I guess this makes me a Yuppie

Not far from our apartment is a shopping center with Crate & Barrel, Pottery Barn, Williams Sonoma, Whole Foods, and a bunch of other stores I have never shopped at either. When we drive past there on our way home from church, there is always traffic backed up for blocks from so many Priuses trying to park in the 25-car-capacity Whole Foods parking lot. So while Kevin ootches through traffic, I get to look out the window at the young urban professionals, their 2.3 children, and their strollers of choice.

Every time, I am happy to see at least 3 of these bad boys:

No, I haven't seen Madonna, Gwyneth Paltrow, or even Brooke Shields. But every time we go out, it's the Phil & Teds Sport stroller with double kit attachment! Yay!!!

Since I'm moving to China and having a second child over there, I've been thinking about the fact that the market for double strollers in a country with a 1-child policy might be tiny. Or nonexistent. And the possibility of finding one used would be less than zero.

So I've been scouring craigslist (in 4 states) for the last several weeks to find one in a reasonable price range. It's easy to buy one for over $300, but that's not what Chelsea-the-tightwad is willing to pay.

I eventually found one for $225, and since I was in New Mexico, I had Kevin go buy it for me, and he talked the lady down to $180! Great practice for shopping over in China!

It's still a pricey stroller, but I am so excited to have it! I may buy nothing again, ever.

In the space of a single jogging stroller, here, my friends, is a double stroller just perfect for navigating China's small, bumpy sidewalks.

This will be just perfect for Penny and her baby sister, Apple.

Nice to come home

In high school English, our teacher reminded us that "nice" is a vanilla-pudding word. Sure, vanilla pudding tastes good, but if it's the best dessert you've ever eaten, you need to get out more!
So when I say it's nice to come home, it's just that: nice.
I'm very happy to come back to Kevin. Penny has more toys to choose from, and that's great. I can put my clothes back into their drawers. Wahoo. But I guess while we're just temporarily living in the Oakwood with only some of our belongings and getting ready to leave in a couple months, it just doesn't feel much like coming home.

I had an awesome 2-week trip through New Mexico, Colorado, Utah, and Washington visiting as many family members and friends as I could fit in. The big reason I went was that Alex, my brother, was coming home from his mission in Frankfurt, Germany, my sister Sarah had a baby I wanted to meet, and then we hadn't been able to spend Christmas with Kevin's family but didn't want to leave the country without seeing them again. Plus I got to see just about everyone else (seemed like) along the way!

More later.

Why I'm not teaching my daughter to share

I know no one agrees with me, but I just want to explain why I'm right. (And you're wrong, by the way.)

:)

In kindergarten, kids share. This is good.

When 18-month-olds get together to play, they don't. And that's okay.

When the toddlers inevitably start grabbing the same toy and frustratedly yanking it from the other's hands, moms generally holler for their kids to "share." It doesn't happen.

One kid gives a final yank and then takes off with the coveted toy. The other one cries. Sometimes they both cry. Then the mom comes and takes the toy away from one or both of the kids, chastising her own child for not sharing.

But what does she even mean by "share"?

"Share" can mean one of several things:

-Surrender your toy to the other kid or mom will come take it from both of you. (This happens. But I don't refer to it as "sharing.")

-You two play with the same toy together at the same time. (Ideal. However, not developmentally possible at this point. Toddlers play parallel to each other, not with each other.)

-Let the other kid play with the toy, and then take your turn next. (This will come at some point-- just as soon as I can explain to Penny what "in a minute" means. I have high hopes for this one.)

-Let the other kid have that toy, and you go find something different to play with. (This one works when Penny has just eaten and napped.)

-Go find the other kid a different toy to play with so you can keep playing with the same toy. (By far our most successful option.)

I have no doubt that Penny can learn these different skills. We're working especially on the last two, and they serve us well. I'm looking forward to when she can understand about taking turns. And at some point she will learn to be more interactive and empathetic and realize that playing WITH other kids actually makes it more fun!

But if I tell her from across the room, "Share!" what am I really asking her to do?

"Here, Penny. Assess the situation and decide which of these options would be the best choice. Then if that doesn't work, please try another option. Do what it takes to make both you and the other child keep from crying. Thank you!"

Um.... She's savvy, but not THAT savvy.

I'm not going to ask her to share.

By the time she's in kindergarten, I have no doubt that she will be an expert on sharing. But for now, she's a toddler, and I am just going to start with step one. When Penny gets grabby and starts comandeering toys, I tell her to find a different toy or find one for the other kid. I'm finding it's a concept that she can master.

We're not there yet, but I do find that it yields better results than hollering, "Share!"

Dinner parties

I have a cool calling at church. It's my job to arrange for people to get together and have dinner parties with each other every month. Yeah! Finally, my bossiness is put to good use!

I send around sign-up sheets and otherwise have people tell me they want to be included. They let me know if they want to host, and if they do, they then provide the main dish and tell the people they're hosting what to bring.

After the first month, I found that it helps to ask how many people they want to host. I've lived in Virginia for a month, and the names are just names on a page. They tell me how many people are in their families, but beyond that, I don't know anything about them. Last month I wound up sending maybe 6 people over to someone's house, and when I talked to the host, they had a great attitude about squeezing that many people into their studio apartment. So now I ask how many people they want to have over.

I'm learning a lot as I go.

I also found that not everyone who signs up to host can actually follow through. Something always comes up for someone, and then I have to juggle people around to fit them in. I realized after my first month that instead of assigning myself a group to host, I should leave my house open as the back-up for when another host has to bail.

That was my intention, at least, except that this month I'm out of town. Honestly, it's almost as easy to plan these parties from New Mexico as it is from Virginia, but I don't exactly have my house open as a back-up. I also found that two people who signed up have managed to essentially disappear off the face of the earth. They haven't answered my emails or phone calls at all, even though they said they'd like to host. If I were in Virginia, I could try to track them down at church, but that's kind of hard from two-thousand miles away. So I think I'm just going to let a couple people fall of the face of the earth and make amends later.

Anyway. I'm writing about this not because it's the most interesting thing I've done recently, but mostly because I just finished planning for this month, and I'm happy to be through.

Yay! Let the parties begin!

I never have any questions when I go to the doctor. However, when I'm pregnant and feel weird, I do mention it to the doctor. Last time around, I had some horrible back pain every time I moved for 3 weeks. It stopped the day before I went to my appointment, but I still mentioned it to the doctor. He gave me a look and said, "Well yeah, you're pregnant."

This week I have been feeling pretty bad. I feel both hungry and nauseated at all times-- sometimes a little more of one or the other-- and it only started this week. I mentioned it to the doctor and explained exactly how I was feeling. He told me about how my innards and guts [my words] are being squished and moved around, and these changes cause acid reflux and all sorts of other discomforts.

At the end, he smiled kindly and said, "Don't worry, it will only get worse."
Joy.

Balletercize

For Kevin's Christmas present, I signed him up for a karate class. While I was at it, I gave myself a Christmas present of a ballet class. I've taken ballet classes on and off since I was tiny, and although I'm not terribly flexible or waifish, I love a good ballet class. It's the best and most enjoyable workout for my whole body.

I wasn't sure what to expect from a community ballet class. I feared a class of skinny 17-year-olds effortlessly holding their legs to their ears and leaping with boundless energy. As a 4-month-pregnant 28-year-old mom, I knew I wouldn't make it in a class like that. Also, I don't have any ballet clothes my current size. (Not sure if they make them.) But I put on my brave face, donned my stretchy pants and ballet slippers, and headed to class.

I talked to a few of my classmates before class started, and I was happy to find that they were also moms and about my age. They were also wearing stretchy pants and T-shirts-- not a single leotard to be seen. Ahhhh, this is my kind of class.

At about one minute to the hour, our teacher comes blazing into the classroom, announcing that this is as early as she'll ever be there after teaching a class across town. Her hair is all tied up at the top of her head with big, floppy bows exaggerating the effect. She wears some strange, clunky shoes that look like Air Jordans who just lost a knife fight. And she has hand-written motivational sayings all over her shirts. I'm not sure what to think of this lady.

The ballet class progresses like none I've ever taken before. Usually (always) in a ballet class, the teacher shows you the exercise combination and shows you how it will go. Then she starts the music, you prepare with a simple port de bras, and then you do the routine while your teacher walks around and fixes your posture and stuff.

Not so in this class. Our teacher starts playing a mix tape of various movie soundtracks all spliced together (my favorite part was a four-line segment from Jesus Christ Superstar repeated about 14 times) and just counts it off: 4, 3, 2, 1, and go! Then we start plie-ing. Then the next song starts, and 4, 3, 2, 1, we start on tendus. Sometimes the music ends before we do, so we keep going while she goes and rewinds the tape.

While we're stretching or repeating a move, our teacher tells us about her favorite TV shows (The Tudors and some gladiator show-- maybe Spartacus?). When she hits on a point that she thinks is pretty funny, she pouts her lips, closes her eyes, raises her eyebrows, and looks really proud of herself. Interspersed among the TV updates, she tells us about bone density, the importance of CPR training, and other health-related topics. Over the next few weeks, she's going to give us her food lecture in the "long version."

I signed up for a ballet class just for the exercise, but I'm getting so much more than that! I'm not sure what I think of it all.

Bubblegum

Last week Penny and I went to a thrift shop and bought a bunch of great stuff. We got a stroller blanket for about $45 less than new. Penny got essentially an entire new wardrobe, and we even picked up some maternity clothes for me.

As I shopped, I would let her play on the aisle we were shopping on, where she would play in the clothes or pick up a toy to play with. At one point, she came running up to me, beaming, showing me her new treasure she'd picked up from the floor:

On an unrelated note, Penny has had a cold the last couple days, which she has graciously shared with me. We're enjoying our thrift shop bargains!