One Hour at the Gym

9:30AM Arrive at the gym for one hour of child-free exercise. I'm hoping to read while getting some cardio exercise.

9:31AM Sign the girls into childcare, drop stuff off in locker room

9:35AM Recumbent bike, perfect for reading, becomes available. Work out begins.

9:42AM I see the child care woman enter the gym, obviously searching for someone. She makes a beeline for me.

9:43AM I am back in the child care room. La Nina had an accident and she is teary eyed over the whole thing. While I was surprised she had an accident, it sort of made sense. She was wearing her gymnastics leotard and didn't get it off in time. Her leotard, sweats, panties, socks and shoes are soaked.

9:45AM I am at the car, digging through Carly's emergency clothing stash. Thankful that at somepoint in my life I was organized, I gather up a full change of clothes--appropriate for gymnastics or regular wear-- and head back into the gym.

10:00AM La Nina is wiped, changed, comforted and resettled in childcare. I took her clothes in a plastic bag to my locker and I'm back in the gym, no bikes are available. I search for a piece of cardio equipment that will allow me to read while I sweat. Ok, a little false start, but that's ok. I still have 30 minutes.

10:10AM I see the child care person again enter the gym. It never even occurs to me that she could possibly be looking for me. She walks past me, then circles back and stops at my eliptical trainer. No effing way, I thought. (Editted slightly because my mother reads my blog.)

10:11AM I'm back in child care and Maggie has a bad diaper. And I mean bad. Let me tell you there is nothing to interrupt a work out like a 2 year old with a blow out. It's been a long time since I've seen anything like that. I'm actually sort of awestruck for a minute. She's saying, "Stink, Mama, stink". "Oh, yes it does, dear. Oh yes it does."

10:13AM I back at the car to get Maggie a change of clothes. I break open the emergency clothing bag for a second time in 30 mintues and find something for Maggie to wear. I don't think I've accessed the emergency clothes since November. Amazing.

10:23AM It's a seven wiper. "It" was literally everywhere. Maggie is cleaned, changed, comforted and resettled in child care. I rinsed her pants and double wrapped them. I head back to the car. I'm not putting these in my locker with my clean clothes. There are already pee-pee clothes in plastic in my locker. But I draw the line at blow out sweats. I don't care if I rinsed and double wrapped them. The clothes in my locker are clean. The clothes in the bag are not.

10:25AM I start to look for a cardio machine and realize I only have 5 minutes left before I have to leave. I give up on my workout, take my book and read in the locker room until it's time to go.

10:30AM I sign the kids out of childcare and head to gymnastics.

By the numbers, I spent a total of 62 minutes at the gym. Only 17 minutes were spent exercising. I spent 33 minutes dealing with my kids and their issues. I made 3 trips to the car. I redressed both of my girls and I dealt with 2 sets of soiled garments. It was quite a work out. Thank goodness the girls will be in pre-school when I go to the gym tomorrow.

The Curious Thing About George

Friday night is movie night in our house. It's the only day of the week when we watch movies. (For the sake of argument in our house, we've defined movies as anything over 60 minutes in length.) The entire family watches together huddled under blankets with popcorn on the couch. We started this tradition a while back, and it's been great. No more debates about when to watch movies...we watch them on Friday nights. The girls ask all week when it's going to be Friday.

The way we work it, we each have a turn to pick movies. We tried just letting the kids pick, but after 3 straight weeks of Cinderella, the writing was on the wall: Mom and Dad needed to influence the selection process. This week was our week to pick and we decided to give a real theatre a shot.

After a great deal of strategizing, we decided the 4pm matinee at a small theatre was the best bet. I took cotton for La Nina's ears (she doesn't like loud noises) and blue blanket for the Magster. The worst part was convincing the kids to walk down the long dark hall into the theatre itself. In fact, neither walked; we carried them. But once the previews were over and the movie started, the girls were totally hooked. La Nina even handed me the cotton from her ears after about 30 minutes.

For the record, Curious George was absolutely charming and he certainly bewitched my girls. Even the Magster sat still for all 90 minutes, except for when Dad wasn't quick enough with the popcorn and she had to walk over to him to get some.

So, all in all, it was a success. Something else we can do with the girls now that they are getting older. Of course, I almost choked when I spent $25 on popcorn and drinks for everyone. At prices like that, I doubt this will be a weekly event, but it will be a delightful special occasion.

The Difference Between My Girls

Now that the Magster is settled in her preschool and loving every second of it, I have several more sets of eyes on my girls. And everyday, when I pick them up, a different teacher stops me and says, "Your girls could not be more different from each other."

Of course, this isn't news to me. I have been aware of their opposite personalities for some time. But this week, when picking up the kids from school their play ground behavior captured the essence of their distinct personalities.

Ever since La Nina was 2, when I picked her up from school she was one of two places: either on the swing or waiting for her turn. It's uncanny. It doesn't matter if I'm early or late. It doesn't matter if it's warm or cold. She loves to swing and rarely deviates from her preferred activity. In fact, I can only remember one time, when I found her somewhere other than the swing. She was in the potty. Hey-when nature calls, even swinging can wait.

On the other hand, I never know where I'm going to find her sister. I have found her in tunnels, in sand and on top of slides. Never once have I found her near the swing. Of late, the Magster's activities have been concerning me. This week, when I picked her up, she was leading the boys' on a merry chase around the playground. And she was winning. There were 3 of them. And they were all almost 5 years old. I wouldn't have been worried except one of the boys came up to me and said, "She is so cute, I just want to kiss her." Good GOD! She's only 2. Then, I heard she asked him to spend the night. "Night-night my house, ok?" Just for the record, I have a firm no boys overnight policy that extends until my girls are 40 or married, which ever comes first.

So being a good Mom, after Tuesday, I decided she needed to know it's ok to tell the boys "No". I took her aside this morning and told her if she didn't like being chased by the boys, she could tell them No and if they didn't stop, she could talk to the teacher. She looked a little confused, and said ok.

So, today, when I show up, I do a little stealth observation. On one side of the playground I see the 3 boys playing with trucks. On the other side, I see my dear, sweet, mild-mannered Magster. Her sister is at her usual post near the swing. As I'm watching, the Magster walks over to the group of boys, grabs one by the sleeve and yells, "Come On", sprinting away. Next thing you know, she is leading the pack of boys around the playground. I walk onto the playground as she takes a spill literally at my feet. One of the boys, the one who wants to kiss her, picks her up, dusts her off, and the pursuit begins again. The Magster never even noticed me. Her sister, on the other hand, runs over to me, gives me a hug, and returns to her spot in line for the swing.

Now, I ask you this...is this a bad sign? 'Cuz I'm a little worried.

Conversations with an almost 4 year old, part 2

Again, recorded to the best of my recollection.

Me: "Honey, get your rain boots on. We're going to run errands."

La Nina: "Where are we going?"

Me: "Weekly offices to pick up extra copies of my story, to get gas, Red Bear to pick up a head shot for another story I'm writing, then to Andrea's so you can hold Baby Erik."

La Nina: "Is he out of her tummy?"

Me: "Yes, honey. Remember you met him the other night. But your nose was running, so we agreed you would hold him another time. This is the other time."

La Nina: "Is her tummy flat?"

Me: "Yes. She looks great. Go get your boots."

La Nina: "But, Mom. I thought babies came from orphanages, not tummies."

Me: "Well, all babies start out in a mommy's tummy, but some mommy's can't take care of their babies. That's how come some babies end up in orphanages."

La Nina: "Then, they find forever families?"

Me: "Yeah. Honey. That's how it works."

La Nina: "Do I have to wear socks?"

So ended today's conversation. I hate to bore you with the details of my daughter putting her story together, but I am intrigued by it. We will probably repeat this conversation or something similar for the next few days, then she'll drop it. She never fails to surprise me with her questions. Incidently to other China parents, La Nina started asking questions started at 2 and a half. I know that isn't true of all kids, but prepare yourselves. You never know when they are going to come at you with questions.

What happened to my Spring?

We have had the most glorious weather for the past two weeks. The sunny days in the mid-70's lulled me into forgetting this is the month that begins with "F". Normally, I don't like months that begin with "F", I like months that are 4 letters and begin with J. I also enjoy months that start with A and S, but D, N, J (longer than 4 letters) and F, I could do without. The fact I have liked the first two weeks of "F" month is rather remarkable. Until today. It all ended today.

Over night the temperature dropped 20 degrees. We went from short sleeve shirts to Tinkerbell jackets overnight. And now, it's supposed to rain. The inhumanity of it all.

Worse yet, the girls broke out the flip flops during the good weather and are a little bummed about putting them away. We have a rule about no flip flops out of the house this time of year, but somehow they keep coming up with reasons to wear them. "Mom, I'm just going to the mailbox. I don't need shoes and socks." "Mom, I'm just waving to Daddy. I don't need shoes and socks." "Mom, I'm just going to school, I don't need shoes and socks." I have never heard so many reasons to leave the house without shoes in 50 degree weather. Don't they're feet get cold?

But here is my biggest complaint about the weather: no more afternoons in the yard riding trikes and blowing bubbles. But lots of afternoons with the kids cooped up and one Mom desperately trying to keep them busy. We got a taste of the good life and now we've been slapped back to reality for the next few weeks. How many days 'til Spring?

May you have a royal Valentine's celebration today! With love from the Princesses of the Castle 

And So Ends Porcelain Adventure

Well, we cancelled the great porcelain adventure due to wholesale manipulation of the situation by the small child. May be indefinitely postponed the adventure is a better way to phrase it. The Magster figured out going to the potty was a lot more work than simply using her diaper, so she began skipping the whole potty thing. Mind you, she was wearing panties when the skipping started and I was watching the laundry pile up.

I would put her on the potty. She would tell me, "No pee, Mom, no pee-pee." I would take her off the potty and a puddle would magically appear on the floor. Or she would be playing, I would take her to the potty. She would scream at the inconvenience of leaving, refuse to potty, then potty has she ran down the hall.

It came down to this. My position was panties and potty. Her position was panties and no potty. So, I win and she is back in diapers. Of course, now she is extremely insistent about prompt changes. As soon as she feels any wetness, she finds me and begins taking off her diaper. That means I interrupt whatever I am doing and deal with her. Goodness, now that I write this, I realize perhaps she is still winning. Damn it! I hate it when the kids outsmart me.

When Life Imitates Art

I had an opportunity today to go to lunch and meet a local writer, Ayelet Waldman. Even better, I am writing a story about the event, so it was as close to a working lunch as I get anymore.

If you aren't familiar with Ayelet Waldman's work, she writes stories about Moms. She is the mother of 4 kids aged 3-11 and lives in the Bay Area. Her most controversial work, an essay that appeared in the New York Times, basically challenged Moms to love their spouses more than they loved their kids. While the essay had a very sexual tone, its message was that a lot of women get so involved in loving their children, they forget to love their spouses. I thought her observations were spot-on. In fact, after reading the essay I could practically list the people I thought fell into that trap. But so controversial was this essay, it landed her on Oprah's infamous couch. It ruffled a lot of feathers with my peers, that is for certain.

Personally, I am a fan Waldman's Mommy Track Mystery series. The protagonist is a public defender who stayed home after her daughter is born and became a private detective. The character's attempt to work while juggling two kids is my life. Sure, I have never answered the door to the Fed Ex man while breast feeding, but I have had to put my kids in a time out while in the middle of interviewing someone for a story. (If you read this, I was interviewing people at the park while mayhem was breaking lose.)

There I am today. I'm lunching, enjoying adult conversation about writing, listening to someone who's work I've read. I hear a cell phone vibrating. Surely, that is not my cell phone, because I'm having a good time. I ignore it. About 10 minutes later, I hear it again. I move my foot over to my foot and feel my purse quiver. Damn! It's my friggin' cell phone.

When I get away from the table, I discover I have 2 messages. Poor Nana and Papa have the Magster and no blue blanket. This is Maggie's personal Hurricane Katrina. It's nap time. There is screaming in the background and Papa sounds a little stressed during the messages. Ugly. I immediately stop what I'm doing to end their drama. I grab my van keys, offer a quick apology and head home to find "wankie".

Now, isn't that ironic? A scene right out of one of her books. I haven't interviewed the shop owner, I haven't really interviewed the writer - though I was asking loads of questions- and the role of mom jerks me right back to my peanut-butter-smeared, Dora-dominated reality. While I was disappointed to leave without saying good-bye, I figured the mother of 4 and the woman who wrote some funny books about just such circumstances would totally understand.

Etc., Etc., Etc.

Lots of lose ends.

First here is the response I received today from Parade Magazine. I am not hopeful the columnist will ever address the "trendiness of international adoption" again. Apparently, enough angry families wrote in that they generated a form letter response.

Dear Reader,

Thank you kindly for your recent letter regarding last Sunday’s Personality PARADE item on international adoption. We sincerely regret that the item troubled you; we certainly did not intend to disparage the millions of caring families who have chosen to adopt children from abroad. We have forwarded your comments to our columnist, and we will take them into consideration as we report on future articles on adoption.

Thank you again for writing. We value our readers’ opinions greatly; you help us make a better magazine.

Sincerely,

Reader Service Department
PARADE Magazine

******************
Day 3 of Magster's Porcelain Adventure went extremely well. She had only one minor accident. We purchased 14 new panties as she needs back ups for preschool. She chose Princess panties, Dora panties and Hello Kitty panties. And she insisted on carrying them to the counter at Target all by herself. The checker, obviously experienced in such purchases, congratulated the Magster, who just beamed in reply. I have put the diapers away and we are going with all panties all the time, except at bedtime, of course. I am still in shock she potty trained herself.
********************

La Nina decided not to take a nap today and I decided to let her give it a shot. She is almost 4 for crying out loud. She did great until 5pm and then she went bad. Real bad. She ended up getting sent to her room for the night at 6:30. She was out by 7pm. Hmmmm....may be that isn't such a bad thing.

***********************

Great Start to Porcelain Adventures

Sometimes there are so many stories to tell that it is hard to decide what to write. But this weekend, it is easy. Yesterday, the Magster woke up from her nap and announced she wanted to go potty.

Accustomed to lots of company in my most private moments, I assumed this was just another girl thing that involved me sitting and the Magster chatting. However when we got the porcelain throne the Magster began taking off her diaper. Shocked, I offered assistance. I moved a stool around for her and positioned her on the big potty. Low and behold, the Magster did the sitting and I did the chatting. Let's just say it was a very productive sit for the Magster. I was stunned. I made a huge deal about it. When I tried to put her diaper back on her, she told me "No. I pee-pee in potty."

I wasn't quite sure what to do. This was so sudden. So, unexpected. We hadn't even tried this for weeks. But she had been interested in the Potty Book and she does hate being wet. I put her in a pull-up, figuring it was a safe fall back position. About 30 minutes later, when La Nina got up from a nap, headed for the potty, the Magster followed, and let's just say, it was a repeat performance. She stayed dry for the rest of the evening, despite the fact we went out to dinner.

I assumed this whole potty thing would be history today. But again, I was wrong. She asked for panties early this morning. I'm not a fan of pull-ups, so today I pulled out some old-fashion training pants (just thick cotton, no plastic), and she wore them all day. She only had two accidents and both were caused by extreme distraction. Unfortunately she picked a very busy weekend to start this potty thing and the accidents were more my fault than hers. I'm not used to this! She also came to me twice and asked to go potty, and was productive both times. (I initiated several trips, which were also productive, but the fact she came to me...yikes...this could be serious).

So, tomorrow, me and the Magster are going shopping for panties. Size 2. Her choice, Dora, Princess, Bob the Builder...I care not. My little one could have potty trained herself at 2 years and 3 months. I'm stunned. Of course, this means I will never be qualified to give out potty training advise, because if this sticks...and I am still only cautiously optimistic...Then Maggie will only be 4 weeks behind her sister in terms of the accomplishment. And I clearly had it easy in this department of parenthood.

Really, I'm a Trendsetter?

A recent letter that appeared Parade Magazine asked why people like Angelia Jolie and Meg Ryan were going overseas when "so many babies" were available here in the US. In a nutshell, the answer, given by a Parade columnist, was that international adoption is "trendy".

Here is a copy of the letter to the editor that I sent to Parade.

To Whom It May Concern:

My husband and I are one of those people who decided to adopt internationally, and I can assure you being trendy was the last thing on our minds.

Prior to adopting internationally, we went to a private attorney to inquire about a domestic adoption of a child. My criteria was simple: healthy and under the age of 1, race was not an issue for me. Trust me, the picture painted by the attorney sent me running to adopt outside of the country. Drug addicted birth mothers, birth mothers who changed their mind and potential mental illnesses were actually greater among the babies available for adoption in the US than babies available outside the US.

There was no way I was signing up for a process so full of pitfalls. Call me timid, call me shallow, call me trendy, but for some reason, it seems I live in a country that has no desire to protect my interests as an adoptive parent, so why on earth take such a tremendous emotional risk? I admire the heck out of all the people who do adopt here. They weighed the risks and benefits and made a decision. I respect that. In fact, in my experience, parents of domestic adoptees equally respect my decision. The people I find most critical have never experienced the joy of adoption.

Further, I suggest before you call my decision 'trendy', you come see my life with two kids. If driving a mini-van, in peanut butter smeared jeans with time to barely comb my hair in the morning is trendy, than I am the height of fashion. I have no idea why Angelina Jolie and Meg Ryan chose to adopt internationally. But I doubt trends had anything to do with it. And besides once their kids are home, Angelina and Meg are just working Moms lugging their babies about town like everyone else.

Your columnist made a very offensive and grave mistake. I will be watching for a retraction.