December Full Of Parties December 10 - 25, 2007 Birthdays, get-togethers, pageants, and finally, Christmas

	While our daughter was jumping in a box full of balls...

Our social life before Christmas was overwhelming us so much that I had to start planning it and write things down into a calendar, just sort it out. It began with a Christmas party at Sid's work. Sid had warned me that it might be a formal occasion, but since it was to take place in the house of one of the executives, I was expecting for some reason a rather family-style celebration. And thus I almost did not get there -- when I found a three-story residence with a spiraling staircase at the given address, I was almost convinced that it had to be some mistake.

	...Tom would not move even a step away from Margo.

It was not. Fortunately, the hosts also have children, and so I could release my two unguided missiles into their airspace. They has a movie viewing and pizza deliver arranged for them. I appreciated it -- we adults had an Indian dinner, which is magnificent, but still somewhat hot. Even Lisa said the pizza was yum yum, but refused to stay in other children's company. When she ran out of ideas how to keep my attention, she spilled something on her dress. Hence I spent a larger part of our festive dinner with Lisa on my lap, disrobed down to undershirt and tights. Tom was practically missing in action until he grew tired of Nemo and subsequently upset by the fact that the elevator would not respond to his pushing buttons, so he came to complain. It was time to head back home -- even if the incredibly friendly lady of the house did not seem thrown out of balance (she has three children).

Margo held her birthday party on Saturday. I must say it was one of the best affairs with kids that we ever attended. The staff at My Gym would really focus on the children and worked hard to ensure they had fun (with approximately twenty kids under five years -- hats off to them ... I'd much rather herd cats). Lisa got most attracted by a box full of balls, and generally mixed well with communal jumping and running around. Tom held back, but perked up as soon as he spotted Margo among other kids.

	Stay in warm places must be interspersed by running at seaside

Then he was suddenly sulking in a corner, making scenes, demanding to leave and so forth. It took us quite a while before we managed to quiz him what the problem was. He wanted to have a party with MARGO, not with some other children! And what more -- Margo would play with the other children and talk to them! Such a treason! Eventually Tom let us somehow talk him into returning to play -- but he kept watching Margo closely. I must say I have some understanding for Tom -- I reckon he's got a good taste. Margo is one year younger, but she manages to compete with him in coming up with mischief -- no quiet, "boring" girl, but a real buddy, who is ready for some fun. And she was also the only kid there whom Tom had known. We might have met some children before, but we still see Margo more often.

	The beach offered many treasures thrown ashore by the storm.

We needed to take a breath away from all these occasions on Sunday -- and so we headed for the ocean. A strange wind was blowing from an unusual side, and the Pacific was very choppy. I was the only one not wearing rubber boots -- but it made no difference -- after first five minutes I suddenly found myself at the top of an unexpected wave, so boots would not have saved me. At least I had a jacket, so I got only wet up to my waist. I must have been watched over by the god of all slobs, for later I had found some used, but dry climbing trousers in the car. Lizzy had energetically splashed through every puddle -- and so we went to have lunch like a very asymmetric family -- Sid and Tom wearing regular jeans, and my daughter and I wearing dirty sweat-pants.

	Tom had asked Santa Claus for a train.

Another party, this time at our neighbors, awaited us in the afternoon. All local families were invited, and the kids would busy themselves with their friends. When an impressive Santa Claus stepped into the room, Tom was surprisingly ready to talk with him. He might have gotten motivated by his earlier writing a letter to Santa, where Tom had single-mindedly marked that he wanted trains, and that was all. He reminded the live Santa that it was trains he wanted, settled on the poor man's lap and did not intend to move. He probably wanted to make sure Santa would not mix things up, and he would remember Tom and his trains long enough. Lisa does not speak to strangers, even when promised presents. The other children were half-and-half -- some approached Santa happily, others had avoided him.

Tom had spent most of the party kneeling down in the garage, where he played with remotely controlled GeoTrax. We would eat a bit and drink a little; even our bottle of Becherovka would "evaporate" eventually; we had brought it for we had it at home for a while, but we don't like it much (if at all, we like Fernet Stock, please). Other guests would typically check out the label, discovering that they won't learn anything from it, so they smelled it, and poured. Later we left to put our kids to bed, which might have been a tactical error -- late into the night, laughter carried over from our neighbors -- and on the following day the girls declared proudly that Becherovka had been conquered.

	Kids decorating cookies and their mouths with sugar frosting.

I don't know what came upon me, but I had invited our neighbors to visit us on the next Monday. I had an idea that we could distribute some cookie dough among the kids and let them create. It turned out better than expected. Boys would typically lose interest (if at all, they lasted only for a short while); girls are capable to sit nicely and be captivated by stabbing spices into the dough.

Up until that moment, our December events were successful, and I should have anticipated some payback. It came on the day of our pre-school holiday pageant. Tom had fallen asleep earlier that evening and woke up with his usual claim, "Tommy feels a bit under". It was hard to tell whether he was really ill, or only sleepy; his temperature was OK. I did not want to deprive Lisa of the pageant, and since we already had agreed to meet there with Sid -- I said to myself, we can always split and one of us take Tom home should there be any crisis.

	Our weepy offspring at the pre-school holiday pageant.

The pageant was a complete disaster. Thanks to the fact that the other school building had earlier burned down, the still standing part of the school now houses joint classes. The pageant was joined as well -- with lots of unfamiliar children, eager parents, chaotic teachers -- simply havoc and confusion. Lisa strictly refused to be any part of it, throwing a tantrum right at the entrance -- since she's been lately having this very unpleasant phase when she responds with NO to everything as a matter of pure principle (just to change her mind immediately afterward and scream that she WAAAANTS it and WAAANTS is), and I have had enough of her tantrums for the day, I dragged her out onto the parking lot, promising her to go home right away. She wavered only when I towed her all the way to the car -- then she reversed and WAAANTED to be at the pageant. So I "let" her ask me nicely. Eventually Lisa would sit at the podium next to Tom, who looked as if he were auditioning for leading role in Swan Lake (playing a dying swan). Both kids dismissed all signing, but at least they did not plug their ears. Then Lisa started to cry that she wants mama, and so she spent the rest of the pageant sitting with me. Then both juniors would not see the local Santa Claus -- not even when being bribed with a lollipop. By that time we had enough and decided to retreat at once.

	At Santa Cruz Aquarium: Lisa follows the lecture; Tom pokes an anemone in the sink.

Gotten back home, I said to myself, what a parade of wasted time. It would have been better off staying home with the children. I should have figured that a joint pageant for two schools would be a horror. For some unknown reason, organizers had arranged for a hall, which did not even have a piano, so one could not find guidance in singing, nor would there be any melodic noise covering up some of the off-key tune that the little participants made. With moisture in my eye I remember last year's pageant in a cozy environment of a historic neighborhood club -- there was time, space and will to sit down with other parents and teachers, to talk. That organization was chaotic as well, but one can still work out twenty kids in a chaos.

Lisa started to snivel and cough on Thursday, so perhaps Tommy had had some minor virosis, which now is making rounds in the family. Naturally, illnesses will pick Christmas as the best time of year to rule. Soon we were bound to arrange for some undemanding yet interesting occupation for snivelers. Our original plans included a short walk on a beach, but Tommy had begged to go to the Aquarium. Our juniors are already well-acquainted with the Seymour Center in Santa Cruz; the problem is, they're divergent. While Lisa demanded to play with puzzles first, Tom ran straight away to touch pool with sea-stars and anemones. When I finally convinced Lisa to go see the stars, he was already off to check out the rest of the tanks. Good that there were two of us, meaning Sid and I, and we could split. Lizzy had surprised me -- she lasted a long time by the trench with coastal fauna and flora. She would pick up sea-stars, pet them, explore their sucking little feet, and return them in the water. She tried to convince a hermit crab to get out of his shell onto her palm -- she held the shell gingerly and splashed water on the crab with her other hand, so he would not be scared. In turn she inspected several kinds of kelp and noted their differing structure. Simply put, she had grown up from a cute toddler into an attentive (and horribly obstinate) young lady.

	Finally came the most important moment -- unwrapping Christmas presents.

Earlier in the fall, Sid had purchased -- naturally FOR TOMMY -- Trainz: a virtual railroad for his computer. Since then he would periodically succumb to engineering and spends late nights sitting with fiery glance in front of the screen, informing me about problems on his lines. A day before Christmas Eve, Tom had noticed daddy with his railroads-- and they managed together to watch the trains for four hours. Trains travel through Tom's favorite Tehachapi, the engines being in correct colors of Santa Fe and Tommy can honk the horns and "be in the cab" (i.e. see the whole situation from the driver's point of view). The rest of the controls are still too complicated for Tom -- he is quite content with watching the landscape and ties move by. In this sense Tom had already received one present ahead of time. Soon I will have to look up federal regulations of the railroad service -- I'm rather convinced that a train operator can only serve a certain number of continuous hours, and I'm afraid my men do exceed this limit. I would also presume that once someone derails a train, he would be suspended for a few years -- not just restart the application.

	Lizzy loves books.

The boys had played with trains for a while on Christmas Eve morning as well. Then Hippo took the kids out shopping for the holiday dinner, and I attempted to civilized our little home. We put them in their beds in the afternoon -- Lisa got frightened at six a.m. by a garbage truck, and after lunch the kids were truly ready for a nap; we did not want to risk two tired monkeys around the tree. Oddly enough, even Tom had fallen asleep -- and he woke up with 102°F. We gave him Tylenol and collectively sat down to a movie. I must be the only citizen of Czech Republic who had never seen the whole Father Frost before. My Hippo claimed I had gaps in my education, and so I had consented to watching this gem of Soviet cinema production. Still I lasted only to about half of it, then I went off to do something. Tommy had surprised me though, for he watched the whole story with attention. Apparently, a schematic plot and color-saturated costumes were more comprehensible than wit and charm of other fairy tales that are much more intelligent.

Our dinner was quiet, as kids discovered ringing their juice-filled wine glasses. Only a quick check at the tree had revealed that Santa had not arrived yet, and so the kids, accompanied by Sid, went in front of the house to see if he was flying by and did not lose his aim. Soon I joined them, but none of us would spot the elusive old man. We must have missed him by a split second -- when we came back in the house, there was a large heap of presents under the tree.

	Old-timer Tom would rush to the largest box.

Tom had brought up Santa earlier in the fall -- and he's been very convinced of his existence. We chose not to complicate the ensued situation by explaining the (European) Baby Jesus concept, only to introduce more confusion a few years down the track. Moreover, he had met Santa Claus personally at the neighbors' party -- which cemented his belief in the existence of the red-clad old man. And watching Santa fly is a practical necessity -- our kitchen is connected with our living room, and there's no way I could smuggle the presents in while the family is eating.

Lisa had apparently not remembered last year's Christmas, but Tom is an old timer -- he went straight for the largest box (and was out of luck -- this one was mine). It surprised me how he was first able to decipher our names on the tags -- and later he followed the associated pictograms. Lisa would unwrap each present, inspect it, tried it out, and play with it for a while. Tom, on the other hand, would rip paper off one box, drop it, and rush for another. Only after there was nothing left under the tree, he settled down enough to sit and examine. Lisa's toy kitchen was probably the greatest hit, and Tom's matching cash register, too -- now kids have been cooking for us. Play-dough got really discovered only on the following day, and similarly we are now going through books and more involved toys.

Our Christmas was a peaceful affair; now we were waiting what all kinds of illnesses would befall individual members of the household. Tom complains about achy ears, Lisa has been obnoxious, and my head feels like a research balloon probe due to common cold.

Copyright © 2007-2008 by Carol & Sid Paral. All rights reserved.