Tippy Toes and Tantrums

Something's Growing

When Clover heard that I was selling the bright plastic toddler slide, she was upset. Never mind that we have a large play structure with a big kid slide. She wanted the baby slide too, despite not having used it in over a year. She surprised me by suddenly dropping her opposition when she heard what I was doing. When I said I was reclaiming some of the backyard, she was angry, but when I said vegetable bed, she was thrilled.

For the past two years, I've wanted to replace the ratty wood chip area that housed some of the kids' toys and make it into a more pleasant garden. Taking over the entire space at once would be too much for the kids to handle, so last year I decided that this Spring I would get rid of the slide and put in a vegetable bed. Maybe next year I'll plant some flowers to the right of the bed and then finally I will get rid of the plastic playhouse and claim the entire level for myself. I have an herb bed envisioned for the playhouse area, so I am giving Rocket another two years with that house before it goes bye-bye.

For the record, I had this idea way before the Obamas. Just sayin'.

The kids were starting too get too comfortable with the dirt when Rocket announced, as if he'd just realized it, "We don't have a sandbox!" Maybe I wasn't being so kind when I responded with "And you never will!" The kids suggested that once we are ready for the playhouse to go, we could put in a sandbox. They don't share my dream of an herb garden, for some reason.

Fairy Happy

During our first parent meeting at the start of the school year, the teachers asked us to go around the circle introducing ourselves and sharing a memory from either kindergarten or first grade (it's a k-1 class). My first grade memories are of the time I did not believe Jenny when she told me island was spelled like it is and the other was when this horrible, evil long term sub (the sweet first grade teacher was out on maternity leave) grabbed me by the ear and shoved me across the room after I pulled out a chair to sit down and as a joke Steve sat down the same time I did. He was being funny, there wasn't much noise from the seat incident and it certainly wasn't my fault, but the teacher grabbed me and shoved me to an empty table, actually into the empty table as I hit it hard. As much as I may be a pain in the ass adult, I was not that way as a first grader and if a teacher ever did such a thing to my child, I would be the biggest pain in the ass the system ever met. I decided that may not be the story to share with the class as it wasn't group therapy, so I told a story about kindergarten instead.

My well meaning kindergarten teacher made a huge poster with all of the kids names on it and each time a child lost a tooth, a gold star went by his or her name. Now I realize this is a blessing, but I have crazy strong teeth and it took until first grade to lose my first baby teeth and that was only because the dentist pulled them out. My two lower front adult teeth came in, but the baby teeth were determined to stay, forcing the dentist to take action. This meant that I went the entire kindergarten year watching my classmates rack up gold stars while my line remained embarrassingly empty. I don't know what sticker availability was like in the late 70s, but I don't think gold stars were the best choice in this situation as it linked losing teeth to achievement in our little minds.

Even if not linked with achievement, kids who haven't lost a tooth seem to feel left out, most likely due to not having a tooth fairy visit. They hear about money or special coins or even toys left behind. At least Clover did, making her wish for a tooth to fall out so she could share in the excitement. At the dentist a year ago, he pointed out the her lower front adult teeth were moving in, which meant that she should start losing teeth soon. Because of my experience, I knew better.

Clover was thrilled in December when she came out of class complaining that her mouth hurt. I looked in to see a little blood and that one of those front teeth had finally loosened it's grip. In an effort to encourage the tooth to fall out, she started babying it by trying not to use it, which ironically meant it was less likely to come out.

Finally last night, after months - if not years - of waiting, it fell out. She exuberantly began preparing for the tooth fairy. She washed the tooth and she placed it in her tooth pillow, which she decided to put at the foot of her bed for easy tooth fairy access.

While the tooth fairy had plenty of warning, she became complacent, thinking that the tooth would never fall out, so when it did, she wasn't exactly ready. There was also a debate about the going tooth rate, factoring both inflation and the recession, not to mention laziness about having to repeat this multiple times between two kids. The tooth fairy left a dollar and some fairy dust, mostly because the fairy dust is left at a friend's house and the tooth fairy knows playground comparisons are bound to happen. The tooth fairy did not leave a note because the type of paper and handwriting could be traced back.

Clover was ecstatic this morning, showing her brother the money and the glittery dust, but when she saw me, she complained that there was no note. I said I didn't know if the tooth fairy left notes. "She did for some of my friends!" Clover said. I wanted to say "Who are these people? Give me their names so I can crank call their mothers!" But before I could say anything, Clover said that next time the tooth is going deep under her pillow because that is probably why no note was left. I don't understand her logic, but I'm bright enough to know that more work has just been created for me.

Rocket has lower standards than Clover and for that, I am very grateful.

After I shared my kindergarten story with Clover's class, her teachers said they used a similar chart, but kids who have not lost any teeth get a sticker with a big, toothy grin. I don't know if they had second thoughts after my story, but the chart has yet to go up in the classroom.

Terror Threat: A Very Pale Beige

We have an open backyard, mostly because we live on a hill and the cost to fence our property would be crazy. I always wondered how many East Coast people could live without fences and the privacy they bring. If I could fence our yard, I would, not due to privacy, but because I am always worried someone or thing will wind up in our backyard. Our dog has wandered off several times, climbing the hill to freedom, only to freak out once she got there and cry until one of us climbed up to get her. Or there were the few times she took it as her chance to live with the neighbors, climbing down into their backyards. Mostly I spend too much time worrying that a mountain lion or an axe murderer will attack the children as they play.

Because I am on high alert, I assume everyone else here is too, but I was proven wrong today when two burly men showed up in our backyard.

"Ummmm, something's happening in the backyard?" was how Rocket alerted me. Maybe he's already figured out that he needs to stay calm and nonchalant when breaking big news to me.

In the dog's defense, she did bark a few times.

(While unscheduled, the men were here to do some work in the yard. They are not axe murderers - as far as I can tell - and I am not running a Chippendales out of the house.)

The Day After

Where I would like to live: Chez Panisse

Dinner Saturday night was perfect, even better than imagined, mostly because I think we had the best table in the restaurant, in what felt like a tree house that had a view of the Golden Gate Bridge.

My trainer was on me all day Sunday to workout. I put on yoga pants and tennis shoes, mostly to be comfortable for the first lazy day we've had in weeks and Rocket immediately asked if we were going for a walk and when I said no, he responded with, "Okay, let's do exercises!" He kept at it for the whole day and thanks to years of neglecting regular exercise, I was able to ignore him until this morning. When I said no to exercise yesterday, he started running laps in the house all while smiling at me in his subtle way to make me feel bad.

Our usual routine with the Wii Fit is that he does the yoga poses with me, but then monitors my aerobic progress from a reclined position on my bed. "Good job mom!" or when my Mii looks dejected, "She's sad. You better do it again." If I decline, he sometimes says, "No! Do. It. Again."

This kid's program is a lot cheaper than my gym membership.

Naturally Smart

Without looking at the box, I'm going to assume that Tag-a-longs are full of protein, therefore make a fine lunch substitute.

I feel like I interrupt people all the time, yet when my lunch was cooking on the stove, I could not get myself to stop our cleaning lady from talking so I could check on the food. That was until I saw the smoke pouring out of the kitchen. Even my mother would not have been able to scrape all of the burnt parts off my grilled cheese. It was a goner, but it was also time for mommy and me class, leaving no time for lunch.

Mommy and me class is not the place for an empty tummy, mostly because it made me extra grumpy today when listening to a mom boast about how many of the letters her almost three year old knows. "She's especially smart," according to her mom. I did stop myself from shouting "CALL HARVARD! ALERT THE MEDIA!" This was the same mom who said her daughter was allergic to sugar during the first class when the teacher was saying she usually offers a protein and a fruit for snack. The mom somehow took that to mean gum drops.

We stopped home briefly after class to check my NCAA brackets. I spent too much time yesterday morning making my picks and when Rocket came in to talk to me when I was deep into the decision making, I pretty much barked at him to leave me alone while I work. Yes, I called it work. And no, I'm not proud..but I am of my brackets! They are rocking.

Your Birthday is Coming Up!

Rocket was so crushed when it was Clover's birthday in November that I had to summon all of my enthusiasm to keep saying to him "Your birthday is coming up!" His birthday was coming up...in seven months, far enough away that Kevin would not go along with exaggeration. This morning when he resisted a big snuggle from me, I told him it was my birthday and couldn't I get a hug (which made me feel like that creepy relative the kids never want to kiss). Rocket said no, but very reassuringly added, "Your birthday is coming up!" in the same excited, but slightly condescending tone I'd used with him.

His tune change an hour later when the cupcakes arrived. He ran to me, clapped his hands and shouted "Guess what?! It's your birthday, mama!" Then he cried when we said the cupcakes were for later. No birthday is complete without crying.

He ripped open a few of my birthday cards, until he found a favorite. It looks like the cake order form of his dreams. He keeps picking out which one he is going to get.

Clover feels like my birthday robs her of the joy of a fully celebrated St. Patrick's Day. She seems to imagine other households having Christmas-sized parties tonight, while she has been asked to do her best to be quiet and leave her mother alone. As a consolation, I sent to school some Lucky Pennies to be passed out, thanks to an idea from my brilliant friend Jo-Ann.

A friend of mine asked where I got the lucky pennies, which made me laugh. I told her they likely are produced at the same factory making Mexican jumping beans. Or that I just found them around our house and shined them up. Either way, they're lucky.

Tip Me Over and Pour Me Out

As a friend pointed out, I had a very adult weekend. What that really means is that I drank a grotesque amount of wine.

This is what our table at the school auction looked like as we sat down (notice I had already consumed enough wine to go pilfer fresh strawberries and raspberries from the catering trays):

Here's what the table looked like at the end of the night when I realized I was an island amongst empty cups, which I promise did not all belong to me:

My table neighbors must have pushed their empties toward me because there is no other logical explanation.

The next day I was up and back at it for a friend's spectacular 40th birthday party, where we had amazing Indian food for lunch and, of course, more wine.

Oddly enough, I woke up this morning feeling better than I have in weeks.

Nothing Remarkable

I don't even want to think about the bad luck these two created by walking back and forth underneath this giant ladder. Or maybe it is a regular sized ladder and my kids are teeny tiny gnomes?

This week has been such a whirlwind of busy that I am looking forward to Monday when it will slow down a little. I've never before said that I was looking forward to a Monday. It's that bad (and I really need a nap).

Tonight I need to write a birthday card to an old friend and while I've never asked her this, we probably both sometimes long for the life that the other one has. But then, maybe it is just me. She's single, doesn't have children, and lives in a city. She can wake up whenever she wants! She can have anything she feels like for dinner! She can spend all day Sunday reading the newspaper! She plays in a tennis league! It's not that I regret my life at all, it's just like I said: I really need a nap this week and I'd like to walk through the family room one time during the day when no one asks for either a drink or a snack.

Anyway, my friend and I have birthdays around the same time and we send each other cards with a lengthy run down of what we've each been doing. Right now I feel bored by myself. It's hard to explain being completely busy, yet having nothing to report. Maybe I should print out my last 10 Twitter updates instead.

Along the same lines, I'm going to another friend's birthday party this weekend, where as part of an ice breaker, this week the guests had to submit what they are most proud of in the past year that is not work or family related. I couldn't think of a thing, so I turned to Kevin, who couldn't think of anything either. He suggested I think about the garden and if anything of note happened there. I watered the plants enough that most of them lived? I bought more birdseed? I settled on that fact that I refinished the kitchen cabinets and painted the walls. It made a dramatic change in the light and feel of the kitchen, but on my life? I wouldn't say so, but when compared to stocking a bird feeder and only killing one out of three lavender plants, maybe?

It would have crossed over into work and family, but the honest answer would have been "I kept it all afloat," and when it comes down to it, that's not so bad.

Obscured View

I had forgotten that we were given tickets to the Thomas and Friends stage show until one day when the kids were watching PBS and there was a little ad for the show. I looked up and said "Oh, we're going to that." Both kids went crazy, just like I would have had someone looked up at the Beaches Resorts ads in between PBS shows and said "Oh, we're going to that."

We arrived early, loving our great seats, until a minute before the show started when a huge dad showed up with his two kids. He sat down in front of Clover, so she and I swapped seats allowing her to see a little more of the stage. Not only was the guy huge, he also wore a baseball cap that couldn't fully fit on his huge head.

Once the show started, the dad started taking photos, with his elbows out in order to maximize the amount of space he was taking up. Actually I was surprised by the number of people pulling out their camera phones to take photos of the show. One mom two rows ahead of us was recording a video on her camera. Because her viewfinder was in my view, I was watching her shaky recording and imagining the headaches that will be produced by watching her recording. After awhile, large dad's family managed to take up more room when the four or five year old son stood on his chair. I could hear the mom behind me having to rearrange seating because her child couldn't see behind this tall kid. When the boy leaned in against the dad, forming a giant wall in front of us, I got really annoyed. When a few minutes went by, I finally asked as nicely as I could if he could sit down. And he did, but what the hell, dad? I stopped myself from saying, "and take your damn hat off!"

The finale, as seen by me.

The show was cute, the kids loved it. I would have thought Clover was too old for it, but she had a great time. Every time I looked over at Rocket, his face looked just like Percy's. I took Clover to a Dora stage show at this same theater a few years ago and she loved it too. While not the most exciting stage show for adults, I love that these kid-centric performances introduce kids to the theater in a gentle way. They get experience sitting down in theater chairs, watching the stage and listening to the performance. It's like theater training wheels, in a way.

Afterward we went to pick up some amazing pizza and as quick as I walked up to the bar to order, Rocket popped up on the bar stool, started watching the baseball game on TV and looked as though he was waiting for his beer. My boy, so precocious.

While we waited for the pizza, we introduced them to Phish Food. I don't think they knew such a thing could exist outside of their dreams.

Squishy

The making of a totem pole in Clover's class

Of course the places cell phones are prohibited are the places I want to take pictures. Even if I was able to use my phone, some of the photos would be inappropriate, but I still wanted to take them.

I had my first mammogram yesterday; mostly a screening, but partially because there is something going on in my left breast. When I took the matter to my doctor last month, I had hoped the whole thing would be easily laughed off, like when I first did a breast exam in my 20s and found a massive lump. My then-doctor told me I was pressing way to hard and was actually feeling bone or something else unrelated to my breast.

At first the nurse felt it and said it was an enlarged milk duct, a sort of memento from breast feeding. Then a minute later she said it could be a cyst, but that it felt totally normal. Another minute later, she added, "But it's a good thing you are going to get it checked out" as I am closing in on 38 years of age and it was time to get a baseline screening anyway. Then about two minutes later, she said "But, you know, the radiologist may want to biopsy it just in case." Within minutes, we'd gone from no biggie to quite worrisome. If she kept talking, I'm sure she'd have me at stage 4 cancer in another minute or two.

The radiology imaging waiting room would not be mistaken with a spa waiting room. A pretty motley bunch looked up as I walked it and tried to find a socially acceptable seat, as the current occupants had already spread themselves out equidistantly. Generally anytime I am without Rocket, I immediately relax, yet this place was too tense for me to drop my shoulders and take a deep breath. I seemed like the most happy go lucky person in the room, despite having a lump in my breast, so I guessed that the people around me were there for much more worrisome procedures. I was the youngest person in the room by far, making 37 years old seem downright child-like.

As soon as the tech walked in and said, "Kim?" another woman jumped up and bolted toward her, clearly full of anxious energy. "Did you say 'Barbara?'" the woman asked the tech. Clearly tensions were running high.

The mammogram went fine. It hurt, but not nearly as much as the lactation consultant I hired when Clover was a newborn, the lady who manually unclogged and expressed my breasts. In our living room. With the drapes open. It also wasn't as awkward as the time with the lactation consultant.

But when I really wanted to take a picture was when I stepped into the bathroom before leaving. It was a tiny room with one door, yet someone felt the need to put an "exit" sign on the back of the door, just in case someone got confused and tried to leave through the drain. At a place where Kim sounds like Barbara, you can't take any chances.

The breast drama isn't over because while the radiologist seemed to clear my pictures, he also noticed that I indicated on a form that I had a lump, yet my doctor's nurse didn't mention it in the order and additional pictures were not taken. So...this means I need to get in touch with my doctor's office and ask for an ultrasound, an ultrasound that could have been done in my doctor's office when I went there in the first place. Blurg.