Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Potty training

The twins are 3+ and the daycare ladies keep bugging me about this, so I realized a couple of weeks ago that it was really time. I decided that the first step would be to get rid of the diapers.

So on a Monday morning, after taking off their pajamas and nighttime diapers, I proceeded to put them in... nothing! Actually I put shirts on them. But no diapers, no undies, no pants. Bare bottoms only. They cried and begged for diapers, but I was firm. I said "when you need to go pee or poop, either go in your potty or go outside." And they did really well, only one accident that first day and nothing after that. They like to pee on the patio, preferably inches from the door, and I frown on that, but otherwise no problems.

Our yard is awful -- ouchy things everywhere -- but they've been walking barefoot in it for a while now, so I figure they can walk stark naked in it too. I draw the line at the gate, though. They can sit stark naked next to the gate and play with toy trucks, but they can't go into the front yard like that. That means no stroller walks for a while, but it's OK.

After a week or two of this, I tried to figure out how to move on to the next step: underwear. They are still wearing diapers to go to daycare in the afternoon. I want them to start wearing underwear in the morning, then underwear and shorts, and then eventually go to daycare like that. But first we have to introduce underwear. I had bought some plain white underwear a long time ago (maybe a year? how embarrassing), because I am a snob (or at least a would-be snob) and I did not want my children to wear underwear with licensed characters on it. They wear the white underwear occasionally, but when I brought it out again last week, they said NO. NO underwear. "I don't like underwear," said Baby B. Baby A put a pair on his head.

So then I rethought licensed character underwear. And when we were in LA this past weekend, we went to Target and I bought a package with 7 pairs of THOMAS TRAIN underwear. Baby B was so excited about it that he opened the package in the car and played with all the undies. On Monday when we took off the nighttime diapers, all they wanted to do was to put on Thomas Train underwear. Success!

Or sort of. First they each put on a pair. Then they each put on a second pair, over the first. Then they both peed in their underwear. All the Thomas Train underwear had to come off and go in the laundry. Then they ran around naked for a while.

Today when they got up, they wanted to wear Thomas Train underwear, but I reminded them that they had peed in 4 pairs of it and I hadn't washed it yet (I washed it today). I offered the 3 remaining pairs, which are less cute. Baby B made the best of it and put on a pair. Baby A thought about it for a long time, put on a pair, took them off again, and then put them on his head.

Pretty soon they were both stark naked, playing with cars right by the gate where all the neighbors can see them.

It's a process. Someday they will be (potty-trained) teenagers and I can tell them all about this. Meanwhile, I am going to order some Elmo underwear.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Swimming again

The Ridgecrest pool has opened -- no, I shouldn't say that, I have no idea when the real Ridgecrest pool is going to open -- but the Oasis Pool on base has finally opened, so we went there today to swim. Only people who work on base (and their immediate families) can go there. It's an OK pool, I guess, but the real attraction for us is that there is also a very small wading pool.

I was hoping the boos could still wear last year's swim diapers, but nope, they've outgrown them. So before we left, I got online and ordered FOUR new swim diapers, in the next bigger size. One blue, one green, one yellow, and one red. They're supposed to be here by Friday. In the meantime we could use disposable swim diapers.

We got to the pool around 3:30 pm. It was warm, but the wind had started to blow. The attendant asked both Rocket Boy and me to sign in, and then we had to pay $1 each (boos were free). The process of being admitted to the pool is very mysterious. I think this is the first time I've ever had to sign in. Maybe once before Rocket Boy has had to. Sometimes it costs as much as $5 for me, sometimes we're both free. Ours not to reason why.

Then we all walked around the building to the wading pool and what do you know? There's a sign in front of it saying "Closed for Maintenance." I hate Ridgecrest and I hate China Lake Naval Base. Can't get ANYTHING right. We later asked one of the lifeguards what kind of "maintenance" the 5 ft by 5 ft wading pool needed. He said they needed to get the chlorine level right.

So, since we'd paid our $2 and promised the boos a swim, we decided to swim in the big pool. I got the boos and me changed, and we went out to meet Rocket Boy. He climbed into the pool, the shallow end, and then we began trying to convince the twins that it would be fun to go in the water. These are boys who were taking swimming lessons when they were 6 months old. But would they go in? No, they wouldn't. They screamed and cried when it was suggested. The most we got them to do was to sit next to me with their legs in the water for about two seconds.

The rest of the time they ran around the pool area. And I do mean "ran." And consequently got whistled at and yelled at by the lifeguards pretty much nonstop. I got out of the pool and walked after them, shouting "No run! Walk! No running! Stop running and walk! No Sesame Street if you don't stop running! OK, that's one!" all to absolutely no avail. I grabbed Baby B's arm at one point and made him re-do a journey he had just run, only we walked it. Then we walked some more. Then I let go of his arm and he ran, as lifeguard whistles blew.

This was one of the few times in my life so far that I wished I would be mistaken for their grandmother. A grandmother might be excused for not being able to make her grandsons behave. But a mom?

It occurred to me, watching them, that in their non-pool life they run all the time too. They almost don't know how to walk. Maybe that was the problem.

Rocket Boy thought it would be a good idea to get the little ball and ring we'd brought with us and have the twins throw them to him in the water and then he'd throw them back. Oh, what a bad idea that was! as two little boys go RUNNING after the ball. Finally he wised up and threw the ball and ring in the water close to them, so they had to get down on their stomachs and grab them out of the water. But there was still plenty of running going on.

And we hadn't put any sunscreen on either them or me, because the wading pool is covered and you don't get any sun there.

At 4:30 I just gave up. I said, "It's time to go." Rocket Boy said, "Oh, not yet, they're still having fun."

Fortunately at that point Baby B took his swim diaper off (amid much laughter from the lifeguards), so I whisked him off to the dressing room and got both him and me changed. When we came out again, Rocket Boy was still playing with Baby A, but I said "Just Get Out," and he did.

While I was changing Baby A, Baby B ran outside again, and when he returned, a lifeguard was following him. I said, "What did he do?" and she said "Oh, he just keeps running. We don't want them to fall down and get hurt, you know." I said, "Yes, I know," wanting to remind her about ALL THE TIMES I had yelled "No run!" But I bit my tongue.

We went out to wait for Rocket Boy, and the boos ran some more. Then they jumped on some chaise lounges, and a lifeguard made a special trip over to tell us that wasn't allowed.

I'm thinking maybe I should just send those swim diapers back. It's going to be a long summer.

Saturday, May 21, 2011

The real world and how to hide it

I read a nice book last year called Simplicity Parenting, liked it very much, and one of its recommendations was to keep "the real world" away from your kids until they're old enough to handle it. Don't discuss world news with them when they're 5. Don't tell them someone's sick and going to die if they don't need to know. Don't ask their opinion about your money problems. Sounds like a good idea, right?

In theory, sure. But in practice... Well, we almost never watch the news around them, and our discussions of news tend to be pretty boring (mostly criticisms of Republicans). But then there are children's books. I got a book out of the library for them last week about fire fighting, since they love fire trucks and firefighters. I didn't look at it very closely. Turns out the book (Hotshots by Chris Demarest) is actually very scary. It has beautiful pictures of a fire being started by sparks from a train -- in an area that looks very much like California. Then the fire grows enormous and spreads and burns down houses. Baby A wants to hear it every night. Baby B is clearly frightened by it. The whole time I'm reading it he's murmuring "Fire is scary." I think it's going to be due next week (2 weeks early) and I'll look more closely at what I'm checking out next time.

When we go out and about on all our road trips we often encounter "the real world" and it's a bit hard to keep it away from the boys. Especially since I don't think on my feet very well. For example, a few weeks ago we visited the ghost town of Ballarat, which is in the Panamint Valley, on the road to Death Valley. It was hot and barren. Here we are having root beer and water outside the Ballarat Store.


Rocket Boy and I discussed the fact that the Manson gang hid out near Ballarat at one time, and their old truck is still in the middle of town, rusting away. That was probably OK, since we didn't mention what the Manson gang was known for. But then we wandered over to the Ballarat cemetery. Here they are looking at the grave of Seldom Seen Slim, a famous prospector from the area:


The grave had some mementos on it -- an empty whisky bottle, and a hat, and a lot of coins that people apparently throw on it -- maybe like a desert wishing well? The boys were messing around trying to grab the coins through the bars and I scolded them, telling them that this was a grave and they shouldn't mess with it. "What's a grave, Mommy?" "A grave is where they bury a dead person. There's a dead person right under the dirt here." Eyes widen. Oops. We quickly leave.

On the home front, we have learned that our rental house is going into foreclosure soon, and Rocket Boy and I have discussed this at length in the boys' hearing. It's not really a crisis for us, more of an intense irritation, because we don't want to sign another 12-month lease in Ridgecrest (we're month to month in this house), nor do we want to move WITHIN Ridgecrest -- we want to move AWAY FROM Ridgecrest. But if we have to, we will.

But for the boys? This is their home. I doubt whether they have any memories of the Boulder house -- we moved here when they were 11 months old and have only been back once for a few days. So for them the thought of losing their only home must be very upsetting. On the other hand, maybe our talk is preparing them, because it looks like a move is inevitable -- we just keep hoping Rocket Boy will find a new job elsewhere before we have to leave the house.

So I don't know how you keep the real world away from little kids. We could probably try a little harder! But it does seem to creep back in...

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Belated thoughts on Mother's Day

Once again I've gotten away from blogging. I don't know quite how that happens, or what triggers it. Why haven't I wanted to write for 2 weeks? I don't know.

In my last post I asked summer to go away, and sure enough, it did. We've had cold weather (enough to require long pants, long-sleeved shirts, and coats, of all things), we've had endless wind, we've had rain. Tomorrow, finally, it's supposed to get to all of 83 degrees. This is downright peculiar for Ridgecrest in mid-May. I suppose it's because the world is ending this weekend.

I wanted to write something about Mother's Day, and I wonder if that wasn't what shut me up a few weeks ago -- the difficulty in writing about the day. It's a funny day for me. It's a sad day, because my own mother is gone. And yet, when she was alive, she was not very fond of the holiday, and we didn't make a big deal out of it. A tasteful card was enough.

When MY children get a little older, I plan to make a VERY big deal out of it. Cards will be expected, also gifts, breakfast in bed, and I would like to be taken out to brunch. Ha ha. Not very likely. But we'll see.

We had a nice Mother's Day this year. We went to Olancha for "brunch" (it was really just lunch) and the boos behaved themselves quite well. Fortunately the scary rabbit was gone, packed away with the other Easter decorations. On our way back to Ridgecrest we stopped at the Pearsonville Park and played on the equipment. Rocket Boy found a piece of charcoal lying around and wrote a Mother's Day message to me on the concrete. Graffitti, I know, but it'll wear away. I liked it very much.

What I actually think about on Mother's Day is all the years that I wanted to be a mother, and what a desperately sad holiday Mother's Day was for me back then. And now here I am with my heart's desire. Which has turned out to be a little different than what I expected. I'm thinking of the song in the musical "Wicked" that goes like this:

...That's why I couldn't be happier
No, I couldn't be happier
Though it is, I admit
The tiniest bit
Unlike I anticipated
But I couldn't be happier
Simply couldn't be happier
(spoken) Well - not "simply":
(sung) 'Cause getting your dreams
It's strange, but it seems
A little - well - complicated
There's a kind of a sort of : cost
There's a couple of things get: lost
There are bridges you cross
You didn't know you crossed
Until you've crossed...

Which is not to say that motherhood isn't amazing and wonderful, because it is, and I love my little men more than anything. But the cost of motherhood was higher than I ever thought it would be, and in some ways I think I'm still grappling with that. So every Mother's Day ends up being a time to think about it.

There are bridges you cross you didn't know you crossed until you've crossed...

There's a part of me that's still holding on to the railing of the bridge, saying "no! wait! didn't mean to cross this!" but it's much too late, I'm here.

The bad times are when I don't want to cook dinner, and the daycare teacher pulls me aside YET AGAIN to ask me why the twins aren't potty trained yet, and Baby A bites Baby B, and Baby B draws all over some important piece of paper, and Rocket Boy says "why is the house always such a mess?"

That's when I remember that I used to have a CAT. Just a CAT. Just me and my CAT.

The good times are when we go to a park and everyone has fun playing, and when we go for a stroller walk and see a rabbit, and when we read book after book after book together, and when they go to bed and they both want me to kiss them and then they want to kiss me.

That's when I remember that I'm so glad I have a family. And that maybe, just maybe, I can do this.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Summer is coming, as are summer clothes

Summer is here, at least for the moment. It's supposed to be a little cooler next week, but this week it's in the 90s, and as usual I can't quite deal with it yet. I'm dopey and lazy. This afternoon around 4:30 I was lying on my bed reading, ignoring the fact that it was almost time to get the twins and I hadn't started dinner, when Rocket Boy called and offered to bring home dinner. I said "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!"

I still don't understand what he brought -- soft tortillas with banana inside and chocolate sauce and whipped cream on top -- or where he got them -- it sounded as though one of his co-workers made them? Is that possible? And it was a pretty weird thing to have for dinner. But I ate it willingly. The first of many weird summer meals. It's so hard to think of something to have for dinner when it's over 100 degrees, i.e., June, July, August, and September.

The coming of summer means the coming of summer clothes too. I lucked out this year with the boys -- most of last year's clothes fit them just fine (because they were too big for them last year). I don't need to buy them any new shorts. I've bought a few t-shirts, but not many. Even last year's sandals fit much better this year. I'll have to see whether their swim diapers still fit or not.

Summer clothes for me are more of a problem. I have a fatter stomach this year than last, due to some digestive issues I've been having, and I'm not supposed to wear constricting clothes. So I'm going through my old shorts and capri pants, trying to figure out which ones have loose enough waistbands. I may wear more skirts this summer. I've even ordered a few dresses.

The fashion colors for summer seem to be (a) white and (b) black. I've never looked good in white, but a white skirt can be topped by a colorful tank top. Black, on the other hand... for summer? for Ridgecrest summer? Last weekend we were in Palmdale and I tried on clothes at Macy's. They had a nice full cotton skirt -- but it was black. Standing there looking at myself in the mirror, I conjured up Ridgecrest in August... and immediately took the skirt off.

When it's 107 degrees, you don't want a black thing touching your skin.

We don't have our swamp cooler running yet -- the guy is supposed to come by Saturday to do it. The house gets so hot. And all I want to do is lie around.

May 5th. Not ready to do this yet. Please summer, go away.

Before I end my ramblings for tonight, I want to give a big welcome to the newest member of our family, my little grandniece Marisel, born this morning. We're looking forward to meeting her in a month!

Sunday, May 1, 2011

End of an era

So tonight we were watching some more of the Royal Wedding (which we'd recorded), but we were of course both also on our computers. Not multi-tasking, maybe multi-recreating? Rocket Boy, looking at Google News, said "Oh, Obama's giving a talk this evening, maybe even right now."

"Do you want to watch it? We can turn off the wedding," I offered generously.

Rocket Boy searched the online TV guide and found CNN, and that's when we heard the news about Osama bin Laden's assassination. Almost 10 years after 9/11, the man is finally gone. We're still watching the TV coverage. There doesn't seem to be very much to say, but they keep saying it over and over and we both kind of want to hear it over and over.

I got kind of teary when they talked about 9/11. But the news reporters got it wrong, I think. They keep saying, "When 9/11 happened, everyone's immediate reaction was anger!"

Anger? That's not what I remember. I remember feeling so terribly terribly sad, unable to get the images of the planes crashing into the towers out of my mind, thinking of all the people who died. Such scary awful deaths, trapped in those impossibly tall buildings. I remember the people who jumped out of windows rather than wait to die. All the firefighters trapped in the buildings, trying to save other people.

Maybe I'm forgetting, but I just don't remember anger. Oh, I know, some people were probably immediately angry, and there was certainly a lot of anger later on, but I think in the beginning it was just devastating sadness.

They keep showing video clips of Osama bin Laden, and what keeps striking me, totally inappropriately, is how good-looking he was when he was younger. Those bedroom eyes. Everything is always so complicated.

So odd that it would be Obama who would get Osama, when Bush wanted to get him soooo badly.

I'm glad they caught him, I'm relieved that he's gone. But I don't feel like celebrating.

I'm just remembering the 9/11 attacks and once again mourning those who were lost.