No one was in the mood -- or sync'd up with meals and energy -- to bother with a real outing today. Instead, we continued with the baseball theme and went back to Big 5 to get bats, then to a nearby park for some more baseball practice -- this time, including batting. All the grownups -- including Dad -- took turns pitching to the boys, and then the boys also acted as catcher and fielders too.
Even I had a chance to play, starting with a little catch with Julian, and then it turned into a pretend "game." I pitched to one of the boys, with the other boy acting as an outfielder and Dad as the catcher. If the batter hit the ball, he'd drop the bat and run the imaginary "bases," while the outfielder was supposed to get the ball, throw it to me or Dad the catcher, and we'd try to get the batter "out." In practice, the outfielders always ran with the ball instead of throwing it, and there were no bases and no teams, so the boys always scored runs, but it was still fun to throw the ball to each other and run after each other and yell to them what to do. (I still can't yell, my voice just breaks -- seems it will take quite some time before my entire vocal range recovers from my bronchitis bout.) While we played the baseball "game," Mom & Papa Paul were off appeasing Katrina with swings and minding her in a toddler playground.
Gabriel's real mission today was to learn to solder. He got a radio-controlled car kit for his birthday, that involves some serious assembly. Before he and Dave could really put it together, Gabriel had to re-inventory all the parts he'd scattered all over the place. He did so meticulously, earning a trip to Fry's to get a new soldering iron appropriate for electronics. He tolerated the detour to the park to play baseball, but was anxious to get home to work on this kit. And it wasn't long before indeed, he was soldering components himself.
My real mission, as always, is THE photo-op. It was getting dark by the time I was able to assemble everyone, so unfortunately the best faces happened to be a flash shot and the best-lit photo happened not to have some non-smiling faces, but, at least I got it. We've had enough visits over the years that my photo books and scrapbook pages are becoming necessities to keep track of who was where when!
Bonne Maman and Papa Paul are leaving tomorrow to take their Californian vacation up north, with a rented BMW convertible (Mom's dream for her 70th birthday), and a few days at a B&B in Napa. I'll be sad to see them go, but I can't deny them paradise!
Been awfully busy! With Mom & Paul here, there's a whole lot of doing...well, not that much actually. But hanging around, cooking, and playing can be very time-consuming anyway. And lots of fun.
Yesterday, believe it or not, our big outing was all (minus Dave, who was at home in bed with a fever) to a Subaru dealer to check out the new Outback. Mom & Paul are considering one, and I'd like a fallback plan for when that tree falls on my car. The kids approved. (Try as I might, I haven't found the right tree in San Jose to fall on my car yet.)
After the car dealer, we went to Big 5 Sporting Goods, and Papa Paul got all 3 kids baseball mitts!
We played a little in our weed-choked front yard. Our poor boys have almost no experience catching or throwing, but Paul gave them a much-needed lesson.
I sort-of played with Katrina, but she mostly had her own ideas about how to throw, mostly behind her. I'm not much better. Still, we both had a great time. I'd much rather play catch with her than go shopping.
Today we did a little surprise party for Bonne Maman. She's here to celebrate her upcoming 70th birthday next month, so of course a cake and presents were in order. No sense waiting, and this way we have the cake for tomorrow too! With Papa Paul's help, we pulled off the surprise.
The kids had posed for some special birthday photos, which made it into a fridge magnet and onto a card they did for her.
The other big event around here was Gabriel losing his first upper tooth (his 3rd overall). This thing has been hanging by a thread for a few days, so we knew it was coming. French toast did the trick.
This afternoon, some more "catch" was called for. Every boy should play ball with their grandmother -- especially this one. You think you know someone...I had no idea my mother was so good at throwing and catching! But, like her youngest grandchild and youngest granddaughter, she too grew up with two older brothers and played ball a lot as a kid. Even at (almost) age 70, it shows.
The mitts are a HUGE hit, the boys have been playing with them a lot.
Ironically, we've rarely made use of our yards like this, and are doing so just as we're closing on on actually landscaping it. Saturday, Dave and I met with a landscape designer who presented us with a complete plan for the entire property that is fabulous. I am beside myself. We might actually go from being the neighborhood eyesore to being the neighborhood gem. We could potentially get it done by this summer, and then the whole place will go from being a decade-long thorn in my side to a little slice of paradise. As for the baseballs...well, with all this practice, soon they'll outgrow our space and have to move to a real park anyway.
Everybody's off work/school/childcare tomorrow except me, but I'm taking the day anyway -- any time with grandparents here is too precious to spend at work!
And now I must go sprinkle some fairy dust and drop some cash on our whistling, lisping firstborn.
I was already feeling a little put out about Valentine's Day for the kids. All three of them had parties at school, which mean getting Valentine's (or Valentine's-makings), and getting them to make them. In our house, "making" Valentine's means writing From and To on a store-bought chintzy little fold-over thing with some stickers inside it, closing it, and tucking an extra sticker inside.
For Katrina, it's even simpler -- according to her, girls can't draw Ks, so she wouldn't even write K on the "From" part of her valentine's. And for (private) preschool, they're not supposed to address the "To:", nor bring food. I did her Valentine's, and this was pretty fast and easy.
But for regular (public) school, Valentine's is a big deal. Teachers send home a list of all names in the class, since if a child wants to pass out valentines, it must be to the whole class. Parents are reminded that the child has to bring in their class valentines. Kids make valentines for the parents in school. On the big day, the class has a party.
That's already out of control. Getting the valentines -- never mind making them -- is an errand that eats up precious time for working parents. Getting the boys to do them was another big pain. Julian didn't mind it, but he still needed supervision and help. Gabriel refused altogether at first, but pulled off a quick effort last night.
But tonight, I couldn't believe how much candy and junk food the boys both came home with from the party and valentine's exchange. It was stunning. A valentine isn't just a card now -- it's a bag filled with popcorn, cookies and candy; it's a box of chocolate basketballs, a box of candy hearts, a brownie, Kit-Kats, chocolate hearts and lollipops. I'm sure Gabriel and Julian's crummy little sticker went over well.
I hate to sound like a love scrooge, but the effort of getting valentine's and getting the boys to do them was already enough of a pain. But when they come home with heaps of candy and crap, it almost teeters on being a problem.
I'd like Valentine's Day to go back to being a personal thing, in which you make and give someone a Valentine because you really want to tell them something -- not a serious sugar haul that's built into the school curriculum. But what kind of curmudgeon dares suggest to an elementary school that they stop celebrating a day that's supposed to celebrate love?
Kinda late to blog tonight....I spent most of the evening poring over cookbooks, reading recipes, checking ingredients, making shopping lists, and baking some yummy scones. Pretty out of control! Just because Mom & Paul will be here for 4 days, does that mean I have to start a restaurant?! I guess so! I remind myself of beginning swimmers: they put in far, far more effort than necessary.
Ironically, despite all this culinary indulgence, it was pizza for dinner tonight.
Gabriel is on a tear lately, being exceptionally rude, defiant, and insolent when something doesn't go his way. Dave and I come down fast and hard on him, but he always stands his ground and continues retorting, escalating situations that start as a minor conflict into all-out war.
It's hard to describe exactly what he says that's so obnoxious -- but yesterday, he put a small sample in writing. I forget what prompted him to write this -- something about having to finish homework before he could play I think -- but just about every sentence is one we hear frequently, and often just after some or other consequence has been doled out (loss of allowance, dessert or whatever). Kids are supposed to stop when a consequence is given, but as usual, Gabriel doesn't follow the kid-manual, and instead it only spurs him on.
Surprisingly, he includes Julian in his demands, hence the "us":
Lessons for Bad People
1. Treat others the way you want to be treated. (something he spits out often when I sternly tell him he may not be rude to me. Pointing out the way he's now treating me only results in a loud, angry repetition.)
2. If you take away a toy from us, you will get something taken away, too. (another common response to a warning about getting something taken away)
3. Listen to us!
4. If you take away a toy from us and you tell us when we can get it back, you must give us the toy(s) back when you said, no matter what we do afterward.
5. Shut Up!!!!! ** (unfortunately, also not uncommon, but anything this flat-out rude results in an instant pants-down smack, which *still* doesn't end the conflict)
READ BEFORE COMPUTER TIME(guess he lost computer time or something)
Name David Doudna
Ah, my dear firstborn son. I do love him so. He has such a strong, unshakable personality. I can never help but to admire his toughness, even when I'm furious with him. But lately, he's really been a pain in the ass.
Nowadays many companies mix "sick time" and "vacation time," and mine is just like this. It all gets lumped up into "PTO" (personal time off) time -- great if you're healthy and would rather spend sick time vacationing, but lousy if you (or your family) gets sick a lot. On the whole, we're on the healthy side, so at first glance, it's a win.
Another new phenomenon is the concept of "forced PTO." Companies shut down and force you to take the shutdown time as PTO. Around Christmastime, that doesn't matter that much for many people, though as a single person I hated it. I liked working around Christmastime and using my vacation time when I wanted to (like when it was warmer and airports were less crowded).
But now, companies, including mine, have two forced shutdowns a year. This means 10 days of your vacation or sick time, you must take around Christmastime, and now, July 4th also. When you're a new employee, that means that half your vacation/sick/PTO/whatever schedule is decided for you.
As it happens, I'll likely be taking time off around Christmas and July 4th anyway. But what if I wanted to take it another time? What if something were going on with the rest of the family that made that time not ideal? I hate that. It sounds very "entitled" -- after all, I have a relatively cushy job as an engineer, with a lot of autonomy and physical comfort. Still, it's hard not to lament the old days when companies fell all over you to keep you happy. Two forced shutdowns a year never happened during the dot-com boom.
Katrina had a horrible coughing fit last night, and then a slight temperature this afternoon at preschool, causing them to call Dave out of work (they don't have my work number yet). She can't go to school tomorrow, but I have my first important conference call, and I have a lot of PTO planned for grandparents visit this weekend, then a ski/snow trip in March. And, apparently, very little PTO that I can decide for myself when to use. If I have to stay home with a sick child, that's a precious PTO day. Dave's company is far more generous -- only one shutdown a year, and separate vacation/sick time. Still, he's still the primary family breadwinner, and he can't absorb all the time off for sick children. It will be a careful calculus every time anyone has so much as a sniffle around here.
Fortunately, despite a slightly runny nose, Katrina was running around happily and normally tonight. I was very relieved. Working-mom guilt kicks in hard when your toddler is sick and you can't go home...well you can but there's no need because Dad's there....you still miss her. As I drove (straight!) home after work, I looked forward to getting home and finding everyone there, as Dave had picked up the boys. That's SO much nicer than picking everyone up and walking in the door with them!
So I'm going to work tomorrow, and Dave will stay home with Katrina, except for the doctor's trip that is. Minor temperature and runny nose aren't enough for that, but the accompanying hives bug me. I'll be anxious to get back home to her tomorrow.
I might have made a mistake by telling Katrina a story about Cousin Remi. But all the kids love hearing stories about their cousins, and Remi is full of funny ones.
Last summer, my mother reported, my niece Remi, who is naturally athletic and a confident climber, climbed high up into a tree at my Mom & Paul's country house in Pennsylvania. Too high -- she couldn't get back down. Her brother Aidan tried to get to her, but couldn't. I think my sister did too, but couldn't (I forget). Finally, Papa Paul came to the rescue, and climbed up high enough to help Remi down.
Somehow, I related the story about Remi climbing up the tree to Katrina. I don't remember why, but it was just relevant enough at the time, and I thought she'd find it amusing. I told it to her as little more than a passing comment, as we were shopping at Trader Joe's yesterday. Katrina was riveted and pounded me with questions as I pondered rising beef prices.
"Did Cousin Remi get into a tree...and get STUCKED?!" "Cousin Remi climbed a tree?" "Did she get STUCKED?!" "Cousin Remi climbed the tree and couldn't get back DOWNED?!" "Did Cousin Remi cry?" "Was Cousin Remi scared when she got STUCKED?!" "Did Remi climb way way way up HIGH and couldn't get DOWNED?!" "Cousin Remi cried when she was STUCKED way up high?" "Did Remi get scared when she was STUCKED?!" "Did Cousin Remi climb way way up HIGH?" "Cousin Remi was scared when she couldn't get back DOWNED?" "Cousin Remi was STUCKED in the TREE?!"
My initial storytelling about two other people trying to rescue Remi only fueled the fire.
"Cousin Aidan couldn't climb up to Remi?" "Cousin Remi was STUCKED up too high?" "Did Cousin Remi cry for Cousin Aidan?" "Was Cousin Aidan scared when he went to get Remi?" "Cousin Aidan couldn't climb up HIGH NUFF?!" "Cousin Remi was too high?" "Cousin Remi was STUCKED way up too high where Aidan couldn't go?" "I love Cousin Aidan so much Mommy" "Cousin Aidan tried to get Cousin Remi?" "Cousin Remi was too stucked up too high?"
I assured her that Papa Paul saved Remi and that everyone was fine.
"Papa Paul climbed way up high and got Cousin Remi?" "Papa Paul SAVED Remi?" ....etc
In fact, I told her, trying to make light of it, it was so silly that later, Mom & Papa Paul's 6-month-old kitten got stuck in the same tree, and Papa Paul had to climb up again to rescue the kitty!! Papa Paul had to climb up twice!
Uh-oh. Big mistake.
"Did the kitty get up in the tree and get STUCKED?!" "Did Papa Paul climb way up high to get the kitty?" "Did the kitty cry and cry?" "Was the kitty scared when...."
I'll spare you gentle readers from the remaining half-hour of the exact same conversation.
This morning, as I was dropping Katrina off at preschool, the episode was still on her mind. "Mommy...I'm not going to get stucked in a tree. I'm not a very good climber."
Between needing to tidy up a tornado-ridden house for the cleaners coming tomorrow, and not being very productive yesterday, this Sunday was decidedly a day of work.
When we remodeled, we put in washer & dryer hookups downstairs, for a "supplemental" stack washer/dryer. Once we moved in, that seemed excessive and we were burnt out on little luxuries (even though the expense was in the infrastructure -- the appliance itself won't cost that much). So we haven't installed one -- but now that all laundry is relegated to weekends, I'm wishing we did have an extra one. Our upstairs laundry was running almost constantly trying to catch up this weekend!
Speaking of laundry, Dave discovered during my trip to NYC that laundry is a great "gateway" chore for kids. He wasn't sure whose pants were whose, so he got the boys to pick out their own pants, fold them, and put them away. Brilliant! Turns out, it's pretty easy for kids to pick out their own clothes from a heap of clean laundry, fold them (crudely), and put them away.
So today I put two baskets of clean clothes in the boys' room and said "have at it, guys!" The enticement of computer time helped, but it got done -- pants, shirts, underpants, socks. Shirts are confusing because of hand-me-downs, and the clothes in their closet end up more heaps than stacks, but, whatever. It bugs me how easy our kids have it with doing almost no household chores, and now that Gabriel's 8, that's getting serious. So getting them to put away their own clothes is a great step. Even Katrina likes folding laundry! (though she's too young to expect to plow through a whole basket.)
I did get to spend some actual time with everyone today, even if much of it was getting them to take care of other life-related duties: valentine's for (three!) upcoming parties, thank-you notes, birthday cards. I was struck again at the difference between my two sons: Julian had a huge heap of Valentine's to do, over 30 (they have to do it for the whole class if at all), and Gabriel just had 6 thank-you notes to write. Julian plunged in, and pretty much plugged at it without stopping until he was done. Gabriel played around, hummed, tapped his pencil on the table, stared at the ceiling, procrastinated and had to be reminded and nudged numerous times. Gabriel has unmatchable powers of focus and concentration when he chooses to unleash them, but he does so only on certain things, and birthday thank-yous aren't on the short list. Julian, overall the putzier of the two boys for most things, is a dream to work with on projects.
I took Julian and Katrina to the Y this morning while I attended a packed Zumba class, and returned to find Dave mowing our weeds and Gabriel playing with his new Nerf gun (bought with birthday money). A photo-op, finally!
(A future serial killer in the making?)
(The absence of a closeup of Julian isn't because of middle-child syndrome, it's because he runs away when I try, just to annoy me.)
One thing about my new work schedule: it sure makes Saturday an important day. It was before too, but now Saturdays aren't just for fun. It's when I should catch up on errands and things the house and kids need, laundry, grocery-shopping, cleaning up....if I could that is. This weekend, a lot of that will have to spill over into Sunday too.
Last night (Friday night) the kids were on a sleepover, and Dave and I had a nice grownup dinner -- with wine, dessert, and complete sentences -- a good way to top off a decidedly grownup week. But though my bronchitis bout is nearly over, I was awakened numerous times last night with horrendous coughing fits, forcing me to swig some Tussionex around 5:30am. (That's my super-duper-uber prescription cough medicine.) It knocked the cough flat, but knocked me out too. So much for the rest of the day, despite all its new demands.
At least I got something accomplished today: I took Julian to Target so he could pick out new underpants. That had to do for bonding motherhood moments today too.
Another torn day. Work itself is interesting and challenging, if in a tense and grim environment. Home is .... well, home, it's like Oz compared to Kansas, filled with life and noise and clamor and energy and trouble. But the most time I get with the kids is the worst time of the day -- right after we all get home and I'm at my busiest. And that's with leaving work at 4:30!
I know I'll adjust...the 3-week rule is always in effect. Give any change a 3-week cycle to get used to, and let the big problems reveal themselves, and tackle those. Today, though each component by itself is good, the combination of everything is overwhelming to a crush point. It seems like all it will take is a dentist's appointment to throw everything off.
And no photos of the kids. That by itself will make this blog worth dropping. If only I could!
Gabriel asked today, "Why is Valentine's Day such a big deal?" I explained that it's about love. He answered quickly, "I think it should be about peace, not love."
Then he added that Valentine's Day was more for girls than boys, because they were more into the love stuff. "Oh really?" I asked, thinking back to his father's courtship. "Yeah, they're always writing hearts and stuff." Then he added with dismay, "Katrina's going to do that someday too." "Well," I consoled, "maybe she'll be writing hearts to you." That brightened him up: "I guess that's OK then."
I'm exhausted. The cough medicine I have to take at night keeps me awake, so I wake up dragging and in need of many more hours of sleep. I absolutely hate going to work like that. If I'm exhausted because of medicine, then I need sick time -- but on my second day of work?
Work itself is mostly interesting so far, though it'd be a lot easier to do if I weren't so completely wrung out first thing in the morning. Then there's the guilt and fear about missing the children. My memory of time with them at home seems like a glorious, joyful one, even though I know in real life I often longed for adult company and a good challenging project to sink my teeth into. Ironically, even though Katrina's the one who misses me the least, and her stage of life is the one I miss the least, she's the one I keep thinking of and missing. She's the one I now spend the least time with, because our mad scramble when I get home with everyone doesn't include any time with her at all.
I know from experience that it takes a few weeks to settle into a new routine. Then the glaring thorns and their solutions emerge; the biggest problems will be clear and we'll start tweaking how we work things.
One thing that's not changing: I must leave work at 4:30 -- even ten minutes late is a big penalty in traffic -- and the kids must start the bedtime process at 7:30. The rest of the day can be worked around that.
Back to work! Actually, the day was rather anticlimactic, since I already know everyone. Mostly, I spent the day cleaning out my cubicle and setting up my laptop.
Workplaces have become very very paranoid about sickness -- there are hand-sanitizing stations all over the place, and people acted awkward about handshakes -- so my persistent cough seems very antisocial. But this cough will last for weeks, I can't stay home that long. It's not like I have a cold. The paranoia about disturbing people, and the difficulty in talking more than a few sentences without my voice cutting out and bursting into a fresh fit of coughs, complicated the day.
Fortunately we've become well-practiced at our routine, so getting dinner on the table close to on time (6:15), and getting kids to bed on time (lights off 8:00 without fail!) went pretty smoothly.
Still, I have no idea how I'm going to keep momentum on any other projects I have going, like landscaping or some photo and framing projects. But if motherhood has taught me anything, it's that you keep learning and getting better at the juggle. I'll dig even deeper and find time for the rest of my life, somehow.
I said I'd write about Gabriel's party yesterday, though it's so out of my head already it's hard to get back into it. Very low-key, very entertaining for the kids, and with the time and people constraints, made for a very easy party. They did gymnastics with Coach Gary (many of us knew him when he taught at the Cupertino Parks & Rec) for 45 minutes, then 45 minutes of party time.
The gymnastics was fun -- we had the whole place to ourselves, and the boys got to try some new equipment, including a 40-foot "tumble track" (trampoline. They loved that. First, a walk-through all the equipment, then the tumble track.
After the gymnastics part, Gabriel opened his gifts. He got some truly cool stuff he's looking forward to playing with at home. Meanwhile, the other boys took any object that could possibly be distorted to look like a gun to shoot it at each other (like a birthday hat)
Then, cake time. Or rather, cupcakes diguised to look like a cake. This saves the need for serving and eating utensils, though a spoon or two would have been handy.
A great group, a great size, a nice place -- So far we've scored best on the gymnastics parties!
Today, however, not so much fun. I'm starting my job tomorrow, nerve-wracking enough by itself. I have so so much I want to get done at home, but I'll have to figure out how else to do it.
One good thing came out of my absence last week: Dave had to get the boys to help sort their jeans after they came out of the wash, because he can't tell whose is whose. Then he had the boys fold their jeans and put them again. HMMM!! We're onto something here! Tonight I showed the boys how to sort their jeans (they claimed they didn't know), how to fold so it fits in the closet right, and then we moved on to shirts. There will come a day when they're all doing their OWN laundry!
Helping the boys help me fold laundry was the only good thing I have to say about running 127,000 loads today.
Gabriel's birthday party -- and birthday -- was today! We had a fun time at a gymnastics place, a nice low-key party with 6 friends and one brother. More on that later.
The real surprise of the day was a last-minute offer of two Sharks tickets, and after a brief wrangling to see if we could pull it off, I decided to take Gabriel. I wasn't feeling particularly energetic, as the persistent cough that comes with the tail end of bronchitis is exhausting, but, how could I pass up hockey with my birthday boy?
We had a great time. I was mostly able to remember what goes on in hockey games and describe it to Gabriel semi-competently. A huge tub of popcorn smoothed out any lapses in attention he might have had, and he lasted easily until the game end.
Our home team won, and scored 5 times -- a great way to spend your first hockey game!
This morning, Gabriel asked if I was bringing cupcakes to his class for his birthday. This is still a common, if surprising, practice, but it's one I decided to give up a while ago. I can't handle a family party, friends party and class party for all 3 kids -- that's 9 cakes! The class party is the obvious one to drop, especially since Julian can't really have one.
Still, today was my last day at home without kids before I start my job, I could have bought cupcakes and gotten them to his class in time. But it was my last day at home without kids before I start my job! I had things to do! And why was he telling me about it that morning?! On paper I had no reason to feel guilty about it, but in practice, I hate disappointing Gabriel.
I'm glad I skipped the cupcakes though, because I spent that time zipping down to South San Jose to pick up my newly cleaned computer -- no more viruses, spyware or malware taking it over. It runs so much better, it's amazing. It had been bogged down by processes sneaking in and running in the background for a while, but suddenly that got out of control and it would not boot at all. I'm thrilled, this guy fixed it fast and cheaply ($100). I still want to buy another computer, but the urgency has been greatly reduced.
Tomorrow is Gabriel's birthday and his birthday party. I'm buying his cake this year -- just one! Family and friends party on the same day, no class party -- now we're talking!
I finally uploaded my NY photos and videos. No one photo in particular stands out, but this is a nice rare group shot (That's my sister on the left, my brother on the right, and my sister's kids, taken at my Dad's house in upstate NY just before leaving to go back to the city.)
Back in the swing of things...sort of. My computer was acting sick before I left for NY, but upon my return, it wouldn't even boot into Windows. I handed it to a young tech today, with the promise that it would likely be cleaned up and recovered tomorrow. Still, I need a new computer anyway. Clearly, I jinxed this one by starting to look for its replacement. Anyway, for now, no blog photos (yes I know it's possible on a Mac, but iPhoto is a polar opposite to the simple JPEG browser I use...not my deal, and it'd take too long).
It was nice to be back in family life today.. until another eye-popping blowout/fight with Gabriel tonight. This one actually got started after the boys were in bed, lights-out. How can that happen??
10 minutes after lights-out, Julian came downstairs crying and said Gabriel had punched him, while he was in bed. Dave and I went right up and interrogated the suspect, who confessed to his crimes, but indignantly claimed he had a good reason. I wasn't interested in hearing a "good reason" to punch someone who's in lying in bed in the dark. Lost allowance, favorite toy put away, strict warning. These attacks, I'm sorry to say, aren't a new thing, and they're something we've decided to come down very very hard on. Done, right?
Not in Gabriel-land. 10 minutes later, Julian came crying downstairs again. This time, Gabriel had grabbed his pillow out from under his head, and pinched him hard. Dave and I both went back upstairs, and again Gabriel defiantly defended his actions, and challenged me: "You can't do anything to me, Mom!" I told him to turn over and pull his pants down. I'm sorry, attacking your brother twice in bed in the dark totally deserves that. Afterward, he sat up and raised his arm, threatening to punch me, hurling insults and claiming that we owed him all our money. I got in his face and told him next time, it'd be 4 spanks. (But when will he really let loose and punch me?)
Gabriel screamed at the top of his lungs for the next 20 minutes, blood-curdling shrieks intended to incite us. But he was now alone in the room, with Julian being given the huge privilege of sleeping on our bed -- for safety, quiet, provocation elimination, and to show Gabriel that he just handed Julian a big privilege. After 25 minutes I went in and told him that every minute past lights-off time that he was still up turned into 2 minutes of lost playtime or computer time. He was finally in a contrite state, so wound up and upset that he didn't want me to leave, which he showed by continuing the demands and insults. But he'd finally had enough and agreed angrily to be quiet, but only for 20 minutes. Fell asleep, we put Julian back in, done. Whew.
By now I've learned to shrug at the stories of "just take away his allowance/favorite toy/big privilege and that's it." That's IT? If only. He blames Julian for the loss, and attacks him again, having nothing to lose.
Other than dealing with a viral computer and a virulent son, I'm also contending with a bronchitis that gets a little worse every day. Progress, of sorts, I guess! My hoarse half-voice took the kids aback, as they hadn't seen me in a week and I returned to them clearly altered. Gabriel said earlier tonight he hoped I'd get better soon, which he said with sufficient urgency that I guessed it was more about his world being rocked than mine. He showed the same unnerve the last time my back went out -- it really concerned him. The same kid who practically spits in my face after the humiliating experience of a bare-bottom spanking...seems this tough cookie needs his mommy. Needs his mommy to be even tougher than he is, that is.
Just drove back from upstate NY this afternoon with my brother & girlfriend, after visiting my Dad Saturday and Sunday. Saturday was a pretty packed day, with lots of highs and lows, but none more fun than my first foray into hockey.
My nephew Aidan takes hockey lessons, and loves skating and practicing hockey. My brother-in-law clears patches of ice on a pond, and he and Aidan practice hockey all the time. Aidan has gotten pretty good! I joined them on Saturday while they were playing and eventually took over my brother-in-law's hockey stick.
Despite my borrowed skate a size too large, and my complete ineptitude at puck handling with a stick that's a foot too long -- WHAT FUN. I thought I'd just give it a try for a few minutes and ended up "playing" for about an hour. It was so fun. My nephew got a big kick out of scoring on me, and I told him he had a whole closet full of hat tricks now.
My brother showed up with his video camera and took this little clip, before joining us for a "game." Aidan and I had fun skating around my brother, and I think Aidan had a great time playing with his aunt and uncle (even if we're no match for his Canadian father who actually plays hockey).
I've never played any team sports or had any drive to (hmm ok except volleyball, briefly), but hockey is G-R-E-A-T. It's completely different skating with a stick in your hand and your eye on the puck. I loved it. And it was so fun spending so much time with my sweet nephew.
I do miss my children, and from what Dave tells me, Katrina misses me (awww....poor thing!), but it was a rare treat to be just an aunt (or is that, uncle?) and not a mother at the same time.
I'm back in NYC now and will be for 2 days before returning home late Wednesday.
For years, my default way of un-spinning my mind at night was to bore myself to sleep by thinking about how to re-do the boys' closet. This habit far predates Katrina, though her closet got tacked into my dull-thoughts repertoire. Both kids' rooms closets are small and need to be carefully thought-out to make the best use of them. The one hanging pole they both had was a total waste.
And today, the problem was finally solved. The closet installation guy arrived today with the kids' new closets, and I'm thrilled. One of the most un-glamorous, drudgerous tasks in "doing" a house is finally done!
This job wasn't really about closets though. It's about taking back over spaces downstairs that have been overrun by toys. In order to move kids' toys to their small rooms, clothing-storage space needs to move into the closet. For years, their closets have been prime real estate that were barely used, except for storing things like big pillows or a Pak'n'Play.
No longer! The boys' closet.
Katrina's closet. (The smaller basket is a sort of lark; it's for her to do what she wants with -- scarves, dress-up stuff, animals whatever.)
I was really counting on LOVING the deep baskets for laundry, though I knew there was some risk I wouldn't. Guess what. LOVING the deep baskets for laundry. I'm very very glad to get laundry baskets off the floor in the main part of the room. We'll see how this works in practice, because it does create an extra step of pulling everything out of the built-in baskets and into a laundry basket. Ooh, god forbid I do one extra step with laundry (no, really).
Right away, I populated the boys' shelves with their winter clothes. All of them. ALL of them?! Wow, when you look at it like this, no wonder I do so much laundry. This is all their pants, and all their long-sleeved shirts (Julian on the left, Gabriel on the right). And that's with having bought Gabriel a bunch of jeans recently. Socks, underwear, T-shirts, shorts and pajamas are still in their old dressers (to be replaced with one dresser for both), but this is the extent of both their day-to-day wear. It didn't look like so little until it was out there. Katrina doesn't have much more, though she gets a lot of hand-me-downs. Clearly, I'm not a shopper.
This is the first link in a long chain of events to take back over the downstairs space -- and give the kids their own defined spaces that they each need. Next: desks for everyone.
Julian just got a poster project to do for school (on top of regular homework and reading), due next Monday, about him. It's akin to Gabriel's "Star Of the Week," in which one kid a week is highlighted in class, though it's already laid out for him. With Gabriel, I dread this sort of extra project. He drags his heels and takes some motivating, though once he gets going it's not so bad.
With Julian, I dread it only insofar that he insists on working on it, even when he's supposed to be setting the table, having dinner, or wrapping up and getting ready for bed. It's all I can do to drag him away. He relishes and eats up these projects.
Never does he shout at the top of his lungs "HOMEWORK IS SO STUPID!!!" like Gabriel does. Instead: "What's next, Mommy?" "Time to wrap up and get ready for bed, Julian." "NO! I'm working on my poster! I have to do this now!"
And to think, before kindergarten I was bracing myself to drag him through schoolwork, not having to hold him off.
Our boys of all kids will probably tolerate 30 kids in their class better than most, given how independently they work, and that their basic academic and social skills are pretty solid. I dread it completely anyway, especially for Julian's sake. He loves teachers and loves sitting and absorbing lessons from them on interesting facts (he's still all about penguins) -- will he be able to ask questions and get into a penguin-world with his teacher if his teacher is completely overrun with 30 6-year-olds? It's unthinkable.
Maybe the teachers will have to give the kids more independent projects and less mind-numbing redundant homework. I'd be for that.
The perfect storm: a windy, rainy day, school's out, and the cleaners are coming. That means all 3 kids at home all day, we have to be out of the house for at least 3 hours, and no playing outside at all. Great.
Often I'm not quite sure when the cleaners arrive, which means I'm not quite sure when they're done either. They're supposed to arrive at 10:30, but it can vary. When I'm working, it'd doesn't matter. When I'm home with all 3, it really does.
Last time the cleaners came on a day off from school, we got home as they were wrapping up. This is such a pain -- we can't be inside at all without really getting in their way. They mop the floors near the door last (so that they don't leave footprints), adding to the difficulty of getting home when they're still there.
Today the cleaners solved that dilemma: they arrived at 9:30. Early. Way early. We so weren't ready -- we were all upstairs, none of the kids had had breakfast, I had just barely gotten dressed (hey, it's a holiday!) and was still tidying up upstairs. Mad scramble!
The cleaners started upstairs, and I managed to get the kids fed and ready and into the car before the cleaners moved downstairs. Quick email check before zooming out: oh wow, Gabriel's been invited to a last-minute rainy-day playdate, in 15 minutes. The boys started fighting this morning even before their eyelids were completely open -- by 8:30 am, Julian had already been punched twice -- so I was very grateful to have a respite from fraternal battery.
I dropped Gabriel off, making a note of how high the stack of favors is getting that I owe this friend. Zipped off to the gym and gladly deposited the other two in the gym's childcare. They like going to the old gym, despite the much smaller, darker and truly inadequate childcare as compared to the Y -- but they get to watch videos, so they like it.
We were all home and lunched and ready to hang by 1:40, the cleaners done and gone. The day started looking up right then.
Katrina is so funny about rain. As soon as she see it raining, she yelps for joy. Then she makes a beeline for her rain jacket, demands noisily that it get zipped for her, puts on her boots, and zooms outside. It can be truly difficult to wrest her away from her puddle-jumping, no matter how cold or wet or dark it gets. All kids like splashing in puddles of course, but the boys were never so adamant about it as Katrina is.
We had two friends over for brunch, a wonderful couple with a beautiful house and yard that they did themselves. Partly, I was after some landscaping advice, but I so enjoy the fun company, good ideas on interior decoration, commiseration on remodeling -- and understanding about parents with Alzheimer's.
Cathy's mother Norma was, until very recently, my Dad's lady love, his minute-by-minute companion, his touchstone, his guide and confidante in the strange world that is dementia. Few people find such closeness and connection in their lives as my Dad did with Norma. Alzheimer's brought them together, and ultimately, tore them apart. But they had an overall happy 18 months in their own special world together. They didn't know each other's names, but were rarely seen without their hands tightly clasped together, always sitting together, chatting, talking in ways that only they understood, guiding each other through the day. They're apart now, and don't exactly remember each other, but we know Dad feels the loss deeply. Norma has asked, "Where is my friend?" but if she misses him it's internalized in a way she can no longer express either. Thankfully Norma has not declined at Dad's pace, and she is still contently living at the very nice assisted living facility where they met.
I can thank Dad for indirectly introducing us to Norma's two wonderful daughters though. Interesting, smart, active women, with really nice supportive and terrific husbands. Though my father is no longer living with their mother, I hope we will remain friends for a long long time.
Though Gabriel lamented that we only invited playdates for us and not him, the kids were overall surprisingly good and amused themselves peacefully -- Katrina especially -- while we acted like grownups for an afternoon.
This is what Sunnyvale looked like about 9am this morning, at the community center where the kids do gymnastics. The fog was really interesting, and I'm sure there were real photo-ops around the heritage barn and orchard, if I were a real photographer, but my hamfisted attempts yielded only this.
The photo-op was short-lived though -- by the time the gymnastics classes were over, the sun was burning through the fog.
We're sure doing our part to turn around consumer spending these days. Today we met with and hired a landscape designer. Later we chose and ordered a dining room table and chairs (FINALLY!). I'm closing in on family room furniture: rug, sofa, chairs, maybe coffee table. Last week I ordered the kids' closets, and am looking for desks, bookshelves and a dresser that will all fit in the boys' room. The boys finally have enough jeans, socks and underpants, and all the kids have a place to put their jackets and knapsacks and school stuff. I just had an electrician replace my undercabinet kitchen lights (they're fluorescent now instead of the brutally hot Xenon), and move one of them so I can install an undercabinet radio/CD player, which I also bought. I've been combing through our old artwork and photo projects and deciding what to keep and what to reframe, and buying frames and mattes accordingly. I even bought myself some new shoes, something that hasn't happened in a few years.
One thing I haven't bought yet (that I will soon) is a kitchen stand mixer. A kind friend loaned me hers, and I'm having a blast with it. The boys helped me make some oatmeal-maple scones tonight, and they love using the mixer. I had to make sure they didn't turn it up to turbo-speed and blast flour all over the kitchen though.
Unemployment is expensive -- not so much because of loss of income, but because of all the time I have to spend money. That will turn around pretty soon, but meantime, I'm glad that I'm making substantial progress on furnishing our house.
Is 2010 over yet? This has really been a hard year so far.
My Dad is back in the hospital tonight, vomiting blood inexplicably. I'm really bummed about the drastic class size increase in our schools -- Julian's class will have 30 kids in it, as compared to 20 when Gabriel was in first grade. Despite devoting much of my day to bringing my house up to par, it seems I spend a ton of time and money and still can't look at it and feel done. I'm nervous about balancing work and life starting next month.
But none of this compares to the horrendous images coming from Haiti. How on earth can I complain about anything in my cushy, comfortable, affluent life when so many people are suffering so intensely. To add to that guilt, suffering goes on all over the world all the time -- and has been in deeply impoverished Haiti for some time -- but it's on our radar now, because of the devastating earthquake and the resulting images all over TV now.
Last week there were little tremors all over California too. Our world is being rocked.
Tonight, the boys went up to get ready for bed at 7:30pm again.
This is unprecedented in our house....we had a general bedtime of 8:30, but many times the process didn't get started until 8:10, and was started half-heartedly, or one kid was allowed to stay up later for some reason.
Not tonight. Rudeness on Gabriel's part led me to set a hard 7:30 deadline for him tonight, as well as putting away his beloved radio-controlled pickup truck for a MONTH for another infraction -- I'm raising the stakes now!
Julian had already earned an earlier bedtime: one minute of ignoring me at the CDC when I say it's time to go turns into 5 minutes of an earlier bedtime. Round down, and everyone goes up at 7:30, aiming for an 8pm lights-out.
This worked so well tonight that I'm going to drop the earlier bedtime as a threat, and instead, start transitioning it to the norm. The boys almost seemed to thrive from the structure, and perhaps the rigid attention we put to it. It means I can't trust them to do anything (like getting undressed) without hawking over them, but to my surprise, they almost seem to prefer that. Maybe it's the novelty, maybe it's the attention, but the bedtime process is a lot less painful too. Less fun, but let's face it, overall it wasn't that fun anyway. I regret having to drop the boys' new independence about taking their own baths, but, too bad. We can get back to that later.
And the boys slept better today too. Still late getting dressed in the morning, but a lot less hassle being reminded. Even if they wake up at 6:30am, going to bed earlier with a calmer bedtime process means more sleep. Tonight lights really were off at 8pm, and not a peep out of them afterward. I don't expect this will continue so easily, but it's definitely a major step in the right direction.
Katrina went to bed even earlier, sort of by accident. She fell off her chair at dinner, and pulled her placemat and her entire dinner on top of her head in the process, collapsing on the ground in a bawling puddle of food and milk. Her hair was matted with milk, and sticky rice had gotten under her shirt, and she shaken and wailing and was just a mess. She'd eaten enough and was so upset that we just took her right up for a bath then and there at 7pm. That's early given our usual habits, but my goodness, she's only three years old. It should be the norm.
And I'm loving the extra time we grownups have in the evening, without being wiped out, and without having to go upstairs numerous times to tell the boys to quit bouncing off the walls or fighting.
Could it be that much of our trouble with children is simply due to insufficient sleep?
Can we possibly keep this up, please? O Sun, will you please please keep setting early so that we don't have to put them to bed when you're shining bright? 'Cause this is totally working!
Parents aren't really allowed to have favorites, though of course we do have preferences for ages, stages, and certain situations.
Today Katrina was our easiest and most agreeable child.
Charming. 13 minutes later, she was still in full swing, but I was able to settle her down about 25 minutes into it.
Though she's outraged about the camera, the screaming is exactly what she was doing before she noticed the camera; the object of her rage just shifts to the camera while it's there. In fact, sometimes the camera gives her a graceful exit: I "concede" by putting it away, and she calms down. Not tonight though. I love how she squeezes her eyes shut as though then the camera can't see her.
I still marvel at the "oh just ignore the tantrum" advice. No one can talk, hear or think during these episodes. 25 minutes of that screaming, folks! That's a very very long 25 minutes!
However, semi-ignoring her -- that is, pretending to ignore her -- did help get her out of it. Or at least, robbed her of fuel to keep it going. But it's not "oh just ignore" -- it's exhausting, labor-intensive, frustrating and very very annoying.
And the family dinner concept? Fiction!
But this was peanuts compared to the blowout with the boys this morning.
We didn't even exactly have the usual problem of the boys not getting dressed this morning. I wanted to avoid that today, so I essentially dressed them. It infuriates me that I have to put socks on my almost 8-year-old, but I swallowed it today to keep them moving.
But Gabriel was in a serious snit about something. He kept hollering -- screaming at Julian if Julian made any sound at all. Julian figured out fast that he could control his brother, and made as many annoying sounds as he could, that were just under the "unacceptable" threshold. Gabriel was shouting, threatening and being unbearable, and I had to tell him to hush up numerous times and remind him he had 2 minutes left to finish breakfast.
When breakfast time was up (neither boy finished), I instructed Gabriel to go straight upstairs to brush his teeth. Instead, he followed Julian into the downstairs bathroom and again started to shout and accuse him, provoking the umpteenth fight.
That defiance pushed me over the edge, and I gave him a (ok, several) sound swat on his crocodile-hide rear end. GO UP STAIRS!!! I fumed. He slipped and fell, and started bawling that he'd hurt his back. Uh-huh. I had to force him upstairs and brush his teeth for him, then he started complaining that he'd swallowed too much toothpaste and his tummy ached. He was crying so hard that he started to cough -- and he does have a slight cough from having been sick the last 2 days -- and cough more, and choke. Then he'd pause and go right back into defiance, insults, refusal, unbelievable rudeness.
Disgusted, I ordered him to get his knapsack and get in the car, and turned my attention to Katrina -- who is the only one who should need any help, since she can't reach or open everything she needs.
Katrina was sweet and cooperative and happily bounded into the car. I strapped her in, wiped off the windows, sat down, started the car...no boys. They were standing inside defiantly, refusing to get in the car. I was livid when I stormed back inside, then shoved them both onto the porch. I threw Gabriel's jacket and knapsack into his arms and said with death dripping from my voice "G E T I N T H E C A R >> NOW!!!<< "
Gabriel was a mess. Bawling and hyperventilating and crying, he had finally conceded. Julian shifted into concern for his brother, since he was so out of control. I had no sympathy at all and focused my attention on driving safely while my blood pressure soared, counting the nanoseconds until I could send my two rats scurrying out of the car. Gabriel carried on and on and on, bawling and complaining, even after I'd dropped him and Julian off. I heard Julian say, "Gabriel, I'll help you walk if you need it." Good riddance.
This month since I'm not working, I've been dropping Katrina at preschool first, then the boys at school, but we were too late today. I gritted my teeth and inched my way through the school traffic, dropped the boys off (on time), then emerged to get Katrina to preschool. I lingered with her, since she was still being sweet and funny and adorable, and my working-parent guilt was taking hold. "Is Dad at work?" she asked. "Dad is always at work, work, work!" Ouch.
But it wasn't over yet.
I drove straight home, and there was a message from the school. "Gabriel's here in the nurse's office." Apparently, a parent saw him standing on line outside his classroom, and he was coughing and crying and still carrying on, so she kindly brought him to the office. No doubt with a very poor opinion of this poor child's mother. (Actually, the poor child's shaken mother also had a very poor opinion of herself at the time.)
I called the office, and to my surprise, the office staffworker I talked to was sympathetic and understanding when my response to her description of Gabriel's plight was an unfeeling, "Uh-huh...I'm not buying it." I explained that he had plenty of energy this morning to yell repeatedly at his brother, and it all turned around when I forced him to brush his teeth -- that he does have a slight cough and he's been out the past two days, but he's not sick anymore. She suggested he hang in the office for about 10 minutes, then she'd send him to class, and see how it goes.
I called about half an hour later, and she said, "He's fine, he went to class, I called his teacher and explained everything." I was very grateful! I also called the CDC to give them background in case Gabriel came up with a tummy-ache, and called again after school to see how he was. "He's in true form," was the answer. In other words, bounding good health and tormenting Julian as usual.
On the way home tonight, Gabriel asked for a Nintendo DS (a hand-held video game). I laughed a genuine laugh. "Are you kidding?????? No kid whose mommy has to put his underpants on for him in the morning gets a video game! Absolutely, positively, definitely, completely, totally, utterly NO!!!"
I hate these blowouts, and I hate losing control. But what was I to do? I guess I could have backed down and comforted him when he finally conceded. He even demanded in the car on the way to school, "CARE for me, Mom!" But I was too mad. Dave and I are absolutely fed up with how difficult it is to get them going in the morning, and something has to change. Julian's putziness is still mostly just incredibly annoying, but these full-scale battles with Gabriel tip over into true stress, and weigh on me all day.
Consequences, anyone?
Today I wrote down the number of minutes each boy delayed getting dressed and downstairs (even though I dressed them), which will be subtracted from the next computer game time they get (which will be a while). Gabriel gets no computer game time at all on Saturday for the tooth-brushing detour (not that he gets computer time every Saturday anyway, so unfortunately that's sort of weak). And both had to go upstairs to get ready for bed at 7:30 tonight, sharp, hard deadline no matter what.
The boys actually went about their homework and dinner without too much trouble. Katrina picked up the slack though, resurrecting her old pre-dinnertime tantrums. But her 25-minute screamfest was in the noise compared to what I'd endured with the boys this morning.
Dave got home a little earlier than usual, and we worked the evening around the 7:30 deadline. And this worked well tonight -- very well. I didn't care if homework didn't get finished, or sharing presentations didn't get properly rehearsed, or if birthday invitations didn't get addressed. 7:30 upstairs, 8pm lights off, sharp, period. I hate to run this household like a military institution, but maybe that's what's needed.
Hmm -- some "punishment"! Somehow since we were so firm about bedtime (which meant there was no fun or games or laughing, something I missed), they were mostly calm throughout it, and went right to sleep. (Oh yeah, except when Julian ran out a deadline to get undressed and got put in the bath with his clothes on.) This is how it should be every day! I've believed for a while they need to get to bed earlier, but haven't set a hard time to drop everything and get ready.
Maybe this morning's blowout was an important wakeup call (no pun intended), a dress rehearsal, for the crushing logistics that we will face starting February 1st. What I spit out in anger as a consequence this morning -- "you're both going upstairs at 7:30 tonight no matter what" -- should take hold as permanent routine around here.
I don't say this often, but tonight, I really could use a drink. Motherhood was not good to me today.
Rainy day, but I managed to squeeze in a visit to a coworker's house (sort of coworker; he's 2 levels above me, and is off work for a few months because of a new baby) to check out his backyard landscaping. We have an appointment with a landscape designer on Saturday, since I decided not to do a piecemeal approach of one area at a time. It's time to take care of all 3 of our yards, and all the other little areas around them -- I'm tired of being the neighborhood eyesore And to think, a large lot was a selling point for us.
Did anyone notice the absence of the qualifier "former" before "coworker" in the previous paragraph?
I signed an offer letter today, for a full-time job as a network engineer (well, "Member of Technical Staff") at Covad Communications, starting Monday February 1st.
I have no idea how we're going to handle this. The logistics are daunting.
I have to fall back on some wise words from my philosophical father: "When you know the 'why', the 'how' will follow." The 'why' is almost more complicated than the 'how'. It's partly financial, but if we really really didn't want me to work, we could manage (and never retire). But I do want to work. My father's Alzheimer's has me seriously rattled...upon self-analysis, I think a job demanding much detailed concentration and precision, is my way of attempting to postpone putting my family through it. I'm completely certain it will befall me too, but if I can buy my poor children, already on track to be saddled with elderly parents when they should be concerned with beer parties on campus, some extra time, I will. And I really do like network engineering.
So much for deeper motivations. Now I just have to figure out how to find the time to work, exercise, and keep my family fed, clothed, entertained...and close.
I attended a school board meeting tonight, of all things. The school district is so strapped that they're proposing to eliminate a "Class Size Reduction" program. Instead of 20 kids in Julian's 1st-grade class, there will be 30. THIRTY. Not 24, not 28, THIRTY. A 50% increase. Gabriel's 3rd-grade class too, since this affects grades 1-3, but it would be felt far more in the younger grades.
There's been a fair amount of parent uproar about this, so I thought I'd lend my face to that uproar. Not that anyone saw me; the room where the meeting was held was packed and parents were spilled out into the hall. And not that it mattered. The decision was already made.
Apparently this isn't the final word, but preliminary layoff notices will go out to 100 teachers, to become final unless something happens by May 15. To we laypeople, it's baffling why five furlough days, which teachers prefer too, isn't the obvious answer. Or opening schools later -- we don't need to start in the 3rd week of August. But this isn't about "obvious."
I'm too mired in the world of logic and determinism to have any idea what's going on, but I'm sick about the idea of Julian's poor future teacher having to deal with 30 of them. So much for being in one of the top school districts in the state, whatever little that means anymore.
Gabriel home sick today with temps of 100 on and off -- on again tonight, so, he's home tomorrow too. This puts a crimp in my ability to run around the Bay Area and catch up on stuff, but in truth, being home alone with him all day is a rare delightful treat.
Today we walked to school to see how long it takes, and to rehearse the boys on crossing streets and driveways. What a nasty, noisy walk! And it took 30 minutes -- we won't be walking to school often. But it was instructive, and accomplished the goal of distracting the boys from tormenting each other.
Our funky house doesn't have a foyer (my next one will!), but we still have coats, shoes, knapsacks, sweatshirts, papers, and mounds of general Stuff that kids need to keep track of. I'd seen a handy 3-cubby storage piece in the LL Bean catalog a long time ago, and finally got one a week ago. I assembled it tonight, with help from the boys.
Not exactly ideal decor for a formal dining room, but, whatever. Add in a few colorful milk crates from Target, and we're set!
Tomorrow morning we actually might know where everyone's shoes are.
The assembly instructions were atrocious though, such as saying to put 7 bolts of type M when the diagram showed 8, and the bolt that goes there is listed in the parts list as type Q. The pieces didn't all fit together quite right either, forcing me to charge up my Dremel. I added some hooks in each cubby too. But in the end, though I wish it had a shelf on the bottom, it's exactly what we need -- short of a full-on foyer that is.
