Tippy Toes and Tantrums

One is the Loneliest Number

After having a second child - whom I love dearly, do not get me wrong - there have been moments where I have been nostalgic for one. There are clear benefits to having only one child. Over the last three days, I've come to realize that it isn't so much the number of children, but that age/stage/maturity of the child that matters most.

Clover left Saturday morning without looking back to spend a few days with her grandparents. When she was with her grandparents earlier in the month, Rocket did not miss her a bit. This time, however, he has been miserable without her, which means I have too. It's not like he goes into her room and weeps into her pillow. He doesn't miss her that way. Instead, his energy levels build up and up without his sister here to provoke, play with or fight with. This means he has spent his time bitching at me. I didn't realize how much energy goes into his tormenting of Clover. Without her around, he tried to focus on the dogs, but they can sleep through his antics, so he has turned to me instead, wanting to be held or else trying to provoke me by dumping the remaining sludge from my mocha on the ground (I told myself there are worse brown things to clean up from the carpet) or taking off my sunglasses, only to suddenly jam them in my eye, then laugh.

Rocket has grown a lot in the past few weeks too. Last time Clover was away, he was very happy to play on the floor with me and our one hour trips to the pool wiped him out. Every day he becomes more of a boy and his latest transformation has added a ceaseless desire to be outside at all moments possible. He points out the window, saying something between a grunt and "out." He does that even after coming inside after being out for a hour. Yesterday he heard a helicopter while he was inside and lost his mind because I denied him the pleasure of seeing the helicopter. But I knew what would have happened: we would have run out, he would have pointed at the helicopter in the sky, then he would have slithered down and tried to run away toward the dirt, rocks, grass, steps, suckering me into outside play.

We tried to go to dinner Saturday night, picking a family friendly chain where he could be loud and not be disturbing. My sister was there too and we all took turns holding him and walking him around. (This was still not enough to keep the 55 year old man at the table next to us from glaring anytime Rocket made a noise. The man was having an incredibly painful dinner with his probably 19 year old daughter. The parents are divorced and I'm guessing the girl is not so keen on her dad. Who is the sucky parent now, mister?!) The dinner was tiring and not fun. I miss Clover and her ability to sit still and remain quiet, even if it takes bribing her with dessert. I kept thinking of all the nice places we could go to dinner with Clover. Will I ever see those places again? My mother-in-law reminds me there was a time we felt uncomfortable eating out with Clover too; I only vaguely remember it, but I think it was a short period. I have a feeling Rocket's anti-restaurant phase will be longer.

This morning Rocket and I hit the park at 8:30 a.m. because he demanded to go out and I thought it would be the perfect time to let him set the agenda at the park as opposed to being forced to follow his sister around. Rocket is a social butterfly and the park was empty. He hated every second. I went down a slide with him once, which I never did with Clover. I always had time to walk her to the top, then run back down to the end of the slide to guide her down. I wasn't about to let go of Rocket's hand because he would surely dive off the platform head first, so down the slide we both went. We left the park when it was clear he didn't want to do anything without other kids around. We drove around town searching for a coffee house that I was told had a play area for kids, but I couldn't find it. We returned home only to have Rocket start throwing things around to entertain himself.

I miss Clover. I miss having a four year old. She is full of attitude, but she entertains herself. She wears shoes and holds my hand without me feeling like I am trying to break a wild horse. She goes to the library or to the store without trying to knock things down or throw things. I asked a friend with two boys when they become more tame in public. She said not before age three. Two more years?!

My little prince is yelling from his crib. I must go get him before he teaches himself to climb out. That trick is just around the corner, I'm sure.

Hopefully Not the Eye of the Storm

Clover has been better since the tantrum earlier this week, which Kevin seems to think supports his theory that she is schizophrenic. It ends up that she is only better for me, though, and can switch on the attitude for Kevin in a second. Because I am off the hook, I don't care as much. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, you know? I hear her getting mad at Kevin and I simply enjoy that I am not involved. My status as favored parent can be dropped any second and I am smart enough to enjoy it while it is here.

When I returned home from the gym last night, Clover was in bed screaming at Kevin from behind her closed door. I tried to ignore it, which is what Kevin seemed to be doing too. Kevin took some garbage outside and as soon as the door shut behind him, she came to me and politely asked for some ice in her water. I said okay, but she needed to bring me her glass, which she ran to quickly retrieve. I brought her the water and she very sweetly said "Thank you mommy." Later Kevin told me that Clover had been yelling because she had asked him for water without saying please and when he asked for the special word, she yelled "I'm not going to say it!" She finally did say it, but when he asked for her glass, she told him to get it himself. He said no and that was where it ended, except for her screaming. He could not believe that her tact with me was so different.

Clover walked in the from the backyard this week and left the screen door open. Kevin politely reminded her to close it and she did, but she screamed "YOU MAKE ME DO EVERYTHING AROUND HERE!" She's Cinderella to Kevin's wicked stepmother. It reminded me of a day when we returned home after school and errands and while I held Rocket, plus grocery bags, the mail, and empty baby bottles, I asked if she would carry her lunch bag into the house. She screamed "I ONLY HAVE TWO HANDS!" Both hands were empty at the time. I wanted to point out that the handles of her lunch bag could go on her wrist, allowing her to maintain free hands, but why provoke?

The good news is Clover is going to her grandparents' house this weekend, not to return until Tuesday morning. This was the upside of my mother's concern; she feels I need a break and I am not going to argue. Rocket will still be with us, but other than being fidgety at restaurants, his antics are easier to handle. He seems to be in training for the X Games or the next Jackass movie, but that is only physically taxing for me, not emotionally draining, like Clover's tantrums.

Rocket gave Clover a little taste of my life yesterday. My in-laws bought him a little rooster flashlight toy that makes noise and lights up when you squeeze his tail or push back his head. He likes it, but he likes it best when someone else activates the rooster and he can watch from a few feet away, then slowly walk closer as his bravery grows. He gave me the rooster several times indicating he wanted me to make it crow (is that the word for what they do?), but it gets old fast. Rocket soon realized that Clover knows how to do it too, so when I get tired of it, he brings it to Clover for her to do for him. After he interrupted her coloring for the fifth time, she sighed and said under her breath "I can't get anything done around here." She is stealing my lines!

More Crap in 90 Minutes Than Most People See in a Week

Raising kids (Kevin says it is proper to say "rearing," but that sounds perverse to me) is hard. Nothing new to report there; been going on for centuries. I just cannot fathom why my mom seems to have forgotten that.

She sent me an email that laid the guilt on thick over a stupid subject - her kitchen remodel plans. Using guilt is my mom's main M.O. It always has been and there seems to be no end coming. I responded that I have a lot going on and I didn't need to hear it from her. She replied immediately that she is worried something serious is going on that I am withholding from her. Typical of my mother, she figures it must be marital woes, cancer or something else horrible that leaves me unwilling to shoulder blame for a lack of enthusiasm about her soon-to-begin kitchen remodel. Forget the obvious, which is that I just don't have the time or energy to care about her kitchen.

I replied that within 90 minutes today:
Clover threw her backpack at me during camp pick up and then barked an order that I pick it up ASAP.
Clover almost slapped me, still in front of the other mothers from her camp (she has never hit me and she wisely caught herself).
Clover wet her pants because she was too busy playing to be bothered with the bathroom. When I asked if she'd like to wear diapers again, she responded that yes, in fact, she would like to wear diapers and could I give her one (she was sincere - totally calling me on my bluff).
Clover left open a bag of cotton candy from Sunday's party, which has attracted all ants within a 30 mile radius.
Rocket is teething, crying and glued to me.
When not attached to me, he has discovered the toilet and toilet paper.
Clover's friend is here because her mom is sick.
I had to pick up a week's worth of dog poop from the back lawn.

I kept my cool during all of this, never raising my voice or showing Clover I was upset, even though on the inside I wanted to drop her off in the woods and speed away. In the back of my mind, I was thinking about my sister. My sister who has NO CHILDREN, but tells me I have an anger management problem and need help. Her comment came in December when Clover refused to smile for our Christmas card photo and after trying in vain to get her to participate, I confided in my sister that inside I felt like throttling Clover. I should never have said such a thing to a person who does not have kids or is not around kids all the time. My sister is convinced I am a loose canon ready to go off at any moment. I think I am typical and sadly, this is a fairly typical day. Somehow, though, my mom has forgotten what it is to be a mom to young kids. She is calling me tonight so we can talk about it. Great, one more chore. (I would avoid her call, but then she'd really think the worst.)

One Weekend, Three Parties, Total Exhaustion

Two parties were for Clover's friends, the third party was for moms only. The kid parties were actually fun, but like all kid parties, they were a complete energy drain. I got cornered a few times in painfully boring conversations (in one such conversation a mom said she immediately liked another mom because she reminded her of "Jean Ann Gar-A-fole-o." I took me a second to break it down in my head, trying to remember if there was a Garafoleo family in the preschool, but then it clicked and I wanted to shout "Janeane Garofalo!"), but otherwise it was nice to see some of our friends that we haven't talked to since school got out.

Sunday afternoon Kevin met me at the second birthday party of the weekend to take Clover home while I headed to Stefania's house for a Wii party. Even if Nintendo wasn't trying to promote its system, it was a really great mom's only event, especially because there was an open bar and yummy food. One mom, while looking at the charcutrie spread on the outside table that also featured thick cuts of rich cheeses and fresh bread, noted that this was an excess of riches, but said in a way that conveyed how happy she was to be partaking.

Kevin loves to sometimes fantasize about winning the lottery and what he would do with the money. I hate playing along because it is just never going to be reality (especially when we don't play the lottery, kind of a stumbling block to the dream...), but after the Wii party, I think that if we ever win the lottery, I'm hiring a cocktail staff to serve me. Having a bartender in my kitchen to make those tasty mojitos would be heavenly, especially when followed by a crab cake or a hunk of roquefort cheese.

The games were fun and I met some cool girls from Oakland who made my childhood Chinese jump rope skills seem totally inadequate. (We used to bring the rope up to the knees only, while they would bring it up past their armpits, which required cartwheels and acrobatics. I was so sheltered!)

Kevin was waiting for me at the door when I returned home, eager to hear all about it (and a little jealous too). We have a Wii - rather Kevin has a Wii - but I never play it. After today, I'm inclined to host a little mom party to play it. Nintendo is giving us a free controller, which means we only need one more for doubles tennis. Now if I could just convince Kevin to play bartender because those mojitos were good.

Misery Loves Company

The in-laws visit went fine, believe it or not. Clover was well behaved and only let her sassy attitude out in small bits and Rocket was his usual social self, which was great except the two times we ate at restaurants and he just wanted to check the place out instead of sitting and eating quietly. But oh well.

The fact that it went well and was relaxing is a big surprise because Friday was hectic and I was so tightly wound before they got here, it seems certain that I would snap over something small. The house was cleaned while Clover was in camp and Rocket napped. It was sparkling and would only remain that way if I kept the kids away. We picked up Clover at camp, returned home for a few minutes to feed Rocket lunch while I boiled corn for a very tasty corn salad, then zipped off to my gym, where I took the kids swimming. We swam for an hour then played on their playstructure, which had me exhausted, but not Rocket, who should have been ready for an afternoon nap.

We returned home after 4 p.m. and I dressed Rocket in his nice clothes for their visit and put him down for his nap. The poor boy is ready to switch to two naps a day, but that does not work for me until August, when Clover finishes camp. Rocket cried. He screamed. He yelled like he was a trapped animal. I continued cooking because I had to get dinner prepped. Sometime around 4:30 I decided to get him up and let him walk around the house screaming and maybe he would occupy himself while I worked. When I went into his room, the real stress began.

When Rocket is overtired and wants attention, he gags himself. We stop him (giving in to the attention ploy), all while he laughs. Kevin will flick Rocket's face with water, which I hate because he isn't a bad kitty, and Rocket laughs and stops the gagging. The problem is Rocket began gagging himself in his room and without anyone there to stop him, he vomited. Everywhere. I should also note that he had a very colorful lunch - blueberries, strawberries and raspberries, among other things. He had a bottle of milk too, so there was a purple-ish sludge everywhere. His hair was standing straight up, his eyebrows were standing straight up, both with puke. It was all over his clothes. His Robeez were saturated. It was through his sheet and on the mattress pad. It was all around the slats of his crib. It was on the floor, his blanket and his lovey Bluey. It was everywhere. And it smelled.

I took him out of the crib and began frantically cleaning, all while he screamed at me as I ran back and forth between the kitchen and his room. I ripped off his bedding, clothes and everything else that could go into the washer and started it up. I had to wipe between and behind each crib slat. Finally, I turned to him and tried to figure out how to clean out what had been clean hair. I was mad too, so I took him and put his forehead under the sink and ran lukewarm water over his hair while he yelled because he hated it. Then I tried drying him with a dish towel, but it was clear it did not clean his hair enough. Next stop: the tub. I filled his tub up and plopped him in it, adding a lot of shampoo on his head and really worked it through. Bubbles were everywhere and he cried more because his is used to a very gentle and slow washing. I got his washed off, dried off and into his room for clean clothes. After dressing him, I started crying because it was just too much, especially because the dinner really needed to get moving as now my in-laws could arrive at any moment. Also, it still smelled like puke and that was when I realized it was all over me too. I grabbed Rocket and brought him into the other bathroom while I took off my dirty clothes and jumped in the shower.

After I got cleaned off, I went to check on Clover and found that she had completely unmade her bed and her room was a mess. I remade the bed and got her room straightened up when - thankfully - Kevin walked through the door. He watched the kids while I got dinner ready. After everything was ready, my in-laws did not show up for a few minutes more, which was perfect because it allowed me a brief time to shake off that afternoon.

The rest of the weekend was busy, but it went fine. They spoiled the kids with toys and took us out to two great meals. When they left Sunday I was exhausted, only to have my mother-in-law call. I should explain that the weekend visit was my father-in-law and Kevin's stepmom. Kevin's mother rarely calls us, but always does on the weekend that his father comes to visit. Coincidence? Not so much. His mother was calling with some news: she's decided that she'd like to come visit - and Kevin's brother too - so how's next month?

The In-Laws Are Coming! The In-Laws Are Coming!

During my son's morning nap - normally the sweetest part of my day while my daughter is at school or camp and the house is quiet - I got a call from my father-in-law saying that they waited too long to book a flight for August, but they could get a last minute deal if we were free...this weekend. Gulp.

Of course my answer was yes, they could come, because in truth, we have had a pretty light weekend planned. They arrive Friday night and leave Sunday morning, allowing a "brief glimpse" (his words) of the kids. They haven't seen the kids since Christmas, so the quick visit is a rocky issue for me, but if we say anything about it, they respond that we are welcome to fly East to visit them anytime.

Now instead of sitting on my ass reading blogs keeping abreast of the news via the internet, I have to do a major house cleaning. First I cleaned out the refrigerator, then we went to Whole Foods to stock up, even though I haven't thought about what I need to make for meals. Now I am doing laundry. The hardest thing is that even though they are essentially here for one day, they need entertainment. We always need to go on an excursion, which isn't so easy when one grandchild still naps twice a day, limiting our free time to three hours during mid-day. Last year I sent them to Webb Ranch to pick strawberries. I guess we could go to Half Moon Bay for a few hours, but that means two cars and sitting in traffic on Highway 92.

Then there is conversation. I hope they don't ask how much the new play structure cost, why we are considering private school or better yet, when I plan on returning to work full-time.

Sigh...

With such a short visit, it will be over before I know it. At least that is what I keep telling myself. Off to clean...

Tempted

When picking up our mail earlier this week (the box is across the street, but I make it sound like I had to get on a tractor and go into town) there was a thick business sized envelope from an inmate in the state penitentiary. It was completely misdelivered - we had the same street number and part of the same street name, but it was intended for someone in Southern California. It even had the full nine digit zip code for the Southern California town, but still the post office botched the delivery. Good work USPS!

Anyway, I was dying to open the letter. The bottom corner was ripped, allowing me to see that it only contained a long letter, but I did not peek at it beyond that. I was imagining all the things the letter could contain. Maybe it was a long love letter or the prisoner was asking forgiveness from his mom, girlfriend, baby mama, whomever. Maybe he was simply explaining what his life was now like. But then I thought, maybe he is some sicko torturing his victim from behind bars and this envelope only brings pain to the recipient. My guess is that it was just a letter from a lonely person.

Kevin, on the other hand, thought I should open it to see if it contained any prison-grade hash. (I think he was joking.)

Hobbits Welcome!

Kevin put up the swing and trapeze bar while Clover was at my parents' house and apparently in that time, he forgot how tall she really is. It is hard to tell from the photo, but the height he put them at looked like we were expected gnomes to use them.

Clover's head is higher than the bar and the swing comes to her knees. I had him raise them, only to raise them again when she returned. Somehow she always looks taller after we've been apart for a few days. Oh, and that retaining wall in the background? It's a bigger problem that we thought. I was so focused on the kids jumping off the front of the swing that we didn't think that they are just barely going to clear the retaining wall in back. Small lawn = cramped set. Maybe I should check our liability insurance.

Play Time Ahoy!

The pirates have landed!

The playstructure is up and finished, later than we had hoped, but at the same time, sooner than expected. It was probably 12 hours of Kevin's hard work, with my dad assisting on some of that. It was definitely do-able and he did a great job. Having it professionally installed would have had it done sooner, but it was worth saving the money on installation and instead spending it on an additional toy for the structure. The kids love it.

Pirates do not pose for pictures! I was told that by the head pirate. After looking at her and the junior pirate she calls her "pirate's assistant," it seems pirates don't brush their hair either.

One-on-One

Even though I am alone with my one year old frequently when Clover, my four year old, is out at camp or school or at another drop off activity, this week has been different. Clover is at her grandparents' house for a few days of complete and utter spoiling that will keep her talking for weeks about how much better her life is while she alone with them. "Nonnie lets me have pancakes AND a snowcone!" This week her time away has given me the opportunity to fully focus on her brother Rocket and to let him call the shots, and boy, has life been nice.

In just two days, I've learned that Rocket would really like to scale back to one nap a day. This past year, I've done a good job of making sure he gets to nap in his crib rather than the car seat, but that doesn't mean sleep time has worked to his liking. Many days I either have to wake him up or at the moment he wakes up on his own, we dash out the door with a bottle, hurrying off to some activity that almost always revolves around Clover. The poor guy's awake time normally centers on hurrying to get some place, then waiting for his sister or the activity to end, then hurrying off to the grocery store, back home and back into the crib for an afternoon nap.

Another surprise was that Rocket loves the pool. He was normally ornery in the pool, which I thought meant he hated the water, but it ends up what he really hates is his sister grabbing the water toys away from him and splashing in his face. Go figure. He has loved swimming without his sister around, even if other kids around splash him, it is still not as annoying as having your older sibling do it.

Both Rocket and I have been more relaxed the past few days and it is impossible to figure out that if my relaxed state rubbed off on him or vice versa. It's been nice to get on the floor and play with him without interruption. My husband is more relaxed too. The last burst of preschooler insanity that normally comes out before bedtime is taxing on everyone. After putting Rocket to bed, we've had time to sit outside alone and talk while enjoying the cooler nighttime air. It feels like we've returned to the civilized adult world.

Clover was an only child for three and a half years and I knew before we had a second child that having one would be easier than two. It took more time and heartache than expected to get Rocket, but we love what he has added to our lives. Maybe it is a child's age/stage more than the number of kids that impacts family life. When the two play together it is magical that is until one (usually Clover) changes the tone of play and the other (usually Rocket) is either becomes upset or aggressive. Clover's whining and complaining are draining and it not only changes how I treat her, but it robs me of energy needed for handling Rocket. I don't wish to go back to one child, but it is nice to have the opportunity to really see them and enjoy them one on one.

Clover returns in one more day and I plan on squeezing the most out of the remaining time. Rocket and I have planned a walk, a swim, and a leisurely trip to the Farmer's Market. Of course, that is if he wants to do these things because this time is all about him.