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

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".

Olive

Sunday was the big birthday party. The weather was mercifully fine, the bouncer set up in the backyard, the cakes ordered from our local bakery (since I can't do fancy frosting), cupcakes baked (because I can at least bake), goody bags packed, and most importantly guests had RSVP'd and were expected at 3.00pm prompt.

We had a long list of groceries to be purchased, the house to be tidied up, and the usual panic of arranging food, filling coolers with sodas, bringing out the attractive toys and hiding the ones the dog has chewed, stretching ahead of us. Geekydaddy headed out to get the groceries, and I took the kids to the playground after picking up the cakes. I figured that the best way to be ready on time was to be sure they took a nice long nap, so I felt that a morning playground outing was a good use of time, despite the task list.

At the playground I struck up a conversation with a handsome, unshaven, very tired looking dad who was wearing a tiny baby in a fleece pouch, and supervising a three year old girl. He mentioned that they had a child who came in between the two he had with him; three kids all 16 months apart, and an eight year old too. We chatted about schools, the labrythine lottery system used to assign kids to public schools being an incessant topic of conversation here in the city. He mentioned that his oldest was in a pretty public good elementary school. Siblings get preference in the assignment system, but the age gap between his son and the little girl was big enough that they wouldn't overlap, negating the sibling advantange.

Then he said something that I wasn't expecting. He told me that they had had another daughter, in between the ages of this girl and his son, but that she had died. I didn't know what to say. I expressed how terribly sorry I was. I asked if she had been sick, and he told me no, she had suffered an accident, then said no more.

It sounds so selfish, but I didn't want to hear the story of how his daughter died. Not on this beautiful day, the day I would soon be celebrating the birthdays of my healthy, perfect son and daughter.

We chatted about my kids a little, but I was still thinking about what he had said. He had wanted to talk about her, and I wasn't able to listen. So I asked what her name was, and he told me. "Olive, she was called Olive".

I have a memory of meeting a mum and a toddler girl named Olive, back when Geekygirl was tiny. It isn't a common name, so maybe that was her. I looked around the playground at all the happy children, including mine, so beautiful, so strong and suddenly I was hit with a sense of the fragility of life.

I said goodbye to the dad, and we shook hands and exchanged names. I hope I meet him again when I'm more prepared to listen.

Then I went back home and stepped into party prep mode. It was a great party. Geekygirl was so thrilled to have her friends visit her house, it was worth the extra effort involved in having it at home. Geekyboy bounced for hours, and he was delighted that he got to have a cake too (Where my cake? Where my candoo?"), having been quite grumpy when his sister got candles on a cupcake the previous day, her actual birthday. But all afternoon, as I photographed the exhilarated kids, trying to capture the pleasure in their faces and freeze these tiny moments in time, I kept thinking of Olive, who didn't get to have enough birthdays.

opposition

Thanks so much for all the supportive comments and ideas.

We were back on an upswing in Geekygirls behavior when the seminar rolled around, The urgency for guidance had faded, and our babysitter was unavailable, but we asked our neighbor to sit in exchange for future favors, and decided to go anyway. I'm glad we did. First, the very fact that the small room was packed to the gills with parents at their wits end helped us to feel better about our own troubles. Then the lecture got underway, and as other parents chimed in with comments, queries, tearful pleas and terrifying tales we began to realize that many parents were in a far worse place than we were. Not that I take pleasure from others distress (though there were some quite amusing horror stories; entertaining to listeners at least), but it was nice to have our own situation put in perspective.

What we learned was that some kids are "oppositional learners". This means that when presented with almost anything you tell them they will automatically treat it with skepticism. They are not content with simply being told what to do, how something works, or how they should behave. If offered two choices they will negotiate for a third. They will poke and probe until they come to their own understanding. They test every theory they are confronted with until they are sure it is watertight. Then they accept, and move onto testing the next thing. We were reassured that there is nothing wrong with this, it is simply the nature of some children, indeed some people.

Hmm, sounds rather like a how good scientist behaves! Geekygirl is a study an contrariness. Tell her, as Geekdaddy did when asked the other day, that Minnie is the girl mouse and Mickey is the boy one, she will argue until she is blue that it is the other way around (despite the evidence of the pink spotty bow and high heels, and I'm pretty sure this is not just due to her San Francisco upbringing).

We learned that kids who trend toward this temperament need consistency and boundaries even more than other kids, since they are naturally inclined to push and push and push until the boundaries fall or they are sure that they will hold. And if the boundaries do fall, they find more places to push, and then get unhappier and more wild in the process, since their world is unable to give them the security that they really need. We also learned that kids need to be different from their parents, that it is part of forming their own identity, so we need to give the lots of opportunity to make their own choices, and sometimes to challenge us and win.

I brought up our problem of Geekygirl screaming through time out, and was given the revelatory idea that she maybe could scream all she wanted. That by giving her permission to scream it would take the power of it away. That some preschoolers just need to scream sometimes. They talked about how easy it is to get dragged into escalation of consequences. Time out is given, then on the way to time out the parent gets kicked (or called poo poo head), so the consequence is escalated until the parent and child are caught in a battle of wills and eventually the kid ends up being grounded for life at the age of four. There were a lot of nodding heads in the room as they described this, and they gave the excellent advice to just deal with the consequence of the first transgression. That what was important was holding the original line, "If you call me a poo poo head, then you get a time out". That way when your little opposer pokes away at the boundaries, she finds the rules holding firm. It was interesting that though they gave examples of consequences, such various forms of time out; in the bedroom, a corner, a chair,, taking toys away, not earning a reward or sticker, the emphasis was on picking a set of rules and consequences for your family and being consistent about it, rather than worrying about the details.

We also learned that kids in the preschool years really struggle to control their emotions, and that doing so is part of the developmental process of these years. And that by controlling our own emotions too tightly we fail to give them the cues they need to manage their feelings. Telling your kid to "use your words to tell me you are angry" doesn't help a kid who rarely sees a parent get angry. "What does she know, she has no idea how I feel" they might think. So getting angry is good, stomp, shout a bit, show your feelings so your kids learn how to do it too, we were taught. And do this before you throw a complete wobbly. WE often try to stay calm as parents, succumbing in the end to rage. It is better to acknowledge ones feelings as they occur, apparently! It sounds awfully unBritish, but it made a lot of sense to me.

We talked a lot about empathy. Reflecting back our children's feelings both during and after the event. That as parents for many of us the instinct is to think "thank goodness that's over" after a particularly horrendous tantrum, and never go near it again, when instead talking about it later helps kids to learn from an experience, and think about the feelings that overwhelmed them in a calmer, reflective way; "Wow, you were really angry when I told you you had to wear either the pink dress or the blue shirt and pants for school photo day. And Mummy was really mad because you hit her and called her a poo poo head while she was wrestling the adorable dress over your wailing head".

We came away from the class feeling much happier, a realization that our little girl will likely be quite a challenging kid to parent at times, and that there is nothing wrong with her being that way. We felt we had a strategy to implement, simply reinforcing more of what we do already. We also felt very much more on the same page, I was so glad that geekydaddy came with me, rather than just us trying to implement selective stuff I communicate to him from the books that I read we were able to discuss together what we had learned and feel as if we are both engaged in it. I was also secretly quite proud that he was one of only three men in the room of about 30 women.

I decided for starters that I am tired of being called poo poo head, and that from now onwards, that would be a "time outable" offence.
With my newly critcal eyes, I noticed in so many small ways how successfully Geekygirl has been controlling her world:

At dinner I asked, giving choices as I always do "do you want orange juice, chocolate milk, plain milk or water with your dinner?" Geekygirl replies "I want apple juice please". Normally, without a thought, I would have given her the apple juice, grateful for the 'please' (Clearly, based on the other choices, I'm not opposed to sugary drinks!). But I had begun to realize that almost every time I offered her a choice, she negotiated something else. I had let it slide, because my emphasis was on giving her choices. Something, I realized, that had lead to her almost never spontaneously being confronted with the word "no". "Oh, apple juice isn't one of the choices I offered, I said, and repeated the offerings. "Poo poo head" she countered. I have a kid who calls me 'poo poo head' when I offer her chocolate milk?! I thought. This most definitely wasn't about what she, chocolate milk lover extraordinaire, actually wanted to drink. It was all about getting her own way.

Time out was performed, (this being about the fifth time out of the day, the screaming was well out of her system), Geekygirl returned to the table, drank her chocolate milk and calm was resumed for at least the fifteen minutes it took to eat our salmon and pasta. I didn't rescind the offer of chocolate milk, though I felt like it. I just stuck to the rule. This post is long already, so I won't bore you with the rest of the evening's time outs. Just to say the "don't call mum and dad poo poo head rule" was tested very thoroughly, and was found to be unbreakable.

Geekygirl is trying to come up with new insults to hurl when she feels angry. I'm encouraging her to think of them, so far she has a satisfying "angry noise", and the petulant "I DON"T love you". When the issue is around a food item, no more cookies, no chocolate milk for breakfast, things in that vein, she has come up with the unintentionally poignant "OK then, I won't grow. Do you want me to stay small forever?!"

In case you think this was an awful day, I thought I'd finish the post with this lovely picture that Geekygirl and I made today (I cut out the clothing items from foam, she stuck them on and drew the picture). It was actually a nice day, on balance, just about a week long, in emotional terms. I think any art therapist would agree that this is the work of a happy child. Though if you look at her "writing", you can distinctly make out the word "Poos" on the top of the drawing! Chance? I sure hope so!

Defiance

We had a challenging week. One small child shouldn't be able to cast such a pall on a household, but these past few days Geekygirl has had us vacillating between fuming with anger and falling into self doubting despair. Though I feel badly about highlighting Geekygirl's difficult behaviour back to back with swooning over Geekyboy's adorableness just a couple of posts ago, such is life with an eighteen month old and a three and half hear old. Geekygirl has her many, many moments of adorableness too, of course, but recently we have noticed her behaviour slipping, probably because our standards have slipped too. Exacerbated by a recent nasty cough and cold, and the associated indulgences of staying home and watching TV, and eating breakfast on Mummy's lap, a tiny demon seems to have possessed our oldest child.

Things came to a head this week, when, tired of our morning routine being disrupted by the new breakfast on lap habit, which leads to milk and cereal on my pants, a delay in getting out of the door since I am effectively disabled until she has finished eating three bowls of cereal, and to teeth marks on my knees from Geekyboys protest at his sisters preferential treatment, I finally vetoed "lap breakfast".

Geekygirl is not at her best in the mornings anyway, and this cruelty caused an unbelievable howling and caterwalling, thrown breakfast, a scratched brother, and a tirade of the worst three year old expletives, of which her father bore the brunt (poo poo head being a favourite, unfortunately echoed with great clarity now by her brother at inopportune moments).

Discipline in our house for large trangressions is the "naughty chair" for time out, or the forfeit of a favourite toy. I'm not a big fan of time out though, since I'm not convinced, philosophically , of its value, especially to kids who don't get enough of their mothers time in the first place. Quiet is required on the naughty chair, but when a category four tantrum has ensued, it can take ten minutes to get to quietness for the three minute time out, and time is precious in the mornings, so I tend to avoid using it in time sensitive situations. She has rather too many nice toys for the forfeit to be particularly effective, so I'm searching for an additional strategy.

This particular morning we decided that following through with discipline was more important than being late for work, and she eventually managed her time out, then had to return to finish the thrown breakfast, was still not dressed at way past leaving time and was then unable to choose an outfit, so I bundled her, screaming into the nearest dress, pushed on her shoes and carried her, wailing, down the stairs to be deposited in the car seat in Geekydaddy's car. Of course this was a morning that our neighbour was leaving at the same time, so I gave a wry smile in response to his "tough morning" and got in my own car leaving Geekydaddy to deal with the rest of the day's routine. Our neighbours have a boy the same age as Geekybaby, and have just announced the expectation of his sibling, so at least the noises from our house have not deterred them from further adventures in parenthood!

This week the tiniest things have led to breakdown point. A dress put on backwards? Try to help, I get railed at with tiny pounding fists, don't help and I have a naked child who won't get dressed. Answer "no" to letting her wear her ballet shoes to school? Tell she needs to get in her bath now, or in ten minutes, or that she must not drink her milk with her spoon? All hell breaks loose. We do give the kids lots of simple choices when we can, with the intention that sometimes they will then just do as they are asked, but this week that was apparently an impossibilty. Black is white and up is down in Geekygirl's world. I offer cuddles, she pushes me away, I leave and she wails for me to return. I know that this is the crux of growing up, separating from your parents, but also wanting them close, but when in the fray I find my resolve and confidence wavering. I'm beginning to understand Geekydaddy's warnings that he was kicked out of preschool for behavioural isuses, and any offspring of his would likely be difficult to raise.

I worry that with working parents the children don't get enough of us, (though I have heard rumor that parents who stay home do also have challenging times.) I feel guilty that I just want to come home to pleasant sweet, compliant kids who say please and thankyou, and always do as they are asked without challenging every word, (anyone know where they sell kids like this?!). The preschool teachers, saints in human form, are unphased by her behaviour and navigate the storms with quiet skill, reassuring us that this is part of growing up, and is quite usual behaviour for ids at this age. I'm just hoping that eventually this strong mindedness will pay off, when she refuses to get into cars with drunk drivers as a teen, founds a green energy company and solves global warming before her 25th birthday or doggedly uncovers a new law of nature against all prevailing opinions and wins a Nobel prize.

I'm a big reader of parenting books (my favourites are "hold onto your kids", "How to talk so kids will listen" and "the secret of happy children"), and have my own hodge podge parenting philospophy of helping my kids become self determining by giving them choices, giving specific feedback rather than vague praise, using sticker reward charts, and setting rules and being consistent. Something I reminded myself of this week was that kids do need to push against the boundaries and it is our job to keep the boundaries there. That noise and tantrums are going to happen if the boundaries are to hold. I don't like tantrums and conflict, and go to great lengths to ensure my kids are preemptively snacked before outings, and that they get their naps and enough sleep. I feel as if I'm failing somehow when faced with tears and resistance, when perhaps actually, thinking with a cooler head, I am actually succeeding. I reminded myself this week that kids don't actually want the rules to change, even though they want in that moment to have cookies for dinner and wear their princess costumes to school.

A case study from my own experience is that I had got into the habit of letting geekygirl watch "you tube" disney songs on my computer most evenings, against my own preference for limited TV watching, "giving in" depending on my level of tiredness and the persistence of her whining. Concerned about so much screen time, I was then was constantly battling with her to get it turned off. I made a new rule, videos only on Tuesday (geekydaddy's yoga night so I need the help) and Friday, since Fridays are for fun, and this bone of contention is now under control. Whining gets her nowhere, the rule holds fast, and she is getting pretty knowledgable about the days of the week. And the words to Bibbety bobbedy boo.

I recently read and enjoyed "the philosophical baby" by Allison Gopnick" which has an interesting chapter about young children and rules, suggesting that we are somehow adapted as a species for rule following, and that children understand rules from a very young age. They also soon understand that some rules are arbitrary and can be negotiated (rules like "videos only on Tuesday") and that some rules have a deeper truth and cannot be changed (rules like "you should not hurt other people").

In an effort to brush up our parenting skills and give us confidence to stick to our plans, and hopefully learn a few new tricks and ideas, Geekydaddy and I are going to attend a parenting seminar on "dealing with opposition and defiance" at a local child psychology center
I have attended far more classes on dog training than I have on parenting, and if the children can be brought up to the same standard of behavior of the dog; cheery affection with occasional selective deafness and opportunistic food stealing, I'll be thrilled.

How about you? Does your three year old overwhelm the mood of the family with the force of his or her emotions? what do you do? Help, support, and advice much appreciated!

The cutest age?

I have a good friend who has a daughter the same age as my Geekygirl. Whenever we hang out we talk about our girls, and for the last three and half years, without fail, at some point in the conversation she says "you know, this is such a fun age". I pointed out to her once that she seems to have found all the ages her daughter has reached fun so far, which is a testament to her joy in parenting, but I think she has put her finger on what we all so love so much about this daunting journey; every age is fun in its own way (at least so far, check back when Geekygirl turns thirteen).

I'm prompted to write today about my Geekyboy, though, because he really is at such a charming age. He is nineteen months old, on that cusp of transitioning from baby to little boy. At the moment he is such a sweetheart, such a cheery soul, and I'm sure any minute now he will turn into a cantankerous, challenging toddler, so I want to capture in words these last days of his babieness, lest I forget.

With a first child, the future is so unknown, it is impossible to imagine your adorable chunky thighed, pliable baby become that lithe, wild haired three year old sprite you watch sassing her mother in the grocery store. But with baby number two (or three or four, I imagine), the future of that baby is there staring at you through the eyes of his older sibling. I started thinking about this after looking at a calender on my kitchen wall, made by my sister from pictures of our children. September has a picture of Geekyboy, aged about 8 months, captured perfectly in character, beaming from ear to ear in a swing. I remember that little baby so well, but he is so different now from that not so distant moment.

I starting writing this blog for myself, and for friends and family, but am delighted and surprised to have garnered the attention of other readers. I apologize to you for the self indulgence of the rest of this post, surely of interest only to my friends and his grandparents.

This is wonder that is Geekybaby:

He greets me with pure delight, every single time we are reunited after being apart. I have never felt so adored. (Though the dog does come close in enthusiasm) This weekend, when I can home from the store he held me close then said "Jacket. Off", tugging at it, expressing perfectly clearly with two words that he felt that once home, I should stay home.

He recently pointed to the correct figure in his "ten little ladybugs" book and said "eight"! Sure, he said 'eight" when he pointed to the number nine on the next page too, but still, he knows that some words are numbers, and recognizes that those symbols denote that number. I was pretty impressed with such a skill at 19 months.

And just when I started to be concerned that he would grow into an emotionally stunted mathematical genius, today at dinner he said to us "Happy!" with a big beam. We have just started to have him join us at the table instead of sitting beside us in his high chair, and he is so delighted to be part of the family. Watching him understand that feelings can be described with words brought a smile to our faces. This is one of the most amazing concepts in human development, and I could witness it a million times and still be awed.

He is a conversationalist, he doesn't yet have a whole lot to say but will try to engage you in a chat about the things he knows about, like the parts of one's face, by asking "Mummy, ears?", tugging on either mine or his own, or his favourite animated characters, Dora and Boots, by producing their plastic likenesses and bouncing them along your arm for an adventure. (I don't think Geekygirl had even seen TV at his age, but for better or worse, this one is a Dora the Explorer fan already)

He is a laugher, producing peals if turned upside down, tickled on the thighs, or otherwise manhandled. Happiness is his default.

He is musical, bashing a maraca or drumstick against every available surface in time to the "lion king" soundtrack that has to be played incessantly every minute we are home (entirely my fault, I actually owned the recording long before I had kids and played it for Geekygirl when she recognized the pictures on the cover).

He is a cuddler, Sumo wrestler style. On the rare occasion that I sit down for ten minutes he runs and belly flops onto me over and over, occcasionally knocking the wind out of me, and becomes most indignant when I insist that it is Geekygirl's turn for some mummy time (When having a second child I put a lot of thought into the older being jealous of the younger, but not the opposite scenario, which happens more often every day).

I find it hard to imagine that this petal cheeked, long lashed baby boy will ever turn into a bestubbled, hairy legged, deep voiced man. I just hope the inetervening time goes by slowly!

I went last week to see David Cook in concert (I know, American Idol winner, not exactly cool but it was at the Fillmore, the best venue in SF, and he is actually quite talented. Honestly) It was a great show, but I realized how my perpsective had changed when I found myself watching David, and the cute young men in the band, tattooed and wild haired, but yet somehow still wholesome, and thinking "I bet their mothers are proud of them". I started fantasizing that Geekyboy's emerging talent for drums might turn into a rock and roll career for him, and a new roll for me, "Rock Mummy".

Its all fun and games until somebody loses an eye...

or: Well that's better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.

Three year olds and pointy sticks don't mix. Now, no one was seriously hurt, I assure you, but lessons were learned.

This Sunday the geekykids and I accidentally invited ourselves to a friend's child's third birthday barbeque. What happened was that on the preceding Saturday we were at the 41st birthday party of a different good friend, mom to Geekgygirls friend N. The other friends husband said " will you make it to A's birthday party tomorrow?" We had not actually been invited, which I attempted to communicate gracefully, without seeming to be slighted (I was not at all put out, guest lists for parties have many constraining factors, and I always consider myself happy to be invited to anyone's carefully planned occasion, and completely understand if numbers/prior fashion faux pas/badly behaved kids/simple sleep deprived oversight have deemed me and mine uninvited.)

But of course we were invited on the spot, and I felt that they did genuinely want us to come. Well, I really wanted to feel that way, since they had secured a wonderful location (Fort Mason, overlooking the bay), it was a fabulous warm day, I needed a nice 'get out of the house' activity since Geekydaddy was feeling "kidded out", and they are both vegetarians (like me) and superb cooks.

So we went to the party. The drive from where we live over to Fort Mason never fails to take my breath away. The car crested, then tipped over to point down at Alcatraz, and Geekygirl gasped "Mummy, look at the ocean! Don't drive into it", quite understandably, because it really feels as if you could just fall right into the bay.

We toy with leaving our city for the burbs, Geekydaddy and I. The terrible schools, our ridiculous commutes (mine is only 30 miles but Geekydaddy drives over 50 miles each way a day, down to Santa Clara) make us question why we stay here, but the sheer breathtaking beauty of the bay, bridge and sky on a sunny day recharges me with the will to remain a San Franciscan. For an Engish girl, living here still feels like waking up in glorious technicolor. The scientist in me knows the sky is bluer because of the curvature of the earth, but the affect these cornflower skies and the azure water have on me is not rational. Just when I think I know the city like the back of my hand I find a new spot with a different, even more perfect view.

There at this glorious edge of the western world, we ate our gourmet barbeque, our kids ran and played on an ancient cannon, and indulged in the time honoured game of climbing up and rolling down a grassy bank. Geekygirl, who, when I observe her play seems to take over groups of children and bring them into a world of her own making, had devised an intricate game of "lets save the baby alligators" which involved giving the imaginary baby alligators hidden in the trees food dangled from sticks found on the ground. How sweet, me and my friend of the 41st birthday party observed. Not once did we think "should they be playing with sticks?".

Sure enough a wail ensued and apparently Geekygirl had gotten her stick in her friend N's her eye. I give great credit to my friend for not being in the slightest bit angry, or wanting to seek explanations and assigne blame. N was fine, but I found myself wanting to know what had actually happened. Geekygirl was sheepish. But was she just worried about her friend, or had she deliberately hurt her? I was just recently reading "the secret of happy children" by Steve Biddulph, which reminded me that our assumptions about our kids can become a self fulfilling prophecy. So I assumed innocence, acted with empathy and an attempt to draw her out; "You look like you are worried about N", which was met with agreement and relief, and culminated in an apology for the accidental poke in the eye.

I keep a mental checklist of "successful parenting moments" (and the unsuccessful ones too, maybe I should make myself a sticker chart) and chalked this one up as a situation well handled. If the birthday party invitations dry up though, I may have to rethink my assessment. And it could of course all have been prevented if we had realized the obvious, and not let the kids run around with sharp sticks!

Mother's day essay

I spent a lovely hour wallowing in a bubble bath this afternoon, while the babies napped, goopy face pack on, glass of rose in one hand, book in the other. Since entering this new world of motherhood over three years ago, I've found myself drawn more to non fiction; books about women, society, work, motherhood. Maybe I'm just trying to find the perfect thesis to validate my choices. Today I was reading "Mommy wars" an anthology of essays edited by Leslie Morgan Steiner, who blogs at mommytrackd. Rather than being about mothers at war with one another, it is tales of individual women and their families, sharing their struggles and their solutions, instead of judging each other. Reading all these different perspectives brought out my introspective side, and I started to wonder, what kind of mother am I?

I"m the kind of mum who makes organic chicken stew from scratch and freezes in in batches to be taken to preschool for lunch.

I'm the kind of mum who feeds her kids microwaved frozen meatballs, mixed veg and spaghetti O's.

I"m the kind of mum who buys foam sheets, glitter and glue and spends the afternoon doing art projects

I'm the kind of mother who blogs about being a mum while her three year old is bouncing on the couch trying to get her attention.

I'm the kind of mum who gets down on the floor to be a human climbing frame for a toddler, dances to the Wiggles, and pretends to be Ariel. Or Aurora. Or Dora.

I'm the kind of mum who parks the kids in front of a Dora DVD so that I can read my book about parenting in peace.

I'm the kind of mum who is on the preschool steering committee, takes time off work to read to the class, gives gifts to the teachers, and spends a lazy day at home when one of the kids is just a little under the weather.

I'm the kind of mum who can only seem to remember show and tell day occasionally, has no spare clothes in my kids locker for accidents, so they come home in trousers saying "school pants" in red marker, and takes them to daycare dosed up with tylenol rather than stay home and miss a crucial meeting

I'm a mum who works full time outside the home at a job I love, and am so grateful to the myriad, nameless, forgotten working women of the past who paved the way for those of us who choose to work and mother.

I'm a mum who is fortunate enough to have fantastic daycare, a supportive employer, and a wonderful husband, and wishes that all women had these options.

I'm the mother of the most gorgeous, smartest and funniest little girl and boy in the world.

Anger management

We're dealing with a very angry three year old at the moment. Tiny things fill her tiny being with rage. A shoe on the wrong foot, a marker pen that dries up, a dress with sleeves that are too tight, a request to get in the bathtub, and worst of all, getting the response 'No' to a question.

I'm a big believer in the philosophy that it is OK, in fact healthy, to get angry. It is the method of expressing that anger that needs molding by us parents and teachers into a socially acceptable form. Perhaps swearing should not be quite so taboo. There is nothing quite like spitting a satisfying obsenity when you drop a book on your foot. Having to teach my child how to express anger in a healthy way makes me realize I barely know how to do it myself, and usually need to have a large glass of wine before spilling the words out.

We are not there yet with geekygirl, that is for sure. She isn't hitting the booze, thank goodness, instead hitting others is the reaction that we get most often, both at home and and preschool. One particular child, a boy we will call Billy, seems to bear the brunt of her rage at preschool. This boy has been her friend since they were both tiny (in fact I think he was the one she used to bite, back in the toddler class. I guess looking at it in that light we have made some progress). They are fast friends, but as soon as they get upset with one another, out come Geekygirl's fisticuffs. To his credit this little boy does not hit back. The fact that at 3 he is already a foot taller than all the other kids, and if you look at his dad who is over 6 ft and at least 300lb, is likely going to be a bruiser of a kid, makes me wonder why this is the lad Geekygirl chooses to pick fights with. Sometimes she manages to control her hands, but instead brings our her best insults "you are a poo poo head (also stongly discouraged at school, but in my opinion better than violence), or to me and her father "I DON'T love you anymore".

It has been a week of anger, rage and contrition. We had one morning where, because apparently all the clothes in her closet were unwearable (I confess to removing a few tattered favourites in secret in the hope some of the newer, cuter, less orphanage like items would find favour), she walked into the kitchen and hit her dad before he had the chance to even say good morning.

That morning, I think it was Wednesday, was spent mainly in time out, and culminated with a wailing child with no shoes on being plugged into her cat seat and whisked off to school, leaving us parents exhausted and drained before our work day had begun. The exasperation of trying to help Geekygirl control her behavior is thrown into contrast, perhaps too much, by the adorableness of Geekybaby. Now toddling in his robust arm swinging manner, he will enter the screaming mayhem that is our kitchen proffering his shoes to be put on, or a book to be read, full of smiles and giggles and placid tractability.

But we made it through the week, with a lot of time outs straight out of supernanny, where it takes 10 minutes of restarting the timer to get a calm three minutes, a lot of "well I still love you, even when I feel angry". Today we have made a sticker chart, a hitting free day will earn a sticker, and five stickers some kind of fabulous prize, I think an Ariel costume. I'm a bit worried this might be too high a bar though, since despite good intentions, I have been hit (albeit not very emphatically) twice already today. My new idea is to put 6 sweeties in a jar, each day, and take one out for every hit. Whats left can be consumed with dinner. Better living through bribery.

Let them eat kibble.

With cats, dog and kids constantly clamouring for sustenance, I harbour a secret desire for a big bag of "Family Chow". Something nutritious and delicious, oh, and organic of course, that can be poured into a bowl and served to either animals or children. It would save me so much time and mental energy.

I dither so much, wondering whether I should feed the cats before the kids. The advantage of feeding the cats first is that I don't get tripped up by leg winding, apparently famished cats meowing "I'm emaciated, my ribs are showing, feed me or I'll expire right now" while I make the kids dinner. The disadvantage is that leaving the cats alone with their food while I make something for the kids gives the dog a chance to sneak over to the cat food, (and oh yes, a 60 pound dog can sneak) and gobble it all up.

The dog gets fed last, since it doesn't matter how much food she has already consumed, she will still eat the cat food given half a chance, and hover around the kids table hoovering dropped food. (How do people without dogs keep their floors clean?) Or these days, getting an offering of a pureed chicken coated spoon; Geekybaby loves to share. (yes, it gets licked by the dog and goes straight back into the babies mouth. It's five against one here and I don't have eyes in the back of my head. Besides, it's good for the immune system).

This morning the inevitable finally happened. Geekygirl was happily enjoying her bowl of cheerios and allbran. The morning almost went badly, since she had requested raisin bran (something I have only bought once, but for some reason has stuck in her mind). Fortunately, though I had no raisin bran, we did have raisins, so I sprinkled a few of those in her bowl, and breakfast got off to a good start. I was making coffee, feeding the dog, and eating my own breakfast all at the same time, when I heard

"What's this mummy?". Geekygirl proffered a small, brown, milk coated item from her cereal bowl. "That's a raisin" I replied. "Remember, I put raisins in your cereal today". She put the item back into her mouth cautiously, the removed it again.

"Mummy, it's not a raisin, it's a kibble" she said indignantly.

I inspected the item more closely, and sure enough, it was a dog kibble.

"I already ate one!" She said.

I had to laugh that it has finally come to this. I am feeding the kids kibble.

stormy days

We have finally got our much needed rain here in the bay area, but along with it we seem to have brought thunderous toddler mood swings. The atmosphere in the house is much like the weather in Kauai; if you don't like it, wait five minutes and it will dramatically change. Come to think of it, a trip to Kauai would be most welcome right now, especially if the resort had a babysitter.

Geekygirl is a child who needs her breakfast in order to become human, and since her morning moods have particularly unpredictable this week, actually getting breakfast into her has been a challenge. There was the morning when instead of asking her what she wanted, I filled her cereal bowl with her usual cocktail of cheerios, cornflakes and mini shredded wheats. I figured that since she always eats the same thing I may as well save a bit of time. But having this usual ritual of cereal choice so cruelly taken away, she burst into floods of tears and refused to eat. She finally agreed to consume her ereal as long as she was sitting n my lap. But this was not OK with Geekybaby, who also wanted this prime position.

Geekybaby has mastered bipedalism, and with his new found skill can toddle far and wide. Along with this skill of independence has come a new clinginess. It's as if his little legs carry him away from mummy almost without his control, then he suddenly sees how far away he is and comes barreling back too fast for his abilities, so desperate is his need to be back with me.

Geekygirl, a preschooler now, is learning to write her name. She is delighted with this skill, and I am very impressed that at three she can make a passable effort at writing. I was less thrilled when I found her autograph markered onto our living room wall this morning. Geekybaby has also developed a new passion for marker pens, and is no longer fooled by the old 'bait and switch' tactic of replacing one unsuitable object with another of my choosing.

Our weekly grocery run, usually a pleasant family outing turned into a scene from "Supernanny" (the part before supernanny arrives). Geekygirl, adorable and helpful shopper for the first part of the trip, tried to climb out of the cart at the checkout. As he lifted her out, Geekydaddy noticed something dripping onto the reusable grocery bags we had on the bottom of the cart (green citizens that we are). Was it a leaking milk carton? A squashed juice box or an overripe grape? No, we realized in horror. It was pee. Geekydaddy opened the box of tissues we had in the cart wile I chased the pee soaked manic child through the throngs of shoppers, and carried her out kicking and screaming to the mixed looks of amusement, disgust and I hope a little sympathy on the faces of my fellow shoppers.

The plan for lunch was to go to our favourite taqueria, so I put Geekygirl in a pull up and we headed out. Storm over and back to adorableness again, Geekygirl chattered along the street, matching letters and sounds to everything we encountered. The quesadillas were wonderful, the beer even better. The taqueria has beautiful murals on the walls. Geekygirl looked at them in delight, "Mummy, someone drew on the walls in here, but we don't draw on walls?".

Time to hide the marker pens, I think!

How Geekymummy got her boobs back

Almost 4 years have gone by during which my body has been through pregnancy, nursing, another pregnancy, and more nursing. Before they fulfilled their mammalian destiny, I had always thought of my boobs as no more than attractive accessories, subtle embellishments to elegant outfits.

OK, who am I kidding, they were adornments to be flaunted to their greatest advantage in wonderbras and teeny T shirts. Then along came the babies and I realized what marvelous but bizarre organs they truly were. Source of nourishment and comfort to my babies, and cause of such mixed emotions in me; pride (how productive I am, how well my baby is growing) angst (am I making enough milk, do I have thrush in my nipples, am I leaking everywhere, am I making enough milk?) and embarrassment (ever accidentally sprayed a fellow customer at starbucks with your breastmilk?)

In the very back of my underwear draw sit delicate flimsy brassieres from those long ago times. At the front of my underwear drawer sit washed out heavy duty nursing bras that have now, apparently, served their time.

Geekybaby has decided that he is ready to quit nursing. Ever since he tasted his first real food he has become less and less interested, until at last, he squirmed away from my embrace as I attempted his bedtime feed, and reached instead for the books on the nightstand. "I want bedtime stories, Mum, not breastmilk" he seems to be saying.

I, however, don't feel ready, and I am sad to break this bond with my baby. I nursed Geekygirl 'til she was 14 months old, stopping when I got pregnant with Geekybaby. I had intended to nurse him at least this long, or longer, blithely assuming that he would continue to want this source of motherly goodness for as long as it was available. I had always thought that quitting would be my decision, and that it would be hard for him, not hard for me. This is a bittersweet milestone that I didn't see coming. A reminder to slow down, enjoy each moment, because kids grow up too fast.

But there is a shiny side to this coin, my voracious middle of the night nurser now sleeps right through the night. As my body is no longer grabbing every last nutrient to turn into milk the spring is returning to my step, and the bags are retreating from under my eyes. Could it be that my body is finally my own again? It has been so long as a host or food supply to another being that I can hardly recall how that feels. Boobs, you have done a truly marvelous job, and I think it is time for you to retire in style and return to your original calling of looking cute under tight sweaters. You've been through quite a lot in the intervening years though, so may need a tiny little bit of help. I hear the lingerie department at Bloomingdales calling!

I need guilt free convenience

Our usual weekend grocery shopping strategy failed us this weekend. We aim to take advantage of early rising children and get to Trader joe's before the mob, but this weekend we had to call out a plumber to fix the U bend under the kitchen sink, which decided to crack open and leak everywhere. The repair took quite some time, so it was afternoon before we headed out to get groceries. Parking at Trader Joes was impossible, backed up cars in all the aisles, parking directors blowing whistles and waving ineffectually as we joined the sea of frustrated Prius drivers. (I love our Prius, but it is not exactly an original choice of car in San Francisco, several times I have accidentally tried to get into somebody else's parked car). So we surrendered, and went instead to "Whole paycheck" (I mean Whole foods Market) to do the weekly grocery shop.

Now, when I was in the UK and in South Africa over the holidays I noticed that the prepared babyfood one can buy at the grocery store is far superior to what I can get here in the US. The typical jar food is available too, but high street grocery stores also sell fresh and frozen organic prepared baby food, just like homemade, in all sorts of delicious varieties (yes I tasted it!). They also sell organic, healthy premade frozen kids meals too, something I have been hard pressed to find in our stores.

I'm afraid I have succumbed to the convenience of this type of meal on busy evenings. But every time I buy them, I feel the judging eyes of the other mothers. I find myself at the check out with geekygirl excitedly clutching her carefully chosen box of "elmo's mac n cheese with gummy worms" (instructions: "remove gummy worms from package before microwaving on high for 3 minutes"), when I would see at the next aisle a fellow mother, also shopping on the way home from the office with an adorable toddler and a baby, buying organic cauliflower, 5 pounds of potatoes and a line caught salmon and I would feel like hiding behind my Us Weekly magazine in shame.

I do plenty of cooking for the kids, but with lives like ours, having something yummy stowed in the freezer is a necessity that I have no shame about. So inspired by the choices I'd seen in the UK, I scoured Whole Foods, and sure enough they do offer a limited line of frozen organic baby food, and also healthy gummy worm free toddler meals, so I stocked up. I do wish that more afordable stores like Trader Joes, or Safeway would jump on this market though, I think there would be a desire for it, just as there is in the UK.

Merchants of the USA, you are falling behind in the convenience food arena, I challenge you to shape up; there are lazy parents out here who want to feel good about throwing something in the microwave to feed our children!

holiday party

I know some people don't much like their company holiday events, but I have always enjoyed them. An American company holiday party is generally a far less debauched affair than that enjoyed by the typical British employee, but ours have always been fun. Both geekydaddy and I are social creatures and enjoy a party. I like to socialize with coworkers in a different environment, and to meet their spouses. Plus these days it is a rare occasion that we pull out suits, ties, pretty dresses and high heels and go out all gussied up. It took Geekydaddy five attempts to tie his tie, it has been so long!

In fact, the kids have so impacted our social life that I realized, scanning my closet, that I was in that age old dilemma of 'not having a thing to wear'. I can't complain too much about the way my body has recovered from pregnancies, but I am not the hard bodied size 4 (US size, i must add, before I terrify any UK readers into thinking I suffer from anorexia) that I was before the two kids. My slinky bias cut dresses just don't hang right on my muffiny mummy frame, and spaghetti straps don't work with nursing bras. Maybe I watched too much 'what not to wear' while on maternity leave, but I couldn't bring myself to flaunt my 38 year old thighs in a tiny mini skirt, even though my thighs don't look half bad thanks to pushing a double stroller around the hills of San Francisco, and it is a classy wool one from 'Theory'.

So, the day of the party, while both kids were napping and Geekydaddy was in charge, I nipped up to 'Ambiance' in Noe Valley. This is a tiny store that stocks dresses from French Connection and BCBG, and more importantly, cheaper designers of the same ilk. I filled a fitting room with about 20 dresses, sensibly selecting size 6's and mediums, and threw them on one after another. Shopping post kids is a speedier and more decisive process than the lesiurely days I used to spend browsing, trying on, contemplating choices over a nice lunch, then finally returning to select something.

Luckily one dress was a hit, a short shirt dress in ivory and black stripes, made of that knit polyester that hangs elegantly but can also be thrown on the floor after wearing and shakes right back into shape. Even more fantasitic, I had to return the medium, and buy a small! I was so speedy in my selection that I even treated myself to a drop in pedicure, and when I got home only one of the kids had awoken from naptime!

Feeling almost glamorous in the new dress, we were ready to go. Some kind of police action in the neighbourhood delayed our babysitter, but we eventually got out of the house. We go out so rarely that I don't have a regular sitter, but we do have a great network of parents in our neighberhood who share resources. Gloria was a sweet mexican Grandma, who seemed kind and competent. However I think she feels we don't keep our kids warm enough; Geekybaby goes to bed clad only in his fleecy pyjamas, no blankets. He wriggles too much for coverings. When I got home Gloria showed me proudly that she had found several blankets to cover him, surrounded him with stuffed animals, and wrapped a cloth diaper around his head, in the fashion of a cartoon character with toothache!

I unravelled him from her ministrations, and went to bed, hoping that I had drunk enough water during the evening to avoid the dreaded "up at 6.00am with lively kids and pounding hangover" syndrome, that afflicts us reformed party girls, who sometime forget that after two pregnancies and years of breast feeding, we now have the alcohol tolerance of a teenage nun.

happy turkey, peacock, warthog and grizzly bear day

Yes, the geekyfamily visited the zoo this Thanksgiving.

before regailing you with the tale of our trip, I must pause to think of everything I am thankful for. The list is long, but in the interest of brevity I'll stick to the biggies:

My family. To have two such wonderful children, Geekygirl so lovely, so bright and full of ideas and life, Geekybaby, so happy, and such a blessing to arrive through an easy pregnancy and joyful delivery, despite my advancing age, completing our family so perfectly. it is only on reflection that I appreciate how lucky I was to meet such a fine man, and to squeeze in our two incredible kids against the tick of the biological clock. I'm so thankful for Geekydaddy, the best husband and father any family could have. Though my dad thinks he does too much housework, I know I am fortunate to live every day with that rare creature, a man who is also a feminist.

Which brings me to my extended family. I'm thankful for my dear Mum and Dad, that they are able and willing to get on a plane and fly half way across the world to see us, and techno savvy enough to embrace skype, so we can see each other across the atlantic. And I'm thankful for my sister and brother, and their lovely spouses and families. I only wish that San Francisco could be located just a tad closer to the UK. That or maybe those NASA folk could hurry up and invent teleporting.

Our trip to the zoo reminded me to be thankful for the amazing and incredible variety of life on this planet (Warthogs are very weird looking animals), for the opportunity I was given, many years ago now, to live in this wonderfully diverse city, and for the great and true friends that I have made here.

As for our trip to the zoo, well I think we may have started a new tradition. There were two high points to an all round superb day. The first was that we arrived early enough to see the grizzly bear feeding. A crowd of small and large folk gathered around the glass window dividing us from the swimming pool in the grizzly habitat. When the zookeepers came they released live fat brown trout into the water, and we got to watch a National Geographic special, as the two bears, huge, golden, and well, grizzly, gallumphed through the water, one of them finally pinning his trout with a determined paw right by the glass. Nimbly transferring the flopping fish to his mouth, he proceeded to bite off its head, and crunch the whole thing down in a mess of blood, saliva and irridescant scales, inches from Geekygirl and I, who had a prime spot by the glass. Geekygirl was wide eyed, but surprisngly un-phased by this display of Nature in action.

As we left she told me "the bears have a restaurant in a swimming pool"!

The second high point of the day was our restaurant lunch at the zoo. Not in a swimming pool, but right by the flamingo pond, the 'leaping lemur cafe' is the only place to eat if you are ever at San Francisco Zoo. Geekygirl considers it the finest restaurant in town, since it serves lovely french fries and chocolate milk. Today it also put on a nice Turkey dinner, which, since Thanksgiving fare from my pescaterian kitchen is the "traditional roasted salmon" rather delighted geekydaddy, and was an unexpected bonus to an already wonderful day.

To top off the day, on our way home from the zoo, we picked up our darling geekydog from the vet. She was bright eyed and pleased to see us, and is now resting, shaved and be-coned, at home with us. Now all we have to do is relax and finish our wine, and look forward to three more whole work free days of kids and friends. And maybe a little shopping.

stay at home mum day

Geekybaby is not well. He was feverish on Sunday, and still feverish Monday morning. The doctor thinks its probably just a virus, so nothing to worry about. But this is the first time he has been sick, so of course I am a little concerned. Geekybaby is such a cheerful little soul most of the time that it seems even more sad to see him sick. As the second child, he has never gotten as much attention as his older sister did at his age. He seems to have decided that the way to our hearts is through his considerable charms, since rather than being a loud and demanding baby he is a smiler and giggler, a little ray of sunshine. But today he is having trouble letting his sunny side shine (though he is trying, bless him). But I am enjoying being able to cuddle him all day!

Having a sick baby day like this gives me a taste of a different kind of life. Just for today I'm a stay at home mum of one, instead of a working mother of two. We've built some towers of blocks, and played the xylophone, and while he napped I've sorted a pile of laundry that has been needing attention for days, swept a shi tzu sized ball of dog hair out from under the bed, and cleared my cluttered dresser of old costume jewellery that has not been worn in years. I've saved few of the safer pieces for geekygirl's dress up drawer. We walked the dog, geekybaby snug in his ergo carrier, and Geekydog and I enjoying the crisp wintery air (well wintery for San Francisco, we needed our thick sweaters on). It has been a really nice day! Though of course being a stay at home mum of one baby is a breeze compared to having both kids!

Much nonsense is talked about 'the mommy wars', stay at home vs working. The family friendly options that many of my European friends enjoy are difficult to come by here so the choice is starker, and the divide deeper. (For example many of my friends in the UK have a situations where one or both partners, professionals with well paid jobs, work part time, and this is not considered career death).

I'm glad that our situation has worked out so that Geekydaddy and I can continue our careers, and be parents too. Its busy, its expensive, there is never enough time and there is always laundry spilling out of the closet, but it is right for our family. I used to be one of those women who would say 'I could never stay at home with the kids, I'd go insane'. But now that I have the kids I realize that if circumstances demanded it, if a child became ill or had special needs, I would, and I would enjoy it and do it well. You never know what the future holds. Of course maybe this is because I am already insane.

a tale of two halloween costumes

This year I made the executive decision that Geekygirl was too young to really care what she dressed up as for halloween, and that we were too busy to take her out on a weekend to a costume store to select one for herself. Instead I picked up a cute 'bumble bee fairy' costume in Target well in advance of halloween, congratulating myself on avoiding the usual last minute scrambling through the sale racks for something suitable, and finding something that she would like, since she loves insects. Well she used to love insects. The costume was tried on and approved , and even enjoyed and worn last week to our local 'pumpkin walk'.

But rumblings of dissent had started a few days earlier. On the way home from daycare one day I heard "Sean is going to be a dinosaur for halloween. I going to be a kitty". The daycare teachers must have planted the seed that children get to choose what they want to be for halloween, rather than have constumes thrust on them by their parents. I must have a word with them about that.

"I thought you were going to be a bumble bee fairy?" I replied. "I want to be kitty" she retorted. "Hmm, a kitty would be a nice costume, maybe next year" I said mildly, hoping to diffuse the desire.

But every morning and evening Geekygirl would look at her pretty bumble bee costume sitting on the shelf and say "Whats that Mummy". The reply was always "That's your bumble bee fairy costume for halloween". And every day she would reply "I don't want to be bumble bee fairy. I want to be kitty to Halloween." Each day the fantasy seemed to get more vivid: "a fluffy kitty", "A pink fluffy kitty", "A pink, fluffy kitty with a long tail". It was amazing to me to see how she was envisioning herself in a kitty costume, that she had a vivid mental picture of how she wanted to look. But what was I going to do about it?

This was a real parenting dilemma; on one hand I wanted to encourage my daughter's imagination and share her fantasy, and get her a perfect kitty costume. On the other hand she already had a costume and I didn't want to over indulge her and teach her that she can have whatever she asks for at the drop of a hat. I decided not to hunt for another costume. But I found myself nipping out from work to buy lunch at places that "just happened" to be next to target, or Walgreens, or toysRus, and popping in "just in case" they had the perfect cat costume sitting on the rack. But no luck. I was resigned to persuading her to be a miserable bumble bee fairy, when I recalled a post on our neighborhood parents Yahoo group a week or so back advertising a kitty cat costume for sale. I hunted through my email trash, found the message, called my neighbor and sure enough she still had the costume for sale. We stopped at her house on the way home and I picked up the costume. Geekgirl was thrilled. "Its pink and fluffy!" she exclaimed from her carseat. On further examination "It has ears!", and then a few moments later "It has a LONG TAIL!".

The kitty costume has been worn every night since we got it. Geekygirl is throwing herself into her cat persona, scratching and licking her paws, and is so excited about being a kitty at daycare today. My trip to Barcelona was mercifully canceled so I get to enjoy the holiday with the family. Now, if only the rain will let up by tonight, maybe this will be a perfect halloween after all!

photo day

One of my favorite fundraisers at daycare is 'photo day'; they bring in a photographer and we get lovely pro shots of our kids (admittedly with hokey 'seasonal' background props), and part of the proceeds go to the center.

I'm not usually too fussy about what the kids wear on regular school days, I try to make an effort for birthday parties and music class, but can swallow the feeling of "why is my child the scruffiest urchin in the room?" if it means we actually get out of the house and to the desired location almost on time.

But photo day, well that is on their permanent record, so I do like them to be dressed attractively. This morning Geekydaddy got Geekybaby up and dressed. I feel that we have a very egalitarian approach to parenting in our house, but even an incredibly involved, hands on 'co-parent' like Geekydaddy does not have 'photo day today' seared on his mind, and a cute outfit planned out days in advance. I just don't think it is a father thing. Except of course in two father families, where I can envision serious conflict over whether junior should sport an edgy 'urban baby' look from Diesel, or a wholesome, preppy J crew outfit. According to my 'adorable photo moment' plan, I redressed geekybaby in his Old Navy linen printed shirt and kahkis. At least he, at seven months, has no opinions on his clothing.

Geekygirl is a different story. Not only did I want her in something cute, but I wanted it to go with what her brother was wearing, for the must have cute siblings together picture they offer, in order to extract more cash from us. My options were severely limited by the renewed vigour with which we have been pursuing potty training (big girl undies were worn to daycare this week!). Many acceptable outfits were in the laundry basket. But we found something reasonable, her only clean pair of leggings with a pretty pink tunic, worn proudly with those big girl underpants.

It was not a usual morning, our garden remodel team were round to do the final walk through. In all the excitement poor Geekygirl wet her pants. This left me with the dilemma of having no more clean leggings for her to wear. Trying to convince her to wear jeans or a dress with 5 minutes to leave the house felt insurmountable. In desperation I pulled a pair of leggings from the laundry basket (not peed on, just regular once worn grubby, I hasten to add) and grabbed the cute corduroy Osh Kosh tunic that went with them. I don't think she saw me, I hope not, if she did my frequent argument of 'you can't wear that, it is in the laundry' is not going to fly anymore! This was actually the outfit I had wanted her to wear had the leggings been clean, so I was quite satisfied with how the outfits turned out.

I discovered when I picked the kids up today that though Geekybaby was photographed today, and they did the sibling shot too, Geekygirl gets her solo photo tomorrow, Guess I'd better go and do some laundry!

The right fork

I'm a big reader, a devourer of books. I'm a fiction junkie, and an avid reader of the scientific literature in my field. That is what scientists do. If we want to know more about a subject, we do a literature search, and read all the papers. When I got a dog, I read every dog training and dog psychology books I could get my hands on. So it is not surprising that as a parent I like to read books about child development. I prefer the books that try to give insight into how a child's mind develops, and teach the reader how to apply that knowledge to helping them grow into the world.

I have tried to put the strategies I have learned into practice; for example explaining why certain behaviours are off limits and offering alternatives that are acceptable. I felt my reading had given me helpful tools, but last night I had a small epiphany. It was an ordinary moment, but for a second I felt the world as my daughter feels it. And I realized what my daughter knows already, that it is really hard being two.

Geekygirl and I were eating dinner. Since Mondays is now my pilates class night, GG, GB and I eat together before GD gets home. She had a toddler knife and fork to eat her ravioli, and was doing a great job of forking the ravioli to her mouth, when she hesitated, lowered her fork, looked uncertainly at it, and asked me

"Does this go in my mouth?".
"Yes", I replied, "your fork is for putting your food in your mouth".
"And my knife does not go in my mouth?" she continued.
"That's right", I said.
She then recited a little mantra "Knives are not for eating with, Knives can be dangerous, forks are for eating with".

And having reassured herself that she was using the correct cutlery she carried on with dinner.

This little exchange illuminated to me just how hard it is to be a toddler, how much information they have to absorb, and how easy it is for us to forget that they are still so new in the world, and their worlds are full of arbitrary rules. She had simply forgotten whether it was the knife or the fork she was supposed to put in her mouth. And really, it isn't entirely obvious, given that her toddler fork is quite sharp, and her knife very blunt. One is not obviously more dangerous than the other.

I made a mental tally of all the things Geekygirl has learned in the past couple of months; how to dress herself, and even make sure the label goes at the back, how to pee on the potty, how to feed her brother without gagging him with the spoon and making him cry, how to put together puzzles with lots of pieces, how to count to ten, how to draw a face, and so many many more things. Compare that to how many new skills we adults could master in two months. I still don't know what half the buttons on my new camera do. And if I'm forced to 'upgrade' to new software for my various work applications it takes me at least two months to become competent, and I get quite frustrated in the process too.

Every moment of every day our toddlers are figuring out the world. It must be like the first week in a new job every single day. I'm going to hold onto this feeling through the tantrums and tears of frustration.

I always believed the experts who said that consistency is important, but I understand it better now that I try to see the world through my child's eyes. Many things in her world are uncertain, so Geekygirl clings on to the rules we provide; the fork is for eating, the knife isn't, the cat tree is not for climbing, but the climbing frame is. In little soundbites like this, she learns how to negotiate the world. She is amazing!

And hopefully, by the time she is awarded her Nobel prize (Peace, preferably, but we'll settle for Medicine, Chemistry or Literature), she will have mastered the vagaries of cutlery selection and will not eat her dessert with her salad fork at the acceptance dinner!

all our children are above average

Much like the inhabitants of the fictional 'lake Wobegon', where "all the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and all the children are above average" , I am convinced that my own children, and the children of my family and friends are far superior in both looks and intelligence to the average child.

Geekygirl amazes me with the language skills she has for her age (she is exactly 2 and a half). Perhaps because it seems such a short time ago that she spoke her first words (one of her earliest and most adorable words was 'butter' for butterfly, accompanied by a charming hand flapping imitation of the insect), I am blown away when she says things like:

"today I celebrate someone's birthday"

"I ate my dinner already"

" I spilled my milk yesterday"

"He wish he could have cheerios too" (about her brother, who was indeed eyeing her cheerios)

"I like muscetti (spaghetti), it's a different kind of pasta"

and my favourite, from last week

"how are you feeling, Mummy?"

I feel that this is one of the most rewarding things about being a parent, to watch their minds and emotions unfurl and bloom through the aquisition of language.

Which is a good job, because it seems that geekygirl has inherited from one of her parents (who me?!) the need to use six words when one will do, and to have her two penneth worth inserted into every conversation. A common refrain in the house whever her father and I try to have a conversation is

"talk to me, what are you talking about?, talk to me, TALK TO ME!"