6/6/09 Picnic Day

Ugh, what a nightmare, literally. I was woken up countless times last night by intense cramps in my abdomen and stomach pain, capping off two days of general gastrointestinal distress and discomfort. I'd stayed up late to finish off all the food preparation for today that I knew I'd never do in the morning, which includes cutting things, wrapping them and making them transportable. I was so tired it rivalled my #1 Most Tired Night ever, the night we moved back home (almost 4 months ago!). I'll never forget how completely wrung out I was that night, dying to collapse and blow everything off, but still had to make lunches and find breakfast cereal. Last night wasn't quite like that, but I was reminded of it.

I was bitterly disappointed that a packed day I was looking forward to today risked being ruined by this tummy trouble (not stomach flu but something seriously irritating my entire GI tract). It already made me miss some work this week, broke my streak of daily exercise and disrupted my grand ideas last night of taking the boys to a Movie Night at school last night.

So this morning, Dave took Katrina to gymnastics, something I've come to really enjoy doing. Today was the last class, but I signed her up for the next session. As resistant as she is in class, she talks about it all the time and then does things from the class outside the class, like walking on lines as though they're a balance beam. She's getting a little more cooperative in class, in bits and pieces, and I really enjoy the time alone with her. Which this morning I spent in bed.

This was a first -- she went to gymnastics in underpants. She's been in underpants all week, but she's far cry from potty-trained, so this was a big experiment. She agreed to go pee in the little potty at home before getting in the car, but went into a complete rage about being compelled to sit on a real toilet at the gymnastics facility at class. It was worth trying, because Tonya has gotten her to use a real toilet at her house, all day without accidents on Friday! A big step! But at home, or for us, nuthin' doin'.

After Dave and Katrina returned from gymastics, I went to Tonya's baby shower without any kids, glad to get out of the house and forget about how bad I felt. It was fun; I like baby showers and all things baby when I'm so secure in the knowledge that I'm not going to have any more!

Then I called Dave and he brought the kids to the park for an annual Las Madres picnic for the 2006 group, which was conveniently about a minute away. Of all things today, I didn't want to miss this. The kids all love this park, I don't do enough park time with them, and I really like the low-key Las Madres 2006 group. Besides, I knew I'd spend the rest of the day in bed, so it'd be nice to have some of the day outside and appearing normal.

Thankfully, Dave ended up staying and minding Katrina on the big-kid playground. Not to mention helping me being prepared to face the inevitable problem of what to do if Katrina had to go pee. A park is a good place to test this; lots of places for her to go outdoors, if she will.


But, a bucket of water intervened; her clothes got wet and I'm sure having her hands in the water added to some unfair inspiration and distraction. So the big showdown didn't happen here, it happened in her pants and that was fine. I carry lots and lots of extra clothes now!


Meantime, the boys suckered Gina, Andrew and Dylan's Dad into pushing them on the swings. Honestly. They're 7 and 5, they can pump themselves just fine! Clearly Gina and Andrew have had a lot more practice and are much better at it. I hate standing and pushing kids at swings, which is why the boys asked someone else, who kindly obliged. It's embarrassing! I was annoyed later when Julian admitted he hadn't thanked the generous Dad, despite several reminders to which he responded with annoyance, "I KNOOOOWW."


I didn't even get many pictures, though I did ask Sonia to take a few of us that she'll pass along in a few days.

And indeed, I spent the afternoon napping and channel-surfing in bed, until boredom drove me out. I actually found the energy to make dinner and to write tonight, but after Publish Post, I'm done for the day.

6/6/09

6/5/09 Movie Night

Today (ok, yesterday, this is a retro-post), Gabriel's school's PTA hosted a Movie Night: Kung Fu Panda, which Julian has been really into lately (the book, that is).

It started at 8pm, creating numerous logistical problems. Starting with one for me (because, it's always about ME!), I had a goal of exercising every day this week, and had a 4-day streak going, and wanted to swim from 7:15pm-8pm. Not to mention a busy day tomorrow -- Tonya's baby shower and a Las Madres picnic, both of which I wanted to bake for, plus kid-sandwiches for the picnic, plus a present to wrap. Could I sit through a movie that night? I didn't think I could leave them there alone.

Well, my tummy solved all the logistical dilemmas -- no swimming, no going out. I felt horrible all day yesterday, despite a long nap in the morning. I just couldn't shake it. The smell of pool chemicals during swim lesson didn't help at all.

But even though I hadn't psyched the boys up for the movie, I still felt bad about it. I wish it had been on a different night, and then I would have taken them to the move and stayed with them. So I made it up to them (really, myself), by digging out some of our kid-movies, still packed in a box. The boys picked a "SpongeBob Christmas" video, and for the first time since we've moved home, they watched TV.


They were awfully peaceful during the movie. But, I didn't like hearing it while it was on. I also didn't like the time constraint it imposed, how we had to wait until it was over to do anything else (like bedtime for Katrina). Worse, the boys were whiny and complainy afterward about being bored. I'd actually interrupted Gabriel working on a new circuit, Julian reading and Katrina playing outside for them to watch SpongeBob (which they did really enjoy watching).

Maybe the collateral damage of TV-watching would subside if they watched TV on a more regular basis, or if we all watched movies together that we'd all like (SpongeBob isn't bad but it's not my thing). As I discovered when Gabriel was a todder, for the most part in our current lives, there's more to be lost than gained. The reasons are different, but the balance remains. This is mostly a practical, not philosophical perspective, one of those living day-by-day parenting decisions, one that can't even be elevated to be called "principle." It just works for now.

As it turns out, whatever was bothering my tummy developed into full-scale intestinal war during the night, and I spent much of the next day watching TV. I didn't say I don't watch!

6/5/09

6/4/09 Where things don't belong

What's wrong with this picture?


10 minutes before I took this photo, Julian came to tell me that he'd kicked his shoe off by flicking his foot. "DON'T DO THAT," I instructed, keenly conscious that Positive Parenting principles say not to say "don't," but what to do instead. I just couldn't come up with a positive alternative. "Don't kick your shoe."

Minutes later, I heard a sickening sound of impact, followed quickly by the boys calling frantically, "Mom! Mom! Come here!!" The truly alarming thing is the big dish-shaped piece of glass off-kilter.

Well, I imposed a "natural consequence:" Julian can't wear shoes in the house for a few days.

6/4/09

6/3/09 Positive Discipline

Tonight I attended what for me is a "refresher course," a talk on Positive Discipline. As many of my Mom friends know, I often felt like the Positive Discipline methods failed me, made me feel guilty and inadequate and like a failure. As I learned later, the real problem was that my child didn't read the book.

It shouldn't be called "Positive Discipline," because it's not about discipline at all. It's about positive parenting and general practice -- good stuff. I think being creative and humorous and adjusting environments and speaking in positive terms (what a kid can do, not just what they can't), is important and the way we all should be as a first line of defense. There's no harm in it, and much to be gained. It's a far cry from the "children should be seen and not heard" methods of decades ago, and this thinking has gone a long way toward improving my mentality and relationships with my kids when things are good, and certainly reduced conflicts especially with Julian when he was younger.

But Positive Discipline falls short for when, well, discipline is needed, for when kids don't simply back down when a natural consequence is presented, or is given a gentle but firm instruction to "use your inside voice" (instead of "no yelling") and completely ignores you. There seems to be an assumption that you explain something to the child and that's that, the incident is over. And some do -- I can see that moms of Katrinas, who crumbles and cries when scolded -- would think this stuff is easy. But moms of Gabriels, who only escalated into lengthy, futile struggles, are left feeling helpless and inadequate.

I was frustrated again that Positive Discipline speakers routinely suggest you don't pick a battle when someone asks how to handle a battle they've already picked. There's much to be said for avoiding battles, I do it as much as possible, but there's no way around it: sometimes, you choose a battle. And we're allowed and shouldn't feel guilty about that. In some cases, there is no battle to pick if a child isn't following a family rule -- you can't offer choices or redirect or eliminate a problem item from the environment. Sometimes you just have to enforce. Positive Discipline talks don't talk a lot about enforcing rules (unless they have to do with safety, in which case they're "limits" and those are OK).

As an example, one mom asked about a nightly battle with her 3-year-old daughter, who throws a huge fit when it comes time to turn off the TV and sit down to dinner. She's really mad! (the daughter). The speaker advised to really validate the child's feelings -- acknowledge as forcefully as the child that you understand how mad she is ("I know, this REALLY makes you mad!!"). OK, fine, good stuff. My "validation" of my kids' feelings is evident when Gabriel furiously venomously hurls at me, "I AM **FURIOUS** WITH YOU RIGHT NOW MOM!!" Yes indeed, he's developing a rich emotional vocabulary.

But then, the speaker advised to offer the TV-watching 3-year-old a natural consequence: dinner stays out for 15 minutes, and then goes away, and if you're hungry later, too bad. Presumably, the memory of her hunger will cause her to reconsider the next night. So the child -- a three-year-old -- can decide to watch TV or eat dinner.

I was appalled. This is the same thing as just giving in to a 3-year-old's tantrum to watch TV. The child learns the next night to have dinner? I don't know, in my book, most children learn from this "Hey, I don't have to do what Mom says -- all I have to do is throw a huge fit to watch TV and miss dinner, cool!"

The speaker then talked about children's nutritional needs, and how missing dinner causes Moms angst, but it really won't harm the child. OK, but a hungry 3-year-old who just got their way can certainly harm Mom for the rest of the night. No mention of the effect it might have on other children observing the situation.

I personally am pretty proud that we've converged on a far, far better way to deal with food battles and dinnertime behavior (thanks to extraordinarily persistent Gabriel): separate them. We have rules about dinnertime, but no rules about eating. The kids must go to the bathroom and wash their hands before dinner, they must sit down to dinner, they must ask to be excused, and must put their plates away. Actually eating? That's up to them. Dessert or bread is out of the question without finishing vegetables, but everyone has a night when they don't feel like eating, and I can't second-guess someone else's stomach. I hope they eat, and encourage it, and sometimes distract them from leaving by telling a story, but ultimately, if someone decides not to eat a bite, so be it.

I wish the Positive Discipline speaker would offer this sort of strategy to frustrated parents, instead letting a tantrumy 3-year-old watch TV and sort out the natural consequences of being hungry. Parents shouldn't feel guilty about taking on that battle to establish rules. And you know what -- even Katrina is in the habit of putting her plate away after dinner. She needs help, and sometimes she refuses, but then I pick her up and "make" her do it anyway.

I guess a lot of this would work better if I didn't have time constraints when I get home, if I never had an exceptionally strong conflict-seeker, or three children. Or rules.

However, I found that talking about the upcoming Positive Discipline talk was very, very effective tonight! Julian was mortified when I told him tonight that I was going to go ask a lady tonight about what to do when little boys don't listen. "No you're not!" he retorted. "Julian, you can say whatever you want, but I'm going." "I'll listen!" he said, deeply concerned. I told him, "Well, sometimes I have to tell you again and again and again not to fight in the car or make siren sounds in the house, and when I do tell you, you ignore me or keep doing it." "Then send me to my room!" he answered frantically. "Well, when I do that, you complain and ignore me or throw yourself on the floor pretending you hurt yourself and kick stuff along the way and open drawers and slam doors or you just don't go." "I will, I promise!!" I was amazed how effective it was "telling" Katrina that I was going to ask the lady what to do about putziness in setting the table, when Julian ignored my 2nd reminder. Then he spurred into action!

His distress was genuine and heartfelt that I was going to tell this nebulous distant power about his bad behavior. So I kneeled and hugged him and told him I was also going to tell the lady how I have a wonderful little boy who's almost in kindergarten, who loves Cam Jansen books, how I love it when he's my sous-chef, how proud I am of him. I kissed him and tickled him and told him how much I loved him and that I couldn't possibly live without my Julian and that I would tell the lady allll about how much I love him. I didn't have to dig deep, it's all completely true and very present, bubbling to come out. I could go on for hours about how I love him. He beamed and smiled and relaxed, then gave me one of his exquisite kisses.

See, I actually have learned something from positive parenting.

6/3/09

6/2/09 Car swap

Once again, we had to drop my car off at the dealer to investigate a strange whistle-y noise under acceleration. Exactly the sort of thing people call Click-n-Clack about (you know, CarTalk on NPR), but Dave thought a local mechanic should look at it. Can't argue with that, but it involves trucking the whole family up to Redwood City after dinner and bath, and takes up much of the evening. (There is a closer Subaru dealer, but the one we go to is a lot better.) Someday, someday....someday Dave and I will be able to run such errands at night without bringing everyone. Or better yet, Honda will come out with a station wagon with decent gas mileage.

Getting into the car, we ran into our very friendly and nice next-door neighbors, who, inexplicably, adore our children. They told us they always hear Katrina singing in the backyard, as she often plays very close to the fence which is right on their kitchen window. Katrina wasn't thrilled about Bo-Yuan picking her up, but she didn't object either. Bo-Yuan told us she always hears Katrina singing while playing in the little playhouse that's right by their kitchen window.


Another new turn in potty-training: Katrina has figured out this is a great excuse to get out of bed. "I have to go to the potty!" I have to respond to this of course, but most of the time she just sits and giggles, happy to have found a way to capture my attention. I make the most of it and try to find ways to get her to sit on the real toilet -- lid down of course -- with very limited success so far.

Sigh...I guess I shouldn't be too anxious for that new Honda.

6/2/09

6/1/09 Who loves you, baby?

On the way into TLC to get Julian, Katrina objected:

K: "I don't WANT to get Julian!"
Me: "But you love Julian!"
K: "No, I don't love Julian. I love GABRIEL!"

Tonight, little love for either boy. WHAT is so funny about various colors of diarrhea?

Still zerosville with potty-training. Except tonight I found one thing worse than finding a poop in underpants: not finding it. And having to look for it. Bleh!

(And I wonder where my foul-mouthed sons get it?)

6/1/09 (It's JUNE! 2 more weeks of school! Better yet, 24 more days until preschool graduation!!)

5/31/09 Grumpy boy

My goodness, is being an obnoxious 5-year-old just a "phase" ? Gabriel and Katrina handle sleepover just fine now, but Julian didn't waste a second turning on brat mode when they got home this morning. Fortunately, he announced he was tired and went to his room and took a long nap.

I resolved to take Julian somewhere alone today, just to give him some one-on-one time. I coupled that with an errand to Home Depot (with reluctance; I hate running home-improvement errands these days), then took him to the library. He had a great time picking a huge stack of books and playing outside the library. Later, Dave took him along grocery-shopping alone too.

It's remarkable what a pain he can be around his siblings, and how delightful he is to be with alone.

5/31/09

5/30/09 Wall shopping

Saturday's priority was, of all things, shopping for retaining wall materials. Landscaping stuff is hard to pick from catalogs. As it turns out, it's not easy to find at real stores either -- ironically, the brick-n-mortar stores were short on brick!


At least one place was very pleasant and attractive to be in, and had a cool little fish pond. Katrina loved it.


This is very typical of the dynamic with the three of them. Gabriel frequently near Katrina, often with his arm around her.


And Julian pestering her, her shoving him aside and screeching.


This morning, I took Katrina to a really successful gymnastics class. She voluntarily did some new things (somersaults) and needed no coaxing for some new favorites (walking her feet up a wall, balance beam), and didn't throw any major fits. She really enjoyed having my full attention and physical play with her during the class, and I did too.

We're in a nowhere zone with potty-training. She's doing great with going to the little potty if she has to pee, but refuses to go before getting in the car, refuses to go in anything other than the baby potties, and always poops in underpants. I had no choice but to put a diaper on her for gymnastics, with regret. I know we'll get past this, but I sure wish I had some idea how.

Sleepover tonight! For the grownups, dinner and housewarming party at a friend's house. Ahh.

5/30/09

5/29/09 Swim boys

I left work a little early today, partly because I was dog-tired from sleeping horribly last night from stomach trouble, and partly because of stomach trouble. But leaving early (well, earlier) proved to be a good thing, giving me a little time at home alone before going to get the boys for swim lessons. I was able to pick up Gabriel just after he got out of school, and for once we weren't rushed getting Julian and then to the swim school on time.

I once thought I'd hate waiting around during lessons, especially swim lessons, since I had so much fun doing swim lessons with them when they were babies. But I really like being there. I like the sounds, the activity, the energy, and seeing them in the water. The hectic part -- getting dressed and undressed -- is greatly mitigated by the fact that I only really have to deal with Julian. Katrina isn't there, and Gabriel takes care of himself in the boys' room.

The only downside to these particular swim lessons is that I don't think Julian is being challenged. When I see him he's either waiting, or being pulled around on his back. He used to swim across that same pool when he was 3. But he really likes it. Gabriel is making good progress, swimming well with his arms, though he doesn't know how to coordinate breathing yet.

My boys. I just adore them. I adore them before swim class when they're still rowdy, and really really adore how mellow they are afterward.

I don't need to be a full-time Mom, but I do want afternoons with them after school.

5/29/09

5/28/09 Underpants Day

"Underpants" ? Tonya chuckled that Katrina calls them "underpants" instead of "panties," which puzzled me at first. Why wouldn't you call them underpants? Then I realized: this is the difference between raising girls instead of boys.

I'm not sure, but this might be it -- after a stinkie in a Pull-Up this morning at preschool, Katrina did great in underpants the rest of the day, just one accident (isn't there a better word for that?) at 5pm. Once we got home, she had 2 more "accidents," (one of which was no accident but her ongoing deliberate refusal to use the potty for #2), but also the now-regular successes.

Despite the huge challenges of getting her to go near real toilets, agreeing to pee before getting into the car, and considering the potty for #2, I'm having a hard time imagining going back to diapers. Even at nighttime, it's seeming short-lived: this morning, she woke me up at 6:30am (moments after Dave had gotten into the shower, argh), asking to have her diaper removed so she could go.

I know the reason for this new attitude toward potty-training. It's because I spent over $60 stocking up on diapers and Pull-Ups last week.

5/28/09

5/27/09 "I'm so proud of you!"

This is pretty funny -- every time Katrina uses the little potty, she's very happy and proud of herself. Then she repeats what she always hears from grownups: "I'm so proud of you!"

I sent her to Tonya's in underpants today, and she did great except for one stinkie. It took Gabriel months to get solid on solids, so once again, it looks like she's taking after her brother. Tonya likes consistency, so she's going there in underpants every MWF now. At TLC, out of courtesy to the busy preschool teachers, she's going in Pull-Ups on Tu/Th, but that's only for a few more weeks, and I might talk to the teachers about trying underpants next week depending on how this weekend goes.

Someone again today suggested getting a portable potty to keep in the car, but I just can't imagine carrying that around. What, I'm supposed to carry it -- and its eventual contents -- around museums, the beach, grocery stores, hikes? Blah. No, she's got to learn to squat. Better yet, to use a real toilet. Her relentless resistance doesn't mean it's not sinking in -- that's a pattern with her: no no no no no no no no no no No No No No No...then suddenly -- OK!

Gabriel reminded us tonight that when he wants to give us trouble, he's the master. One rude comment escalated into being warned, then removed to the dining room for dinner, a swat for a particularly rude one ("then you stop being so STUPID Mom!"), a toy banished, two more toys banished, then sent to his room for the rest of the night.

It's stressful and unnerving facing off with Gabriel, because you just don't know where -- or if -- it's going to end. He can easily outlast the last resort. Julian's been the main source of evening angst around here lately, but he withers and screams and cries and carries on. It's intensely annoying, but in a strange threadlike sort of way, we're still in control. With Gabriel, our control is a thinly veiled illusion that someday, he'll break through like a karate kick through rice paper, unleashing his furious power.

Katrina, thank goodness, when scolded or even told gently that she can't do something, busts up into angry tears. This is much better; there's no escalation and she can generally be distracted or comforted out of it (though tonight she SHRIEKED in protest at being told -- gently -- not to play with the swinging door). If she were my only child, I might be mystified why smacking a defiant child would ever be necessary -- clearly there are other ways out of difficult situations! Sure, if they're like Katrina and actually respond or even cry when they're scolded. There's rarely any need to do anything more physical with her than to pick her up and move her. As much as she takes after her older brother, she doesn't have his iron backbone or icy courage.

Meantime, I'm so proud of her sudden turnaround on potty-training!

5/27/09

5/26/09 Grandfathers

Julian, in one of those classic childhood innocent moments of poignancy, said to me today, "Mommy, some grandparents live in California." A stab went through my heart. He equates grandparents with far-away distant relatives that you get to see once or twice a year.

Like me, he'll grow up without any extended family in the area who you see on holidays, at parties, and random weekend afternoons. My kids have aunts and uncles and cousins and yes, grandparents, and they certainly know that they're special in their lives, but they don't get to see them on a regular basis.

I never knew any of my grandparents. My grandmothers died before and soon after I was born. I did meet one of my grandfathers, but by the time I was 14, he was succumbing to dementia to the extent that he confused me with my mother and was losing his English. And he lived in a nursing home in France, so it's not like we could pop over easily for a visit.

With my recent immersion in WWII history, I remember now that both my grandfathers were in WWII. That's actually odd when you do the time math -- being born in 1963, I'm actually on the old side to have a grandfather who served in WWII, as most of those were kids in their late teens drafted in the early 1940s. Both my grandfathers were in their 40s during WWII.

The grandfather I did meet was also in WWI -- my mother says that her father joked that he was the youngest corporal in WWI and the oldest lieutenant in WWII (in the French Army that is).

My father's father was career military, in the Army Corps of Engineers, a civil engineer by trade. He fascinates me because of all the old photos I have, that my brother rescued from a decaying box in a barn at my Dad's house, of destroyed bridges and buildings that he took after D-Day. He's smiling in many of the photos I have of him, and my brother also found a newspaper clipping of a story in which he used his gift of gab -- and a smattering of high-school German -- to persuade some Germans to surrender in a small town in France after D-Day. A photo-taker, an engineer, a yakker -- I'd have related to him! And the 5-year-old girl in me wonders if he'd have liked me. That girl only saw that grandfather once, in his casket at his funeral, a sight sufficiently shocking for a 5-year-old that the image is still with me.

My mother's father with my 8-month-old mother (who was the most beautiful baby I have ever seen), 1940.


My father's father, undated photo, probably in the 1930s as he looks to be in his early 30s.


It's funny, an irony of getting older myself, that I feel the loss -- or rather, absence -- of grandparents more now than I did as a kid. That's just the way it was then, I didn't know for normal. I'm grateful that my children will have grandparents in their lives, as I didn't. But my guilt grows that it's a surprise for them discover that some grandparents live closeby.

5/26/09

5/25/09 You get what you plan for

Today, I planned to do nothing. And I got what I planned for! An unproductive, little-bit-here little-bit-there, discontinuous, lazy day! We'd had a full weekend, I needed to catch up around the house. Which means doing, basically, nothing.

I wasn't motivated to go out partly because poor Katrina's GI tract had a touch of the Julians today. But she tried many times during the day to poop on the potty. She tried! She sat on the little potty and said she wanted to go! This is a far cry from her usual flat-out refusal. Unfortunately her efforts mostly yielded tears. Finally by afternoon, a suppository and a relaxing nap took care of the problem. Later in the day she pushed out some more pebbles into underpants, dashing my hopes of the first direct-to-potty delivery, but if there's anything I've learned about potty-training, it's to be thrilled with even the tiniest steps. Such as: she finally started to flush herself. I finally got her to "flush" by pushing on my arm as I pushed the lever, and last night, I saw her put her hand on the lever, then push on her arm with her other hand to flush!

So it was a nice relaxed day...until it came time to put away toys after dinner.

Would someone please explain the concept to me of teaching a child a lesson? If they resist a request to clean up toys, then you give them a clear task, set a timer, and state a consequence -- then if the child fails in his task, the consequence is carried out, and the child learns his lesson, right?

Where's the part in which they scream uncontrollably for a full hour about the consequence? Where's the part in which they hurl insults at you and blame you for not getting their task done? Where's the part in which every remaining step of the day produces fresh outbursts and crying and excuses and task-definition and consequences and more fruitless escalation? What's left when being with this child is a miserable, frustrating, painful existence for the rest of the family?

I could only be talking about Julian, of course. Gabriel by personality could easily be worse, but Gabriel's much more rational and calculated even at the height of conflict. Partly age, partly temperament. Julian falls into a seizure of victimhood, screaming out of control about the injustice, whereas Gabriel's fury is usually more directed -- harder to deal with, but Julian's way is still annoying beyond belief, and lasts a long, long time, wearing everyone out. In most ways, age 5 is fun with him, but his tantrums, if you can call these tantrums, have never been worse. What happened to my "angel baby" ?

One thing about having three children: your odds of not wanting to strangle all of them at any given moment goes up! Ah, but overall it was a good nothing day.

5/25/09

Not port-a-potty

The most remarkable thing happened today while we were out at the airshow, a public place with no particular accommodations for potty-training toddlers. Especially if you don't know they're potty-training.

Katrina's been doing great at home with going to the little potty on her own, but she won't touch a real toilet. She finally will "flush" my arm, that is, push on my arm while I push the lever, but she won't touch the lever herself. Sitting or being held over a real toilet is out of the question. So she's not ready for full-time underpants, but, no problem. I'm very happy with her progress.

So today to go out to the airshow, we put her in a diaper, as usual. After the hour-long drive, and then another hour of being at the show, she was getting increasingly difficult and grumpy, and I was thinking this trip was a lost cause. She kept saying she wanted to go back to the car and that she wanted to go home and shrieked if anyone talked to her or looked at her.

After settling in to watch the aerobatics, I sent Dave to get some popcorn, hoping that the treat would improve her mood. As soon as he left, she cried, "I want to go pee in the potty!!!"

What potty? We're at an airfield -- all there is is Port-a-Potties. I picked her up and tried to distract her, not sure what to do. I didn't want to tell her to go in her diaper if she didn't want to, but what else to do?

After about 5 minutes of increasing distress on her part, I decided to carry her to the Port-a-Potties, hoping an idea would present itself on the way there. Dave wasn't back yet, so the boys would take care of themselves, I rationalized (and they did, the angels). I tried to get her to go in the grass, she refused. How about here on the gravel? (right next to the potties). No, more crying and furious outraged refusal. I looked around for a bucket or something I could persuade her to sit on, but nothing presented itself. She kept crying for the little potty.

Then I took her into the port-a-potty, all the while calmly telling her there is no little potty, then tried to tell her this is a little potty. Uh-uh, not buying it. I took her diaper off -- completely dry. No wonder. She must really have to go, it'd been hours.

I sat down on the toilet seat and put her on my lap, quite willing to let her pee all over me if that's what it took, but she was outraged. I tried to hold her up in front of the far less intimidating urinal -- she doesn't know who it's for! -- nothing doing. Desperate, I tried to get her to go pee on the floor in front of the urinal -- countless boys already had -- nope. I tried again to get her to go outside -- a good life skill for girls to learn anyway -- nothing doing.

Defeated, I put her diaper back on and figured nature would take care of itself in a few minutes anyway, but I was sick about how upset she was. She didn't want to pee in her diaper, a really good thing, but she was out of options. When we got back to the boys, Dave was there and I tried to tell him what was going on, but suddenly Katrina's crying changed to, "I want to go pee in the grass!" I quickly took her diaper off, but it was too late, she'd started to go in it. I held it up to her while she finished -- it was loaded.

She cried for underpants, but I didn't have any with us -- after all, we're not potty-training outside the home yet, how can we if she won't touch a real toilet? I put another diaper on her, and after getting over that in about 5 minutes, she relaxed a lot. She was in a much much better mood. No wonder!

This is a huge step forward with potty-training. She wants not to go in a diaper, and waits, yay! But we have a big hurdle with what to do when there's no colorful baby potty for her. I know there are all sorts of portable devices, but she's got to learn to use real toilets. I can imagine carrying a potty ring, maybe, for a while, but she won't have anything to do with those either. She also shrieks in horror if I try to hold her in front or over the toilet or to sit on it facing backward. I've tried everything.

Tonight I tried to pretend the potty ring is a motorcycle, sitting on it and pretending to be accelerating and banking and making vroom sounds. Clever, huh? Not clever enough. She was rolling in laughter, but refused to sit on the "motorcycle" with me. Absolutely, positively, no way, not.

Conquering her fear of real toilets -- which is in great part due to her remarkable clumsiness and inability to climb -- is potty-training hurdle #1. I think our best bet is to learn to go on the ground. That's always there. Potty-training hurdle #2 is....well, #2. But today's upsetting episode says we've definitely turned a corner.

5/24/09 Air show

Today we all went to the Watsonville Fly-In and Airshow, something that's been on our calendar for months. It's only happenstance that it capped off an unexpected aviation week in the Doudna household.

It's sort of like a plane rally. People fly their own planes in to show, but the organization also arranges for an air show -- aerobatics by private planes, and some demonstrations by military aircraft. The boys were especially excited to see a "hammerhead" stunt by biplanes, and we weren't disappointed.

First, we walked around looking at the planes, watching some formation flying in the background.




What's wrong with this picture? (Hint: where's the prop?)


Then we parked ourselves on a haybale to watch the show. I sent Dave to get some popcorn in a desperation effort to improve Katrina's attitude, as she was on the verge of ruining the whole day for all of us, once again. In Dave's absence, the answer presented itself (I'll write about that in a different post), so the popcorn was icing on the cake and she was great for the rest of the day.


Who's the photographer? Not Dave, he's next to me. Thank you Gabriel!


It's difficult to photograph aerobatics even with a good camera and a good photographer, but for the record I had to get a few shots. I don't remember seeing, or perhaps appreciating, such stunts before, like flying sideways or practically coming to a halt in the air. The flips and twists and turns and plunging dives are pretty hair-raising too. The boys wanted to see a biplane do a "hammerhead," and got plenty of that.




Then we got to see a Harrier jet. Katrina was terrified of the jet sounds, but I was completely psyched to see these again. I used to see Harriers practice through the breakroom window when I worked at a NASA facility at Moffett Field, but you never get used to the awesome power and stunning feat of hovering.



We decided to leave after the Harrier, as the airshow was almost over anyway and it wouldn't hurt to beat traffic. First, a silly photo.


The boys' chief objective today was to score some toy planes, which they did on the way out. They're thrilled.


Katrina got one too. She loves it, but didn't want to be bothered in the stroller, hence the sour puss.


Then as we were making our way out, there was one last demo. We'd toured this plane on the way in, a massive Air Force C-17 transport plane. Its sheer size is stunning, it is absolutely enormous. (I can't stand the non-word "ginormous," but really, if anything is ginormous, this is it.)





Who cares watching this fat dinosaur fly anyway, right? We didn't need to stick around for a demo of this lumbering monster after seeing all those tiny nimble planes doing gymnastics in the sky.

Well, we were stunned. It took off in a very short distance on the runway, and at about a 45-degree angle. Then it banked and swooped and maneuvered like nobody's business -- I swear it looked like it was about to do a flip. This was positively awesome to watch. I wish we'd been at a better vantage point; we were on our way out and so couldn't see the runway, but this thing is so big you just can't miss it.



I heard the announcer say that they couldn't put the flaps down while it's on the runway, or the flaps would direct the exhaust to the runway and blow out the runway (something like that).




And how slowly it can go too is just as amazing, like it's almost suspended in air. Despite the incredible skill and bravery -- and balance! -- of the aerobatics pilots, bending this behemoth around the sky was far more impressive.

In fact, just looking around the show, I was much more interested in the vintage fighter planes than the regular privately-own planes. It seems I have developed a new fondness for military aircraft.

We took the back way home, which included a fun unpaved (though smooth and easy) road. Definitely no need for DVDs or snacks in the car; this is plenty entertaining. If you stay awake that is; Katrina dozed off and the boys had a grand time asking Dad about how to drive over bumps.


I'm so glad tomorrow is a day off, because that's exactly what we're going to do with it.

5/24/09

5/23/09 A bomber day

I took the boys to tour the WWII bombers this morning, and they were pretty psyched about it.

The tour involved climbing a ladder into a hatch in the front of the plane, then moving to the back and climbing out the way we went in on Wednesday. The very cool nose section of the plane was visible, but roped off, so I'm extra-glad I got to see it up close (and in flight!). Julian was scared at first, but got over it pretty quickly.

First, I had to fill in a photo I hadn't gotten on Wednesday: my "seat" during takeoff, if you can call it that. The wood on the ground was the seat, the metal plate was my back, and you can see the lap belt tucked inbetween. There's a top turret right in the middle of this area (the sandaled leg is standing on it), so the two "seats" are tucked in the corners.


Around the top turret, through the hatch into the bombing bay catwalk. Today the bay's doors were open.


Then into the radio room.



From the radio room to the relatively roomy rear section ("waist," I think) of the plane involves climbing around the ball turret, as this girl demonstrates.


Gabriel and Julian on the job as waist gunners!



An attempt to piece it all together in video.


Hey, the tire is taller than me!


Then on to the other bomber. But first, we had to watch a P-51 flighter plane take off. When too many bombers were getting shot down, these planes started escorting the bombers and protecting them from enemy fighters, greatly improving their outcome.


On to the B-24. I don't know much about this plane; it's certainly taller than the B-17, roomier inside, with a much larger bombing bay and was overall easier to get around. Odd panels on the tail, reminds me of a spaceship!



And, I talked to two more actual veterans, both of whom had flown on the planes. One flew an incredible 37 missions (they were supposed to stop at 25 and it was considered extremely lucky to make it that far uninjured) and the other flew 27. This gentleman was a bombardier with two books to sell, which I didn't hesitate at all to buy both of. Even if they suck, he deserves no less!


This man was featured in the original newspaper article I saw that started all this, and he had flown cooped up in the tiny ball turret. I'm fascinated at how lucid and sharp these men were, both pushing 90. I could have stayed all day to talk to them, but the boys had other ideas.


I'm glad we got there early -- the lines got long, and moved very slowly. But I'm happy for the Collings Foundation that the lines were so long; I heard someone say with relief that this was the first line they'd had all week. It must cost a fortune to keep these old birds going.


I almost bought this sign. Feminism didn't exist in the 1940s, so it's not sexist.


Speaking of sexist, Dave took Katrina to "minastics" this morning, with mixed results. But I was really really happy not to deal with her at the planes. There is absolutely no way to carry a toddler through them, and all the standing and talking and looking at things just wouldn't have worked. She'll get lots of plane time at the airshow tomorrow. (If you detect a ring of guilt for being glad to have the time alone with the boys, you're right.)

The one thing I regretted was not being able to see these cool airplanes taking off or flying. Well, there's lots of videos and more time for that.

We'd spent all morning touring the planes and the boys finally dragged me away, kicking and screaming. But, it was just as well, a terrible headache came roaring back and I napped away the afternoon. I hate that, because we're still nowhere near unpacked or settled in -- we haven't even set up an audio system yet!! But I'm finding the motivation to set up the house very hard to come by. Touring old planes on the other hand -- it's time to live again, I'm tired of being held hostage by the house.

While I and Katrina napped, Dave took the boys to the BMX park, which I'm so glad about. They haven't done that for a while either, and after some encouragement, Julian went on all the mounds and bumps again. He had little fear of it when he was 3, but lately has been pretty hesitant. I wish I could have seen them though.

Later in the afternoon, my headache was a little better, but I really felt the need to exercise. I haven't run for a while, my back might be able to take it....so around 5:30, knowing I was pushing it for dinner, I went to Rancho San Antonio.

As I was starting up one of the first hills, I heard an unusual drone above me...could it be? Suddenly a prop plane cleared the treetops -- could it be? The Army star was under the wings, it had 4 engines, and was the right color. And that sound! I couldn't believe it!! The B-17 was RIGHT OVER ME! I was in a spot that had a view of the hangars and runways at Moffett, so I was right in its flight path. Still, what are the odds I'd be right there at that exact moment? I was thrilled.

A minute later, I rounded a bend, and what did I see in the hazy distance: the B-24. Its strange shape was unmistakable, with the weird tail panels and its fat belly and its dark foreboding black body. The B-17 looks pretty unremarkable to a non-aviation person, as I am, but the B-24 looks truly eerie in the sky. I'd have stopped and said "What the heck is that?!" if I hadn't been crawling around in it earlier today.

I saw the B-17 twice more on my run, once with the P-51 flying right on its tail, just like 65 years ago. I couldn't believe how exciting that was. Then I admonished myself...is this the "war is glory" thing that people fall into? These planes represented the darkest of times, when fear and death and pain were necessary for liberty. There's nothing grand about it. I'm excited by the history of it, making old fuzzy black-and-white footage come alive, but these planes' real purpose is sobering and grim. I feel some guilt at how captivating the horror is, like I'm some sort of macabre voyeur who has absolutely no true concept of the fear or danger or loss or tragedy of war. Maybe it's time I learned a little more about it, beyond the heroes and survivors, and imparted some of that to the people in my house who could actually make a real difference in preventing it someday.

I'm so grateful to the Collings Foundation for some serious excitement and thought-provocation this week.

5/23/09

5/22/09 Wet and dry

Wet boys, dry girl! Swim lessons today for boys, underpants for girl.

Katrina went to Tonya's today in underpants, as an experiment. One wet pants, but three times to the potty upon request and dry the rest of the day. At home, she's adament against going when we suggest it, but she's been getting very consistent about volunteering. Still several major hurdles before we can ditch diapers, but still, terrific progress!

5/22/09

5/21/09 Cooking class

Tonight I attended a Mom's Night Out special cooking class at Whole Foods, my very first cooking class! But it was also a Mom's Night Out, so it was casual and informal and we didn't have to work very hard at all. Maybe I've been watching too much Food Network (and I haven't watched much at all lately), because for some reason I was expecting we'd be under the gun and working hard the whole time. Not at all, and that's exactly what we needed for a night out. We made an appetizer, salad, main course, and a dessert, and I definitely picked up a few tips and a few good recipes.

Ordinarily, a cooking class would have been the highlight of my month, but I can't get my mind off the air-bombing campaigns in the mid-1940s, what these very young men had to do and how they survived it. And now I have yet another perspective from which to imagine it: that of the mothers. When I see a crew list on a 10-man bomber that included a pair of brothers, chills go down my spine.

I've been talking to the boys about bomber planes and why they existed, and am finding it's no easy feat to explain WWII, even in the simplest terms. "Why did the bad man Hitler want to take over the world?" Julian asked, riveted. Gabriel being about numbers had to ask right away when there was a World War I, and then added, "I sure hope there isn't ever a World War Three!" Yup, you and most others, kid. But there are some who are attempting to wage it now anyway.

It's a shame that history was consistently my worst subject in school, because I'm starting to feel like it's the most important subject for me to teach them.

5/21/09