be for the number of days in a row he's been rude, forgetting that he'd admitted it'd been least 5 days in a row (and I was being really generous with that). "OK. I'll think about it and talk to Dad later." Dave and I actually cleared a shelf and put their confiscated toys up there, in plain sight, tonight.

I was completely making this up as I went along. How many days, and how to track a particular toy's liberation date, general sentencing guidelines, I haven't worked through yet. In general, putting things away has its limits: kids quickly realize that they have nothing to lose now, and can be even more obnoxious. And the threat/consequence of giving toys away is nothing new. But for some reason, the prospect of quarantine in the Rude Closet has yielded the first sign of contrition yet. The devilish details will surely bring reality crashing around my ringing ears tomorrow, but tonight, I'll relish a small victory.

5/11/09

5/10/09 Mother's Day!

Being one of the biggest "hallmark holidays" today, I didn't want to go anywhere near any restaurants today. But I did want to do something with all of us, outside. The original plan was to go letterboxing at a popular shoreline park, but a big event made the parking impossible.

Plan B: a nearby baylands park. Maybe we could find another letterbox in this park via Dave's iPhone, but even if not (and that didn't work), nothing lost -- it's a neat nature preserve on the bay. It's mostly marshland with trails and wooden bridges, lots of birds, a duck pond, a launch for hand-carried non-motororized sailboats, and a small county airport right next to it.


We walked out to a vista deck on the bay that was really, really windy. Since we weren't expecting to go here, we weren't prepared at all. Katrina was wearing only a thin little dress, but she was pretty protected from the wind in the jogging stroller.




"No picture!"


This preserve abuts a busy county airport, with small planes landing and taking off every few minutes. We walked out to watch the runway for a while.



My little camera is no good at distant wildlife shots, but I loved these birds, so colorful.


Before we left, we attempted a photo shoot. Not easy given that the boys were in one of their impossible out-of-control giggle fits and that Katrina never likes her picture taken. This was the best we could do, but I'll take it!



I wish I could say that I spent today revering motherhood, reflecting on its joys and meaning and importance, but much of it was instead spent in exasperation at the constant rudeness and disobedience of boys. It is SO frustrating. Absolutely everything turns into a minor battle, something as simple as "close that gate" or "stop running that toy on the walls," is met with defiance, being ignored, escalation, or just plain No. By the end of the day, I was ready to snap at the slightest backtalk.

At least Katrina was competely, utterly delightful this morning especially, charming and sweet and saying adorable things and laughing a lot. The boys, on the other hand, defied every request, talked back at just about anything we said, and were awful again and again.

There were many good moments though. Thanks to moving and lots of toys having been stored away for a while, Gabriel has rediscovered his Snap Circuits and is taking them to a new level now, experimenting with his own circuits. Dave's been helping him a lot, and I get a kick out of watching them work together. It's watching my little boy growing up right before my eyes.


And Julian wrote me a song!! He asked for help spelling some words, and I suggested he put the date and his name on it, but otherwise, he did this entirely himself.

Sung to the tune of "Bingo":

I love you and she loves me and
Mommy was her name-o
M-o-m-m-y
M-o-m-m-y
M-o-m-m-y
and Mommy was her name-o
May 10th 2009
Julian

(I discovered that the way he writes a '9' is to turn the paper upside-down and write a '6'!)

Still, I could do without the insults ("bye UGLY MOM!") and the threats ("if you don't help me right now then I'm not going to put away my project") and the backtalk, ("no YOU put away my plate!") and the whining and crying ("I hurt my foot, I can't pick up the puzzle pieces!") -- and that's just Julian.

I'm losing faith that we know what to do -- it used to seem more obvious at night, when they're in bed and we can regain perspective and form plans and prepare for the next incidents, but today, I just have no idea. I guess nothing characterizes motherhood more than that.

5/10/09

5/9/09 Minastics

This morning I took Katrina to "minastics," which she claims to have great enthusiasm for, but then refuses to do most of the exercises. I got chatting with the mom of Zoe, a darling and very athletic little girl in Katrina's class, who turns out to be just 2 weeks older. Zoe is cooperative and willing and follows instructions and has a great time, whereas Katrina really stands out in the class as being resistant and refusing to try most things.

Another mom of another cooperative girl, Kira, said also that Kira wasn't so hot on gymnastics at first either, it took a session or two. But when I pressed, both conceded that their girls were hesitant and reluctant, but didn't scream or resist so furiously the way Katrina does.

Still, despite refusal occasionally escalating to full-on tantrum at the mere act of being asked, overall we did pretty well at "minastics" today.

Katrina completely refuses to join the warmup -- running and hopping across the room, one of the few things she can do easily.


She likes the trampoline though.


Inexplicably, she doesn't mind the "spider walk," which is walking her feet up the wall.


She's also OK with the low balance beam, provided she's holding my hand.


But daring to suggest she go on a different trampoline to get into her favorite, the donut? Forget it. The floor tantrum followed. Of course I don't force her, I encourage her, I suggest it, I imitate it, I sometimes carry her as I do it myself. This isn't about insisting she do something (except about turn-taking and not holding up other cooperative kids), she gets furious at the mere suggestion. Such as, "look, Katrina, Zoe's have a great time jumping on the trampoline!"


She did like watching Kira very competently climb the ladder and walk on the balance beam.


"No way Mom!" Katrina won't even touch the ladder, and I do mean touch -- she shrieked when I suggested she just put her hand on the ladder to see how smooth it is.


Stamp time! She likes the hand and foot stamps they all get at the end of class. Today none of the boys in the class showed up, but all 4 girls did.


I think that part of the problem is that Katrina's really not in her element. I joke about how clumsy she is, but watching how the other kids move around the equipment, it really does seem that physical coordination is a huge mystery to her. The rewards of swinging or jumping are a bigger stretch for her. I can appreciate that. But she loves finding shapes, colors and numbers around the room, and relaxes and lights up when there's a blue circle with a 9 in it to point out -- the contrast in her comfort level is remarkable.

After gymnastics, Katrina and I joined the boys at Bobbi's for breakfast. She's always happy to see them, and declares happily, "Brothers!"

Then we all went home for a busy and mostly productive afternoon at home. Dave and I are still starved for time at home getting things sorted or straightened out, and have a lot of energy for usually drudgerous projects like getting rid of stuff in the garage (still packed with furniture and leftover construction materials). I'm also sorting through all my remodeling-related papers, getting rid of most of it, filing a few things (receipts). Usually this sort of project is a serious pain, but I'm relishing cleaning out, getting down to the bare-bones, and mostly, unpacking my craft area so I can start scrapbooking again!

The boys were "bored" this afternoon (aw shucks too much outdoor play on a gorgeous day) and pulled out some slightly forgotten craft projects. Gabriel finally finished this helicopter, a cross between a model and a puzzle. A few pieces had broken along the way, and I'd glue and re-glued some of them. On one piece, I used a tiny piece of a safety pin to strengthen the broken joint. So it was a long road, and he was very happy to finish it today.

What do we do with things like this?

The evening was topped off with a nice round of popcorn for the whole family after dinner. I'll conveniently forget that Julian was removed after saying something about peeing in his popcorn (bathroom talk at the table is strictly forbidden), because otherwise it was a nice moment.

(shh...I think the stomach flu passed up Dave and Katrina after all, yay!)

5/9/09

5/8/09 3 down, 2 to go

Gabriel recovered pretty quickly from his tummy-ache and brief throw-up yesterday. But after we thought we were off the hook last night, Julian started. I should have known -- no tummy bug that's ever scourged this house has ever passed up his inviting system. Three bedding changes later, we finally cottoned on and put him on a sleeping bag on the floor, which in the morning was wet from another substance. Today I really wished we had two washing machines. The laundry queue went all the way down the hall. So far Dave and Katrina are holding up though.

I spent the day at home with Julian, still recovering myself, and we both spent a lot of it napping. He had plenty of energy to be a royal pain tonight, like screaming and crying from the bathroom that he needed help because "the toilet seat is too heavy to lift up!" Later when it was time to go upstairs, I asked him to put a project away first, and then found him playing with it instead of putting it away. And he was horribly rude to me when I sternly told him he was supposed to be cleaning up, not play -- he'd cut me off with a screaming, "STOP INTERRUPTING ME I'M PLAYING NOW!" It's enough to make the biggest sworn pacifist want to smack him.

One thing I don't get about this tummy bug....I wonder if it's from a common source? I was so bad off that I had no contact with Gabriel before he came down with it, and almost none with Julian, except when he brought me his blanket and kissed my cheek that morning though (awww).

That reminds me, this morning, Julian wrote me a note, calling to me from another room asking me how to spell, "You are special! To: Mama From: Julian" Awww again. It's funny remembering that right now, because I'm still ready to strangle him from the intense obnoxious attitude tonight. Such ups and downs! It reminds me of a line spoken by Miranda in "Sex And The City," about her 3-month-old son: "It's at this point in a relationship when I'd break up with the guy."

I'm sure I'll jinx it if I dare get hopeful that this bug passed Dave and Katrina over. Maybe tomorrow I'll try eating something.

5/8/09

5/7/09 The porcelain prayer

Last night I woke up around 3am with my stomach hurting. It was a familiar pain, one I'm heavily averse to and paranoid about, because it's the sort of pain I had for months in my 3rd pregnancy. I was restless and had an overwhelming urge to take my retainers out. That was a foreshadow, for soon it turned into a merciless morning of simultaneous vomiting and diarrhea. I don't throw up often. I never threw up once in any pregnancy. It's frightening for me, since it's so unfamiliar and signals that something is really, really wrong.

Well, nothing is really, really wrong, but I am really, really sick. It took all my energy to go downstairs and email a quick note to my manager at work. I crawled back up to bed. There was no way I was leaving the room today, let alone go downstairs. Then I developed a temperature too.

Then I got a phone call. "Mrs. Doudna? I've got Gabriel here in the office, complaining of a stomach ache..." Oh, no. I called Dave, but he didn't answer (meeting). I couldn't believe it. I was going to have to gather myself and go get him. I could barely crawl to the bathroom, let alone go out and drive. But this is what being a parent really is -- you dig deep and find strength you didn't think you had when your child needs you. Absolutely nothing else would have torn me out of bed today.

Gabriel's no complainer or story-inventor. He looked lethargic and sad, and within 5 minutes of getting home, he rushed to the bathroom and threw up too. I set him up in bed with a garbage can and a towel, and he went right to sleep. He got up a few hours later and is now playing quietly.

But it never happens that only one person in the family gets stomach flu. It sweeps everyone. This weekend is going to suck.

5/7/09

5/6/09 Backyard Play

"Look Mommy! TALL!"

(sorry girl, the genetic odds are against it -- but it's fun to play!)

Julian and Katrina were playing "camping." The playhouse was a cabin, the sand-strainers were plates (and alternately, hats), he was fishing for dinner, and she was mixing a cake.


Does it get any more adorable than this?

I'm glad he's practicing, because I've scheduled a camping trip for us in August (!! yayy !!). Julian especially is psyched for it -- and apparently, he'll be ready!

5/6/09

5/5/09 Zero tolerance?

Julian has been borderline unbearable lately. Anything we ask him to do, he responds with a rude tone, refusing, and then when we start to get mad, he feigns some injury and starts crying. If a consequence is meted out, he screams and cries so loudly that no one can talk to each other at all. I'm tired of him being so obnoxious and rude.

I braced myself this morning to not react to him at all, and instead to tell him something once, warn once, then follow through with the full-on response right away. This is a lot harder than it sounds, as there are many gray zones, such as what constitutes shouting or polite words delivered in an exasperated (rude) tone.

Mornings are especially hard, as he putzes around offers one stupid excuse after another for not getting dressed: "But Gabriel was DISTRACTING ME!" Today I tried my new approach, telling him once, then again, that when Dad was ready to go, he was going, even if it meant going in his pajamas with no breakfast.

I've made this threat many times, but usually I help him along with the various tasks because that is a very very painful threat to carry out. The pain would be easy to absorb once or twice if it permanently cured the behavior, but it never does. My goal wasn't to teach him a lesson this morning per se, but rather to practice this as a way of life with him, to learn to prepare for every confrontation with a battle plan. That's really a stressful way to live -- I can't so much as remind him to brush his teeth without thinking ahead about time in his room, or the front porch, or some favorite toy taken away, if he refuses.

And sure enough, Julian went to school today with no breakfast, carrying his shoes as he half-walked half-was-dragged across the wet driveway in his socks, wailing "I'm hungry! I'm hungry!"

And sure enough, it started all over again tonight, when he responded with "nooo-ooo, I don't WANT TO!" when gave him the exonerating warning that he had to set the dinner table in a few minutes. (The warning exonerates me, so that when I talk with other parents, no one suggests giving him a warning as though that will solve everything. In fact I think all warnings do is teach him that I say meaningless things.) And so, he ran down all the timers, used up all his warnings, and went to his room until dinner, where he screamed during most of everyone else's dinner, then came down for his dinner and went right back to his room for the rest of the night, as informed and warned.

I think this has to be supported with frequent, short, calm, listening talks when we're on good terms too. Though contemporary positive-parenting dogma has failed me in many ways, this sort of positive talking is an essential component for preventing this awful behavior. It just has to be in concert with a zero-tolerance plan for when he does act out.

So tonight before lights-out I sat down on his bed and talked to him about not being putzy tomorrow morning, that I know he's a big boy and can get dressed himself -- no putz, no rush -- and that it'd make me really happy if he has time for breakfast.

He oinked back at me. Without another word, I got up and left the room.

5/5/09

5/4/09 I Want Boys

Katrina's new thing in the car, the rare times I drive alone with her, is to ask about her brothers. She's quiet, or softly humming to herself, then out of the blue says, "I want boys." For once, it's not a demand or a complaint, just a statement of fact. When I repeat it back and ask her, "you want your brothers?" she smiles and says, "yes, brothers!" Today she added, "I want Julian...but I want Gabriel too!" Then when we arrive and she knows she'll momentarily see her brothers, she can't stop grinning. on the whole, she seems happier in the car when they're not there to bug her, but she claims to miss them. It's really super, super sweet.

Sure, the boys bug her too much and don't know when to leave her alone and let her play by herself, and they're constantly tugging her hair or taking her hand to kiss it at the dinner table, eliciting screams of objection, but I hope this love affair lasts a while longer.

"I want boys...!"

5/4/09

Wooden Models

"Crazy" Charles asks a good question -- what are these wooden models I keep referring to? They're simple, cheap little kits -- popular as party favors as they're about $1 at Michael's -- that come with tiny pots of paint and one of glue, paintbrushes, a little square of sandpaper, and the wooden parts to make a little model.

The first time Gabriel got one as a party favor, he asked me to help him with it. A combination of being busy with remodeling stuff, dreading dealing with paint, and having no interest in building a model made me put him off. Well, he wasn't put off, and he found a "splat mat" and spread it out on the floor, and got to work on it himself. I either overestimated how hard the instructions were, or underestimated him, because he did the whole thing by himself. Then Julian got one as a party favor, which he also set about on his own with a little help from Bonne Maman, and this kicked off the fad.

This is the first one Gabriel did, which he has since given to Katrina and done a much better job on identical Race Car kits.


This is a sampling of the models both boys have done. The three on the left are Julian's, and the three on the right are Gabriel's. Julian also does his entirely without instruction or help, other than getting him bowls of water to dip the paintbrushes into.


I love these things, and so do they. And bonus, you get the instructions in French too!

5/3/09 Some days ....

Are we allowed? Is it OK as parents to say "some days I just don't want to do this" ? Is it OK that some days you just don't like kids, your kids in particular, or the lives kids put you into?

Katrina had numerous impossible-to-please tantrums today, including a mondo one when she should have been happy and well-rested after a 3-hour nap. Julian was worse, whining and complaining and being rude and finding the silliest excuses to throw himself on the floor and cry.

Gabriel was pretty good, focused heavily on a new project (a 3-dimensional wooden puzzle of a helicopter), though he went to his room once for punching Julian. I really hate catching him in the act of punching when I know Julian deserved it -- I have to respond consistently and punish Gabriel for punching, while inside I'm meanly thinking to Julian, good, you asked for that, you brat.

Julian asked about playing ping-pong today, so as soon as Katrina went in for a nap, I pulled out the table. It is completely impossible to play with her there, she's constantly underfoot and demanding the balls and paddles. Gabriel joined, and the boys and I had a really nice time playing. I'm delighted that they're both getting a lot better -- we even got a few rallies going, where "rally" means the ball got hit back and forth twice. Real playing is a long ways off -- neither has any interest in forehand, for instance -- but they're both getting more consistent and are following my suggestions well.

They played a little together too.


It's funny, so often I berate myself for not being willing to spend time doing stuff with my children, but I think that's because it's the wrong "stuff." I can't bring myself to do craft projects together, but I can play ping-pong with them all afternoon. I think I have to stop berating myself and just accept that that's the way I am.

We're in a military airfield's flight path, and sometimes we get to see some pretty cool aircraft. This one is OK -- the really cool ones go by WAY too fast to even turn on the camera. A few weeks ago I caught a pair of fighter jets flying in formation and they were totally vertical when I first saw them, quickly straightening in a graceful arc to horizontal before landing.


At dinner, I tried to video Julian throwing one of his fussy-fits to see if it would deter him. It didn't, but I caught a sweet moment instead of Katrina feeding Gabriel. It's hard to pick out the sweetness out from behind Julian's kiniption (supposedly about the travesty of his napkin being trapped under his dinner plate), but you can sort of make out Katrina saying delightedly, "Gabriel like it, Mommy!"


Some days it's just no fun to be a parent, but even those days still have a lot of good to them.

5/3/09

5/2/09 Three's not bad

Today I took the boys to Michael's again to get more wooden models (I love that they now think Michael's is a great place to go!). On the inevitable perpetual line, the woman in front of me smiled at the boys' enthusiasm about their projects, and commented how sweet they are at this age (uh-huh, yeah, right, whatever). She said "Just wait until they graduate and leave," and I said I couldn't imagine -- even sending my 2nd to kindergarten was going to be hard, and then there's the sister at home. She made a face of longing and said, "Oh, you have another one too, a girl?" Then in one of those odd moments of intimacy and honesty that only strangers share, she said, "See, now I wish I'd had more than one, because when he leaves, that's it."

Usually people's reaction to my having three children is "oh, really?" in a "better you than me" sort of way. It's rare that I get genuine envy.

5/2/09

5/1/09 The Unwelcome Return

Dinnertime tantrums and migraines...I think it's a coincidence. Really, not needed. Please go away.

5/1/09

4/30/09 Precaution as a way of life

I must have better things than this to blog about, but this sticks in my head. Yesterday at work, a pretty high-level executive sent a reassuring message to employees about the swine flu, entitled "Precaution as a way of life." He went on to say that we must maintain the "same diligence" as we always have with hygiene and hand-washing, but must add "extra focus."

(One thing I never understand about the stated requirements for effective hand-washing: how long does it take to kill germs? 20 seconds? 30 seconds? As long as it takes to sing Happy Birthday? As long as it takes to sing Happy Birthday twice? I've heard all of these. But what happens after 15 seconds, or if you don't sing the last "Happy Birthday to YOU" line? The rules are stated so arbitrarily that they become meaningless -- there's obvious benefit to hand-washing, but I truly have no idea one should actually wash, or how, to achieve the most benefit.)

Aside from the contradictory writing, the overall point was to be careful in life as a day-to-day policy. I like him well enough, but I can't agree with that. Safety must be a calculated judgement of risk versus benefit, or we'd never leave the house, or get into the bathtub in the house. Life has its dangers, and focusing too heavily on their avoidance could only diminish it. Precaution as a way of life? Sounds risky to me.

4/30/09

4/29/09 Staging

Can't talk now...appraiser is coming to check out our house tomorrow, and I need to make it look showroom-perfect again! When our contractor and architect did their photo session before our open house, they brought stuff to stage it with, including this rooster.

I thought this was hilarious, especially since of all things I find unattractive in kitchens, it's images of poultry. Although looking at it now, I kinda like the little guy.

And I need the rooster now! If only my kitchen still looked like this:

Which it did for about two hours for one day, before it discovered that it was not brought to life to be pretty, but to lead a life of hard work. And it has, but tomorrow, it needs to be a smiling model again.

4/29/09

4/28/09 Milk Mouth

Katrina takes her milk very seriously!

I took the photo because the milk mustache, the glass of milk and the milk clock in the background all sang in chorus: "t a k e a p i c t u r e..." The goofy face was just a bonus!

4/28/09

4/27/09 Is she home yet?

For Christmas, Julian got the unusual gift of a book of the original Wizard of Oz, annotated and with all original illustrations. Everyone knows the movie, but have you ever read the original book? I did as a kid, and it's excellent and very bizarre. I'd like to re-read now it as an adult, as it's filled with nuances and political statement of the time. Even if you miss those, as I surely would even now, the language is rich and archaic and the story is complex and woven.

Dave's been reading it to the boys, moreso Julian, page by page, for months. Consequently, Julian has been very concerned for quite some time about whether or not Dorothy gets back to Kansas. When his grandparents were visiting, out of the blue he asked Bonne Maman, "Does Dorothy ever get back to Kansas?"

Today I experimented with a different route home, which meant picking up Julian first, and having some rare time alone with him in the car. As we were on our way to pick up Katrina, I was idly listening to NPR, when I suddenly heard from the back, "Mommy! Guess what! Dorothy made it back to Kansas!" I turned down the radio, and listened, fascinated, in exquisite detail, about how the Good Witch told Dorothy she had the charm in her silver shoes (in the book, they're silver), and that on the very last page she gets home to Kansas and to her Aunt Em (in the book, she's Aunt, not Auntie).

I'm not even sure he knows there's a movie, and I saw no need to tell him right away. Clearly, Frank Baum's original story is still very captivating and fills the imagination. And how can you replace Julian's joy and relief from learning, after months of following a fascinating epic journey, that Dorothy made it home?

Certainly, I relate very well to one of life's simplest joys -- going home -- too.

4/27/09