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I knew we’d eventually find ways to make our grey water recycling more efficient.

my friend Cindy had a great suggestion for how to keep track of your independent child in highly populated areas – tie a balloon to the kid.

(I swear this is the last post today.)

I have to admit I am thoroughly enjoying the interest in potty training our Terrible Twos have brought to the house. Yesterday, Sylvie lit up when I asked her if she wanted to use the potty at work. The Self-flushing potty. I had never thought that thing was so exciting! But she certainly found it cool, and she used it.

Today, she’s disappeared into the bathroom and come back pants/diaperless a few times with a new diaper in hand. She even sorts through the diaper bin to find the pullups (vs the baby diaper variety) that she can pull on like a skirt, but needs assistance once it occurs to her that perhaps both legs don’t go through the same leghole.

The unsuccessfully potty training neighbor keeps telling us that Sylvie is too young to use the potty.

This is really about Me and micro-Doug, but I can humor myself.

As I mentioned earlier, Sylvie’s nanny is ill, so she’s been hanging out with me the past two days. Yesterday she came to the office where she had a great time drawing on the white boards and climbing up and down our step stool. (Imagine that could be 6 hours of fun for someone!)

Today, we’re home watching Sesame Street, having tea parties and cuddling. (Some of us are trying to work through all of this!) She really plays well on her own and also communicates her needs well. I just set out a few props, show her how it is done and she launches into creative, independent play. When she’s hungry, she goes into the pantry and returns with food, saying “Opie.” (Not versed in Sylvie? Opie=open) Tired? She drags her blanket over to me and asks to “Up” on the sofa to cuddle me. Will was never really into Sesame Street, but Sylvie is enjoying it today. She sings and dances along.

No video, but here are a few pictures of the tea party from earlier.

Oh, and here’s a picture of the sweater I knit on our drive to and from Tahoe modeled by my very independent Sylvie. While I was working yesterday, she went into the kitchen, opened the freezer drawer, retrieved coolwhip (we had coolwhip??), sat on her step. I caught her when I heard huge, “YUMMM!”s coming from the steps.

I’m not sure if I’ll always be a week behind in updating the blog on my latest knitting, but here’s the knit from 2 weeks ago, a scarf for Will. (The Tahoe knit was another sweater for Sylvie, but isn’t captured in pixels, yet)

We spent the past weekend in Tahoe at the cabin, and the past two days our Nanny has been very ill leaving me to juggle work and micro-me, so I’m just now getting the chance to record our recent events.

Ah, Tahoe.
We’ve been watching Deadwood thanks to NetFlix about the North Dakota gold rush in Deadwood during the 1800s, so I was particularly interested in the gold mining history in the towns on the drive to and from Tahoe. In memorial to that history, many of the towns have statues of men panning for gold. Some maintain an old timey downtown area with 2 story wooden buildings occupied by businesses like Calamity Jane’s Confections or Wild Bill’s Steakhouse. Most of the gold in these parts is in the form of tourism money, as for a few bucks a person, you can buy your own vial of gold dust and the opportunity to try your hand at gold panning. I’m sure we’ll be wading in the frigid waters in a few years when the kids are old enough.

It is also interesting to me to think about how people traveled to their destinations long before cars. Our 3 hour drive from San Francisco to Tahoe would have been a common route, but with the Sierras and the heavy woods, I can’t imagine it was a quick or comfortable trip on horseback or in wagon. Thank goodness we were born in the modern day.

Our Tahoe trip was quite pleasant. Thanks to the heatwave, even the cool evenings only dipped into the 50s. Will somehow got it in his head that we’d be going fishing in Tahoe, so we spent the 3 hour drive discussing what he might catch (not sharks or rays or jellyfish; maybe crabs, crawdads and probably fish) and how he’d catch them (with fish marshmallows on his hook or worms – neither are for us to eat) and how he’d bait the line (by sticking a pointy hook THROUGH the worm). It was one of those conversations I wish we’d have taped. Sylvie spent the drive paging through her books.

We spent Saturday on the beach. The highlight was Will and Sylvie catching 5 crawdads in the rocks around the swiming area. Sunday, we took a boat ride around Donner Lake. Will got to steer for a bit. He was so proud. When I told him he was doing a great job, he smiled ear to ear and said, “You like how I drive the boat?” Doug asked him if he was a pirate steering his pirate ship, eliciting more proud, ear to ear grins. After lunch, Doug, Sylvie and I headed home, leaving Will with the grandparents.

I have to say, the quiet in our house without Will is deafening. We’ve checked in on him a couple of times, and know he is doing well, but boy is it sad without him. I think Sylvie is enjoying being an only child, esp since she’s had non-stop mommy attention due to the ill Nanny, but we all miss Will’s enthusiasm. I’d also taken for granted how much we use peer pressure to maintain order. Without Will, there is no one to encourage Sylvie to stay at the table. (Without Sylvie, there’d be no one to convince Will to EAT.) Doug and I have both been buying gifts for Will in excited anticipation of his return, Friday.

Here’s the kids eating popsicles while I packed:

The kids in Tahoe:

Shortly after kids are able to walk and climb and after they’ve acquired just enough language, they hit what we all know as the “terrible twos”. My experience is that this doesn’t happen after the second birthday, and it isn’t exactly terrible. We’re going through it right now with my very independent 19 mos old.

The terrible twos really start the moment your little one realizes that she is her own person. And this age is terrible only because every second of the day suddenly becomes about defining her identity. I expect this is preparation for the epic battle of teenager-hood.

I would consider myself a reasonably lax parent.  I give the kids the freedom to fall (safely) so they learn to be careful. I let them feed themselves so that they learn how to manage silverware and cups. As long as it looks like science, I’m reasonably permitting when it comes to mess making. So for me, some of this struggle is just sad, as often enough it involves an excruciatingly frustrated little person that just isn’t able to do all the things s/he wants to be able to for no other reason than because s/he just isn’t ready. I remember all too many knock down, drag out tantrums over another 1.5 year old wanting to dress himself but not being quite able to maneuver that shirt over his head and then find the armholes.  All we could do was stand back and let him scream and yell, having no idea what sparked the incident, just helpless observers of the kid’s inner turmoil.

The less sad tantrums are frustrating for everyone. Those are the battles that occur when you are in a hurry or starving and low on patience (and blood sugar) at the end of everyone’s day. Those are the battles over who gets to pull the bag off the roll, choose the tomato, insert the tomato in the bag and then carry it – the gentle adult or the determined but imprecise and rough little person? Or the battles over holding hands when crossing the street – which aren’t so much about holding hands, but the fact that holding MY hand symbolizes me holding HER back. These are the battles that are easily avoided when everyone is well rested and well fueled, which parents of 19 mos olds rarely are. These are the battles that you are somehow so much more prepared for and creative in avoiding with OTHER people’s children, but with your own, leave you feeling like you are completely unfit to be a parent.

So, okay, yeah. The Terrible Twos are terrible. And I’m sure I will find the humor in our battles in another couple of years, when I am able to look back and think objectively about that plump little person defiantly throwing herself on the ground in the store because she didn’t want to use the bag I chose, or pick the unblemished apricot I chose, she wanted to do it all herself. I have to admit, it was cute. Just not at the time.

I think the secret to getting through this unscathed is to keep reminding myself of the reason we’re having these battles. What’s a few blemished and smushed apricots if it is just one step closer to growing a self-confident little person? Oh, and it probably wouldn’t hurt to never leave home without a pocket of energy-packed almonds.

I was searching the NYT archives for an article referencing the research published in New Scientist suggesting that people who drink four or five cups of coffee a day are 34 percent less likely to die of heart disease than the rest of us, and found an article from Oct 21, 1914 in the NYT stating that heavy coffee drinkers are just drug addicts. To be fair, the central statement of this article made by Dr. C. J. Douglas is not as damning as the headline. Dr. Douglas explains that there are two reasons people drink coffee and tea – because they enjoy the flavor or because they enjoy the stimulative effects of caffeine. The latter case is probably not good for the health.

I’m just amused that the NYT ever found this 8 sentence quote newsworthy.

Doug and Will get bagels on their way to Carlos’ every Tuesday. This morning, a homeless man walked into the bagel store, up to the counter, took a cup and then left. Will asked Doug, “Why did he just take the cup?” Doug explained that the man was going to use the cup to beg for money. Will’s response, “Money for college?”

… once the quiet has grown tiresome – Doug suggested these dog tags or bracelettes so that if the kids are found, someone might return them to their rightful owner.