Silicon Valley Moms Blog

Chasing Mr. David

I hesitated at first, as tends to be my tendency, standing towards the back, my old insecurities resurfacing. I wanted to dance. The music was live and it was brilliant and I'd secretly yearned to unleash the cool moves I'd practiced so many times in front of the mirror at home, starting when I was a teen. (Everyone does that, right? right?!) The stunned crowd stared motionless, electrified by the sounds of the acoustic guitar. I could feel the energy building and suddenly, we exploded into off beat movement, with some of us running in circles and some of us jumping up and down spastically. A few of us cried.

"Mommy, I'm standing on the J!" my then two-year-old son had shouted, bopping to the music.

"And I'm on the L, " his twin brother chimed in, bopping as well.

"Yes, " I'd shouted back, glancing at the circle time rug, "You certainly are!" 

Such was my introduction to the music of Bay Area family musician, Mr. David. He'd come to perform at  our old co-op preschool that day, toting a blue guitar and a bongo drum. For the briefest of moments, I was my long gone twenty-something self, dressed in black and out clubbing in San Francisco, hiding lurking

I want to tell you about this great new preschool

The notices had gone out. Friends who had already received theirs had promptly filled in the dates of their calenders. I envisioned the bold, black ink scrawled across the month of July,

<-----S U M M E R  S C H O O L----->>

I glanced down at my Busy Body Book, turning to the page in which I'd hastily penciled in, "summer school?" The pages of summer were all so woefully blank. I reread the forwarded email from my friend, searching for my name.

"I didn't see your email address. Did you get this email?"

No, I didn't.

Don't Laugh - I Flowbee My Boys!

We'd been talking about first haircuts, my friend and I, sharing notes, as usual, about the day to day minutiae of parenting twins. "My boys got certificates for their first haircuts, " I told her, explaining the whole kiddie salon scene of car stations and nooks full of toys. "Nope, " replied my friend, "we Flowbee'd our boys instead."

You did what to your boys? Is that even a verb? Sheepishly, my friend went on to explain that her husband had been (proudly!) using a Flowbee to cut his hair for well over a decade and was now thrilled to be able to use it on their young sons. (See him in action, here.) For the uninitiated, the Flowbee is a gag gift hair cutting system whereby you attach a special hose to your vacuum cleaner and basically vacuum cut your hair. Voila! No mess, no hassle.

In my attempt to visualize the whole process, I laughed. Oh, please. I'm an Aveda Concept Salon kind of gal. I want the whole salon experience of aromatherapy and relaxation, not the noisy whirl of a vacuum

Graduating to a More Challenging Playground

It all started with the junior play slide, a Craigslist find. My then 1-year-old twin boys had already been toddling for two months and I could see our future and it looked like this. Though they were still a little too young to be set loose at the playground, I thought I'd let them practice climbing and sliding in the comfort of our own carpeted living room. But that tiny 2 foot slide seemed to loom over my tiny tots like a giant tower. We hovered over our boys as they played on that slide, fearing the inevitable tumbles.

Around the time my boys turned two-and-a-half, they had long since learned how to slide down that first slide. In fact, they began using that slide for everything but sliding down properly; they climbed backwards up the slide, vied for the highest perch, jumped endlessly off the top and toppled the whole thing over so they could use it as a balance beam of sorts. That's when we we decided to move the slide into the garage for storage.

Ratatouille, Glitter Glue and the Booming Thing

A few Saturdays ago, I bought the G-rated Disney/Pixar film Ratatouille. I was in the checkout line at Target, next to the display of popular DVDs when I spied it. "Ratatouille" said the cover, a tiny Eiffel Tower gleaming in the background. "Buy me!" screamed the merchandise. My thoughts turned to Paris and I snatched up the DVD, tossing my impulse buy into my shopping cart while cursing my lack of will power. So here's the deal: I don't get out much and the thought of indulging in a little armchair travel with my children was heavily appealing.

Yes, it's pathetic that my trip to Paris would be by way of a cartoon rat with a bad accent but I was desperate. Besides this was no ordinary sewer rat, this was Remy, a rat of considerable culinary talent and he was French, oooh la la! I had not researched this film on-line, but I had checked with friends and they'd all said it had gone over well with their preschool age children. When I got home, I slid the Ratatouille DVD into the player and waited for my 3-year-old twin boys to wake up from their naps.

Hey New Nurse: Get Some Life Experience!

I miss my nurse practitioner! She was warm and earthy and had such wisdom. I trusted her completely. She was a part of an amazing team of staff at private practice of one amazing and much loved Silicon Valley OB/Gyn. I was there for my annual exam, expecting to see her. I heard the "Helloooo!" and the sprightly steps but when she pulled back the curtain, it was a new nurse and she was...young.

"How are things going?" asks the new nurse, smiling. We go through the usual litany of questions, finally arriving at the question of sex.

"Well," I say, "it's funny how life with kids can kind of zap away a lot of your energy. I'm always tired! Hey, can you test my iron levels"

She stops, leans in closer and tells me that it's very, VERY important to nurture a marriage. "People get busy, but we musn't neglect our marriage," she urges, her voice full of sympathy.

Um, my marriage is fine, thank you very much. But I'll step things up, if that's what you think I should do.

Get Off My Dot!

Over the past week, I've been working out at my backup gym. It's not my favorite gym, but I occasionally go there when I can't get to my usual gym. (Yes, I have two silicon valley gym memberships, down from three!) Last week, after dropping off my kids at preschool, I zoomed on over to my backup gym in hopes of getting in a little much needed T.A.G. (thighs, abs, gluts) workout. (A gym membership means nothing - alas, I am still flabby.)

After signing in for the class at the front desk, I'm good to go. After all, signing in means that there's a spot for me somewhere in the class. So, with twenty minutes to spare, I decide to head for the locker room and then, perhaps over to a corner to do some stretching. As I make my way to the locker room, I stumble on something. I look down and see that I have kicked over someone's water bottle. Then I notice all sorts of debris strewn about the floor. The water bottle, a crumpled white towel, People magazine (gimme that!), three more water bottles, a gym bag, keys and so on, like a battlefield of gym accessories. Oh my God - this is the line to the T.A.G. class!? These people have signed in early, thrown something down to "hold" their place, and then run off to burn calories on the stairmaster or something. Crazy! I abort my trip to the locker room and decide I'd better try and find the end of the line.

All You Need is a Lollipop...or Sometimes Not!

The wee driver of the shiny teal convertible turns to me and smiles as if to say, "This is the life, isn't it?" With one hand casually gripping the wheel and the other hand tasked with holding a grape lollipop at the ready, my three-year-old J is the picture of a carefree existence. I smile back, but he has already shifted his attention elsewhere. On a TV just in front of him, a friendly blue dog and his friendly pal Joe have just encountered a moon fairy. "It's Blue's Clue's, Mom! " chirps J, through sticky lips stained purple, making him look as if he really could be one of Blue's friends. Somewhere just outside his consciousness, a stranger is circling his head like a gnat, snipping away at his hair with scissors, but J hardly notices. J is having a blast.

Still Luggin Around My Stroller

"Those are some BIG babies!" comments a passerby, casting a curious eye at the big boys stuffed into my stroller. "Ohhhhh, I see you've brought your stroller, " observes a strollerless twin mom friend of mine, as if to say, "Ah ha - caught ya!" Enough already. Yes, I've brought along my stroller. Yes, it still sometimes carries my two 3-year-olds. Yes, my kids are kind of big for their age.

This history of how I used my stroller isn't an extraordinary one. I did what you all did: stashed it full of diapers and wipes, cheerios and sippy cups, toys and the kitchen sink. I ventured out solo, just me and my boys. Having a stroller liberated me, freed me up to explore exotic places like Target and our neighborhood Starbucks. Have stroller, will travel (but not far)!

Twin Mommies at the Spa...

Some of the Silicon Valley Moms Bloggers are also twins moms. A few even belong to the same twins club called Gemini Crickets (Linda, Akemi and Linsey).  Being a twins mom is a fun and challenging enterprise, and every now and then, we get treated to a little pampering.

Sunday, we were invited, along with the other Silicon Valley Moms, to the Four Seasons Hotel in Palo Alto by Graco, who showed us their new product, the SweetPeace "soothing center". While our husbands and babysitters (Linda's husband was traveling on business) handled the kids, we chatted poolside with our fellow bloggers (there were 5 of us there who have twins - pictured in the photo are, from bottom left, Linda, Linsey, Ana, Akemi and Beth - Alix, we missed you!), enjoyed hand massages, drank wine and ate yummy sushi appetizers (this party was NOT for expectant mothers, apparently).  And we got an education on soothing from Graco.

The sweetpeace is really