A Frog Funeral

This evening we had a funeral for our frog, Tahoe.

Tahoe had been with us since our camping trip in August 2006. She stowed away in our luggage and when we discovered her, we did what any good parents would do: we purchased a terrarium, small water dish, some plants and her first meal of live crickets from the local pet store. For the first few months, our frog seemed to have been thriving. She grew a bit and then changed color. She had a hearty appetite---even eating the extra large crickets that she was occasionally fed. Last weekend when my mom was here for a visit, a curious thing happened. S was noticing that she was not moving as much as normal. He leaned closer to the terrarium to get a better look. Suddenly, the frog let out a loud shriek and keeled over.

The hardest part was telling Miss M.

This evening we laid Tahoe to rest in a tiny cardboard coffin. We buried her by the tree ferns and M decorated a marker with her name on it. We also made one for Pyro since he never had a formal burial.

Great Moments in Parenting

In the car ride back from our outing this afternoon in the East Bay, C starting screaming out of the blue. I turned my head around in time to catch him projectile vomiting all over the back of the seat, himself and everything else within a 6" radius.
He narrowly missed his disgusted sister: "Ew, buddy, you stink!" Poor little guy. Who knew?

Naturally we were stuck in bridge traffic on the 80 so it wasn't like we could pull over. I had to laugh.

Poor C, he has had a rough time of it lately. He's been clinging to me like a barnacle for the past 3 days and has not let me out of his sight...gets upset if I so much as take a bathroom break. This morning he begged me for scrambled eggs. When I delivered them, he cried and screamed and threw them on the floor. For the first time in my parental life, I turned him over my knee and swatted him several times on his well-padded bottom. (yes, I spanked him--shudder, shudder) I was mad and frustrated. I'm convinced that it did not actually hurt him, just startled him. No, I'm not proud of my actions. Had I known he was actually sick and not just being impossibly difficult, perhaps I'd have had more sympathy for his situation.

Renewal

First of all, I apologize for not keeping up with this blog. When the changeover occured to google, I admit that I choked.
It has been far too long, but I'm happy to say that I'm back.

So, here's the latest at The Beehive:

We're officially "reviewing our options". That is to say, if you check out my blog posting from December of '06 "Can We Afford to Stay Here" I lament about The City and how expensive it has gotten to maintain our lifestyle with 2 kids. Right around the time of that posting, my stroller was stollen, our garage was broken into, my car was broken into and my backpack w/ cell phone and favorite knit hat stollen (plus a lot of children's music CD's and 5 or 6 Pullups-not that anyone would care) The good news is that my wallet was tucked away safely in my jacket pocket at the time which I was wearing.

Phew.

I've been thinking about the idea that I'd like to have a little less stress in my life. A few more trees and a few less bums would be nice. I'm tired of living next to the freeway and hearing police cars at 2 am. I'm tired of worrying about our chances of getting our kids into some of the better public elementary schools only to have to go through this process all over again in a few years for Middle school and then again for H.S. I'd like to stay put and I'd like things to be easier. I'd like to see our kids ride bikes up and down our block. I'd like to be able to access the city (and Berkeley!) without living in the thick of it and dealing with the problems it has.
I've lived here for 18 years but maybe I'd like to spend my forties (yes, forties!) an possibly fifties (shudder, gasp!) somewhere else. I'm ready for change--excited, in fact.

Well, this morning we checked out some houses for sale in Albany. We have a real estate agent interested in sending us listings and we saw some sweet houses on tree-lined blocks....so it begins again.

Next visit we check out Berkeley and visit some schools.

The Saga Continues

My parents are on the decline. Last week my dad fell on the ice by the mailbox and broke his arm. He was unable to get up and a neighbor who was driving by had to help lift him. My mother has no idea how long he'd been out there, lying on the ground in the cold. Then, it took my mother more than 3 hours to convince him to go to the hospital where he could be checked out and fitted for a splint. None of this he remembers.

When asked why his arm hurt he says, "I dunno. I think my wife hit me and I've a good mind to hit her back"

This would be kind of funny if it weren't so tragic.

Every day we are receiving about 10-15 emails from my mother complaining about his behavior towards her.
The sad part is that her solution is to neglect or punish him.
She is so angry at him that she makes the situation worse by belittling him and yelling at him and then reminding him that he's sick and cannot remember things. This makes him angry and sets him off.

Here's a typical email excerpt after my mom had to remove his ring because his arm was swollen. He discovered it was missing from his hand and wanted it back on: "When I had enough I yelled back, walked out and left him to his own devises! I haven't started his supper yet and I have no intention of giving him back that ring until the swelling goes down in his hand! If he were the child he is acting like I would have sent him to his room until he apologized! He NEVER says he's sorry; why should he? At least if he fell I could leave him on the floor. I hate depriving him of food but I have to do something to let him know he can not treat me this way and expect me to keep doing things for him!..... "

Maybe the trouble is that she's not treating him like a patient; an old man with Dementia. She's treating him like her annoying, abusive husband, whom she resents for putting her through this. Apparently, when he falls down she is dragging him from room to room.

She wants us to tell him to appreciate her. "What he needs is a male (D or R) to 'talk Turkey' to him and tell him how lucky he is to have me helping him! You and I don't count: we're 'only' females. "

Here's another disturbing one: "I got Dad to bed but no shower: it's been more than a week since he's had one . . . He said tomorrow but that's what he said yesterday and . . ."

What?!?! My father has not showered for a week?!? Are you freaking kidding me? My mother is clearly not taking care of him. This is not good.

Much as my dad was not an easy man to live with growing up, he still deserves to be cared for and treated with a certain level of dignity.

My brother D and his wife C went out there for lunch yesterday. "The situation is not good" they reported. He has stopped eating and his skin looks grey and he is bone thin. They managed to get him to shower and help him dress. Next they sat my mother down and convinced her to meet with some home caretakers. That will happen this week. We are also trying to convince her to at least consider visiting an assisted living facility.

In a few months my dad will be 80.

If You're Happy and You Know it..

For the first time in about a year I am feeling really, really happy.

I am attributing this rush of good feelings to the fact that C has started at the toddler co-op this week.

I have to admit, I was pretty cynical about the place from the beginning (probably owing to the fact that we applied with M when she was 14mo and then again at 22mo and she NEVER got in. She made it into the waiting pool, but never was offered a spot) Maybe it had to do with the fact that she had a complete meltdown both times we visited or their claim that there were just "too many girls", etc. (Which I thought was a load of BS) Anyway, it's now three years later and we're back.
It's a different group of parents (less hippy-dippy than before) and C and I are both loving it. He even napped there on his second day. My first day we took the kids on a field trip to the Exploratorium, I pushed the Amish cart with 6 kids in it, made lunch for 8 people and wiped butts belonging to strangers' kids. Hard work, yes, but totally fun. C finally seems to have an outlet for his energy and a chance to socialize with new people. We are so intrinsically connected, he and I. When he's happy, all seems right with my world.

Now, to just get Miss M to stop pooping in her pants (STILL!) and we'll be golden.

M's Wedding Day

For those of you who were shocked by the graphic contents of my last post, I offer something a little more wholesome:
This is a photo of M's first marriage to a boy we shall refer to as "Murdock". Murdock came over after dinner recently so his parents could attend a ballroom dancing class. In the short span of 35 minutes, Miss M and Murdock both donned formalware (dresses and boas) and announced that they had gotten married. Although there were no formal vows nor exchange of rings, I feel pretty certain that the ceremony involved some popular key wedding reception elements including singing, hand holding, dancing and mass consumption of hot chocolate and veggie booty.

The Mating Game

There have been some interesting developments lately at the Beehive.
This was overheard in the car after a playdate:

Q: "When we grow up, I am going to marry you"
M: "Then, we can have a baby"
Q: "I have a penis and you have a big hole"
M: "Ok, but first, your penis needs to get bigger"
Q: "...and be covered in hair"
Me:...?!?!?
M: "My BUTT is covered in hair" he he heee hee hee (giggling from the back seat)

I bought M 2 books on the facts of life: "Where do I Come From" by Peter Mayle (circa 1970) and, (much easier to read without turning purple) "Mommy Laid an Egg" by Babette Cole. M was fascinated. I realized that in order to be able to read either of these books to her I had to do a little bit of creative editing. In other words, though I think it's important for her to understand how the egg and sperm meet and create life, however, I'm not quite ready for her to learn about "the funny little tickle that feels like a sneeze when mommy and daddy make love" (Peter Mayle's book) etc.
So I glossed over the parts about sex and focused on the parts about conception. I think when she's a little older I'll be better able to tackle that one. For now, she seems satisfied learning about the "great egg race" (Babette Cole's book) inside mommy's body.

My Own Brand of Craziness

I have finally lost my mind.

OK. This little image is the exact stroller that was stolen. It is no longer made. The one from the previous post is the one I ordered to replace it. They are very different, but in my haste to replace our stroller at a decent price I overlooked the fact that the new one has only a 3 point harness (rather than 5, which is much safer) no extra padding and is lacking the wonderfully convenient removable parent cupholders. No wonder it was so cheap! So, for the past 3 hours I have been trying desperately to find the closest stroller to the one that is gone, with all the same fabulous features at a low price. Combi does this annoying thing: not only do they (like most manufacturers) come out with a brand new product every year and discontinue last year's models, but they also give each stroller an almost IDENTICAL name. For example, what is the difference between the Combi City Savvy and the Combi City Savvy Select , the Combi Saavy Sport, the Combi Cosmo ST, the Combi Saavy Soho and the Combi Savvy Soho DX? Well, for starters, from the highest end to the lowest, there is a price difference of about $150!!

Maybe the real question that I need to be asking myself is: Why is this SO important to me?

I remember once, in a previous life, trying desperately find the perfect bicycle. After scouring every bike shop in the Bay Area and test driving at least 20, it never happened. I ended up buying an overpriced, clunky mountain bike that I never ride. Mostly because it's just too heavy to lug around. A stroller is different: It's (I was trying to explain this to S who thinks I've gone completely off the deep end) a personal item. I use it every day. Not only does it have to provide a cushy place for my child to rest, it needs to be easy to push, lightweight, not too tall (I'm just under 5'0) narrow enough to fit through doorways, easy to fold, not too expensive and beautiful. Um, exactly like the one that was stolen.

Is that too much to ask for?