Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Ha. Ha ha. Hahahahahahahahaaaaaa!

A trip all by myself.

Well, no, not exactly. My cousin, L, will be there, too. But I'm going away. Without M and A and the dog. So it will count as "by myself" in some key ways. I will pack for only myself and plan to buy a few things when on travel. I might even just open a bag 30 minutes before I leave for the airport and throw in the first 20 things that come to mind. I'm sure my phone and some underpants will make the list. And a pair of shoes or boots. And, hell, I'll be wearing clothes at the time, and if I really want, I can wear them for the entire length of the trip. All 4 days.

Don't worry, L, I'm just kidding. At the very least, I'll shower each day and hang my clothes to air out overnight.

No packing diapers, or wipes. Or bottles. Or 6 pacifiers. Or dog treats, or extra anything, really. I'm giddy. I'm planning to sleep...WHENEVER I'M TIRED. Might even go wild and eat....when I'm hungry. I bet you I'll even get to finish what is on my plate without small beings trying to steal my food (I'm talking to you, A and pupper). I bet you L won't look at me, then at my plate, back at me, stretch out her hand and say "egg!"

I can't actually believe it is happening. The thought of being on my own for 4 days is amazing. What did I do before I had a kid? How did I actually fill the time? I wonder if I'll run out of ideas of what to do.

Doubt it.

For those of you channeling my subconscious which is a bit worried at how happy I seem to be at the thought of leaving my family, especially my baby girl, for a few days, take heart. I've realized I'm not yet ready for her to be without both parents. But since M will be here, as will her daycare, and her beloved babysitter, I plan to travel guilt-free on this one.

Better go charge up my Kindle. I've got some reading to catch up on.

Friday, August 26, 2011

Science (teaching) Friday

Its not like we even get these NPR programs here at the correct time of week or day - Science Friday is being broadcast when it is already Friday night here. But I've been working on a physics lab TA training seminar this week, and I found an article I really like. It is a collaboration between chemistry and English professors at Seattle University (Alaimo et. al, 2009), and the topic is helping college students learn to write like scientists. Basically, they argue that writing like a scientist (and I'd add speaking like one) goes hand in hand with thinking like a scientist. The motivation for the paper is the difficulty the chemists saw their students having writing up a professional looking senior thesis in chemistry, even thought these students had done many lab courses and had to write up reports for them.

If you've taken a science lab class, chances are you know that lab reports are a weird little genre unto themselves, having little or nothing to do with actual scientific writing of the kind that goes into journal articles. The authors make a great point about this that is obvious once they've stated it - students who learn to write lab reports are learning to write for a totally different purpose than what a research article has. The audience is the TA who will grade the work, the data and experiments are preselected, there is almost no gathering of multiple instances of the same data, and, let's be honest, almost all unexpected results are chalked up to "human error" and not really explained by the students. So why should we be surprised that students who know how to write a lab report have no idea how to write like scientists?

The authors discuss how they redesigned a yearlong chemistry lab course to mirror actual science data acquisition, analysis, and writeup. And they start with the easiest (e.g. lowest Bloom's taxonomy level) cognitive tasks like writing up the data results and analysis, followed by the harder (higher level) cognitive tasks like the discussion and introduction. They spend time on issues of audience (a person with similar or slightly less chemistry knowledge than you, the student), and purpose of these different sections.

Sounds like a great idea to me.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

In control

I'm a control lover. I don't know that I'd go as far as calling myself a control freak (although M might, at times), but I like to plan. Especially for trips. I like the feeling that if I just pack the right things, everything will go well. I am the person you want to have on your Eurail trip, or vacation in Costa Rica or Ghana. I'm the one who brings tiny mosquito nets, and Cipro (for, um, traveller's, um, food related illnesses), and Ibuprofen, and sunburn cream, and sea sickness pills, and extra ziploc baggies for stuff, and a lock for your huge ass backpack. And cards, and a small pair of binoculars, and a camera with a waterproof case for underwater photos, and extra batteries.

And, you get it.

With the arrival of baby A, and her who-knows-what-it-was sleeping problems almost 2 years ago, I turned these skills onto managing her environment. It didn't work, but it gave me something to obsess about, and make myself calmer.

She has now had 3 chest infections in the last few months, complete with horribly constricted airways that make her wheeze and breathe hard. And after bout number 3, I sit here at the computer, with baby Singulair in an unopened box. The pediatrician has suggested it, and said emphatically how it has no side-effects. And I chose it instead of an inhaler with spacer that she'd have to learn to take 5 deep breaths from. Last night, before opening the box, I went....yes, online.

I know. Dumb. But it is one of those basic-good-parenting things, where at least I want to see what side effects are written on the drug's website for this stuff she is supposed to take all winter long once a day. And even the pharmacist said only that it might make her a bit drowsy (so I was thinking, "Score!"). Let's just let the website speak for itself:

"SINGULAIR may cause serious side effects. Behavior and mood-related changes have been reported: agitation including aggressive behavior or hostility, bad or vivid dreams, depression, disorientation (confusion), feeling anxious, hallucinations (seeing or hearing things that are not really there), irritability, restlessness, sleepwalking, suicidal thoughts and actions (including suicide), tremor, and trouble sleeping. Tell your healthcare provider right away if you have, or your child has, any of these symptoms while taking SINGULAIR."

You have got to be kidding me! Aggression and hostility and sleepwalking?! I mean, ok, now I've also gone to the forums and heard from parents whose kids have night terrors from the stuff. But how am I supposed to know if they are from her medication or would have happened anyway? Depression? Ai, ai, ai.

The package sits, still unopened, on my desk. Between this keyboard and the screen. And I'm thinking that the inhaler isn't sounding so bad anymore. I think that for a kid who is already excitable, and who is going through the tantrum stage, while we are also trying to adjust, and already screams in the middle of the night, and who I've suspected might sleepwalk someday based on how she wakes from sleep,....this medication will have to be the only option for me to start her on it.

So this is one of those cases in which I can control. But if I couldn't, as I've realized will be the case with any future pregnancies and birth defects, or behavior disorders (let's just say that the NYTimes Motherlode blog has been going all out on posts about all sorts of scary things), those are the situations I start to get nervous. Maybe, if we decide to have another child, we should adopt. How horrible a thought is that, to adopt to avoid birth defects. What if we have a kid who says he/she wants to kill us, at age 5? There was a post on Motherlode about this, too. Granted, the follow-up from the mother calmed me down.

Even though my brain can imagine a kid with all the possible problems all at once, nature probably cannot, and it is only in my upper-middle-class existence that I even have the luxury of pretending that any of life is predictable. That serious illness won't strike, since we can afford medication when A's breathing gets hard or my depression sets in. That it is worth planning for 10 years from now since we can assume we will all be around. That life can't suddenly get turned upside down. I forget sometimes that it already has, two years ago, and that it sucked, it was hard, I hated being in the middle of all of it, but, that in the end, we all survived.

Time to get some predictable work done, in my predictable Thursday, with my predictably sleepy dog.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Pish time on the iPone

A likes my iPhone. Actually, she calls it my "ipone," on which her favorite toddler game right now is Fish School (which she calls "pish!"). We used it in Mallorca and then Milan in the car to help get over tired, cranky times. And on the trams or buses here, to help get over tired, cranky time. Or at a restaurant, to keep her at the table for more than 2 minutes when shes...you guessed it, tired, bored or cranky. That is correct, I use an iPhone as a babysitter for 5, or even 10, minutes!

But as tired and cranky time seems to be getting longer, and more enthusiastically cranky (ok, let's just say tantrum), I went back into child raising literature and found an idea that is working really nicely. In the book, the example was actually about an 8 year old girl and computer time, but it works with our little one, too. The concept that lack of structure is frustrating translates to A asking for "pish" almost anytime she realizes she is bored, and my having to decided on an instance-by-instance basis whether I say yes or no. If I say no, she protests. A lot. Loudly. And I was really sick of having to decide based on some unknown rules, or make some up, constantly. Anyway, the book suggests to schedule in an activity like this, and for us it has coincided very nicely with helping A get ready to leave the house in the mornings. We are trying to give her more structure to help ease tantrums, and now, 5 minutes before Mama or Papa are leaving to take her to school, she gets to play on the iPhone. She has to have her shoes and sweater on, or at least allow them to be put on, and be in her stroller. And after the first 2 days of toddler protest with the taking the iPhone away when the stroller is leaving the apartment with said parent, today she was fine with it. Now she knows there is a time for "pish" and we get a more cooperative little person, ready to leave for school.

All around win.

By the way, the app is called Fish School, from a company called DuckDuckMoose, and so far I love all their apps. Especially the music and sounds - I have yet to want to throw the phone across any large distance after hearing the same song 50 times. Well done, DuckDuckMoose.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Autumn is on its way


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This is a strange concept for me, that it could start to get cold in late August. That decade, plus, in Tucson completely reset my internal sense of seasons. It should be over 100 F from May through October, as far as my body is concerned.

Mix this with a healthy dose of already being acclimated to cool-ish summer temperatures in a country where air conditioning in residences is rare, and I can't wait for this week's 90 F and sunny to end at the same time as I am horrified by the forecast for rain and 65 F by weekend. I think I may only like 73.5 F and partly cloudy for weeks on end right now.

Anyway, the windows and curtains and metal shutters are all closed throughout the apartment since 10:30am this morning, in hopes that the heat won't make it in the rooms very far by the time we get home from the river, and then they'll open briefly until dusk, close again for mosquito feeding hour, which is also known as "Let's go eat M to a pulp" and the night.

A's water toys are packed, as are her swim diapers, and some snacks, for our almost daily trip to the river. The water is a glorious 77 F, and clear greenish-blue. The current isn't too fast, but it makes you feel like you're swimming in something thicker than water, half-set jello according to my friend I. There are shade trees and toddlers and everything you need to spend 4-5 hours escaping the heat.

I've stopped taking many photos recently, somehow there is just too much life to live and not enough time to even take out the iPhone, so let me finish with a few scenes from our trip a few weeks ago to Milan. Fish, street art (commissioned and not), and design were big themes on this trip.







We stayed in yet another AirBnb great find, an apartment where the owners had twins, so we had everything we needed for the stay - didn't even bring a stroller. Which is the height of travel-with-toddler ease, let me tell you. And the apartment was near the biggest green space in the city, with four off-leash dog parks for the dog (who came with), something she hasn't seen since we moved to Zurich. They don't do dog parks here. We followed most of the latest NYTimes "36 Hours in Milan" guide, which provided equal parts great food and gelato, and design museums and other such destinations. All who went had a great time. Ok, except maybe the rental car that got us there and back and got hit in the lot it sat in the whole rest of the time. In true name-your-favorite-stereotype fashion, the lot attendant had no idea how that could have happened, even though we had left it parked for him in the middle of the crowded lot and it was parked in a space when we picked it up.













Thursday, August 11, 2011

I'm not 5 minutes late

Turns out, I was 6 days 23 hours and 55 minutes early for the meeting. And had just made the 30 minutes trip into town. Well, ok, the 35 minutes trip, which I keep rounding off to 30 minutes, which is why I keep being late.

Late, then early, then without my wallet which means I couldn't fit in some 2nd hand baby clothes shopping of grocery store stop to try and salvage my trip. Because, of course, time cannot be wasted. Which is the true point of an iPhone. You can be productive, or at least active (I'm rarely that productive unless I'm using the Hipstamatic app) at all times. If you have your phone with you, and today I did have at least that.

So let's just ay that the pupper got to practice relaxing in her crate for an hour, I got to window shop and put some shoes and pants on hold for A, and then I scanned the comments on a friend's Facebook request for books to read. Just so happens, I also had my Kindle with me, so I used some 5 minutes downloading samples of books that people recommended to her.

Whew. Thank goodness I had all my technology with me, or I might have been a rotting, smelly, worthless drain on all that is important about humanity.

Now I'm home, I've fielded a work call, and I've taken off my boots and socks to let my toes drink in the gloriously warm, sunny day that our balcony finally has access to. Our sun shade was stuck in the open position for the last 2 months, and when the motor was finally replaced last week, you could almost hear the plants screaming "Gah!! What IS that?! I thought we lived in Seatlle?!" The zucchini plant seemed to shudder and realize that it might just have to overproduce some squash for us after all.

Whiny voices are on my mind this morning. A is a bit sick, which meant she was restless last night and that M and I got less sleep than we could have used. And this morning I, being the master of appropriate timing, thought I should stop responding to her whiny reactions. While she's sick. M gently mentioned it might not be the best time. I gently, inwardly, agreed and proceeded to keep asking A what she wanted, to tell me in words. Time to go digging in the child rearing books again for some suggestions on how to do this consistently and nicely. I have to say, that after letting A cry a bit when I didn't try guessing what blue thing (that was not in sight) she wanted, holding her, telling her I'd like to know what she wanted, letting her have some space, not letting her hit me, though,....she finally piped up in her tiny voice...."nuggi." Pacifier.

I jumped to my feet, A in arms, smiling, and said "You bet! Let's go find it. I'd love to find it. I really just wanted to know what you wanted!" and we went in search. So, she can do it. And when I have patience, I can encourage her to do it. And it may take 5 minutes of tantrum, but if it leads to a verbal request, I am so there for her.

Now if I can just get her to wear a bib and sit a bit longer at the table......

Friday, August 5, 2011

Other people's sad

I'm still thinking about the encounter with the neighbor moving out. It hits a particular part of my personality, the one where I think (1) I should somehow share in another person's sadness, (2) that I can handle it better than they can and so (3) by sharing it I can take some of it away. Okay, now that I've written that poorly worded sentence, there is a sense in which I think it is true. That sharing sadness helps others. But my brain takes is a little (too) farther, in thinking I can take on the person's sadness for them.

I've felt this about a lot of adults in my life, especially when I was younger - that I could bear their sadness more easily than they could. Really? Seriously? That's one I need to practice not believing. As if my own life doesn't have its own sadnesses for me to deal with. I somehow forget all that I've been through with A and living in a new place and M and the dog and my depression, and think that somehow I should have had time and energy for this other person, while I was busy trying to keep myself above water. Or for this other person's sad. To take it on on top of my own.

And it leads to a nasty side-effect, that I am uncomfortable sitting with someone, in silence, and just being there, letting them have their sadness. Or, at least, I'm not good at doing that. And in the end, that is what I regret most about Tuesday morning with the neighbor. I quickly jumped in when she said she was going to a home, that it might be easier, to have all that help. And she agreed. Because, as her daughters told me later, she's a brave woman. But I wish what I had been able to do for her, and which I was able to do with her daughters later, was to ask how she felt about the move. And to let her tell me.

Because not broaching a topic, that both people in a conversation kind of know the answer to, doesn't make it disappear, or become a non-issue. It is still there. That sadness, the nervousness about a new place after living here 30 years (also learned from her daughters). All the ways I might have actually made the connection I was so regretting having missed with her, had I just listened, and asked, and not pretended that all was okay so we could smile together.

I can't take on another person's sadness. But I can just sit and listen and let them be sad.

(Note: I realize this neighbor might not have been all that sad, but I've mixed together two topics here - my lost opportunity to connect with her and my tendency to want to take on other people's sadness).

I do, however, need to learn more about how to do that last part with boundaries. Because part of the difficulty I have is that I drown in other people's sadness. It overtakes me, again, maybe because I think (mistakenly) that if I can just feel sad enough for them, they won't have to? I'm not sure, but it makes me very cautious about interactions with people who are sad. That said, not everyone, but some people, who have a lot of sad, constantly, in their lives. Or who feel and project a lot of it. It overwhelms me to the point I feel like I can't breathe. And that just doesn't work, now does it?

Lots and lots of rich, lush, glorious photos...and I have no idea how to make paragraphs that match photos!

Time for some photos. Of Mallorca, which, outside the city of Palma, and near the lovely town of Pollenca, was really relaxing and family friendly. We rented a house, for me, A, her aunt L, and her Bobute (my mom). We rented a car. There was a pool, visiting cats, nearby miniature horses to visit every day, country quiet and stars at night, and a 10 min ride to the town.
M had a conference in the US, so it was three women vs. one very excited and attracted to water Beibis (that's A). It was an even match. First order of business on the trip was to change into a newly arrived purple pajama and check about size restrictions for overhead luggage. Luckily, I think A forgot about the overhead thing once we'd boarded the plane so I didn't have to forbid her from riding in the bin.

A week with very few toys, and no playgrounds. And it went...just fine.
Each morning, no matter if she got to bed at 8:30pm or 11pm, A woke up at 7:30am. Ungh. We'd climb out of our beds, wander into the kitchen, open all the windows, put on some coffee, grab a yogurt from the fridge and head into the backyard. The baby chair wasn't all that stable against a pushy, flicky leg toddler, but we had some great conversations about what exactly was the table (where feet are not allowed) and what was the chair (where, on the usual parental, last-second decision in favor of peace and a chance in hell of actually making some coffee, I decided was ok).


Seafood was on many menus. It was all over this restaurant's menu, in fact. Monkfish, lobster, cuttlefish (sorry smart animal I didn't really like the taste of!), fish, more fish, clams, and fish.



The streets of many towns in the Northwest part of the island were preparing for a festival, and thin strips of flags fluttered above many of them.
There was a jacuzzi with the pool. Not a hot tub, really, since the water wasn't heated. But a great place, 5 feet above the pool level, to try escaping from.
We spent the whole day at this cove. With a rented beach umbrella space and chairs, snorkelling, swimming, eating, napping, and sifting through all sorts of shells, sea glass and rocks.

Ah, the pool.
Someone had a great time running around and around and around the post box near the placa where we were having dinner. Enclosed public spaces, where parents can sit and eat, and kids can run around, were one of the things that made this trip so toddler friendly.

Aunt L and A skip down the streets of Alcudia, new bags in hand. Or, arm.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

The neighbor I wish I'd gotten to know

I was lying down for a 45 min nap, just after M and A had gone off to school, and the bell rang. Crap. Was the cleaning lady here super early? Dog walker? No, he doesn't have the house key and the ring was from our apartment door. There was our neighbor, a sweet woman of about 85 or 90, who lost her husband some 5 months ago, saying "Goodbye" and that she is moving to an assisted living facility, where she won't have to cook and clean by herself anymore. She speaks good English, she gave us a pajama present when A was born, she broke her hip and has been walking more and better every day with physical therapists. I think she and her husband lived in Canada and in Singapore for some time. I have always been meaning to invite her for a tea or coffee, to hear her stories, to ask about her life. And then it always seems I'm rushing, to get some work or errands in, and if A is around, she is sick. And I've been scared to pass that on to a woman who doesn't need a cold or chest infection, and for sure not the flu's we've had.

But I feel sad. Like I let her down. There goes my feeling that I am supposed to make others happier. I feel sad that we didn't have a coffee together once a week, just for a little chat. What could I have learned from her? What could I have given?

Sigh. No more napping. The weight of the missed opportunity, especially with a woman who reminds me of my late godmother, is too big. It is a rainy, warm day, and I guess I'll just be sad. And remind myself that I also romanticize other people's hardships. They must be sad, or needing my help, it must be tragic. But that isn't necessarily the case. She has children and grandchildren. She had visitors. I wouldn't have filled in for a lost husband or made her younger.

I just wish it was a bit easier to know the neighbors here. And I'm too good at going along with the custom of not interacting much. This is a case where I wish my American-ness had come forward a bit more.

Hmm.