Lisa's ballet dress shows how she's pulling tall.

November began with teacher-parent conferences. It works individually here, for which I was grateful. Public verbal flagellation of troublemakers was out of practice even those twenty years ago when I used to teach in Czech Republic, however while going from one desk where parents were seated to the next, it was impossible not to overhear what was being said to your neighbor. Perhaps that was the reason why I typically in vain looked for the parents I would have had liked to talk with most.

Even Halloween ghosts form a family in Lisa's interpretation. Take a note of a ghost baby.

Given various Tom's problems at the beginning of the school year, I simply quite appreciated that our conference was to be between me and the teacher, without any other witnesses. The teacher started by explaining how a school report card works. I found such explanation a very good idea, once I saw a paper brimming with sections and acronyms. Until this November, I lived under the impression that full alphabet classification letters exist only at Hogwarts (a Harry Potter fiction reference), and thus Tom was not at risk of getting a "Tee" (T read troll). Ok, I give in, they don't give T's -- but there's E (exceeded), then S (standard) and N (needs improvement). The letter covers a whole category (like "language" or "mathematics"). A category is further divided into individual proficiencies, and they carry grades in numbers from one to four, the latter being the best.

Apparently I gave the impression of being about to faint, for the teacher assured me that the report card (which we would receive by the end of November) won't be bad at all. It even seems that our son excels -- except for his behavior, which, too, has proficiencies and which would carry an N -- well, at least he's not a troll, right? And most of all, the school has already figured out that Tom may be somewhat peculiar (apparently after his father, although his mother's genes keep showing up, too -- e.g. refusal to do things that at first glance of a young child, don't make sense), but he's otherwise smart and handles academics easily above the required level.

On our hike to Castle Rock Falls.

Tommy discovered this picnic location, inside a Swiss cheese rock.

After three months since Tom started his school and Lisa her five mornings a week in pre-school, I'm still taken by surprise what a rush our life has become. It's partially due to the commute -- Tom's school is five minutes in a car westwards, Lisa's takes ten minutes by car to the east, and so I spend much time driving up and down. We usually split the chore between Sid and me in the morning -- each driving one child. Noon pick-up is all up to me though, and kids' respective school ends with five minute difference. I don't know how to teleport, and so Lisa keeps staying late. We try to limit it -- two days in a week, our neighbor Ina picks up Lisa together with her daughter Sasha, one day in the week, Denise picks up Tom from the school together with her son Stefan and I only go for Lisa. On Tuesdays and Thursdays I get my turn to drop off Sasha at the pre-school and on Tuesdays I get to pick Stefan up and take him to our home. There's Lisa's ballet on Thursdays, Monday morning climbing with Hippo, Tuesdays night we go to Sunnyvale (I climb while Hippo has a dinner with the kids). Once or twice a week Hippo bikes home from work, which takes me to drive him to work next day; Hippo's biking days must not collide with my climbing days. Irregularly, I help out in Tom's class (can't take Lisa that day). I think that my next job could be a public transport manager of a small town (e.g. New York). I've been practicing.

Besides playing taxi, extracurriculars, play-dates and my climbing, we got hit by homework. Kids receive assignments on Mondays and must bring back results on Thursdays. This gives us three days to work them out. Tommy usually brings a math homework and a (short) book, which we must read; he then draws a picture and retells the plot. Which would make sense, except we deal with complications. First, I'm not comfortable reading aloud in English, which is not my mother tongue. Tom automatically uses Czech when talking with me, thus he actually translates the book into Czech (and sometimes gets stuck on something he does not know how to interpret). Next, I am supposed to record what he told me (i.e. translating back into English, which irks me as it suddenly becomes my homework more than Tom's). I will have to check things out -- I don't want to mandate English at home; I know too many families where parents due to school pressure switched to exclusively English communication, and their Czech kicked the bucket. On the other hand, I don't know how much sense this translating back and forth makes.

A caveman family.

Back in summer I had imagined how much more free time and relaxation I would have, but now I find I was quite off the point. I do get a block of time in the morning, but also lots of things to take care of, and in the last three months I did not get to enjoy coffee with Jana, which we had promised each other in the summer. By noon I play taxi, serve lunch, shop, homework, playing out, visits, clubs, classes -- and it's time to go to bed again. It's true I have not encountered a moment when I would be clueless where to turn with two obnoxious toddlers, but I sometimes miss a piece of disorganization, going just out to the playground, or rolling on a couch and watching TV based on momentary whim of all participants.

Lisa threw this tantrum at the ice rink.

We manage to get disorganized a little, mostly on weekends. I wanted to take the whole family to Castle Rock, so that the kids could see the trail bridges and the waterfalls and beautiful rocks. It was about fifty two degrees at the Skyline (Santa Cruz Mountains) parking lot, and we wrapped ourselves in everything we found in our car. Going down the gulch way to the waterfall, we were still horribly cold, but at the lookout with the waterfall we popped out onto the sun-warmed western slope of the mountains -- and began to shed jackets. Less than a mile farther, by Goat Rock, were where emerged out of the woods and onto a rocky cliff, short sleeves were appropriate. It must have been at least seventy there.

Tommy the explorer disappeared in the bushes and before I managed to push through to him (wearing a backpack and carrying the jackets), he proceeded to yell at me from somewhere above that he found a great spot for a picnic. Interesting how he throws tantrums in a harness, but now outdoors climbs on rocks with a style that makes me want to smack him (mostly for running away and climbing places without parents' permission), were I not proud how he turned after me. I had to help Lisa reach the sun-filled cave, then I had to convince my protesting Hippo to scramble his whole mass up this high, but eventually we all made it. Getting down was a bit more adventurous than way up, for both weakest and "strongest" individuals. Hiking back was like replaying the thermal shock backwards: we kept adding layers of clothing, as we forged from Indian summer into a gloomy autumn on the mountain ridge. Apparently our dry air causes this "Moon surface weather" - it makes a huge difference whether one exists in sunshine or in the shade.

Since it has been raining occasionally, we carry umbrellas along, and the kids have something to fight over.

On the next November weekend, the weather turned a bit worse, and so we, equipped with umbrellas, set out on our train loop. From Santa Clara station we took Caltrain to Mountain View, had a lunch at our favorite Shana, and then took another train back to Santa Clara, and visited the model train museum there. We had an appointment for ice-skating on Sunday, and since the day turned beautifully sunny, we let the Tezaurs to talk us into an outdoor rink in Palo Alto.

Naturally, the same idea came to several hundred other people, and already at the opening hour, a huge line wrapped around Winter Chalet. The staff issuing skates were completely discombobulated, not being able to hand over correct boot sizes; we had to switch the boots several times (when e.g. my Hippo was given a pair of women's figure-skating boots). Eventually we made it somehow through the process of putting on skates, and set out on the ice. Our juniors, who last year were ready to try skating without holding our hands, were anew surprised how slippery it was (here I must praise Winter Chalet for well maintained surface and sharp skates). Tommy enjoyed himself and soon began some independent moves, yet Lisa apparently decided that it had been too long since she last threw a multi-hour tantrum, and she erupted as soon a parent's hand withdrew for more than an inch form her. Subsequently she held on to the barrier and kept explaining to anyone willing to listen, how wonderfully she can skate; and alternatively, as soon as she found herself without a solid support, instead of skating she started crying.

Stormy ocean waves attack the cliffs of the Wilder Ranch State Park near Santa Cruz.

It even came to an "abandoned child" scene: I placed my dear daughter about a yard away from the barrier, pointing out that in only takes very little effort to cross the two-step distance into a safer position; Lisa decided she would not even try. After a while of convincing, I simply left her standing and sulking there, and I skate once around the rink to stretch and warm up a bit. Our cute, tiny, blonde princess, who was crying desperately, during this half-minute managed to collect around herself a handful of seasoned fan-girls, who did not hesitate to comfort her and also become properly indignant over such heartless parents. I must say that sometimes I would love to bend my sweet daughter over my knee and decidedly apply my hand; here I simply chased away emphatic women and gave Lisa a talking-to.

Hullo, princess Lisa speaking. Send chocolate.

Tommy was much more eager to learn and try things, and even handled well a moment when he tripped me so unfortunately that I fell right over him. Tom squealed but was getting up, I got helped by a dental-brace-wearing, about sixteen years old, employee. I don't know -- suddenly I felt like a seriously old woman. I'm sure I would have been able to get up by myself, and had the guy not yank my hand I would regain stability much faster. After the highpoint of our visit (rink surface maintenance break), so many people crowded in that it became practically impossible to move. Either one stumbled by tiny little strokes behind teen-aged Chinese girls, who in groups of in average five persons held each-other's hands and staggered across the ice, blocking all traffic in the process; alternatively one had to in the last split-second dodge tag-playing, approximately eight-years-old, professional skaters/hockey-players, who obliviously pushed through all these human cluster. Given the fact that Lisa had been more or less assuming her tantrum contortion for a while, we figured it was time for a retreat.
We would like Winter Chalet with about one quarter of people, and so in the future we shall adhere to our much less luxurious, and underground, skating rink in Cupertino, where one is permitted to skate.

A weekend before Thanksgiving approached slowly. We were looking forward to this date since we learned that our friends Pavlíček's might come to visit. Petra and Adam's children are only a few months offset in age from our own children, and back when all these kids were babies, Pavlíček's lived in Mountain View. Petra used to be my emergency brake -- I could go visit with her, and Tom would play with someone else's (and therefore wonderful) toys, while Lisa could remain undisturbed attached to her mother, who once again managed to finish a whole cup of tea before it turned cold. Petra also used to be my fore-runner in shopping of baby clothes and other stuff for them -- I learned from here what worked and what was useless, and where to turn for various things. Not counting loaners and similar help.

Miss Dixiana

In 2006 Pavlíček's moved to San Diego, which is mere eight hours by car away (like from Prague to Italy), and we haven't seen each other since. We have been long planning our trip south, but it always gets thwarted by things like children being sick, or having to buy and install new furnace, and again we went nowhere. Next year, perhaps?

Pavlíček's arrived on Friday evening. Verunka and Lukáš hesitated for a while, but then they disappeared somewhere in the house and we adults had the next ninety minutes for ourselves in the kitchen. Babies and toddlers, whom we used to keep watch over, have now become big kids, who nicely play together and only sometimes need our attention. They went to bed only about an hour late, but we risked it, having a whole weekend ahead of us.

Saturday's getting up was therefor somewhat more merciful (juniors crawled out of their bed about half hour later than usually). We had an uncoordinated breakfast -- I will never become a model hostess, who has fresh pancakes and poached eggs ready -- our visitors were given instructions regarding locations of strategic components (coffee, tea, waffles, yogurt), and minimum help, but otherwise had to be self-sufficient.

A rare moment when all four children look in the same direction (of a steam engine).

Despite having doubled our home population, our visitors and we managed to drive out before ten o'clock along highway 17 south. Our first stop was Felton, where they just got Miss Dixiana ready to pull the fun ride train, and we could watch the engine; then we checked out the redwood tree grove. Kids were issued head lamps and could crawl into Fremont's Tree; Tom discovered by the river another tree that one could walk through. By that time we were hungry, and proceeded to Santa Cruz and our favorite Sabieng for lunch.

Tom rumbled after the meal that he wanted to go home, but we eventually swayed him for the local aquarium. We haven't been there for a long time and so our kids enjoyed it. Although the Seymour Center is tiny, they show interesting exhibits (e.g. shark babies in their egg shell) and most importantly, sports a touch pool with sea stars and hermit crabs that our children love.

The still picture doesn't show how the shark baby wiggles in its egg.

Our afternoon was split -- Pavlíček's were invited to visit people they befriended before they moved to San Diego, while we were invited for coffee into Vendulka and Pavel's new house. They bought a nice one, made in a similar style like houses in our neighborhood, but completely renovated, and quite near to us (about six miles -- which in local context IS nearby). Martin and Bára (Vana's) too came to the party, and late Eva with her kids (her husband had to work), so I think it was a decent moving-in celebration (although I am not completely certain whether four kids screaming in their living room would not have a contraceptive effect on the fresh homeowners; only time will tell).

I must say that I'm probably really getting old, for after one little cider and two small beers, by eight p.m. I felt considerably uplifted, which resulted in me not being much fun, for I kept falling asleep. By then we made it back to our house, showered our kids quickly and subsequently dealt with a snake crisis. Pavlíčeks' kids brought along stuffed snakes, which immediately scored as the most awesome (and also most conflict-inducing) toys with our kids. Given that Lukáš and Verunka had not arrived yet, our children took their snakes into their respective beds. Pavlíček's came about five minutes after we turned off lights in our kids' room, and before they bathed their kids, our juniors were fast asleep and I could rip those snakes from their little hands and hand them back to their rightful owners.

So far all seemed problem-free. However, when Tom and Lisa woke up in the morning without the snakes, within five minutes of cracking their eyes open they were fighting each other about who stole and misplaced the respective snake. Ugh. Thus snakes made it onto the ever-growing list for Santa Claus. At least Tommy has learned to keep a good track of dates and passing of time, and he counts on Christmas and has been making sure we would decorate our house right after Thanksgiving, obtain a proper Christmas tree, and generally stick to the required time-table.