Butterflies ARE real!

Yesterday we visited the new CA Academy of Sciences in Golden Gate Park. I had heard glowing and not so glowing reviews, so I wasn't sure what to expect. My expectations were pretty low, especially since I thought the "old" Academy of Sciences was just fine when they closed it five years ago.

I have to say, it was pretty cool.

Rosie, MiniMe and I met up with St. NanNan and my neice Pearl, who is MiniMe's age. First off we went to the aquarium. Obviously someone from the Academy took a trip to the Monterrey Bay Aquarium and took notes. There was a giant (though not as giant as Monterrey) CA coral reef in which a miked diver submerges and talks to the audience. It really was beautiful and the girls were excited to see all the fish and "sea enemies". They had the obligatory "feel the star fish" station, which was enjoyed by everyone under 10.

But there was no more Roundabout. I used to love going round and round up into the circular tank, where the tuna swam dizzyingly around and around. It was all dark, and they had benches......but I digress.

I was pretty impressed by the cafe. It was very San Francisco. Or at least very California. Everything from fish and chips (fried right in front of you) to lamb curry or sushi. The prices were $8-12 per entree. Not too bad if compared to lunch anywhere else in the City.

But the best part of the day was a visit to the....well...it was a sort of aviary. There's probably a sciency name for it, but I can't remember. It was a huge enclosure with a ramp spiraling around the outer edge, three levels high. In it were a fair number of pretty yellow birds, and an abundance of butterflies. It was especially meaningful for me and MiniMe, because a few weeks ago she asked me, "Mama, are butterflies real?" Oops. Guess we haven't been getting outside enough....

She so wanted to see "real" butterflies. And boy did she. Black ones with yellow spots on the wings, blue wings on top with brown underneath, all different kinds of flying beauties. But the pinnacle of excitement occurred when a butterfly landed on MiniMe's hand! The look on her face was magic. Wondrous. (why didn't I bring my camera?) Then, I was lucky enough to have one land on my arm. Then it camped out there for a few minutes (my shirt was green). People were taking pictures of my arm. Finally, I raised my arm to shoo it off, but lowered it quickly when I beheld my flab swinging. "Blowing it off will do just fine - thank you very much!" And off it went. The other girls were a little disappointed that they didn't butterflies on them.

After the butterfly extravaganza (which also included cute little orange frogs, geckos...etc.) we visited the African Hall. It was very similar to the old hall, sans the benches. What's up with that? Why don't they have benches for us tired old folks? Anyways, the stuffed animals were almost exactly as they were before. The one difference was the penguins. They were in Africa Hall, instead of the aquarium. Are there penguins in Africa? I didn't think so......but now I'm not sure.

The end of the visit saw us sitting outside in the park between the Academy and the de Young museum. The girls built forts out of branches that had been cut off the trees in the park, which we enjoyed the benches.

So, overall I give the place a moderately enthusiastic thumbs up. We didn't go to the planetarium, and missed the climate change section. More things to check out next time!

Your standard rant

I am going to take a moment and vent about the restrictions of my blog.

About half the time when I think ,"It would be cool to write about that!" - I CAN'T. Self censorship. Might offend. Might reveal too much. Might hurt.

Then, when I consider what I would like to write about, I'm always thinking about who actually reads this blog. I don't know everyone, but I know a few of the folks who check-in here. "What would she think about that?" and "Would he like that?" float through my head.

I mean, who is this blog for anyways?

It was supposed to be for me, to make "A Serious Attempt at Fun". But often, the funniest things going on in my life are my crazy interactions with my family and friends. But SafetyMan is ubercautious. ARG is a teenager (do I need to say anything else?). Friends read here and so I can't rant about them.

UGH!

So, what? I'm left with politics? I am so over my head in disgust at what's going on right now, I wouldn't know where to start. I think I'm psychically bummed to be living in America during it's decline (it's true, I heard it on NPR!)

Plus, I'll be honest. the intellectual rigor it takes to make my position compelling, or even clear, is a bit much for me right now. I feel like I would need to devote more time and energy to it than would be good for the fam.

So anyways. BLAH.

Why don't I just quit this thing? I don't know. I suppose I still feel a spark in there that wants to come out. A part of me that wants to reach out and communicate and share.

Man, this is the angst I feel over a little blog. I feel for real writers.

Home Again

We're back from rainy San Diego. You think it should've been sunny? So did I.

We had a most terrifying experience while in the Southland. The day I picked to visit the cousins who live in Temecula (about an hour east of San Diego), it was raining cats and dogs. I drove out with the kiddos that morning, at a slower speed than usual. All went well, until it was time to exit the freeway.

As I moved into the slow lane in order to take the next exit, my car began to hydroplane. And I mean we were gliding off the bleeping road! I don't know where I learned this, but somehow I knew not to do anything dramatic. No brakes. No turning. Foot off the gas. So amidst my panicked shouting, "Sh&#$t! Sh&#$t!", we veered off the road. I turn the wheel slightly to the left, and we veered back onto the road, and into the second lane. I thought, "We're going to crash!"

ARG yelled, "What?!?" and I screamed, "We're hydroplaning!"

Then it was over. The wheels got friction again, and we were able to get off at our exit. Man! My heart was pounding. My back was so tight! Hands were shaking. I couldn't talk. I was panting. We probably were out of control for about 7-10 seconds, but it seems an eternity when you are going 60mph on a freeway and your kids are all in the car.

Oddly, the girls in the backseat never knew anything was wrong until it was over. They were busy playing, I guess. But ARG knew. He said later, "I knew something was wrong when you started to swear."

Wouldn't that be sad if my last words were profane? Oh, how I wish I could change that bad habit of swearing when I'm scared. I don't really do it otherwise.

Anyhow, we made it safe and sound. But I think I'll avoid freeway driving if possible when it's raining that hard. Freeways flood too easily.

Other than our near death experience, we had a lovely time in San Diego. The in-laws take such great care of us. I don't have to cook. Kids don't do school. Lots of field trips, movies, visitng, eating and sleeping in.

What could be better? I think I'll make this mid-February trip a tradition.

The Self-Esteem Trap

My oldest friend mentioned something about The Self-Esteem Trap the other day. It's a new book about kids and self-esteem and parenting. I read oodles of that kind of psychobabble about ten years ago, and then gave it up. Too many experts, too many agendas, too much nonsense.

But today I saw the book in the library, flipped to the middle and read a page. It seemed to describe one or two of my children pretty accurately, so I checked it out.

Now I know only a certain kind of person comments on a book after reading only two chapters. I'm that person today (mostly because I'm leaving on vacation tomorrow, and won't have time to a. finish the book today or b) post again any time soon).

The gist of the intro and first two chapters is this: by praising and encouraging our kids' every move, we have created children who suffer from "obsessive self-focus, restless dissatisfaction, pressures to be exceptional, unreadiness to take on adult responsibilities, feelings of superiority (or inferiority), and excessive fears of being humiliated".

Basically, if parents congratulate kids for merely existing, they'll never develop their inner sense of when they are doing well, and when they are off base. Moreover, by protecting kids from adversity (don't we all try to do that?) we are depriving them of opportunities for growth. How will they develop confidence that they can handle difficult situations, if they never face them?

Finally! Someone is recognizing that the pendulum of parenting has swung too far. In reaction to old-style parenting that was strict, critical and less honoring of the individual, the self-esteem push of the 80's and 90's has gone out of control, creating a whole new set of psychological, emotional problems for kids.

I think I'll finish the book. Or at least keep reading until I disagree a lot. But so far, so good.

Application to my parenting?

My kids need more adversity! Woo Hoo! Imagining and creating difficult situations for each one..... MWA...HA..HA..HA.......

If you care....

I'm seeing it all over FB. It used to make the rounds on the blogs.

So in my time honored fashion of being at least 6 months behind the curve of popular culture, I now give to you:

25 Random Things about Me:

- I am a coffee snob (yay Peets! boo Starbucks)

- I need like to sleep at least 9 hours each night.

- I went to a private Jesuit university where I met Hubby.

- I am tall, but I have shrunk 1/2 inch over the last twenty years.

- I am compulsively on-time.

- I speak Spanish mas o menos.

- I do NOT enjoy when my daughter tells me the story of whatever video she has just watched.

- In high school and college I was a DeadHead. I even toured one summer.

- I don't like children's games. I find them boring.

- I have fond memories of drinking absinthe with my brother in Spain and Portugal during college.

Giving a fundraising speech when I was 24 to a room with about 200 Hewlett Packard employees who were forced to listen was one of the hardest things I've ever done.

- I never know what to do with my hair. Bangs? Layers? Long? Ponytail?

- I once thought that if Hubby died (before kids) I would go be a nun in El Salvador.

- I am afraid of being attacked by a shark in the ocean. And of flying (though I'm getting better at that).

- I attended a Left Fest, a fair celebrating communism around the world, in Madrid in 1988 (Reagan's last year in the White House).

- People often think I am "down" or upset when I'm not (I'm just lucky that way).

- I thought I was a Star Wars freak, until my son got way more into it than I ever was (he, of course, is way over that now).

- One of my favorite places to visit is Washington DC.

- Once, I almost converted to Catholicism.

- Polish Pottery makes me happy.

- When I was young I was a great swimmer. I'm still pretty good (when I train).

- I have a crush on John Adams and George Washington.

- I prefer skiing to snowboarding, but prefer sitting in front of a fire with a hot cocoa to both.

- In high school I spent a summer digging latrines in rural Mexico.

- Thanks to Hubby, I am a Mac person. I'm completely helpless on a PC - or whatever they are called these days.

- I can't count very well.

The Future

Sometimes I wonder about what I'll do after the kids are gone. Right now it's so far off. That time of my life seems very hazy and distant. But I think I'll have to start working towards something when MiniMe is about ten, so I'll be ready to jump into a career as she transitions to high school and college.

What have I been thinking about? (darn those dangling participles!) Well, my first passion is history. The idea of spending the rest of my life immersed in the lives and societies of the past, and applying what they experienced and learned to the present sounds delicious. I could teach. I could write. I would love to teach college, or maybe high school. But after dealing with often reluctant students in my own home for umpteen years, I don't know how excited I'll be to teach reluctant high schoolers. But I'd love to go back and get a masters of PhD in history. That would be true fun.

Then I think about what God calls me to do. The Big Guy Upstairs hasn't exactly made it crystal clear what I'm to do aprés kids, only that right now they are my focus and ministry. Period. Probably He knows that if I knew where I was be headed in the future, I'd start heading there now. I'm impatient like that. I move quickly when I know something needs to be done. Sometimes too quickly.

I fantasize about helping people more. Young mothers. Teenage girls. Women who are abused or threatened. But does this need to be a career/job? Or just a ministry within the church. I don't know. I look forward to working outside the home again. But I hope it can be in an area that I love, or at least feel called to do.

But for now, it's quadratic equations, resistors and conductors, predicate adjectives, Ancient Greeks and lots and lots of reading to the girls. It's OK. It's what I want to do. But still, it's nice to think about the future.

She Showed Me

MiniMe did it again.

She showed me who was boss.

Last night as I was helping her get ready for bed, we had a wee disagreement. I wanted her to clean up her ballerina magnet doll, get into her jammies and bed in a reasonable amount of time. She, on the other hand, wanted to put her ballerina magnet doll clothes away in a particular order (because that really matters!), which would take about ten minutes.

I warned her three times that the time she spent matching shoes, pairing skirts with tops...etc. would count as "playing" time and would reduce "reading" time before bed (c'mon, I was tired and uninterested in a prolonged 'putting to bed' time). I even grabbed all the pieces and threw them in the box at one point. But no. She dumped them all back out and began the process all over again. One shoe...now where is that shoe's partner?

Ugh! After a few minutes I grabbed the whole kit and caboodle, put it in the closet, while informing her that she had lost her "reading" time in bed.


Oh! the tears. Oh! the laments. Oh! the begging pathetically with snot dripping out. I withstood these attempts to soften my resolve, got her in her jammies, placed her in bed (with books for HER to look at), turned on the music, turned down the light, said, "I love you!" and left. Big exhale.

A few hours later I slowly realized I was hearing her crying. She had been silent until then. She was really going strong and Hubby made it to her first. Guess where he found her?

Under her bed. Stuck. Screaming.

Yep. She showed us. She positively WON'T sleep in her bed when she's mad at us. Somewhere in her little mind she thought she was getting back at me for the 'no story" consequence. She had gotten out of bed, crawled under the bad and fallen asleep. But when she woke up and tried to get out from under the bed, she couldn't. Hence the crying.

I asked her this morning, and she doesn't remember the crying part at all. Or daddy rescuing her and cuddling her back to sleep in her bed.

She only remembers with pride, "I didn't sleep in my bed because I was mad."

I can't decide if this episode is super-cute, or super-crazy, or both.