Tippy Toes and Tantrums

The Free Market Hates Me

It came like a blow to the stomach. Just like in college when a guy I liked told me he had made out with one of my former friends. This was worse. The sign was there when I came home from the gym last night. The house across the street is for sale. Technically the house is across the street and around the bend, we can't even see it. But they are selling their house and property, which includes the large, open space across the street that I can see. They are offering it as a possible subdivision, which would kill our view and I'm guessing the value of our house. This morning I saw a family of quail come from the open space and walk across the street. This is so wrong. Motherflippers!

I was finally ready to act on two weeks' worth of camcorder research. This morning when I was busy, Amazon said there were three available and more on order. Early this evening, when I finally has a second to myself, they were sold out, no longer being offered by Amazon, but a third party instead and the price has gone up over $50. ARRRGGGGHHHH!

New School Means New Friends...For Mom

We made an almost last minute decision to change my daughter's school when a spot at a private school opened up that we felt we could not turn down. We knew our daughter would love the new school and do well there, but I hesitated because the change in school meant I would need to find new friends too. Obviously I couldn't say no because of what the change would mean to my social life, but it took me a day before I realized the reason I was hesitating on the decision was based on my interests and not my daughter's. Not a contender for Moments in Great Parenting.

It took a few months before I found my group of friends at Clover's preschool, but we meshed and they became close friends. The change in schools meant leaving a safe place for someplace new and uncertain. It meant not seeing good friends each day. What if I don't like the new parents? What if I don't find my place? What if, even though we promise to remain friends, my old friends drift apart because it is difficult to stay connected when we are at separate schools? How is it that my daughter is elated and eagerly looking forward to the start of school, despite not knowing anyone?

At the same time I am embarrassed for feeling this way. It's silly. I'm an adult. I'm not the one being dropped off at the new place each day. Yet I still feel trepidation. I always expected I'd dread my daughter's first day of school - leaving my baby with the big kids - but she is ready, excited and I know she can handle it. I'm not so sure I can.

My husband suggested I pick up my daughter at her new school, hightail it across town in time to hangout in front of her old school as my friends drop off their children for the afternoon class. I'm not that needy. Maybe we'll wait for them at the park down the street.

Surrounded By Something

My office supervisor during a college job used to repeat like a mantra "surround yourself with masters." Her point was that being around people that were motivated and/or great would rub off. I found myself thinking about her the other day as I spent over an hour trying to coax our scared dog to jump five inches from the ledge to the step below. During this time, Rocket tried to dive off the steps several times, once using his signature blind backwards dive where he throws his head back forcing his body to follow, all while hoping for the best.

I don't think I am surrounded by masters.

Three years ago as we moved in to this house, I hired someone to build a little gate blocking the steps going up our back hill. Everyone laughed because one could just walk around the gate, rendering it useless, but I knew better. Clover is good about following directions and our dogs are stupid, so I knew a visual block to the upper yard would be enough to stop them from going up. Maddie, the smarter of the two dogs, figured out after many examinations of the gate that she could go around it by jumping from the top step to the ledge (about three to five inches) and walking around. But she's a scared dog and was too afraid to try. I've tried to get the vet to give her Prozac, but he says this is just who Maddie is and we need to live with it. I could have pointed out that he's not the one living with her, but we've moved on.

Maddie sat on the top step for awhile this week, before finally getting enough courage to make the tiny leap. Rocket tried to follow her (which is exactly why I did not want her to go up), but I stopped him. Maddie made it half way up the stairs on the hill when she started to get nervous. She left the stairs and tried to climb down the hill. She stopped and decided she could only go upward, finally reaching the top of the hill. Where she stood and stared down at us. Clover said Maddie was scared, but I thought maybe she was weighing whether she should return to us or try a new family. I was kind of rooting for the new family option when I took the kids inside for water. That is when Maddie started crying. Clover and I called her name from the back deck and Maddie made it halfway down the steps, where she stopped again and cried. By this time, I was annoyed. This is a dog! We went back inside.

Maddie finally arrived at the gate. I went out with Rocket, but I could not put him down to pick Maddie up because he would use the opportunity to do something crazy. I opened the gate, plus motioned repeatedly that she could jump down to the top step and I even left a treat there as incentive. We went back inside and waited...over a half hour before she figured out she could simply walk through the gate and down the stairs. When she made it to our back door, I asked Clover to open it for her, but after a few minutes I realized Maddie was still outside. Clover was taking pictures of overheated Maddie panting by the glass door. The dog was probably seriously reconsidering her decision to return to us.

As for Rocket, I keep telling him that some day I am not going to be able to catch him and he is going to hurt himself. That day came today when he stood up on one of the wooden kid chairs while I was on the phone and he jumped off. It was pretty graceful, actually. He dove off sideways and landed somewhat gently on the carpet. The problem was the chair followed and crashed down on his legs. He got up, only whining a little and immediately got into a fight with his sister over a cardboard wrapping paper roll. The roll slipped out of Clover's hands and hit Rocket in the face, splitting his lip and spilling blood all over his face, shirt and hands. Somehow I did not see the big injury coming from paper. I guess the big problems are the ones you don't see coming.

Public Theater

I was hungry this morning, which came as a surprise because last night I was so full, I thought that if someone poked me with a pin, I'd pop and shoot off like a deflating balloon, even making the "ppptttthhhhllltt" noise.

Kevin and I had a day away from the kids in San Francisco yesterday that was, of course, organized by me. After six years of marriage, I still hold out some hope that Kevin will arrange an outing alone for us that does not center around a stop at Home Depot. At the beginning of the year, I learned that Elvis Costello was going to play with the San Francisco Symphony around my birthday in March. I told Kevin about this, specifically and slowly highlighting the fact the it was near my birthday. We did not go.

I've wanted to see Avenue Q since it opened years ago in New York, even telling Kevin when the show was going to be in Las Vegas and while I did not (truly) expect him to organize a trip to Las Vegas, I did think he would remember that the show was something I wanted to see or that I had mentioned the show or that he had even heard about the show before. Just as with Elvis Costello, my words went unnoticed. When I saw the show was coming to San Francisco, I mentioned it and he responded with an affirmative "ummhmm" like I had remarked on the weather. A friend who had seen the show twice told me the show was not going to be extended because another show was beginning very soon after in the same theater. That day I emailed the review to Kevin without a word and he came home and said "Do you want to see that show or something? Have you heard of it before?" I knew it was up to me to take action. I secured babysitters (my parents), bought tickets and made dinner reservations at what I think is the best restaurant in San Francisco, a place I wanted to take Kevin two years ago, but at that time it was last minute and only seats at a large communal bar table was available. Kevin isn't big on communal tables, so he said no and we wound up in a place that was good, but we sat smashed up next to a woman who described in great detail how her grandfather molested her for seven years. I felt sick and the place was full, leaving us no place to move. The communal table - hell, sitting on the street - would have been better than that. After that, I decided that I should make the dining decisions alone.

We sat down for the show at the end of a row of two moms with their daughters who were in their late teens, early 20s. They were clearly tourists, bringing in their bags from shopping, and they bought up show merchandise and planned how they would get cast autographs after. The seats in front of our row stayed open until just before the performance began when a couple sat down in the seats in front of us. The guy - sitting in front of me - was wearing a cap. Not a baseball cap, but the old fashioned type of cap. It was annoying and I was concerned about my view when he took it off to start fanning himself because he was warm. Now I had his smell wafting over me. Soon I was not bothered by cap guy as another couple sat down in front of two of the tourist daughters. The woman who sat down had her hair in a twist with five (FIVE!) knitting needles sticking out of them for decoration. They were decorative needles and not true knitting needles, but they stuck out as high as four inches off the top and sides of her head, cutting into the view of the people behind her. It was clear that they were not needed to keep the twist in place; the twist was being secured by something else. I looked at the girls down our row and they both looked shocked, then mad. They glared at the back of the knitting needle lady's head. As I looked toward them, I could see a woman with a five-to-six inch mohawk coming down the aisle behind us.

Kevin and I debated which person would be worse to sit behind: mohawk or knitting needle. He said mohawk would be better because that was clearly her every day haircut and more understandable than someone who was using a hair decoration for that day, when she should have understood it would be rude. If the mohawk lady looked straight ahead, the stage view from behind may only be very slightly obscured, I said, but if she was at an angle, she could block more of the view, where at least the needles were spread out and not a solid mass. Either way it would suck. This being San Francisco, mohawk lady was wearing a very cute brown and white strapless dress. Also being San Francisco, the part in the show where a character comes out of the closet got a huge cheer, as did the line "George Bush is only for now."

As soon as the show ended, the girls next to us jumped up, saying they wanted to be first to get autographs when the cast left, prompting us to get up and out quickly. We parked in front of City Hall, where I worked for a politician while in college in the early 1990s. At that time, everyone took the elevator down to the parking garage under the park across the street because the stairwells were full of homeless people shooting up and the stairs were in general a seriously threatening place. Things have cleaned up a bit since then and the stairwell problem has been solved:

Just board it up! Brush off hands, voila, problem solved!

Dinner was excellent, so much so that Kevin regrets not taking the communal seat two years ago. We ate slowly, stretching it out longer than two hours, while dreaming of a day when our kids will be old enough and presentable enough (looking at you crazy Rocket) to go to upscale places. We left feeling very full (my plan to skip lunch beforehand didn't help as much as I thought it would) and enjoyed our peaceful drive home.

The moon on the drive out of San Francisco:

Directly across the street:

Eff You Bay! I like how they didn't spell it out, but went with the picture instead. As the mom of a child learning to read, thank you thoughtful graffiti artist! Or maybe not.

Rocket was asleep when we returned, but Clover was still awake. As we described our dinner and dessert, she listened very attentively and said it all sounded "wonderful" and "so delicious," then she told me that my skirt was "beautiful." This must be how Gayle makes Oprah feel. All in all, a perfect day.

Labeling (for) Kids

You know when you learn about something that you think is new, but then once you know about it, you see it everywhere and you realize it isn't new, just new to you and everyone already has this item or information? I've known that there is a spot on the Stanford campus known as the Enchanted Broccoli Forest, and while I wondered about it, I never checked it out. Today a catalog arrived and on a shelf in a picture there was an Enchanted Broccoli Forest book. I got to Googling and found that it is an old and famous vegetarian cookbook, which a unique house at Stanford names itself after. Ah ha! And duh! All at once.

The Mabel's Labels people sent me some labels a few weeks ago and once I saw them, I realized they are everywhere. When I opened the envelope, I recognized the style from labels that Clover's friend uses on her drink bottle at school (which was my intended use for them as they hold up through dishwasher usage). The next day I saw them on a classmates' lunch bag and backpack. The next week at camp a brother and sister had their own labels on everything. I've also seen an allergy label on another lunchbox. Once again, I felt out of the loop.

I love to label things - normally with my little Brother P-Touch, but it doesn't work for most things outside of my office organizing. The Mabel's Labels fill that niche and they have held up to the beating we've put them through. They have some no-iron clothing labels that I am eyeing because I hate trying to squeeze Clover's name onto the tags in the back, but also because Kevin has some towels from sleep away camp when he was a kid to which his mom applied iron on tags with his name. We still have those towels - which should really gross me out because they are in surprisingly good condition despite being old and the main towels of his bachelorhood. I think the good shape of the towels has more to do with limited use that overall quality, but I don't want to think about it. Anyway, I love the tags and how it makes me think of young Kevin going off on his own, even if he did hate that second year of camp and asked his parents not to send him, but they did anyway.

One tip if you do get personalized labels is to not let your child get a hold of them. Clover loves labeling things as hers and suddenly random things in her room are labeled, most of which are not wanted by anyone else, like her toothbrush that needs to be run through the dishwasher regularly to clear out the caked on toothpaste. If she hadn't run out of labels, she probably would have put one on her forehead.

Moms and Kids Campout: A Dirty Good Time

A mom in our group of preschool friends proposed a moms and kids camping trip back in May that I promised to consider, even though I quickly said "no way" in my head. I grew up camping every summer for almost every family vacation which turned me into an adult who now considers a motel as roughing it. I considered my daughter's feelings and even though I had not told her the trip was proposed, I knew she would be ecstatic over the thought of sleeping outside in a tent and roasting marshmallows over an open fire. Over the next two weeks, the organizing mom lobbied hard and we all agreed to go, and most surprisingly, no one backed out or had to cancel by the time the August trip arrived.

Six moms and 11 kids ranging in age from eight months to seven years descended on Memorial Park in Loma Mar, securing three somewhat secluded sites together at the county campground for two nights, three days. We knew that there would be fights and meltdowns - and there were - but we hoped there would be enough fun to overshadow any problems. What happened over the three days exceeded each of our expectations and was worth all the dirt, icky bathrooms and aggressive raccoons we had to put up with.

The kids were let loose, told only that they must stay within the perimeter of the three campsites, which gave them plenty of space to climb downed trees, leap logs and search the ground for undiscovered remnants of nature. Their imaginations exploded while they played pirates and explorers, all within easy sight of their moms, but with enough room to be left alone. As time went on, the kids became filthy and the boys ripped off their shirts, making it at times look like a watered down scene from Lord of the Flies as they chased each other around with sticks.

When the kids grew tired of the campsites, we trekked down to the creek or to the swimming hole to let the kids swim, skip rocks or fish for crawdads and tadpoles. At night we took a nighttime nature walk with flashlights and glow sticks, roasted marshmallows and put the dirty and exhausted kids to sleep, after which the moms would regroup at the campfire to chat and drink wine. We talked about kids, husbands, jobs, our past and our futures, all in ways that we usually do not have enough time to get into at playdates and school pickups.

The trip was peaceful, relaxing and fun. I knew my four year old would enjoy herself, but I did not expect that she would get to experience such an old fashioned good time. Like most parents, I wish my kids could experience the freedom that I did growing up, but it seems almost impossible in such an anxiety driven age. It may have been only for three days, but our kids got a taste of it.

Parting was especially hard because our kids are splitting up, going to new and different schools. I felt sad thinking that this marked the end, but one mom firmly said that the trip was the beginning of a long friendship. We've decided to make it an annual trip.

A few things I learned from the trip:

*Do not take a wind up flashlight as your main light. My husband convinced me the wind up LED light was superior to other choices, but as I wound and wound and wound the (supposedly already charged) flashlight throughout the trip, I quickly decided that next time I'll buy a Maglite. The running joke was that my tent would be attacked by an animal during the night and the last anyone would hear of me was the "rrrruuuuurrrr" of the winding flashlight.

*All kids have horrible meltdowns at some point. My husband had been convinced our daughter was schizophrenic because she could go from content to wildly screaming in a second. It's not just her: all kids are insane.

*Wasp stings hurt for a long time. The two moms of the boys first stung by Wasps were bothered by their sons crying from the pain for over an hour until one mom got stung herself and said "Oh, now I get it."

*I need to shut up at night. I can only hope that the other people at the campground enjoyed my crazy stories and impressions because I was told the second morning that my voice is especially loud and carries. Oops!

*Never underestimate the amount of s'mores kids can eat. Eleven chocolate bars just doesn't cut it. Next time we'll get the jumbo box at Costco.

Annoying Animals

We survived the camping trip and even more astonishingly, I survived my mother-in-law's visit. At times both seemed a little touch and go.

Camping was dirty, but a great time was had by all. The kids ran, swam and played hard. Clover loved her first taste of s'mores, sleeping in a tent in her new sleeping bag and studying rocks down by the creek. I loved getting a chance to talk to friends without Rocket interrupting. After the kids were all tucked in, the moms would gather round the fire to chat.

After we arrived and set up camp, we hiked down to the creek where the kids were amused for hours by nature and their imaginations. We brought with us a pre-mixed margarita jug, ice and glasses. When we first arrived at the creek, one mom already there seemed to look at all of us, then at the margaritas, finally making an unpleasant face. Shortly after, though, her face changed and she was smiling a kind of envious smile at us.

The first night several of us did not sleep at all. I have always had insomnia issues and with my usual nighttime routine broken, I could not get to sleep. I think I may have nodded off for a minute when all hell broke loose in the animal kingdom. The raccoons there were large and aggressive, so when I first heard the animal screeches, I assumed raccoons were fighting, but then things heated up fast. The noise was loud and large animals - much larger and faster than the raccoons - were racing up and down the campsite, coming very close to our tents. Their heavy breathing and snorting was so close, it was like a horror movie. It sounded like a boar. I sat there preparing myself for an attack. I was trying to find something to fight with, allowing me a break to race with Clover to the car. I was also cursing myself for having a bag of Gummy Bears in the tent with us. What if the candy lured them in? Eventually the animal snarls and screeches got father away and I felt safe, but I couldn't get back to sleep.

The next morning I found out two other moms did sleep at all and one said she stayed frozen during the animal chase, her extremities going numb, but she was too afraid to move and somehow attract the animals more. My friend walked to the ranger station where she asked what kind of animal it could have been. He said they haven't seen a mountain lion in two years and wolves and coyotes usually only come in during the winter. I didn't hear any of that and when my friend returned, she told me he said it was a mountain lion. Within a second, I was ready to pack up and go. After enjoying my look of panic, she said she was kidding, but none of us believed it was a deer as the ranger had suggested. It sounded too heavy and not as tall. Thankfully the second night passed without an animal fight.

Thursday we returned home tired and very dirty. Somehow even my clean clothes looked and smelled dirty. I showered and next Clover started to shower when our main line backed up, requiring a call to the plumber. This kind of bad timing always happens to me. The pipes were working again later that day, but it meant the laundry was delayed until Friday when I raced to get everything cleaned up for my mother-in-law's arrival that night.

I don't want to get into my mother-in-law's visit, but in short, she referred to Rocket repeatedly as "the other one," to the point that when Clover was opening up a tissue-wrapped wooden block initial that was a gift for Rocket, I fully expected it to be the letter O. She was self-centered and cold and overstepped her boundaries, all while not really caring about the kids. I wrote more, but it is probably best to walk away at this point.

It's Football Season, Y'All!

If Rocket becomes a football player, I'm certain his sister will never let him forget that she tackled him first.

Either Really Good or Really Bad, But with Marshmallows

The week is kicking off with a planned power outage to allow the power company to repair some equipment. They sent us a notice that included tips for handling the power loss where the main helpful hint was "keep refrigerator and freezer doors closed." Really? It also said not to worry because refrigerated food will last for four hours. The only problem being that the outage is scheduled for five hours. Good work!

If the outage was on Tuesday, it would be fine, as Clover and I are heading out for a mom and kid camping trip with five other moms and their kids that morning. But of course it is slated for the day I really need power. I planned ahead: all of the clothes has been washed and I've put as much food into the freezer as I can.

I'm looking forward to the trip with only Clover. It will be interesting if her horrible attitude of late will disappear once her brother is out of the picture. Mostly I am looking forward to having conversations with my friends that are not abruptly ended as I chase after Rocket. I'm going to miss the snuggly moments with Rocket, but not the racing, chasing and hurrying that takes up 98% of my day.

Last week I had to take the kids with me to a fabric giveaway at the home of an older couple who somehow get all the samples and other large scraps of fabric from the San Francisco Design Center. The point is to keep the fabric out of landfill and the only requirement is that we do not sell what we get. I got 31 pieces, mostly large, but some fat quarters. I didn't have time to really carefully consider my pieces because I was so busy trying to keep Rocket in his sling while he tried to climb out to chase dogs. It was the first time we've used our sling in two months and it was impossible because while he fit fine, he is not sedate enough - even for a moment - to sit and look out like all the other toddlers used in the ads for various slings. He needs to go and run and hit and touch. It was stressful, so I pretty much held him in with my left arm and grabbed what caught my eye, put them into my small Tub Trug with my right arm and got the kids back to the car before they could cause any damage. I envied the two other moms who were there without their children, slowly going through the many piles of fabric, piece by piece. Still, I did well. I should have brought the large trug, as the small one wasn't big enough. Now hopefully I will have an afternoon soon to go through the pieces and work on some projects.

The trug had to be emptied out of fabric for use on the camping trip. I wish I had bought two large ones instead of one big, one small. I've only had them for two weeks and not only have I used them quite a bit, but the kids love to play with them. I'm on the lookout to see if I can find them locally because I had to order my two from a garden supply site and the shipping cost sucked.

We've got a ton of snacks packed for camping, including enough smores ingredients for an army. Clover was disappointed to learn that people eat things other than smores while camping; she thought that is what we were going to have for every meal. Now she is obsessing over roasting marshmallows, worrying how to do it with catching herself on fire. She's never been camping, so I can only imagine what she is thinking. It seems she thinks you hold a marshmallow between your thumb and index finger and hold it over the fire until either it is soft or your flesh is burning. This should be fun.

I'll be back at the end of the week when my mother-in-law and brother-in-law come to visit. If I come home feeling refreshed from being Rocket-free for three days, the visit should go well. My guess is that I will come home dirty and tired with no patience for what is assuredly going to be a trying visit.

Lil' Thuggin'

During Clover's last week of camp - and last week at her preschool - she came home with an art project that she loved. As we were driving, she began raving about "crisTAL," how much she loves "crisTAL," and how much "crisTAL" makes everything pretty. It took a beat before I realized she had crystals and was not, in fact, hanging out with P. Diddy and his crew, chugging expensive champagne on the play yard.

On her very last day, when she and a classmate also moving on to kindergarten, yelled at everyone that they were "never, ever, EVER coming back," Clover came home, walked into the family room, let out a huge sigh, said "finally" and began emptying two pockets stuffed full of tanbark taken from her preschool. She never brought home any bark - or anything that wasn't hers - in the two years she attended. She ripped off the school on her way out of there. Senior prank or memento?

Her thug week did not end there. One evening she was playing with a wooden vegetable set pretending to cut them with the dull, wooden knife included with the toy. Rocket casually walked up, grabbed a cucumber and ran. She ran after him yelling "I'm chasing you with a KNIFE!" He dropped the cucumber. I don't know if it was the threat of being stabbed with a dull, wooden knife or if it was because he'd achieved his goal of annoying his sister.