I left my garbage can at the curb a little longer than I should have after this week’s collection. When I picked it up a day late I found it half full of Barbies.

I have no idea who put them there, but I am sure that somewhere on this base there is a very sad little girl. A very sad little girl who was a pretty spoiled little girl, from what I can gather, because I had to haul about half of what was in our trash can out of the trash can so there would be room for our actual trash. In the third that I managed to take out of there before the smell of rotting remnants of food drove me gagging from dumpster diving, I grabbed twenty-eight Barbies, mostly naked. There were at least twice that amount left, but I gave up rescuing them because of the stench.

Jonas, of course, thought it was Christmas. He had just gotten out of his bath and while I had the can tipped on it’s side so I could reach stuff, he crawled in butt naked and started grabbing everything he saw. I let him have one Barbie scantily clad in roller blades on her feet and nothing else and sent him indoors. Since then he has pulled over the trash three times because he knows there are toys inside.

I have added the rescued dolls to my growing rummage sale pile, where they will be sold for a song, unless the sad little nudist girl whose parents tossed her Barbies comes to claim them.

I took some time to go peruse the offerings at our local bookstore today. As I walked past a young Asian man sitting in an overstuffed chair he caught my eye and smiled. I smiled back (because I’m a nice person) and watched his eyes light up and the wheels start turning. I was instant bait. This isn’t a situation I’ve been in in awhile, given the fact that I’ve been pregnant recently and I’m usually shopping with two little kids. I’m a reasonably attractive woman, but there is no turn off like a toddler and a bulging belly.

I hurried into a remote corner of the children’s section to get away. While checking out the bargain books I came to the sudden realization that he was about three feet away and blocking the exit. He opened his mouth to speak, and his phone rang, giving me opportunity to flee, once again.

I headed over to the journals and scrapbooking paraphernalia and hid myself behind the greeting cards. This was my brief moment of alone time and I didn’t want it ruined by some hopeful dude out looking for Miss Right. After a safe amount of time had passed, I walked over to the section of summer reading I was originally looking at. Within seconds he was back like a hungry puppy after a steak. I tried to ignore him, but he was trying very hard to catch my eye so he could say something. At that point I resorted to the Left Hand Dance. Its’ the one where you adjust your hair with the left hand, caress the cheap summer romance novels with your left hand, even pick your nose with your left hand just to wave the glittering rock on your ring finger in the guy’s face, praying he’ll see you’re taken and move on.

After doing this through two tables of books he finally spoke, “How are you doing?” I had to try not to laugh. The guy had been stalking me for twenty minutes and in all that time the best opening line he could come up with was “How are you doing?” This is not a productive opener. This leaves your prey the chance to respond with the classic shut-down “Fine.” Which I did. Something better would be, “Oh, do you like origami? Do you teach/have a preschooler? Is that why you’re looking at preschool readiness and origami design books?” I mean, really, pick something to say with substance, something that is going to require more than a monosyllable reply. Find a common interest. I’m in a bookstore, for heaven’s sake- the place is full of topics to choose from and the one in my hand is your best bet. But, no. How are you doing. Please.

He then asked me if I was looking for anything in particular (Umm, do you work here? Are you trying to sound like a salesclerk?) I told him I was just browsing and then quickly browsed away. He looked like he was going to follow so I gave up and walked to my car checking over my shoulder all the way home.

I used to have stuff like this happen to me a lot. When I was single, it wasn’t that big of a deal, but when it happens after you get married it just feels weird. I’m flattered, but seriously, leave me the heck a lone and take a hint mm-kay?

One summer when Chris and I were newlyweds we worked from eight to five for the City of Santa Clara, then we would drive halfway home to San Mateo where Chris worked at a store in the mall to earn a little more money for when we went back to college. I didn’t have a second job, or a ride home, so I usually spent three hours wandering the mall or reading in the bookstore across the street. I got hit on A LOT. And it got old explaining that, yes, the ring on my finger does actually mean I’m married, and no, I’m not kidding. It got to be where I couldn’t read without some guy interrupting me looking to hook up. Many of these guys were normal and once I said , “Thanks, but I’m married,” they would go their way without event. But of course you have to have the losers who buy me a drink even after I tell them I’m married, or the pathetic excuse for a guy who upon hearing that I was married asked, “Are you happily married?” My instant thought was, “even if I weren’t I wouldn’t crawl in the sack with you, you bastard.” Fortunately, the withering stare of shock and disgust I effortlessly shot him was enough to make him just get up and walk away.

At this point, I knew I had to do something to make myself completely unattractive to the opposite sex. So I began each visit to the bookstore with a quick trip to the pregnancy section. I’d pick up What to Expect When You’re Expecting and a copy of Fit Pregnancy then hide whatever I was really reading inside one of those. It had a ninety percent success rate in getting single guys to leave me alone. Once I saw a young man check me out from across the reading section. He started to walk my way, so I raised what I was reading to cover half of my face, knowing that there was no way he could miss the word PREGNANCY screaming in his direction from the cover of the magazine. He took three steps, read the title of what I was reading, stopped dead in his tracks and walked the opposite direction. Now that is what I call effective.

To the guys out there who have to put up with this stuff, I’m sorry. But, please, save yourself some time and check the ring finger. You never know. And if she is married, don’t keep hitting on her. That only proves you’re scum.

I was told recently that in having my primary focus on my children I was doing feminism a disservice. I think that statement was made in ignorance. I don’t believe that the person who said it to me was a true feminist. I believe that she was more focused on defending her own choices, and less interested in what was truly good for the women of our world.

Feminism, at its most simple point, is meant to empower and liberate a woman so that she has the power to chose what she wants to do with her life. To say that a woman ought not to focus on motherhood because she should be in the work place taking advantage of the rights gained for women there doesn’t do much to liberate a woman. It simply forces her to fit a new societal mold. If a woman feels most fulfilled in the workplace, then I believe she ought to be there and have access to the same privileges and rights that any man has access to. But if a woman feels that her life would be more fulfilled as a mother or wife, then I think she should have the right to choose that course. After all, isn’t motherhood one of the most feminine gifts of life? No man can be a mother.

I am saddened that in the pursuit of equal treatment so many women have to feel badly for choosing a more traditional role. Just because a woman is capable of being Rosie the Riveter doesn’t mean she should have to, or want to. Women do each other a huge disservice when they demean one another’s choices and force each other into roles that they do not wish to play.

In my life, I have met more opposition from women against the choice to focus on motherhood than I have from men. I have found most men to be supportive of a woman’s choice stay in the home or enter the workplace, especially in a marital relationship where the decision of who will work inside and outside of the home becomes a family issue. It is disgusting that there are women who choose to tear down other women for their choices to remain in the home or enter the workplace. Feminism has become a corrupt means to further whatever position a woman takes in her own life, and is usually to the detriment of her fellow woman. That is not what feminism ought to be. That is selfishness. There is nothing empowering in selfishness.

Let it be known that I am much more articulate in print than I am in person. Especially when I am upset. I am much like Pacha’s wife Chicha in The Emperor’s New Groove. When she gets mad she snorts and fumes and yells a few incomplete thoughts then finally decides to go clean something to burn off the steam. You can tell she’s mad, but as far as effective communicating goes. . . well, not so much.

We have been trying, quite unsuccessfully, to access the resources available on base and in our community for exceptional children. We’ve been trying for almost a year (when I say we I mean I). I have made countless phone calls and each time I have been lucky enough to make human contact I have been sent to someone else. I am quite sure that two thirds of the people I have spoken with (or listened to their charming, “I’m so busy that I don’t feel like doing my job and helping you so suck it” phone messages) could be sacked and replaced with a flow chart of who to call next and they would never be missed.

I am to the point now where I am automatically mad at anyone who I do manage to contact because I am sure they are just going to pass me on to the next guy or not return my phone calls. Like a jilted lover, I scorn before I have the chance to get hurt again. It’s not productive.

In a fit of anger about two weeks ago I told Chris it was his turn to deal with the bureaucracy because no one ever listens to me because I lack the uniform that makes me considered Someone To Be Feared And Obeyed. Seeing that I meant it, he got on the job.

Yesterday he had a meeting with his commander and first shirt to discuss how some stuff was going. Our biggest goal right now is to get moved into a house with a fenced in back yard because then when Jonas escapes the house he would still be enclosed in a safe place instead of running into the street after crows.

The commander said that the Family Support Center people had been a little put out when I declined some of the help they offered me. Since I have been nursing a year’s worth of anger and frustration I sat down to write a letter to explain what was going on and what we needed. I tried very, very hard not to just write “EVERYONE I’VE TALKED TO HAS BEEN COMPLETELY USELESS” twelve million times. I tried very hard to write a letter that effectively communicated our family’s needs. When I asked Chris what he thought he said that it was mostly good, but I was a bit argumentative at points. I had my mother read it and she thought I expressed myself well without being mean or ridiculous. So I had Chris take it to his first shirt.

Ten minutes after Chris walked out of the door the first shirt and the commander had me on speaker phone and were expressing that they were here to help, they saw how frustrated I have been and that they were going to cut through the red tape and knock down the doors to get my son the house he needs. (Really, truly, I’m not kidding here). I admit I was a bit shocked. Considering that everyone else I have spoken with has sworn to call me back and then forgotten, it’s understandable. They then told me to make a list of the other areas we were hoping to help Jonas in and they would get the ball rolling there too. I think my brain shut off at the sound of people who were actually going to help me. . .I’m not sure what I said after that I was so surprised.

At any rate, we are getting help. People with actual power are going to make stuff happen that we really can’t make happen without them. I’m grateful. Now I can’t wait to see what happens.

I have reached parenting nirvana. Jonas is, for the most part, finished potty learning. It was a long, frustrating road and many times I thought I was going to be changing his poopy diapers well into grade school. For a child who started out so resistant to the idea, the end actually came about quite easily. Potty learning, for Jonas, all relied on one simple principle: Everyone has a price, and once you learn it, they can be bought. Yes, Internet, I bribed him. And it worked.

About two months ago we were locked in a power struggle over poop. I wanted it in the porcelain bowl, he wanted it in his diaper. He refused to even admit that he was having a bowel movement, even when he was obviously straining and making what we call, “The Poop Face”. Each time I would catch him making The Poop Face, I’d haul his butt to the toilet and make him finish there, explaining that poop goes in the toilet. Each time, he would kick and yell and be quite unpleasant about the whole business.

One day we went to the mall where Jonas saw the Disney Store. He wanted everything and I said no in the interest of financial preservation. Upon arriving home and fighting the potty battle, I realized that I had gained a bargaining chip. I told Jonas very clearly and many times that if he pooped in the potty we would run to the Disney Store and he could pick out a toy. After about two days of this he was standing in the dining room when he suddenly yelled, “Pooooot!” and ran for the toilet, where he did, indeed, deposit poot. I immediately threw the kids in the car and went to the store where Jonas got a toy and some new big boy Incredibles underwear.

It was a breakthrough. I knew he was capable of getting himself to the potty, and that he understood a bribe. Within a few weeks I was finished dealing with poop. He reached the point where it felt gross to him to go in his diaper, and now tells his baby sister, “Don’t poot!” every time I change her diaper.

Peeing proved to be a bigger challenge. That, it seemed, could happen anywhere and he just didn’t care. We kept putting him on the toilet and he would usually go, but there was never any drive to get himself there. We were finding puddles everywhere. Once he even peed on Chris while riding on his shoulders. Finally, I had the good sense to revert back to bribery.

Jonas has gotten into the Rescue Heroes phase after being given a few action figures for his birthday, so one day I told him that if he stayed dry all day we would go to the store and he could get a new Rescue Hero. I made sure that I helped him with this goal by taking him to the bathroom a lot. I wanted him to do it in the first try so he knew he could. That night at eight o’clock, right before bed, we ran over to the BX and bought a new guy. Jonas was elated. The next day he stayed dry again and asked to go to the store for a new Rescue Hero. I made him a deal that if he stayed dry three days he could get another one. He met the challenge, and in those three days went from me forcing him onto the potty to him whipping off his diaper and peeing there on his own. We are having very, very few accidents and Jonas is quite proud of himself.

I’m quite proud of him too. When you think about it, it is rather remarkable that we go from being totally unable to control our bowels to being able to control them in our sleep. Learning the different sensations and gaining the ability to ‘hold it’ is a pretty neat thing.

Obviously, I would hate to spoil it for the rest of the world- but seriously- WHOA. This one leaves you in shock at the end and begging for the last book. That’s all I’m gonna say.

I can’t blog today because I’ve got to go to the store and buy this, then I have to read.

Traveling with small children isn’t as hard as it looks (usually). I know a lot of people who really spaz out when they contemplate a plane ride and accompanying layover, but knowing my handy dandy tricks will help you.

Pre-boarding And Why That Sometimes Isn’t Smart:

Most major airlines will let people with small children pre-board. Unless you are traveling on an airline that lets you choose your seat upon boarding, don’t do this. No toddler wants to be confined for an extra forty-five minutes. Run your child in circles at the gate until they do the final boarding call, then board. At that point, almost all of the other passengers will be seated and you probably won’t disturb other too badly when you arrive last.

About Seating:

If your child has a seat of his own on the airplane do schlep your carseat. They will allow you to check this item, but trust me, you want your kid strapped down in something he can’t escape from. Remember how the flight attendant demonstrates how to latch and unlatch the seatbelt at the beginning of the flight? Your kid is watching. Unless you want to duct tape him into his seat for the duration of the flight, bring his seat. If you have a lap baby talk to the person at the gate and see if you are traveling on a full flight, frequently the flight won’t be packed and you can be moved to have an open seat next to you.

About Avoiding Screaming Children And Not Forcing Your Fellow Travelers to Hand You A Chute And Toss You Into The Wild Blue Yonder:

If you have a typical child, there are things that will set him off and things that will make life a lot easier. Now, ordinarily, a good parent doesn’t give into the child’s every whim and fancy. However, a plane trip is not the time to enforce any unnecessary rules or do anything that could cause a major melt down. Pick your battles wisely. Junior has to stay in his seat for take off, but if he wants to rip the complimentary magazine into five hundred tiny little pieces and will scream bloody murder for an hour if you stop him, let him shred to his heart’s content. Don’t cause fights. They will win. Be a good parent later.

You must come prepared for your flight. Some people think they can travel light with children, but it is time to face reality. You have got to have a carry on and a well stocked diaper bag. In your carry on bring at least two changes of clothes for each child and one for you. I can’t tell you how many times I have needed to change clothes after having a kid puke on me or drop his pop in my lap. Bring double the amount of diapers and wipes you think your kid will go through. Also, bring a large ziplock bag or two for the soiled clothing and diapers.

I always pick up a few new toys and books before a flight. They don’t have to be anything fancy or expensive, in fact, I will usually save happy meal toys for a month before my flight and pull those out. Anything new will buy you at least five minutes of peace. Don’t bring any toys or books that make noise. While the other passengers will appreciate that your kid isn’t screaming they won’t appreciate listening to “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” being played twenty-seven million times.

Food, Which Is No Longer Served On Airlines Because They Are Damned Cheapskates:

Food is my saving grace on most flights. Always bring your child’s favorites. My son loves fruit snacks. At home, he doesn’t get these very often. On the plane, I let him eat an entire box because it keeps him busy and happy. He will poop green for a week, but it makes for a pleasant flying experience. I also recommend bringing a spill proof cup. This will help you avoid that pop in the lap scenario. Bring yourself something to drink with a lid. I know the airline will give you a free drink, but your child will spill it. Shell out the extra buck and bring a real drink. It’s worth it. Before you get on the plane either pack or pick up a decent meal. We favor McDonald’s because there is one in most airports and the meals come with a toy (yes, you can get a breakfast happy meal). If you plan to purchase something on the plane, have small bills with you. Do not, no matter what kind of monster your child has turned into, buy yourself alcohol. Very little skeeves me more than seeing a parent having a quick one to help them deal with Little Monster’s behavior. This makes you look like an incompetent parent and a drunk. Just say no. If I see you doing this while you are on my plane I will give you hell about it, and you will deserve it. I might even spill my drink in your lap and blame it on turbulence.

The Layover:

Think of the layover as a good thing, because it is. It gives you a minute to regroup and gives the kids some time to burn off steam. Most airports have children’s play places. If you have a long layover, they are very much worth checking out. If you are lucky enough to fly through Chicago you will be in for a real treat because their play place was designed by the Chicago Children’s Museum and it rocks! If you are in a terminal with no playplace and you just need twenty minutes to chill and let the kids run find a Companion Care Restroom. These are big enough for your kid to run while you can change diapers and clothes and do your business. If someone else needs it, they will knock and you can make a quick exit. While you are in there it is probably going to be really tempting to sit your carry on on top of the sink so you don’t have to squat down to get to all your stuff. Don’t do this. Those sinks are automatic and you will soak everything. Resist the urge!

We have a layover tradition of buying a new book. That way you will start the second half of your flight with something fresh and your child has something to look forward to.

How Am I Supposed To Haul All Of This Crap With Me During A Layover?

Always bring a good stroller. You can check it at the gate and it is the key to successfully maneuvering through the airpost. If you have a baby sling, bring it. If you don’t have a sling, why not? This will keep your hands free to push the stroller and catch the older child as he is running down the wrong jetway about to board a plane for China. Put your carry on in the lower basket of the stroller and hang your diaper bag over the handles. Your car seat will fit nicely over the handle bars. You might need to push the car seat to push the stroller (especially if you have a booster seat), but you will be getting around. One thing to remember is to remove the diaper bag from the back of the stroller before you remove the child from the front unless you want your stroller to flip over.

I have made an illustration of how this is to be done. Please forgive the fact that I am not much of an illustrator.

Upon Arrival:

When you arrive instead of running out to meet whomever is picking you up, spend a few minutes in the bathroom pulling yourself and the children together. You don’t want to meet Grandma looking like you’ve been through a war. Put the children into the clothes you wanted them seen in at that point. This way, you look like you are really good at this traveling with children thing, even if you blew it.

To go home: Lather, Rinse and Repeat.

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