Silicon Valley Moms Blog

Get With the Game, America!

The World Cup tournament has kicked off, and just like we did four years ago (and every four years before that), our family has been following the tournament closely, watching at least one match a day, following the other matches online, painstakingly writing each match's score on our World Cup poster and testing our knowledge of probability to the limits by figuring out possible outcomes for our favorite teams (if Brazil draws with Portugal and Ivory Coast beats North Korea by more than 2 points, can they get past the Group of Death?).  As always, there's no shortage of emotion at the World Cup -- this year's tournament is already full of surprises (Switzerland beat Spain!), disappointments (England hasn't won a match yet!), controversies (Why was that third US goal against Slovenia disallowed??) and scandals (Two words: French team).  The nicest surprise is how well Team USA is doing; no one thought they'd have a chance, but the team managed to hold England to a tie and came back from a 2-goal deficit to tie Slovenia in the most exciting match in the tournament so far. If they beat Algeria tomorrow they stand a good chance of moving on to the next round, and who knows how far they could go? 

If only the rest of the United States would notice.  When we turn the tv off and head out into the streets, the lack of interest in the world's most popular game could not be more apparent.  This stuff makes headlines in every other nation on earth, but around here World Cup stories get buried deep in the sports pages of newspapers, and our local TV news barely gives the tournament five minutes of air time, let alone gives it a regular spot. When Mia Hamm, Brandi Chastain and the rest of the US Women's Team won the Women's World Cup in 1999, I thought for sure that football would finally start gaining traction in the US, but I'm not sure I'm seeing it.

I'm no Cinderella: I wear sensible shoes

Last week my sister and I went on a whirlwind trip to LA, where we attended the final two shows of American Idol Season 9.  We had nosebleed seats so high up that even if I had gone topless the camera couldn't have caught me, but we had an absolute blast.  I got to see the final 2 contestants perform, and I was there when America crowned Lee and bid farewell to Simon Cowell. I got to snap photos of lots of celebrities and I got to see the back of Simon's neck.

The trip was fun, even more so because it was such a radical departure from my everyday life.  I learned lots of interesting things, like how skinny and tiny celebrities really are, what happens when the show goes to commercial break and what people wear.  And I discovered that I do not have what it takes to make it in Hollywood.  Why?  Because nearly every female who mattered -- contestants, celebrities, news reporters, producers and aides, the hot chicks who line the front of the stage and DO get caught on camera, and half the audience (probably those from LA who want to get caught on camera) -- was wearing killer shoes.

Too Much TV

My name is Ana and I'm a TV addict.  I've only recently admitted this, and I probably would still be in denial except for the fact that we just bought our third household TV and set up satellite TV reception and DVR's (digital video recorders) for all three.  We've got the big flat screen TV in the living room, and last weekend we bought a smaller flat screen TV for our bedroom. The TV that used to be in our bedroom has now been moved into our guest bedroom. 

Why on earth do we need three TV's when there are only five people in our household, and three of them are allowed to watch TV only a couple of times per week?  Because, like so many people, that's what Alfie and I do after the kids go to bed: we watch TV. Yes, we also read and clean up and fold laundry.  I blog and surf the internet.  Alfie plays the guitar and writes code.  But at some point during the night, we always end up picking up that remote.  And we don't like to share. The second TV is there in case we want to watch different tv shows. We told ourselves we were getting the third TV so that whenever my parents or Alfie's parents came to visit, they could watch the show of their choice in the comfort and privacy of the guest room.  In reality, we got it so that we could have the big screen TV in the living room all to ourselves.

Keeping them on a leash

As newborns grow into babies, then into toddlers and preschoolers and beyond, it gets easier and easier to take care of them -- but one challenge that doesn't get any easier with age is how to keep track of your children in public places.  When they outnumber you, and when you have more children than hands, it's not just a challenge, it's a major source of grey hairs! 

I went from watching one demure little girl for my first two and a half years of parenthood, to keeping track of three children, two of which are rambunctious twin boys.  I still remember fondly the days when I could walk around with the boys sitting the stroller and my daughter riding on the little strollerboard.  The whole thing weighed a ton, but it was worth it to be able to keep everyone together.

Family Road Trip Tips no-one gives you

We just got back from our first long Family Road Trip, a four-day spring break trip to LA and Disneyland.  We do drive to Lake Tahoe or Reno or Yosemite Park at least once a year, but those drives don't usually take more than four hours, so this drive was a Big Deal.  When I was planning the trip (and trying to convince my husband to do it), I actually didn't think it would be so bad.  I've driven from Palo Alto to LA three times before, and on one of those trips I was behind the wheel the whole way.  None of those drives took longer than six hours.  I'll admit that I was single and carefree and I drove down I-5 doing 90 to 100 mph most of the time, but even with 3 kids who get bored after two hours of inactivity and a husband who needs to pee every hour, how long could it take? 

Pretty long, it turns out.  On the way down, we took Highway 101, which added an hour of travel time, stopped at the quaint little town of Solvang, which was nice, but added another two hours, then got stuck in LA traffic, which turned it into an 11-hour drive.  We took the quicker route (I-5) on the way back, but even that took almost 8 hours.  I guess I forgot the first rule of parenting:  Having Kids Changes Everything.

Little Boys in the Big Boys' Bathroom

My twin sons turned six at the end of December, which according to them, puts them in the "older kids but not teenagers category".  Which is true if you're a parent of a toddler -- I remember how I used to look at the kindergarden-age kids running through the park playstructure and put my arm protectively around my 3-year olds, warning them to "stay clear of the big boys".  Still, they have a point.  My boys are growing up. They ride two-wheelers and casterboards, understand the concept of passing to one another in soccer, play one-on-one basketball, routinely go on drop-off playdates, and have even ventured out into the local skate park. 

But there is one area where I still treat them like little boys:  when they have to go potty in a public place -- at the park, at Target, at a restaurant -- I still take them to the women's restrooms, not the men's. 

Why Everyone in Palo Alto Needs Measure A

This April, Palo Alto voters will be deciding whether or not to renew Measure A, a parcel tax that brings has brought in $9.4 million annually for Palo Alto public schools and is set to expire next year.  If approved, Measure A will extend our existing parcel tax for six years, providing the Palo Alto Unified School District with $11.2 million annually for 6 years.

With all the state funding reductions combined with growth in student enrollment, the revenue generated by this parcel tax is more crucial than ever.  Without it, we're risking larger class sizes and teacher layoffs, and we're endangering teacher training, arts and music programs -- all vital factors towards maintaining the high standards of our public schools. 

Do the Laundry, Now!

I hate doing laundry.  I mean it.  The constant sorting, washing, drying, folding, and putting away drives me crazy. Some people find satisfaction in ending up with clean, crisp clothes and linens, but all I can think about is how it's just going to get dirty in a matter of days (in my sons' case, minutes) and end up in the cycle once again.  If it weren't for my inconvenient preference for looking, smelling and being clean, I'd quit laundry duty in a second.

Some people deal with laundry by doing a little bit every day, to minimize the inconvenience and spread out the drudgery.  To me that's like going to the doctor every day to get your shots, instead doing them all at once -- it's painful, but it's a single appointment, single co-pay, single drive to the doctor's office.  I prefer to avoid laundry altogether until it absolutely can't be ignored, then go on an intensive laundry spree that's so drawn-out and painful that I need a long, long time to recover.  

Conquering Fear

If there's anything that distinguishes my son Jammy from his identical twin brother, it's his spirit of adventure.  Jammy has always been the "inquisitive one" who loves to try new things.  When he was eleven months old, he took it upon himself to explore the inside of our clothes dryer, and he hasn't stopped since.  He's the kind of kid who sticks his fingers into sockets and pushes all the buttons on the DVD player. He learned to bike on two wheels at age three, he was swinging on the monkey bars at age four and carving up the sidewalk on a caster board at age five.  At a recent rock climbing birthday party, Jammy was one out of only three boys to reach the top.  Jammy has a fearlessness that borders on recklessness; like most boys, he thinks he's invincible, and he pushes it to the limit.

It was almost inevitable that he'd come crashing down sooner or later, and boy did all his shenanigans catch up with him: last week he broke his arm.  It was quite a spectacular fall (so I hear; I wasn't there to witness it):  he fell six feet from a zip cord-launching platform at a friend's house and landed flat on his back, with his arm underneath him.  It was a bad break, with both the radius and the ulna completely snapped into two pieces.  When the radiologist lifted his arm onto the x-ray machine, the middle of his arm bent like it was a wrist (my skin is crawling just typing this).  His arm had to be twisted in order to get a good view, and poor Jammy was in agony.  It had to be reset (fortunately the doctors sedated him for this), and he's going to be in a cast for 6 to 8 weeks.

Saying Sorry to Your Kids

As far as days go, yesterday sucked.  To start with, it was raining hard when I woke up, and the sky was so dark that the morning sunlight failed to wake me up.  Our morning routine doesn't leave much room for unexpected delays, so waking up 10 minutes late, then taking another 5 minutes to wake the kids up threw our schedule into complete chaos.  I like waking up slowly, so I was grumpy from the start.

It was like we won the jackpot for Unexpected Delays.  The boys had no long pants left in their closets, so I had to raid the clean laundry basket (+1 minute).  Somebody spilled their glass of juice at breakfast (+1 minute).  I rushed everyone through breakfast and left the table in a mess, which made up for some lost time but left me feeling guilty and stressed.   And the delays kept coming.  The lunch boxes had been left in the van the night before (+2 minutes).  It was raining, so there was a mad scramble for raincoats and waterproof shoes (+3 minutes).  Someone had misplaced an umbrella (+5 minutes).  Each delay chipped away at my temper, so that by the time we left home, I had degenerated into an evil-tempered mess.