Musings of a Working Twin Mom

Public Policy from the 8-Year-Old

2011-09-05T21:30:00.000-07:00

Recent conversation among DG, T1, and me in the car:

T1: I don't want to hear the news anymore. It's upsetting to me.

Me: What?

This is my first indication that he is even listening to what is on the radio, although I don't know why this is a surprise to me as he can cite the last 7 songs on Radio Disney at any given time. We had just heard a story from the BBC that said parents could be cited with neglect for allowing their children to become obese. It mentioned "adoption," indicating that children could be taken from their parents.

Me: Are you upset about that story?

T1: Yes, I would not want to be taken away from my parents. And I worry that Super PACs will ruin the world as we know it .....

What? DG's words, I think, coming right out of his mouth. He has no idea what a Super PAC even is.

DG: You know, L. one of the most wonderful things about this country is that you can feel however you want about the government and say whatever you want.

T1: I won't get in trouble?

DG: No, it's how things get changed in society. People who feel strongly about something they don't like in their community, tell the person who represents them in the government. It works in your school with the Student Council.

T1: I want to do that; I want to change things.

Me: Know what the best thing is to do? If you want to make public policy when you're an adult? You have to pay attention in school and do your homework.

T1: Oh. But I only get a half an hour for my homework.

Me: It's about thinking. The deeper you think, the easier it is to decide what your answer will be. It's simpler really.

T1: Ok. Can we play Wii when we get home?

And with that, it was over, but are the makings of a little politician brewing? Is he going to continue to his quest to stand up for what he believes in? I sure hope so. I LOVED this exchange. Just hearing something else coming out of the 8-year-old boy's mouth besides whatever's related to a video game was heartening. But what's more inspiring is that his confidence is building. He's thinking of running for 3rd grade rep for his class in the school student government system. I'm thinking he's got the first glimpses of how his education affects the rest of his life (okay, maybe that's a stretch...)

I just hope he can remember this when homework time comes....

My Conscience and How the Death of an 11-month-old Jarred it Awake

2011-08-30T05:21:00.000-07:00

There's this section of freeway near my house called the Arroyo Seco Parkway that twists and stretches for only a few miles from downtown LA to Pasadena. It's, I think, the first freeway built in Los Angeles, and was probably meant for driving Model A's at about 25 miles an hour. Today, it's heavily traveled at average speeds of 60 to 70 miles an hour. Problem is, there is no shoulder and you have to slow down to about 20 for the exits. Even the on-ramps are so short, that drivers have to come to a complete stop before accelerating to join the sea of traffic. This freeway is also dangerous. Like I said, it's twisty. A stalled car can cause a massive pile-up. I am hyper vigilant every time I drive on it. (DG drives it every day. *nervous*).

Last week, there was a tragic accident on this freeway. A stalled car was rear-ended by an SUV and burst into flames. The driver got out, but couldn't get out her 11-month-old baby. She tried. Good Samaritans from the nearby neighborhood tried, but no one could save the baby.

This tragedy is still affecting me so much. I'm deeply saddened for that poor mother who could not get the child from the car seat. I'm angry at the lack of consciousness of droning drivers in LA who are either distracted or zoned out to actually take driving as the serious job that it is. But mostly, I'm disturbed by the accounts that several cars slowly moved beyond the accident on their way to their next thing. People were on phones (no doubt reporting the accident 9 million times), but motorists didn't stop. And the reason this bothers me so much is because I wonder what I would have done had I come upon this scene. Would I have driven by rationalizing that others were handling the situation, or would I have stopped and helped in whatever way I could, even if it was just to support the brave souls who burned themselves trying to get the baby out?

I'm convinced, for whatever it's worth, that I probably would have driven past, praying that someone would save the day and everything would turn out alright. I know myself, and I think that getting involved would have meant perhaps jeopardizing my own children's safety (there's no shoulder!) or maybe mine. But I find myself disturbed at this reaction. I wasn't there. This was not a situation that I would have even had to make a decision about, but I'm finding myself disappointed in myself for not acting in the scenario in my head where I drive by this accident.

Life is so fragile. We never know what's around the corner that could lift us up to unbelievable heights of success or drop us to the pit of tragedy. My moral compass feels very selfish at this thought. I worry that, for myself, I've forgotten what community is and how we're supposed to work together to the end of peaceful, joyful existence for all, and when difficulties strike, we're supposed to walk each other through it, selflessly. I need to remind myself that I'm part of a larger fabric, and that giving of myself, in whatever way I can, is the right thing to do.

No one could have saved that poor baby. It was an accident, and if you believe in fate or God or whatever universal force decides these things, you can go on about your day with the thought that that baby's death was a catalyst for something else: a re-vision of that freeway with safety updates, infant and toddler car seats with remote control ejector buttons for the straps (I don't know), or a change in me, a decision to act more globally for the good of everyone. One step at a time, I guess.

Quitting?

2011-08-13T22:52:00.000-07:00

I feel like a quitter. I've been reading blogs for months and months, but I can't bring myself to write a thing. I'm struggling again with the work/home balance, and blogging is pretty far down the priority ladder. What's difficult about this is that if I took the time, I might be rewarded by the wonderful personal satisfaction I get by doing something for myself alone, but there seems to be very little room for me and my interests. So I pine away for time to percolate ideas, to share about how T1 and T2 are growing into these amazing young people, and to create an identity for myself beyond the traditional roles I find myself entrenched in, something that's creative and not connected to somebody else. But the pressure to actually write it is insurmountable. If I put blogging higher up on the priority ladder, something else would have to give. Instead, I just don't do it.

So, I'm thinking about quitting. The blogging, I mean. Seriously, it's been months since I've written anything anyway. I have tons to say, but I have nothing to say. I'm torn. What should I do?

Challenge--or the Perfectionist's Math Test

2011-03-29T19:01:00.000-07:00

Today's word is Challenge.

Just as a follow up to my last post, I did have the surgery to remove the skin cancer today, and so far, I feel pretty good. I suspect there will be some pain tomorrow, but the doctor assures me that this will probably be the end of the skin cancer. Now I just have to be hyper-vigilant in making sure I don't get any more. There's a challenge, no?

So on to today's challenge....T2 is a bright second grader whose teacher talks about her glowingly at our conferences. "She's always working hard and trying to learn as much as she can." She loves school and is completely challenged by every single opportunity, however mundane it may seem. She finds a challenge in every boring homework worksheet and creates curriculum for fantasy classes that she teaches to her stuffed animals, always simultaneously reinforcing her own learning.

Today, she came home crestfallen with a timed math paper on which she received a 2 out of 15. Apparently, she "got stuck" on a problem, she says, and did not finish the test. T1, of course, was announcing this all over the house, soliciting glances of ire from T2's eyes. If she could have "Superman-heat-vision-ed" him, she would have. The problem she got stuck on was this word problem:

"Mrs. Tan has 23 stickers. She will give 5 children an equal numbers of stickers. How many stickers will each child get? 5? 4? 3? or 6?"

T2 took the problem to mean that there was an even number of stickers overall, not just an even number to each child. On her paper, she grouped the stickers into 5s and couldn't for the life of her figure out what to do with the other 3 stickers. She never moved on. In her note, the teacher said, "remember--don't spend all of your time on one problem--move on!"

Here is the challenge. Clearly T2 is a perfectionist. In this age of high achieving children in a "Race to Nowhere," T2 is starting from a very young age to see herself as exceptional. She is perpetually the highest scorer in the class. When frustrations like this trip her up, she is working with what psychologist Carol Dweck calls in her book "Mindset," a "fixed mindset" that if she can't figure out what frustrates her, she is no longer smart. How can I let my highly self-critical daughter know that mistakes are part of the learning process? And that messing up this timed math test is exactly what she needed to do in this moment to learn how to be a test taker? And how can I assure her that tests are not a measure of her intelligence or ability to solve the problems?

What DG and I did do was reflect back her feelings of disappointment in her paper. Not a judgment of her work, but rather a comforting, "Yeah, that probably felt extremely frustrating when you couldn't get that answer" kind of way. Then DG asked her the rest of the questions on the test, to show her that she did know the material. He explained "remainder," so that she would have a logical explanation for why there were extra in the problem. Her self deprecation was assuaged for the time being.

But what about the next time? I praised her effort, not her intelligence, like Dweck says, and crossed my fingers that this will be what she takes with her to the next test.

Biopsy

2011-03-23T23:32:00.000-07:00

Today's word is: Biopsy

As in, the kind your doctor takes when she suspects you may have cancer. CANCER. And cancer definitely sucks. I say f*you to cancer on a regular basis when anyone I know or a loved one of someone I know has to deal with its insidious nature in their life.

My step father died of cancer when he was in his early 60s. That was 25 years ago. Every single time I hear of someone dying of cancer, or dealing with someone being treated for cancer, I feel that pain of losing my parent all over again. It never becomes something that I hear and just go, "Oh yeah. It's cancer, but it's that totally treatable kind like non-Hodgkins lymphoma, prostate cancer, early-detected breast cancer, basal cell melanoma skin cancer." I have a fear that no matter how treatable it is, once you have it, you always have it. They say you're in remission but not always cured (although I think that sometimes people are cured of cancer). Once you have it, you have to resign your life to whatever it takes to manage it.

This is what I now have to do as the biopsy did come back as skin cancer. Yes, thankfully, it is the totally treatable basal cell melanoma. I'll be having surgery next Tuesday to remove all of it. They assure me that this will take care of it. No more melanoma after surgery, but I will need to see the plastic surgeon since it's on my shoulder in a conspicuous place. And I trust that I'm in good hands, and the my extremely reputable, highfalutin Santa Monica plastic surgeon will have me walking out of that doctor's office lookin' better than when I went in.

It's scary to think that this could have been much worse. The only reason I went to have the mole checked out is because I had some cancer insurance that was going to expire. If I didn't have this, I would have waited. Waiting is the worst thing you can do when there's a potential for cancer. But waiting is my first instinct because I come at the end of a long list of people and things that need taking care of.

There's my family--my children, my husband, the cats, the fish

There's my job--colleagues and students who are depending on me

The household obligations--those groceries are going to buy themselves, you know.

So taking care of myself is increasingly harder and harder to do. But after the surgery, I must come first. As cliche as it sounds, if I'm not healthy, I won't be here for my children. So pictures you see of me this summer will be of the woman with the long sleeved tunic, sitting in the shade, protecting herself so she can beat the bastard cancer.

Home is Where You Let Your Guard Down

2011-03-20T20:32:00.000-07:00

Today's word is: Appreciation.

I have a tremendous appreciation for my life these days. I have a job that I love that allows me unbelievable flexibility and rewarding work. I have children who, most of the time, are cooperative and fun to be around. And I have a husband who loves me unconditionally, picks up where I am lacking, and shares my desire to jam pack our life with experiences, for better or worse, everyday.

So imagine my giddiness this morning as I looked forward to his coming home after a 5-day business trip. Lots of husbands leave for long periods of time, their wives experiencing single parenthood first hand, but this was the first time DG has gone away for more than a night or two.

I was as organized as the highest paid office manager in a Fortune500 company. I made lunches, got kids to school, went to work, remembered to put gas in the car.... I knew exactly who needed to be where and how long it would take to negotiate that fine dance of organization that makes a family with multiple children run smoothly. I had it down. Never once during the 5 days did I forget anything, overlook a task, or lose my patience with a child.

DG has been home since about 3 pm. Since then, I've found myself neglecting to turn off a stove burner, glued to the couch, light headed with exhaustion, and unwilling to do any of the things that made the days go so smoothly while he was gone. Maybe I'm finally letting my guard down. Maybe I was afraid to stop the intensity of extreme home/life management because to do so would mean, I'd lose my focus and spin out of control. Or maybe DG grounds me so imperceptibly that just his presence alleviates the pressure of having to do it all, because I know now I don't have to. Reinforcements are here, and they're welcomed with open arms.

Welcome home, DG. We missed you.

Tasty Morsels

2011-03-19T20:46:00.000-07:00

Tonight I went to a belated St. Patrick's day party where kids could jump in the Inflated Bounce House, and parents could sit in the late afternoon sun and sip Guinness--if you're into such a thing--the sipping Guinness, I mean. The talking parents is always good.

No, I sipped no Guinness; instead I had a couple of these:


photo courtesy of cocoa-heaven.com

Trader Joe's Chocolate-Covered Peanut Butter Pretzels. Mmm, mmm, mmm. Crunchy, peanutty, and just the right amount of chocolate. There's a review of them at Cocoa Heaven. Tasty.

If you ever find yourself in Trader Joe's, be sure to pick up a bag. But seriously, take it to a party, 'cause it would be a no-brainer to eat the whole bag.

Hope your weekend is "tasty."

Community

2011-03-18T20:04:00.000-07:00

Today's word is: Community

I live in a small town, and since my kids have been attending the elementary school, I am starting to create a community of moms whose kids all go to the school, and whom I am happy to call my friends. This is a feat that is not very easy to accomplish. I find as I get older, it is harder and harder to make friends. I just don't have a lot of time to invest in getting to know someone. I know that sounds so selfish and weird, but it's just logistics. I mean, I have a hard time scheduling a date night with my husband, and I live with him!

Anyway, today was one of the those wonderful community days when all the neighborhood moms I like we just put into my path. First I took my friend's son to his preschool. She's torn her Achille's tendon and is in a cast, unable to drive, for 3 months. She was in the car while I delivered her son to the preschool, where I have never been, and I ran into two other moms. We all decided to go for coffee. We talked about our kids lying (that's a post for another day, but a doozy it is for sure), and they we were on to the next thing. We went shopping at Nordstrom Rack (super bargains), and then, we picked up the children and went to the park.

We spent 4 1/2 hours in the park this afternoon. Our kids ran into friends from school again and again as the afternoon wore on. I sat on our blanket, knitting, and got to visit with one friend after another. The sun was warming my face and the filtered light through the spring foliage dancing on my blanket had such a familiar spring-like quality that reminds me of how wonderful it is to be outside, communing.

Having people who make your life special is a wonderful gift. And as I take the time to have days like this, the more I will be able to bring in people to make the perfect community. And for that I am wonderfully grateful.

Bad Imagination

2011-03-17T18:50:00.001-07:00

There's this new 21st Century animal called a "procrastaoverwhelmanine." The female of the species is the dominant gender, practicing the fine art of waiting and putting off tasks until ultimately reaching a critical turning point of stress that manifests in the female running around making every other member of the tribe responsible for her wrath. Commonly heard among the females is the refrain, "If only they would do what I say and maybe help out around here a little more and maybe READ MY MIND, for God's sake...etc, etc.

The procrastaoverwhelanine is growing. More and more of these creatures are showing up in cities and towns all over the country. Families had best beware...beware.

What do you think today's word should be?

Heaven and Hell -- In A Drink

2011-03-16T21:15:00.000-07:00

I can't decide if today's word should be: Heaven or Hell. You decide.

This is a post I probably shouldn't write. I mean, DG reads this blog, and he HATES the product that is the subject of this post. He hates it almost as much as I love it. I mean I hate it. No, I love it. You see--it's complicated. This product is revered around the world, and loathed by just as many. People either love it or hate it, and if they can't feel all one way about it, they vacillate about it--like me, to the point where it sometimes feels like heaven in a bottle, and others like the hell that it probably is.

I'm talking about Coca-Cola, people. Good old Coke, the real thing. Awesome in its spicy, fizzy, throat-burning way.

I used to drink LOADS of Diet Coke, and I mean loads. I was upwards of 96 ounces a day what with all the Super Big Gulps and drive through Super Sizes. Then I got really sick. Gasritis. The Coke was literally eating away at my stomach lining. Ewwwww. I quit cold turkey. The foggy brain coming off of the stuff was like withdrawal. No, wait--it was withdrawal! I did not touch Diet Coke. I was seriously scared of it. Every once in a while, I'd have a regular Coke, (I know, what's the rationale in that, but that's what I did) and only very rarely.

I switched to the drink that Mother Nature intended us to have. Really, humans don't need any other drink than this:

Water is good for your skin, body, metabolism, and I've heard tell that it can make you June Cleaver when you want to be Mommie Dearest. I love water. There really is nothing better when you finish a marathon or when you're in the desert.

But, water's a little plain. I find myself lately toying around with the Coke Zero. Have you had this? Tastes much more like real Coke, and much less like the chemicals that make up Diet Coke. It's sweet and spicy, just like I love a soft drink.

But it's got me in a Heaven and Hell grip. So, what do you think? One teensy Coke Zero every once in a while? Or cold turkey--No Coke?

What would you choose? Is it Heaven or Hell for you?

Progress

2011-03-15T22:32:00.000-07:00

Today's word is: Progress

I'm currently reading Jane Eyre again. I love the drama of this book and the down-trodden character of Jane. She's so persecuted and abused, and when she finds Mr. Rochester falling in love with her, she's amazed. How could she be blessed with such good fortune? Oh, because it can't really be real. Of course there's the crazy first wife locked in the attic room. Naturally. Her love for Rochester is all for naught as she knows, because of what she believes her lot in life to be, that she's not worthy. Until, of course, the happy ending where true love trumps tragedy.

I imagine the Bronte sisters sitting around a table with candlelight, spinning these love stories while the wind whipped over the foggy moors outside--moors, of course figuring prominently in both Charlotte's Jane Eyre and Emily's Wuthering Heights. The sisters published their novels with male pseudonyms. As women, they were expected to sit at the table after dinner sewing or knitting or some other household past time, not writing and, God forbid, publishing, but they shared their stories, and they wrote.

I'm grateful for the Brontes, the suffragettes, Gloria Steinem, and all the other feminists who've paved the way for my own daughter. For her, growing up in the 21st century, I'm thinking more and more that there is no limit to what she can do, and I am particularly in tune with this as she navigates school.

We had her parent-teacher conference this week. We're told she gets 100% on pretty much every test. She's reading 4 grade levels above her own. The teacher says, "I never worry about her." Learning, at least the public school 2nd grade standards, comes very naturally to her. She'll have to learn, as Carol Dweck says in her book, Mindset, that it's her effort that contributes to her success--not some innate intelligence. Armed with that knowledge, she'll amaze even herself, I presume.

This Christmas, when we went to see Santa, T2 asked him for a secret present. Not wanting her to wake up on Christmas morning and there be no "secret" present because "Santa" didn't let "Mommy and Daddy" know what it was, I confronted her, asking what the secret present was. She said she wanted Santa to give her the ability to fly. She whispered this in his ear, very clandestinely, and stood back waiting for his response.

"What did he tell you?" I asked her.

"He said I need to go to college and study physics, and maybe when I'm older, I'd be able to figure it out," she answered brightly, like this was as natural a thing in the world. Well, I for one think there's a distinct possibility that she might just crack that code.

The progress made by women through the centuries makes this possible for her.

Evening

2011-03-14T22:06:00.000-07:00

Evening is one of those words that is lost in 21st century vernacular. Even 100 years ago, in the early 20th century, evening seemed to be the time when families moved to the parlor and took tea and smoked cigars to exchange news of the day. These days, our kids are so scheduled with activities and homework and their own unique way of making sense of the 21st century (read--electronics), evening is not necessarily leisure time. But sometimes it is.

This evening, as the warm day set into the cool night, I was reminded of how Southern California seasons change. It's almost imperceptible. Usually, around the middle of March, 70s are the norm and gone are those chilly mornings and nights.

Even though I am heralding the coming of spring (not nearly as much as those of my friends who've been shrouded in snow for MONTHS), I still want to savor a crisp, late winter evening. I'm thinking a cup of tea and some warm candlelight are in my future. Here's how we do it.

If you will excuse me, I'm going to retire to the parlor now and converse with my husband. How deliciously novel. Wishing you a very pleasant evening....

Safety or We're Not Ready for the Big One

2011-03-13T17:29:00.001-07:00

Today's word is: Safety.

I have been so humbled by the devastation left by the earthquake in Japan. To think of the amount of time that they had before the tsunami hit, something like a minute and a half, boggles my mind. There was no time. Everything was just gone. Japan has many earthquakes. I've got to imagine that they had disaster training and disaster plans in place, but when the largest earthquake in history hit, all that preparation was probably no match.

It scares me when I think about how, living in Southern California my whole life , I have an awareness of earthquakes, but I am woefully unprepared for dealing with one as a parent. DG and I have canned goods in the garage. We have large bottles of water, but none of this is portable. If a big earthquake hits, we may have to evacuate our home, or worse, try to find each other without the aid of modern technology.

I'm not ready for this.

I'm not ready to assure my children that everything will be okay when I know I'll be terrified myself. I'm scared to think that I'll have to comfort and assure the safety of our children in the most insecure of moments. I think about parents in Japan and I wonder how they're doing it.

At our school's last PTA meeting, the American Red Cross came to talk to us about disaster preparedness. I listened, but I smugly reacted as if I had it all together. Now I know how much I really don't. But like every resourceful mom, I know what I need to do now to get ready. The American Red Cross has a "checklist" that is very helpful to teach people know what to do and to prepare a disaster kit.

If a quake as devestating as that in Japan hits, there may be nothing I can do. But, at least I can start putting together a plan. After that, it's kind of at the hands of fate. I hope I'll have the strength to carry the family through. At least, I can have hope.

Lazy

2011-03-12T20:52:00.000-08:00

Today's word is: Lazy

When Mommy works outside the home, each day is a whirlwind.

Driving to work, driving to school, driving to this thing and that thing.

A Mommy can get tired.
Even rarer is the Saturday when no one needs her services.

But when it comes, the lazy Saturday afternoon is a magical respite.
My favorite "cave:"

My king-sized bed, warm light dappling the floor from the west windows.
A blanket that weighs just right on my tired limbs
A purring kitty at my feet, and
A good book in my hand.

Bliss.

Compensations and Comparisons

2011-03-11T20:36:00.000-08:00

I read many "twin" pregnancy and childhood books when I first found out I was having twins. All the books warned about comparing your twins. Evidently twins are compared to each other more often than other siblings because they are both at the same developmental age.

I think, though, that parents often compare their children even when they're different ages. "Joey isn't talking as early as Sammy did." "Why can't Mary sleep through the night? Suzie did." I mean, obviously, these are exaggerations, but am I wrong? Since my experience is only with twins, I wonder if and how other parents compare their kids. Thoughts?

---------------------------------

Rather than comparisons, lately from teachers, I've been hearing that T1 is compensating for being in a household with T2. Even though T1 and T2 are in separate classes, all the second graders do activities together, so all their teachers know both kids. They've told me that T1 often says he knows how to do something, or knows all about something when he really doesn't. Someone will start to explain something to him, and he'll say, "Yeah, yeah, I've got it. I know that...." They think this is is way of defending himself against T2 who always knows the answer to most things without thinking about it. When she does think carefully, she can decipher some pretty complicated stuff. He's been trying to keep up with her his whole life. The teachers speculate on this, and therefore, judge and/or compare him with T2.

Now this is more significant that ever because 2nd grade conferences are next week. How well a student performs at the end of second grade is a pretty good indicator for what he or she can do in third grade. I wonder, are our conferences going to be good snapshots of how our children are doing, individually, in school, or will there be some comparing or compensating?

Homework is Hell, or is it? How to Accommodate

2011-03-10T22:51:00.000-08:00

Today's word is Accommodate. It's one of those commonly misspelled words that once you learn it (AC*COM*MO*DATE), you never misspell it again.

I recently helped T1 have a better attitude about his homework. For 7 months, he has been doing the same homework assignment every week. Write the spelling words on Monday (5 times each), use each word in a sentence on Wednesday, and do the math and language arts sheets in between. Turn in the homework on Friday. Week after week after week after week. Seven months--no wonder he finally rebelled.

Said rebellion occurred on a week when 25 spelling words came home. Twenty-five words times 5 times each is 125 words. Are you kiddin' me?!? The school district has a policy that students should do 10 minutes of homework per grade level per night, so for second grade, that's 20 minutes. I don't know about you, but I don't think even I could write fast enough to complete 125 words (legibly) in 20 minutes. T1 was crestfallen. Head hanging, lip quivering, he said, "That's going to take me so long, I won't have time to play."

Okay, no ridiculous, busy-work assignment is going to get in the way of my sensitive boy's need to PLAY. He's 8 years old. Eight-year-old boys NEED to play.

My solemn proclamations that he did NOT have to do this assignment were half-heartedly met with a strong desire to not have to do it, grappling with the need to fulfill his teachers' requirements (T1 has two part-time teachers who share the class. I know. Don't even get me started on this one). He was torn. I find it so interesting that here's a boy who doesn't want to do the homework that he feels is useless, but one who also is either afraid of the consequences of not getting it done or compelled to be deemed worthy by doing what he's told.

I told him I'd okay a change with the teacher. I wrote an email stating (not requesting) that we were changing the homework. I referenced the district policy (figured they couldn't really argue with that) and let them know that from now on, T1 would be writing his spelling words only once and the ones he knew on the first day (seriously--words like "do" and "eat) he wouldn't have to write again. Right? If you know how to spell something, you know it; writing it five times will not help you know better something that you already know. I would give him a spelling test every day, and those words that he didn't know, we would study. And by study I mean study effectively looking at phonics and mnemonics to actually LEARN the nuances of the spelling.

Both teachers emailed a highly accommodating response. No problem, they said. You can modify homework in what ever way you think is appropriate to facilitate learning. As long as he knows the concepts, how he gets there is okay by them. Now T1 is challenged by the daily testing. It feels like a game to see how many he can get right without studying them at all (answer is not very many) and how many he can learn as the week goes by (answer is all of them). He's been getting 100% on his spelling tests ever since. I even heard him say to another boy who was lamenting having to write the spelling words 5 times each, "Just do it my way. It's tons more fun, and I learn the words too! Have your mom send an email!"

What this really brings up for me is the whole concept of homework in elementary school at all, but that's a post for another day. Lord knows, as an educator who studies how the brain learns and effective pedagogical practices daily, I have a LOT to say on this topic. Stay tuned for that, but for now, the message is that homework does not need to be the hassle that I hear parents complain about on the park bench or at the dance studio or karate studio. It's a conversation that people are having constantly.

While I'm not saying that teachers don't know what they're doing, and that you can make whatever homework assignment you want for your kids, you don't have to look at it as such a rigid, black and white task. I do believe that teachers have many legitimate reasons why they assign the homework they do, but in my experience, teachers are flexible, and what do they want really most of all? They want their students to succeed--to walk out of their classes having learned something. They're not homework pushers getting off on watching your kid suffer. Talk to them. Work out a solution that works for your family's quality of life and for your child's maximum learning.

The Presence of Children

2011-03-09T22:19:00.000-08:00

I was at a meeting tonight in a school classroom where several vocabulary words were written on the board. I was struck by the word, Presence.

Presence is one of those words that, when altered into its other word forms, has multiple usages and meanings. There's the "presence" in the room. It can be a person, a feeling, or movement. There's the "presence" of attendance, the act of paying attention. And then there's being "present" in the here and now--a sense of all else before or after having no significance compared to this moment.

I was thinking of this tonight as I went in and checked on the children after they were asleep. I want to capture each moment and live it exactly as it's supposed to be. I know for most working moms (hell, for moms in general), the running and scheduling and sheer magic of keeping it all going everyday disallows for finding the beauty in any moment. And for me, this means in all the taking care of my children, I forget to notice them. They will only be 8 years, 3 months, and 18 days old once, and for this one moment, they are perfect.

I'm honing in on their presence.

Crunchity, crunch, crunch

2011-03-08T21:27:00.000-08:00

Today's word is: Crunch

I love the word crunch. It's one of my favorite onomatopoeias. Crunch, crunch, crunch.

It's the sound my neck makes when I twist it just so. Caramel corn crackles and crunches loudly in my ears when I'm at the movies. Packed snow has a very distinctive crunch when it comes in contact with my boots.

Sometimes, though, crunch has a different meaning. It's "crunch" time. Oh, you know, that critical time when you cannot put "it" off any longer--whatever "it" is. And I've only got myself to blame. I get myself into this situation every semester. I delude myself into thinking I have all the time in the world to finish something, but what I'm really doing is procrastinating, thus leading to crunch time.

And it's not just at work with grading papers or planning lessons, but it happens at home with the kids too. Have you ever told your kids, "We're leaving in 5 minutes!" but then you go back and begin that bathroom scrubbing project that you've been putting off? Then all of a sudden, "CRUNCH TIME."

"Let's go, let's go, let's go.....!" you exclaim as if you'd been waiting all along and they were procrastinating. I guess it's a learned behavior.

Or maybe crunch time is when your son comes out wearing the ratty, old underwear that he had when he was 3, that you can't for the life of you figure out why it's still in his drawer. Then you run off to do the laundry.

Or maybe crunch time is the 15 minutes before bedtime that you try to squeeze in piano practice. "If only she'd focus."

For me, I think I'm craving down time so badly that I tend to repress any actual work I have to do. Maybe if I stop thinking about it, it will go away.....

How does crunch time manifest itself in your house?

Growing Up--The Anticipation Version

2011-03-07T21:34:00.000-08:00

Today's word is: Anticipation

I wonder what my kids will be like when they're grown?

My brother has two grown children--a 20-year-old who is a sophomore at the University of Washington, studying English (a girl after my own heart), and an 18-year-old who's kicking ass and taking names in the high school music world playing bass. He's won awards all over the state of Washington and now is looking to pursue his musical aspirations in college. I listen to my brother over the phone, and I can practically see his face beaming as he talks about them. I can feel his proud parent moment, and I wonder if mine will be the same.

I was thinking about this today as I drove home from work during my 30 minute commute. This is prime time, by the way, for feeding all my neuroses regarding how successful I am at raising my children. Will my kids be as humble, as driven, as polite, as accomplished as my niece and nephew? I don't know. My husband and I are much different than my brother and sister-in-law. She stayed home with them growing up. My brother never missed a little league game. They're conservative and not as permissive as DG and I are. They live in the forest in the middle of nowhere, WA while we're in and out of Los Angeles on a regular basis. Is this bad? No. Does our different experience mean that our children won't grow up equally as composed and mature as his? I don't think so. It's just different. But I don't know for sure.

So I practice modeling my brother. I try to offer my children the same kind of life that (forest living and no video games notwithstanding) their cousins have been afforded.

And I wait.

There are two dictionary definitions of anticipation:

1. previous notion; slight previous impression; realization in advance

2. expectation or hope

The latter is the common way I think about the word--I have a hopeful expectation that my children will turn out to be respectful and respected adults, pursuing their passions with a sense of confidence that comes from knowing that their parents support them emotionally forever. The former is harder to pinpoint, but it's there. There's an excitement in the not knowing that stems from the knowing. I have seen these young people, my niece and nephew, whose upbringing I had a small part in by virtue of being related to their parents, and I know based on their histories, that my own children will follow their lead. At least that's the way I'm anticipating it. My children have their cousins to look up to, to aspire to emulate.

And I can't wait.

Inspired by Today's Word: Time -- or lack thereof

2011-03-06T22:05:00.000-08:00

Oh sweet weekend, why do you have to be so fickle?

You tease me on Thursday night with the promise of hours and hours
and hours and hours.

I can sleep in. I can wake up early. We're running, jumping, playing.
I am free, unencumbered by the meetings,
classes and responsibilities of work and family life.

I have all weekend to:

work on kid's science project
fold laundry
grocery shop and cook meals
grade papers

But you're a jezebel, weekend. You promise, but you don't deliver.
Sunday night creeps into sight, a dark cloud of an impending storm blanketing
the earlier sunshiney landscape, with it a chill of inevitable change.

And then....the time is gone. Work week is on the horizon, Monday hammering
on the door.

So, I'm on to you, weekend. You can't pull this over on me again next week.
Next week, I'm gettin' fortified.

Pride

2011-03-05T21:16:00.000-08:00

Today's word is Pride.

Not pride in the, "I'm so awesome," boastful kind of way, but rather, pride as in the "I did something that was overcoming an obstacle and I'm so proud I did it" way.

T2's been dancing the hula with a group for almost a year now. She's a natural. Man, I can't believe how she can move her hips. I am filled with pride every time I watch her dance. When she started, I would sit during the class and bring a book to read while it was going on, but I could never focus on my reading. I found myself mesmerized by the women in the group. The dance looked so fun, and the music was infectious.

In November, I started dancing with my daughter. I asked her first, if she thought it would be fun to have me in the group. That we could do the dances together, practicing in the evenings. She was thrilled by this concept. Better grab onto this now, I thought. She's going to be a teenager soon enough, and she would be mortified if I wanted to dance with her. Now or never. I thought, I've been watching for months; I can do this. No way, y'all. It's way harder than it looks. It took me a while to get the steps. The hands, hips, and feet all do different things. While I'm not very good at it, I have a great time doing it. It makes me feel so alive to move my body like that, a body whose image I've struggled with all my life. I'm not the dancer type, you see. Big and stocky, not long and lean like my daughter. But hula--hula I can do.

And today was the big test of my confidence. I danced with the group today for the first time in front of an audience. Once the music started, I hit my stride. I found myself beaming both inside and out. I was so proud of myself for going for something that I don't look perfect doing, but about which I feel very passionate.

In the first clip, T2's second from the right. In the second clip, I'm the tall, stocky one, next to the man in the back, and T2's the little girl on the right. I'm thinking that this experience, for however long it lasts until one of us loses interest (T2?), is making a life long memory for T2 and I to share.

I am proud.

The Sorrow of Doglessness

2011-03-04T22:51:00.000-08:00

Twelve years ago, I lost my beloved German Shepherd mix, Scruffy, at 16 years old.

I stayed dogless for for a little while. While I missed my sweet baby, I knew that getting another dog would be the cure for what ailed me. I'm a dog person through and through, and I didn't feel right not having a dog.

I started researching breeds and fell in love with the herders. Their quick brains and abilities were so intriguing to me, and I quickly became obsessed with getting one. I started looking at Australian Shepherd rescues and breeders. I knew I'd get an Aussie. I went to the local Humane Society to let them know that I was looking for an Australian Shepherd, and if they were to hear of any coming in, would they call me first. "We have one right now," they said, and before I knew it, I had my Aussie, a beautiful 3-year-old black tri that I named Jack.

We were inseparable. I trained him and took him on long hikes in Griffith Park. He needed extensive training and I was up for the challenge. I took him to a party 10 days after I got him; there I met DG, who was immediately smitten with Jack, I think, much more than he was with me. DG's love for Jack was part of what made me fall in love with him. You know, love me, love my dog.... I knew DG would be a good father.

One day, when I was pregnant, we took Jack for a herding instinct test. Put in a ring with Jack and a dozen sheep, it was truly a marvel to see him move them around, to do what he was bred to do. I got choked up, just like I do now watching T1 master a complicated karate kata, or T2 on stage at any dance performance. Jack was my first baby.

Things were pretty hard for Jack and me when the babies came home. Have you ever seen that scene in "Marley and Me" where Jennifer Aniston, playing a mother with a newborn and a toddler, is home all day and her husband comes home and the dog goes nuts, knocking over the toddler, and she screams, with escalating intensity, "just get rid of the dog, GET RID OF THE DOG!!"? We had a very similar beginning with Jack and the twins.

On the night we brought T2 home from the hospital, Jack jumped in the crib with all four feet, all 60 pounds of him, dangerously close to the 5 pound twin. It was more than I could manage; I was ready to call the Aussie rescue to find him a nice farm to run on forever. DG was not ready to give him up. We sent him doggie boot camp, and he came back a different dog, a dog that could be a part of our family, one that the babies could jump on and try to ride, and who would sleep outside their door while they were napping, and bark at any passing dogs, for fear they would try to get his "babies." I'd strap him to the double stroller and trudge through the neighborhood. One time, a driver stopped me and said, "Wow, if you can get out and walk with all that, what's my excuse?" For me, Jack was the original recipient of my mothering. He needed me just as much as I needed him.

Jack was almost 15 when we had to put him to sleep four weeks ago. The vet said, after Jack had had 6 seizures in 12 hours, that he probably had a brain tumor, and he was fading fast. I wasn't ready, although I knew it was coming. I held him on that table, cradling all the bigness of him, as if he were an infant I was holding in my lap. I thanked him for all he'd given me, how he changed my life.

So today's word is "sorrow."

I have days when I won't remember him, and I think that his memory will fade eventually, and this fills me with sadness. The sorrow that comes from coming home to the house with no dog will probably be with me for a while. Until the sorrow of doglessness passes.

Freedom from Myself

2011-03-03T21:57:00.000-08:00

Today's word is Freedom:

I used to feel I was responsible for my own life.
It's how we're taught from a very young age.
"You're independent; do what you want to do."
If I work hard, I can have anything--do anything.

But what I want is not a solitary wish.
It does not exist in the realm of Me with no one else.
When I strive for a wish, dream, goal,
I must trounce over the others along the way. They're in the way.

But the path of my life does include others.
I have a special one who shares my life and to whom I am
responsible
I can't make some decisions about myself without thinking of the outcome--for him.

I have two little ones whose well beings depend on
choices I make for my life.
They're watching and learning how to be themselves
from my example.

When I'm so much in my head, reeling over how well I solved this problem
or how badly I did on that issue, I'm taking away from the others in my life.
The talk in my head over what I need to do to control the others around me
so that I can be calm, needs to be squelched.

In the context of belonging to others, I have freedom.
I let go of the control over everything, including them, and I can have peace.
Nothing I say or do can make the world exactly the way I want, to suit me.
Freedom from myself means a better me.

Persuasion

2011-03-02T06:04:00.000-08:00

Today's word is "persuasion."

I am often asking my children to change their minds about something, to convince them that their opinions (on say something like...what they want for dinner) are misguided and uninformed. I provide them with evidence to the contrary, proving beyond a doubt, that mother really does know best. Children need to be persuaded to:

-- brush their teeth effectively (or you'll get cavities).

-- clean up their rooms (that's how you earn screen time/allowance).

-- take a sweater (it's not cold now, but it might be later).

It's mother's prerogative to dispense with all kinds of wisdom given her wealth of experience in all things related to childhood. If children could be convinced to listen to mother, all would be right with the world.

--------------------------------------------

I've been thinking lately about the students I have in my classes. I should not have to give them reasons why it's important for them to do the work required for the class. Didn't they sign up for the class? Didn't they invest the fees and purchase the books? And while I muse about why I shouldn't have to do this, the fact remains that I am part cheerleader, convincing my students everyday about the value inherent in working for something. If you do the work, you'll be rewarded with pride in the outcome. If you slack off, your success is directly related to your effort.

I can only make my pitch, and then get out of the way of their actions. They're outcome is not a reflection of my effort; it's theirs. (This rings true for the children, too, by the way.)

---------------------------------------------

Sometimes, although not as much lately, I have to persuade myself to believe in myself. I am extremely self-deprecating. If you're even perused this blog a little bit, you can see that I have doubted myself at every turn. This is the year, however, that I turn that around and start acting with integrity, standing up for what I believe in and not second guessing myself. I'm thinking that I'm going to be hard to convince, but I'm hoping that I can give myself enough examples of how I'm doing the best I can do (see this, and this) and that what other moms, co-workers, friends, acquaintances are doing or feeling about me is none of my business. That ought to do it--my life, my way.

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How do you use persuasion?

In a word...31 days worth

2011-03-01T07:55:00.000-08:00

So the theme at National Blog Posting Month for March is "In a Word." Words are the very essence of what I do--at work, when teaching, while engaging with my children, in communication with anyone. This March, I'm going to explore the presence of these words in my life and post about how they inspire, enrage, comfort, and perplex me.

I'm convinced that I can find a plethora of words to expound upon in the coming days, but I'm not at all under the illusion that I can cover the gamut of the diction related to raising children, working, or balancing a desire for individual fulfillment with the responsibilities of running a household and educating first-time college students. That's why I want to know what words spring to your mind that describe your day-to-day experience.

Is it HAPPY?

CHALLENGING?

BEFUDDLED?

PEACEFUL?

CHAOTIC?

INCORRIGIBLE?

I want to know--what's your word of the day?

Broadening the Focus

2011-02-04T20:48:00.000-08:00

Soccer coach to T1:

"You played really well today; you just need to focus more."

Karate sensei to T1:

"Hey, pay attention! You've got to focus or you'll be doing push ups!"

Cub scout "robotics" club coordinator to T1:

"You're on the right track; you just need to focus."

Me to T1 every night when he goes to bed:

"You really worked hard today at soccer/karate/robotics. You finished more than you thought you would. You learned something new, and you tried more than you did last time. I am proud of you, and you should be proud of yourself."

I'm working on broadening the focus. It's not what he can't do and needs to do better, but what he is doing and progress he's making. It's about all of him. T1 is not defined by how well he can hone in on one thing and make it the center of his attention. He is a many faceted human being whose attention to detail is scientific, whose sense of humor is intoxicating, and whose physical movement is whimsical. I won't let him go to sleep thinking he is incapable of that one thing that appears so important to the grown up world but often eludes him. And while I know he can't always focus, I can help him get there with loving reminders about what he's doing right and how he's moving in the right direction. There's so much more to him, and I intend to make sure he knows it.

Music is Fun--If You Get to Make It

2011-01-22T11:38:00.000-08:00

My sister and brother-in-law are musicians. Between the two of them, they have a dozen albums, play in multiple bands, and run a recording studio. Ever since the twins were toddlers, they've been trying to get them in the studio to record a song. Trouble is, they really didn't want toddlers in there with all that equipment, fragile guitars and lots of other "attractive nuisances" (a real legal term, according to DG).

Now the kids are definitely old enough, at 8, to try music. Last weekend when we were there, this is what they came up with:

I know, the song is arguably little kid like, but come on! They performed all the instruments (except for rhythm guitar and bass, masterfully recorded by Uncle D). It was so fun watching T1 go through the song, concentrating on his bass drum, making sure that he hit it hard enough, but not too hard. His eyes focused on my hand waving down each time he was to hit; he held his mouth in a little, intense smirk, keeping his brain in only one place.

T2 was the consummate lead singer. When we listened to the playback, she kept saying, "I just want to make sure it sounds perfect." They did 2 live takes and a couple of over-dubs to put in the lead guitar, snare drum, and background vocals. What an amazing, creative experience for them.

My brother-in-law is thinking of offering this kind of workshop for kids in the Bay Area. I say, heck yeah. Get those kids in the studio. It's not music class like piano or violin, clarinet or flute, but it's having a vision, creating the components of that vision, and watching it all come together in a finished piece in a few hours. And it's FUN. Kids should be having fun. And they don't have to be perfect at it to create something beautiful and memorable for themselves.

The Supercharged Family Road Trip

2011-01-17T08:32:00.000-08:00

Oh, the family road trip. I remember it oh so ~~fondly~~ wearily from my own childhood. Mom packed weeks of well-thought out games, books, stories and activities so that we wouldn't lose our minds staring out the window at miles and miles of flat land and a few scattered cows. Despite all those little extras, things meant to stimulate and occupy a kid for hours, I hated the road trip. I always got car sick, couldn't really read, was bored out of my mind, and eventually ended up goofing around so wildly with my siblings that Mom and Dad would end up with a one-arm-over-the-seat cry of, "If I have to come back there...."

Well things are different now. Welcome to the 21st Century road trip ala Grateful Twin Mom. Here's how we do it these days. Wired in. That's right; you heard me. Plugged in, dialed in, each with his or her own little screen or headphones. Not talking to each other--not commenting on scenery--not yelling, crying, or complaining. T1 and T2 got iPads (for their birthday/Hanukkah/Christmas for-the-rest-of-their-lives) from an extraordinarily benevolent aunt and uncle. Whole music libraries, math games, Angry Birds (enough said), 5 movies, and 3 chapter books (including A.A. Milne's Winnie the Pooh) provide enough entertainment for weeks, let alone a few hours up I-5 in one super cool laptop device. DG and I listen to audiobooks on iPods and occasionally, DG will blast E Street Radio on the satellite radio (loves him some Bruce Springsteen). But when we're plugged in, it's silent in the car.

Now I know the experts feel that screen time is detrimental for kids (twins are 8 now), especially young ones, and that little brains are marred permanently by too much exposure to video images (whether educational or not). I know that confined spaces are supposed to provide great, built-in opportunities for interacting--commiseration for the shared cramped experience and all, but somehow, this seems better to me. No one asks me, "Are we there yet?" or "Can we stop? I'm thirsty." A well-stocked snack bag, bottles of water, and one or two bathroom breaks and we all arrive at our destination happy, still in love with each other and excited to be where we are instead of weary from the trip.

So I ask you, are a few extra hours of screen time too high a price to pay for such satisfaction on arrival? Will there be increased melt downs because of the change in brain chemistry from too many hours with an electronic device? Are there microwaves and radiation seeping their way into my children's bloodstreams because of extra exposure? I worry about all of this. But part of being a parent is letting go of the fear that makes us second guess EVERYTHING and just being. The supercharged, plugged in road trip is just another way that we are just living.

And while I wonder how all this will affect my children as they grow, I'm guessing when they're grown and look back on the family road trip, they won't be lamenting Mom's angry voice telling them to be quiet and settle down. That's what I'm wishing.

Okay, gotta go charge all my electronic toys. We're on the road in 2 hours....

There's Something About That January Freshness....

2011-01-06T21:44:00.000-08:00

Last January, I sat down with 2 friends, and made a list of goals for 2010. The categories on the form were:

Spiritual Unfoldment

Well Being

Loving Relationships

Abundant Expression (this means $$, I think)

Creative Expression

Other (for me, this is mostly "work", but it's also about integrity)

This list, with ~~insightful~~ hopeful predictions for my behavior throughout the year, did drive the way I lived my life a little. I felt like there was some structure to what I was supposed to be doing, and that I had a reference if I found myself, like I often do in times of extreme overwhelm or self-doubt, unfulfilled, stagnant, or anxious. And while I did not accomplish everything on the list, I did go back and look at this list periodically throughout the year and try to move forward in each of my little goals.

Now, it's a whole fresh, new year. I love the new beginnings of it--my willingness to start over. January seems like the perfect time to do that. My kids went back to school this week, and I don't need to be back on campus to teach until next Monday, so this is my week to do those projections, to finish up those tasks begun last year whose incompletion continually fill me with a pending sense of failure. And, I'm going to think about what I can do differently this year to make my life more balanced and calm.

So, here goes:

Spiritual Unfoldment:
Last year I vowed to be less concerned about what people thought of me and more caring and useful to others is a selfless way, not just to be noticed for my accomplishments. I do tend to have such an ego. I think I want to have the neatest house, the most well-behaved and academically accomplished children, the most romantic relationship, and the most interesting creative endeavors, or at least my mind wants people to think I do. These are really just tricks my mind plays on me to trip me up in a real world. They're not entirely possible or desireable.

Last year's goal was meant to make a dent in that backwards, ingrained thinking. I am turning more to the universe, God, spiritual guiding light, whatever you want to call it, to counter the self-grandiose instincts that my mind still wants to lean toward. This year, I want to continue that same practice. It really does feel good.

Well Being:
Last year's goals in this category were all about eating and exercise. I did get a pretty good handle on the eating last year, and the exercise is going pretty well too. It's just something that I do everyday, not something I need to start again every month, year, Monday. This is a huge relief, by the way. I've struggled with weight and body image for years, and to have it be something that occurs in my life more effortlessly is a huge blessing. I do have to work on everything else in my life that makes me anxious, because if I don't, my tendency is to isolate and shut down, and that means no exercise and excess food--feels yucky, and I will continue to make this a life-long goal.

Loving Relationships:
This is where I need the most work. I have a significant goal for this year in terms of my relationships with each of my children that I wanted to work on last year, but dismally failed. I want to spend planned, individual one-on-one time with each child during which they get my undivided attention. There always seems to be something else that pulls me away from them--like reading (which I love and will steal away to do any time I can), writing, grading papers (and with online classes, this happens in front of the computer screen--definitely not undivided attention to kids), and all the distracting social networking with Facebook, Twitter, blogs, etc. Not to mention that they are both completely obsessed with Pokemon right now, and I really don't want to hear about how to get past this or that level on the video game.

I do definitely spend time with the kids, but it's always with them together and that means bickering over who's going to pick what activity, song on the radio, snack-food item, you name it. Constant battle. So this year, one-on-one time. Check back on this one....

Also, on last year's goals list, I said that I would say one positive parenting observation to DG everyday. I didn't do this either. But it's still a good goal, one that I can realistically say that if I follow through on it, our family life will be infinitely better. I know that complementing the kids on what they're doing right works wonders to get them act appropriately, whereas nagging has the complete opposite effect. I'm learning that my nagging pattern with DG is having the exact same effect. He deserves better. He's a great dad, and I need to let him know.

Abundant Expression:
I think this is really a buzz phrase for bringing in more in your life. Last year, this was about money. Not so much bringing in more, but better managing what we've got. Budgets are always elusive for me, but without one, or at least some semblance of knowledge of what is coming in and what is going out, I can end up buying things I don't need, thereby creating more chaos in my life.

This year, I'm organizing every cabinet, closet and drawer in the house. This means I'll have an inventory of what we have and I won't end up buying 3 different sets of Easter hand towels because I can't find the original set I bought. This relates to bringing in more by actually getting by with less. More then becomes, instead of material things, order, peace, and time to enjoy my surroundings instead of spinning in the clutter.

Creative Expression:
So much belongs in this category: writing, scrapbooking, knitting, sewing, photography, dancing. It's hard to fit in all of these creative hobbies, but this year, I intend to find time for them all, even if it's just a little time on each one. I think it's important to do something creative every day, and while I can't obviously do all of these things in each day, I can knit one row in the scarf for T1, and I can take pictures of the pets with different exposures to learn more about the camera. I don't need to be an expert in any of these activities, but I do want to think, at the end of the day, "I created something today," and that will be enough.

Other (called work goals above):
So really anything can go here. Work wise, I plan to slow down, focus, and cross off 3 things from my project to-do list every day. I love my job, and sometimes it can feel overwhelming. Three things a day is doable, workable.

Other goals for 2011? Keep commitments, be kinder to others (especially my kids), practice patience.

I don't think these goals are necessarily lofty or unobtainable, and I don't even think they're the kinds of resolutions that I'll look back at next year and say, "Wow! I really didn't do any of this." These are ongoing ways of living that can enhance my day to day life and make each day have a little more purpose. And I'm ready to take on 2011 with purpose.

Christmas w/o the family

2010-12-30T07:47:00.000-08:00

I've mentioned how much I miss my family who are scattered up and down the west coast with me being the only one in Los Angeles. And at Christmas, this used to be a major travel time for us with trips to visit my sister in Oakland, DG's family also in the Bay Area, and my mom and brother in Seattle. In recent years, however, we've decided that we want our kids to have their own Christmas traditions and we now stay home. The kids wake up in their own beds, go out to their own living room, and greet the wonder that Santa has left them.

But the best part of all? We don't entertain anyone on Christmas day. No one comes over for dinner, we don't have to go anywhere to be with relatives, we don't even need to have a fancy dinner in the dining room with the china. We can stay in our pajamas all day and enjoy not having to do anything. That's what we did this year. We ate Chinese food at the counter for lunch. I made Prime Rib for just the 4 of us (it only had one bone!). We sat on the couch and watched A Christmas Story and drank hot chocolate in front of the tree.

Don't get me wrong. I LOVE spending time with family and friends. We had an amazing time with friends on Christmas Eve with a wonderful dinner and singing Christmas carols around their living room piano.

I have a tripped planned to visit my sister in mid-January, and the whole family will trek to Seattle for my mom's 78th birthday in April.

But this Christmas--gloriously alone, and I don't regret it.

So the Holiday wrap up goes like this:

T1 and T2 standing next to each other in the school program. Miracle!

A super rainy night at Disneyland. The rain looks like snow in the camera.

Listening to amazing carolers at the Tam 'O Shanter's holiday dinner

Christmas morning. I was the only one up FOREVER. Kids didn't get up until after 8!

Reading the response letter from Santa. He asked them to be good to each other in the new year and to listen to their parents. hahahaha

T2's special trip to the American Girl Store with friends for a fabulous lunch.

Overall, our holiday break has been wonderful. Now on to New Year's resolutions. I am definitely going to do things differently in 2011. How about you?

Christmas Memories

2010-12-22T14:26:00.000-08:00

Remember when you were little, and there's that one thing from Christmas, or Hanukkah, or whatever winter holiday you celebrate that really stands out in your mind as the most funny, or heartbreaking, or heartwarming? I think everybody has a memory like that. I've got several. Like the year my dad left and my 10-year-old brother put up all the Christmas lights by himself. My mother was so touched--at least I thought she was touched, but it was probably more a mixture of pride in her resourceful son, guilt in her divorce decision leaving us without a "Christmas light hanger," and sadness at her first Christmas as a single parent. Or the year my brother, sister and I stayed up all night--I mean literally all night--waiting for Christmas morning. We piled into my room with blankets and stories; we were all teenagers at the time. We still talk about it. Every holiday season, I call my sister and say, "Hey, remember this song from that album that we listened to every Christmas? Remember the one with the red cover?"

As my own kids are now the age when Christmas memories are being formed, I wonder what they'll remember when they get older. Will in be this year, when Los Angeles was deluged with rain storms of epic proportions that have kept us inside for days? They've moved from watching Pokemon on TV, to playing Pokemon on the DS, to playing Pokemon cards in T1's room. (Seriously, is Pokemon really that compelling?) Honestly, I think they're completely loving this unstructured time just to be kids without all the school, homework, activities, and playdates. Or will it be decorating the tree and uncovering the beauty of ornaments that slip their minds as the months between Christmases pass?

This was the first year that I think they'll remember decorating the tree. I decided to let T1 put on the tree topper. He is told so much that he needs to be careful, keep his hands to himself, play nicely and gently. I thought I'd give him a special task that would usually be bestowed upon a family member with excellent dexterity and calm, two things T1 doesn't really have mastery over yet. My thinking was, let him have something that calls upon his burgeoning maturity and bridges him from little kid to big kid. Maybe I thought too soon.

Yes, the tree topper broke, and then all hell broke loose. I got upset with DG, who was upset because he had a feeling that T1 couldn't do it, and then T1 went crying out of the room and hid because I yelled. Definitely a Christmas memory I'm not proud of, but here it is, for all of you--familly foibles and all. Off to Stat's we went to get another tree topper. And, Christmas memory restored.

Maybe it would have been better if we waited a year for this. Maybe he would have been just that much bigger and could reach the tree top better. Maybe we would pick a tree without a knot sticking out that would allow the topper to slip right over the top. Maybe, who knows. But this is the memory we have. This is the one I'll remember and I'm sure he'll remember and we'll laugh, "Remember that year we broke the tree topper? Hahahahaha"

It reminds me of that scene at the end of A Christmas Story. Ralphie's family Christmas dinner is ruined by an unfortunate incident with some neighborhood dogs and the Christmas ham. They go to a Chinese restaurant and while the waiters are singing Christmas carols, food is brought to their table. The camera zooms in and they're smiling, laughing, and enjoying themselves. The voice over describes the memory and you can see that this is the Christmas memory that they'll remember, not the missed ham. I think of our tree topper the same way. Every year, when I unwrap it, I'll remember the successful adornment and think about how T1 grew up a little that year.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. May the memories you make this year be joyous ones, and if they're not, I hope there's at least some humor.

Come Fly With Me

2010-12-02T14:56:00.003-08:00

I've written here many times about how much I love traveling alone on a business trip and how wonderful and quiet it is in a hotel room. It's nice to read and rest and have that time to myself, but what I absolutely loathe about traveling alone is the flying.

There's an irrational fear that takes over me just before the plane takes off. My heart starts to race and I shut my eyes tightly, like a frustrated baby in that moment before a desperate shriek. But I can't scream. I have no outlet for the anxiety that grips me in that moment. Then with an unnatural, awkward lift, the plane is in the air, we're on our way, and I'm fine.

I'm not sure exactly why I have this crazy fear of take-off, but I do have a general idea. It's probably a mix of statistics and knowledge of what's at stake. Most plane travel is extremely safe. It's probably safer than driving, but if a plane is going to crash, it's usually soon after take-off. And what's at stake in that event, when I'm traveling alone, is the thought, just the thought, of my family without me. That's what's at stake in my mind on the plane.

So that's why I have a little ritual that I do that makes me feel better, however hokey it is. In that tight-eyed moment as the engines are roaring, I visualize every member of my family. I'm embracing DG. I'm swinging T1 around me. I'm watching T2 dance as I smile. I picture my parents and my brother, my sister, nieces and nephews. It's calming. The tightness lessens; My hands don't grip quite as hard. I'm okay and then it's over.

I am grateful to have this little thing that I do. I can fly and know that I'll be home to love up my little family soon enough.

I did it

2010-11-30T22:19:00.000-08:00

Well, I did it. I finished National Blog Posting Month with this, my 30th post in 30 days. I am humbled by the perseverance required to write and publish everyday, and I learned a few things:

1. I can find some topics to write about that might be of interest to myself and maybe a couple of others.

2. The practice of writing everyday is very good for my writing skills. It's a lesson in craftsmanship. One has to think about structure, vocabulary, purpose and breadth.

3. While the practice of writing everyday is good for writing, publishing everyday is not. There were very many days this month when it pained me to push that publish button. I know that if I had more time, if I thought a little bit more, my posts would be more interesting. I mean, who really wants to hear every, little mundane detail of someone else's life? For me, it's better to write when I have something to say.

4. I can show my children through my example that when you commit to something, you must fulfill this commitment. A couple of times when I wanted to quit, I knew that I'd be sending the wrong message.

So now that it's over, what am I going to do with all that free time? Maybe I'll pay a little more attention to my kids. Maybe I'll be able to read more books. Maybe I'll have that time to organize my office.Maybe I'll think of more blog topics. I don't think I'll publish everyday anymore, but I do know that I'll keep writing. It's what I do.

Thanks for coming along with me this month. It's been quite a ride. Now, I'm going to hibernate......

The Key to Good Study Skills for Kids? Less Homework

2010-11-29T22:16:00.000-08:00

There is a tremendous amount of controversy surrounding public education and who's responsible for today's failings kids. Is it teachers? (the documentary Waiting for Superman faults teacher's unions). Is it lack of funds? (in California, K-12 education has been cut beyond needing a tourniquet and there doesn't seem to be an end in sight). Is it parents? (working parents are too busy to get involved in their children's education). Then there is the other side of the controversy. Kids who are over-scheduled and stressed out are facing tremendous consequences of burn out as they strive to be the best, have the highest SAT scores, take the most AP courses, and get into the top colleges. The documentary Race To Nowhere addresses this citing homework policies that have kids working for 6 hours a day or more as contributing to the problem. The film also says that teaching to the test, and teaching kids how to take a test, is not giving them the critical thinking skills that they will need to succeed in college or life.

As a college teacher, I see this manifested in two ways. Many of my students are unfocused, unprepared, and unmotivated. Definitely a product of a failing education system. On the other hand, I see students who are trying to balance more than one job and a family while trying to gain an education to advance beyond their current life and the lives their parents had. They are tired and careless. They can't focus.

I think about this a lot with regard to my own kids who, in second grade, while still relatively new to the public education system, are already showing a tendency toward patterns that could stick with them for the life of their education.

T1 wants to get his homework over with. Just today, he asked me, "Why do we have to do the same thing week after week?" They do about 2 worksheets a day as well as writing spelling words 5 times each twice a week. "It's boring," he says. I understand the idea of repetition as a way to reinforce concepts and to practice skills, but this is the same work he's doing in class. It's mega-repetition to the point of boredom.

T2 has the opposite opinion about the homework. She almost always turns it into a game for herself. Today, she pretended to be a teacher and gave a lesson on the homework to her doll. She enjoys doing it and creates similar work for herself when she doesn't have homework. I believe she has the intrinsic motivation that makes a life long learner.

Homework is part of education. Lifelong learners are constantly seeking answers to questions long after their formal education is done. They practice homework simply because they are never done learning. Homework and studying are how lifelong learners get to be lifelong learners.

Then again, there is research from Duke University by Harris Cooper that shows that there is no skills reinforcement with homework in elementary school. Children basically know what they need to know from the work they're doing in class. So why do they do homework? They have to, right? How else will they have the skills to study in middle school or high school? They've got to do something, right?

Our district last year developed a homework policy that is in line with the current research on the subject. The rule of 10 minutes per day per grade level is currently what my children are expected to do. We're doing that, but like I said above, it seems like even this 20 minutes needs an overhaul to make it relevant to the child's life and stimulating to their critical thinking sensibility.

I think the answer is elusive. I try to create more interesting tasks within the required homework, but that's often met with, "Mooommm, we don't have to do that!" Is the 20 minutes a day workable for my kids? Absolutely. Even though I don't know exactly what the magic panacea is to the dull homework, I do know what motivates my kids and I am more than willing to modify the homework to give the kids the unstructured play that will definitely fill their brains.

What's your homework policy? How do you inspire a love of learning in your children?

We got a new girl in the family today

2010-11-28T19:42:00.000-08:00

Today, T2 got to spend the gift certificate she got for her birthday (thanks super generous JL and M). She took a class this past summer reading books from the American Girl series. She fell in love with those stories of those plucky historically-themed heroines. She started asking for an American Girl doll soon after this. DG and I knew that this desire was probably tied to the reading (which is her real first love) and that playing with dolls is something she just doesn't really do. Barbies sit untouched in a drawer and last year's Christmas staple Liv dolls enjoyed a short-lived affinity in her life. We said, "no American Girl doll." She just doesn't play with dolls enough.

This has always bothered me a little. I LOVE dolls. As a kid, I played with every kind of doll I could get my hands on. I had a 18" doll, American Girl doll size, that I named Karen. My grandmother made all kinds of clothes for her. My sister and I played Barbies non stop with our neighborhood friends all summer. We even had Chrissy and Velvet dolls in the 70's. These were dolls whose hair could go longer or shorter with a turn of a knob on their backs.

Don't they have super groovy 70's outfits?

This doll is still in its case in my garage today. But T2 did not get the doll-playing bug the way I did.

Until now. Something shifted this year. She started playing with the Bitty Baby that was given to her by the very same JL mentioned above pretty much every day. She started asking to take the doll everywhere we went. She changed the doll into pajamas and read to her at night before bed. My heart was singing.

Last week, when she received the gift card for the American Girl store from JL, I teared up a little. I almost think I wanted the doll more than she did. And today, when we were at the fabulous American Girl store in Los Angeles, we shared a love of these beautifully crafted dolls that made us both giddy. She chose the Rebecca Rubin doll--a Jewish girl living in New York in 1914. She took the doll out of the box and immediately started creating an imaginary world in which Rebecca plays the main role. T2's stories rivaled the ones in the books. I can't wait to see how T2 and Rebecca's adventures play out.

We won't be able to visit the American Girl store very often. I'd go broke! But for today, it was magical to share this with my daughter.

Keeping Black Friday Black

2010-11-27T20:40:00.001-08:00

I think Black Friday gets a bad rap. I read an article today that focused on how people will mow over anyone to get the deal. I don't see it that way.

Even talking to my friends and family members, I get the rolled eyes and the, "Oh God! I would never do that. I mean, it's so indulgent." And, "We just don't do that many gifts."

I think the media paints the whole experience in a negative light focusing on the most outrageous of shoppers rather than those who see gift giving as an act of love and who see shopping on Black Friday as a way to cash in on savings that are, in some cases, better than any other time of the year.

My brother-in-law, in the market for a new washer and dryer, saved 50%. The store sold out of this deal in 2 hours. There's a sense of accomplishment in saving money. It feels good.

My experience was the opposite of the frenetic, intense knock down drag out fight for getting mine. I see Black Friday as a shared exercise in zen. You have to wait. You have to take time to park. You need to look out for your fellow shoppers and the store clerks who are doing their best in the face of the chaos. I take a deep breath. I think. I listen.

I'm staying positive this holiday season and while I'm not spending extravagantly, I am doing what I can for the economy staying calm all the while.

What's your thought on it?

What to do with that leftover turkey? Turkey Cookies

2010-11-26T22:34:00.000-08:00

Mmmmmm, turkey. Boy, that leftover turkey has always been a staple of the sandwich, maybe a turkey hash and the occasional shepherd's pie, but leave it to DG to get extra creative with the turkey.

Turkey Cookies.

I gotta admit, when DG said he was going to make cookies from the leftover turkey, we all mocked him. "Yeah, right. That sounds gross. C'mon, Dad, don't do that." I was envisioning sugar mingling with the turkey meat, and my stomach turned. But that's not what he had in mind. Here's DG to tell you all about it.

Those fried turkey "donuts," I gotta admit, were really good. He processed turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, and Brussels Sprouts and made a patty that he fried in olive oil. I know. You're welcome.

What are you doing with your leftovers?

Thanks

2010-11-25T16:23:00.000-08:00

I am grateful. I am so grateful for the wonderful life that I get to have.

A job I love.

A beautiful home.

Super sweet pets to cuddle.

And a family I love more than I can say.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.

Grateful Twin Mom

"The supermarket is NOT a playground!" and other brilliantly obvious quotes

2010-11-24T18:02:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time, a nice mommy had to get some groceries for a Thanksgiving dinner for 10. She set out, armed with her list, a large, empty cart, and two ~~hangers on~~ lovely children. She knew that there was a bit of a risk attempting this arduous task with two children; after all, they had already spent 3 1/2 hours at work with mommy, playing video games, reading, and being basically sedentary. She was determined, though. "This could be fun," she thought. They might enjoy being a part of this uniquely American holiday of togetherness. Families come together at Thanksgiving, and what better way to celebrate that than to share in every aspect of bringing the holiday to fruition? So what, they're only 8. They can handle it.

So they begin in the produce section. Quickly, the togetherness begins to deteriorate into determined shopper versus wild, giddy banshees in a battle of who can wreak the most havoc near hot house tomatoes. (The banshees win.) Large Granny Smith apples become cheek decorations, held closely to faces with a squeal of glee that is outrageously funny to children. Not so much for the mommy. "Stop that. That noise is too loud! Are we outside right now?" The apples drop into the bag, destined for home and later to be chopped into a pie. Wait, drop is not quite the right word--more like chucked into the bag. "Stop that," the mommy hisses. "They'll get bruised. Can you go get me some bananas now?" Off the mischief makers go to terrorize the bananas.

The still determined mommy finally steers the children out of the produce section only to be waylaid by the fresh, whole Dungeness crab on ice in the seafood section. The children see immediate opportunities for puppetry. The mommy sees salmonella. "Don't touch that. It's got bacteria!"

Onward to the meat counter to get the pre-ordered turkey. The mommy gives the order to the butcher. The children see this break in the action as a signal to create some more mayhem. All of a sudden, the aisle beside the ground beef and pork chops becomes a ring for a World Wrestling Federation championship. One child has the other in a headlock. Both topple to the ground again in loud peals of laughter that would have the world around them think this smackdown was the most fun they'd had in days. "What are you doing?" the mortified mommy questions. As if an answer to this question is what she really wants or even remotely believes she's going to get. Shoppers go by and give the mommy looks of questionable emotions. Sympathy in one face that says, "Oh yes, I feel you, sister. That's why I'm here by myself." Disgust in another, "Can't you keep those monkeys under control? What are you thinking allowing them to play in a supermarket the day before Thanksgiving?"

"The supermarket is NOT a playground!" the mommy points out. The children stare blankly back at her, pause for a second, and then burst into guffaws before trying to take each other down, karate-chop-style again. Knowing that she's got to do something to intervene, the mommy quickly makes a small list for each of the children. Go get this... the list says. Well now she's done it. The children bolt off in different directions in search of the "scavenger hunt" items. Their frenzy in trying to get the yogurt/orange juice/aluminum foil/cider vinegar indicates to the mommy that this is not a helpful gesture. It's become a race, and as with any race, there will be a loser. And a sore loser is fodder for more dirty looks from passing shoppers trying desperately to get their own cranberry sauce, and it has tremendous potential for being the straw that breaks the camel's back in the fragile balance between being silly and snapping into a tantrum. The children return with the items. They ask for more tasks. They want to work together this time. The mommy is pleased. She watches them as they go back again and again trying to find the exact right type of sea salt.

Finally, our little troupe of shoppers arrives at the check out counter. Various tempting candies call like sirens to the children. They are drawn to them, "Can we have one pleeeeeaaaassseeee?" "No," says the mommy, matter-of-factly, hoping that a non-response will help the desire blow over. The children become helpful, taking items out of the cart and onto the check stand conveyor belt. "Wait....no....not the glass...." cautions the mommy with a hovering hand as the 3 lb. bottle of apple juice finally makes it to the hands of the checker. "Wow, Mom, we're going to go over $300! This is a record!" one child bellows as he watches the tick, tick, tick of the register tape. The mommy slowly swipes the credit card, trying to resist the urge to hush the child. "We don't talk about money in public places, honey," she mutters under her breath.

"Would you like some help out?" asks the bagger. "Oh if only you could," thinks the mommy. "No," she says, "I think we've got it." she says. And the children hop on to the sides of the already loaded down cart. They make their way to the parking lot and the mommy spies another mom with kids entering the store. "Now stay right next to me and don't get into trouble," the mommy hears the new mom say. She passes the sympathetic look and smiles.

Thanksgiving is a time for ..... illness?

2010-11-23T23:30:00.000-08:00

I took T1 and T2 shopping with my for the Thanksgiving groceries. It was a crazy and funny time that I had all blogged out in my mind, but then...as I sat down to write....T1 projectile vomited all over his bed. Lovely. We're hoping he's not sick, of course. (He does have a pretty easy gag and vomit reflex--it could just be allergies) No, no, kids can't get sick! I've got too much to do. But he's back in bed now with a bucket next to his head.

What do you do if you've got a house full of people for the holiday, and your kid gets sick?

Almost There

2010-11-22T23:29:00.000-08:00

Wow. I can't believe it. I've got one more week and one day before the end of National Blog Posting Month. I can't believe I've made it this far, posting everyday. Meanwhile, I'm not getting ANY sleep, but hey, that's what coffee's for. And my office looks like this.

Can you see DG buried there?

Damn, no wonder I lost my USB drive with ALL my work on it.


Oh, yeah, and there's this: last month's camping gear, a letterpress print and some knitting.

This is what it's come to, but I'm almost there. And you know that innane saying? "Dull women have immaculate homes." I must be freakin' fascinating.....

Little Boys Are Made Of What?

2010-11-21T22:15:00.000-08:00

What's that they say? Something about worms, and snails, and puppy dog tails? Whatever. What I found out today is that little boys are made of an energy source that if harnessed could power all of Los Angeles. We had T1's Phenomenal Pokemon Party today with 15 boys and about a thousand Pokemon cards. Throw in a little sugar and it makes for a banner birthday celebration and an exhausting day for parents.

Highlights:

1. Boys can find fun in dirt.

2. Wrestling each other is a mandatory activity

3. Boys can learn the most intricate details of a Pokemon card within 1 minute of being exposed to one.

4. Trading said Pokemon cards is pretty much what they live for.

5. If they are so lucky as to trade Pokemon through an electronic device, all the better.

This pretty much sums it up. T1 had a great time, and who know that all his friends would be so into this renaissance that Pokemon is having. Well, I guess he did.

Discipline and Teamwork Rewarded

2010-11-20T22:44:00.000-08:00

We signed up T1 for karate lessons after he spent a summer in a class and found he loved it. He even said he wanted to skip the summer camp field trip to the circus so he could go to karate class. Fast forward 4 months. Today, he took the test for the next belt--orange in this case. He did it. He accomplished the techniques and punches and blocks necessary for moving up to the next level. I watched him do it and I was so proud. I love that this squirmy kid, who's often in trouble in class for talking or fooling around, could practice the discipline of karate with a dignity and grace that I knew he had in him all along. Part of my motive for having him take karate was to teach him the discipline of having to remember much information, pay attention to what is being said (to learn techniques) and to react to what is being done (to counter attacks). Martial arts are steeped in discipline and focus--and T1's applying some.

Just look at that orange belt!

The day of awards kept on going as we went to the end of the season party for T2's soccer team. This was a team of girls between 6 and 8 whose skills were a force to be reckoned with on the field. I'm totally NOT a soccer mom, and I normally find the parents who are screaming at their kids from the sidelines to be annoying at best and abrasive at worst. But something happened with this team. I saw this group of girls, who didn't know each other at all 3 months ago, come together as a team to play with each other instead of against each other. I got caught up, as all the parents did, in the amazing season they had. Today, as trophies were handed out, the coach said if he could find a way to keep this team together and take them through their childhood, he would. T2's desire was commensurate with the coach's enthusiasm. She grew as someone who could get along with others and work together for the goal, not always being the one who needed the glory--a major step for her.

T2 with coach

T2 showed some more maturity today as she had to leave the soccer party early to perform with her hula group. It's a hard concept for a just 8-year-old to fathom that she had to sacrifice one thing in order to do another. She wanted to do both. She honored both commitments and proved to me how committed she is in pretty much everything she does.

Dancing with stones like castanets

We topped off today's birthday celebration with a dinner trip to a super kitchsy, Polynesian restaurant with oodles of fish tanks and syrupy, sweet flaming drinks that come in giant bowl with 2-foot straws.

Bahooka, the ship-wreck restaurant

Loving the giant-bowl drinks

Birthday kids with lollipops. Fish look hungry

Today was a good day. It's the kind of day I became a parent to have. I relished spending the day with my family, kids doing what they love to do, and DG and I beaming with pride from the sidelines. So sweet.

Birthday Week continued

2010-11-19T23:56:00.000-08:00

Tonight, I'm working on the details for T1's birthday extravaganza. Last Sunday's baking party was a huge success, so we hope this Sunday's Pokemon battle will be equally as good.

I'm going to make Pokeball's out of styrofoam balls for the boys to catch their "Pokemon" in. If you don't have a 7- or 8-year-old boy, you might not know that a Pokeball looks like this:

I've got red spray paint and black electrical tape that I'll paint and wrap around the styrofoam. This is a project for tomorrow night because tomorrow's day is insane.

Tomorrow's birthday day looks like this:

T1's schedule: Leave home for karate studio at 10:30. Test for orange belt from 11 to 12:15. Travel to T2's end of the season soccer party to switch into Dad's car to go to his soccer game. Finish soccer game and go to DesignerCon at the Pasadena Convention Center where our friend is selling his toy line, Sketchbot. See a movie and go to dinner. Sleep 'cause 8-year-olds need their rest.

T2's schedule: Leave home for last soccer game at 10:30. After game, go to end-of-the-season soccer party at yogurt place. Arrive at Hula Performance at 1 pm. Dance for an appreciative audience, and return home to go to DesignerCon to get a Sketchbot. See a movie; go out to dinner. Crash into bed after a hard playin' day.

Mom's schedule: Drive around to all this crap and keep cool, no matter what!

The coincidence that all of our kids' extracurricular activities having major events on the same day near the same time means that DG and I will need to split up. I won't see T2's last game. DG won't see T1's karate belt test. But I guess that's what video tapes are for.

So while I'm running around and trying to get ready for the party, I hope that we can stay sane. Thank God birthday week will be over soon. What's that you say? Hanukkah is right after that? Then Christmas after that? Better get used to this.

8 is going to be great

2010-11-18T20:48:00.000-08:00

We got a glorious gift at the end of 2002.

And on Saturday, they will be 8. Time flies when babies are growing up. Happy birthday to my babies from your Grateful Twin Mom.

Little Boy Liar--and Bully to boot?

2010-11-17T16:36:00.000-08:00

T1's been lying to me. A lot. He never takes responsibility for his actions and is constantly trying to either pass the buck to someone else (most often, T2) or he rationalizes behavior with a disclaimer, "I didn't mean to..." I'm aware that little kids lie, and punishing them for lying, seems to me, is an invitation for more lying. I mean, he's already scared to tell me the truth if he's lying, so if I come back with a, "Don't you lie to me...." threat, he's going to shut down and tell me nothing. I suspect, if he's afraid to tell me anything he's done that can be misconstrued as outside my expectations for good behavior, this will become his pattern for sharing information with me at all as he grows up--avoiding it.

So how do I deal with this? I want to raise children who have integrity, who feel responsible for how their actions might affect other people. At what point am I making a big deal out of a small infraction, and at what point do I have to intervene?

This week, it was brought to my attention that T1 has been harassing an older boy at school. When I asked him why he did it, he completely denied it. (I know he did it because I have confirmation from 2 other people, and like I said, he's been lying to me.) It took a full day before he admitted to being involved in the situation, and even then, he made light of it, and instead of saying he was sorry or having any remorse, he blew it off and changed the subject. I am disturbed by this on so many levels. First, he doesn't seem to have any understanding of the other boy's feelings. Second, he doesn't appear to understand that when he lies to me, my trust in him is totally compromised. Third, and this is my own neurosis, I worry that he's on the road to being an inconsiderate jerk who, without any consequences for misbehavior, will grow into a sociopath.

DG and I talked about how to deal with this situation. After consulting with our trusted parenting advisor, we concluded that our job is not to threaten him with consequences for lying, bullying or misbehavior, because they will build a wall between us that will grow taller and taller over time. I mean, what's the recidivism rate among criminals released from prison? Do they respect authority? Rather, we need to redouble our efforts in teaching him right from wrong so that it becomes his idea to do the right thing on his own, and while I thought he already knew this, each new developmental level presents a new opportunity for a moments to teach him our values. Respect, kindness, compassion, hard work, and self-respect.

I'm willing to relate to him in a completely different way that will teach him that what I do, and not the empty threats that I want to say, is how grown ups behave.

Still, parenting conventions indicate that I need to

Finding the Working Mom Blogs

2010-11-16T22:58:00.000-08:00

I'm on the search for more blogs written by moms who work outside the home. I have found some cool ones written by moms whose job is to write the working mom blogs, (like Working Moms Blog and Working Moms Against Guilt) but not many when the mom has another, completely different job, but still wants to write her own personal blog.

This got me thinking. Why is it that there are so many fewer "working mom" blogs than "SAHM blogs?" It's not that SAHMs have more time. I know they clearly don't. In fact, when you're working at a job, (for the most part) you really actually have more time to concentrate on yourself and to work at a pace that seems infinitely slower than what happens at home (well, at least it does for me). No, it can't be the time. Is it that SAHMs have more to say? It's true, that most of the working mom blogs that I've seen have short posts and longer time between regular postings. No, that can't be it either.

I suppose at the end of the day, it doesn't matter. SAHMs and working moms have much in common. They both have to get kids fed, get baths, homework, papers signed and with backpacks, and the list goes on and on. And as far as blogs go, I find that I want to read those that provide me with a little bit of diversion from regular routine of my life. When I read them, I am reminded that we're all trying to float in the same boat--raising kids in a world that has spectacular demands on your time and energy. And that is why I find the time to read: Aging Mommy, Organic Motherhood with Coolwhip, Clueless but Hopeful Mama, Mommywords, Life in a Tiny Town and Swistle among many others.

Trying to balance between work and family is hard enough without any sense of knowing that you're not alone in this endeavor. I'm so grateful for my friends and family who read my boring musings, and I'm grateful for mom bloggers--SAHM, WAHM or work outside the home mom--who show me how they do it.

Mmmmmm--Brussels Sprouts

2010-11-15T22:30:00.000-08:00

One of the best parts about living in near Hollywood, is the Hollywood Farmer's Market on Sundays. DG goes every week and brings home the most amazing produce--strawberries, green beans, and sometimes jujubes. So since I am only getting to cook about twice a week right now, I'm excited when we get something good from the Farmer's Market. This week, it was Brussels sprouts.

I HATED Brussels sprouts for most of my life. Beyond bitter, the smelly, little cabbages were never a first choice in my culinary side dish repertoire. So you can imagine what the kids think of them. I've only recently learned how to cook them so that I like them. I used two ingredients that cut the bitterness and made them palatable. Sugar and vinegar. I sauteed the Brussels sprouts with some zucchini, added about a teaspoon of sugar, and when they were all cooked, I drizzled some super fancy aged balsamic vinegar over the top.

And this is what I heard after tonight's dinner:

Me to kids: How'd you like the chicken tonight?

T1: The chicken was okay, but those Brussels sprouts were the BEST.

What weird 7-year-old boy says that? DG suggested I write this post. "Tell people how to get their kids to eat vegetables." Well, I'm sure I don't know that, but I do know that this recipe definitely works on these two:

Looks like they enjoyed the zucchini the most!

And then it got LOUD

2010-11-14T22:41:00.000-08:00

Whoever said that girls are sugar and spice and everything nice, never hosted a baking party for 15 little girls. There was plenty of sweetness, and I'm not just talkin' about the cupcake icing, sprinkles, and caramel apple cider. But I had no idea how spicy these diminutive, spritely angels could be.

First order of business? Strom the hallway to see if they could mess up T1's room, which he had guarded with this:


You can't see it, but the sign says, "Keep Out! Boys Only!

A sea of screams leapt up and down the hall as they tried to crush the only semblance of a Y chromosome left in the house.

Their enthusiasm in creating salt dough ornaments was beyond intense. They were ninja warriors, wielding balls of kneaded dough like nunchucks The concept of "less is more" was completely lost on their "more, more, more" little girly-ness. The disks of dough were etched, poked, impaled, and razed so much that some girls needed to start over just to get one on the cookie sheet.

The decibel level really started to rise when the cupcake decorating began. All of a sudden, when sugar was involved, voices got more shrill, like squawking crows. "I want chocolate! I need pink frosting! Pass the cherries! I NEED CHOCOLATE!!" Decorating icing, sanding sugar, and sprinkles were pooled all over the table, and not so much on the cupcake. Ultimately, the girls took to rolling their 2nd and 3rd frosted creations in the dregs of the abandoned sugar not worthy to find its way to the original, more decoration-savvy first cupcake.

And one by one, as they started to leave at the end of the day, the house got quieter and quieter. DG came home after taking T1 on a playdate away from all the girls, and he said, "Why is the music on so loud?" "Because it's an 8-year-old's birthday party, and it got LOUD." That, or it's 1965 and I'm trying to hear it above the screaming for John, Paul, George and Ringo.

But above all, T2 had the time of her life. She was Queen Bee, with all the drones buzzing around her. This is her element. It was all for her--not shared with her twin--not compromised to accommodate other friends or people's feelings. She could take it all in. And that's what birthday parties are for.

I hope she remembers this party when she grows up. I still remember the cake at my 6th birthday, and I marvel now at how my mom was able to know exactly what I needed to feel special. T2 was special today, and now, as my ears are still ringing and I can almost feel how good the beckoning bed will feel, I am happy to have made her feel so.

Twin Birthdays Take a Whole Week

2010-11-13T22:54:00.000-08:00

Hey all, in case you didn't know, T1 and T2's 8th birthday is next Saturday. And this means birthday parties. That's right, I said "parties." We used to do the twins' birthday party as one large event. They had the same preschool friends; we invited both their classes to their parties; and, we invited many of their friends who are family friends we've had since they were babies.

I tried to talk them out of the birthday party this year. "Don't you just want to go to Disneyland or something?" I tried to bribe. "Seriously," they said. "We go to Disneyland all the time. I want to do something special." What's more special than Disneyland? Quality problems, I tell them. But they're growing up, and they have completely different interests now. I finally sucked it up and decided to give them each their own birthday party on different days.

Sunday proved to be the best day, so one party is tomorrow, and one is next week. Now, I know that parents with two kids always have to plan two birthday parties--they just get to do it at completely different times of the year. There could be advantages to doing them back to back. I'm thinking whatever I screw up at the first one, I can fix at the second one. I can serve any left over cheese from the first one at the second one. Of course, the baking party for girls will be completely different from the Pokemon party for boys, but I'm thinking bulk paper goods. Smart and Final, here I come.

So we're ready for the baking party. I made 30 some odd cupcakes tonight that the girls will decorate tomorrow. They're in the shape of an ice cream cone, so they can fashion the frosting to look like ice cream.


even upside down, those are looking pretty good

We're also going to make salt-dough ornaments and decorate those. T2 better like this party. 'Cause, while nothing makes me happier than to see little girls with flour smudges on their faces and chocolate smears near their mouths, I'm exhausted.

More photos tomorrow of the cupcake masterpieces.

Mom's Work is Never Done

2010-11-12T22:29:00.000-08:00

Do you ever have one of those days when you wonder how you're going to get it all done? Seems to me, that's the mother's constant dilemma. At work, I teach my classes, and at the end of the semester, it's done--over. There's a finite end to what I do, and I get to reinvent myself at the beginning of every semester. But at home, there's always another:

1. pile of laundry to fold

2. dish to wash

3. meal to prepare

4. school paper to sign

5. bill to pay

6. repair person to call

7. room to pick up

8. cabinet to clear out

9. toy to cull out of the hordes of toys not played with

10. bathroom to clean

11. birthday present to buy

12. lunch to pack

13. phone call to return

14. email to sort

15. sibling rivalry to manage

16. pet poop to pick up

17. library book to find and return before the due date

18. crust of pizza to pick up from behind the couch

19. floor to wash

20. playdate to schedule

21. child that needs something

And while the twins are old enough to do most things by themselves, it's the mom's job, MY job to make sure that everything that needs to get done (at home and at work) is in my massively cluttered brain, compartmentalized in easily recalled pockets.

And you tell me the holidays are coming? Wait, now there's another:

1. gift to buy

2. photo to pick for the holiday card

3. holiday card to send

4. present to wrap

5. party to plan

Like I said, it's never-ending. What's on your "always another" list?

What I Love About Volunteering

2010-11-11T21:14:00.000-08:00

Even though I have a full time job outside the home, I definitely feel compelled to be involved in my children's school as much as possible. I am currently the Membership Chair on the PTA board in charge of signing up families to help the state and national PTA advocate for school children across the country. I feel good about being a member of an organization that does so much for children, but it's basically a paperwork job that I do after my kids are in bed or while they're in school. It's great for lots of kids, but mine directly? Not so much.

I do, however, find the time, because I think it's important, to be involved in activities for the school that directly help my children learn something. This year, I'm working on the holiday craft fair, an afternoon in December where children can make art projects for gift giving for family members. This year, we're teaching them quilling and pointillism a la Georges Seurat.

I will get to be an integral part of my kids' education in a hands-on activity. What I love most about this kind volunteering, though, is working with the amazing other moms whose artistic minds and inexhaustible creative energy inspire me. Today, we got together, 3 of us, with all six of our kids, and while the kids played, we created crafts and art projects as samples for the craft fair. Imagine Grandma's pride when she receives something like this made by her own 9-year-old grandson.

I made this sample by attaching ribbon strips to a stryfoam ring with straight pins

Getting to volunteer to do something that I love, that benefits my children, with women who I admire and enjoy--that's a dream come true. This is what volunteering should be about.

Day 10

2010-11-10T16:46:00.001-08:00

With this post, I am 1/3 of the way through National Blog Posting Month. Blogging every day is harder than I thought it would be. Those who do this professionally have a big job. I do find that writing every day is a good exercise, but coming up with clever topics and snarky commentary on current topics in working mom-ville is a huge challenge.

I looked back over the last 9 entries, and some are so.....*snore* oh, sorry I must have dozed off from the boredom. I think there's a reason why I haven't blogged regularly before now. Turns out writing every day is good practice; posting every day is not.

My posts are so journalistic. Academic observations with a lack of emotion (ok--except for that shopping post...). Look out, folks. Tomorrow's my take on homework in elementary school. Links to Duke University and everything.

I wish I were a funny blogger or a provocative blogger, but I am, if nothing else, sincere. I blog because it makes me happy. I get to share my feelings in a medium I love, and if it strikes a cord for someone, then bonus for me.

I'm determined to finish NaBloPoMo no matter what, so clever or not, you'll find me here.

Is Family Dinner a Thing of my Past?

2010-11-09T17:58:00.001-08:00

I'm remembering when the twins were babies and we had family dinner every night. DG and I would sit down with the kids in the high chairs, we'd eat the same thing at the same time, talk about our day and watch the kids bang on their trays.

This practice continued when the kids were toddlers. Then, the only meal-time problems were getting them to stay in the chairs. It was a great way to end the day.

Fast forward to 2nd grade and activities 4 times a week, and family dinner is an anomaly, something treasured mostly in memory. Now, when we do eat together, it's a rush through meal to get to the homework or reading or getting ready for bed. It's not the lesiurely French family I fantasize about with long conversation, wonderful drinks and gourmet food.

Researchers say that families who eat dinner together have a better chance of having well-behaved, intelligent, and beautiful children who grow up to be rocket scientists and fashion models. It's the panacea for all that ails families. But is it out of my reach?

I'm wondering this as I am writing on my Droid, at T1's karate lesson, while I'm about to go get 3 different meals for 3 members of my family. (DG be damned tonight -- he's on his own.)

Do you have family dinner at your house? What do you like about it? What about it is difficult or frustrating? I await your wisdom...

Bloggy Math

2010-11-08T05:37:00.000-08:00

Here's some bloggy math for this tired poster on this busy Monday morning.

Daylight Savings Time X 2 kids = up at dawn yesterday. (Result is mommy crashing into bed at 9 pm).

6 potentially lengthy blog posts - time to percolate them in my head = short post today.


Today's work stack

Textbook reviews + quizzes to be graded + journals to be read - long morning hours X desire to exercise = Time To Get Going.

See you all tomorrow!

Why I Should Not Go to the Mall

2010-11-07T08:15:00.000-08:00

The other day, I had to give a presentation to the college's Board of Trustees and several school superintendents during a 7:30 am (!) breakfast meeting promoting the partnership between local high schools and the college where I teach. This could only mean one thing: I had to get a pair of pantyhose.

Since I have a super amount of autonomy in my job, no one says anything about how I dress for my job everyday. No one cares when I wear faded jeans to class because I have to shoot out of there right after to pick up my kids because it's an early dismissal day and we're going straight to soccer practice. Business dress in academia is a much different animal than in the corporate world. However, the "power breakfast" with people who actually do make decisions about education that affect lots of families kinda does require that I dress up a little.

So I head to the mall in the 30 minutes that I have between getting off work and picking up the kids. I know that I need just the one thing, but something happens when I get in the mall. Oooh. It's shiny! Music lures me into stores! Fashion beckons! I'm a sucker for a wildly stylish store window! I try to put on my blinders and go straight to the hosiery section in Nordstrom, but I can't help it start thinking about the other things I need that I could squeeze out of this trip. Concealer. Lip stick. Hair product. (These things seem to run out at the most inopportune times, right?)

On this trip, I actually get out of the mall unscathed, pantyhose in hand, concealer and hair products in a little bag for good measure.

But yesterday was another story.

I was at Starbucks with T2 while T1 was at karate. I saw a woman wearing this:

This is the Interlock Asymmetrical Dress from American Apparel. American Apparel is a place where I don't usually shop because the clothes are for tiny, small-busted adolescents and I am DECIDEDLY, not that. I'm a middle-aged woman who is as stocky as a football player and taller than pretty much ever woman I know. One-shoulder dresses are something that I NEVER wear. If I can't wear a bra, it doesn't make it into my closet.

The woman at Starbucks, however, was pretty much the same size as me. She was rocking the dress with a pair of leggings and ballet flats, and it looked really cute. All of a sudden, I had to have this dress. I plotted a trip to the mall to get it. Cars on the road were not driving fast enough. I almost crashed into someone pulling out of a parking place in my haste to get. in. there. I hustled through the department store with the massive make-up event that had homecoming-going teenagers lined up for free makeovers so I could get the dress that I NEEDED. I did get the dress, and it looked as flattering on me as I had hoped. Sometimes, when you see something, you just know. That's how it was.

But then I needed more. Spanx! Stylist's tape to hold the dress up! Wait! There's some cute jeans. Oohh, shiny things again. Stop. Stop. Stop. I calmly went to the counter, bought the dress, and quickly got out of the mall. Once home, I found I had everything I needed to wear with it. I wore it scrunched up as a top over a straight skirt (again, middle-aged women should not wear mini-skirts) to a wedding we went to last night. I felt confident and comfortable among the super-skinnies at the wedding.

Shopping season is coming, and I know I'll probably find myself in the mall again in the next 6 weeks. I need to remember a mantra like, "buying gifts, buying gifts, buying gifts." Distractions aside, I think I'll make it. I just hope no other super-stylish must-have clothing item makes it way into my mind's eye between now and then.

The Business Trip--the Stay-At-Home Version

2010-11-06T09:22:00.000-07:00

DG went to Santa Barbara on a business trip yesterday, and while he's only going to be gone overnight (he'll be back today to go to a wedding), I'm reminded of all the reasons why I like a business trip when I go. The best benefits (working moms, tell me that this is not better than a spa weekend) are staying in a hotel room by yourself, ordering room service so you don't have to actually talk to anyone or have anyone talk to you, catching up on horrible reality TV (last time I was gone, I watched Jerseylicious. I mean, the name alone, right?), and the QUIET--seriously, the quiet to read and write is truly the best part.

But this time, I was the stay-at-home parent. Seriously, one day is no big deal at all, but there are definitely some pros and cons of being at home as the only parent (of course, single parents do this all the time, and I whole heartedly admire them and their ability to balance).

PRO: I get the whole bed to myself to spread out my books, magazines--maybe a tray with tea.

CON: It's a little disconcerting to turn out the lights at the end of the night knowing I'm the only adult in the house. Leads me to some irrational fears. You know, the kind like Michael Myers from Halloween with the hockey mask is lurking at my window? What? You don't do that? See what I mean? My wild imagination is definitely a con.

PRO: When it's morning, we all get up at the same time. DG's a late-sleeper. Seriously, he'd sleep until noon every day if he could. Okay, maybe 11, but no earlier if he could help it.

CON: The day seems loooooonnnggg when you're you're up early and you're the only adult in the house. And LOUD. Did I mention I like it quiet?

PRO: I don't really need to cook. Somehow, having the whole family home makes me feel more responsible for putting a healthy meal on the table. Not that I have the time to do it more than about 3 days a week, but when it's just me and the kids, popcorn and a fruit smoothie is a perfectly suitable dinner.

CON: Too much sugar makes that day even longer.

PRO: There's one less person to get out the door. 'nuf said.

CON: I miss having DG here. We see so little of each other during the week as it is, having him gone over the weekend makes me miss him even more.

Again, I have no reason to whine when it's only one day. The pros far out weigh the cons over one day. Still, I'll be glad when he gets home. And the kids will too.

International Multiple Birth Awareness Week

2010-11-05T15:26:00.000-07:00

I've just discovered that November 1 to 7, 2010 is International Multiple Birth Awareness Week. This awareness campaign is sponsored by an organization called ICOMBO (International Council of Multiple Birth Organizations). ICOMBO's mission is to "allow individuals and multiple-birth organizations to share and develop resources, promoting and conducting projects and research regarding multiple birth development, care, and education, disseminating information and results of ICOMBO research projects and recruiting multiple-birth organizations worldwide" (icombo.org/media package). Some of the organizations associated with the organization include the National Organization of Mothers of Twins Clubs (NOMOTC) and Mothers of Super Twins (MOST).

The purpose of the awareness week is to promote a newly revised document by the organization that includes a Statement of Rights and Declaration of Need for twins and higher order multiples. There are 7 declarations of right and 10 statements of need meant to bring attention to the issues surrounding multiple births. "These statements [in the document] identify such issues as culturally sanctioned banishment and/or infanticide of twins, lack of proper prenatal care for mothers and their fetuses, a need for breastfeeding support, the importance of placing multiples together in adoptive environments, addressing the multiple bond when making classroom placement decisions, the balancing of individuality within the co-multiple relationship, and ongoing myths and practices that endanger the lives of twins and higher order multiples" (icombo.org/media package).

This document is very thorough, addressing every aspect of multiples from conception to parenting. I just want to take a look at a couple declarations from the document and pose my self-educated (and therefore decidedly non-scientific), twin-mom take as a springboard for discussion.

Item #1 says that families of multiples (as well as all individuals) have a right to freedom from discrimination of any kind. The document mentions that in some cultures, there is superstition about the origin of multiples which can lead to the "culturally sanctioned banishment and/or infanticide" mentioned above.

I didn't know this even existed. I discovered that this was a practice in parts of Africa, but research as far back as 2000 indicates that this practice has diminished and twins are now revered in these cultures. Perhaps this is similar to the judgment that families whose multiples are the result of infertility treatments have endured since the practice began. Years ago, when my twins were babies, there was much talk among mothers of twins about how in vitro twins were not "real" twins. I can't tell you how much backlash to these comments I read about in twins magazines. I felt it myself even. The blatant question, "did you use fertility treatments?" or even the more subtle, "do twins run in your family?" I received more often than not as a thinly veiled digging on the part of the ask-er as to the legitimacy of my twins. Like having twins naturally (especially identical twins) was some kind of badge of honor, and that twins like mine, conceived with assistance, were the lucky result of a sometimes speculative practice (among unscrupulous doctors, i.e. Octomom...). But that mentality has changed, I think, as the numbers of multiples overall are more commonly from fertility interventions than not. (Googled statistics I found show that 1 in 38 fertility births are twins, and 1 in 90 are naturally occurring). Still, that tone of voice when those questions are asked is harsh.

Item #2 says people in fertility situations have a right to information about the risks of multiple pregnancies and the risks associated with multiple pregnancies as a result of treatment.

I was 39 when I got pregnant with the twins. I was so focused on getting pregnant at all as we had tried for a long time with no pregnancies, that it didn't even occur to me that twins were a possibility. I don't remember having any consultation as to the probability of twins. I remember the day we had the insemination (we conceived with IUI) and the doctor said, "There are four follicles." I didn't even wrap my head around the fact that had they all been fertilized, we would be living a much different life right now. It wasn't until after we heard those two little heartbeats that I started researching how very different my pregnancy would be compared to my friends who were pregnant with singletons. I was going to be the exception to the all too common bed rest and prematurity and C-section. But, of course, I wasn't.

Item #6 is about how the bond of co-multiples is essential to their development and that keeping multiples together in foster care, adoption, custody, and education settings is a right.

T1 and T2 absolutely share a bond that is strong. I share a similar bond to my own sister and we're not twins, so I know that this is not exclusively a twin thing, but a deep investment in the well-being of the other definitely seems to be the case among the twins that I know. Controversy as to the placement of twins in educational settings has resulted in legislation in some states. Some school districts have historically insisted that twins be separated to foster their individuation, but more recently, parental voices are having more of a say in this decision. I always thought that I would separate the twins in class because they were so different, and I was right in the case of T1 who really came into his own when out of the shadow of his sister. But now, I am so glad to have the right to decide if I should put them together in class. As an educator, I see a huge value in collaborative learning that we could do if they were practicing the same curriculum in their homework. I have another twin mom friend who, after a couple years of having her twins separated, decided to put them together. It was a much easier and more comfortable environment for her very shy girl when she had the support of her much more self assured brother in the same class. DG and I, too, are considering putting our kids in the same class for the upper grades of elementary school. The risk, of course, is that they'll be compared by the teacher or treated as a unit, but this is a risk of any child in any class, I presume. We'll see. Jury's still out on this one. And speaking of individuation,

Item #7 says that twins have a right to be treated as individuals as any human being does.

This was always a no brainer for us as T1 and T2 are extraordinarily different, and they're different genders, also an easy way to differentiate individuals. I'm not so sure this is the case for multiples of the same gender and more so for identical twins. It's been my experience, though, that as one gets to know people, one is more inclined to notice the nuances that create individuals. That's certainly been the case for my kids in their comings and goings in the world, and I hope it continues. I'd be interested to hear the take of this from parents of identical twins.

With the prevalence of multiples in society today, I suspect that the anomaly of twinship that I grew up with will be diminished as my children grow up and interact in the world. I am happy, however, to recognize International Multiple Birth Awareness Week and practice these rights and provide for these needs for my little multiples in honor of their inclusion in a special group that is (as of now) still kind of a cool thing for them. And, as you all know, I am extraordinarily grateful for them.

Boredom, a Boy, and a Roll of Foil

2010-11-04T05:06:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I went to pick up the kids for another marathon afternoon of soccer, karate, PTA functions, etc. When I arrived, I hustled T2 to change into soccer clothes, and T1 started in with the whining. "Where's my DS? I want to play DS? Why, Mommy? Why can't I play DS Whhhhaaaaaaa." This is a battle we have every week when T2 has soccer practice. T1 rushes through his homework (that he does sitting on the bleachers) and then begs to play with some screen--the DS, his "Pokewalker," my Droid. We're in a park, for God's sake! Short of having two broken legs, he should be playing. PLAYING. Isn't that what little boys are supposed to do in the park?

Last week, he started in with the "I'm bored..." bull-sh*^%. Oh no you didn't. You did NOT just tell me you were bored?! Boy, you don't know what bored is. I showed him the perfectly climbable tree right. next. to. him. I wanted to start with the, "When I was a kid, we found our own fun in mud pies and sticks. Blah, blah, blah," but I caught myself. Didn't want to let on how OLD I am. He did end up climbing that tree, and he had fun. Lo and behold--no longer bored.

Yesterday, once he realized that I wasn't going to go back on my original command about staring at a video game in the park, he knew he had to come up with something else. Enter this:

This is a foil ball that T1 made in art class with some leftover foil. Notice the little indentations for a face? Eyes, nose, mouth? It's a guy screaming for a body. I suggested that we go to the store and buy some more foil. He could make body parts and put them together. Toothpicks become the "bones." He said, "you can glue it for me," to which I replied, "Yeah, and the glue can be like the joints, muscle, and skin."

Then, Foil Guy together.

T1 decided the foil man needed a "toy" and he started constructing this:

Cut to home. Here I am singeing my fingers with a hot glue gun to get the "muscles and joints" on the foil guy. Fortunately, the toothpicks are providing excellent structural integrity.

And then, it was done.

This little project is a wonderful testament to what kids can do with a little imagination. T1 is so proud of his creation. I can tell because at 10 pm and he came out from bed to ask me if it was finished. He played with it for a minute, making it totter awkwardly across the kitchen counter. The smile on his face said it all. He made it--from nothing more than $3 worth of household products. And he wasn't bored.

I don't want to sound like I never let him play video games or watch TV. That's just not me. God knows the TV has a sacred place in our house. Like everything else, I am in charge of creating the balance. There's a time and place for video games: when Mom's getting her hair done, at the bank during the signing of house loan documents, or when I'm engrossed in Real Housewives of New Jersey (okay, just kidding on that last one). The park is not one of those places. And I can't help but think that he's silently thanking me somewhere in his subconscious for this little respite from the technological age. Long live Foil Guy!

A blog post a day keeps the cobwebs away

2010-11-03T05:45:00.000-07:00

This year, I've decided to join NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) which traditionally takes place in November. The idea is simple--you post something every day for 30 days. What?!?! you say. Has she lost her job? No, more like I might have lost a part of my mind, but actually, that's not it at all.

I'm a writing teacher (academic writing, you know, like compositions and stuff--not so creative). I tell my students daily that the best way to be a better writer is to write often. NaBloPoMo is exactly this kind of exercise--an exercise in perseverance that one hopes will lead to better writing.

So I'm going to write. a lot. November is one of the most exciting months in our house as the twins birthday falls in November, Thanksgiving always leads to lots of interesting family drama that could be fun to read (I mean, who doesn't have drama surrounding Thanksgiving?), and Hanukkah falls early this year. Yay. Hopefully this means I'll have lots to say.

NaBloPoMo is a way for me to keep up with the practice. If you get this blog through your email, feel free to just delete them as they come through every day, or browse and discard. Whatever works, but don't feel obligated read all of my innane musings mostly stemming from the crap I think about while driving around all day. It's shaping up to be a rocky month...

I Have an Obligation to Vote

2010-11-02T12:08:00.000-07:00

Today is election day. Last night, I talked about the ballot measures with DG, read some blogs with various picks on the candidates and issues, marked my ballot, and placed it in a place in my work bag that I know will make it out the door. Ever since I was 18 years old, I have voted in every national primary and general election. I feel I have an obligation to vote--as a citizen, a woman, an educator, and a mother.

Don't worry. I'm not going to get all political on you. I would describe myself as not very political at all. I'm not that person at a party who starts a conversation with, "Can you believe what those yahoos are doing in congress?" I quietly have my beliefs and try to stay out of the conversation. Except for those ubiquitous bashing political ads. Hate them. Kinda makes my stomach turn, and even more detrimental, makes me shut down and become mistrusting. Political rally-er, I am not.

But if you really think about it, most people practice things in their lives that can be construed as a little political. As moms, we make decisions about what we're going to feed our children--to breastfeed or not--organic or not. We make decisions about education--public or private school. To others around us, these decisions can be seen as a progression of our political agenda. It's based on our values, the way we want our children to have the best lives they can--often better than the lives we've had. I mean, even as a member of the PTA, I am a part of an organization that lobbies for children and good education practices. As moms, we are our children's best proponents.

As a college professor, I try to let my students know that voting is one of the most important things they can do to advance their own beliefs. So many of my students in the suburban community college where I work feel like voting is something they don't feel qualified to do. They're just 18. They don't understand the propositions or the smear campaigns of the candidates (well, let's face it--who does?). And I tell them that is precisely the point of college. To learn about their world and to have a say in its future. They say, "But no matter what I say, politicians are going to do whatever they want, so voting or not--it doesn't matter." Arrggghh, I sigh. Apathy. No, no, no. Imagine what leaders might do if you did not have a voice. Voting assures that differing opinions are brought to everyone. Your voice matters.

I read a quote by Thomas Paine that says, "Those who expect to reap the blessings of freedom must undergo the fatigue of supporting it." Fatigue means work. The suffragists were tireless in their efforts. As a woman, I feel I owe it to them to learn about a campaign and vote. I have a responsibility to support my freedom and the right that they fought so hard to gain.

So today, when I pick up my kids, we'll march over to the polling booths, place the ballot in the little hole-puncher-thingy (I know, I think that's the official name for it), and fulfill my obligation. Whatever the outcome of the election, I feel good knowing that I am modeling good citizenship for my children. Who knows, I might even hand over that little "I Voted" sticker to them.

Small Town Halloween

2010-11-01T06:13:00.000-07:00

Wow, I just went on Facebook this morning, and everyone is posting about their Halloween. There's my niece, who made a killer Dia de los Muertos mask with make up on her face, a bunch of cute 5th grade nerds, and lots and lots of parents getting in the spirit with their kids.

We live in a small town. It's got a population of about 25,000 and a small city limit. This all adds up to running into neighbors and friends everywhere we go. Our weekends are filled with this: soccer games, grocery store, and the local yogurt shop. Last night, we joined the throngs of trick or treaters who cruised along one of the major residential streets. Houses decorated. Kids running like crazy. Streets actually blocked off because foot traffic is more prevalent than street traffic.

My kids got more candy than they can eat in a lifetime, and the visited the scariest house in town. Freddy Krueger even jumped out of a corn field they erected in their front yard to scare innocent trick or treaters. T2 braved the front door for a handout, but T1 stayed quietly on the sidewalk until a chain saw maniac ran wild in the street. Terrified, they said they were ready to go home.

Voldemort and Hermione aim wands

It was cold. Good thing I finished that scarf.

Dang, could he look any more un-dead?

Ummmm, yeah

It's not Halloween unless you're stuffing your face with candy

I am so proud of the homemade costumes which fit right in with the tons of Harry Potters we saw around town. Hope you had a great Halloween too. What traditions make your town special?

The Joys of October

2010-10-28T23:20:00.000-07:00

Just to recap--my trip to Lake Tahoe earlier this month with my sister was wonderful. I always get so much out of being with her. I'm reminded of when we were kids and had nothing but time to play together. The scenery in Lake Tahoe was beautiful. And my sister's dog, Little Hawk took in every part of it.

The view outside the cabin

Crazy how we have the twins-y hair cuts, no?

Ok, show of hands, how many think this is the cutest dog EVER?

----------------------------------------

This has been a relatively cool October in Southern California. I am perpetually confounded by the weather lately, as October, in the recent past, has been extraordinarily hot. But this year, I’ve been breaking out the Crockpot, wearing sweaters, and driving in the rain—an extreme sport in Southern California. The weather definitely is getting me in the mood for Halloween.

Usually, beginning in early September, when the costume catalogs start showing up in the mailbox, we trek on down to the party store, peruse the wall of adorable looking children in cute looking costumes, and the kids point ecstatically, “that one, that one!”

Down comes the industrial plastic bag with a handle fused to the top, and the kids extract the crappy acetate, shoddily constructed, ill-fitting costume with many ooohs and aahhhs. From me, it’s more like ewwwws and ooohhhs. How could this possibly be the same as that picture on the wall? I don’t know why I’m surprised, but the quality of the packaged costume is never as good as I think it’s going to be.

That’s why, this year, I worked on persuading my kids to go with the homemade Halloween costume. Oh, I know this means work for me, and as a mom who has a job that I have to go to everyday, this presents the age old dilemma of how do I find enough time to do this. Well, here’s my mindset on time lately…..

You can find the time to do anything if you really want to do it. So I set out to make Halloween costumes in my spare time. I had to start in September, but I think it's finally come together.

T1 wants to be Voldemort (you know, the most villainous of all villains--He Who Must Not Be Named). So I figured, easy; some robes, some scary make-up and we're done. We were going for this:

I made this:

Not to be out-Harry-Potter-ed, T2 decided to be Hermione. I found this cute photo of the "smartest witch of her age" and decided to copy this:

We had the robe and Gryffindor tie from last year when T1 was the ubiquitous boy wizard. So it was fairly easy to put together this:

The scarf is tucked behind the shoulder on account of the fact that it is still not done. Super cute knitted scarf takes a loooong time!

I was having so much fun making costumes, that I decided to keep on going. What's a few more, when you're already on a roll?

We had tickets to Mickey's Halloween Party at Disneyland. It's a costume party, trick-or-treating extravaganza inside Disneyland Park that runs through October. So really, it's like Halloween night every night. Our kids literally came home with SIX pounds of candy. I kid you not. DG said, with the same tone as the proverbial "walked-to-school-in-the-snow" speech, "When I was a kid, we went trick-or-treating once--on Halloween."

Well, if you're trick-or-treating twice, you need two costumes, right? I made us into a pirate family.

DG got the pirate vest and pirate bustiers at the 99 cent store. I coupled them with striped tights and made raggedy pants and skirts. T1 didn't want to wear the paper 99 cent store vest, and I can't say that I blame him, so I cut that skull and crossbones from an old, white T-shirt and sewed it on the red one. He loved it!

I'm still so shocked that I had the gumption to make all these costumes, but now that it's all done, and we're really for Halloween, I am pleased with myself. Not only did I accomplish something I set out to do, rather than scrapping the projects with a defeatist "Oh well, I didn't have time to do this anyway," but also I rekindled that DIY, homemade part of myself that so rarely gets let out these days. Being creative feeds my soul, and while there is an element of creativity in my job everyday, it's nice to make something with my hands and soak in the gratitude when the kids say, "Thank you, Mommy! I love this costume!" (No really, I'm not lying--they both said that. *shock*)

Kinda makes me want to get ready for the next project. Do you think maybe they'll need costumes for the school Holiday show?

The Getaway

2010-10-08T07:38:00.000-07:00

Okay, after all my bitching and complaining about all I have to do, and how can I find time for it all, I get to have the opposite this weekend. I am traveling to Northern California to go to Lake Tahoe with my sister and her husband's family. This is by myself--without my husband and kids. I go to Northern California every fall to visit with my sister.

I don't think there is a person in the world who gets me better. She's like the other half of my brain and soul. We have been each other's best friend and confidant since we were little girls. When she moved away, I knew that it would be so important for us to continue to keep the lazy togetherness of our childhood alive--times when we just sit together in the same room, but don't need to talk, and then we can talk for hours, long into the night about ANYTHING. Our unusual sister-bond is remarkable by most standards, and I long to spend time with her. Now it's here.

I can't think of a better place to rejuvenate than Lake Tahoe. I intend to suck in the mountain air until my lungs are filled with the richness of fall. I'm going to knit (I'm making a scarf for T2's Hermione costume), watch movies, and sleep. Oh, glorious sleep.

And at home, I know everything will be fine. DG is a superdad. He actually is excited to take the kids to all their activities (Oh boy, it's a lot too--a future post that I am definitely itching to get out--lots of opinions). Two soccer games on Saturday, two different classes for both kids today at different locations during the same time. DG'll get a taste of mom taxi for sure.

And when I get back, I'll hug them and I'll be a better mommy because I'll get to remember who I am. Do you ever take time for yourself away from home without the kids?

Toppling Plates Revisited

2010-09-30T22:55:00.000-07:00

So the balance theme continues to permeate my posts, and sometimes, I gotta say, I find it so redundant. I mean EVERY mom deals with this, right? Meanwhile, maybe that's why it gets so much attention--because we all deal with it. As an older mom, I had a lifetime of experience before I had kids. When your life changes so dramatically, and you keep trying to have parts of the old life peppered into the new one, there's going to be some roadblocks. I'm getting more creative in navigating roadblocks and finding detours that I didn't even know existed.

I took some actions last week to try to get past my roadblocks and find fulfillment in my varied life. (I know--this is a quality problem--sometimes I feel like I don't even have a right to complain because my life is so blessed, but here goes anyway.)

First, I wanted to try going offline for a while. No reading and commenting on blogs, no Twitter (okay--that one's easy to fit in, so I only stayed away from that for 3 days), no Facebook. I found I was focused and productive in my job and present with my children. I was in mono-tasking mode. Felt very old school, but strangely rewarding--for a time.

I assessed things that are important to me. Is it important that my kids get to every single soccer practice or dance class in the week? Not really. What is important to me is taking care of myself physically, emotionally, and creatively. I have one of those unfortunate, narcissistic personality traits of wanting other people to see me as a vibrant and valuable participant in all I do. In all the roles of my life--wife, mother, professor, blogger, crafter, writer, cook, and volunteer--I want people to see that I'm doing a good job. And while this has always been important to me, I am starting to shift toward seeing what I do as good enough for me regardless of what anyone else thinks.

I made a schedule. In order to fit in everything I want to do in my day, I had to come to the realization that I can't do everything everyday. It's got to be compartmentalized. Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday-- work out. Tuesday, Thursday, Friday--writing. Like that. Scheduling is what I hound down my students' throats on a daily basis. It's about time I tried it myself.

I forgave myself. I can't be all things to all people. I'm a perfectionist, and trying to stay the perfect everything is exhausting and demoralizing. I downsizing my big personality.

I don't know how long this new "c'est la vie" attitude will last, but I'm going to keep working on it.

When the Spinning Plates Begin to Topple

2010-09-17T21:27:00.000-07:00

I work at a job that I love. After a disappointing undergraduate experience that I barely passed, I finally found my passion in my late 20s and decided to go for it. This meant another 3 years of graduate school, teaching part-time at 3 or 4 different community colleges for a few more years as a "freeway flyer," and finally landing a tenured position teaching (as opposed to "publishing") at an institution of higher learning a full 11 years after I finished my undergraduate degree.

I remember sitting in my office in my first semester and the president of the college, a good 'ol boys' good 'ol boy, came in to see me, and, in the course of our conversation, he said, "You know, this is the best job in the world. And even more so for a woman (as an aside, what you need to know about this guy is that he later was removed from a Chancellorship for sexual harassment and indiscretions. Not really the most tactful with the ladies). There's a lot of flexibility when you have your children." Well, of course I was offended. "What?" I thought. "Do you have any idea what I went through to land this job? There were 120 applicants for my job. If you think for one minute I'm going to throw it away for a life of wiping snotty noses, you've got another thing coming, buddy." Besides, I was single--no sign of a husband or children on the horizon, so I was good, I thought.

But I did get married, and I did have children. And he was right. I took off for 6 months after the babies were born. I taught at night so I could be home with them during the day. I taught online, logging in at night and on weekends and in snippets of time between feedings and diaper changes. I do work outside the home now, so I use the after-school program a few days a week. I can mold my schedule so that I can stay at work late a couple of days and still be available to drive the kids around to their throngs of extra curricular activities.

This is dreamy, is it not? It's the ideal situation that so many working moms crave--a chance to be fulfilled and stimulated intellectually while still being able to be the nurturing, available caregiver. I presumably have the best of both worlds. If that's the case, then why do I feel like I'm floundering in both of these areas for which I have a huge responsibility? The balance I'm so craving seems far outside my reach right now.

I recently read a report on the myth of multitasking. The report states that people don't technically use their brains doing more than one thing at a time, but rather, their brains are actually shifting in rapid-fire succession between things. I feel like this is what I'm doing all the time. I mean, even in the course of writing this post, I've had to get up to let the dog out and pause to give my son some homeopathic drops for the cough that is keeping him up and in my face. Not only am I physically torn away from the moment, but my brain is rapidly moving back and forth like a schizophrenic metronome. I am, therefore, failing a little bit at everything I do. I don't want to be perfect, but I would like to feel a little more peace.

Recently I found myself wanting to retire from my job--not quit, not get another job--retire. Obviously a momentary lapse in reasoning and logic, right? I was longing for more time to read and write for my own personal fulfillment, and retirement seemed the only reasonable way that this could happen? Clearly I've got to make some changes. What those need to be, I don't know.

But I do know this. I have an obligation to both my job and my family. I have to keep the job (without it, the family would not have health insurance) and I have to raise the kids. I have a responsibility to be present and wholly focused on each one when I'm engaged with it. I need to make space in my life for those little moments that absolutely make time race.

How can I do this? Am I just chasing the mythological life of the Supermom? Will my brain explode as I try to tweet about my kids' morning routine while preparing for my class while driving in the car? Something's gotta give.

How do you balance personal fulfillment with parenting?

"Mr. D, your house is on fire!"

2010-09-05T08:10:00.000-07:00

"Hang up and call 911! I'm on my way" were the words I heard my husband scream as I was on the other line with his assistant last Tuesday. "The housekeeper called," the assistant said. "Your house is on fire."

Shock. Stumble. No. It can't be. There must be some mistake. This can't be happening. I hung up the phone and went back in my office. "I think I need to go home," I quietly said as my co-workers started to rally me out the door.

These are not the words that you're ever supposed to hear. Disaster is something that befalls other people, and you sympathize, you send aid, you help them recover, but it doesn't happen to you. In my mind's eye, as I tried coolly to drive, I could see the flames melting my children's toys, my computer, all the memories of my life in photo albums and irreplaceable heirlooms. I imagined being homeless, trying to explain to my children when they came home from school that we'd rebuild our life, that this was a way for a fresh start. We'd be okay. Then I thought it can't be that bad. Stop going to the darkest, bleakest possibility. After all, the fire department was already on its way. The fire would be out by the time I got home.

I called DG. He sighed, "It's okay, the fire's out. Just get home and we'll deal with what we have to deal with."

I pulled up to my house as the fire engine was pulling away. I've seen this in the movies before; the main character drives down her street like she's done a million times before and sees the fire truck in front of her house. The same pit in my stomach rose into my throat. I tried to keep from crying.

DG and my housekeeper were in the garage. Burned debris was all over the driveway. Water pooled in places and trickled down into the gutter. "Thank God you're okay," I whimpered as I threw down my things and embraced my long-time housekeeper, the woman who brings gifts for my children every new year on 3 Kings day as is the custom in her country, Mexico, the woman who has been a part of our family for 15 years. "I tried to put it out, but when I put water on it, it got bigger."

"Thank you for saving our house," I said.

We were amazingly lucky. The fire burned a pile of things we were storing by the side of our house. An old dog crate, some toddler high chairs that attach to the table, boxes, potting soil, planting pots and mulch. As the flames rose up the wall and over the roof, they only burned external items. The electric meter was burned, the tankless water heater was fried, and a ceiling spot light in the eaves was melted, but nothing structural was damaged. The fire was against the wall and never entered the house.

The fire department did a thorough investigation. They went into the attic and took temperature measurements. Our electrician came out and checked our circuit breakers that turned off during the fire, saving the house from an electrical fire. The house was fine. We were fine. In a matter of 20 minutes from the time the fire started to the time it was out, we were fine.

How could this have happened? I wondered about all the junk I piled into that space, never once thinking that it could be dangerous. The fire department thinks a spark might have charged from a battery we had stored there for an electric scooter (you know, the kind that's like a wheelchair we used when my mom visited when she could still walk a little). Maybe it was from the potting soil or fertilizer. Just a hot patch with a piece of glass that caught the sun just right on the pile of what I now know was kindling? We'll never know. They put the cause as "indeterminate."

Our lives could have been irreversibly changed by an "indeterminate" cause. The possibility of what could have happened was infinitely worse than what did. DG and I followed nearer each other for the rest of the day. I hugged the children a little tighter when I picked them up from school. I thanked our housekeeper again and again for her quick thinking. If she hadn't been there...if this had happened on a Monday or Wednesday when we were at work....

But it didn't. The forces in the universe that make things happen when they do must have been looking out for us. Call it God or whatever you want, something went right that day, and I am so grateful.

I Want What I Want When I Want It -- the 7-year-old version

2010-08-26T16:50:00.000-07:00

Conversation between me and T1 at our niece's Bat Mitzvah this past weekend:

Me: Oh look, honey, you get to sit at a table with all kids; you don't have to sit with your parents. Won't that be fun?

T1: Okay. I want to sit with G (cousin) and all the other boys.

Me: Let's see. Oh, you're at the (Broadway-themed) "Hairspray" table and G is at the "Fiddler on the Roof" table.

T1: No! I don't want to sit at the "Hairspray" table. It's a bunch of girls!! I want to sit with G!

Me: But his table is full. There are already nine 10-year-old boys at that table. Your at the table with the littler kids.

T1: I WANT TO SIT AT G'S TABLE!! I DON'T WANT TO SIT WITH ALL GIRLS!!

(Tantrum escalating--speeches ensuing from the stage--7-year-old voice carrying with amazing range in the auditorium acoustics--me beginning to feel heads turning and eyes glaring)

Me: Calm down, honey. There's nothing I can do about it. (My voice starting to raise too as I pull him by the hand into the bathroom).

T1: WHHHHWAAAAAAAAA

Me: (virtual steam rising from my ears.....voice in my head saying, "oh suck it up, little guy. It's just a dinner. My God! but actually saying:) How about you sit with Daddy and me? There are other cousins at our table.

T1: I want to sit with G!

Me: There are no seats there. You CAN'T sit there. Want Daddy and me to sit with you at the "Hairspray" table?

T1: Nooooooo. I won't do it!!!!!

Me: (exasperated) I'm guessing this situation is making you feel left out. Like you don't belong where you've been put. How would you like this situation to be? How can you solve this problem?

T1: I want you to ask Aunt B to put another chair at G's table. Just go ask her.

Me: (wanting so badly to rectify this "gross injustice" as I figure this MUST feel to my son. Wanting to swoop in and stop the tantrum, the disappointment, the frustration, but knowing that doing so will cripple my son in the future when he must manage any and all situations when he doesn't get what he wants when he wants it)

Me: No. . . . I can't do that.

T1: Pleeeeeessssee, Mommy? (gasp, sob)

Me: What can YOU do?

T1: Can I ask G to put another chair at his table?

Me: That may be a good plan. Why don't you try it.

(T1 runs off to consult with G about all things boy that, I was beginning to quickly learn, include being sat at the right table. I hold my breath, watching over the ballroom as the exchange goes on. I try not to look. I don't want to see the tear-stained face return, crest fallen because I know what's going to happen next. He's gone. He doesn't come back. I reluctantly sit down to my own dinner, anxious. Where is he? What happened? Should I go look for him? Is he okay? Is he crying somewhere in a corner? Is he at G's table? I spy him. He's got a plate of food; he's headed for G's table. A chair is waiting for him. Wow, he did it, I say to myself.)

We are so much alike, T1 and I. Every milestone he makes over his sensitivity and social awkwardness is a triumph for me. It's something I struggled with so much in my childhood and want so badly for him not to have to feel. But I know it's going to happen. Can I sit on my hands and let him have his moments? Even the disappointing ones? I'm going to have to. That's my job.

Remind me to call my mom and tell her I appreciate all the anguish she must have endured raising us. Think I'm going to go get her a medal....

And the Camp Mom Award for Engaged Kids goes to Team Twins!

2010-08-19T23:50:00.000-07:00

One of the best benefits of my job as a professor is having summers off (mostly--I usually have to work for 6 weeks of it) with my kids. It means that I don't have to scramble to find some stimulating activity for them from the 3rd week in June until September 1st. Here's where it gets complicated though. Since I do have to work a little in the summer AND my semester begins at the wildly inconvenient time of the 3rd week in August, I do have to put the kids in some kind of part-time summer activity day camp. This year, they did summer school and camp through the local school district and seemed to have a really good time.

Summer is almost over and the kids will be heading back to school with what I hope are sweet memories of our travels, fun days at summer day camp, and time at home with each other and me. As a working mom, I always look forward to the time I get at home with them. I get to be a stay-at-home mom for a sweet month. And I always dream that this time will be filled with crafts and art projects, baking and swimming and card-playing. Instead, I'm distracted by my own desire to read or sew or edit photos--write a blog, maybe. It's mind boggling how I can want to be with them so badly, and when we are together for a day, I struggle with giving them my undivided attention.

Cut to 7-year-old twins being silly, ramping each other up, getting critical about who is getting what turn, and then, ultimately, trying to kill each other from the togetherness. Quick, Mom, do something!!!! It's time to engage (like Elastigirl says to Mr. Incredible).

Enter Camp Mom. I thought if I could replicate all the fun of camp at home and give the kiddies some purpose for the time together, we'd all have a better summer. I came up with a schedule of activities for the whole day. Campers had to tidy up their "cabins" (rooms), pick a team mascot (stuffed animal), and create a team song to perform during the night time "campfire." We had a scooter race, obstacle course, scavenger hunt (otherwise know as shopping at Trader Joe's). They created cards for their grandfather, something I had begged them to do for days, that they were finally willing to do under the guise of the "Bon Voyage Boat Craft" at Camp Mom.

At the end of Camp Mom, teams were awarded "Trophies" that they had helped design.

There were a few teachable moments during the day. The team competitions really had them in a frenzy over fairness. Having points awarded based on being the fastest or jumping the farthest taught them about sportsmanship (after a considerable amount of crying). Creativity points were awarded to the most thoughtful mascot decoration or "cabin" arrangement, presenting them with a stronger sense of perseverance and attention to detail. T1 said at one point, "I was having so much fun that I forgot that I hadn't played my DS!" Really? You mean I can get your face out of that machine by providing you with a creative endeavor that speaks to your sense of competition? Why had I never tried this before?

More than the success of Camp Mom as far as the kids were concerned, (trophies! field trips! treats!) was the complete sense of engagement with each other. I got what I had been looking for all summer. While I know that this wasn't rocket science, and that creative moms do stuff like this everyday, for me, it was a triumph over the anxiety that sometimes takes over when I try to figure out how I'm going to be with my kids and accomplish all the things that fulfill me at the same time. I gave myself over completely to the nurturing of these children, without the distraction of the work that I wanted to get done, for this one day, and it felt right.

While we were at the park, me orchestrating an obstacle course race, another parent commented on what we were doing. "That's quite a system you've got going there. Have you been doing this all summer?" I laughed. "Are you kidding?" I said, "we've only been doing this for today!" But for that one day, we were a unit--like a real camp. We had a common goal--to have fun together--and that we did.

Think I should put together Camp Mom for this fall? Hmmmm.

Romance Revisited -- With Kids!

2010-08-10T22:30:00.000-07:00

Ten years ago, I went on a trip to Michigan with my then boyfriend to visit his family and see where he grew up. We traveled to Mackinac Island and stayed at the Grand Hotel where he proposed in the Rosalind Carter suite.

My life changed so much in that moment. I was already pushing middle age, and thought that marriage and kids were just not going to be for me. I had begun to wrap my head around the fact that I'd "mother" all my students and that would be enough. But in that moment when that ring went on my finger, I felt a sense of serenity, hope, and home that comes from knowing that you are truly loved, unconditionally, and that someone wants YOU to be the one to share life's biggest moments. We held hands at dinner that night and contemplated our future.


Ahh new love--just engaged and looking kinda scared.

DG said that night, "Someday, we'll bring our kids here." Swoon. This was exactly what I wanted--to have a family to make memories with. When we left the island, we swore that we'd return and show our kids the enchanting, horse-drawn, "somewhere in time" place that was the setting of one of the most memorable times in our lives.

So fast forward 10 years. With twins. It's like this: Romantic Island + kids - 10 married-life years = a decidedly different experience.

BEFORE -- Romantic Dinner in the Grand Hotel Dining Room when we could dream about our future and gaze lovingly at each other in the beautiful surroundings.

AFTER -- Okay, we still got to do this one. They have a Kid's Club at the Grand Hotel where they have a children's activity from 6 to 9 in the evening, allowing Mom and Dad to go to the dining room sans ones who will make them sticky.


Quite a bit older now, huh?

BEFORE -- We took a leisurely bike ride the 8.2 miles around the island and took in the sites. The island is home to several spectacular, Victorian mansions, known as summer "cottages" that were used by wealthy families in the late 1800s as summer homes away from the midwest. The shore of the lake and the view of the Mackinac Bridge to the west are beautiful. I looked out and saw Arch Rock and horse-drawn carriages, and other romantic couples gazing at each other from atop bikes that slowly meandered around the road.

AFTER -- Our kids have been practicing riding 2-wheelers since last summer in preparation for this bike ride. And they were ready. We set out at 9 am. By 9:05, the whining had ensued. "I'm hot, pedaling's hard, let's take a break." When we got rolling again, there was no stopping them. Gone was the scenery. My eyes were glued to the kid in front of me who weaved back and forth across the road, barely missing on-coming traffic, which was sometimes a carriage pulled by a Clydesdale. DG and I were constantly harping ahead of us, "Slow down! Stay to the right! Watch out for people! Let your sister be in front for a while!"

BEFORE --We visited the quaint downtown area of Mackinac Island and admired the work of local artisans. Mostly paintings of the Grand Hotel or the bridge. We carefully touched whatever we wanted and engaged gallery owners in conversations about the island's charms.

AFTER -- I saw every visit to an art gallery as an exercise in hovering--hovering to make sure the blown glass didn't get knocked over when T2 started practicing her dance moves; hovering to keep T1's grubby little hands from man-handling and smudging; hovering and herding them through the stores, like an Australian Shepherd. I had to decide which tacky piece of Mackinac swag I was willing to pay $18 for--the hard, plastic horse with carmelly velvet glued to its body that T2 promptly christened "Goldie" or the caricature t-shirt that says, "Mackinac Island--Powered by Horse Poop!" "But Mom," T1 says, "It's funny, get it?"

BEFORE -- Mackinac Island is known for its sweet shops, particularly fudge. The fudge from the island is famous, and it's in a million shops all along the main boulevard. We wandered in and out of each one, sampling "exotic" flavors like toffee peanut butter and raspberry dream. We bought a pound, carefully wrapped it up and had a tiny taste each day of the trip.

AFTER -- The candy pushers stand in the front of each shop luring in unsuspecting kids with promises of candy beyond their wildest dreams. The whole of downtown has a wafting odor of chocolate, with a little manure cloying for good measure. The kids had fudge, salt-water taffy and ice cream all in the course of an hour. Then we asked them to calm down and get dressed in their "fancy" clothes for dinner in the Grand Hotel, which requires its guests to dress formally in the lobby after 6 pm. Jackets and ties for the gentleman and dresses for the ladies. Trying to get kids to dress when they're hopped up on sugar is a feat like wrestling tigers--I kid you not!

BEFORE -- Ahh, after the 5-course meal, a long stroll through the lazy town at dusk is exactly what the romance doctor ordered with a tailor made sunset to solidify the deal.

AFTER -- S'MORES!!

So was it different coming back to Mackinac with the kids that we'd dreamed of 10 years before? Absolutely. Traveling with kids is hard. Raising kids is hard. Working is hard. And at the end of the day, I get to have the beautiful vacation, and the home, and the career that I love. I sometimes forget in the whirlwind that is my life to remember how lucky I am that I get to have all of this. It's different, but light years better than what I had before. And I wouldn't change a thing.

My very own Jem and Scout

2010-07-26T07:13:00.000-07:00

For my family, being away from home brings out the worst and the best of us. Tempers are short when sleep gets compromised on progressively longer days as we cram in more and more. Kids tend to bicker more in close quarters. Like a car. For 4 hours.

But the worst of it is brief, forgivable, compared to the best of it. I love being together without the pressure of the laundry pile (oh, believe me, it lurks in the back of my mind waiting to multiply and pounce on me when we arrive home), never-ending tasks at work, and projects for which procrastination is part of the title--like "that bathroom painting project I keep putting off..." I love only needing to be responsible for a couple of meals and documenting my children's joy of being outdoors away from home.

We're staying in Northern Michigan on a lake in a beautiful cabin that my father-in-law built from a tear down. The view is spectacular.

Last night, I watched T1 and T2 gathering acorns, skimming stones, and jumping off the dock. I had a vision of the two of them making up games and stories--summertime yarns that are the only things that occupy their minds. I keep seeing these dirty-faced ruffians like Jem and Scout from To Kill a Mockingbird (my current summer read). My characters, like the fictional ones, are devoted to each other. They're outside from sun up to sun down. They create imaginary worlds in the forest that provide a dappled backdrop for the most memorable of play.

Like Scout, when they're older, I hope they reflect fondly on this coming of age time in their lives and while they learn about the world around them, they keep some of the innocence that is captivating in a seven-year-old's summer.

My mother, myself?

2010-07-24T06:22:00.000-07:00

I recently returned from taking my family to the Pacific Northwest where my mother and brother both live, having moved from CA in the '80s. I visit as much as I can, either by myself or with the family, but I always am left wanting more of them, as we are so very close, in my regular day-to-day life.

My mother has Multiple Sclerosis and is now in a nursing home, confined to a wheelchair, and needs help with all of her personal and daily tasks. It's hard for me to see my mother this way. She's 76 but seems 86. I feel that she's only getting small bits of my children's childhood. Still, I want her to know how important she is in how I'm raising my own kids. My mom has always been someone I've turned to for advice, to share about my day, and to hear about how her stoic, confident, and resilient individualism has seen her through the death of her own parents (her mother at age 3 and her father at 17), a divorce from my father, a death of her second husband, and this debilitating disease while remaining positive and enthusiastic for life.

I remember my mom as a vibrant, loving homemaker. She was there making the kitchen the hub of our existence. I remember the black ceramic tea cups that held the vinegar mixture that my brother, sister and I used to dye Easter eggs. They would splash water colored webs on the newspaper covered table. I remember the same table at Christmas when we would bake cookies and the table would be filled with sugar-sparkled newspaper. She was providing these environments and then she was gone, like a ghost. I think now that she was probably off doing laundry or making beds or somehow doing the mom things that needed to be done. She'd check back in and see where we were in our activity, but I don't remember her judging or commenting, although she must have.

My brother, sister and me--see the black cups?

My older brother, me, my younger sister

She would take meat out of the freezer, leave it sweating on the counter, quiz us on what she might serve for dessert with initials, like "tonight we're having 'CH'" (stood for cream horns, pastry filled with cream.) She looked happy all the time--but I know she wasn't. That was the gift she gave us. She allowed us to be kids by keeping her emotions to herself allowing us the freedom of whatever stresses may have been bothering her. She let our lives evolve while we grew into the people that she was hoping we'd be.


That swollen eye isn't from my brother--I had a sty--she made me pose anyway

Sometimes I feel like I fall short in that part about letting my children grow into the people they're going to be. My mother didn't deconstruct every parenting book on the market trying to find a philosophy that would be the panacea for all her fears. She took us to church, sent us to a good school, put us on "restriction, missy" when discipline was needed, and then got out of the way. I wish I could build upon her wisdom as I go through this journey, assured that I'm doing the right thing.

But she's aging rapidly now. This is one of the drawbacks of having children older--everyone in their lives is older. The MS has affected my mom in ways beyond her physical limitations. A recent MRI and CAT scan reveal advancement of the disease. My mom's mind is softening, not nearly as sharp as it used to be. She repeats her small bits of conversation over and over, for she has little stimulating to say because her life is so routine. "Did I tell you that your niece left for London today," she'll say, 3 times in a conversation. It's the biggest news to reach her room in days. I just say, "Yes, you did. Do you think she'll have a good time?" trying not to draw attention to her repetitiveness. I still see that woman with the apron and the jokes in the kitchen, raising a brood of silly squirmers, the woman who still listens intently to my every word and makes me feel loved.

Someday, I'll be like her, and my kids will be like me--only much younger than me. Will they be frustrated with me and ache to have me back the way I was in their childhood? I know that the times I share with them now are their memories in the making. When we go hiking, they're seeing me active, athletic. When I go on every ride at Disneyland (some they won't even go on), I'm to them what my mom was to me. Even when I'm too old to do these things anymore, they'll remember fondly, the way I do when I reminisce with my mom.

Wonder of Wonders --Miracles of Miracles

2010-07-15T18:28:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday, I met an old friend for brunch. She recently had a baby (her second after a 19-year gap--long but good story for another day). He's so cuddly, sticky, drooly, chunky, gotta squeeze his cheeks! I was enthralled with this baby, and so is she. I love how she appreciates the time she has with him, and she's over the moon about his every move. It was like I was transported back to the days when the twins were little babies and I could not get enough of their cooing, emerging personalites. T2 used to bounce in that vibrating bouncy seat for hours--long after she was too big for it; T1 had a perpetual third eye in the middle of his forehead when he turned 1 from crashing into the couch edge in an overzealous effort to run. I was nostalgic for my babies and the time when discoveries were happening in every hour of the day. I loved watching them change and grow daily.

As they've grown, I've learned that changes happen at differently at every developmental stage. Sometimes these changes are monumental -- wiping their own bottoms! --buckling their own seat belts! Sometimes they are colossal challenges. And each time I think I've got this mommy thing figured out, it changes again.

And sometimes, they surprise me with a wonderful change that I could not have seen coming even if it was a freight train heading right toward me. Remember this I posted about 2 weeks ago?

Here's how it looked when I got home from brunch on Sunday afternoon.

All on his own, unprompted, T1 CLEANED his own room! He organized the items on the desk. (notice the ordered bowling pins? My dad's league bowling trophies in chronological order) Yes, people, he even threw some things away. My little man is growing up, and oh, how I hope this desire for neatness sticks, even if it's just every once in a while.

Not to be outdone, and because she cannot ever resist any competition, T2 cleaned her own room too. Witness the before and after:

Before

After

I entered their rooms with my eyes closed when they wanted to show me what they'd done. Proud smiles emblazoned across their faces. This was something they did without me or my husband asking or nagging. It was something they did not wait for us to take care of for them. And wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles, they found ~~buried~~ new things to play with. And the world opened up anew, magically, just as when they, as babies, discovered they could crawl to the brightly colored toy across the room.

I'll take this magic any time they want to cast a spell my way.

"She said what?!?!" -- Confessions of a Mom-Gossip

2010-07-01T11:10:00.000-07:00

Many of my friends and I became mothers around the same time. Most of my closest friends these days are those who I met when my kids were babies. It's funny because I seem to be looking, constantly searching for camaraderie, from people who share my experience or who have been through the same experience so that I can learn from them. But I'm learning a valuable lesson from this searching. No one shares your exact same experience, and while other mothers will have struggles with the same issues I struggle with, I can't base my actions or opinions on what others' actions are. I must make my own way.

I say this because I've been thinking a lot about how moms tend to be in competition with each other over the best way to nurture, feed, educate, and even diaper their children (see the discussion over at Mommywords.) One mom feeds her children only nutritious food with nary a sugary snack in sight and only organic fruits and vegetables; another mom attachment-parents her baby while another is Ferber-ing and night weaning; in the last 2 decades, the classic SAHM vs. working mom debate has reached mammoth proportions; public school, private school, home school; television or not. It's constant--everywhere--especially in the blogosphere.

I have found myself caught up in this gossip mill sometimes. I've said, "I would NEVER...." and "I can't believe she...." I've searched like-minded individuals who have shared my opinions and unknowingly, under the guise of making more sense and resolve out of my own decisions, have bashed unsuspecting mothers whose choices are different from mine. I've made comments based on my beliefs without thinking about how others might feel criticized. This behavior has weighed very heavy on my mind lately. I feel so badly about my past gossipy tendencies, and I am making a change.

My daughter has very strong opinions and never hesitates to voice them as she sees fit. I practice reflecting her feelings back to her, in a very neutral way, so that she knows she's been heard and acknowledged. However, I almost always follow that reflective listening with a "but...." and then spew forth my own opinion and rationalization or belief that is meant to get her to think beyond her feelings and see my point of view. Eliminating the "but..." is part of my new change in relating to other moms. I don't think it's productive to echo a mom's feelings about how she's coping with some new dramatic change in her child's behavior/health/education and then negate it all with a "but....here's what I think...."

I'm not saying that I don't want to hear how others are coping and even get suggestions, like I mentioned above. I want to know what you've done that works for you. Maybe it would work for me too. What I'm making a conscious effort to do now is see everyone's path for what it's worth. We all want the same basic thing--to help our children grow into strong, independent, confident beings who navigate the social waters like experienced sailors using all the tools taught to them by the experienced sailors before them. It's my job to be the example I want them to follow. I can't very well teach my twins how to treat others the way they want to be treated if I'm engaging in clandestine character assassination. I need to be done judging.

In "Bad Mother" Aleyet Waldman discusses how she saw her first "bad mother" on a train--a woman who pulled her daughter's hair as she was putting it into a ponytail. She relays how she was mortified at how this woman could do such a thing, in public, no less. She says we moms are constantly trying to live up to some unrealistic expectation and when we see others who fail to meet that expectation, we judge them. I've judged and been judged, and I really want to let that drama go from my life. Waldman says the definition of a reasonable good mother is, "one who loves her kids and does her level best not to damage them in any permanent way. A good mother doesn't let herself be overcome by guilt when she screws up."

This is my goal for today--I'm gonna try not to screw it up, but if I do, I'm gonna cry to you, who will lift me up, and I won't feel guilty about it.

How could they/I ? let it get this way?

2010-06-29T20:17:00.000-07:00

I am thinking that I need to call the producers of "Hoarders." Intervention and Operation "Purge-A-Room" will be underway soon. Stay tuned......

How My Family Changed My Mind--the Camping Version

2010-06-22T09:02:00.000-07:00

I'm not exactly the out-doorsy, camping type, and when DG took T1 to the Cub Scout Jamboree last October, I was happily obliged to stay home with T2. Not that I don't like being outside in nature, but it's kind of a lot of work. I once asked my sister-in-law (a Pacific Northwest, Washingtonian who followed my brother's mountain-man sensibility and left CA when their kids were little) what she does when camping (they go like 12 times a year) and she said, "You know, you set up the camp, prepare the meals, keep the campsite neat, hang out by the fire." Sounds like housework, not unlike what I do already everyday at home. And it's C-O-L-D! Sleeping outside when it drops below 70 degrees is not my idea of fun.

Nevertheless, I agreed to go on the end-of-the-year Cub Scout camping trip to Joshua Tree. The desert. Warm at night (otherwise know as ninth-level-of-hell during the day). And I loved it.

California's June gloom makes for a very mild desert June. It was around 80 to 90 most of the time, with a warm breeze that embraced the campsite and made everything look crystal clear. Rocks and plants crisply outlined against the blue, cloud-dotted sky. Beautiful.

T2 "meditating" against the desert sky

We hiked, cooked food in foil pack in the hot coals, listened to birds and little plant dwelling critters, watched lizards dart back and forth across the scalding desert floor, stared at the night sky, toasted marshmallows, and ate s'mores.

Now I understand why my brother loves it so much. City kids like mine need exposure to nature. They need room to run, a place where they can be loud. When we're able to take the time to just be with each other, without some outside obligation, cell phone service, or TV. It was magical. See as evidenced by the faces above.

So more camping may be in my future. Hard ground and cold, sleepless nights aside, I owe it to them, to us, to make memories of their childhood with experiences they may want to pass down to their own families. How can I argue with these faces?

We drove home dirty and tired. I asked the twins how they liked it. "It was AWESOME!" they yelled, as "awesome" is the most descriptive word 7-year-olds know. But it was--awesome.

Notes from Battlefield Playground--Head Games in First Grade?

2010-06-16T06:44:00.000-07:00

For the past several weeks, it appears to be spreading like a virus. Or I think it is. It seems that everywhere I go, I hear moms lamenting the same problem.

"She came home crying."

"They just ignored her."

"She made faces at them because they teased her, and they went to the teacher and SHE got in trouble."

My daughter, 7 1/2 years old, is in the middle of a love/hate battle with her BFF. And she's not the only one. Yesterday at Starbucks, I overheard a group of 4 moms complaining about how mean girls are to each other, how they love each other one minute and give the silent treatment the next. One of my closest friends has a strong-willed daughter like mine, who's in the same struggle. My sister wrote a song about it. It's universal. We've all watched "Mean Girls" and, if you're old enough to remember, "Heathers."

I know this happens because I was a young girl once too. When I was in junior high, my two best friends and I worked out a gymnastics routine to perform in the school talent show. I loved being part of it. They were much better that me, but I was included--and therefore, loved. One day, I showed up to practice, and they said I was out. They were going to make their own routine. "But I can learn it," I say. "No, you can't.," they say, "This one doesn't have you in it." Instantly, unloved. But this was junior high, not first grade.

My daughter is kind of feeling unloved now in the end of first grade. The "hate" part of the love/hate war has lately manifested itself with physical ramifications. BFF pulls T2's ponytail. T2 hits her with a knotted up sweater. Other girls in the BFF posse tell the teacher. T2 is marched off to the principal's office and told not to play with BFF. Cut to next day when T2 separates from BFF on the playground. The other girls skip off with BFF. T2 is left to play by herself--a kind of imposed ostracization. She clandestinely moves close to the others. They tease her, say she's running too slow, or not supposed to play with them, or blah, blah, blah. Whatever it is, it sets off T2 again.

I internalize all of this because I can't help but feel that it's my fault. I put her in after school care. I'm only able to talk to her about navigating girlfriend relationships for 15 minutes at bed time. Is that enough? I gave her a talisman. An ID bracelet from my childhood. (I don't know, maybe I should have thought about the fact that in 1975 ID bracelets may have been made with lead.....but that's a worry for another day.)

I say, "When you're feeling left out, look at the bracelet. See my name, my birthdate; think of that phone number and address on that bracelet as home. It's a little bit of home with you all the time. Think of me, and know that you are loved, even when I'm not there."

I can't be on that playground. I have to send her off to the psychological battlefield alone. Here at home, the family can arm her with love, confidence, mutual respect. But that's all we can do. I hold my breath as she lets go of my hand and goes to join the line of other kids before school starts. How will BFF react to her this morning? Will it set her up for a good day, or not? I exhale when the two friends embrace. But who knows. It could change with the wind. At bedtime tonight, I'll hug her and smother her with kisses. The home front is sweet.

Summer's A-Comin'

2010-05-27T21:41:00.000-07:00

I love summer in Southern California. It's hot, dry--perfect for lounging by the pool.

And since we are so lucky to have a pool, this is where I plan to be sitting for the next 12 weeks. Kids LOVE swimming. Whole afternoons can go by in the pool, resulting in water-logged, sun-tired kids. Bedtime is a bit breezier when they're exhausted. But a mom's gotta watch those kids every afternoon as they create underwater worlds of mermaids, diving contests of Olympic proportions, and splashy, fishy games. So what am I going to do? Read.

There is pretty much nothing I love more when I'm off in the summer than reading. It brings back memories of my childhood when I curled up in a massive chair and devoured animal books like One Hundred and One Dalmatians, Bambi, and Where the Red Fern Grows.

So in the spirit of summer, here is my reading list for this year:

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee (because it's the 50th anniversary)

Honolulu by Alan Brennert (because reading about Hawaii of the past will be a great escape from the present)

I Feel Bad About My Neck by Nora Ephron (because I'm an older mom--enough said--except that I think Nora Ephron is tremendously funny)

The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion (because Joan Didion is so smart, and this memoir of the year she lost her husband promises to be a brilliant look at love and grief)

Prodigal Summer by Barbara Kingsolver (because it's a beautifully written, sexy look at nature and all the sensuousness that summer can spark)

The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch (because my husband gave me this book 2 Christmases ago, and I haven't been able to bring myself to read it. I think it's time to appreciate its beauty)

Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See (because I think Lisa See is a fantastic, contemporary writer, and my niece says this is one of her favorite books)

What's on your reading list this summer? I love comments. Let me know what you're reading, and maybe I'll get inspired to add a few more to my list.

Happy Summer!

Day Care -- Is It Risky? Stop the Guilt Already

2010-05-14T07:01:00.000-07:00

Just when I was thinking I was okay in the balance of working and child care, this study comes out in the Los Angeles Times this morning.

A comprehensive study of behavior of children who were in a day care setting as toddlers reveals that they are more likely to engage in risky behavior as teens. Great. Just what us moms who work outside the home need. And while the data and findings are marginal--there is only a slight rise in risky behavior in teens who spent a lot of hours in day care and those who mostly spent their toddlerdom at home--this feeds my paranoia and adds more worry to my already exploding head that is constantly spinning with blather like, "am I spending enough time with them?" "Are they learning bad habits after school?" "Will they learn the social skills necessary to fit in in school while still learning academically?"

See how this works? The study was about day care centers and toddlers, not school-age children. But does that stop my worry? No way.

I have a tremendously flexible job, one that allows me long breaks in the year with time to spend with the children, yet I focus on the 3 days a week, 2 hours a day, 9 months a year that they're outside school and my care.

"Whatever" to this study I say. My favorite quote in the article (you gotta love journalists who cover all sides of a story) comes from Ellen Galinsky, author of "Mind in the Making" and president of the Families and Work Institute in New York, "Risk-taking, thinking creatively, taking on a challenge, trying something new -- all these aspects of impulsiveness and risk-taking can be a positive thing." She this may be helpful to tomorrow's workforce.

If my kids' experiences at their marvelous Child Development Center taught them anything, I hope it's that it's okay to allow lots of people to take care of them and teach them different perspectives of the world. Go ahead, jump in and take a risk. Just don't ask me to stop beating myself up about it.

Beautiful Boy

2010-05-06T12:22:00.000-07:00

I go into this same Starbucks almost everyday on my way to work. I swear to God; every time I go in there John Lennon's song Beautiful Boy is playing. And every time, I get choked up. I shed tiny tears thinking about my own beautiful boy (and my girl too) waltzing off to school while I drive 21 miles down the LA freeways to my job. I have a brief moment of remembering them--their faces flashing across my mind as I hurry to get my espresso and be on my way. And I, like many mothers who work outside the home, swallow any guilt that might come up, reassuring myself that they are fine, I am fine, and we'll be together soon.

But more than that, I think about Sean Lennon. He was 5 when he lost his father. John Lennon said when promoting the album Double Fantasy that he loved being a "house husband." He loved being with his child. And to have it all taken away after only 5 years is heartbreaking. As I listen to the song, I can feel his hopes for his son--the boy's life playing like a film in his imagination.

"I can hardly wait,
To see you to come of age,
But I guess we'll both,
Just have to be patient,
Yes it's a long way to go....."

He never got that chance. But I do.

This morning as I was leaving the house for work, I was running really late. I threw all my stuff in the car and yelled back at the house, "BYE..." Then I went back inside. I hugged and kissed my kids. I told DG I loved him. My family is the apex of my happiness, and I don't want to miss a moment of letting them know it.

On Your Mark, Get Set, Go!!!!!

2010-04-29T07:29:00.000-07:00

Competition brings out the best and the worst in some people. In kids, it's a little glimpse into how they're going to relate to others when they grow up. Case in point--The All City Track Meet. Here are the kids at the beginning of the cacophonous, frenetic, team-spirited event.

All smiles--Whoop-de-doo! Happy as can be. Ready to take on their events, run fast, pass batons, have fun. Here they are at the end of the event.

After all the ribbons had been presented. After they LOST their events. What? you say, but they've got ribbons. What gives? Yes, they were in relay races against 2 other teams. All the relay team members got ribbons. T2 didn't even run. She was the alternate.

But the individual events is where I really got to see my twins' sensibilities, and in the individual events is where the teachable moment lies.

When T1 didn't win, he said, "Oh well, at least I got a medal for the relay. It was fun."

"Good for you!" I said. That's right, you did your best and you had fun. Let's go home and have a cool drink and celebrate your maturity.

T2 cried. Sobbed. Said she was robbed. The other girls cheated. Little Miss Competitive. She was more than a little disappointed. And seriously unwilling to take responsibility for the outcome. The blaming is where I thought to act. How can I ease that feeling of pain that comes when you have an expectation that doesn't pan out? I know that feeling. I'm holding back tears too watching her process this sad emotion that inevitably comes as children learn about the ya-win-some-ya-lose-some lessons of the world.

"Did you do your best?" I asked.

"Yes," she sighs, "but my back still hurts from the bruise." (Long story of a mishap with some stone steps.)

"You know what?" I ask, "you're right. That must be still smarting you. And not placing makes it feel worse. For next year, we can practice. I've got a stop watch....."

Her eyes light up. "Right!" she says. I can see the brain going. "Let's run everyday. You can time me and see if I can do it faster."

A-ha. Will she grow and begin to see that she is the only one who can mold the outcome of her life? Did I do the right thing? (If you ascribe to Carol Dweck's Mindset, then yes, I guess). For how long will hugs ease the sting of losing?

Forever, I hope.

Let's Pretend.......Words Heard from the Playdate

2010-04-18T09:51:00.000-07:00

Having twins and working outside the home, for me, means that I very rarely schedule playdates for my kids. Why would I? They are the same age. They have similar interests. They play well together. Playdates are complicated, what with the driving them here or there, or coordinating drop off and pick up times. And what's more, I only really get to spend extended periods of time with my kids on the weekends, do I really want them gone for 2,3,4 hours?

The answer is it's not up to me. I'm beginning to learn that it is better for my kids' development and their imaginations to play with other kids their age--and the same gender.

Yesterday, I scheduled playdates for both kids. Each one had a friend over. These were looooong playdates. The first kid arrived at 7:45 am and the last kid left at 5 pm. I made 17 grilled cheese sandwiches and cut 100 strawberries. Okay, well not really, but it seemed like it. Their imaginary play just evolved from each corner of the house.

I decided to spy, stealthily from place to place observing, like a social scientist scrutinizing subjects in contrived habitats. You wouldn't believe what I heard.

"Let's pretend we were best friends, and we're fairies."

"No, we're jazz cats, and we have to come to this island every once in a while, and people take care of us."

"Wait, we're tiger cubs and you have to tame us."

"Let's pretend we're putting on a show and I'm the only one who can do this special move."

"Let's pretend we have to have a battle and we have to jump off this couch into those cushions to see who wins."

"And we're magic and we have to use wands to make spells."

The boys had created an elaborate game that resembled skeeball and involved what boys like best--throwing things. They threw Mighty Beanz up the skateboard ramp and into the playhouse, assigning different points for each window or door the toy went through. DG said the game should really be called, "Where's My Mighty Bean" because that was all they said over and over as they looked for the chucked toys.

The girls set up a spa in my bathroom. There, all my nail polish bottles were strewn around the bathroom floor and they were painting each other's ~~fingertips~~ nails. It was hard to get a word in edgewise as they cheeped like baby chicks and squealed their approval of each other's looks. I intervened and served as manicurist for a couple of minutes.

The boys made a battlefield of the couch cushions. The girls were a dozen different characters in a multitude of made up stories from fairies to princesses to dancing divas.

I discovered in my scientific observation that boys are different than girls. Ha. Who knew. And all this time I was treating my twins as just kids. I was encouraged by their gender-specific play. Both kids were able to spend time imagining a world where they could just be who they wanted to be. There was no looming school work, no scheduled activity, no birthday party, no parents' errands that needed to drag them away from the sheer joy of being a seven-year-old boy or girl. Maybe more of these playdates are a good idea.

Homework: The Great Divider of Families

2010-04-13T23:26:00.000-07:00

My son hates homework. He's like a puppy distracted by a shiny thing whenever he sits down to do it. No sooner has he finished one math problem that he's out of the chair, sharpening his pencil, looking at the notebook paper curling at the edges--anything to take him away from the homework. He pretty much always finishes the assigned work, but it's grueling to keep him focused long enough to do what other kids can do in 10 minutes. It can take 45 minutes to write five sentences.

And again, like I've mentioned in this blog, I blame myself for this dilemma because I am simply not there. I'm not there when he does his homework at the after-school program where the kids are crammed around tables with everyone talking, moving around, and being distracted in their own ways. I'm not there when the teacher gives out the homework and says, "You can do the packet but not this one page," which my son insists she says on a regular basis. When I try to help him, it's usually at the end of the day; he's tired, and so am I, and I am worried about getting dinner cooked. We both end up fried.

I am an educator. I have students who don't have a lick of study skills. I swore when my kids started school that I was going to know exactly what to do to make sure their love of learning was nurtured and molded in the best pedagogical way. I had fantasies of sitting around the dining room table, the kids helping each other with their work and me sitting there grading my students' papers. This is not what is happening, and I feel like I'm losing control, and that his love of learning is slipping away every. single. day. It disheartens me.

I have a friend who is a huge believer in the current movement that argues against the value of homework for elementary school kids at all. I read an article on Slate.com that reviewed 3 books on the subject. I am beginning to see the point. The struggle to help kids as they mire through pages of inane worksheets that practice the same math sums and subtractions in a myriad of ways is mind numbing. It makes that time that we spend together laborious, contentious, and sad. One article I read said, "If the homework is such that the child procrastinates, resists, surface-skims, and does sloppy work so he can get done, be advised that those are precisely the study habits being learned."

Indeed.

My children's elementary school rolled out a new homework policy that limits homework to only 10 minutes per grade level per night. No take home projects for long weekends. They say this is to preserve quality of life for families. I know what I have to do to have a better quality of life with my family. I have to be present to give them meaningful experiences that include teachable moments throughout their day. I have to inspire them to think critically and to explore learning because it's something they want to do to discover the world around them and to find their place in it. I have to let go my fear that what is happening now, in first grade, is any indication of how he will be for his entire academic career.

I have to believe in the hope that someday, I'll watch him pouring over some book or he'll come to me with a hypothesis he wants to research. I have to have that hope.

Oh, the Pressure!

2010-04-06T22:17:00.000-07:00

Don't you hate it when you have a million blog post ideas in your head, and instead of drafting or writing, you just think about them everyday, and when evening comes, and you think you want to write one, you're so burned out after doing the dishes and making the lunches and cleaning the fish tank that clever, witty posts elude you?

I know I sure hate that.

Who's this game for anyway, them or me?

2010-03-16T21:40:00.000-07:00

Ah the first signs of spring--the sun peeking through the clouds, the warm weather returning (before you laugh, we did have a coooooold winter by So Cal standards, but don't judge me), and Opening Day--little league for whole stinkin' town. Pretty much everyone with kids in this small town joins little league when their kids are five, maybe even before, if they can. We opted to stay out of little league last year. T1 seemed way to squirrelly to focus on a game where he would need to stand in a field and pay attention to something going on about a mile away. No, we chose to start this year.

When I went to sign up my very excited son, I learned that they had leagues for girls too. T2 and T1 would both be part of this community wide event. And I mean event. Last year, when we tried to get kids over to play on Saturdays in spring, no can do. Baseball game, sorry. Maybe next time. We were not going to miss it this year. They put them both on the same team. How convenient, I thought. This makes me so glad. No having to cart them to different practices and games that overlap. Super.

So we show up on Opening Day and we see all of T1's cub scout troop are together on the Cubs (we're the Angels). Then the rest of the first grade boys are on the Giants. All the girls are on other teams for 7- and 8- year-olds who have been playing for 2 years. When I ask them how they all turned up on teams with kids they know, they say, "Oh, we requested it. These kids all played together last year." Our team has really little 6-year-olds and a couple of 5-year-olds. None of whom we know. And none of whom played last year.

Here's the thing: I am finding myself hugely bothered by this. Why didn't anyone tell me I could choose a team? Why didn't I put them in last year so they could be with their friends? Won't they be angry when they have to play against all of their friends? I guess my own insecurities come out. I envision myself sitting in the stands, with moms I know, watching and cheering on our little darlings. When we play the Cubs, I will see the moms I know in the other set of bleachers. I might feel sorry for myself that I didn't get to be on that team. But it's not about me, is it? My kids aren't bothered that they didn't play last year. They don't care that kids they know are on other teams. They are not bothered by this at all. They are loving getting to know all their new teammates. And they love their coach. Who's baseball for anyway, them or me?

T1 with his team

T2 checkin' her mit

Up at bat

On deck

I look at their smiling faces here, and I realize that little league is not about me being able to create a community of friends. It's not about me feeling left out of the other team. It's about them, learning to have fun in a sport that is about teamwork. They're up to the task. Maybe my maturity level needs to come up a bit. And to think of it. I thought they were too young.....

Oh well, at least I got to go out to a fancy dinner afterward and order this:

Lobster salad from Crustacean

............................................

Fast forward to the next day's laundry. Whose pants are whose?

It's gonna be a long season.....

Discipline -- Part 3, The Harried Working Mom Version

2010-03-06T17:55:00.000-08:00

I am always so amazed when rifts spring up between T1 and T2. How could this possibly be happening? I was so blissfully trying to do my job in snippets after the after-school follies of ~~candy eating~~ snack time and ~~written torture~~ homework. They were playing. It was pleasant with the trilling of happy child-voices engaged in the throes of childhood. And then...the Grabber pisses off the Shrieker. Oh well, bliss over. Time to get involved. Or is it? Maybe, but in a calculated way.

DG and I have followed this parenting program for five years, since the twins were 2 and wouldn't stay in their beds, with great success. The philosophy is pretty simple: give children a routine, make clear expectations, descriptively praise steps in the direction of cooperation, and reflect their feelings. Following the techniques really does result in a calmer, easier, and happier home life. But it takes effort and energy--both rare commodities for a working mom. I find myself slipping into habits of letting the kids go off on their own with no intervention from me until something erupts and then rushing in to solve whatever the problem is. I accuse, raise my voice, try to "get to the bottom of this!" which usually results with more grabbing and shrieking as well as whining, crying, and screaming. I love the harmonious sound of children trying to "one up" each other, don't you?

I've re-doubled my efforts of late, trying to bring the bliss back. This morning T1 disrupted an Easter display that T2 had created. She had left it alone thinking that it would remain untouched. He came along, not knowing this part of her thinking, and took it apart. She yelled as she is wont to do. He ignored her as per his M.O. But DG and I came in and calmly reflected her feelings of being upset. She cried some more about how long it took her to make it and how she'll never be able to do it again.....and then it was over. In. about. 2. minutes. That's all. If I had tried to get her to stop crying, it would still be going on now. They re-played the scene again, this time doing it correctly: she politely asked him to leave her display alone. He said okay, and he asked me for something similar to play with. Joy, and off they went. DG and I secretly high-fiving each other behind their backs.

The lesson is that even though it seems so grueling to take time away from the busy day-to-day to actually parent my children, I know that this is what I ultimately want--confident, self-reliant, cooperative children who I enjoy being with.

How to take a picture of your family

2010-02-11T19:12:00.000-08:00

Get the family together on a bench.

Make sure everyone stays put.

Ensure everyone is looking at the camera.

Sometimes you have to change locations.

Be sure to injure husband in the process.

Make sure your background focal point is actually in the frame.

Make kids hold still.

Make sure EVERYONE is smiling.

There now, wasn't that easy?