Deliverance in the shape of Granny March 8 - 28, 2005 Our son requires a full time entertainment schedule, while I have been filling up into Hippo dimensions

	Tom signaling for a train

	Tom, K.C. and our neighbor granny Julie on a train

Exactly following our plan, we drove out to Felton on a Tuesday after Tom's name day, to get on the train. Our neighbor granny Julie discovered a waiting room for children next to the gift shop, where our boys spent a fruitful half hour before the train's departure, playing with a model railroad. Although Tom still does not quite understand that a train is supposed to ride on the rails, the more vigorously he pushed cars through tunnels and into their depots, cranked the handle to a water pump, and generally subjected the model to a systematic technical inspection. Believe it or not, he did not break anything.

Then we went outside to watch complicated dances with a steam engine -- connecting the cars, pumping water and such -- all that with much steam hissing, bell tolling, and steam whistle blowing. Tom was at the same time frightened and fascinated by all the noise, and in quieter moments threw tantrums, for he demanded to be immediately allowed to board the train, which was not allowed while they prepared it. During eventual getting on, it was my turn to become upset -- some important woman forbade me to take Tom's stroller along, making thus my life miserable for the following one and half hour.

I had prepared all possible things in the stroller for a long train ride -- from warm clothing (train goes through a cold, damp redwood forest) over toys to the heaviest caliber to pacify a toddler: food. Without a stroller, all that had freely dispersed all over wooden benches we were sitting on, and I had to spend most of the ride by restraining my buckling Tom from jumping out of windows or down the stairs -- and from kicking my stomach if at all possible. If I had a chance to strap him to his stroller and entertain him at least partially with lunch, there would be two fewer hysterical customers when the ride ended. Lesson learned in crisis: should I have doubts whether Tom can cope with an attraction, better stay away. And I won't have some women tell me how to keep my child safe. Due to complications with Tom I can report neither on how interesting this logging railroad was, nor about the peculiarities of local steam engines. I only recall that they had been preserved since end of 19th century, when they were built specially to pull heavy logs through steep slopes.

	Spring California Poppies at Pinnacles

	Our walk at Pinnacles was not very taxing, but still quite bucolic

Eventually our horrible ride came to its end and Tommy became agitated again. Our lively and merry kid had his lunch on a meadow and then chased local nosy ducks. He simply demanded to RUN, not sit and listen to lectures. His nine months older buddy K.C., on the other hand, had enjoyed the train ride with shining eyes and has been falling asleep while eating. Sometimes their age difference is very noticeable, when their reactions to the same situation contrast so much.

Perhaps it has to do with Tom being more interested in aircraft than trains. There is an international airport some ten miles from our home, and whenever wind blows in the wrong direction, airliners turn for final approach above our back yard. Regardless what he's been doing, Tom does not miss a single one of them -- he became expert in spotting tiny freckles in the sky, and usually follows them until then drop out of sight.

To make it up to Tom, for the unfortunate attempt with the train, we took him to our nearest small airport (RHV: Reid Hillview, San Jose). The advantage of such an airport (as opposed to international giants) is their easy accessibility; a mere mortal can get all the way to hangars, runways, and to cessnas and helicopters parked there. Tommy's enthusiasm lasted well over an hour, while we were watching the busy airport traffic. Most of the time he sat on Sid's shoulders (he holds on to parents like a tick in any unknown environment) -- and did not jump, made no mischief, did not run away -- simply an example of a well behaved child on a family outing.

This year's first day of spring moved me definitely and finally into the category of old mothers. We usually don't celebrate our birthdays much, though I received a few presents anyway. I must say that Sid prepared the greatest surprise, for he reacted to my bickering that with Tom I cannot even get around to shop for my pregnancy clothes; he gave me trousers and a T-shirt. The most curious thing is how he fit my size so precisely. He said it was easy -- he took them off the rack and measured it against his belly and waistline. Most people get a good laugh from the idea of my Hippo checking out pregnancy wear next to his body. Considering the fact that I still remain about one head less tall, and still (hopefully) at least one third less massive than Sid, it is me who's panicking now, what possible sizes I may grow into during this pregnancy, when I'm already (literally) comparable to a Hippo.

	Look, a leaf floats!

	Tom must congratulate himself how nicely his rocks splash

Another present for me, though late by a day, was arrival of our grandmother Lída. I admit that after having spent two weeks with Tom practically on my own (Sid worked overtime), I counted hours to her landing at SFO. Not that I could put my feet up on my desk, for that I collected a pretty bunch of errands I had to run (optometrist, dentist, some shopping), but still it has been a relief, not being the only family member who's got to answer when Tom is wailing at the door again and asking to go out.

Tom has been worse than a dog -- if it were up to him, he would spend all waking hours outdoors. When we return home, he performs heartbreaking scenes, and our neighbors must think by now that behind our front door, we hide at least a very sophisticated torture machine. Getting out comes more and more difficult to me, for I have advanced into the aquarial stage of my pregnancy. An incompressible bowl in place of my former waist hinders me from common acts -- putting on shoes, panties, clipping my toenails, wiping out our floors, collecting scattered toys, fishing Tom out of a pond, unloading our dishwasher and laundry washer, getting into my car, getting up from sitting on a sofa, turning in my sleep (besides, I can sleep neither on my stomach nor on my back, and from always sleeping on my sides, I have got bruised hips and shoulders), taking Tom down from jungle gyms, picking up and placing the same on fences and walls, as well as intercepting him at forbidden places. The faster and more secure he is on his feet, the more I wheeze and huff and puff, because little missy claims ever larger part of my oxygen supply, blood stream capacity, and internal space. It has been much harder to tolerate Tom jumping in my lap (his expressions of affections are sometimes quite brutal); his favorite game, when I squat down and he runs into my arms, has a few time ended in a collapsed heap of limbs -- the large aquarium (commercial size: one Hippo) has dislocated my center of gravity, and I have been much less stable than usual. I have to take it from the brighter side and hope that so much living space would please our little girl so much that she would not try to escape before her term.

	Granny supervises our egg collection...

	Tom wonders how it's going to be to have a baby sister.

So far I have been trying, during this pregnancy, to be as careful as possible, and eliminate all thinkable risks. This means that I had sentenced myself, and subsequently the rest of our family, to practically never leaving home. We would not dare on any long or complicated trips far from civilization, only one day drives in our neighborhood. E.g. we took grandmother to Pinnacles. She was sent up on an elevated hike, while we, with regard to our one and half child, dragged on a flat trail along a creek. Even so, my breath was fast -- one of my pregnancy ailments is a pinched sciatic nerve, and I can advance only with small steps -- which is quite adequate pace for walks with Tom, but not trips with Hippo, and at all not acceptable for our frisky retiree.

Tommy right at the beginning had refused to leave the parking lot and adjoining miracles of nature (e.g. waste bins, pavement, curbs, restrooms, creek), so he had to be mercilessly stuffed into his carrier and -- carried away. We tried to compensate him for all that suffering by releasing him onto a small meadow, where the creek had accumulated a layer of pebbles in a bend. I admit that I spread out on a hillside and allowed Sid, for once, to enjoy oscillating with our kid. Tom is quite content with just a few yards of space, but since this here space included the above mentioned creek, a pedestrian bridge and the small hillside, one adult had enough to cover. Besides intercepting a few attempts of jumping into water, Sid managed to show Tom that rocks thrown into the creek splash and sink, while leaves and twigs swim, and similar miracles. Walking back, we let Tom use his feet, at least part time, although he multiplied it -- most bridges had to be run over at least ten times; he had to double back to every hole, rock or bush... Sid had shown incredible patience, though toward the end perspired visibly. This oscillating kind of march must have exhausted our baby -- who fell asleep in the car perhaps before we reached first turn on our drive home.

	A bag of fleas would be easier to photograph, than four boys in action.

This year's last March holiday was Easter. We don't really celebrate anything with Sid, as we usually pay little attention (there's no Monday off here -- just a regular weekend). As far as we observe Christmas customs and enjoy them, we simply don't miss Easter -- and especially Czech Easter customs. This year, however, we have decided to celebrate it with Tommy the American way. We like the local custom which has the Easter Bunny hide eggs in your back yard, for the kids to find them. We did not complicate things with the bunny much, but I placed a few plastic egg-shell "stuffed" with mommy's treats in our private jungle. Tommy was rather suspicious -- and he should be, for on the street I scold him for picking up colorful litter, and suddenly we would want him to hurl himself onto luringly arranged eggs with enthusiasm! Moreover, airplanes were right then flying over us one after another, being much greater attraction that mere earthly delights. Well, at least later at home our junior played a bit the empty shells -- opening, closing, hiding objects inside them etc.

	Tommy is not playing fair by looking for eggs in somebody else's basket...

On Monday Sid left for work and I have organized a congregation of mothers and boys in our house. I invited Petra with Lukas and Veronica, and Ivana with little Mark. And because we did not have enough boys, we got joined by Julie and K.C. It surprised me how nice all the boys were (Verunka is a small baby, I did not expect any mischief from her), for they mostly kept to themselves. True, we mothers sometimes had to raise our voices to hear each other, for our young men were exploring all push buttons and often managed to trigger all Tom's sound-equipped toys at the same time, while banging on to something (like with a toy segment on an empty tin can), but besides all the din, everything went fine. At some times I would not find a single toddler in sight, while at others I had a feeling there were eight of them with me in the same room, but in the final roll call we discovered no loss of life or limb, not even a scratch, on any of the kids!

	Being with other children enriches: who would think that Tom barters his car for a stroller with the nearest girl, and then spends an hour and half devotedly circling around the playground.

When it stopped raining for a while, we organized yet another round of egg hunting in our back yard. Little Mark was probably the most successful kid, as he intently collected eggs in his basked and did not slow down by checking out their contents. Tom demanded for each egg to be opened and its contents devoured (in edible cases), before he turned on to the next one. A few times, I had to pull him away from someone else's basket -- he apparently concluded that it was simpler to re-collect fruits of others' work than to bodily wade through our jungle. Even so this taxing morning had tired him out -- our Omnivore (!!!) began to fall asleep, once our guests had left, without demanding a wholesome meal for lunch!

Tom must be getting much more entertaining stimuli from his friends and grandmother than from his boring mother; he keeps learning new and new things. He is also much easier to be around, if he has had a proper chance to run outside, hence I strive to keep his schedule full. Once a week we go out with our neighbors, once a week with my Czech friends, once a week he has a swimming lesson with Sid. I tried to take Tom to a book reading session in our library, but it lacked "action", well, we may try again later. I'm curious whether our girl is going to be less into exploring drains, and more into sitting and listening to fairy tales -- I wonder if it's gender or character.

Copyright © 2005 by Carol & Sid Paral. All rights reserved.