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.
With working-parent guilt in full swing (even though I'm still technically unemployed), I found a way to give all three kids an activity, without running around like crazy and without taking over our weekends. Gymnastics classes for all 3, same time, same place! A relatively convenient Saturday at 9am, though the boys are in a different building than Katrina. Still, this is nothing short of a miracle.
I had some guilt anyway though -- Gabriel isn't a toddler anymore who just needs "something" to do on Saturday mornings. Things to do just for fun are fine of course, but he's plenty old enough for his extracurricular activities to be building skills he'll have for a long time. If he wants. You know me, this isn't about having something to put on a college application, but if he does want to, say, get good at soccer, shouldn't he be in soccer?
I think it's unlikely any of them will get serious about gymnastics (and as a former very poor gymnast myself I have little enthusiasm for it) (though I did have a great time showing them how to do a cartwheel and seeing if I could still walk on my hands), but let's give it a try. And at least today, things that are just for fun are pretty darned fun. The boys are old enough that boys' gymnastics really means boys' gymnastics: just a boys' class, and on equipment that only men's gymnastics uses. I'd be amazed if their enthusiasm sticks when they have to try the pommel horse, but for today, they had a great time.
First, Katrina's class. Still just for fun, mixture of boys and girls. Katrina, as usual, was reticent about the warmup, and mostly stood and stared.
I left her for a few minutes to check on the boys, and when I returned, I found that she'd completely relaxed and was now happily participating.
This isn't a parent-participation class, and they have two coaches. Only 3 kids are signed up for the class, and only two including Katrina even showed up, so each kid will get a lot of individual attention!
The boys, meantime, were having a blast. Far more than I expected, actually. Julian couldn't quit giggling on the spring board exercises. (The room they're in has awful lighting so it was impossible to get good photos.) I was really happy to see the coach making them do some conditioning exercises afterwards. Get down and give me 20!
In case you hadn't noticed, I did make a point of dressing them similarly today. Yes, I am a complete dork, but it sure makes it easy to keep track of them. And who am I to miss out on a photo-op? They weren't exactly cooperative though, this was the best I could do.
Afterward, it was my turn to exercise. Off to the Y we went. I probably shouldn't have let them play on this trellis outside the Y afterward, but once again, who am I to deny my art. Even if they do.
Dave was at work all day again, so I had a plan. I got the movie Up from Redbox ($1 at Safeway), and told them they could watch it if they put ALL the toys away. Four rooms, including their two bedrooms, had been completely taken over by toys. It took them a long time, but they did it. And we watched Up, which I liked a lot.
After the movie, to my amazement, I found my studious sons brushing up on their language arts. They actually started fighting over the books. We had fun practicing pronouncing and learning words, reinforcing the cliche "you only have to know one more thing than the next guy to be the expert." Because that's about where I am with Spanish, barely one step ahead of them. Still, I do know enough to introduce to them the concept that all objects have a gender, and that "a" is "un" or "una" depending on the gender. They both seem to really want to learn Spanish. Moi aussi ...oops, I mean, mi tambien.
But no Spanish classes on Saturday mornings for the next two months -- that's gymnastics time.
Katrina, playing dress-up -- on one of her brothers. She's trying to cram a purple fringed suede boot onto Julian's foot, and as usual, he's humouring her.
Many things about having kids is unexpected, but for me perhaps the most unexpected is the validation of a cliche. In times of family strife due to illness or death, children really do bring comfort.
Today was an especially painful day emotionally, as my Dad had to be moved back to the psychiatric ward because he was lashing out. I've been a useless zombie between crying spells, stung with helplessness, pity, sympathy and grief.
But when I give Julian a special hug and he hugs me back and says, "I love you mama," it really does bring me back. I'm still sad about my Dad and this awful disease that robs him of all his tools to be who he is, but that sadness is balanced by seeing my children, bursting with life and promise and joy. It makes me determined that they have as many good experiences with me as possible before my time comes. They will be so, so much younger.
Julian's learning about penguins in school, and oh my is he ever. He talked nonstop for 10 minutes, spewing facts about penguins -- and good ones, things I'd never have known about them. And while I really am interested in the penguins, I'm also fascinated by his sincerity, how deeply important it is to him to teach us. If a fact pops into his head, he must express it before he forgets, it's critical. He speaks very very clearly and projects out -- he's not mumbling or running his words together, he articulates it carefully and looks right at you with his wide excited eyes.
His Grandpa Jim, a writer, a science program producer, a researcher, would have been completely taken by this little boy, as am I. He might want to find a different stylist for the Nobel Prize acceptance ceremony though, the purple-fringe boots really weren't his thing.
"Adorable Julian" -- this was the subject of an email from a classmate's mother to me today. She volunteered in Julian's classroom today, and said Julian wrote her two notes (part of a group project I guess), and then took her hand as they were walking back from the library.
He sure can be a charmer!
He can also be a miserable pain in the rear end, as he was at home later. But please, let's not think about that now.
Today I filled out an "employment application" and an approval for a background check -- final steps in a likely job offer. I can't help but get pangs that maybe Julian took this mom's hand because he wants a mom there. I think he'd be thrilled to have me in his classroom sometimes. I don't know any mom that volunteers in the classroom that doesn't love it, though that's a very self-selecting group. Would I be volunteering anyway if I weren't looking for a job? Or endlessly feeling guilty that I should want to but have to drum up enthusiasm for it? If it was important enough to me to be that involved, wouldn't I have worked my life that way?
I can't deny that the last 2 months of work, when I had a really interesting project, revived a huge part of me that's been dormant. I like the focus, the having to think hard, the collaboration, the sense of accomplishment. Could I get that same satisfaction from being a full-time mom? The answer is self-evident: apparently not, or I'd have done that. Now, if I could just get over the guilt.
Today I revived another long-lost part of my life: I went to a ballet class. And I was reminded again of another source of focus, concentration and accomplishment that my former self used to enjoy 3-4 times a week. And don't even get me started on what our trip up Mount Hamilton last weekend did to me.
I can't be an engineer, a dancer and a motorcyclist -- my old self -- and a mother. But I am a mother, that's permanent. Yet I haven't learned how to be truly internally satisfied without those things I used to do. I need to though; I'll have to find other things that supply the same basic elements (concentration, challenge, accomplishment) as I age out of those.
I just hope I don't squander the most important thing I'll ever do by trying to satisfy, or squelch, the relentless urge to be me.
I did something so mainstream today, I'm not sure what to make of it. And I'm surprised how excited I am about it.
I signed Julian up for Little League. Little League! It doesn't get more all-America than that!
It didn't have to be Little League, it could have been another baseball organization, except that's just what's available where we live. And Julian wanted to do baseball.
He'll be in their very first division: Tee-ball. No pitchers, games are 3 innings or an hour max, one practice a week, one game on Saturdays. The season is 3 months long, starting in March.
Still, it's such a foreign world to me. What do we know for organized team sports? The only team sport experience at all in this family is my Canadian brother-in-law who plays hockey. And my nephew, who's now also taking hockey. Other than that, the world of practices, games, teams and uniforms is completely new.
And I'm surprised how excited I am about it. Maybe it's because employment looms -- how can I possibly balance life with work? But I'll be darned if life is going to come to a screeching halt because of work. Team sports is very popular these days, I want my kids to have the chance to participate.
Gabriel wants to do soccer, though its season is in the fall, which is why Julian is our team-sport initiate. Natural ability says little about their ultimate success in a sport (or in school or in life), but there's no question that everyone has their own strengths. Gabriel runs like a deer and throws like a girl, so it's just as well he prefers soccer. Julian runs like a girl but he can throw (or so I'm told by others who know), so baseball might work well for him, though there's plenty of running too. I had fun talking to him tonight about the rules about baseball, and he knew more than I thought, based on his daycamp last summer.
Me, a "soccer mom"? Seemed so unlikely. But baseball somehow seems like more fun, even though there's more action in soccer, and I personally would far, far prefer to play soccer than baseball (as my own natural abilities are much more in line with Gabriel than Julian's). But, as we grownups continue to learn throughout our child-raising careers, it's not about us. Either way, I'll be on the sidelines, cheering happily -- between surreptitious glances at my watch.
The thing about unemployment is, you have SO much to do, and do SO many things during the day, yet at the end of the day, it seems like you got nothing done!
Email today says the CEO signed an offer package, I should receive a written job offer in the mail soon. It's a good thing, but I'm increasingly nervous about how to balance work and life. Then again, it'll be good to get less nothing not done.
