potty powerless

Geekyboy has discovered irony. He must have done, or why else would he have peed on the couch while watching "Potty Power"?

I was warned that potty training little boys could be hard. I had been under the impression that Geekygirl had been quite difficult to train in this respect, and that I was now an expert in these matters, but I now take all my complaints back. If you ever think you know anything about kids, just have another one. This will set you straight and remind you that children are individuals, damn them, and they can't be reared to any kind of formula. When it comes to potty training, Geekyboy has proved to be  recalcitrant.

He can recognize California, Texas, Nevada, Pennsylvania, Maryland and Maine on a map of the USA (he and I are about on par with our recognition of the states. The squareish states in the middle of the union all look the same to me.) He can spell his name and count to twenty. He does still think one and one make eleven, so we have some work to do there, but he is clearly a bright boy.

He doesn't understand his own body though. He can sit on the potty for twenty minutes, and three or four stories (which makes it just about impossible for me to get in to work at 8.00am these days), with nary a trickle produced. Three minutes later we will find him standing in a lake of pee. "Make it come out Mummy" he shouts with frustration while sitting on the loo. 

I had an escape from this madness with my annual trip to the American Diabetes Association scientific sessions last week. This year it was in San Diego which is one of my favourite conference locations. A short hop from home, but with much  warmer weather. I broke out my summer dresses and strappy sandals, guzzled cocktails with abandon (not during the conference sessions, I hasten to add) and probably to the bemusement of my co workers I was as giddy as if I was on a tropical vacation. A full time working mum has to get her kicks where she can find them.

This was my first business trip with my newly acquired Kindle. The only downside of traveling with an electronic instead of a paper book is that it has to be turned off during take of and landing, leaving me itching for any kind of reading material. Browsing that catalog of the bizarre that is United Airlines "Sky mall" magazine. I came across this.

 I am not sure whether to be encouraged or depressed that people can potty train cats more easily than I can potty train a three and a half year old.

On returning from my trip (I'm not sure who is more delighted to see me when I get back from these trips, the kids, the dog or my husband) a victory had been reached. Geekyboy's patient and ingenious preschool teachers devised a strategy. They sit him on the toilet with his feet in a bowl of warm water, and simultaneously give him a cup of water to drink. A full week of this ritual and he seems to have got the hang of actually peeing on the loo.

He still doesn't seem to recognize when he needs to go, so we need to be vigilant, and as for pooping, lets just say we won't be getting rid of the diaper pail any time soon. Any other potty advice very much welcomed, wise blogosphere (and of course wise family members!)

old lady

Geekyboy has taken to calling me "grandma". "I'm pretending you're my grandma" he tells me, then proceeds to yell "Grandma" across the playground.

Our choice to live here in San Francisco means that the kids don't get to see either of their actual grandparents very often. Perhaps the poor child is grandparent deprived.  His obsession with the TV show "Max and Ruby", in which the grandma (a bunny) is a featured character and the champion of the little boy bunny Max may also have something do do with it.

Whatever the reason, I'm getting a bit pissed off! I have seen a few heads turn, probably wondering, since he is calling me "Grandma", if I was a teen mother when I gave birth to his mother or father. Well I hope that's what they are wondering, maybe I look plenty old enough to be his grandma. After all, it is biologically possible and there are forty year old grandmothers aplenty.

Insult is being added to injury by my new "Kindle".  I have the version that is super cheap because it displays advertising when you are not reading on it. It keeps showing me adverts for anti aging face potions.  Maybe this just reflects the target market of a generic Kindle reading demographic, but I'm taking it personally. And wondering if I should invest in some. The sands of time seem to be catching up with me.

Three

Geekyboy turned three on Friday.

My little baby has irrevocably turned into a little boy.

You are such a personality. Everything you say is delivered with a comic head tilt or dramatic gesture. Your range of expression, both in your vocabulary and your mannerisms are so mature now, and so funny.  I see the spark of a comic actor in you, you love to see a reaction to everything you say and do.

You are exploring language with more sophistication every day. Asked which pajamas you would like to wear, you rejected your 'monkey pirates' ones as "too piratey". Inventing your own adjectives at three is an impressive feat, and the pride with which you delivered this pronouncement, knowing quite well it would amuse me, was just delightful.You delight me every day.

You are still so untainted by the world and its expectations. You like nothing better than to wear a dress and some pink high heels. "Today I am going to be a girl" you declare. Or sometimes "Mummy, today I'm a boy in a dress".

You are my cuddler. Your hugs are increasingly being delivered battering ram style, but despite your now advanced age, you still love to be kissed and smooched. In times gone by I would probably have been accused of babying you and turning you into a mama's boy. I'm so relieved that we live in times where I can adore you openly rather than withholding my affection for fear of doing you some kind of mysterious psychic damage.

Three can be a tempestuous age.  I see your fierce temper and stubbornness getting stronger along with your study legs. Yet you still have a sweet compliance running like a seam of gold through your personality. "NO!" you will declare, when asked to wash your hands or clean your teeth "But you have to get the germs off" I reason, and most of the time you will tilt your head, reconsider and sigh "Ok, then".

You are growing up and away every day. I was reminded just this weekend that tiny boys grow too fast; the father of one of Geekygirl's classmates was playing with you, and remarked on your sweetness, remembering the days when his boy, now five, was as small and cuddly.

I hope your sweet nature carries into your adult personality. I worry about how hard it must be to transition from being a little boy to being man, with all the responsibilities and lack of support that can come with adulthood. I think adult men sometimes get a rough deal, they carry a large weight of expectation as they grow up; to be providers, to shoulder burdens and not to show weakness. I know that you are going to be a wonderful man, funny, kind and very handsome. For now though, I'm going to enjoy every moment of your being three.

Happy Birthday Geekyboy

Snow, Sand and Bounce Houses: Reflections on a year

Every year I make a photo book family album. Given that we spend most of our leisure time up in Tahoe, this years offering showed beaming children posed in the snow, frolicking in the sand and water, then back to snow again. The new camera that I got last year for Christmas has given me the chance to stretch my photographic skills, and I was really quite delighted with how the book turned out. Browsing through it you would be forgiven for thinking that our year consisted entirely of joyful snow play, sunny beaches, mountain hikes and a surprising number of bounce house parties.

The continuous mode on our digital cameras allows us to select only the perfect moments and discard the rest. For every cute picture of a child on a sled there were probably three or four thirty minute tantrums getting the snow suits on. For every gleeful splashing beach picture, an afternoon punctuated by children throwing sand in each others eyes.

The sheer effort of getting out of the house to create these magical moments is missing from the finished glossy product. The blood curdling screams of protest at putting on sunscreen, the almost perfect days marred by a forgotten glove, diaper, snack or change of clothes, the miles hiked with a howling child in a backpack that situates that child's mouth far too close to a parents ears. those moments don't make it into the album. Only I know that a split second before or after that perfect shot, the seemingly angelic child was hurling rocks or smearing snot on my jeans.

Writing this, I was reminded of the graph shown by Rufus Griscom and Alisa Volkman in their TED talk about parenting. As you can see, being the parents of a young child coincides with some of the lowest overall reported periods of happiness in a persons life. The flip side of this is that the peaks and lows are more extreme. My photo album only shows the peaks. Those peaks are real and beautiful, and since the children seem to remember the high points more than the lows, it is my challenge as a mum to find that zen, and live in those moments.

2010 has been a good year with many of those high points. The children are growing and learning. They are strong and healthy. We have work and health and love, and are very fortunate.

It is interesting to have the blog to go back to and reflect upon how our lives are slowly moving along.

Geekygirl, though still emotionally demanding, is so much more mature now at almost five. We haven't had a night like this for a very long time. She and I took a trip to visit my family in England, just the two of us, and had a wonderful experience. Geekyboy is a little boy now, not the baby. His toddler years have had a few of the expected challenges, but he is emerging into a sweet and funny little boy. The children's room reflects that we are now the parents of big kids, not babies.

This year I managed to get the kids to the dentist for the first time, thus alleviating a huge burden of motherly guilt that had been following me around. We made some new friends. I got a new job.  The terminal exhaustion of the baby and toddler years now subsiding into a more manageable motherly malaise left me with just enough energy or insanity to take on a new challenge, career wise. Just when I really needed to be impressing my new bosses, and didn't need to be taking a lot of time off, we got nits . We had visits from both sets of Grandparents, and we got the whole family dressed up for halloween . It was also the year that I and one of my dearest friends turned forty.

I took blogging to another level, and met up with some cyber friends, fellow Brits in the USA; (iota, Nicola, expatmum, nappyvalleymum, and Califlorna) in Chicago on a chilly winter weekend filled with stories and warm spirited chatter

2011 is going to be a big year for us. Geekygirl will go to Kindergarten. The whole Geekyfamily is going to visit family and friends in England and Denmark in July. I'm going to get my first mammogram, and perhaps not coincidentally, my first tattoo. And that's just what is planned. Who knows what else will be thrown at us this year? We're bracing ourselves for another wild ride.

Life is like sledding. You only think you're in control.

the sugar plum fairy

The Nutcracker Ballet is an American Christmas tradition, one that was started by the San Francisco Ballet in 1944. In a combined fit of "getting into the holiday spirit"  and "we must take advantage of living in the city" I bought tickets when they first went on sale back in October. With the production looming, I checked the website for the time and location, not only discovered that the production is staged at the very lovely "War Memorial Opera House" and not at the Ballet itself, which saved me a panic attack on arriving at the wrong location, but I also noted the statement "Any child, who can quietly sit in their own seat and happily observe a two-hour performance without questions or talking, is welcome at San Francisco Ballet. To ensure an enjoyable and relaxed experience for everyone, SF Ballet recommends that children be at least 5 years-old to attend Nutcracker"

Since Geekygirl and Geekyboy are almost five and almost three, respectively I felt a knot of anxiety forming. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. I took the kids to the playground with a friend to run off some energy on the morning of the performance, but my anxiety was only heightened when my friend informed me that her little girl, also only 4, had been coached by her grandparents to tell the ballet ushers that she was five, since they were under the impression that under fives would be banished from the theatre.

We set off anyway with our underage companions. The children, prepped for several nights now with a lovely story book describing the plot of the ballet, and having enjoyed several evenings of dancing round the living room to the music, looked adorable and were full of anticipation. Geekydaddy and I also dressed for the occasion, and it felt so lovely to be all gussied up, in the glossy crowd of excited children and parents. There were plenty of under fives, so we didn't need to teach the children to fib. Of course, as seems to be the case in almost any major city, the fanciest theaters are steps away from the sketchiest neighbourhoods. We were faced with  puddles of human urine in the alley where we parked the car, and smiled shamefacedly at homeless people as we walked up the guilded steps. Ah San Francisco, city of contrasts.

The performance was magical. I'm glad we had read the storybook, mind you, as I'm not a ballet buff myself, so it helped me to understand what was going on. Geekygirl, ever the authority once she has even a scrap of knowledge on a subject, kindly, confidently and maybe a tad too loudly, explained to me what was happening. Geekyboy, kneeling on his plush seat was enraptured by the music and the dancing. However every five minutes he loudly whispered to me "Mummy. Is that the sugar plum fairy? Mummy. When is the sugar plum fairy coming?". Mindful of the age advice, I tried to keep him quiet out of consideration for the childless folk in the row in front, but when the lights came up for the interval they remarked on how sweet he was and how they used to bring their own, long grown up, kids to see this ballet. People can be so kind.

Here's a clip from the show (I didn't film it)


Still, during the second half Geekyboy wanted to dance along with the performers in the aisles, which I felt was pushing the tolerance of the more mature audience members so Geekydaddy extracted him. Geekydaddy wasn't all that impressed by it. He was reminded of the spoof scene in the movie "top secret", where the female dancer balances on the unfeasably large 'package' of the male in very tight tights! Geekygirl remained entranced though, and watched the entire performance through to its beautiful finale.

Now, every evening when we get home from preschool, Geekyboy wants to be the sugar plum fairy. Here he is in his sisters fairy dress, isn't he precious? I've taken a video too, to preserve these moments for posterity and to show to him when he's a linebacker on the football team. Or the lead in the all male version of swan lake.

Before and After

A belated post for the lovely Gallery

This is how the kids room looked before and after a trip to Ikea last Spring.

When we transitioned Geekygirl  into the side-less crib/toddler bed in the top picture, just before her brother arrived, we did it gently. She had a full month or so of choosing between her familiar crib and the new bed. We, or at least I, was very anxious that she not feel replaced by the new arrival.

She outgrew that little bed she was was four. Geekyboy was two by then, and he had been climbing the crib rails and rattling it from its screws, so we decided it was time to graduate both into proper beds. I love these pictures but they touch my heartstrings. It still seems like just yesterday that we assembled that crib, bought with money generously collected by my coworkers, in anticipation of Geekygirl's arrival. I remember so powerfully just how tiny she and her brother seemed when we first laid them in its soft expanse.

Poor second child that he is, Geekyboy did not get a gentle transition to the world of the big boy bed. His crib was dismantled and the new bed installed within hours of returning from the store. We did try to explain the coming change to him, but I think it came as quite a shock. I will forever remember the look of horror on his little face when he walked into his room as Geekydaddy was in the midst of disassembling , and cried out "My bed. Daddy broke my bed".

Being the stoic little person that he is, he slept soundly thereafter in his new bed, but I still wonder if he was somehow traumatized by the abrupt removal of the only sleeping space he had ever known. To this day he points to the dismantled crib, which since it underwent three or four recalls in the four years we owned it isn't suitable to be handed down to anyone, and is stored in the garage, and says "That's my old bed. Daddy broke it".

two kids walking

I decided this weekend that I have been pushing the kids around in the double stroller for too long. The age gap between them, twenty four months, meant that I needed a double stroller when Geekyboy was little. Geekygirl's reluctance to walk anywhere, combined with my inclination to acquiesce to her requests, and the rather child unfriendly topography of our neighbourhood has ensured that I have continued to push them everywhere, even though they are now not little at all. I had reached the point of driving to places within walking distance, because I was physically incapable of pushing the 70 combined pounds of child for any length of time. Those hills might be tough on a littler person's legs but they are tougher on a mothers gluteus maximus.

So when we decided to take advantage of an unseasonably warm November day and head to the playground I put my foot down. No stroller. We chose the closest and least vertically challenging playground option and got there without complaint, Geekygirl a skipping, sprinting sprite, waiting impatiently at the intersections for her steadily tromping little brother.

Getting home again was more challenging. The kids have become accustomed to riding home after their playground exertions.  Relaxing in the McClaren chariot, eating crackers and drinking milk while their exhausted mother strains to push them home.

They set off in good spirits, climbing little walls and chattering away. We were almost home, and I could see poor Geekyboy was very tired, his eyes glazing over as he stolidly placed one little Croc'ed foot in front of the other. Geekygirl was still full of energy, and as we reached the final stretch, a steep downhill incline, she decided to run. She loves to run pell mell down the hills. I'm always in two minds as to whether to stop her, or let her enjoy it. It must feel a bit like flying to run into gravity like that. Back in my running days and before my knees hit middle age I used to quite enjoy it myself. I'm always in awe of her grace and bravery as she hurtles along, and I figure that the best way to learn one's limits is to push them.

Today she met them, she stumbled and fell. A split second later a howl bellowed out. When I ran to her picked her up, ensuring no serious damage, and intending to carry her the rest of the way, Geekyboy just sat down. I think seeing his sister being carried was just too much for him to bear after he had trudged for so long without complaint. It was one of those sudden moments in motherhood, when a lovely time turns in a split second into a stand off. A missed step over an uneven paving slab and suddenly the world goes wrong. I was left standing with two howling unmovable kids, within sight of our front door.

We got home, of course. Both children pulled themselves together remarkably well, and I remained calm too.  I still think "operation walk on your own two legs" can be called a success. Anyone want a rather heavily used third hand McClaren twin traveller? Fingers crossed our double stroller days are done.

opposite boy

Two and a half year olds. I think I blanked out just how frustrating they can be, but here we are again.

We are deep in toddler tantrum hell at the geeky house. It started a while ago. 
Back then I still thought geekyboy would be a milder child than his firey sister, but now I have changed my mind and fear we are facing an exhausting couple of years. My sweet little baby boy has officially vanished and 'opposite boy' has replaced him.

Given choices (which plate, which crayon?) he chooses to throw them at me. He seems to be operating not on the philosophy of 'believing six impossible things before breakfast" like the white queen, but on earning six time outs before breakfast.

I have been camouflaging my face with my touche eclat every morning this week, since look as if I caught the wrong end of a shank in a prison fight after a run in with his fingernails on the way to the naughty chair.

I know, intellectually, that he is just doing his toddler job of rattling the bars, making sure of the rules and testing us to confirm that his universe is a solid and predictable one. I was hoping that at least one of our kids would turn out to be the placid, rule following type though, and that is not what I see. The future looks challenging. In retrospect, I suppose I shouldn't have married a man who was expelled from Kindergarten if I wanted sweet compliant children.

A bright spot is that much of Geekyboy's oppositional behaviour is conveyed with the spoken word.

"Are you done?" I will say at dinnertime. "No. I FINISHED" he replies.

"Hold the handrail" I suggest as he negotiates the stairs. "No, Its the BANNISTER" he corrects.

I say "street", he wants it to be "Path", I say "sandals", he insists "No, those my Crocs". I point out a dolphin, he tells me it's a porpoise.

At least his attitude is improving his vocabulary, as he needs to know at least two words for everything.

He still makes my heart melt. When I whisper endearments such as "you are my precious boy"  he replies "NO. I your SWEETHEART".

I think my adorable little baby boy is still in there, somewhere. What do you think?

dog in the manger

Geekyboy has developed an annoying habit. He instantly covets a previously uninteresting toy the very minute his sister starts to play with it. At first I assumed from his hysterical howls of "I want that ____ (dinosaur, xylophone, princess Ariel figure) that his sister had taken it from him, and I insisted she return the item. I have come to realize that this was perhaps not usually the case, and I have inadvertently created a monstrous child who now howls the house down to get what he wants.

I'm at a bit of a loss as to the best way to solve these incessant conflicts over resources. My favourite book on the topic (siblings without rivalry) gives the following advice:

1. start by acknowledging the childrens anger towards each other.
2. Listen to each child's side with respect
3. Show appreciaition for the difficulty of the problem
4. Express faith in their ability to work out a mutually agreeable solution
5. Leave the room.

Though this sounds wonderful (has anyone tried this with Israel and Palestine?), I fear that my two year old will get the rough end of any negotaited agreement, given Geekygirls increasingly sophisticated verbal skills, and that my kids are a bit young yet to manage this on their own. I don't want to simply take the offending toy away (though I often do), since that seems unfair on Geekygirl, who had it first. I try offering Geekyboy alternatives (like an indistinguishable, to adult eyes at least, plastic princess or dinosaur) but invariably get it hurled back at me. I end up asking Geekygirl to share, setting the timer for 5 minutes each with the toy. Then the kicker is that when Geekyboy gets the toy he so desperately wanted, he plays with it for sixty seconds then discards it. Until his sister picks it up again and then its rinse and repeat on the whole performance.

As I said to Geekydaddy, it is classic "Dog in the manger" behavior.  Geekydaddy, unfamilar with the term, asked what happened to the dog in the fable, in case it offered any ideas. I googled it and it wasn't very helpful:

A Dog looking out for its afternoon nap jumped into the Manger of an Ox and lay there cozily upon the straw. But soon the Ox, returning from its afternoon work, came up to the Manger and wanted to eat some of the straw. The Dog in a rage, being awakened from its slumber, stood up and barked at the Ox, and whenever it came near attempted to bite it. At last the Ox had to give up the hope of getting at the straw, and went away muttering:
"Ah, people often grudge others what they cannot enjoy themselves."

Indeed. But what I want to know is did the dog get a time out? A sticker chart? Did this teach him mend his ways and develop empathy for the hungry Ox?

A more modern take on the fable sprung to mind while we were driving home from school last week. I have taken to playing hits from the show Glee in the car, and Geekygirl particularly likes Finn's version of "Jessie's Girl". She broke off from her sing along to ask me "But Mummy, why does he want Jessie's girl?". I smiled to myself, and answered "You know how you brother always want the same toys that you have? Well the guy singing the song wants his friend's girlfriend".

I didn't add that it is human nature to want what we can't have, and to covet the belongings and even the girlfriends of others. She can wait for the harsher lessons of life and love. No doubt many more of them will be prompted by the fables of our age, pop song lyrics.

How do you deal with conflicts over resources in your house?

The little changes

Children seem to grow up too slowly and yet too fast at the same time. "When will he be able to feed himself with a spoon?", "when will she be able to wait for thirty seconds for my attention?" I have wondered stuck in a whirling moment, afraid I'll never again have time to draw a deep breath.

Then one day you realize that there has been a paradigm shift in the family, and without your really noticing it the kids have become completely different people.

I had a revelation like this last weekend. A visit from Geekydaddy's parents pulled us out of our weekend rut of groceries, laundry and the occasional playground trip, and saw us shopping at the Apple store, riding the cable cars and eating in restaurants. One of these was even a sushi restaurant that did not offer crayons and a 'colour in' menu. (sushi is a cheap and ubiquitous lunch option here in San Francisco, I feel I must add lest you think we are ridiculously pretentious).

Geekygirl at four has developed a new composure and sense of perspective. She managed a great recovery from accidentally biting her tongue along with her maguro nigiri. A cuddle and a quick mop of tears with a napkin and she went back to her meal, something that would have been unfathomable just a few months ago. Geekyboy, at 27 months is hitting the textbook oppositional stage, but even so managed to sit in his chair for the duration of lunch. We managed some cheery conversation and the kids were delighted with the polite waiters and colourful food. I had to stop and pinch myself, lunch out with the kids was actually an enjoyable experience.

Dealing with tantrums the second time around doesn't seem so hard, either. The force of tiny person anger seems less alien and terrifying now that I have seen first hand that it really is just a normal phase, that will eventually pass. Geekyboy is rather funny when he loses the plot. It is almost as if he has read that textbook on toddler behaviour and is dutifully going about the process, but really, all that drama just isn't his thing, and he can't be bothered putting too much effort into it before returning to his sunny self.

Yesterday though we did have a good meltdown. I offered a choice of mac and cheese or ravioli, out of a box or a can resepctively, and he chose both. I draw the line at serving pasta with a side of pasta, so decided to offer only the ravioli.

That was most emphatically not OK. A cannonball sized mound of playdough was hurled, then the box of kid cookware was upended over the kitchen floor. Geekyboy got a time out.

I'm very impressed by how well he handles his time out, he sits in the imaginary confines of the naughty chair, rattling the back of it and shouting "I break this chair. I no like time out" for a minute, a very impressive use of language to express emotion on such a little lad, I feel. By the time his two minutes are up he is usually back to his chatty self, and tells me one of this weeks facts, a favourite being "mummy, octopus is an ocean animal"

I've developed a new conversational tactic, giving Geekyboy the thrill of being able to correct me, and this time i responded with

" and a cow, that's an ocean animal, right?"

"noooo! A cow is a standing up animal not a swimming animal!" he told me. "a starfish is an ocean animal". After getting through sharks, crabs, whales and dolphins he, fortunately as yet unaware of the vast biodiversity of our seas, declared "that's all the ocean animals", then truly returned to good spirits, he tucked into his ravioli.

Though maybe with this ocean obsession I should have offered sushi again.

Here he is at the restaurant showing off his one chopstick technique

The boys

Its gallery time again.

The theme is: Men. Pictures of the men in your life - dads, sons, uncles, teachers, partners, brothers.

I thought immediately of this snap I took of Geekydaddy and Geekyboy looking quite the stylish young men about town.

Note Geekydaddy's quite brilliantly geeky T shirt!

ye cannae change the laws of physics

Geekyboy has hit the touchy twos. Offered two choices, he wants neither of them. His usual response to any request is 'no'. This can be a challenging stage for an "anything for an easy life" parent like myself. Want to stay in your pajamas all day, paint with your hands, eat playdough, drink bath water or wear your sister's Sleeping Beauty pull ups instead of your own diapers? That is fine by me.

Apparently though, this is when we are supposed to start setting boundaries. Fixed and sturdy ones that do not bend under the will of a toddler. This gives them security, so the experts say. It gives mum and dad a headache too, since we don't seem to have the temperament for calm consistency. I do have some hard and fast rules. For example I will only let my son leave his pajamas on all weekend if they are not soaked in urine. And I don't let him wear his pajamas out of the house either. At least not yet. I was inspired to do so in the future by a family we ran into at a museum this week. The kids, about the same age as mine, were all in their (admittedly very stylish) PJ's. I complimented them on their ingenuity, and their very nice mum, a fellow Brit in fact, shrugged and smiled.

This past weekend though, he ran up against one of the most fundamental and unchangeable rules of all.

Gravity.

We went the morning at the sledding hill, an unplowed section of road beside our cabin. On the first run down Geekyboy was thrilled with the speed and motion. When we slithered to a stop and I turned to pull him back up the hill he broke into hysterics. "No, no up the hill, DOWN the hill, DOWN THE HILL" he ranted. He was so disappointed and frustrated that we had to climb back up again before we could sled down.

There was nothing to do but persevere. And sure enough, he caught on. "Go down hill, go up hill, then go down again!" he chanted, finally figuring it out.

He is such a sweet boy, but this little incident made me realize what we are up against. Toddlers, they want to bend the very fabric of the universe to fit their will. No wonder we find them exhausting.

Here's a little sledding video, (I discovered iMovie), so you can share the thrill of Gravity!


sledding 2010 from geekymummy on Vimeo.

a do over

Bedtime was a little late last night, the consequence of a nice bottle of wine opened and enjoyed during a surprisingly pleasant family dinner. Surprising because eating together as a family when half of that family are small children is a rather hit or miss experience. Geekydaddy and I sipped our wine as we watched the kids play after dinner, eventually deciding that one of us needed to put down the wine and start the bedtime routine while the other cleared up. I took bedtime duty.

Pyjamas on and stories read, I had one final box to check, teeth cleaning. Up here at tahoe I have a selction of kid toothbrushes. Geekygirl had a 'hello kitty' one, then when I bought a 'Dora' one for geekyboy she complained, so I had picked up a Dora and Diego one for her. This Dora and Diego brush has become the favourite. These days I always buy two of everything when possible to avoid conflict (which is why my son has rather more plastic princess toys than your average two year old boy), but I'm stuck with a selection of different, competition inducing toothbrush choices for now.

Geekygirl grabbed the Dora and Diego toothbrush, to wails of protest from Geekyboy, who wanted it too. She didn't want to relinquish it to her brother, though I suggested it would be a kind offer, but I didn't force this issue. He continued to wail and wail after teeth cleaning was over.

We were about to tuck up in bed, Geekyboy, overtired and hysterical, still wailing about the toothbrush.

"Mummy, I want to do it over" Said Geekygirl.

"Why?" I asked

"Because I want Geekyboy to be happy" she replied.

She wanted to clean teeth again, this time letting Geekyboy have the coveted brush.

It was a little lesson in realizing that getting what you want doesn't feel so good when that means someone else is miserable.

How many times in your life have you wanted to take something back, "do over' a conversation when you said something selfish or thoughtless? I know I have, many times. We don't usually get a "do over" in life, but this seemed like a good time for one. So, hygiene be damned, we went back to the bathroom and redid the teeth cleaning scene, this time Geekygirl got to be generous and give her brother the toothbrush of his desire, and everyone went to bed happy.

Two is better than one

No, I haven't turned into a Taylor Swift fan overnight. Though I have been caught singing along to this rather catchy little country ballad, my music taste having deteriorated horribly as I have grown older.

I'm talking about kids, and the advantages of having more than one. I was talking this week with one of the women in my group at work, the mother of a four year old girl. We were pregnant at the same time, and while I have subsequently added Geekyboy to our family, she and her husband are still debating whether or not to have another. My friend is an only child herself, and worries that it will damage the close relationship she cherishes with her daughter to add another baby, and then on the other hand she also worries that she yells too much and is generally not a good enough mum as it is, so why have another. I think many of us have these same qualms.

We also talked about the impact of kids on our careers. Feminist author Linda Hirshman, in her thought provoking book "Get to work", exhorts women to have just one child if they wish not to derail their career ascent, but though I consider myself quite devoted to my own career I still wanted very badly to have two children. Of course many people would love to have more than one and can't, and I'm so grateful that we were in a position even to choose. What I'm getting at in this post is that if there is a decision to be made, I come down firmly on the side of having a second child (or more; if you have the energy, more power to you!)

I think that the weight of becoming a mum bears down on us so much with the first child, and that a second lightens the emotional load.  With Geekygirl I analyzed everything, second guessed myself all the time, read so many books containing so many different opinions that I was always convinced I was doing something wrong.

For example, Geekygirl would often run away from me when I came to pick her up from her daycare, engaging me in a game of chase, making me work to get back into her affections. She was reluctant to be left with her grandparents when they visited, and was generally rather clingy, so having read all the attachment parenting books but not having put much of the philosophy into practice, I worried that my daughter was suffering from some kind of 'attachment disorder' because I sent her to daycare.

On the other had she was a wonderful sleeper, one of those mythical babies who slept through the night from about 8 weeks old (I wonder how many potential mum friends I lost by innocently sharing this information). I secretly thought that this quality was something I had instilled in her by following the strategies in my books of swaddling, nursing and rocking but always putting her down drowsy but awake.

Then I had Geekybaby. Since he first learned to self propel,  using a commando like crawl, he has only ever moved towards me. At the moment when I pick him up, he runs to me, breaking into an excited gallop, calling "muh meee, muh mee" with a joy and enthusiasm that fills my heart. He loves to meet new people, happily crawls onto laps and brings stories to strangers to read. Not a clinger at all.

Sleeping, however was a different story. He didn't sleep though until he was a year old, no matter how many sleep books I imbibed. I"m pretty much the same mum, but he is a completely different kid.

Having two is both humbling; everything you thought you were doing 'right' with the first child is revealed to be perhaps just a chance of their nature, but also reassuring for the same reason; the traits you feared were a result of some defect in your parenting are shown instead to be part of that child's intrinsic personality.

You also get to hear such gems as "Mummy, I wish I had a brother who would listen to me".

Driving Miss Geeky

We have fallen into a little ritual after we get home from work and preschool. I pull into the garage, and as I unload the car of lunchboxes, groceries, laptop, artwork etc, I also unbuckle the kids, giving them the freedom to scramble into the front of the car to play "lets pretend to drive somewhere".

I recall that Geekygirl first developed this passion at around two years of age. It had waned over the past year or so, but Geekyboy, now at exactly that same age, has suddenly become obsessed with the car. I let them play, with the engine turned off all they can really do is flip the wiper switches, mess with the radio and turn on the hazard lights. Only once, back when Geekygirl first became switch flipping crazy, did I commit that dreadful parental crime of letting her lock herself (and the keys) inside the car. Geekyboy was just a few weeks old at the time, and I can still recall the panic that began to rise in me as I tried to talk a two year old through the mechanics of unlocking the doors of the car while a fractious baby's wails began to reach crisis level.

I did eventually coach her through opening the door, remaining calm throughout, and I still believe it is one of my finest moments. I'll probably be tempted to bring it up in future job interviews, so proud I was of getting though this crisis, but perhaps potential employers might not appreciate the finesse involved. Those in the know can appreciate that it was the human relations equivalent of performing a bomb disposal.

These days I'm careful to keep the keys on my person, so all I have to watch out for is being deafened by Spanish radio when I turn on the engine the next day, or of accidentally driving half way to work with my hazard lights flashing.

This evening though, the game caused me to pause for another reason.

Geekygirl jumped into the front passenger seat and said to her brother "You be daddy and drive, I'll sit in Mummy's seat".

Now I drive the kids around a lot, but what she had picked up on was that when we all go out as a family, Geekydaddy almost always takes the drivers seat, and I ride shotgun.

 I was remined of an article I read not so long ago mentioning that in the majority of families Dad always drives the car on family outings. This arrangement sends a subtle message to our kids. The person driving the car is the person in control, and by always having Dad drive maybe we are saying that Dad has more power.

Now we consider ourselves feminists, Geekydaddy and I, but we fall neatly into this stereotype. I started to think about why this was. We got into the habit when we first got together for two very good reasons. Geekydaddy was the only one who had a car, and I didn't even have a drivers license! I didn't actually learn to drive until I was thirty years old, but now I love to handle a car, and I'm pretty good at it too. Still, I do prefer to be a passenger, especially on the long, often wet and snowy drives to Tahoe.

Now that I can see that the kids have internalized a message from our driving habits, a message I don't particularly want us to be sending, I think we should change our habits a little bit.

How does it work in your family?

Milestones

They seem to be coming at me too fast. Geekyboy only just moved to the toddler classroom, gave up his pacifier, and turned two. This weekend he moved from a crib to a big boy bed.

Our kids share a bedroom, Geekygirl sleeps in a converted crib toddler bed that we were given by a neighbour and Geekyboy in a crib, bought with money generously collected by my coworkers  and lovingly assembled in anticipation of Geekygirl's arrival all those years ago. I remember so well standing in that room, transformed from office/dumping ground into office/nursery with the crib, rocking chair and hand made dog print curtains, trying and failing to imagine how it would feel to have our baby. How can that be four years ago?

The room has undergone several smaller transformations, once Geekygirl began to crawl we banished the office furniture to a corner of the basement and created a true kids room. Before Geekyboy arrived we moved Geekygirl to her now too small "big girl bed". On Sunday Geekydaddy took the crib and the toddler bed apart, and the room has entered a new stage.

The change was prompted by Geekyboys hair raising crib escape attempts. It was completely spoiling my rare weekend lie ins (until oh, at least 7.30, before you think I have it easy!). We would lie in bed listening to the kids play in the unbalanced manner you can imagine when one is free and one caged like a wild beast. I would jump up for every thump I heard, in fear of finding Geekyboy crumpled on the floor beside the crib, unable to tolerate his sister's freedom any longer. We also needed to replace an ancient armoire that we use for the kids clothes whose door keeps coming off. Several times I have called impatiently to Geekygirl, wondering why she hasn't appeared for breakfast, only to find her holding up the dangling closet door, afraid to move in case it collapsed on top of her. So this weekend we braved IKEA.

Geekydaddy, being Danish, grew up with their sleek, simple Scandanavian-ness, so it is our default for cheap furniture. The Bay Area was blessed with its first IKEA about five years ago. It is conveniently located in Emeryville, a hair raising five lane merge off the first exit after the Bay Bridge. We were so afraid of the crowds that we arrived half an hour before the place opened, so ended up having both breakfast and lunch in the restaurant, probably the prettiest Swedish fast food joint in the world with its view of the bay and both bridges. It was while taking a photo of this view with my phone  that I noticed Geekyboy was choking on a meatball. He has a very sweet habit pf patting himself on the back if he starts to choke. Cute at home, but in public I felt like a neglectful, ditsy poorly prioritzed mum, though I did reach him before a concerned fellow parent did.

Still, we managed to come home with two fancy new kids beds, and a new shelf unit to replace the booby trapped armoire. I consider getting in and out of that store and coming home with exactly what we needed, no missing parts or screws, no children crushed in the warehouse and no accidentally broken merchandise to pay for an incredible feat, harder to pull off than almost anything we do at work. OK, so we got lost in the nest of concrete freeways feeding the Bay Bridge on the way home, drifting though a supremely sketchy part of West Oakland down by the docks looking up at the overpasses and thinking "how do we get back up there?", but we finally found our way back to San Francisco. We are a force to be reckoned with!

Taking down the crib was bittersweet. It seems such a short time ago that building the crib beckoned in a new stage in our lives, and now it is gone for good. "Daddy broke my bed" Geekyboy keeps on saying, a little disoriented by the change,

But both kids love the new beds, Geekyboy is especially excited by the independence of getting up in the morning by himself, and Geekygirl is delighted that the bigger bed allows the cats to sleep with her.  I don't know what they impregnate those mattresses with, but both kids have slept right through the night every since we put the beds up.

Two

Geekyboy, my littlest one, turned two on Thursday. When I started this blog he was still Geekybaby, just six months old, and I was struggling with sleep. Now he is a little boy, my independent but yet adoring, sturdy but yet sensitive child.

Geekyboy was born on president's day. He was ten long days late, due on the 8th and born on the 18th. Having had such a great experience giving birth to Geekygirl almost exactly two years earlier, I really didn't want my labour to be induced the second time around. But his due date passed by, and though he mercifully did not arrive on Geekygirl's birthday, the days continued to tick by, contractions starting and stopping but labor never kicking off. I started to panic. I was huge and uncomfortable and at one point I thought I would be pregnant forever. Desperate to do something other than wait, I tried accupunture. The accupuncturist lived at the top of a huge flight of concrete stairs, the kind that replace sidewalks on some of our steeper streets. After the needle treatment she had me walk up and down them several times. Either the rebalance of my Chi, or the stair walking did the trick. Two days later Geekyboy finally decided that he was ready to face the world.

It is a good job that it was a holiday, and Geekydaddy was home, because he may not have got back from work in time to meet his son otherwise. Labor started around 1.30pm, after a nice spicy enchilada lunch, my water broke at 3.30, at which point we headed for the hospital. Deeply in labor when I arrived they didn't bother to triage me or even examine me. One of the best rooms was open, the one with the panoramic view, and they lead me straight there. UCSF is very progressive when it comes to hospital policy, They respected my decline of an IV, they welcomed our doula, and even though my water had broken they were happy for me to use the jacuzzi tub.  It is a shame that watching the sun paint the sky over the San Francisco bay can't be prescribed as a pain management technique during labor, because that is what worked for me that day. I rocked in the chair looking out over the bay and by the time the sky had deepened to the velvety purple blue that preceeds sundown, and the Alcatraz lighthouse beacon had started to sweep the bay, I moved from the rocker to the birthing stool, and ten minutes later at 6.20pm our baby boy was here, born into my arms. Like most San Franciscans, almost every day while running one errand or another I catch a glimpse of "the view" while driving or walking down one hill or another. For me it is a daily reminder of that exhilarating, empowering day, a day so very worth waiting for, the day our little boy arrived.

It hardly seems possible that two years have past since then. Now instead of that little baby I have a boy, a boy who loves to laugh and thinks that his mother fashioning herself a playdough nose is just about the funniest thing in the world. A boy who nurtures his stuffed animals and adores his big sister, his cats and his dog. He moved classrooms at daycare to "toddlers", the two to three year old class, and is so proud of his new responsibilities. When I pick him up he shows me where he washes his hands, where he stores his lunchbox and how he cleans up after his art projects.

Our center transitions the kids gently from the unstructured, high staff ratio infant suite to the more preschool like toddler room, gradually building up the time they spend there. This gentle transition wasn't gentle enough for Geekygirl, she found it very hard to move, but Geekyboy was frustrated by the pace. Whenever they would take him back to the baby classroom he would cry, "No, No, other classroom", and now finally ensconsed in his new environment full time he is very happy. He has always been ready for the next stage of growing up before I have. He quit nursing at a year, though I was hoping he would want to keep it up, rejected sippy cups for the regular kind before I was ready to see him looking so competent, and astonishes me with his language and grasp of abstract concepts; "Mummy i drop spoon behind me" he said last week.

Maybe that is the destiny of the youngest child, always struggling to grow up while mum tries to hold on to each childhood stage for longer than is possible.

Two is such a lovely age, but there are so many changes that happen so fast, espcially with language and emotional development. He has just figured out that "Love" is better than "like" and when asked for example "Geekyboy do you like pasta?" he will reply "No, I LOOOVE pasta!" So shamelessly I ask him daily "Geekyboy do you like mummy?" just so I can hear "No, I LOOOVE mummy!" He also loves penguins, Dora and Diego, his stuffed bunny and his friend Kesiah, but that's OK, I'll take the love where I can get it!

Happy birthday to my little boy, who completes our family so perfectly. My treasure.

Here he is, young man in the city.

the book that saved my children's smile

or "How I stopped procrastinating and got my kids to the dentist".

Like many busy parents I have a constant, never ending, ever expanding 'to do list'. I make notes and lists, on paper and on electronic devices, but like a lot of us, I suspect, I spend my life with a constant fearful buzz in my ear "did you bring your drycleaning? remember show and tell?, make a dentist appointment, buy dog food, order diapers, put the trash out, pay the dog walker, are you right now supposed to be at a critical appointment that you forgot to note down....."

So when I glimpsed this book that Geekydaddy bought himself, and saw its subtitle "The art of stress free productivity" I was intrigued. From the world I was standing in "Stress free" and "productive" were completely contradictory. I am productive, but in order to be so it seems I have to also be stressed. Unstresssed would mean not having anything pressing to do, and given that that almost never happens, my default mood was stressed!

I'm not usually one for self help type of books. Or books about filing systems. But that is basically what this book is. It may have actually changed my life just a tiny bit. The premise of the book rests upon the concept that we all run around with our heads too full of stuff; minutae, apointments, ideas, half finished thoughts. We need to get everything out of our heads and into a system. Most of us start with a  "to do list" but what we put on these lists tends to be amorphous, not easily turned into a specific next action, so things linger, in our minds and on our lists, stressing us out because we don't get them done. My dentist issue is a classic case.

I've had "Make dental appointment" kicking about in my head, and even on my to do lists for over a year. But since I hadn't identified a dentist and I I needed to verify my insurance would cover the one I chose the task never got done. After reading the book I implemented the system. I won't go into it all here but will say that Mr Allen advises you to keep four lists: "projects" for anything that takes more than one step, "someday maybe" for things you don't actually need to do anything about except keep track of, "Waiting for", things your waiting for someone else to deliver on, and "Action items", which must be an actual thing you can do. So with "Kids to dentist" on my project list, and "call friend A to get her kids dentists name" as the first task for that project on the action list, I initiated the process and lo and behold a month or so later the appointment day rolled around!

Now the system isn't flawless. I failed to consider the logistics of one parent taking both kids (aged almost 4 and almost 2) for a first dental visit. I confess that as a Mum who works during the week and who tends to do outings with Geekydaddy and the kids on the weekend, I am not all that adept at the art of handling both my kids in unfamiliar situations on my own. I do it sometimes, but feel barely in control of the situation, in fact I lost Geekygirl for five horrendous minutes at the aquarium once when I was responsible for the two of them. I'm very impressed when I see mums with two or more little ones in tow out grocery shopping or at the zoo, and realize that I'm not really all that good at this "Mum" thing!

Fortunately Geekydaddy was able to come along too, so we embarked upon 'family outing to the dentist'. I filled out their new patient forms, mailed to me in advance. There was a section about your childs personality and how you thought they might handle their dental exam. "Labels like "High strung, defiant, scared, shy" jumped out at me as I thought of Geekygirl, and I felt disloyal to my adorable, sweet, precious though often defiant, shy and high strung girl as I circled these words next to her name, then circled "Friendly" and "Average kid" next to Geekyboy's.

The next flaw in my plan was revealed as we arived at the office, having allowed the required thirty minutes circling time to find parking in San Francisco, ten minutes early for the appointment I had noted down as being at 10.00am. The appointment was, however, actually for 10.50, so we had to pull the kids out of the treasure trove of a waiting room; TV, toys, games galore, and head off to Starbucks for chocolate milk and cake (just what you need before the dentists!).

The actual visit went wonderfully. The nurse and the dentist were both fantastic with the kids, explaining carefully how they painted the teeth with dye to show the plaque, and using a picture chart menu for them to pick their toothpaste flavor for the cleaning. I was a little ashamed at how much dye stuck to their teeth, but there was no admonishment from the dentist or her nurse. We were chided for allowing both kids, especially almost four year old Geekygirl, to use pacifiers still. I'm embarrassed myself, but she loves it so, I haven't been able to take it from her. We're now steeling ourselves for the arrival of the pacifier fairy to take them away once and for all.

Geekyirl handled the whole thing incredibly well, she was polite and compliant and oh so proud of herself when it was done. I wished I hadn't checked so many of her less lovely traits on the form, as none of them were on display that day. Geekyboy was less sure of the teeth cleaning. But between tears and wails he kept saying "Yummy cookies!", so I guess he liked the cookie dough flavor toothpaste, if not the process of cleaning itself.

To top it off, the dentists had a tiny dog, a chihuahua/yorkie mix clad in  a pink leopard print jacket and pink pony tail, that was just like an animated toy.  I'm not usually a small dog person, but this one was adorable; gentle, soft and very friendly. I was almost converted and Geekygirl was completely smitten, and has now started badgering me for a tiny dog of her own. Our dog is too big, apparently, and doesn't like to wear accessories in her hair. We got a family picture with the dog, and then a dig through the treasure box for a present. I was surprised that instead of picking a princess crown or purse, Geekygirl picked a fierce looking snapping dinosaur-head-on-a-stick. I think after getting through this intimidating new experience she needed something fearsome to remind her of her bravery.

We'd better take it with us when we go to the Doctor's next week.

If you live in SF and need a pediatric dentist, I highly recommend Dr Bergen James and her practice.

Lemon tree, very pretty..

and the fruit of the poor lemon makes a wonderful toy.

We have a lovely old lemon tree in our backyard. It languished for many years, squeaking out an existence on the stray water that leaked from our garden plumbing, but when we landscaped our tiny city oasis last year it was honored with a good pruning, some fertilizer and its own sprinkler, and it is now gratefully delivering fruit.

The bay area is chillier than usual for this time of year, but still warm enough to go out to play, in my English opinion. This weekend I hustled the antsy kids out to play in the dilute afternoon sun.

Geekydaddy got me a lovely new camera for Christmas (a Canon SX20IS), so I was experimenting with it, trying to capture the crisp loveliness of my favorite plants (not too tricky), and those elusive moments when a fleeting facial expression on one of my tiny ones takes my breath away (harder!).

Geekygirl noticed the lemons, and asked to pick some. The lemons were first tested for flight potential, and for use in soccer. Then they became puppies. Then mermaids. Thus began almost two hours of "imaginary play with lemons" I'll let my pictures tell the rest of the story.

The lemons

Lemon as ballistic object

Lemon as evil pirate who must be ejected from the ship/play structure

Lemon as fearsome monster (Geekygirl has elicited genuine fear from Geekyboy, I think)

Ultimately the lemon was required  to take a time out.

Remind me again why I buy them toys?!

anti water baby

Geekyboy used to be a true water baby. He didn't object to his bathtub even in the earliest days, and as he grew older he positively delighted in the water. One of his earliest phrases was "water 'plash 'plash",  and whenever we walk back from one of our local hilltop parks, he sees the bay in the distance and says "Ocean, water, splash!" He would play happily in any body of water. Including on one occasion in a puddle of dog urine, though that is perhaps left unmentioned.

But last week he developed a sudden fear of the bath. I know this is the classic age for fears to set in (Geekyboy is 22 months old at the moment), so it was bound to be something, but I was surprised at the swift about turn in his attitude to water. In retrospect I think I started it. Last week he had a mild tummy bug. I noticed the ominous note at daycare "Your child may have been exposed to viral gastroenteritis", and the massive washing of toys that the poor teachers had to do on top of their usual tasks. Sure enough, when I went to check on the kids before going to bed one night last week, I found my sweet boy face down in a mess of regurgitated hot dogs and cheese chunks. He must have been sick in his sleep, always a scary prospect, but after a flash of fear, I could see he was breathing deeply and seemed not to notice the smell and mess he was lying in. I noted while cleaning up that he doesn't seem to chew his food, as it looked much like it had on his plate at dinner time!

I had to wake the poor boy, and plunge him into the tub to shower him off. It being almost midnight, and hosing down vomitty kids not being one of my favourite tasks, I was maybe not as gentle as I could have been. After that abrupt and soggy awakening his water fear arose. Geekydaddy bathed him the next night, and made the mistake of turning on the handheld shower to make extra bubbles. Thinking he was going to be sprayed down again, a slippery, soapy geekyboy leapt from the tub like a greased piglet, Geekydaddy just grabbed him in time, he almost fell headfirst from the tub onto the tiled floor. I had no idea he was even able to get out of the tub of his own volition, but I guess fear is a powerful motivator.

 The next evening I announced as I usually do "five minutes until tubtime", and Geekyboy, instead of coming to help me turn the taps on and add the bubbles, stood stock still with the saddest, most scared look on his little face. Geekyboy has wonderfully expressive features, and his downturned mouth is almost comical in its cartoonlike depiction of sadness. "NO Tub. Tub 'cary". he announced. I tried to placate him but he was emphatic in his denial.

When the tub was ready I called the kids again, and Geekyboy slunk in, like a lamb to the slaughter, face the picture of misery. I have started to realize, that unlike his sister who is the very definition of oppositional, Geekboy likes to oblige us. I was touched that even though his every bone was crying out not to be put in that tub, he did as he was asked. "Ready tub", he said, in a sad resigned tone I would not have thought that a child of his young age was capable of, steeling himself for the inevitable. I popped him in gently, where he knelt, holding on to the side, rigid with fear, and gave him a quick lick and polish, then pulled him out into his fluffy towel. His sister, avoiding the potential for a screaming tub companion, decided to wait until he was out before taking her own bath.

By the end of a week of this I needed to enlist her help. Bathtime, after all, used to be one of the most fun parts of the evening. Also, while the kids splash and play, I read the editorials in the New York Times while simultaneously singing songs about ducks and frogs and bubbles, and I had missed out on all the past weeks news analysis. I asked Geekygirl to join her brother. She distracted him by giving him bubbly epaulets and blowing them off his shoulders. She helped him bath his duckies, and made bubble soup for them both to eat. And lo and behold Geekyboy started to get into it. Soon he was splashing, playing and eating bubbles just like he used to! I think our bout of hydrophobia has passed. At least until I have to wash his hair again!