Tippy Toes and Tantrums

Here Comes the Sun

Last night I started buckling down. I realized it was imperative that we get moving asap on my Quixote-like plan to somehow beat the sun this summer. The problem - one of the problems - was that it was after 9 p.m. when I decided we needed to go outside, think about the issue and take measurements. If a lumber yard had been open at that hour, I probably would have woken up the kids to go.

The back portion of our house was added on about 20-25 years ago and was designed with a cabin aesthetic. When we moved in, we ripped out the wood paneling and made some other improvements to alter the cabin feel, leaving only the very large stone and cement wall, hearth and fireplace and the exposed wood ceiling. The ceiling is very high, which is great, but there is minimal insulation and this side of the house is hit directly with all day sun, turning the family room and my office into an oven during the summer. We spent weeks where the inside temperature of the room was well over 100 degrees last year. Obviously, we don't have air conditioning and no amount of fans and a portable evaporative cooler helped much.

Somehow, we need to block the sun from hitting the side of the house, and ideally, shade enough of the side deck to allow the kids to play outside. I bought a sunsail shade last year, but either I mismeasured or I saw incorrect dimensions for the product, but the sail will not work. I was determined to somehow make it work this year, even dragging the family to Home Depot this weekend, but last night I accepted reality that it is not feasible. We looked at gazebos and canopies, but either they would not handle the wind (which we get a lot of - twice last year we had to get our patio umbrellas down from the roof) or they are long term, almost permanent, and I need the light to brighten and warm the house in the winter, so those don't work either.

What would work is pergola. Initially I could cover the top with canvas to block the sun, but then get some climbing plants to cover the top, but that could be trimmed back in the fall to allow more light to filter through. I love the look, but I need to be careful because this would go on a raised deck, so the structure would be anchored to the deck, not the ground, and the deck needs to withstand the weight. Aluminum pergola would be great and Costco has one for about $800, but it would stand out in a not-positive way as our house is brown shingled and the pergola is white. Not to mention, they weigh about 400 pounds and I don't know if that is pushing the limit for our deck.

I decided that I should build a smaller, wood pergola. I decided that last night in bed when I was completely fired up about the project. It didn't matter then that I have no carpentry experience, I have the drive! Or so I thought. Now today I am reconsidering the white aluminum one. Maybe it is because I was so excited about the project that I had trouble going to sleep. Now I am tired with a long to-do list just to get through the week and the pergola seems crazy. It was in the high 80s here this weekend, which forced me to think about the heat and the summer, but this morning is cool enough to wear a sweater. This weather makes me want to go back to bed and curl up under my down comforter. I'm fighting to stay focused, but that bed is really cozy.

Quitting Time

I quit physical therapy on Monday. Well, I know I quit and I told Kevin I quit, but I completely wimped out when talking to my therapist and said I'd be back in about a month. But I did leave without making an appointment and that should mean something, right? I just know they are going to call in about two weeks to ask about another appointment and I will then have to say that I feel my Bell's Palsy has improved enough that I do not need to return and I'm sure they will be okay with that, but I could have just said it during my appointment this week and ended the whole thing then. I hate when I delay the awkwardness like that.

I know physical therapy does some good, but it also felt like I was getting caught up in a scam. When I had my first appointment, my therapist suggested I come in at least weekly (she wanted me to come in more frequently, but with young kids that was impossible) and because some people do have a recurrence of Bell's Palsy (usually episodes are 10 years apart or more), she thought I should keep coming in about once a month to ward off future problems. Seriously? Once a month for...forever? There was no way I was going to do that, in fact, I was ready to vamoose before being 100% better. Not to mention, the palsy isn't caused by a lack of muscle tone, but nerve damage in the base of my head. Working my facial muscles is not going to keep it away.

Also at my first appointment, while demonstrating my facial exercises for her (basically just making faces shown on some photocopies), my good side was not able to do a frown as completely as the model in the picture and my therapist suggested that after the palsy side is better, we work on strengthening the good side too. When I am bothered by someone, they generally know, so my frown-y face works well enough, thanks.

The therapy clinic seems geared toward worker's comp clients. I had to sign several forms in the beginning, all of which said the same thing, just phrased differently, which was if I missed an appointment, I would be charged and my work would be notified that I was no longer obtaining care. Plus, I was always the only client in the facility at a time and according to the sign in sheet, it had always been at least an hour before any other people had been there prior. The attempt to keep me as a long term patient made me feel like I was their answer for keeping the place afloat.

My face is still not 100% better, My eye waters enough that I've gotten used to have blurry vision and when I laugh, my smile is still lopsided. But things are better enough that I no longer need to tell people about it, nor do people look at me askance. It looks normal unless I point out my limitations to people, so I don't. Not to mention, Bell's Palsy is all about waiting. Most cases - 99% for my age group - fully recover on its own in time. The biggest improvements have been made, so I'd rather just wait out the rest a little longer.

The first half of each therapy session involved a deep facial massage on the bad side with Jergen's lotion, which meant I spent most of Mondays with half of my face greased up. My skin is sensitive and last week suddenly one of those huge, cystic-type zits popped up out of nowhere on my neck. Because I have not had acne like that in over 10 years, my guess is the lotion caused it. The electric jolts on my face would happen during the second half of the appointment. The little probe is usually very wet, but this week it was not, and it felt like wires were being rubbed on my face and it burned. I said something and the therapist responded "okay," but went on with the treatment. When I returned home, even Kevin asked what had happened because that side of my face was very red. So, yes, I think I am finished with physical therapy. I just wish I had been brave enough to say it then.

Once in Cars, They're on Their Own

As we hurried along to ballet class the other day, there was a small blue car driving extremely aggressively, enough to keep watching because I expected an accident to occur at any time. We were on the main thoroughfare which is usually a bit congested, but it moves along okay. The blue car was tailgating everyone, weaving in and out of traffic, and trying to do so at a much higher speed than what was reasonable. I was annoyed and then surprised when I saw the driver was a woman in her late 60s.

Days later when going to pick Clover up at school, a car darted out of an apartment building garage on a quiet, residential street and immediately began tailgating the car in front of it. It was the same blue car from the other day and the crazy old lady driver kept up her aggressive driving, running two stop signs and zooming ahead until I lost sight of her. I know it was the same car because of her bumper sticker. It is a large sticker (about three times the normal size) centered on her back bumper that says "I (heart) babies, born and preborn." She's just prochoice when it comes to car safety. Once those babies get out of the womb and into a car, they are fair game.

The Great Dora in the Sky

I tend to browse the internet when my kids are playing in my office. I'm sure they would like it if I starred at them lovingly with my full attention as they played, but I can't, yet this has got to be pretty close as we are all sitting near each other and I have an eye on them. I was flipping around today between blogs and gossip-y sites when suddenly we heard Dora the Explorer talking. Clover's head perked up like it does when she hears the ice cream truck. I knew Dora was coming from my computer, but I could not figure out where or how. Dora said something like "what do you want to be when you grow up?" and Clover, now standing, answered in a loud voice "an artist and a gardener." She answered it as if there was nothing at all strange about a great voice from the universe addressing her. Maybe Dora is her god.

Finally Dora's voice turned into Alec Baldwin, specifically the nasty message voice message he left for his daughter recently. With this I knew which site Dora came from and found a mash up of a Dora episode and the voicemail. (I'd link, but apparently the clip has been removed - essentially it was Alec yelling at Dora.) Heard alone last week, I felt awful for the young girl whom the message was intended...but when put together with Dora, it made me laugh. Once I found where it was coming from, I stopped it, but Clover wanted it to continue. She even shushed her brother, when he made a noise, telling him that "Dora is ON THE PHONE!" For Dora, she is polite, but when I am on the phone, Clover cuts me no slack.

Okay, Maybe I Jumped Ahead

Last Friday and again yesterday Kevin received two calls from two different young women asking if he was home, then declining to leave a message and politely hanging up. The first one I brushed off, but the second one stuck with me, especially since both calls same after 5 p.m., when he conceivably could be home from work. And when I say that I brushed off the first call, it was after a quick reverse directory check where a name did not come up, but the town did. It is the East Coast town where Kevin is from.

The call yesterday came when I was really losing my patience with Clover, who's room had turned into an absolute disaster zone. There were clothes, toys, books and other assorted crap everywhere and I was trying to get her to clean up, which is always painful. I spent the 45 minutes between when the call came and Kevin got home trying to imagine what was going on with him and these women and how fast I was going to send his ass out the door, all while shouting at Clover to clean up or I would begin throwing her things away. I was on the warpath, as my mother used to say when I was young and in one of these moods.

Kevin got home and I had the restraint to not confront him immediately, so I told him about Clover and then showed him the caller ID and asked if that number meant anything to him. See, I held back for two minutes. He immediately said, "That's a [name of university he attended] number," but that he didn't know it beyond that. He guessed that the callers were students asking alumni for donations. He was completely sincere, so I believe him and it is reasonable, especially since Kevin doesn't travel for work or have the time alone to carry on a cross country affair. Or even a local one, as he'd point out because his time is more than accounted for between work and kids. In the time before he got home, I knew he wasn't cheating, but I let my mind race anyway, mostly because if something was going on, I didn't want to miss an obvious sign. At least we were able to laugh when I told him what I had been thinking. A brief laugh only because Clover began bitching to Kevin about having to clean up, making sure to drag everyone down with her. As if Kevin was going to tell Clover that he agreed with her, she did not need to clean up and that I was horrible to suggest such a thing.

Clover's room eventually got cleaned up or so I thought until I opened her closet this morning and saw that the mess had only been moved. I know what her weekend has in store.

Unexotic Animals

If I had known the outing would begin with a mile long trek, I wouldn't have gone. I stupidly thought I should do some sort of bigger outing at least one day during Spring Break and Rocket had never been to the zoo, so why not go there? The glaring, obvious reason not to go should have been that it was Spring Break, which meant every person in a 30 miles radius thought going to the zoo was a great idea too.

When we drove up, the pay parking lot was full and all of the street parking taken. We kept driving, passing the empty school buses and finally finding a spot almost as far as one could be from the zoo without leaving the area. I asked Clover if she really wanted to go to the zoo since it appeared to be so crowded and she said yes. Then I said why don't we go somewhere - anywhere - else in San Francisco and she thought about it and then said "Okay, let's go to the zoo."

This was also not the smartest time to try out our new Buggy Board, which attaches to the back of the stroller, allowing Clover to stand and ride. At first Clover said she wanted to walk, which was fine, but then I found out it was because she was afraid of the board. I told her she was going to have to get over it, so she got on and she did get over it quickly. The board ended up being totally inconvenient if the person pushing the stroller is taller than 4'10". I am 5'8", meaning I spent the day kicking the board with the top of my feet or taking short, awkward strides to avoid contact. I felt like my body was in the shape of an upside down J in order to push the stroller and have Clover on back with the board. It's possible to fold the board up when not in use and I tried that, but it kept dropping down, slamming into my shins. When I told Kevin about that later in the night, he said "Oh yeah, they have a strap to prevent that." Thanks for keeping that information to yourself.

We walked around briefly, looking at the giraffes and gorillas, but it was pointless because Rocket didn't care much and frequently, total jackasses would step in front of the stroller, so they could get a better view, completely blocking Rocket from seeing anything. It was one thing when kids did that, even kids old enough to know better, but it was annoying when a 65-year-old tourist with camera stepped in front of the stroller. There was room around us too, but I presumed that the photo angle the man wanted must have been right in front of Rocket. I let it go, but I wanted to tell him the zoo is for kids and if he wanted top notch wild life photos, he should go on a safari. While this was going on Clover kept asking to see the goats in the petting zoo area and when I asked if she'd rather see the penguins first or go straight to the goats, she picked goats.

There have to be goats closer to our home than those at the zoo because it felt particularly lame to have driven far and parked almost just as far, then hiked in only to see goats. Clover likes feeding the goats (in theory) and brushing them. She brought a quarter to buy the food, but she got nervous when the goats approached, so I did the feeding. This was a particularly easy day too because the goats had been very well fed by the large crowd, so they were willing to eat, but they were not ram-you-in-the-ass aggressive. (I got rammed in the ass by one of the goats before and when I told Kevin, he doubted me and thought I was exaggerating until it happened to him a few minutes later. I wish the goat would have hit him harder.)

I fed an alpaca, with whom Rocket fell madly in love and wanted to follow for 15 minutes, while Clover brushed the goats. I had moved Rocket into his sling for the petting zoo and he was dying to get out, especially when he saw a little girl about his size walking around on her own (she was 13 months) in the sheep area. Oddly enough the sheep and goats self-segregate. There is nothing stopping them from hanging out in the same area. I let Rocket out for a few minutes when he could stand up holding a fence or toy tractor, but at one point he did get down on all fours, prompting the older sister of the walking girl to yell at us that we were on dirt. I listened, picking him up and brushing off his hands and knees.

When I couldn't tolerate the petting zoo any longer, we left, starting our backbreaking hike uphill to the car, which took 40 minutes. During the walk, I realized that I had not had anything to drink that day (it was about 2 p.m.). I knew I had not eaten, but the dehydrating thing was really a nuisance because my mouth was bone dry (even though my eye continued watering - thank you Bell's Palsy!) and it felt like we were never going to reach our car, making getting a drink even more unlikely. We finally made it to the car, but an empty sightseeing bus parked near us was running, spewing diesel exhaust at us, which made the dehydration thing worse. I got the kids into the car quickly and we raced off to In-and-Out, allowing me to get a giant drink.

When we got home, I took Rocket's clothes off and changed his diaper, then I watched him crawl and climb around, playing with our dogs as happy as could be. Much, much happier than at the zoo. This was the point when I felt the most lame that day. Why did I undergo all that effort when Rocket is perfectly content at home?

Stepping Up and Running Away

I hate when people push their beliefs on their children who are too young to understand or think for themselves. I don't put shirts on my kids that say "Lil' Democrat" (and not only because I'm more of a progressive independent and hate the two party system) or "my English is better than the president's" because I want my kids' opinions to evolve on their own. They are not walking billboards for my beliefs.

I also hate hypocrisy to the point that it drives me insane. I have a friend who has lectured me on how I should be using 1-2-3 Magic on Clover, the plan that focuses on remaining calm while laying down boundaries, all while her daughter behaved like a sassy, unruly brat as my friend repeatedly stopped talking to me to yell at her daughter, who went on ignoring her mom. "It works great!" said friend, seriously. "It shows!" I wanted to say.

With one action this weekend, I was able to break the first rule by taking my kids along to a global warming event, turning me into a bit of a hypocrite at the same time because I was trying to share my concern for the environment with them. Isn't it nice how I used "share" to dilute the fact that I took my kids along with me without asking their opinion and pretended that they agreed with the message. It's a little bit like when I was dragged to Mass each week growing up and told to believe, but not really think about and certainly don't question. Well not really the same because I would like my kids to think and question, but hopefully arrive at a similar conclusion.

My post on our time at the event will be on the Silicon Valley Moms Blog tomorrow, but I left out the most annoying part of the day, which is that Clover had to be carried out of the park when we left because she loved the playgrounds so much.

When we said it was time to go, she took off running, and Kevin had to chase her down.

Once he caught her, he walked over to the fence and set her down on the other side before jumping over it himself. Of course, Clover used that moment to take off again. This is one of the many, many times I have asked Kevin why he failed to see the outcome of an action before it happened. How could he not know she was going to do that? A second chase ensued.

Finally he learned not to put her down, holding her while she squirmed and screamed, prompting everyone nearby to look concerned as this appeared to be a kidnapping in progress.

Perhaps what I learned most that afternoon was that it is possible to run fast and wily while wearing Crocs.

Customer (Un)Care

I've had to deal with customer service for a few companies this week and the experience leaves me wanting to join the Compact. I am so sick of shitty service and the worst of it is feeling totally powerless. I know that I can choose not to do business with the companies that bother me, and I do follow through with that whenever I can, but that doesn't make me feel any better about the annoyance they have already produced in my life. Coming out the loser and having to shell over money at the same time sucks.

We ordered patio furniture from a company recommended by a friend. They are a major distributor, which allowed us to get a superior set for a good price, but the problem came when the smallest part of the order, the sofa cover (yes, we got an outdoor sofa, which I promise is nice, even if it makes us sound like white trash because we have a couch outside) was missing. First call, I was told it was back ordered and would arrive "any day." Three weeks later, my email is not returned. Next call, a month and a half after the furniture arrived, I'm told this is just some odd oversight because the cover is in stock. It was supposed to have been shipped today and even though I have not received notice, I'm hoping for the best. I need to order covers for the other pieces, but I will buy them elsewhere.

Next up, I ordered some Stomp Rockets for a birthday party last week via a third party on amazon.com. As mentioned before, they FedEx'd them to the wrong zip code, meaning I did not get them for the party or Easter, as needed. A second shipment was sent and both packages arrived the same day because the company did not contact FedEx to correct the situation with the original shipment. I emailed them about this, politely saying both boxes arrived and asked for a UPS or FedEx shipping label to return the original box. They sent a terse email back a day later saying FedEx will pick it up, but will only attempt three times, so I must have it ready for them. The best part is there is no fucking way to know then this pick up will occur.

Lastly, some of the numbers on my cell phone abruptly stopped working. I have a pink Razr bought last fall that I barely use. And I don't allow the kids to play with it, so I know it is in great condition. The first service person I got was helpful, but then I was sent to the warranty department, where I was treated like a total imbecile. I was told to take off the battery and read the number on the back that started with two. I told her I couldn't find a number beginning with two and first she repeated "It begins with a two" like I am Clover's age and need to have the instructions repeated louder to get it. When I said again that none of the numbers began that way, she told me "It's there" rudely, like I was a total idiot. And I felt like one too, especially because with my watering eye, it is hard to see, so suddenly I felt like my grandparents, fumbling through, unable to grasp new technology. Then finally I explained that I was flipping the battery around and don't see anything and she said "it's on the phone!" As if I am a goddamn mind reader and knew to look on the phone when she had been talking about the battery. Anyway, her resetting didn't work, so (likely) a reconditioned phone is on the way, which annoys me too. I want a new phone. I took care of my phone, am I supposed to expect that this other phone had been cared for as well? Especially because the warranty does not start over, so if the new phone craps out in a few months, I am out of luck. Fuck you too Cingular!

This got me thinking about service and I was trying to figure out when was the last time that I had gotten good service. I knew when, it was recently. We are going to have our front deck rebuilt and when calling for estimates, one company was extremely friendly and so, so very helpful - until they dropped off their estimate for $11,000, about double the second highest estimate. This is a simple deck on top of a garage! I guess that is why they are so kind. It pisses me off that good service only comes with a high price tag.

Fire Station Tour, Sponsored by Oracle

I had an 'only in Silicon Valley' moment the other day while on a tour of our local fire station with my daughter's preschool class. When explaining the station's jurisdiction to the kids, the fireman said to the kids, "You know where Oracle is, right?" The kids looked at each other in bewilderment, but I laughed out loud. Sure, the Oracle buildings stand out, but the comment seemed to confirm the idea that we are a one industry town. Plus, asking the question of three- and four-year-olds, many of whom do not even know where they live, was funny. I didn't think any more of the comment until the end of the tour when the plastic fire hats were passed out to the kids. There was a sticker on the front of each hat with the name of the fire department and beneath that it said "Courtesy of Oracle." Now I wondered was the comment a coincidence or a contractually required plug?

Peep Guard

I really want to take a nap right now, but I can't because I am guarding the Peeps. I've thought about taking Clover's Easter basket with the Peeps to bed with me, but I'm sure if she finds me sleeping with her basket it would either be weird or it would unleash a firestorm of anger. ("What is a firestorm?!" yelled a freaked out Clover upon hearing the word for the first time the other day. She's concerned about thunder, so I could just imagine how scared she was picturing a storm of fire.) She is already annoyed with me because she wanted a Reese's egg for her daily sugary snack, but I told her no because the Easter bunny did not put any into her basket and we have to live with what the bunny gives us. The truth being that the Reese's eggs are my favorite and I'm not sharing.

Clover was allowed one Peep on Easter and she loved it. The next morning while Kevin was in the shower and I was still sleeping, Clover quietly ate three Peeps. Kevin somehow discovered this and she begged him not to tell me. Of course he immediately did and I went into action, trying to get Clover to admit what she did without coming out and forcing the issue. I asked if she had had breakfast. No. Was she hungry? Nope. I laid it on thick, saying she must be so hungry without having had breakfast and that we should have a healthy start to our day to provide us with the...blah, blah, blah. The kid kept a straight face and stuck to her story. I would have been a nervous wreak if my mom had done this to me, with the truth clearly written across my face. Finally I came out and said "I know you had Peeps this morning." Clover's mouth dropped open and she looked shocked that I had known.

Ever the evil genius, Clover realized that when I am sleep, she could do just about anything. When she found out she would not be allowed any more candy on Monday, she started asking if I was tired. When I told her no, she asked if I was going to rest in my room during naptime that afternoon. No again. Then she helpfully suggested I rest, so I could be relaxed. I finally said "You are not getting the Peeps!" "Hrrmph," she muttered.

The issue died down until this morning when I was getting dressed and Kevin (again) was in the shower. I could hear her moving out the kitchen stool and when I went into the kitchen, she was peering over her basket and licking her finger. The Peeps seemed to be untouched and she claimed to be "just licking" her finger for no reason, but I moved the basket to the top of the refrigerator for safekeeping. Many long hours later, I am really tired and I could use a cat nap, but she keeps opening her bedroom door to check on me and I know that even though the basket is out of easy reach, she will try for it. Or worse, she may find my Easter candy and eat that instead.