Silicon Valley Moms Blog

Oh Goody – No Goody Bags!

The other day, my girls went to a birthday party at Cucina Bambini in Willow Glen. They had been to a birthday party there the previous year and had a blast. They got to create their own personal pizza and then decorate a cupcake. It’s one of those “experience” birthday parties in which the activity itself is entertainment aplenty. During pick up time, all manner of kids and adults are moving and talking at the same time. As I encouraged my girls to go say Thank You to the parents and a last Happy Birthday to the celebrant before departing, one of my daughters asked me, “What about my goody bag?”

Ugh. My first thought was thank goodness, no one heard that but me. I quickly reminded her that not all birthday parties give out goody bags at the end. I’ve told my girls this over and over…only to be thwarted by the parents of the birthday celebrant as they hand each of my girls a little goody bag. After a birthday party a month ago, one of my girls couldn’t stop herself from saying, “See, Mommy? Everyone gives out goody bags.” What could I say? It was a lesson they wouldn’t learn until it happened.

I admit that I am one of the worst in this respect. I have given out goody bags for every birthday party I have thrown for my twins…having my girls do it the last couple of times. They get a kick out of it. I get a kick out of their enjoyment of making them and giving them out to each friend. I’m one of the parents that won’t help her and other kids learn that lesson – that goody bags should not be considered part of the birthday party scene. That it’s something they should not expect whenever they attend a party. I’d already told them that we give out goody bags as a way to say Thank You for coming to our party and giving them a little remembrance of the special event. I am guilty.

As Kindergarten Ends, New Friendships Begin

Kindergarten. Our girls’ first full year in public school will soon be over with memories aplenty to mark the myriad activities and events they participated in and the new friends they made. This will be our girls’ fourth change with respect to new classes, friends and coursework. From one preschool to another and then to the big one - Kindergarten at our local public elementary school. Each change meant “leaving” friends and making new ones (after a short period of shyness and hesitation). I didn’t really feel the sadness in the changes like my girls. After all, I was mostly there for drop off and pick up. I generally looked ahead to the next year and the new things they would learn. I looked forward to real school (i.e. elementary school). But this year, it’s different for I feel a twinge of sadness, too.

I’d always told myself I would devote some amount of time to helping in my girls’ classroom when they entered public school. This year, I signed up for Art Vistas and Centers. While my intention was to assist teachers wherever I could – another set of hands to help with things - I didn’t consider that there would be other benefits to being in the classroom. For one, I got to know my girls’ classmates. For another (just as important), I got to know some of the parents, particularly other moms.

And before I knew it, here was a new circle of friends. Over the year, we shared stories from helping in the classroom, supported each other when an art project could use an extra set (or two or three) of hands to supervise the kids, split up a few tasks to help make a class event or activity run smoothly – and shared a few drinks to take a break from motherhood if only for a few hours. There was a solidarity that I didn’t expect and it was is nice.

Going Back To School

Years ago, I received a card for my college graduation with the words “School’s out forever!” scrawled on a red brick wall. Oh how I loved that card. I kept it for several years tacked onto a bulletin board, well into my professional life. It underscored exactly how I felt at that time – done. I had no plans for an advanced degree nor did I have any designs on a career that would require a higher level of education. I did not rue the end of my school days. I was ready to be done studying for the rest of my life. But how could I have known that one of life's twists would have me marrying a Norwegian?

Morning alarm at 6:30 am. A quick breakfast. A morning rush to catch the bus for almost an hour-long ride to campus. Class start at 10:15 am. Midterm and final exams. My life this summer for six weeks. A student again. This mom is going back to school; summer school that is. In Oslo, Norway. Talk about an extreme change of pace. Who woulda thunk?

But no, this is not in pursuit of a graduate degree or anything noble like that. I think of it as part of a strategy to maintain some semblance of sanity during my girls’ impending pubescent years. There will be one thing they don’t have on me and that’s understanding Norwegian. There will be no hiding their secrets behind a foreign language, no talking back, and no foul language, no sirrrrrrreeeeee. I will be on to them. bwahahahaaaaaaaaa  ::evil laugh:: Seriously though, it’s time to move beyond the contextual Norwegian I’ve come to learn. I’d promised myself years ago that I would expend the brain power to learn Norwegian when my girls started speaking. That time is now (well, a couple of years late). Norwegian I at the University of Oslo.

My Little Corner of Fame

“Hey, your wife is that writer, isn’t she?” asked the butcher at our favorite grocery store. 

My husband wasn’t quite sure he was talking to him. “Oh, my wife? She’s a photographer,” he replied. 

“Yea, but she writes, too. For that web site. That blog. I saw it in the Mercury News,” the butcher insisted. 

Then it dawned on my husband. Oh yea, he’s talking about Silicon Valley Moms Blog.  He smiled and nodded. Oh yea, that’s right. She is a writer.  

Martial Arts = Life Skills, Lifestyle

It has begun. My girls just turned 6 years old. They’re ready and coordinated enough to begin their martial arts training. But this is not just another sport for them to try out and decide if they want to keep going – at least in my family. This isn’t soccer or tennis or basketball or other sports that we’ve deemed voluntary or experiential to see if they really have a talent and desire for it. Nope, this is one of those life skills. They will do this until they’re proficient. I just hope they like it (and they do so far…whew!).

No, for my girls, this is something you do. This is something they’re going to stay with for the next few years – with no option to quit. This is a mommy-thing and honestly, I’m not entirely sure my husband agrees with me. I have a feeling he looks at it as just another sport to try out but soon, I think he’ll see how committed I am to their training. Besides, he’s always been tall…and a guy. He can’t truly understand how important it is for a girl to grow up knowing how to defend herself – mentally and physically – and the benefits of having that mindset, that confidence, that discipline.

Just as my husband has introduced them to winter activities like skiing (downhill and cross-country), sledding and ice skating – as required experiences (he’s Norwegian, after all); sports he’s willing to put effort and investment into so they become proficient, so it goes with martial arts.

A Parcel Tax Should Be A No-Brainer

The other day, I received a phone call from an official from our school district. She was soliciting opinions and voting intentions from the residents in our neighborhood. In light of the statewide budget cuts (again!) from our public education system, the district is seeking a vote on a parcel tax to make up for the loss in funds. A total of $6 million is being sought in which $1.3 million would be designated for our district. I should think that in this valley of affluence and highly prestigious institutions of higher learning, this would be a no-brainer. “Certainly!” I replied. Of course we would vote for such a tax and yes, I’d be happy to have a sign placed in my front yard, proclaiming my support. I’m pretty sure I heard a tone of relief and gratitude in her voice. Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s a no-brainer for some (or many).

I’m one of those parents that, in light of the hundreds of charities and organizations that I could support financially through donations, I usually stick to those that my girls would be directly involved in as my primary standard of choice - and the public school system is one of them. I grew up in the California public school system…but back then, it was considered one of the top systems in the country (a point my parents happily pointed out from time to time).

But I wonder, if I’d chosen to place my girls in a private school of some sort, would I vote for the measures out there right now that would supplement the diminishing state funds for the local public school system through a parcel tax? Taxing my personal property? Why would I want this to happen?

From One Generation To Another [Older] One

This morning my mother called to say how much she loved the voice message my daughters left on their answering machine (especially that song, “I’m A Barbie Girl In A Barbie World…” Yes, fodder for another blog post – in which the blame is placed solely on my husband…but I digress).  My mother asked me for my email address for my uncle, her brother. Ohmigoodness, I could not stop laughing. Here’s how it went.

Me: “Sure, Mom. Don’t you have it?”
Mom: “Oh Linda. You know I don’t know that technology thing.”
Me [smiling]: “OK, Mom. [So, I told her what it was.] Got it? Remember, that’s lindad all together with no space and Solheim Photography all together, too. No space.”
Mom: “OK. LindaD together. And what else? At sign?
Me: “Yea. The @ sign.”
Mom: “OK. Is that a-t-s-i-g-n all together? No space?”
Me: “What? [Realization struck] No, Mom. [I burst out laughing.] It’s the @ sign, you know, the symbol with the small a with a ring around it?” [Still laughing.] “It’s on your keyboard above one of the numbers.”
Mom: “Oh Linda. I don’t know where that is. I’ll just write this [a-t-s-i-g-n] in my letter to your uncle. He’ll figure it out. And that’s Solheim Photography all together, no space?”
Me: “Yes, Mom.”
Mom: “OK. Now, what is that dot?”
Me [burst of laughter again]: “A dot. A period.”
Mom: “Oh OK. A dot and a period.”
Me [laughing]: “No, Mom. Just write a period. Then com.”
Mom: “Com?”

I should note that my mom started laughing as soon as I did. She has a great sense of humor and has no problem laughing at herself. It was probably the most entertaining conversation I’ve had with my mother in a long while. Usually, we’re simply handing the phone to our girls so they could chat with their grandparents. Most of our conversations are relatively short with quick summaries of our days or my parents’ latest doctor visits, parties and church singing. But in this conversation, I remembered how different a world ours is from hers.

A Project Just For Me

As my kids have gotten older, I’ve gained more time to myself. My twin girls are now in Kindergarten and I have more time to grow my young photography business. I started a different company years ago – in scrapbooking. In doing so, I learned a lot about myself – my likes, dislikes, strengths, weaknesses. And the one important thing I found is that with a more artistic vocation, you need to feed that creative well for it can easily become depleted or go stale.

Many a mom’s day is like mine. When I wake up in the morning, my first thought is to awaken my daughters, get them dressed and hurry downstairs to grab breakfast. There usually isn’t much time for dilly-dallying. Until they’re dropped off safely at school or extended care, I’m concerned that they’re occupied getting ready for the day’s activities. But after they’re out of the house, it’s just me running my business or doing photo sessions and all the related tasks that entails. Photography, though, is a creative endeavor. If you hand a paintbrush to a person, you don’t expect them to create a Monet right off the bat. It’s no different with photography. If you hand a person a camera, you don’t expect a Leibovitz. Any great name, any great artist has taken years to develop her particular talent, her definitive creative stamp and periodically, replenish it.

Kids Skiing? It’s All In The Attitude

This is our girls’ sixth season on skis…albeit, cross-country skis. This is their third season skiing downhill. They are five years old, turning six in two months. I’m often asked when can kids start skiing? I tell them, “As soon as they can stand, you can put them on skis.” The usual reply is a smile and a “yea, rrrrrrrrrright,” look in the eyes. But seriously, that’s what we did – with plenty of photographic documentation to prove it. Hahaha But seriously, being married to one of those crazy Norwegians for over 10 years and some things just don’t seem so crazy anymore. In truth, it’s all about the attitude.

My husband is Norwegian, green card and all. He speaks 100% Norwegian to our girls, (though for our girls’ homework assignments, he’ll switch to English to read English books). He has been quite diligent in making sure our girls experience all things Norwegian – holiday traditions, Norwegian songs and stories, language and whatever else comes up. Part of what he has passed on is this Norwegian attitude about things, particularly when wintertime rolls around. “There is no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothes,” is just one of the sayings that underscores everything he does in the snow. Beyond the obvious meaning [of this saying], there is a broader mindset behind it…that is, you can’t blame the weather for being bad, it is what it is and you just need to have the right clothes, equipment and attitude to live in it and enjoy.

No Resolutions...Just A Word

I’m not a resolutions person. For many years, I’ve tried and I’ve tried and all I have to show for myself by the end of a few months or so (not even close to a year) is guilt. Guilt that I didn’t stick with it (yes, I wrote everything down and put them up on the fridge). Guilt that I let myself down (one more goal unreached). Guilt, guilt, guilt. (What can I say? I’m Catholic.) So I gave up. New years resolutions seem like such a cool idea but execution always seems to elude me. The thing is, I’d love to have something new for the new year. Not a new gift, Christmas just passed. Not a new thing…just something that’s for me to symbolize a new year has begun. And I think I found it – a word.

One of my old scrapbooking friends is also a pretty fantastic designer of digital stuff – particularly for photographers like myself. So, I keep up with her latest goings-on. She has also become quite a source of inspiration for some things I’m doing this year and one of them is this word-thing. She had FB’d (Facebook for those not yet immersed) about her word for the year. Huh? What a cool idea. A single word for the year? Interesting. She pointed to a blog by a very well-known scrapbooker/designer, Ali Edwards, who started this public tradition a few years ago.