Single-mothering on weekdays September 19 - 30, 2005 How do I cope, you ask? Sorry, I don't have time to cope, I have two kids now.

	An effectual result of personality breakdown: from one into three.

I confess that I did not look forward to the Monday September 19 at all, this being an opening day in my role of a part-time, single mother. It was not just our granny having left; Sid started in a new job and could hardly leave the house at leisurely nine-thirty, which we had gotten used to long ago and which had allowed me to keep up in the morning with luxuries like a fast breakfast and a shower. Well, I have survived it, just as I would live on through the following days. Otherwise you could not be reading this journal.

Everybody keeps asking me, how I deal with taking the kids out for a walk or shopping. To theirs and my surprise, I must say, I have been coping rather well. Once we get out / into the car / to the store, it's a piece of cake. The in-between times are the worst -- to put myself together to get out or manage to return the whole show back home; to feed the wildlife (my kids) who are losing control from hunger and fatigue; meanwhile, to retain remnants of sanity.

	Quicksilver park begins almost at our back yard; the only trouble is to find resolve for hiking uphill.

• 7:30 I get up, putting on clothes quickly.
• 7:50 I rummage in our fridge for chocolate milk, not daring to start a full breakfast in order not to wake up the kids.
• 8:00 I become anxious as the kids are not waking up; I read the Internet news.
• 8:15 Tom wakes, runs to the living room to play with his trains.
• 8:16 Tom's train hits the floor; Tom screams, waking up Lisa in the process.
• 8:17 I run for a crying Lisa.
• 8:18 Lisa has peed on a new diaper, her pajamas and a blanket that I use on the changing basinet - I throw everything on the floor.
• 8:19 Tom squeals at the refrigerator, demanding his milk, I run with naked Lisa to get her some clean clothing.
• 8:22 Lisa in a new diaper and clothes grumbles in her bouncer; I change an uncooperative Tom.
• 8:25 Lisa loses patience, screams, wants to eat. I heat up milk for Tom.
• 8:26 Tom drinks milk sitting in my nursing chair; I nurse Lisa in my office chair while reading Internet. I try not to think about the breakfast I did not have yet.
• 8:35 I put Lisa away into her bouncer, she manages to barf all over herself, my back an my chair. Tom examines carefully how his unfinished milk drips from his tilted bottle and soaks into the upholstery.
• 8:36 I wipe off my soiled hands, chair; I confiscate Tom's bottle, run for new clothes (mine, Lisa's) - I throw dirty garments on the floor.
• 8:45 I carry a basketful of laundry into our garage, where we have our washer; I brew coffee and cut my bread. Tom entertains himself by switching around sound programs on Lisa's bouncer.
• 8:50 I sit down to have a breakfast -- Tom mooches bread and runs away to play with his airplanes. Lisa slumbers.
• 8:52 Tommy has decided to express his love to sleeping Lizzy -- he pulls at her hands and pokes in her ears; Lisa awakens. I start making Tom's breakfast.
• 8:55 I yank buckling Tom into his chair, where I had prepared the same bread he mooched from me. He refuses to eat it. A diaper salvo can be heard from Lisa's bouncer.
• 9:00 naked Lisa is on the basinet, Tom with his hands smeared with buttery spread jumps out of his chair and professes me great affection - I try to wipe his hands.
• 9:05 Lisa has a new diaper and jumper (she has delivered voluminously), I swear and wipe imprints of Tom's greasy paws from my pants; I sadly watch my unfinished coffee getting cold... less than two hours had passed from the long day ahead of me, and I already feel like I deserve a stiff drink or at least a big mug full of hot NON-DECAF.

	I hope that their cooperation will last.

• change Lisa's diaper and clothes;
• nurse Lisa;
• change Tom's diaper and clothes;
• put on Tom's sunscreen;
• change own clothes;
• take a stroller out of my car's trunk and unfold it without letting Tom run into of the garage;
• set up the stroller so that Lisa can sleep in it - blankets, spares for various mishaps, and one extra as a sunshade over the canopy;
• put Tom's shoes on (his feet; by this time Lizzy usually screams already);
• pack Tom's hat and drinking bottle;
• pack Lisa's change of diapers, replacement clothes, a warmer jumpsuit, a hat against the sun, a warm cap and a carrier;
• pack water for me, a cell phone, wallet and license, glasses and a garage opener; prevent Tom from getting hold of, taking or breaking apart, any of the aforementioned objects;
• put Lisa into the stroller;
• catch Tom, who ran out of the garage into our front yard, where he rings the door bell; reassure a screaming Lisa that we are indeed about to go;
• explain to an upset Tom that I really don't intend to drag his push-car along and hence we will leave it at home;
• put my shoes on;
• cover Lisa who has kicked off her blanket, and catch Tom again, who went to check out our gas meter;
• not forget to close the garage.

	Beloved Coco

Well, there are horrible days -- for example when Lizzy is troubled by something and cries the whole day since the moment she opens her eyes, with only interruptions for nursing and ten minute naps in my embrace. And then there are days or at least fragments when we all live in an unbelievable harmony. Tom has begun to play with train sets a lot, so he easily spends two hours in a children's corner at a nearby bookstore -- if Lisa falls asleep in her stroller, I can sit down on a chair and quietly read a book. Sometimes Tom plays nicely at home -- with his trains or toy cars, I nurse and hold Lisa, and everything picks up an appearance of a complete leisure. They often both fall asleep after lunch -- and then I have time to write e-mails and journals (if I manage to ignore a heap of laundry ready for ironing, and dirty dishes in the kitchen).

	Tom cooperates when deposited in front of our TV set - surrounded by his stuffed menagerie he watches short films about steam engines.

Sometimes fortune sends me an angel. The other day, Julie with her grand-son showed up just after Tom's afternoon sleep, asking if they could borrow Tom. I was just nursing, thus agreeing to everything, and only after a while I realized that Julie led away Tom who was wearing his sweat pant partially lowered, was hungry, with snot at his nose (both K.C. and Tom had colds then), with an old diaper (I had not gotten around to it) and barefoot. Kids in our neighborhood run often barefoot, still that last detail simply completed the image of a thoroughly neglected infant. Now imagine that she did not call social services on me, she even returned Tom fed, changed, and clean. She said she remembered having her own three kids all under four years of age.

Other times, visitors show up in our house. They are either "childish" and then Tom finds some fun with their offspring (I am slightly concerned that he always picks up some female, shuts himself up in his room and pushes me out unconditionally). Or our visitors are childless, and those usually long to play with a toddler and/or hold the baby, which miraculously materializes another pair of hands and my world is suddenly brighter and less confusing. For sometimes I have a feeling that my life has become one colorful smudge of screams, dirty diapers, feeding and endless explaining (to Lisa who cannot understand anything yet, and Tom who refuses to understand), why this or that is not possible.

Sometimes Tom explains things to us. It has been surprising how direct the roads are on whose a toddler's mind wanders. You were probably never puzzled why blue reflective pods are installed in the road at certain spots. Tom, apparently a re-incarnated fireman, had immediately discovered these markings to occur in locations where also a fire hydrant is installed, showing this relationship to Sid. On a trail at Quicksilver, junior ran into a white cross spray-painted on a pavement. We do not know how he figured out that it is a sign for airplanes, but Tom stopped in mid-stride, articulated "airplane" (a hand sign indicating a propeller and a specific "hoo hoo"), then he continued running without further interference. Thus there really IS reincarnation, or Tom has been so much paying attention to airplanes that this pictogram represents a propeller to him.

	Tom likes to play

I hope that soon Tom will be able to communicate his ideas better. Quite apparently he has been trying to speak, but Czech words tend to be too long for him. He repeats the first syllable (or the last one, or perhaps the most interesting one), and we are left to guess whether "papa" means pepper (paprika) or map (mapa) or bye-bye (pa-pa). Lisa, whom we address Lízinko, received a nickname: "Koko". If he happens to repeat a whole word, it's usually something silly -- especially if I use some slang words from my husband's place of birth (Brno, which has a strong dialect). Tom finds those words very funny and repeats them without end.

	Talking Lisa

With Lisa, we have the feeling that she may eventually start talking before Tom does. Perhaps it shows that she is a girl. Tom at her age demanded to be carried around and shown interesting things. Lisa prefers to have a quiet chat instead. She likes to lay on a changing table or in my arms and converse at length -- giving her opponent oblique looks, gratefully hollering at every joke, and yelping enthusiastically. She visibly enjoyed visiting her doctor -- such a great social occasion, when everything revolves around her -- disrobing, weighing, all kinds of examinations -- Lizzy was in her element. The also have a huge mirror installed next to the exam bed, where she discovered so far the most interesting person of her life -- herself. Her positive experience with the visit was spoiled neither by inoculation (she cried a bit, but then she let me talk her into believing that it did not really hurt), nor by taking weight and measurements -- she is yet to become depressive when approaching a scale, in spite of 12.5 lbs (5.67 kg) being a mighty achievement at her age. But don't think she is a fatball -- all that mass is evenly distributed over whole 24 inches (61 cm).

	Lisa has finally more or less accepted our stroller

If you get the feeling that kids are alpha and omega of my life, then you are quite right. Not that I would especially like to wallow in it, but there is simply no time left for other activities. I am often not sure which month we have, much less which day. When Sid rushed home on 23rd of September with a bouquet and chocolates, I did not have a clue. I had to let him tell me -- we have been married for five years already! And they say women are supposed to remember anniversaries better -- yeah, right. It made me quite sentimental that Sid did not forget -- five years are a sizeable chunk of life, in our case packed with overwhelming events. I attempted to enumerate what all I gained during those years -- a husband (of course), two kids, half of a house, one and half cars, a half of a swimming pool and thirty pounds. Every single item -- a handful.

	Tom is carefully watching out for a noisy jet fighter to show up

I admit that my complete anniversary black out had caught me unprepared -- to my defense I can only add that my last couple of weeks were consumed by non-stop care of a newborn baby. Luckily Lisa has become a reasonable infant, who started to follow a somewhat more predictable routine. Approximately from her six weeks of age, she began to go to bed at about half past nine and wakes up by five in the morning for breakfast. Then she has trouble falling asleep again and would prefer to play, but when I stuff her in our bed and don't hesitate to fall asleep myself, she usually lets me entice her to another two or three hours of siesta. Throughout the day she manages to eat at a lightning pace (within five to ten minutes) and demands her food supply every two or three hours. One can actually plan something with that, so we came up with a trip to Salinas, California, to an Air Show.

In last years we used to go see the Air Show at MMoffett Field, but in 2003, organizers appeared confused and crazed crowds out of control. We skipped 2004 -- Tom had a phase when he was afraid of noise and there was nobody to babysit. This year the Air Show was not held at Moffett Field, and the fate of this airport and its huge historical airship hangars is uncertain. Besides, our kids would make us opt for somewhat less stressful environment. Salinas seemed ideal.

	This F-15 has surprised Tom by a stealth attack

It took us about an hour and half to get there, which did not pose a problem even with children (especially now that Lisa has figured out that sleeping is the best activity in a car). Then we got a little set aback by a completely jammed and unmoving ramp out of the freeway. We had to opt for alternative routes to the airport, and we eventually succeeded despite Hippo's catastrophic scenarios and a defeatist attitude.

Lisa began by comfortably watching the hubbub from her stroller bed; Tom admired laaaarge aircraft exposition, and Sid grumbled that he was hungry. Our idyllic family situation was suddenly interrupted by a F-15. I have to say that a fighter jet which rushes in unexpected and from behind, causes a great effect -- mostly scaring Tom. Fortunately he let us explain that a big airplane makes big noise, although from this moment on he kept tracking the enemy and if the jet seemed to approach, he quickly sought parental embrace. All this excitement has made Lisa hungry as well an so we were soon bound for a family picnic in the shadow of an Air Force stall. During aerobatic numbers we moved on towards the grandstands, and thus gained on a better view to another jet fighter, F/A-18 Super Hornet. I love jets, but this time I could not enjoy it -- wearing Lisa in her carrier, I held her ears and head covered against my chest, and with my other hand I held Tom's head against my leg in a similar fashion. Tom clung to me like a tick; Lizzy kept on sleeping. Although demanding to have his ears held, he waved merrily at the airplane and clapped his little hands, so I don't think anyone has acquired a mental trauma.

	Heritage Flight

But then Tom began to fade; his afternoon sleep time had arrived and Tommy demonstrated a tendency to lie down. We attempted to stuff him in the stroller, but our surroundings were so busy and noisy that nothing would ever come out of it. We decided that it would be best to head back home -- Tommy had been apparently saturated by airplane displays and both Sid and I were considerably worn out from carrying and lifting our offspring. Leaving early deprived us of the main number -- Thunderbirds. On the other hand -- our children had tolerated individual machines, but I am not sure how well they would cope with a great number of ef-sixteeners. Next year we could try it the other way around -- and come for the later half of the program. Our kids shall hopefully be bigger and last longer.

I hope that I soon shall emerge from a diaper-centric stereotype, and that we shall take longer trips. The Air Show was a kind of trial; it seems that Sid and I can endure a lot (while kids will easily adapt, I have no fear there) -- and perhaps there are better times ahead.

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