2/19/09 Rattled

Intensely stressful day. Wrote lightly about it on my remodeling blog. I even missed Coffee Night with my mom friends, knowing I'd be poor company. Problem solved, but I'm getting very very tired of these things coming up every day.

Good yoga class at the Y tonight though... the intent was to improve my psyche, but it turned out to the best thing yet for my creaky, marginal back.

A few photos of kids as we returned from the grand pickups today.


Katrina attempting to avoid the camera. What's up with that?!


They make a lot of sounds. The contrast tonight between Gabriel (who's singing "The Entertainer") and Katrina (who's having a typical meltdown until she gets her Mimi) is remarkable.

(Note that the way this bathroom is set up, it's very easy to whack someone who just got out of the bath with the door, hence Dave's admonishment to close the door, aimed towards rambunctious brothers.)

2/19/09

2/18/09 The Natural Order

I mentioned to Dave yesterday that I had to pull over on a fairly busy street in rush hour to switch the boys in the back of the car, since Katrina was screaming constantly from Julian bugging her. "Are you crazy?!" he said, "You let Julian ride next to Katrina?!"

Not today. Despite protests from Julian (as the middle seat is hotly contested), I insisted he ride on the side, and Gabriel climb over him to sit in the middle. Ahhh.. The contrast in peace reminds me of the zen state that motorcycle riders enter when hatches are battened down for a nice long ride -- earplugs in, sunglasses on, visor down, leathers all zipped up, full tank of gas, and it's just you and the sound of your engine and the wind to focus you on the scenery and the feel of the road, with your thoughts flowing and mind alive.

OK, OK, driving around with three children is still not exactly meditative, but the contrast was remarkable. What's that I hear? Oh! It's myself thinking!

Our little middleborn has been sort of a pain lately. Whiny, complaining, irritating. It's different than the family-freezing impasses that his siblings bring on; Julian isn't cut from the same cloth that Gabriel and Katrina are. In fact, I'll go on a small limb here and say that he's the most different one in the family -- a good thing, but it means that understanding him doesn't come as easily to us.

With Julian, when he's been acting out for a while, I do start to wonder if there's something in his life that's weighing on him. He says he doesn't like school, but he's never unhappy when I pick him up, he has lots of friends, doesn't get into trouble -- no low-hanging fruit there. It twangs my guilt strings ...maybe he needs more home time. Or more one-on-one Mom time.

I put off my endless evening tasks tonight when I found him playing with a marble game in his room, and sat with him and joined him. He wanted to build the marble ramps himself, but he was clearly glad I was there, so I just asked him questions and let him lead it. It was a nice time together, though I was aware it was on my terms and not his, and that's still not exactly what he needed. I wish we had more time together so that he can pick and choose our moments as he likes.

It strikes me again that in so many ways, they need me more now than they did as babies and toddlers. When they're all in school, I really hope I don't have to work. Babies need someone, but a 5-year-old really needs his mother. And father. Not so much his brother. And his sister definitely could do without him sometimes!

2/18/09

2/17/09 The Near Miss

Tonight I went to the jobsite house to check out the progress on the family room fireplace tile, since Dave thought there was a chance it was on its way toward being installed wrong. On the way there, I braced myself for another potential problem -- how will I handle this? I'm very, very weary of having to "get over" things. So many things aren't quite right, but are so permanent. At this point, I'm now doubting some very basic decisions we made over a year ago. Time, living in another house, and drastically different economic conditions have really changed my perspective.

I stepped onto the porch to look for packages -- and our feeble overhead porch light went on automatically. It never used to do that, but we had to attach it to a motion sensor to meet code, one of countless changes and expenses we've had no choice on. As a porch light, it was never enough, but as an automatic light to guide you up the steps, I found it welcoming, gentle, and perfect. We should have had something like this years ago.

Finally, a really nice surprise. And better yet, the family room fireplace tile was perfect too.

2/17/09

2/16/09 The Holiday

President's Day! Dave's company, Gabriel's school and daycare, and Julian's preschool, were all closed! I went to work, Katrina went to Tonya's, and it was up to the boys to fend for themselves today.

Being a shameless opportunist, I sent Dave on my daily remodeling errands....drop off stain samples, pick up a few overlooked plumbing items, deal with an underestimated amount of flooring material, the usual. So I got to go to work, and come home from work, directly -- no extra trips. Amazing...is this what it's like to be a grownup and a homeowner living at home?

Then again, usually my remodeling errands are done sans little boys. I talked to Dave briefly while he was at the plumbing store (yes, satin nickel please), and in the few seconds we spoke, I could hear Julian tattling in the background: "Gabriel touched my butt!" Dave said later that was preferable to his follow-up announcement to the whole (small) store: "GABRIEL SAID P-NIS!!" Ah, such open-minded observant children we're raising.

I was truly glad to see my little brood tonight, though very sorry I had to spend so much of my time dealing with dinner, cleanup, lunches, laundry, gathering things for tomorrow. And in the background weighs on me constantly: remodeling stuff as always, and now, taxes. I must get all taxes done before we move, or it'll turn into a major scramble with all our things in boxes right around deadline time. "All" means our personal taxes, my Dad's, and my corporation's, which has a dealine of March 15. This new world of corporate tax filing makes our personal taxes seem like a piece of cake!

But I did enjoy watching them all play together tonight. I continue to marvel at how different Katrina's 2-year-old life is than Gabriel's was. At her age, most of his play at home was done quietly on his own, though he was curious about his infant brother. Nothing quiet about Katrina's 2-year-old life, surrounded by two rambunctious brothers. That has to have an effect. Good or bad, we'll see.

Short, cute ending. Notice how Katrina yells at Gabriel when she feels threatened by his waving feet.


Longer, more of the same. Notice how Julian kisses her hand in the beginning. Another cute ending, when she wants to show me her Kitty-Kat.


Much of this silliness was for her benefit. Indeed, her life is ruled by having two older brothers, but she has a powerful effect on the dynamic too. Unwittingly, she takes pressure off the brothers' relationship, since Julian often wants to play when Gabriel wants to be left alone (age, personality). Katrina fills that gap -- often against her will!

Unfortunately, after another 40 minutes, Gabriel was still completely into his siren-sounds and mussing people's heads and was getting completely out of control, knocking things down and being incredibly annoying. Childhood play is one thing, but I'd had enough. I even spent 5 minutes standing outside in the cold and rain with him, pretending to show him something outside, just to try to break him out of it. No good. Finally an insisted-upon shower broke him out of it, but I had to brace myself for a major battle. That was OK. I had the energy for it, because I'd had a holiday. I think that was a good thing....

2/16/09

2/15/09 A touch of Portland

This doesn't happen often around here -- it rained all day!

I look Katrina and Julian to the Y today, thinking that maybe the late-morning Zumba class wouldn't be so crowded on a rainy day. Instead, the teacher announced that she counted 98 -- yes, ninety-eight -- people in the class. It's so popular that they've long since abandoned the number system and instead moved it to a much larger room. I just had to get there a few minutes early to get a primo spot up front, something years of dance classes taught me to do. I'm short and slow to catch on to choreography -- I need a great view of the teacher. A great way to spend a rainy morning! (Negotiating semi-flooded parking lots with a toddler who insists on walking, then refuses to walk in the direction needed, and hence has to be carried...not so much.)

Katrina's handed-down rain jacket is too small, the hood won't stay on. So she got an upgraded hand-me-down today. It's a little big, but sooooo cute! And she actually wore the hood. She really really wanted to play outside!



I had an odd pang today, when my brother gave me an update on the work he and my sister and brother-in-law are doing on my Dad's house. I want to do that too! What?! you might think. Why would I want to do home projects after all we've been through! Well, because, it's my home then. No one shakes their head and tells me you can't do that, or you shouldn't do that, or barrages me with a list of reasons why they don't think it's the right thing to do. I like doing home projects. I might like them even more now that I won't have to do them.

Oh yeah, except that pesky landscaping thing....urgh. With all this rain, it's going to be as green as Portland pretty soon, but in a few months it'll turn California brown.

2/15/09

2/14/09 What Valentine's Day is about

"What is Valentine's Day about?" Gabriel asked. He'd refused to do any cards for his classmates.

"Love," I answered, squashing a cynical remark about a manufactured holiday to sell cards and flowers. "It's about telling people you love them."

"Oh," he said. "A girl must have invented that."

Smart -- and wise!

2/14/09

2/13/09 A touch of Colorado

A backdrop of snow-capped mountains is a rare sight around here.

It's a common sight in many places, so why does this make me think Colorado? Just because it seems especially spectacular there, based on my few visits.

Not that we're moving anywhere anytime soon. While we could potentially push hard for the house to be ready March 6, there are too many things that could trip us up. Another week lets us handle every last detail while the house is still a jobsite, its easier for trades to get in and out, and we don't have coordinate. I absolutely do not want anyone traipsing around our house while we're living there! Also, our contractor does a 2-day deep post-construction cleaning, which should be done dead LAST.

Flooring is going in -- now that makes it look like a house! I find myself frustrated and disappointed with countless items (today I'm beating myself up that I didn't insist on seeing a stain sample before all the trim got stained, it's too dark and brown and not red enough), so I'm happy to say that I love the floor.


I'm far, far more tired Friday evenings than any other day of the week, since I spend the whole day from 8am on running around and taking care of construction items. I spend less time with the kids on Fridays, my day "off," than I do on weekdays with homework and lunches. Four more Fridays!

2/13/09

2/12/09 Car-frontation

What a rattling day. First I was excited that it looked like we could move in a week earlier than I thought. Then it turned out that an important PG&E installation was missed. Now it looks like we can make up that time, but now my kitchen butcher block top will be late, which isn't a problem by itself, but it halts the installation of a necessary electrical outlet -- yes, a single outlet -- in the island, required by code.

Already tense, I went about the usual routine of pickups after work -- an easy day, since Katrina was at TLC. I was really looking forward to seeing them, and Katrina rewarded me with a spectacular "Mom-my!", ran to me and gave me her version of a huge hug. She turned to the line of toddlers staring and announced, "Thas' my Mommy!" It was the sort of scene that makes other adults smile and marvel at our close connection and my fabulous parenting.

All to be unravelled in the next few minutes.

As usual, I left Julian and Katrina in the car while I fetched Gabriel. But this time, it took extra time to get him since he had to sit on the pot first. Thank goodness he's speedier about business than Julian, but still, he's a kid, and it takes some time.

While waiting, I looked outside at my car, and saw a scene developing. One of the school administrators -- the same one whose sh*t list I'm already on for a possible residency violation -- and another parent (or teacher perhaps) were peering into my car. Great, they see Julian and Katrina alone in the car. I looked at them from my vantage point, they saw me, but they weren't clear of my role in this scenario.

I went back to hurry Gabriel, then anxiously back to the door -- now the principal had joined them, and the parent was on a cell phone. I considered going out, but I needed to keep after Gabriel. Finally he was ready, and I rushed him across the parking lot.

"Oh, are these yours?" the administrator asked suspiciously.

As I expected, the lecture about the dangers of leaving them in the car ensued, and I cut it off with saying they were far safer in the car than if I were to walk all three of them across this busy parking lot twice, twice a day.

The other parent was particularly horrified at my laxness: "What if someone takes your car?" Oh please! I told her I had my keys, and it was far, far, FAR more likely that they'd get hit in the parking lot by another car. That happens. Car thefts and kidnappings from school parking lots in Cupertino....not so much.

The school administrator pointed out I hadn't even locked my car. I looked squarely at her and said, "Really? Do you really think they're safer locked in? What if something happened to me? Then no one could get to them!" She shrugged, unprepared for such a direct question. "I think they're better off if people can open the doors."

"Wowwww..." said the other parent.

The administrator persisted: "What if they get out and run across the parking lot?" I answered that one is strapped in, and the other just doesn't do that. He's five for Pete's sake.

"Woww....." said the other parent, almost in pity at my inability to see the obvious threat of kidnapping and car theft versus a toddler breaking away and getting hit by a car. She said critically, "They're safest with you."

"In this parking lot?!" I snapped. She said she didn't have time and left. The administrator continued, "What if we called the police?" I told her, "I've explained this very thing to the Sheriff, and he agreed!"

By now I was getting mad. "You really think it's safer for me to walk all three children --" I had to pull rank here; sometimes three children gives you moral authority "-- across this parking lot, with all these minivans backing out?!" I gestured toward the white minivan parked next to me. It was hers.

"Now THAT is dangerous, and it is the far far more likely scenario than someone taking my car." They paused, taken aback by my escalating belligerence. "I take my children's safety very seriously, and walking three little children across a busy parking lot isn't it!"

The principal backed down and made one of his usual fumbling comments about just wanting to let me know, and I thanked his hurrying back for his concern. The administrator followed quickly, unwilling to stick out the evolving tirade. I can't say I blame her. I regretted getting mad, but I was in no mood to be judged.

But it was the other parent that really irked me. "Wowwwww..." Like I was dangling them off a balcony. Of course later, I wished I'd asker her: "When you back your car out, are you completely certain there is no child behind your car? Because here's one thing you can be certain of: it's not one of mine." But even if I'd thought to suggest that she herself might be the very danger against which I was protecting them, it wouldn't have done any good. She was already completely convinced of my irresponsibility. I think I saw her writing my license number down.

None of them noticed that my first-grader is one of the very few who still has to hold my hand across the parking lot. Even at TLC, all three of my children still have to hold my hand across the small private 3-car lot right in front of the building. At TLC, about 5% of the time, I have to make two trips to get everyone in the car, as I need two hands for the football hold for a tantruming Katrina. I take parking-lot safety very seriously; as a motorcylist I knew the odds of my getting hit in a parking lot were far far higher than on a highway.

As Dave points out, my primary motivation for leaving them in the car is convenience, not safety, but I absolutely reject a safety argument for bringing them with me as specious, not thought-out, knee-jerk, politically correct, and just plain wrong given this set of circumstances. By far their -- and my -- biggest threat in that parking lot is other cars, not kidnapping. Every safety decision is balanced against convenience, though most people bristle at that idea. Safety above all else! the dogma goes. No one adheres to that, or they'd never get into cars. Why don't you wear a helmet in a car? Because it's inconvenient.

Well, I found a fine way to ingratiate myself with the school administration, now, didn't I? We were already on thin ice. Something tells me my request for an AM time for my kindergartner won't be met with any extra consideration.

I don't expect a lot of support from you readers for my position, but for what it's worth, I'm by no means the only one to leave small children in a car for a few minutes on a regular basis. In many cases, it's safer. And it's certainly more convenient. "Woww....."

2/12/09

2/11/09 I love you Julian

Julian got a list of all the names of the kids in his class. It didn't say "you must write a valentine," but that was the implication. Like I have bandwidth to oversee his valentines, and Gabriel's and Katrina's too. Not happening here.

No matter; Julian took it upon himself to write them. I gave him some blank paper, and he decided for himself to draw a heart, and write "I love you ____ Julian," for each kid in his class. He's up to 8 out of 15.

My sweet, sweet boy. I love you Julian!

Potty-training practice is going .... well .... sort of. If even the tiniest step is made each day, it's a step, and that's where we're at: tiny steps. The BIG step of actually sitting on a toilet, let alone actually going in it, is far, far away. But for now, I'm thrilled with the progress of being willing to wear underpants -- or at least, reluctantly accepting the absence of a diaper.

She insists on wearing Gabriel's Thomas underpants though.

Our tiny (but really, big!) steps include telling us each time she went in the underpants, and one time taking them off herself after going. She didn't ask about a diaper at all tonight. For only three diaper-free nights at home, this is all far more progress than I'd dared hope.

2/11/09

School readiness

Today we got a short evaluation for kindergarten readiness from Julian's preschool. The "academic" criteria are very elemental, though really, they should be. Despite what many patrons of our school district might think, it's only kindergarten. Things like recognizing letters, colors, shapes, numbers. By those measures, Katrina is almost ready for kindergarten!

More importantly, his teacher wrote "very good" for the social criteria: attention span, social maturity, gross and fine motor skills, self-discipline, class participation, and that based on her assessment of his social and emotional maturity, excellent success can be expected in Kindergarten.

Not that I was in any way worried about Julian. I actually had a hard time filling out a parent survey for his kindergarten registration, especially about his strengths and weaknesses, goals I have for him, if there are any issues the teacher should be aware of, does he work well in groups, etc. He's so well-rounded there's really not a lot to say besides "He's great!"

Yesterday I was trying to give Gabriel an example of how math can be useful in the real world, as he complains sometimes about why he has to do homework. I told him, "Today at work, I needed to know how many minutes there are in a day." He scrunched up his face, puzzled, and said, "Well, why would you need to know one-thousand four-hundred and forty?!" OK, OK, never mind. [ Addendum: this is something he memorized, not that he calculated on the fly. ]

Two days ago I was showing Dave some samples of new handles for our dining room hutch, and mentioned that three of them cost $15 each, but one cost only $3. "WHAT?!" Gabriel exclaimed, "FORTY-EIGHT DOLLARS?!" I stared at him. Could I do that in first grade? Would I have?

He calculates quickly, but it takes years of experience to put into context what $48 means. I'm still learning how myself. $15 is a lot for a handle, but $5 is a lot for a piece of cheesecake too. Fortunately, I don't need a lot of either, and I'm buying both.

2/10/09 MOMom

Mean Old Mom. I like this kind of meanness.

Tonight before bed, Julian asked for ice cream. He'd earned it, since as usual, he'd eaten all his dinner, including a healthy dose of spinach. Gabriel wanted ice cream too, but he hadn't touched his spinach. I told him no, he had to eat some spinach first. So I put a plate of creamed spinach in front of him and told him that was his road to ice cream. He objected at first, but ice cream was too powerful an incentive.

This on the tails of a complaint by the boys, on the way home from pickups, "Mommy, how come we never get to go to McDonald's?"

Yessiree, this is the sort of mom-you-are-so-mean I can live with. Despite the strong risk that I'm permanently turning them off to spinach, and elevating McDonald's to forbidden-fruit status.

2/10/09

2/9/09 Changes

Whew! What a day of logistics.

It's time to decide and commit to where Katrina is going to go next year, as I need to reserve her spot at TLC (Julian's most excellent preschool where she goes Tues-Thurs) by Thursday. I hate to break the ties from Tonya's, but even Tonya thinks Katrina needs to go to one or the other, not both. I'm sure she's right. I'd much rather Tonya's family daycare, but it's just far enough, and opens just late enough, that it puts me on a busy expressway, max distance from work, at the peak traffic hour. But this might not matter so much when we're living closer to everything, and the boys both go to the same place.

The BIG change is that Tonya is suggesting to a group of parents that they all potty-train their toddlers, and asked if I'd like Katrina to join. The other kids are overall much readier -- they have gone on the potty before, and don't resist the whole idea with screaming fury -- but the group-think might work on Katrina. (This is a handy departure from older older brother's style!)

So tonight, I decided for this week: no diapers at home.

Katrina was outraged at the idea when we got home and I stripped her down, but she's distractable and to my surprise, I was able to get her past the tantrum. Then she said she wanted underpants, understandably enough. After vociferously rejecting various suggestions I had, including the Elmo set she'd chosen herself at Target, she agreed to Thomas underpants. Fortunately, we still have a stash of those in Gabriel's drawer. Looks like I'll be training my girl in Spider-Man and Scooby-Doo instead of Princesses and Dora.

Having done this twice before, I'd be surprised if she potty-trains in the next few weeks, but we're laying important groundwork for later. I had to change her clothes twice, but this is good -- she got to see and feel the consequences. And I confirmed what I've suspected for a while: she's past the baby-phase of going ALL the time, unlike her brothers at this age who went every 15 minutes. Physically, she can probably handle it. Cooperation is the much bigger hurdle. Miss Contrary has to decide for herself, but it seems she needs a little push.

Now I have to figure out if I can cut the tie to family daycare. I'm not sure I can. Who's the resistant one who needs training here?!

Speaking of logistics and changes: I turned in the kindergarten registration packet for Julian today at the school. My boy is going to kindergarten! I actually got choked up leaving the school office with my registration receipt.

2/9/09

2/8/09 Sensitivities

Julian in so many ways is more physically sensitive than Gabriel. His tummy has always been more volatile, he's horribly allergic to penicillin, he gets canker sores, he gets nosebleeds -- he even has a lot more snot than Gabriel! (sorry, TMI.)

And now, I suspect Julian has a genuine food allergy: kiwi. A benign one as they go, since it's not exactly a pervasive food, but he's very consistent in complaining that his throat hurts as soon as he eats one. It's no threat and he's in no danger, but it's a shame, because he's the only one here besides me who will eat kiwi, and they're healthy!

A first today: I didn't carry Katrina at all leaving the Y this morning!

Not that she can't walk of course, but it's a question of cooperation. She won't always (ever?) hold my hand crossing streets or parking lots or walk with me. But today she was great walking back to the car (a fair distance since the Y's parking lot was full). Let's gloss over the fact that I carried her in in a football hold, kicking and screaming!

Tonight, Julian is concerned that the Earth will turn into a star.

2/8/09

2/7/09 On Strike

Gabriel's birthday party was today! A week after his birthday, and his invitees had less than two weeks' notice (sigh) -- but the very small set of kids I could persuade him to invite (he's funny that way, it has to be kids he plays with ALL the time) could all make it.

My excuse for not doing Gabrie's party at home is that it's becoming a pain giving parties at our rental house, but the truth is, I just don't know what to do with seven 7-year-olds. I couldn't get the ice-skating place to call me back, so, right next to the ice rink, I arranged for a party at Strike, an upscale bowling alley.

When we first walked in, I thought I had another Chuck E Cheese situation on my hands -- noisy, screens flashing everywhere, no one at the party check-in desk. But as soon as we met with the party coordinator, everything went great. I couldn't believe how on top of things and helpful the staff were. They serve party junk food and drinks right at the lanes, provide all the plates, forks and napkins, offered to refrigerate the cake, helped me carry stuff and set up the bowling lanes. Staff members stopped by frequently to help and remind me not to stress out and to enjoy it.

They even put up a sign!


The bowling was great, too. They have a modern system that allows you to set "bumpers on" per player (prevents gutter balls). There was also a light metal ramp that was good for the ones who really can't handle a ball, like Julian. They offered me a set of shoes too (and a free glass of wine!), so I bowled also. (I scored a 125, not bad considering I haven't bowled in years and was very distracted!)

The biggest problem was keeping the kids moving. One lane luckily got three of the older taller kids, and they buzzed along well together. The other lane had Gina (who should have been with the speedy lane and blew all the boys away scorewise), and the remainder of the group, who were much slower and goofing around and weren't paying attention to who was up next. Gabriel was one of the worst bowlers, but he had a great time.


One boy's mom brought him late, after soccer practice, and she stayed and was a terrific help, pouring lemonade and reminding who was up next to go. Her son was quite the clown too.

I was torn about whether or not to bring Julian. In retrospect, I shouldn't have. He really was out of his element; the pacing of a group of 6-7-year-olds is much much faster than he could handle, and it took a lot of my attention. But the real reason was that Gabriel didn't really want him there -- it was his day with his friends. I hated it when my father forced my younger siblings on me with my friends. I can make plenty of my own mistakes without repeating my Dad's too.

After the bowling, they moved us to a table where we could sing happy birthday. I brought the cake, but they were prepared with candles and matches, and a manager even took photos! I couldn't believe it. They were SO helpful.


A good-sized group. Between 4 and 8 guests is perfect for a party of kids this age.

I really liked getting to know Gabriel's friends. Two are CDC-mates, two are classmates, one is both, and one is a babyhood friend. If you can judge someone by their friends, I have a pretty neat kid.

The cake was a very last-minute creation, and really last-minute because I zoomed out to buy some premade fondant for the bowling ball a few hours before the party. That took less time than thinking of how to make an edible bowling ball with things on hand.

Given all the time demands and pressure I've been under, decorating a cake could either seem foolish, or, a very necessary diversion. I vote for the latter. Store-bought cakes have their place -- I'm glad I did it for the family party -- but the process is missing. Gabriel had a great time watching me, picking the color for the bowling ball, laughing at the fallen pin, suggesting the "action lines," and reminding me numerous times that one of my cake-decorating mentor friends is much, much, MUCH BETTER AT THIS THAN YOU ARE, MOM!!! (he's right). That's irreplaceable. I don't think I'll ever try to surprise the kids with a cake I decorate, because the real fun is in the making, not the big reveal. Hmm, cake decorating as a metaphor for child-raising!

It wasn't the cheapest way to go, but I would do a party at Strike again in a heartbeat. In fact, I'm looking forward to one!

2/7/09

2/6/09 The Work Day

I can't wait until I can go to work on Fridays -- it'd be a lot less work!

I dragged my sorry rear end out of bed at 7:15, sacrificing timely grooming and dressing for a little extra sleep, and sprang right into action getting kids moving, dressed, fed, teeth brushed, knapsacks packed, lunches out, shoes and jackets on, excuses fielded, strap in the car. In theory, spending time with my children in the morning shouldn't be work, but in practice, getting them all out the door -- including the 6.5 minutes I spend getting dressed myself -- is hard labor.

Then it was post office, jobsite meeting, lighting store, plumbing store, bath store, (shh, Starbucks), home to make immediate phone calls, upload photos, send emails including photos of various problems that came up at the jobsite meeting.

At 3:30 I lay down to ease my breaking back -- it's still verrry iffy. At 4:00, I had breakfast. Sleep is always the higher priority.

Then it was right back to action writing checks, answering email, paying bills, opening boxes, zooming out to pick up kids -- out of time to unload my completely packed car, and Gabriel had to climb over a long box between his and Julian's seat (this turned out to be a good thing!). With all three strapped in, it was back to the jobsite to unload the car, find a few things, reload with a few delivered packages -- a lot of work since the front entries to the house are blocked off right now.

Finally, after 6pm, time to go home with my arguing brood and....work some more?!

Forget it! I called Dave: "meet us at the restaurant!" Gabriel rebelled, "Why can't we go home and have macaroni and cheese?" "Because I worked hard today and I'm not cooking tonight!" "You worked hard doing what?" he demanded.

I didn't think he'd understand.

Thank goodness, Katrina was the model toddler at the restaurant this time, but it's one of our longtime favorites, a Japanese restaurant that's very kid-friendly. "Mmm, yummy!" she said of the miso soup. We pulled it off with no preparation and no kid-gear at all. The only issue we had was Gabriel hugging and kissing Katrina so much we had to move him so she'd quit screaming at him after she got tired of it.

I made of ton of remodeling progress today, such as delivering a carload full of light fixtures, and finished up most of the final ordering. It's actually way past time that I should be ordering things; they should be installing everything now. But while I can spend 10 minutes picking a kitchen countertop or staircase carpet, it can take me days to settle on the right handtowel holder. I'm still missing a doorstop here or there, but now anything I order now is to address a problem (like discovering today that a small medicine cabinet, now installed and painted, arrived without a door).

It's encouraging to get past big hurdles, but as I look around the muddy, gouged, weedy yards, I see many many years of work ahead.

2/6/09

2/5/09 Bills

A bad bill day. Today I engaged in a serious struggle to get my "client," also my former employer, to even acknowledge they've received invoices -- and when they do, they take 30 days to pay them. I've been working for free since the beginning of December, and it's getting old.

Then today, our contractor sends a bill, and expects us to pay immediately. They give me a pass because I send the payment online, and it takes a whole (gasp) 6 days to arrive. That means I have to pay it within hours from when I receive the bill, no leeway. Yet my client can't even keep track of mail, answer phone calls, or get their internal process straight.

I should have known the day would be like this. It started on the phone with the Veteran's Administration, with the same conversation I have with them every time I call: "No, my father does not live in California -- I do. No, don't contact me to arrange a meeting with him, contact his place in Massachusetts. Sure, what the heck, put one of your useless notes in his file just like the last 10 people did, knock yourself out. Hey, I know a company in California that would be perfect for you!"

A nice coffee & cheesecake night out with mom friends helps bring reality back. It buys me another few days before I crack.

2/5/09

2/4/09 28 Stats

I took Katrina to the pediatrician today for her 27-month checkup....right on time, since she turns 28 months tomorrow. Isn't it interesting how "some people" can be so consistent about being late?

Katrina is:

35-1/2" long (60 %ile)

26.5 lbs (30 %ile)

Scared of stethoscopes

Completely healthy!

As usual, there was little to talk about because she's developing normally and has no issues to speak of. (Being grumpy and demanding and bossy doesn't count.) I didn't even think to bring up the occasional hive episodes, and I already knew that this recent stammer thing isn't a big deal. The doc actually said it's a little more likely on kids who do speak well. In fact, the only noteworthy thing about this visit was Katrina's language progress -- that she went from a word here or there at 18 months to a really pretty rich grammar and vocabulary for a 2-1/4-year-old.

I had to chuckle when the doc kindly offered some advice on the dinnertime tantrums, which I'm THRILLED to report have subsided in the past week. It was the usual standard and normally valid advice, which means it isn't Doudna-proofed. After our experiences with Gabriel, I became convinced that anti-tantrum advice works best on kids who don't seriously tantrum. (Recall that after age 4, we sought professional help from a psychologist!) Julian's softer temperament was further proof -- magazine methods worked great on him, but we didn't really need it. Thank goodness I have Julian to remind me that I'm not entirely defective when it comes to producing agreeable children.

I hope she tests negative for peanut allergies in another 9 months...I made a devastating discovery today: Trader Joe's stopped carrying my favorite Soybean Butter!

2/4/09

2/3/09 I am a rock...I am an....

...island?

No. Definitely not. Please don't even say "island" around me.

I think I will Officially Lose My Mind today. Tomorrow, latest.

Thanks to measuring a friend's altogether reasonable island in her kitchen, I flipped out when realizing my future island would be 95" long. I mean, I've always known it would be 95" long, it was designed to seat 3, after all. Sounds, and looks, reasonable....

...until you take a tape measure to a friend's altogether reasonable island, pull it to 95" and realize that 95" is altogether unreasonable. 95" is almost eight feet long!

This is no time to be making changes. Electrical, cabinets....numerous things have been planned around a 95" island. ANY change at this stage risks introducing new problems, and certainly new costs and delays.

Still, it panicked me. We've invested so much heart and soul (read: time and money): I have to love -- no, LOVE, LOVE!! -- this! What if I walk in the house for the first time, when it's a house and not a jobsite, and go "Hey, what's with that island? It's huge!" I'm not an eight-foot-island sort of person! Really, I'm low-maintenance, right?!

This isn't a measurement issue, it's an identity crisis. I'm not suited for this. I'm too compulsive, too detail-oriented, too indecisive. Remodels are made for people who have broad ranges of satisfaction, who can shrug their shoulders and say "eh, whatever" -- not chronic optimizers who wrangle about every last millimeter of usable space. This would be much easier if I were a designer-type: I'd simply follow what the designer said about the "look," and be confident. But few people can beat a design far past its natural death on functionality and agonize to achieve perfection as I can.

Work, for me, is a relief: in network engineering, tiny details, immaculate organization, specific interpretation of rules, complete determinism and utter objectivity are hero's tools. With computers, there are no opinions, only irrefutable facts. That's my element. This fuzzy "looks good" stuff continues to be foreign, to the point of toxicity, to me.

Alas, my ever-patient kitchen designer compromised by bringing the island down to 85" -- still over 7 feet, but not quite as overwhelming.

Design isn't my forte, as anyone reading half a blog post knows...so my "theme" for decorating the house simplifies that, I think: I like the idea of regional-appropriate decorations, as well as ones that have some special meaning to us.

So I was beside myself to find these barstools for the Island -- on sale! -- at Sturbridge Yankee Workshop.

(In case any readers are not aware, we live in Santa Clara County, home to a fertile valley with a long tradition, almost gone now, of agriculture.)

My only hesitation about getting different fruits on the barstools is the fights this will cause: with three children -- heck, even two -- conflicts over a particular stool are inevitable. Still, I have to wonder: which fruit would they fight over the most?

I'm looking forward to having that problem, because by then, the island will be cast in stone, and I won't be driving anyone too too crazy anymore. Except myself, but alas, that is my burden.

Please take a moment to appreciate the depth of my husband's patience and stamina.

2/3/09

2/2/09 One Hundred

Once again, the sort of busywork I can't stand, but it was relatively harmless this time: to "celebrate" 100 days of school, Gabriel has to put 100 items in a plastic bag to bring to school. He had to do this in kindergarten too. Is the point to reinforce the ability to count to 100? Or to lose 100 Lego pieces you insisted on using?

There was one plus of the discussion of 100 items. Julian said he could only count to 60, and I said I was sure he could count to 100, and if he couldn't, I'd help him. I used this to keep Julian in the kitchen with me as I prepared dinner, which is far far less trouble than dropping dinner-making activities every few seconds to go scold him to leave Katrina alone for the hundredth time. He happily recited every number between 1 and 100 with no hesitation.

He can count to 100 and read...academically he's ready for kindergarten. Socially? He's got to learn to quit bugging the girls!

2/2/09

2/1/09 The stammer

I'm a big Bob Newhart fan. I can't explain why exactly, but he is so deadpan, so even, he completely cracks me up. I was thrilled to discover he had a small role on Desperate Housewives!

Anyway, in some-or-other episode of one of his TV shows, he clarified that he doesn't stutter, he-he-he stammers. Having a friend with a son who stutters, I've learned a little about it, and stuttering is a complex neurological problem that's not well-understood and that varies greatly from child to child. Stammering, I think, is just repeating yourself a few times.

Katrina has developed a big case of the stammers in the past few days. She expresses herself clearly and has no trouble getting words out, but she repeats her first word numerous times: "I I I I I I I want to climb up on the chair!" It's like she doesn't want to lose the floor or something. As if we could ignore her! I don't think this is a problem. It just sounds sort of silly.

2/1/09