Confessions of a Beach Hater

I spent this past weekend at the beach with my sister and our children.   The weather was gorgeous and we rented a little condo in Capitola, a quaint little beach town.  

Doesn't everyone look like they're having fun?

I've lived within 20 miles of the coast of California for nearly my entire life.  I am finally owning up to the fact that I really don't like the beach all that much.  In fact, I can't stand it.  

I don't like the smell of the ocean.  I don't like the feel of the salty sea breeze and how it makes my hair feel gritty.   Seaweed gives me the creeps.   I do not find the sound of the waves soothing at all.  I find it annoying.  Splashing around in the freezing cold water is not my favorite pass time.   And do you realize how much stuff you need to haul out to your beach spot to keep two moms and five kids happy, sun screened and fed for the day?   Then there's the issue of the bathroom.   If someone has to use the facilities, you likely have to gather your shoes and towel and hike to the nearest public toilet which will be smelly and covered in sand of course.

My great-grandparents came to the United States from Norway.  Norway.  Land of snow and ice, not beaches and surfers.  My relatives settled in states like Minnesota and North Dakota.  Places not known for fun in the sun.  If the temperature gets above about 80 degrees, I get very cranky.  There is no escape from the glare of the sun at the beach.  I have a beach umbrella, which gives me about 3 feet of shade that I rarely venture from.   I just sit under my umbrella and grumble about how much I hate the beach.

But most of all, I hate the sand.  I hate walking on the sand.  I hate how it sticks to everything and coats my feet.  I hate trying to brush my kids hands clean when they want a snack.  I hate that no matter what I do, the sand seems to linger on my floors, in my shoes, in my bags and on my children for days.

I want to like the beach.  I can't entirely blame my Norwegian heritage since my sister loves the beach and is immediately relaxed when she steps onto a beach.  And we share the same DNA.  But I really just don't like it.

So you may be asking yourself why I spent the weekend at the beach.   Well because it was great to get away with my sister and my kids had a blast.  They played with their cousins, buried each other in the sand, ate ice cream, and generally did kid beach things... like collect sea shells.  Not pretty, lovely, put in a glass dish sea shells.  Oh no.  Dirty, sandy, grey sea shells that smell like the ocean.  Yuck.  

But what really sent me over the edge this weekend was when one of my daughters brought me her latest hand full of sandy sea shells.  She had one hand behind her back as I marveled over her finds.  After she put them down, she pulled the hand from behind her back and said, "but best of all..."  and was holding what I thought at first was a cat skull but realized later was probably a duck skull.   I wanted to run home screaming, fill the bathtub with Purell and dunk all the kids in it.  Just typing that makes me shudder. 

So call me whatever you like beach lovers.  It's just not my cup of tea.  I prefer to play in the water somewhere that my kid won't dig up duck bones.  I'll take a nice chlorinated pool any day.  Preferably one where a waiter refreshes your drink every half hour and you can order lunch from the little phone near the bathroom with the built in shower.

Put Down the Blackberry

My husband, Jay, wrote a small essay for our local mother's club newsletter this month and I thought I would share it here in honor or Father's Day.   

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For most Father’s Day is about golf clubs, tacky ties, the big sale at Home Depot on grills and drills. While Mother’s Day is about flowers, breakfast in bed and spa days – Father’s Day is about foot ball games and steak dinners.

Admittedly, it’s nice to have a day to celebrate fatherhood. My wife would argue that every day is Father’s Day. There was an article in Time Magazine a couple of years ago that questioned whether fathers deserve Father’s day. The article cites statistics that suggest that the answer may be an unequivocal no. For example, it states, "In the U.S., more than half of divorced fathers lose contact with their kids within a few years."

It further states, "According to a 1994 study by the Children's Defense Fund, men are more likely to default on a child-support payment (49%) than a used-car payment (3%)." Finally, the article notes, "Even fathers in intact families spend a lot less time focused on their kids than they think: in the U.S. fathers average less than an hour a day (up from 20 minutes a few decades ago), usually squeezed in after the workday."

Those statistics may sound grim, but I would argue all the more reason to celebrate Father’s Day. There is no denying that fathers matter in the lives of their children. Fathers today are more involved in the daily routine of their children’s lives than they were 20 or 30 years ago. Heck, some of our fathers had never changed diapers when we were infants; at our home, diapers, bottles and even dishes were part of my daily routine.

It’s easy to get caught up in career and stress and what our lives were like before we had children. Parents have lots of big things to worry about, especially in times like these. We want to hold on to our jobs, make sure our kids are getting the best education, enable kids to participate in 3.5 activities (soccer, dance, softball, etc.) per week, ensure our kids have good healthcare. These are not small matters, and the demands and pressures on fathers are even greater during the work week, which inevitably can mean less time with the children.

Often times, it feels like fathers are full-time parents only on weekends due to the demanding work-week. I know most fathers today try to make the most out of time we do get with our kids. Don’t underestimate the value of even a few minutes of getting down on the floor with the kids and goofing around.

Hopefully mothers and all that they do were properly celebrated last month with pedicures, brunch and the like. As much as Fathers day is about celebrating dads, I think it is more about fathers putting their work, four-somes, and blackberries away to be dads from morning til evening.

It is about spending the entire day with the kids, not taking breaks from the kids (that is called work).

So this Fathers Day, shut off the cellphone and/or blackberry, check in the expectations of the day “off” and spend time with the kids – cook a meal with them, play soccer, catch, read them a book… After all, there is nothing more satisfying than helping your daughter learn how to ride a bike, and far more gratifying than any client or deal.

If you want the “traditional” Fathers Day, then play golf (insert your favorite hobby here) on Saturday.

I couldn't take it anymore, so I took my kids to IKEA

You can read all about it here.

A Small Peek Into Life With My Four Year Old Son

It's 5:20am and I hear "mommy, mommy, mommy" coming from his room down the hall.  I stumble out of bed to see what the problem is.

Raj: "Smell my pajamas."

I smell his pajamas and nothing seems out of the ordinary.

Me: "They smell fine to me."

Raj:  "OK, you can go back to your room now."

Later that same morning his sisters are up at 6:30am and hungry.  They usually pile into my bed one by one in the morning and one everyone is up, we go downstairs together for breakfast.  By the time Raj came downstairs carrying his blanket, about seven stuffed animals and with his usual awesome bed head, the girls were almost done with their breakfast.  

He hopped up into his chair and said, "sorry I'm late."

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Raj's preschool class is mixed age.  There are three, four and five year olds.  Last week they had diploma day and the five year olds who were off to kindergarten got diplomas and there was a picnic.  There was much discussion about how not everyone was getting a diploma that day, and only the kids moving on would get one, and all kids will get one when they are ready to move on and blah, blah, blah.  

On the way home we had this conversation:

Raj: "I have some bad news and some good news"

Me: "Oh, no.  What's the bad news?"

Raj: Big sigh, "I didn't get a diploma."

Me: "What's the good news?"

Raj: "We had jello jigglers for snack!!!!"

For him, jello jigglers fix everything.

Summertime and The Livin' Is (not) Easy

Summer have officially arrived at the mauve rental house of loveliness.  Hooray!  Joy!  No more pencils, no more books, no more teacher's dirty looks!

First day of first grade 08/08.

Last day of first grade.  Official second graders. 06/09

It was a good year.  I enjoyed being the mom of two first graders.  I could use a nap though.

So let's get real.  I'm a little scared of summer.  We've got a few camps lined up, a couple mini vacations.  But it will mostly be home camp with me as camp director.  I am hoping to have a lot of days like this:

But my fear is we will have more days like this:

So ready or not, here we come summer.  I'm sure it will provide lots of blog fodder.   If you're in the San Francisco Bay Area, we're looking for play dates.  Preferably at your house. 

More High Crimes

First off, thank you to everyone for your kind comments on my last couple of posts.  Every comment means so much to me.

I think it's time for a little levity here in Norwindia and guess what??  I got our little town quarterly newsletter in the mail the other day.  Of course, I skipped over the nice story about the new monument to the last stage robbery in SM County and the recycling tips and went straight to the Police Blotter.  It did not disappoint.  I thought that last quarter's blotter was great, but this one is even better.  

Check out what the HPD has been up to lately:

• A woman called requesting police to force her two kids to get along.  Officers arrived and found that the "kids" were 20 and 22 years old.  Advice was given.  (seriously??)
  
• A woman who had locked herself out of her home called police because she did not want to wait by herself late at night for the locksmith to arrive at her house.  Assistance was provided.  (it's called hide-a-key lady)
  
• HPD officers responded to a 9-1-1 call of a family disturbance and discovered that a mother and her juvenile daughter were arguing over a school field trip.  Advice was given.  (that so could have been me)
  
• HPD officers responded to a call of a verbal argument on the street in the 300 block of Street.  Upon arrival a small group ran from officers and jumped over neighboring fences.  One person who fled the scene dropped his cell phone and was later identified by calling his "mom" in the cell phone contacts. (ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha)
  

I hope the police academy provides at least a little training in marriage and family counseling.  

Living in Fear

My book club picked The Middle Place by Kelly Corrigan for this month's book.  I can't bring myself to pick it up.  It hits too close to home right now.  Maybe that's exactly why I should pick it up.  And yet, I just can't.

My father has been gone since I was eight.  So my mother is really the only parent I have ever known.  She's amazing.  She really truly is.  I've always been so proud of her and somewhat in awe.  She wanted to be a doctor, but her strict, old school father wouldn't pay for med school for a daughter.  He believed women shouldn't be doctors.  Instead she studied nursing and had a very successful 30+  year career.  She was the school nurse when I was in kindergarten and first grade.  She joined the Air Force and traveled the world.  She volunteered at Planned Parenthood.  She married my dad in 1966 at the age 32.  Most of her peers already had children at that point.  

But her life wasn't always easy.  Her father was an alcoholic and though she has never come right out and admitted it to my sister and I, we're pretty sure her mother suffered from depression and committed suicide shortly after my mom graduated from nursing school.  She became a widow at the age of 45 with two young daughters to raise who were right on the cusp of adolescence.  

Despite all that, she provided pretty normal childhood for me and my sister.  I never felt deprived of experiences as a kid and she always made me feel loved, safe and taken care of.  No easy task for a single parent.  I've always had great respect for her.  And she is an incredibly loving grandmother.  My kids worship her and they always have fun when she's here.  She'd do anything for her grand kids. 

Yet something shifted after I got married and had kids of my own.  We seem to be developing an ever more complicated relationship.  She is a compulsive hoarder, but that isn't really the issue.  It's more that she just can't let go of the past.  I think she has a really hard time seeing me as an adult and not her child.  We can't seem to establish a relationship as adults.   I have a hard time understanding her and I think she sees me as emotionally walled off.  And to be honest, I am emotionally walled off to her a lot of the time.    There is a lot more to say here, but I'll leave it at that for now.  That's the simple version.

To complicate things even further... she isn't in the best of health.  Four years ago she had a triple bypass, she is diabetic and for a nurse, does not take very good care of herself.  She has also been slowly showing signs of dementia (?), Alzheimer's (?), old age (?)... I'm not really sure.  My sister and I have discussed it for several years.  At first it was funny and we'd joke about her inability to remember anything.  She will tell us a question, not remember the answer or even that she asked the question 10 minutes later.  She can never remember what day it is.  She can't remember how to cook even simple things.  Often she'll have something written in her date book and have no idea what it is.  She gets lost in the town she's lived in for 30 years.   She had been to our rental house twice, and on her third visit I found her three doors down after ringing their door bell and discovering that was not our house, looking around perplexed (and my car was parked in our driveway).   Last week she forgot to pick up Raj from preschool no less than an hour after I had called to remind her she was picking him up.   I could go on and on.

This past weekend she was supposed to be at my house at 7am to attend a Family Fun Run and carnival with us.  She called at 6:30am to say she was feeling dizzy, probably should stay home and may go to the doctor.  I said no problem and I'd call her later.  I proceeded to pour a chocolate protein shake all over myself and my kitchen about five minutes before we had to leave (don't ask) and was distracted.  I got caught up in the events of the day.  We had to rush home from the carnival so Jay could catch an airplane, then I had to shower to get the now caked on chocolate shake out of my hair.  Then I had to get Jayne and Sejal all gussied up for their ballet show photographs.  Meanwhile, my sister called to ask if I had heard from mom.   She said she'd been trying to get ahold of her all day and her line was busy.  She also wasn't answering her cell phone, which isn't entirely unusual since she has no idea how to use the cell phone.  She makes a call on it, then turns it off instead of simply hanging up.  

My sister lives about an hour from my mom and I live about 10 minutes away from her.  I said I'd go by her house and check on her on my way back from the photos.  Well, I was so wiped out from the day after the photos.  My kids were hungry and tired, a disastrous combination as any parent knows.  I was afraid I'd go by her house, she'd be fine and she would want to go out to dinner with us.  I just didn't have the energy for a restaurant, or the energy to disappoint my starving kids after she suggested it.  I went home, fed the kids and put them to bed.

My sister and I kept trying her phone and kept getting a busy signal.  I couldn't leave the house to go check on her at this point since Jay was not home.  I haven't met any neighbors here that could come over and sit at my house.  And we don't know any of her neighbors that could check on her.  We debated whether my sister should drive down, we should call the police to check on her, or just wait until the morning.  We reluctantly decided that I would go over there after I dropped my kids at school the next morning.  It would not be unheard of for her to not hang up her phone properly and not realize it was off the hook all day long.  And yet I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach as I went to bed.  

The whole drive over to her house this morning, awful things were running through my head.  I pulled up to her house and I was shaking.  The front door was unlocked and I walked right in.  I could hear the TV and smell something like waffles.  "Mom" I cried out.  "Kir, is that you?" she answered.  My heart just dropped.  I asked her what the heck was going on with her phone and did she realize Kari and I thought something terrible happened?   She hadn't been able to find her phone and was really just confused as to why it would have been off the hook.  

The whole thing was a wake up call for me.  I feel like my sister and I live in a constant state of fear.  When will it happen?  What will tell our kids who are so very attached to their Grammy?  How on earth will we cope?  What if I don't ever tell her how very proud I am of her and at least try to repair our fractured relationship?  

I don't think it's good for my mom to be living alone.  I don't even know if it's safe any more.  But she is not ready to face cleaning out her house, which trust me, would take monumental effort.  I don't know if she ever will be ready to face it.  We're scared, my sister and I.  I know there will be some tough decisions to make in the near future.  There will be some scary and old emotional scars to face that we've been ignoring for years and years.  

What if something had happened?  I never would have been able to forgive myself for not going to check on her because I didn't want to go out to dinner with her.  I can't stop thinking about it.  And I'm terrified.  

Moved

I want a medal... or a trophy.  Or at the very least a vodka tonic.  I've spent the last week packing up all our belongings and moving them into our rental house.   I touched every single item in our home, decided if it was a keep, donate or trash.  I hauled three full mini van loads of items to various charities.  I hauled four full mini van loads of junk to the city dump.  That was a joy.  And while we hired movers for a few hours one morning to move our furniture, Jay and I moved all of our belongings ourselves.  Everything.  Every plate, wine glass, teapot, box of cereal, jar of peanut butter, cook book, box of Christmas decorations, jacket, shirt, shoe, picture frame, crayon, coloring book, pillow, toy and lamp.  I am beyond tired.   I feel like I need a week long nap.

On the plus side, I feel like our lives are simplified just a little bit.   I have spent the past month clearing out things we don't need.  I feel like we took only what we really need to the rental house.  It feels so good not to have cluttered closets and drawers stuffed full of useless items.  It feels really good.

But man oh man am I wiped out.  And seriously, I would like a high five.  I would like someone to come over to my house and see all that I accomplished over the past few weeks and give me some sort of prize.  I worked my tail off simplifying our lives and I want a trophy.  I want some kudos.  I want a spa day.  

So, we keep referring to our rental house as "the pink house."  I am not really sure if it's pink or purple or mauve.  You tell me.

It's a nice house though.  Maybe the owners were trying to distinguish it from the neighbors.  You see, it's in a little subdivision of about 25 homes in two adjacent cul-de-sacs.  As far as I can tell, there are only three different varieties of home in this little suburban subdivision.  It's quaint, but there is a lot of sameness.   You could walk into any of your neighbors homes and know exactly where the bathroom was.  Or I could imagine being really tired one day and pulling up into your neighbors driveway and wondering why the garage wasn't opening before realizing it wasn't your house.  Not that I would know anything about that.

Not that there's anything wrong with suburban sameness.  I just like a little variety and character in a neighborhood.  My kids love the pink (purple? mauve?) house because it's something new and different.  They can ride their bikes around the cul-de-sac, we have really fancy toilets with "personal hygiene" buttons and the elliptical machine was included in the rental.  That thing has provided hours of entertainment and we've only been here for a few days.  

I have no idea how long we'll be here in the neighborhood of suburban sameness.  It will take anywhere from eight months to a year to turn our beloved old white house into our dream home.  But I think we'll be happy here for the time being though.  I'll be sharing lots of photos of the demolition and construction.  I know at least one reader will appreciate the before and after shots.  

Our house may be pink (purple? mauve?) on the outside... but inside it's nothing but white.  The brand new carpets are white and every wall and piece of trim is painted stark white.  I told my husband he can kiss our security deposit good-bye.  If anyone has any tips for keeping the walls and floors white with three small children running around, please let me know.   What is the color white supposed to do to your mood?  Because so far it makes me want to keep everything hospital clean and sparkling which is exhausting.  

I found a great way to add a little color to my kid's rooms though.  Check it out.

Wall decals from The Land of Nod (disclaimer: I paid full price for those stickers, plus shipping.  Land of Nod is not sponsoring this post in any way.  I just think they are a great way to decorate a kid's room.  And I also really love Land of Nod).   I am not quite finished with Raj's race track, but he loves it.  The tree in the girl's room looks like it was painted on.   And they come right off without damaging the paint or the wall.  

So enough about the pink (purple? mauve?) house. 

I feel good.  Cleaning out, simplifying and organizing feels good.  I am so excited to get started on the demolition of our real home.  I am going to personally take a sledgehammer to my old kitchen.   I can't wait.

In the middle of all the moving, we've been completely disconnected.  No phone, no TV, no internet.  It's been kind of nice.  But we are fully plugged in now and I have a lot of catching up to do.  I got some fantastic comments on my last couple of posts and I discovered readers I didn't know I had.  I can't wait to check out your blogs.   Tonight is the first night it's not painful to be on my lap top because my shoulders and neck are so sore.  

Now where is my effing trophy?

Soccer and Ballet and Swim, Oh My!

Are my kids over-scheduled??  How many activities is too many?

I'm talking about it over here today.  

Commenter's Block

We've all heard of writer's block.  I currently have a case of writer's block.  Tons of ideas for posts are swimming around in my head, but I just can't seem to get them from my head onto the computer.  But that's OK.  I'm sure the words will flow soon.  I've got a lot going on right now and not a lot of time to be alone with my iBook G4.  

But this post is about comments, not writing.  Most all bloggers love comments.  We put a little piece of ourselves out on the internet and the feedback from our "friends" is our reward.   Comments can reassure our sentiments, make us see things from a different perspective, give advice or just let us know someone out there is reading.  Comments are like little gold nuggets of love to bloggers and I'm no exception.  I love reading your comments.   And really... your comments always make me laugh.

I read a lot of blogs and I try to comment on most all of them.  But lately, I have commenter's block.   I try to ask myself "will this comment help or hurt this blogger?" I try to think of something other than "great post" or "right on" or the dreaded "LOL."  Sometimes all I can think to write is "I read this."  Who wants that in their comments section?  You people write funny, heartfelt, compelling stuff and all I can think of is, "I hear that sister."  I mean unless you have a gorgeous little baby boy, then I leave two comments.  

If you have ever left a comment here, I've added you to my reader.  Rest assured that I am reading everything you write, I just can't think of anything to say.  So if "I read this" is enough for you, just let me know.  In the meantime, I'll try to find my commenter's mojo and offer up something more.  

And if you read this, can I get a "great post" or perhaps even a "LOL"?

 

Dear Raj,

Today you are four years old.


My best boy.  My favorite son.  My sidekick.  Your sisters may have made me a mother, but that just means you got the more relaxed, experienced me as a mom.  I've never fretted over your every milestone.   I've savored every moment of your four years.  I'm amazed at the little boy you're turning into.  

I never imagined playing race cars could be so much fun.   It is impossible for me to stay mad at you, because you are impossibly funny.  If you are not some sort of comedian when you grow I will be amazed.   I feel terribly sorry for the girl you will marry someday, because I am sure I will make an annoying mother-in-law.  But thankfully that is long way away.   We have lots of race car games to play, bike rides to go on, lego garbage trucks to build and Handy Manny episodes to watch.  

Happy Birthday you crazy kid.

Battle Apple

My kids are what would generally be considered good eaters.  They do not eat a large quantity of food, but what they do eat is generally healthy.  Their meals are fairly well balanced and we eat a lot of fruits and vegetables.  If they want something to drink, it's either milk or water.  When we eat out at a restaurant they are allowed lemonade as a treat and we have dessert night once a week.   

I don't obsess about what they eat or don't eat.   I know I am so very lucky to have healthy kids that I don't need to obsess over as far as their food consumption goes.  I've written about my philosophy about feeding children before.

But what I'm most proud of is the fact that my kids will try just about anything.  They've eaten Indian food since they were toddlers.  I made all of their baby food myself when they were starting on solids.  Since I wasn't able to breast feed any of them for any significant length of time, I felt like I owed it to them.  I would steam and puree veggies and all kinds of other stuff and even add some spices.  My kids are always surprising me with the things they will eat.  They like food with flavor.   

Both Jay and I love to cook.  We try to get the kids involved in the kitchen as much as possible.  They like to look through cook books and pick out things that look good.  One of our favorite family activities is cruising the farmer's market in the spring and summer and plan our dinner.  My kids all have their favorite shows on the Food Network.   I swear they have some of the best family friendly TV shows.  They even staged their own "Iron Chef Battle Apple" in our breakfast room yesterday.  Raj was Bobby Flay, Sejal was Cat Cora and Jayne was the challenger.  

We are a family that loves good food.  We like shopping for it together, cooking it together and mostly we love eating it together.  Why am I telling you all this??  Because even I get tired of cooking three meals a day sometimes.  There are days that I really don't feel like making dinner and I just want to eat popcorn and Diet Pepsi for dinner.  I hear it's frowned upon to feed small children popcorn and Diet Pepsi for dinner though.  

Even though we try to eat mostly organic foods and serve our family healthy food, we are not above eating at say, McDonald's every now and then.  The other day I was running around trying to get a million things done and I had Raj in tow.   It was lunch time for him and I needed something quick.  We drove through McDonald's and I pulled into a parking space to get him set up with his food.  I noticed a family sitting in a van next to me eating their Happy Meals in their van.  Then I noticed the big sticker on the side of their van.

I'm not judging (OK, maybe just a little).  I just thought it was amusing.  I guess even Holistic Food For Kids sacrifices healthy for fast and convenient every once in a while.

Click

Introducing my new favorite thing in the whole wide world...

I've had my new camera for about two weeks now and I carry it with me almost everywhere I go. I actually read the instruction manual. I have to resist the urge to make out with it I love it so much. I've never had a fancy camera, so I have a lot to learn to make sure it lives up to it's potential. But here are a few shots I've taken so far.

Moi, before I learned how to turn the flash off

Barrel room at Nickel & Nickel.

Once a year these trees in my backyard make a blanket of pink flower petals.  It's really pretty.

My driveway at 4pm.

And of course, several of my favorite subjects...

Sea Monkey experiment (they never hatched by the way).





Anyone have any tips, anything at all for using my new Canon Rebel EOS??  I am having fun playing around with it.  So if you don't like pictures of my kids, you may want to delete me from your reader.  Although I will try not to go overboard.  No promises.

Enough Said