Tippy Toes and Tantrums

Easy Decoupage (Really, Really Easy)

When tasked with the job of making presentable our class donation to the school auction, I didn't know what to do. Because the parents of Clover's class are donating fancy camping gadgets, I want to put everything into a big plastic tub that most people use to hold camping supplies, but putting a giant tub on a table isn't visually appealing. I headed out to the store hoping to find large stencils with an outdoors theme that I could use to paint the tubs with a plastic-adhering spray. I struck out at Michaels, but while there I decided to try decoupage.

I bought a small crate, Mod Podge and some foam brushes. I already had some lovely Amy Butler paper at home and using it for the class project helped me justify my impulsive paper purchase. 

I dusted off the crate and cut the paper to size. I put a generous coat of Mod Podge on the crate, then put the paper in place. The next step - Mod Podging the top of the paper - made me nervous and overprotective of the paper.

I did it and it was fine. Once it dried, it was better than fine. I put three thin coats on top of the paper, letting it dry 15 minutes between coats, and once the final coat had dried, voilà:

If I wanted to keep this project long term, I would have applied two or three more coats and maybe an acrylic sealer on top. The paper is solidly adhered to the crate. I tried to peel it back as a test and it stayed firmly attached. To be honest, my goal was to make something that looked good on auction night and held up...long enough.

I still plan on getting a plastic tub and possibly spray painting it if I can find stencils, but at least the pretty crate will be in front holding some of the smaller items.

It was so easy and really satisfying. Now I'm looking around for excuses to decoupage more.

My Dependent Dependent

For the past week, I've tried repeatedly to write a simple post about the weather. I was only shooting for a photo and two lines, but even that was impossible. Mostly because there were other things I needed to do that were more important, but even those things took longer than they should because I get interrupted every two seconds. Rocket can be a needy kid. Actually, his need is focused and simple: he needs to talk, a lot and all the time. I've worked with him on "wait a minute," or "just let me finish this," but many times he gets upset. He's three and going through a little bit of dysfluency, so I cannot bring myself to cut him off when he interrupts me because I want him to get his thought out. Getting shushed by me only adds to his frustration with the dysfluency, so I sit and wait more patiently than I could ever imagine. But on the inside, I'm freaking out, thinking about all of the things I need to do and how these constant interruptions make things worse.

Clover is different and she has been since birth. She's fiercely independent and while he's independent too - never fearful of new places or faces - he needs to connect so much more than she does. She loves the silence. She reads and writes on her own for hours. I can forget that she's here. Before Rocket was born, I was on bedrest twice - one with my third pregnancy and second miscarriage and again when pregnant with Rocket. Never could I have made it through the bedrest if Rocket had been my first child. Clover gave me space, she could get things for herself and I could trust her not to go outside or do anything crazy, which is great because I slept all the time. I remember reading a story to her one afternoon when she said, "Are you doing to fall asleep?" I couldn't even get a full "yes" out before my head hit the back of the chair and I was sound asleep. She just got up and went to her work table to color, occupying herself until the story resumed 20 minutes later when I woke up. Rocket would have hit me in the head with his sippy cup until I woke up, then demanded more to drink. Or he would have yelled, "MOM! I am TALKING TO YOU!" I hear that several times a day. He even woke me up with that rebuke the other day.

There is a part of me that is afraid to discourage his talking. I know in a few short years, I will naturally be a smaller part of his social world and he'll be quiet and distant while I beg to hear any detail of his school day. I am already third on his list of favorite people to talk to. Clover is No. 1. If she's here, he cannot be without her. If she sits in her room reading, he makes monkey faces from her doorway, desperate to steal her attention away from the book. Kevin in No. 2, but he tells Rocket to move along with ease. He doesn't share my fear of one day being cut out of Rocket's conversations.

It will be better next year, I tell myself, when he's in school every day. But that's just the magical thinking of parenthood, the next step will be easier, when the next step brings its own set of issues with it.

40 x 40

Today I'm one year and one month away from the big 4-0. When I told Kevin I was going to put together a list of 40 things I wanted to do before I turned 40, he looked a little panicked. "You're almost at the point where you have to do one a week," he noted. When I told him that I wasn't going to freak out over this list, that it's merely a set of goals, and if I don't achieve them all, that's fine. He laughed and said he expects to find me one year from now in a frenzy trying to cross everything off my list. He's right, I'm not the let go type. Maybe I should have added that to the list. To bad, I've already got 40.

By next March, I want to:

complete a crochet project
complete the Couch to 5K program*
organize idea binders
learn to snake the main line**
get current with my New Yorker subscription***
end the magazine back log
take Rocket to Disneyland for the first time
take the kids to NYC
BlogHer10!
do something with my arms

successful veggie garden (aka beat the deer)
alter and hang Rocket's drapes
learn to hem pants, rather get the courage to touch Kevin's hems
take my vitamins
take the kids to a candy store and let them buy whatever they want (within a tiny budget)
finish Brideshead Revisited
go on an adventure
tone down my yelling
eat at Foreign Cinema
go away with Kevin

take the kids to at least one Giants game this year
margaritas on the front deck
finish advent stockings
take Rocket to a Stanford football game
update my blog design
get the journals for the kids up to date
get annual photo albums for the kids relatively up to date
take the kids to a movie they want to see, but I don't
figure out my new camera
teach the kids to ride a bike

get off Diet Coke
get air conditioning
clear out the pre-marriage boxes in our garage
listen to the Spanish language CD with the kids
go to Glass Beach
figure out Photoshop
knit a chunky scarf
find a plant/do something with living room corner
fill living room frames
take the kids to the Marin sites of my childhood

Bonus: get a fake ID that (once again) says I'm 21.

*Instead of "complete," I want to write "start" or "attempt," which would be more accurate, but seems like a total cop out.
**This is not sexual or as interesting as it sounds.

**First I wrote, "Get current with the New Yorkers," but that sounds like I'm going to be doing a door to door census around Manhattan when really I'm going to be sitting on my ass in California reading outdated magazines.

Kevin will take bets with anyone who thinks I'm going to end my 30s with calm acceptance and patience. He's been with me far too long to know that deadlines are dead serious, for me.

My Boundaries are Easily Tested

When the Mominatrix book arrived, I immediately hid it in my closet. It's just a book and not even a graphic book, but my Catholic-quasi-Puritan upbringing kicked in and I freaked out. We had someone coming over that day and while I doubt this person was going to demand to check out every corner of our house, I still wasn't ready to display this book. It reminded me of a family house warming where we were all surprised by the sex books on open display. Maybe it was the astonishing number of sex books that surprised us. It was a childless house, but I still couldn't imagine wanting to share that information about myself with everyone I knew.

This book was brought out of hiding the next day and placed on my nightstand where it's remained, even though I've finished reading it. The book is better suited toward new or pregnant moms because for me, almost four years postpartum, the post-baby stuff has all been long ago worked out. However, the last few chapters of the book include mom-friendly suggestions to spice up anyone's sex life. It's gentle enough for those quick to blush, like me. As I reported to Kevin about what I read, he told me he was all in favor of any "research" I was doing. I imagined myself writing, presenting and defending a dissertation on the subject, but I don't think that was exactly what he meant.

Now to find a spot for the book.

Disclaimer: I was sent a free copy of The Mominatrix Guide To Sex by Kristen Chase as part of the Silicon Valley Moms Book Club.

A Family Dinner, For Couples

Valentine's Day breakfast, without the kids

When I read expert recommendations that families eat together at least once a week, I'm always left wondering how people normally eat dinner. I grew up eating dinner together daily as a family and it was everything the experts claim. We shared, caught up, complained about the food. That's continued on with my family. Dinner is ready soon after Kevin gets home and we all sit down and talk. Because having a three year old boy at the table is a lot like inviting a monkey for tea, the word poop is usually dropped to my displeasure and at least one kid will horse around to get a laugh from the other kid. It gets annoying, fast. The kids will ask to be excused, then clear their plates and go play in the family room.

Initially I was concerned that the family part of our dinner was brief and hurried, but then I realized that their departure left me and Kevin alone at the table. This is so much better than the full family part of the meal. It's definitely not equivalent to dinner out without the kids, but it is a nice time to share, catch up and complain about the kids' food objections. And if parenting about modeling proper behavior, I think this works. It isn't the "children should be seen and not heard" method to which my grandfather subscribed, but we give the kids a chance to talk with us, then we have time to talk without them participating. They watch us as they play and on some level it's registering that our life is about more than just them. I love this little island of together time in the sea of chaotic family life.

More posts about setting a relationship example can be found on the Yahoo! Mother Board.

iPhone Photo Diary

Every time I connect my iPhone to my computer, I'm always surprised by the photos. Maybe early onset Alzheimer's is beginning because the photos on my phone always give me an "Oh yeah, that happened" feeling. This was last week, according to my iPhone:

I learned how to use a Gocco! Now to spend the rest of my free time scouring eBay for something I don't really need, but desperately want. (Last week's obsession was a beach cruiser.)

The other night when Kevin came home from picking up dinner, he said, "ZOMG! [ed. note: He didn't say ZOMG! but he should have, to spice up the story and all.] I went into that bookstore next to the Chinese food place!"

Me: The Christian bookstore? [internal thought: oh my god, he's found Jesus at age 40.]

Him: Yes! [ed. note: another ZOMG! would have been helpful here.] You know how the back doors are right next to each other? And look the same? [ed. note: no, they look nothing alike other than they are doors.] I walked in and IT WAS AN ASIAN LADY who said, "May I help you?" and that's when I realized I was at the wrong place!

Me: So the appearance of an Asian woman confused you more, but then when she was helpful, you realized this was not the Chinese food place?

Him: Basically. [Actually, I don't remember what he said, but it was basically, basically.]

A week later when I went to pick up more Chinese food without a side of Christian books, I looked at both doors. They look nothing alike. 

Brownies with a Heath bar center for Superbowl dessert. And yes, that is an officially licensed NFL napkin. Too legit to quit. Or as the officially licensed dessert plates said, "Own the Moment." I don't think I could have taken on that brownie without the NFL's encouragement.

The Amazing Ovo

I've wanted to take Clover to a Cirque du Soleil show forever, so it killed me not to take her to see Ovo last week when the Silicon Valley Moms bloggers were given tickets to opening night in San Jose. The show began at her bedtime (8 p.m.) and ran two and a half hours, which would have been pushing it - a lot. I could have kept her up that night, but I would have paid for it later. It was a school night and I knew that getting home at 11:30 p.m. would mean two days of a really bad attitude, so I decided to keep her home. Kevin jumped in as my date and despite the pouring rain and extra traffic, we had a great time.

The show is amazing. Ovo is the third Cirque show I've seen and I thought it was the best. The way the performers defy gravity and seem to have absolute control over their bodies is unbelievable. In a way the special effects of movies ruins real life because it almost seems natural or at least unsurprising, to see people leap up onto a giant wall, appearing to run up the wall on air. But when reminded that these people are doing this without any computer-assistance or the use of strings and pulleys, it is absolutely amazing.

As always, the costumes and set were beautiful. If anything, with a bug and nature-based theme, the design seemed a little more literal than the usual surreal Cirque sets. Most of all, I loved that the fabulous ladybug was not a size two.

Although loud at times, the show is definitely kid-appropriate. This has us looking at the calendar, trying to find a way to get Clover to see Ovo before it leaves because I have no doubt she'd love it.

Disclaimer: I was given two free tickets from Cirque du Soleil.

Not on the Christmas List

I just came across this thank you note reject that I'd shoved into my craft closet. There comes a point when writing thank you notes when Clover starts burning through them. She scribbles, her handwriting is barely legible and her print is equivalent to 24 pt Helvetica Bold. This card was from one of those times:

Art set. Art seT!

Only Tuesday?

This has been a week, the kind of week the doesn't end until sometime in March.

The kind of week where you gain 2.1 pounds despite exercising almost every day.

The kind of week where your child writes "BIG BOOTY!" on a thank you note for a relative, then crosses it out, all despite not knowing what that means and unlike with profanity, you have no idea where this was learned.

It's a week where you want to ask your Facebook friends for references on who it was who told them they looked like a specific celebrity. There is an exception or two, but everyone put a picture of someone much better looking for Doppelganger week. Had I participated, I would have been honest and picked Natalie from The Facts of Life.

As a rule, I try not to participate in the Facebook stuff because it's not my thing. Although I did find interesting the trend of looking up one's name in urbandictionary.com and reprinting the first definition on Facebook. Curious, I looked mine up and here is not the first definition, but the eleventh, which is my favorite:

Kimberly: A fancy German-word for 'weed'. Very international for it is commonly used in downtown Maryland or Indonesia.

It's not commonly used in its country of origin, but it is "very international" because it's used in Indonesia and downtown Maryland? Where is downtown Maryland?

The plus side of this week is that Clover finally began piano lessons. She already knows how to swim and soon I can cross reading music off the list. Once she has braces, I think my job as parent is done. She's ready for the world! Almost.