New routine

New routine
November 17 - December 9, 2007
Kids stopped sleeping - we hike on hills, visit museums and ZOOs - no fun funicular - buying a Christmas tree, decorating cookies - party season has begun



	The most important component of every trip is the picnic



	Tom enjoys every opportunity to be with his virtual old brother

Do you know the Murphy's Law of the internet, as applicable to mothers? It says that if you publicly boast on the Net how your children sleep / go to pre-school / get taken care of by granny and that you have PLENTY of free time and that you actually ENJOY being a mother, a reward comes down in the form of insomnia / the pre-school burns down / granny flat gets devastated to the point she refuses to baby-sit them ever again. Why was it not enough for me, being on good talking terms with the kids, and having established a comfortable, humane regime, where afternoon naps alternate with the pre-school, swimming lessons, and Sid's time off of work while I went to practice yoga? No, I felt it necessary to keep writing all about it in my journal. Granted -- granny has been safely tucked away in Prague and thus kids were unable to destroy anything of hers -- nevertheless, our school has truly burned down (fortunately, another building than the one our kids visit); Lisa had joined Tom in skipping the afternoon naps.

I had expected it to somewhat simplify our lives. Our day is no longer split into two parts; I don't really have to get back into our house by noon, to put juniors to their beds in time -- but I also lost one hour (or two, maybe three in the days of greatest glory) when I could accomplish something consistent, not in three-minute ticks, interleaved by wiping bottoms, dirty hands and floors, by serving food and drinks, building railroad tracks, reading fairy tales and kissing hurts. Now the kids go to bed one hour earlier in the evening, which is nice -- but it makes me undecided. On one hand my jerked-around soul commands me to put my feet up on my desk and DO NOTHING for a moment, on the other hand, things tend to accumulate throughout the day that I simply could not work out with the offspring behind my back -- journals, e-mails, pictures -- and the rest of the household, of course. Not to speak of the fact that I would like to exchange a few words with my Hippo beyond our usual "garbage needs taking out" or "what's for dinner". Which is not antagonist with feet up or ironing, but cannot be undertaken while your mind had fallen into a merciful blankness.



	A view from Mt. Diablo to the north, including Sacramento Delta



	Kids at San Francisco ZOO



	Left to right: James, Tom, Lisa, Michael

There's nothing left but hope that my body and my soul will grow unaccustomed again to the afternoon siesta, and thus we shall find a new rhythm. So far I've been trying to focus on the positive aspects of the ensued situation. Take our Czech get-together in Walnut Creek: I had managed to play with the kids while visiting our friends, then have a collective lunch, and still fit a hike around the top of nearby Mt. Diablo with Gabka and Lukas. Gábina keeps embarrassing me a bit, for she wields a good sense of direction. Although having come to this place only a few weeks ago, it was her and not me, an old settler, who had noticed that we were driving the wrong way. Neither of us had a map, so in the end Hippo had to navigate us from his desk (for once the silly cell phones could be put to good use).

On the mountain top, Tom would rejoice when seeing antennas and a lighthouse (a look-out), and he tried to keep up his pace with Lukas, who's almost six years older. Lizzy, who had inherited brand new, FUR-lined high boots at our get-together, was trotting purposely and let everybody admire her. Tommy and Luke would climb rocks, Lisa attempted to follow. I think that Tom takes advantage of having such an "older brother". He needs to be around someone else, who comes up with crazy ideas, and to whom he can look up. Lisa is, indeed, younger, and she's a girl, which makes her disqualified in some aspects -- and she's not interested. Tom would urge her to race and she'd often say she won't run anywhere; she won't be motivated to compete. As soon as Tom arrives in a manly company, he was all over the place.

The most important component of every hike is a PICNIC. After a meal, however, Lisa had finally faded and allowed me to stuff her into the backpack carrier, with only minor resistance. I was quite glad of it, for the last few yards to the look-out leads sharply uphill, and Lisa would slip and keep falling behind there. I had therefore planned to walk back down on the pavement, but Tom started crying desperately, for he had hoped to make it to the antennas (i.e. using a foot-path by the cell repeaters). Eventually I sent Gabina and Lukas with him, while Lisa and I refused to risk our health on those rocks there. Everybody was happy. Driving back home, our kids remained perky, no-one fell asleep -- simply our afternoon naps are over. Though I try to tire my children down, the only one who ends up exhausted in the end is me. The little monsters simply regenerate too quickly.



	A historic railroad station and adjacent museum in Old Sacramento.



	Lisa and Tom at Sacramento Railroad Museum

We have invited Gabina, Radim, and Lukas for Thanksgiving. I wrote many times how much I like this quiet family holiday. Yet I must admit that with three children it became rather chaotic. First we went out on a hike -- and did not judge our strength -- or rather the staying-behind tendencies of individual juniors -- and our trip had taken almost all afternoon. I began to be quite nervous regarding our turkey, which had spent way too many hours in the oven, the few latest ones without direct oversight. Surprisingly, our house did not burn down, and the above mentioned bird had not been cremated. We sat Lukas down to a computer and our kids in front of the TV -- and quickly finished all preparations. Well, we still have a long way to go to compare to Krens' festive dining table -- and while jumping up to fetch all forgotten detail, we did not even start eating together. So again, there was more confusion than introspection or giving some thanks. Nevertheless we have been invited over to Kubacki's for the first day of Christmas -- it would seem that they intend to continue counting us among their friends.

On one Friday, Jana and I had agreed to do a big trip to San Francisco ZOO. We were lucky with weather -- despite this year's "tough" winter and regular occurrence of morning frost, it has been mostly clear outside. Optically, our southern sun looks rather warm, but even on high noon we huddle in fleece. Our kids had enjoyed the ZOO -- still I have a feeling that Tom would mostly focus on running around with the twins, shouting, and drain, rail and curb inspections. Riding on the kiddie train and review of a functional railroad crossing was the highpoint (for Tom). Lisa might have noticed some animals, but I'm not so sure about Tom.

The other day we went again to the Children's Museum. We hold an annual permit now, a light rail takes us there, and the kids love it; moreover, they keep finding new and better things to play with there. Now that we don't need to rush back for lunch and nap time, we can stay relatively long. On this occasion it lasted us for three hours. The kids, though, grow more and more divergent, and since they know the museum and tend to have different interests, I would often have to decide where to go, and who's wishes shall be fulfilled. Eventually Tom had declared that he wanted to stay with the traffic lights and that he would not mind being left to himself. So Lisa and I had abandoned him, going downstairs to check out the bubbles section, which my daughter asked for vehemently. The museum has only one, staffed exit, and I don't have to worry that a child would get lost there. Tom had really managed to hang out at the designated spot until some boy had splashed foam into Lisa's eye, which cooled Lizzy passion a bit regarding bubbles, and we could return to her brother.



	A view to the mountains, lacking snow, from the famous, but hopelessly closed funicular at Heavenly, Tahoe.



	Tom got interested in drawing with crayons

We had looked forward to a somewhat bigger trip on the first December weekend. It's been a little more complicated in winter, for the weather does not really enable us to camp in a tent, and we are bound to organize us some roof over our heads ahead of time. We thought we would go to Sacramento on Saturday, to see a railroad museum, and then we'd continue to Lake Tahoe. There we would overnight, taking the kids in the morning on a funicular ride, or alternatively letting them toss rocks into the lake; we would drive back home in the afternoon.

The first half of our plan worked out great. We had managed to park our bus near the old Sacramento downtown, we found the museum and spent over two hours inside. Besides well-polished historic engines they show an old diner car that shakes and wobbles as if it were still riding, with muffled lights flashing by behind its windows, to an occasional tolling of a crossing's bell. More than in historic expositions, the children were interested in the upstairs display. Lisa stayed glued endlessly to tables with wooden toy trains. In a tough competition of mostly older and bigger boys, she had grabbed her favorite James and kept on going. When I started being worried where my Hippo with Tommy had disappeared, I forced Lisa to interrupt her play for a moment; I found that Tom had been gazing for half an hour at an automated model railway. We allowed him to watch the gates and engines and tunnels for another while, but then we wanted to leave. Our son, though, kept weeping and begging and resisting all the way to the exit, and in the end with capitulated and returned back upstairs. Only after another thirty minutes, we were able to convince him to let go.



	Kids playing in a museum with rubber-cord powered cars



	Artistic Lisa approaches painting very seriously.

We had reserved a motel room at Tahoe -- looking it up by six years old credit card statements, for back then we had found one that seemed roomy and clean -- and we had actually found it. It was the place. After dinner, when putting our children to bed, I found that Lisa's bottom was seriously raw, and I had to send Sid out to buy some lotion (since Lisa has been out of diapers, I did not consider packing on along). My Hippo had come back with the lotion, a bottle of coca-cola and a box of Ferrero Rocher candy . We put the kids down to beds and kept checking whether they were asleep already -- you would not believe how much noise is made by unwrapping Ferrero Rocher in a quiet motel room (being real selfish parents, we would naturally not want to share the chocolate balls with our offspring -- mostly because Tommy responds to sweets with uncontrollable bursts of energy). I had no idea that at my age, I would indulge in chocolate secretly in the evening, under the covers.

In the morning Tommy had asked for a breakfast with little bears. It took us a while until we realized that he had meant honey and syrup containers in the shape of bears, which they serve you at Bridgeport's Hays Street Cafe along with pancakes. Our server showed sympathy, but brought forth only a regular flask with the syrup, apologizing that they had no bears, but she could try to rumble like one, when she'd be bringing the pancakes. Tom had born it bravely, and ate most of his breakfast despite the bears' absence. I had a waffle with strawberries and whipped cream and a tub of coffee. I needed impregnating for the upcoming, clear winter's day.



	Lisa demanded to walk with the saw



	Decorating Christmas cookies

From this point on, our trip went downhill. The funicular at Heavenly was closed -- and this famous ski resort sported (just like all the others) some bright green grass. An alternative funicular based at the tourist center appeared to be operating -- but only in the mechanical sense. As we were explained by a relatively friendly attendant, a strong wind was happening at the high end of the cable line, and the cabins were going only to take back down all early tourists and skiers, who had managed to get up the mountain BEFORE its closing. Tom squealed that he wanted to ride, I calculated how much we paid in motel price, dinner, breakfast, gas -- all that only to be defeated by slightly unfavorable weather. As a reward, another much less friendly attendant had charged us $1.75 upon leaving the parking lot for those twenty minutes we took to find out that they were closed. So we took the kids down to the lake, but even there a strong, unpleasant wind kept jerking us around, and we gave up soon and turned on the way home. A priceless trip indeed.

Christmas had been approaching and I had gotten another itch to try some thrilling adventure. On one winter evening, I had prepared Vizovice dough and released my children upon it. Besides my offspring sticking half of the house up with the dough, and spreading spices everywhere, this year we are proud to have a rather dada decorations for our otherwise traditional tree. Baking of our favorite Morocco cookies was no less thrilling. And let's not forget the glazing -- I had the hardest time (literally) depriving my children of tasting all the pieces, while forcing them to direct the glazing and cranberries onto the dough. Later on, I opted to decorate gingerbreads myself.



	Happy Birthday!



	Our (little) tree

On the second December weekend we drove to buy a tree. Last year we had left it to the final week before Christmas and almost missed the chance, they were so much sold out. People in California set up their trees right after Thanksgiving, hence one must act quickly. Again, Gabina, Radim, Luky had accompanied us -- to make themselves familiar with the local method of buying a tree. They had announced they'd want only a tiny one -- and after some hour of walking up and down the farm grounds (while our specimen was long cut and loaded), they were departing with a relatively grown-up, wide tree. I wondered how it would fit in their apartment.

Now that Christmas was approaching, several celebrations had queued up. So far we'd been to the twins' birthday party in an indoor playground. My children refused to play in tubes and tunnels without my presence, and I did not want to crawl in there with them (I am, after all, a bit more voluminous, and stiff, thanks to my dysfunctional spine). Lisa complained about the noise inside the playground (and I don't blame her). Then they gladly devoured allotted pizza (for their evil mother does not usually permit such indulgence), but in the moment when all the other children sang "Happy Birthday", my rascals covered their ears. I am afraid that they have inherited some anti-social behavior.

But don't let me just complain about my hard time with the kids. Tuesdays are interesting these days, as I drop my children into Hippo's lap in the afternoon and go climb with Martin, or do yoga. When I'm sufficiently devastated, I drop for a half hour into sauna. I have not had sauna for at least seven years, and feels really good, especially in winter. When I'm done there, Gabina's spinning comes to an end -- and we both go to a brewery to have a pint. The local microbrew is rather good -- and I don't tend to swell up like after a bottled one. Alas, I have to limit myself to one -- since I'm bound to drive home. Well, at least I get no heavy mornings (I mean, not heavier than usual).

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