Tippy Toes and Tantrums

Spanking Always Fails

Kevin came across the Fail Blog recently and found this picture of the Spankme Building in San Mateo. Clover's first French teacher had an office there where she held a nighttime Christmas performace. Once at the building, I remember giving Kevin directions from my cell phone, "It's in the (whisper) Spankme Building." Kevin couldn't hear me, so he kept saying, "the what?" Through gritted teeth, I kept saying "the Spankme Building," while trying to keep my voice low. In a way, I made myself look worse, all huddled in a corner, eventually spitting "SPANKME!" into a cell phone. 

The building's right around the corner from the amazing Sibby's cupcakes, and when I drive by twice a year or so, I always cringe.

This is the Way to Go

Soon after we turned the corner, I could hear music. Specifically marching band music, but toned down. This wasn't the Stanford Band. I stepped into the street to look past the parked cars and sure enough, a marching band was coming toward us. "Is this a holiday?" I asked Kevin. As they got closer, we could see it was a full funeral procession, with a nearly life sized picture of the deceased woman atop the lead car, followed by a hearse. The Green Street Mortuary has their own marching band!? (I wonder if they call the funeral packages that include the band something like "The Head of State" service.) It turns out they're quite famous, with a Ferlinghetti poem about them and a feature on NPR. They perform for about 300 funerals a year, so I'd imagine it would get old if you lived along the standard route, but for us, it was an enjoyable surprise. (We stood there to watch the procession out of respect, but with no end in sight after a few cars had passed, we moved on too.)

Scheduled Unscheduled Time

The before photo, in the cotton candy's better days.

I forgot that today was supposed to be the first day of the rest of my life. My "yippee! the kids are both in school" day had been delayed a few weeks because of myriad meetings and other merda filling up my free time. I kept looking toward today as my first free morning, but then I forgot until this morning when after leaving the gym I paused and panicked when I realized I did not have a plan for what to do next. Instead of feeling liberated, I hyperventilated.

That was until I came home to see that my pajamas had been knocked to our closet floor and our dog had made a nest out of them, meaning I needed to do laundry. Once I got to the bottom of the closet, I decided to clean up the bags, totes and purses. My messenger bag had the remnants of our early September sojourn to see the Giants: on the positive side were two crisp $20 bills, but the negative side was the remainder of Clover's cotton candy, which looked small and fossilized. Thankfully it was in a plastic bag because it turned to powdery clumps when touched.

This month I've learned that there is always something to fill the time. A call that needs to be made or an email returned. Maybe I need to realize that taking a whole morning off is not for me. I'm not someone who can sit still unless I feel like I've accomplished a good deal already that day, which I know is not very healthy. Two years back, I talked to a friend about a silent, meditative retreat and said I'd like to try it. He quickly had one of those "BAHHH! HAAAAHAAA!" blurting laughs and said I wouldn't make it an hour. Sadly, I think he's right. Maybe I need to accept that the constant motion is how I operate and learn to relax within that because fighting it only makes it worse.

I've tried to work a few me moments into my day since the school year began. I started downloading a zencast (the Buddhists can't just say podcast, it has to be fancy and zen) done by a local meditation center where I've gone a few times and I find that a good way to wind down at night. The second thing was my summer goal that never got off the ground, which was to work on improving my embroidery skills. Some improvement is better than none, in embroidery and life. I hope. Finding $40 helps too.

Why I am Against Ringling Bros.

The circus is coming to town, but my family will not be there. Last month I was offered a very generous family package for the Ringling Bros. circus by a mom website and while the offer was spectacular and one that my kids would love, I had to decline. Morally and ethically I am appalled by the treatment of circus animals and participation in the event would make me in a way complicit to this. Abusing animals is no way to have a fun family outing.

I politely declined, stating my circus opposition, and hoped that this would not harm my relationship with the mom website. (After all, next up is Disney on Ice.) My plan was to drop the issue without mention. I know other bloggers that are excited about participating in the circus event and that is their decision. I wasn't going to push my position on anyone. My feelings changed this week when a blogger friend spammed me with a circus promotion, offering a discount code for anyone who wanted to attend. Spam is never fun, but it was especially offensive when I had already told this person why I wasn't participating. With that, I felt I needed to explain the other side.

Like most people, I hate to hear about animals being abused. I'm disgusted by the decision to conditionally reinstate Michael Vick to the NFL. Still, I would not characterize myself as much of an animal person and if my dog could speak, she'd back me up on that. I try to stay away from leather, definitely no fur, and I try to limit my meat consumption, which by Marin County (where I grew up) standards, this does not make me an animal rights person at all. Yet, supporting a show that bullwhips elephants, denies animals food, moves animals from town to town in tight containers, forgoes regular veterinary care, and at best asks them to perform unnatural tricks, is not something I can do nor is it something I will condone by attending with my children.

It may be easy to brush the opposition aside by saying this is only Peta, who is known for radical positions, but it is also the Humane Society of the United States, ASPCA, former employees, myriad smaller groups and numerous citations from the federal government.

There are alternatives. Last year a traveling family circus came to our smallish, yet full of great activities, town, which allowed my family to have fun while experiencing a circus. Sure, it lacked elephants and tigers, but it made up for that in so many other ways. The acrobatics were great, the animals it did have were not asked to do anything unnatural, it was humorous and it was cozy, allowing everyone a nearly ringside seat.

I don't fault fellow bloggers for participating in this deal, nor people who buy tickets wanting their kids to experience a longstanding circus-childhood tradition. What I want is for people to be educated about what life is really like for the animals under the big top. It's not all cotton candy.

Weekly Special

Do you ever look at a receipt after returning home from shopping and see an item you cannot remember purchasing? That happened to me yesterday.

We're traditionalists here, the classic style crack is really the best.

A Science Weekend For My Gifted, Scientific Children

It may take me all week to recover from the weekend. It will definitely take me a few days to post the pictures, which are very important because as I said to Kevin, it doesn't matter if we had fun, as long as the pictures are good. (Kidding! Kind of!) The pictures show a smiling Rocket, not the kid repeating "I want to go home!" like a mantra most of the time through two incredibly cool, nerdy events.

Many kids love science and technology, mine included, but this weekend I reached a point where I've had it with moms boasting that their child is into science and technology because, guess what? We live in Silicon Valley! Kids generally love this stuff, but many here also have a parent or parents working in the field, increasing the emphasis on nerdy subjects. So can we all shut up about it already? At one event, a group of moms were told by another mom that "this is so great for my son because he's really into science." Maybe I've become hyper sensitive to this, maybe it's the words that get emphasized in that type of statement, but I've had enough. Normally I'd just think a snarky response, but I may not be able to hold back any longer. What I've learned from listening to other moms is that all kids are gifted and now, all are into science and technology. Listen up: it's not just your kid, so save the boasting for grandma.

My kid, though? He's a regular Einstein.

It was Maker Faire weekend, luckily located at our county fairgrounds. I've successfully avoided the county fair for years and hope to avoid it again this year by telling the kids, "The fair? We just went. Remember? We had corn dogs?" But we didn't have funnel cake, and that may be what actually drags us to the real county fair this year. I know I'm a killjoy, but the regular fair freaks me out with the rickety rides and stoned employees, although the Maker Faire had a little of that, with an Alice in Wonderland element mixed in. This faire, though, was nerd heaven.

I want to write more about it tomorrow, so does anyone have a pen I could borrow?

Missing Our Long, Three Week Winter

Hey guess what? It's March! Even though the calendar says January, it's Spring, which is fun unless you are like me and want to yell, "Global warming! We are doomed!" It could be my congestion that is dampening my mood because early Spring means early allergy season for me. I've been all sniffles and eye itches for the last week until I finally unearthed my allergy prescription which means I am slightly congested and drowsy instead.

The nice weather makes me want to work in the yard, but I remember going to a nursery late last February and a staffer was reminding people that just because we were having a warm wave doesn't mean the plants we wanted were ready to be packed and shipped into the nurseries yet. As a consolidation prize, I told myself I should condition our soil. It's not planting, but it is pre-planting, which will hopefully satisfy my green thumb for now, but if this weather stays, I cannot wait until March to begin planting.

RSVP Does Not Mean "If You Wish"

It's so ingrained in our culture that one doesn't have to understand a lick of French to know what RSVP means. Répondez, s'il vous plaît is a polite request that the invitee let the party host if they will be coming or not. It sounds so simple, but after hosting several kids' birthday parties, it seems that stronger language may be needed because many people view responding as suggestion. More commonly, RSVP seems to be translated as "call if you want, when you have nothing better to do" or "it's cool if you let me know 30 minutes before the party."

Wedding responses were bad - a reply card would come back indicating six people would be attending when only one was invited - but on the bright side, I should be happy they responded. Wedding invitations are generally an easy response as it usually only involves checking a box and sliding the card into a little stamped and addressed envelope. Trying to make it easier for everyone while encouraging more responses, I sent out electronic invitations for my daughter's birthday for the first time recently. What could be easier than an Evite response, I asked myself, it only takes a second to click yes or no. I'll get almost all of the responses, for sure! Sometimes my naivete even surprises me.

There are some people who aren't going to RSVP no matter how easy the process and there are people who may need a subscription to Martha Stewart Living, the ones who just don't think it's important to give an answer. What I love about electronic invites is the ability to see that the invitation has been checked. It's annoying to see someone checking the invitation periodically, but never responding. Or there were the people who kept checking the invite, but gave me their response in person. This kept screwing up my count as I'd look at the list of kids coming, but I'd frequently forget that some of those who hadn't responded, had responded. Then there was a person who said it was never received, even though it had been checked...twice. (And yes, I doubled checked the email, it went to the right address.)

Normally I try to be accommodating, making extra favors and food, but this year my daughter's party was at a pool and due to restrictions on the number of kids per lifeguard, I needed a firm number. Planning a kids party is troubling enough without playing the party police, tracking people down to ask if they are coming. Then there was the flurry of truly last minute calls with questions, especially about siblings. "Did you read the invitation?!" I wanted to shout, "Because everything is explained there!"

Most birthday party-throwing moms complain about weak RSVP numbers, but surely some of these moms must be bad about responding themselves or else this wouldn't be such a common problem. Is it that people only care about the importance of responding when it is their party and then they get RSVP etiquette amnesia immediately afterward?

My daughter's party went off without a hitch, which is what was most important. Until our next party, I pledge to always RSVP in a timely manner, launching my one person campaign to restore the integrity of the polite response request. We can do it!

No Time for Oprah

The day began early with a 9 a.m. soccer game. It was a lot easier to get going early this morning knowing it was the last soccer game of the season...except when we got to the field, we were told there will be a make up game next weekend, dragging the losing season out. I grumbled at the news, but then felt bad about that, worried that I was standing out as the bad sport parent, clearly unsupportive of her child, but then I felt better when all of the other moms reacted the same way upon hearing the news. Clover's birthday party is next Saturday, as is a teammate's birthday party, adding to the unhappiness.

After the game, Clover and I headed north to a family baby shower. My list of things that absolutely need to get done asap is growing quickly and taking several hours on a Saturday for a shower added to the stress, but it is so comforting to know that your family understands and appreciates you. When I arrived at the party and told my mom that it was difficult for me to get there, she said "What else would you be doing if you didn't come?" My mom seems to have blanked out on what it was like to have little kids, as she always implies that I have excess free time. I don't even have time to watch General Hospital (among all the other soap operas) she watched daily when I was a kid. Maybe I am doing something wrong? But then I don't have the luxury of telling my kids to go outside and play for a few unsupervised hours while I get things done around the house. Motherhood is hard and it can suck and sometimes I just want the amount of work acknowledged by those around me. I don't need a ribbon or a trophy, I only ask that people don't equate stay at home mom with someone lounging on the couch watching Oprah while sipping a tropical drink.

Somehow a picture post turned into a rant.

I Voted! And Now I Rant

So now can all the craziness end? Shouldn't I be issued a protective bubble from which to shield myself from all of the election babble and the awful, divisive things said in desperation? I don't even get an I Voted! sticker; those are only given out to the in-person voters. Rip off!

Voting was more difficult than expected, partially because I was extremely nervous I would accidentally mark my vote for the wrong person, like something would take possession of my body or I'd lose control of my pen and vote for Alan Keyes. I quickly knocked off the easy propositions and boards. I'm fickle and did not vote for the school district guy who is the incumbent, yet did not put a statement into the voter's guide. Maybe he was driving to the county office to turn in his statement, but was in a horrible accident? Maybe he was visiting his wife at the hospital? In my mind, no statement either means: he doesn't care enough to turn it in; he's smug; or he cannot work a computer. His opponent wrote a rambling, somewhat nonsensical statement, but she got my vote anyway. So there. Also there is a guy running for the hospital district board who used his nickname "Nappy" in the voter guide. I doubt he's been charged with elitism.

I feel strongly about only a few propositions, the others took some reading and research. I copied all of my votes into the sample ballot for my husband to later review, which sounds very 1950s, but it's because when he goes to vote, he'll ask me about each person and measure. Last time he voted impulsively on his own, only to have regrets once he learned he'd misinterpreted several ballot measures. I wish he'd hand his ballot over for me to fill out, skipping our usual voting dance. When my grandparents were alive, we'd sit at their kitchen table and they'd tell me the one or two candidates they cared about, allowing me to fill out the rest with my preferences. If only the undecided voters of Nevada and Indiana would say that to me this year.

For what it's worth (which is very little, even less if you live outside of California), I voted yes on Prop. 2 (I mean, come on, should it take a statewide vote to allow farm animals to fully extend their limbs or wings once a day? Sadly it does.), and no on Props. 4 and 8.

I learned that I misunderstood parental notification at a Prop. 4 talk about two weeks ago. I was against the proposition before, fully understanding that while I hope and expect Clover would come to me if she found herself pregnant before she wanted to be, there are many girls who don't live in a supportive environment. I remember an article I read a few years ago written by a doctor offering a glimpse into her residency that featured a young teen girl impregnated by her father. The girl was begging for an abortion, saying she'd been raped by her father for years, but her mother refused to allow the abortion, saying she'd raise the child instead. The parties agreed that the mother knew of the molestation, but did nothing to stop it. Thinking about this situation makes me sick, even more so when I think that it's not an anomaly.

Before the talk, I thought parental notification was akin to getting out of gym class: a forged note not closely examined would do the trick. I was so naive. For someone under 18 to have an abortion, two letters (one sent certified mail, the other first class) go to the girl's parents or guardian notifying them that their daughter has sought an abortion, giving the parents/guardian at least 48 hours notice. It does not matter if the teen is accompanied by a family member, for instance her grandmother, which, according to Planned Parenthood, is common. For the pregnant teen to obtain a waiver, she must fill out a state form claiming her parents have abused her and/or go to juvenile court. She must incriminate her parents to obtain a waiver. Maybe her parents did nothing wrong other than having high expectations. They may not have sexually abused her, but they may expect that she excel in school and go off to a top university. Becoming pregnant wouldn't merely be a set back, but a crushing change to family relations.

A representative from Planned Parenthood told us about her job in the conservative Central Valley and about a test where she took a teenage Latina to try to get Plan B (which is NOT RU 486, as much as the anti-choice people try to link them. Plan B suppresses ovulation, just like the pill.). It took going to several pharmacies in different towns (including the small farming town where my cousins live) through the course of a day in order to get it, despite having a valid prescription and a knowledge of her rights. It wasn't that the pharmacy did not have the medicine, it's that they were unwilling to dispense it to her. Not many teens have the time and resources to get around to that many pharmacies in order to get a pill that is needed in a very timely fashion to prevent a pregnancy - and also prevent an abortion. Normally I am pretty smug about living in forward-thinking California, but then I hear stories that make me think this is another state or country all together.

One last thing the representative said that was really helpful to me as a parent of young children was a reminder not to flip out over the small things. She said if parents yell and get upset about little things like spilled juice, that child is not going to want to go to the parent when something big and bad goes wrong for fear of the response. I'll admit that I tend to flip out over small stuff - being late for school, playing with water when the kids are supposed to be brushing their teeth, crayons on the wall...I could go on forever - so I took her advice and said to Clover, "If there is anything you ever need to tell me, but are afraid to, just say 'mommy, I have something to tell you and I don't want you to get upset,' and I promise to listen and not yell and I'll try my best not to be upset." Clover looked at me like I was crazy. Later that night she came into my room and said "mommy, I have something to tell you and I don't want you to get upset." I sat down, bracing myself for horrible news. "Okay." She held out a stick of overlapping Legos and said "I made a Lego cigar!" My shoulders dropped with relief. But then, she's five, the bigger tests are yet to come.