I am amazing! October 2 - 22, 2005 Managing preparations for Halloween, organizing kids' party, social life and trips -- and without Lisa on my breast I feel practically naked

	Halloween is upon us!

When I was pregnant with Tom, my friend Martina Kren kept convincing me that if I not only survive individual days with a child, but I also manage to get to, let us say, post office and such, I will be simply amazing. With two kids, I think, I am amazing ^squared. You see, I do not only get all the way to the post office and grocery stores -- it would seem that children in my care actually prosper.

So far I resisted the urge to shred Tom to a thousand pieces, in spite of his giving me many reasons to do so. It usually start with us having to go somewhere in a hurry, I change his diaper, give him clean clothes and rush to nurse Lisa so that she would not scream on our way there. The ensuing process varies only in details. For example -- Tome comes near and with horribly dirty hands proceeds to pat Lisa on her head. My quick research into the matter of my child looking like a refugee camp resident, who had no chance to wash for half year, ends at the freshly opened door of our fireplace and at the ashes carefully swept out into our living room -- on the floor (I still don't think we should afford a carpet in the next five years -- a prison cell arrangement seems quite suitable), toys and furniture within reach -- and of course on our Cinderella-boy himself.
The other day (again, cleanly outfitted) Tommy came running back from our back yard, where he had escaped me without wearing shoes -- he was not only wet up to his knees, but by means of rolling in his sandbox he transformed himself into the appearance of a live breaded fish-finger. Socks, trousers -- all wasted -- and throughout our house hand prints of wet sand. Alternatively he runs out in our front yard in his socks (usually during our daily farewell to the work-commuting Sid), and through recently irrigated (= muddy) lawn, and subsequently through the rest of the house; or he smears grime off of the car's brake disks and distributes forensic quality hand prints all over our white washer, white doors and white walls.

	It's hard work, selecting the most beautiful pumpkin!

As if wanting to balance it out, Tom compensates me for his mischief in carefully measured doses of incredible cuteness. I once held Lisa over my shoulder and Tommy would desperately pull at my hand and call out "mama mama". I could not figure out what he wanted, so he finally abandoned his clueless mother and began to deal with the problem himself -- he pulled a box with paper napkins down from our fireplace ledge and wiped soiled Lisa's mouth. It surprised me how attentive he was to her. Then he wiped off the chair and floor -- still with the same napkin, but that's OK -- as long as he did not take it in the opposite order.

Despite all the burdens daily prepared for me by my children, I managed to get out with them to visit the Pumpkin Patch. A small farm in the middle of otherwise industrial Mountain View sells Halloween pumpkins every year -- and since the sale is enlivened by a kid's train, hay bale maze, hay stack and a petting zoo, we could not leave it unnoticed. I had expected Tom to most enjoy the train, but in the end we spent the longest time watching little chicks. Julie and K.C. came with us and the boys would naturally get to their most intense play (running in the maze) just as we were about to leave.

	Julie succeeded to find and capture a rollicking Tom.

As a proof of my organizational capabilities, I regard preparations of Tom's birthday party. I had read somewhere that if parents want to revenge themselves on a two-year-old child, they invite all his friends to their HOUSE, where these intruders would grab HIS toys (and subsequently his parents scald the hapless birthday child for not wanting to lend little Joe his most favorite toy car). Thus we decided to hold the function in a neutral territory. We do not hold any aspirations to keep a larger number of toddlers sitting in a row, so we opted for a park with a kids' train and a carousel. Right from the start I could simply not imagine baking, cooking and serving -- hence we used mostly store-prepared items. It surprised me that we actually have even two "party stores" where most of the stuff can be had. However, if Tom were able to speak yet, he would probably tell you that having one's birthday around Halloween is scary. As much fearless fireman may he have been in his previous life, he fears Halloween decorations. Unfortunately for him, toy stores and shops specializing in home decorations have been inviting holiday shoppers by displays of skeletons and ugly rubber prosthetics. Tommy held onto me like a tick, when we entered one such place, but when somewhere inside a four feet battery-powered, scary puppet suddenly began croaking its own sales pitch -- altogether two steps from Tom -- all was lost. Mortally frightened Tom panicked and jumped on my leg. I was carrying Lisa in a carrier and could not bend down to take him away from there; Tommy refused to let go of my leg and therefore I could not lead him out either. And the puppet croaked on and on and Tom screamed and screamed. Until a cashier broke this horror circle and inflated a balloon for Tom, which attracted his focus enough to let go of my leg, so we could move away from the figurine and subsequently out of the store. Tom was completely enticed by the balloon, so we can hope that he won't have contracted a long-term mental phobia of Halloween decorations.

	Tommy cannot pedal -- yet

However stretched, I seem to be able to keep a busy social life, even with my two kids. It also appears that visitors have a similar effect on a energetic toddler like extended walks. If our neighbors' K.C. comes over, both boys play together -- run around, jump on Tom's bed and another mattress that we keep on the floor of his room; they drive around toy cars and trains -- and the ladies, i.e. Lisa, Julie and myself, sit in our living room and enjoy a conversation. It works the other way around quite as well -- our neighbors own a big table with tracks and trains, and it can transform Tom into the most problem-free boy under the sun. Similarly during our visit with Petra -- part time, Tom plays with Luke's railroad, and the other part he goes to Luke's room and plays with cars.

	Point Lobos our coast presented us with a beautiful weather...

We also went visiting my childless friend Zuzka. Poor Zuzka had imagined that a walk with children is just like a walk and was surprised that in two hours we covered a distance of about five hundred yards up and down. Tom dithered around, watched airplanes (Zuzka lives near San Francisco International airport) - and then disappeared among bushes; he brought us back an amazing item. By now I'm used to take home a stroller full of leaves, snail shells and dandelions, but this was the first time I received a drain cover. Alas, the covers in the area were made of hard plastic, and our delighted Tom had worked out how to not only open, but also that he was able to take such a relatively large cover with him. Part of our walk thus consisted of looking for uncovered valves and drains, and of redistributing covers back to their places.

On weekends, Sid usually takes Tom on at least one walk or shopping errand. They ventured out the other Saturday, doing their usual loop around the block, and when they had returned, Sid announced that he just bought a tricycle for our son. Our neighbors on the other side of our block held a garage sale -- getting rid of their grown-up kids' leftover possessions - and hence Tom had acquired this wonderful (although quite used) tricycle. A sturdy plastic handle for pushing parent flips under the wheels and presto! your tricycle has just been transformed into a "rocking horse" -- and all that for only three dollars. For an extra buck we obtained an almost new life jacket. Given that Tom had unwillingly fallen three times into our pool last summer, and next year I shall watch Lisa (who will likely crawl by then) in addition to Tom, I consider this life jacket a mandatory attire during junior's stay in our back yard. I can cover one child, but with two, such device seems a reasonable solution.

	...and stormy seas.

	Tom and K.C vehemently participate in preparations for Tom's party

The new vehicle needed testing - our planned visit to Coyote Point came handy. This small peninsula, a county park recommended by Zuzka, sticks out into the San Francisco Bay about a mile from the parallel runways of SFO International Airport. We thought that huge aircraft will be an exciting experience for Tom, and we looked forward to combine them with his new tricycle trial into a quality morning program. Alas, airplanes failed to hold Tom's attention; he opted for throwing little rocks into the bay, while abandoning his new tricycle altogether as useless. He was ready to push it, and alternatively roll around it on the ground inspecting the undercarriage, but he wanted no business with its pedals. So this is an example of parents having a wrong idea of obtaining something amazing for their child. We will obviously have to wait until Tom discovers the principle of velocipedal propulsion.

On our next weekend we took our kids (to be sure, without the tricycle) to our favorite Point Lobos. Fall is one of the best seasons on our coast, unlike its cold and foggy summertime. We had a clear day and stormy, interesting ocean. Lisa loves being carried, hence she behaved like a happy baby; Tom was captivated by our hiking trail with rocks and steps. He collected pinecones along the way, climbed on boulders -- even eventually accepted our explanation that large roots crawling across the trail were not malicious and simply belonged to trees. It's interesting how sometimes a common object frightens him, and then he refuses to get anywhere near, until he's given a thorough lecture about the object's true nature and function. I have to say that such a trip wore me out quite surprisingly. After all, having been immobilized by my pregnancy has taken its toll on my physical condition.

	Slicing the cake took place with the birthday boy already absent

Then came the D day -- celebration of Tom's birthday. The correct day was actually on Monday, October 24, but we moved the party day to Saturday the twenty-second, for the following weekend approached too close to Halloween, and we wanted to separate them a bit. Weather was another factor -- by the end of October, one can expect rain, followed by first fall storms. Fortunately, we still have been enjoying the tail of an Indian summer -- cold, melancholy fogs in the morning, and by eleven o'clock the sun burns through the haze and it gets warm again.

	Tom, Sid and K.C. on a train engine

Hence we were dressed in sweat shirts and windbreakers when we prepared our picnic, while the young boys sloshed their feet through wet autumn leaves. I think that we had found a perfect spot for the party - Tom needs space to run, which in this case was connected to a parking lot (which belongs to this remote picnic area, so I does not encounter any external traffic). There were storm drain grids, raised curbs, our parked car, and let us not forget the picnic tables with benches to sit on, trees fallen leaves... our junior enjoyed it all. The sun has arrived as expected, later in the morning -- and then came our guests. They all had at least two children, with the youngest born less than a year ago, and it made things a bit more chaotic. I expect and hope that everyone got something to eat and that everyone found some entertainment -- with Lisa around my neck and Tom perpetually disappearing into the distance, we were bound to be lousy hosts.

When it came to cutting the birthday cake, the situation collapsed into a fiasco. Because of this taking place on a windy day, our candle would not stay lit; worse yet, the birthday boy suddenly lost all interest in the ceremony. There is only one photograph with the cake -- it contains the cake, Sid, and Tom's friends -- but Tom has already left the frame in a beeline to the nearest curb or similar sightseeing jewel. Thus we abandoned plans to unwrap his presents and decided upon releasing the contents of this mysterious pile later on, when we get back home. It was likely the best thing to do -- this way, he enjoyed every toy separately, stretching the joys of his birthday over several days.

	You forgot to pull down the gate! (Tom's toys are rather tempting for us as well)

An excursion to a toy train and carousel was next. Tom and K.C. had a chance to ride along with Sid and the driver on the engine. Then fathers with (usually) older kids went on the carousel and the smaller children all mysteriously synchronized in nursing. It looked a little like a La Leche League demonstration. And then it was suddenly half past one and (not only) Tom started showing sings of a complete social exhaustion. We pushed the remains of food onto our guests to take home, inedible parts went back into our car, and the party was over. Overall I would say that it was a success -- as much as one can expect from eight kids under three years.

In the evening I sent out Sid and Tom for the high point of his birthday -- a party balloon. Again it turned out according to expectations -- Tommy more or less ignored an amazing inflatable Thomas the Tank Engine, and happily played with a common promotional balloon that they got for free at the store. I reckon that the picnic in the park was more interesting celebration for Tom than any other organized affair -- like perhaps all parents in the world, our imagination regarding wishes of our offspring keeps colliding with hard reality and pragmatism of our son.

	Lízzy tries to capture and devour her toys

A relatively huge surprise for us is that Tom began to speak. It's not the very fact that he broke his articulative silence, but that most of his new words are English. At home, we all speak Czech, but apparently our surroundings (and Tom's best friend being an American) plays bigger role than we could ever imagine. Maybe it's because English is much simpler after all. Most basic words are single syllables (blue, cat etc.); there is no inflexion - and diminutives are rare. Despite our resolve not to use "baby talk", we often drop into cute words (kočička = cat, pejsek = doggy, autíčko = car, vláček = train), which in Czech is even harder to say and remember than common words.

Despite Tom's apparent progress it sometimes seems that Lizzy will start to speak before he does. In her age of almost three months, our little daughter delivers lengthy speeches. First she scared me -- she does not know how to articulate yet, so the sound she makes is a continued hum and I thought she was moaning. Yet her mouth was open into the widest smile and she was visibly pleased with herself and with me listening and vehemently agreeing with her whenever possible, and I stopped worrying about her health. Now she presents her opinion quite often. She also consciously plays with specific toys (as long as we accept that playing means that she tries to get them unchewed into her stomach). On every opportunity she tries to lift herself into a sitting position. She makes it obvious that she does not enjoy being a static little baby. What makes me glad is the fact that she has been able to sleep continuously for eight to ten hours -- only thanks to enough sleep I manage to survive my everyday marathon -- and to be amazing to the extent described herein.

Copyright © 2005-2006 by Carol & Sid Paral. All rights reserved.