Yes, we did.

We the people, in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

After 8 years of watching this sacred document be abused and disregarded, I am proud of us for standing up for ourselves in this way.

While we are on the subject, how well acquainted are you with these? And how many have been violated, ignored, and flouted by the Bush administration?

The Bill of Rights

First Amendment – Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

Second Amendment – A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.

Third Amendment – No Soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in any house, without the consent of the Owner, nor in time of war, but in a manner to be prescribed by law.

Fourth Amendment – The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.

Fifth Amendment – No person shall be held to answer for any capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a Grand Jury, except in cases arising in the land or naval forces, or in the Militia, when in actual service in time of War or public danger; nor shall any person be subject for the same offence to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb; nor shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself, nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.

Sixth Amendment – In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district where in the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the Assistance of Counsel for his defense.

Seventh Amendment – In suits at common law, where the value in controversy shall exceed twenty dollars, the right of trial by jury shall be preserved, and no fact tried by a jury, shall be otherwise re-examined in any court of the United States, than according to the rules of the common law.

Eighth Amendment – Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.

Ninth Amendment – The enumeration in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people.

Tenth Amendment – The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the states, are reserved to the states respectively, or to the people.

Sure, there are more rights and amendments that I did not include here. The Constitution is a living document, after all. But these first 10 amendments, the basic rights ensured to us all, has never changed. You will notice, also, that these rights are not granted only to citizens of the United States. They are universal rights afforded to anyone who lives here, for whatever reason and under whatever legal status. Just sayin.

Lecture over.

Norman

I'm at home, waiting for my hairdye to complete its formidable job, so I thought I'd update you on the homeless fellow I mentioned a few posts ago.

The Caboose and I have seen him regularly at our bus stop downtown in the Financial District, and each day we have a pleasant chat. By chat, I mean he launches into his typical monologue of loose associations and flights of ideas, while the Caboose and I smile at him and wait for the local bus to take us to his preschool. The Caboose never speaks to Norman, but he asks about him all the time and anticipates our meetings.

We have learned, from Norman, the following:

* He has crashed the Cannes Film Festival, where he met Maurice Chevalier.

* He was married once and wanted to adopt his wife's son, but the child's biological father forbade it.

* He doesn't sleep at the bus stop (though we have not yet learned where he does sleep.)

* Someone has taught him that its polite to rise when speaking to a lady, as he always stands up to talk to me.

* He did not know that the words chevalier, cavalier, and cavalry all come from the same root.

* He enjoys calculating the diameter and circumference of things.

* He agrees that I am not as dumb as I look.

After our most recent meeting, the Caboose and I climbed aboard our bus and sat in the back row, which is our usual spot. The Caboose stood on the seat, hands pressed to the window, and screamed, "GOODBYE NORMAN!" a dozen times to be sure he was heard. Norman didn't hear him, but everyone else on the bus sure did.

More of the Same (Addended)

• Greetings.
  
  It's Umma here. That's right. Booper has started calling me Umma sometimes. He is learning at light-speed in his KIP program. He now knows the following, in Korean:
  
  * How to count to 20
  * How to sing Happy Birthday
  * How to sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
  * How to write his name.
  * How to say, hello, goodbye, thank you, freeze, stop what you're doing and look at the teacher, stand up, sit down, and behind. (we taught him koon-denghi, but he's learned an alternate word.)
  
  There is a lot more that he understands but can't say on his own. His pronounciation is impeccable. He enthusiastically gobbles up all the bul-gogi, kalbi, or man-du that I can make. (Though this may be in part due to a growth spurt because the other night he consumed an entire adult-sized burrito.)
  
  What's even more astounding is that the Caboose is learning a lot of these things too, just by association. It's true that their minds are sponges right now. So all the scholastic stuff is going great.
  
  Booper is also making a lot of friends, and I'm holding my own with the other moms. Some better than others, as you can imagine. Last night, however, I hit a snag. You see, one of the moms has a tradition of holding these periodic Moms Cooking Nights at her house. (She has an older child in the KIP program, so she's a veteran with these things.) She invites all the moms over, and then one of the Korean moms shows the rest of us how to make authentic Korean food. I'm all over that. Unfortunately, the first one falls on a weekend when my Mom is going to be in town. In order to avoid stepping on anyone's toes, I sent the following to the moms email list:
  
  "I would love to join in for the mom's cooking night, but want to ask the group if it's okay if I bring MY mom. She is visiting for Halloween weekend, and I know she'd love to join us. She is a lot of fun, very social, and loves to try new foods. All that to say, I don't think she will cramp our style. Is that alright with everyone? "
  
  A couple moms responded that it was fine with them. then I received this from the hostess:
  
  "I hope you are not offended but this event is really a KIP Mom only and meant to discuss classroom issues, etc. Inasmuch as I would love to meet your mom and I am sure she is very sweet and would have a fun time with us (and we could probably learn from her as well!), in the past, it became too big as other moms, sisters, etc. were visiting...and it was difficult to say no to one and not the other and it became a general party rather than a "school" related bonding event.
  
  Thanks for understanding. I hope you are still able to make it, even for a little bit."
  
  Now I don't want this to turn into some big *thing.* I am going to be dealing with these parents for the next 5 years. But I was a little surprised at this response, as I felt it was kind of controlling to say that we can only come to the dinner if we are going to talk about school things and this is not a "general party" (not sure what that means.) What do you think? Am I being too sensitive? Misinterpreting?

Addendum: At pick-up this afternoon, I ran into another mom from the class. As we were walking to get our kids, she kindly said, "By the way, I just want you to know that I thought "hostess mom's" response to you about the cooking night was kind of mean. I would have said it was fine for you to bring your mom." I actually got a little choked up when she said it. I guess this hurt my feelings more than I thought. I felt sort of rejected or excluded, and they don't even know yet what a handful my mother is!

I am still interested in other perspectives, so fire away!

High Holy Days

La Shana Tovah! Happy New Year to all you Red Sea pedestrians out there. The countdown has begun....Ten Days to atone for all the sins of the past year. Granted, my sins are pretty mild by San Quentin standards, but pobody's nerfect, as the T-shirt says. During these ten days--so the tradition goes--I am supposed to approach any fellow shtetlers to confess my transgressions and ask their forgiveness. If I do so, they are obligated to forgive me. But since we are in the modern age, I will do so via the internet. So here goes:

1) I did not go to shul yesterday. And even worse, I walked past a HUGE synagogue just as it was letting out, holding hands with the boys, who were loudly asking "What's going on in there?" "Why are those people wearing those little hats?" I told them it was a synagogue, and when they asked for an explanation, I said, "it's a place where Jewish people go to talk with G-d. Like a church, but for Jewish people." To which they replied, "Oh...then you can go in there. So can we. How come we never go in there? And what about Daddy? Will they let Daddy in?"

2) I took the boys for ice cream cones yesterday afternoon after a wonderful check-up at the dentist. While I wasn't looking, the Caboose decided to climb up on the cafe table. But instead of him climbing on top of it, it fell down on top of him. On his FACE! He has a laceration on his precious little nose and one on his gorgeous little eyelid. I rushed him to the doctor, adrenaline surging, and they glued the wounds closed. But his eye is swollen nearly shut. He says he looks like a pirate. I think he looks like Joe Frazier. I know he will heal just fine, and it could have been a lot worse. But WOW! Do I feel guilty about that.

And these are just in the past two days. Going back further:

3) I have eaten an apple from the work fridge that I'm not sure was mine.

4) I de-friended someone on Facebook because he doesn't support Obama.

5) I have ignored my mother's phone calls at times because I don't feel like talking to her.

6) I have re-used birthday gift bags.

7) I have played Scrabulous/Scrabble Beta when I should be working.

8) I have coveted another woman's purse/shoes/coat/jewelry.

9) My driver's license does not reflect my true weight.

10) I have lied to my children and told them I don't have gum, when actually, I do.

11) I have consumed my children's Halloween candy without their permission.

12) I have gossiped frequently about other mom's at preschool.

13) I have judged. Boy howdy, have I judged.

Perhaps it is appropriate for me to stop at unlucky #13. So there you go. My Day of Atonement Meme. Now it's your turn. In the comments section, please.

The Next Level

I was going to write a sarcastic and, no doubt, inciteful post last week about Sarah Palin, but I just can't get motivated to finish it. Is there anything I could say that hasn't already been said? I do not personally know anyone who remains undecided about this election. But if any of you are, please let me know, as I will do my best to offer compelling reasons to vote for Obama. Otherwise, I think I'm just preaching to the choir.

I am finally getting into a groove with the whole kindergarten/preschool transport thing. We have a system going that takes me 90 minutes, door-t0-door, to cover about 8 miles. Don't get me started. The Handyman can only offer sporadic assistance, so it's on me. Part of the commute involves taking the Express Bus downtown, just the Caboose and me. It's kind of our "special time." I bring magazines, flashcards, or workbooks to pass the time. Then, once we're downtown, we look for Cable Cars, F Trains, or other exciting vehicles. After the Express, we take a local just a few stops to his school. This involves waiting at a bus stop in the Financial District. Every morning, inside the bus shelter, sits the same benign old homeless man. He has a shopping cart full of the usual trappings of homelessness, though he is also usually reading the New York Times. He always greets us enthusiastically, then launches into some stream of consciousness monologue that leads me to believe he is bipolar and off his meds. He has told me I look like Shirley Temple, Margaret O'Brien, and "a movie star." He calls the Caboose, "young man." He has regaled us with stories of his career at General Dynamics and his travels around the country.

This morning when he saw us, he said to the Caboose, "Hey! I recognize you! I've seen you here before. You and your Mommy!" Then he started to talk about Yogi Berra and Yankee Stadium. Poor thing had no idea what he was getting himself into. He didn't get two sentences out before I hijacked the conversation and started rattling off the most interesting factoids about Yogi Berra, starting with the fact that he has appeared in a record 14 World Series. He didn't know any of them, and was thrilled to learn. Soon enough, our bus arrived and we were off with a promise to see him again tomorrow. Now I'm curious to know how this man became homeless.

For those of you who don't speak Yiddish, the above is what we call a shana punum, or beautiful face. It can also be called a zeesa punum, or sweet face. We just call it Booper. And Booper took his test this weekend at martial arts class and is now an Orange Belt. He was so proud of himself, but not nearly as proud as I was of him for sticking with martial arts despite the rough early going. The test involved him doing some things alone, in the front of the class, and I thought for sure this would spell disaster. Instead, it spelled O-R-A-N-G-E. Woot!

Kang-gangsulle

Surprised you, didn't I? Well, Kang-gangsulle is one of the many things I learned at the Chusok celebration last week. This special day at school was a BLAST! We did the traditional Chusok dance, cooked songpyon, and made han bok-wearing paper dolls. Posting photos is a bit of a challenge, as I don't want to "out" anyone's kids. So here is a small sample to give you the general idea.


The children, all in han bok, walk to the auditorium for the Chusok assembly. The school supplied han bok for those who did not have them.

The teachers all wore han bok. This is Ms. Kim, the second grade teacher. Her han bok was gorgeous (and she is pretty great-looking, too. Booper talks about her a lot, and I think he has a crush on her.) She is reading a Chusok story to the assembled children. A lot of the moms wore Han Bok. I don't currently have one, but I am considering a purchase since there will be many more of these Korean celebrations in the future for Booper & The Caboose.

Another "line-up." Here you can sort of make out Booper's kindergarten teacher, Ms. Lee.

Later that evening, the moms from Booper's class all met for Korean food at a local restaurant. This particular establishment has a program in place where they donate 20% of your bill to the Korean Immersion Program. We had a private room in the back. Lots of laughing, eating, and planning ensued and we were there for nearly 3 hours. When I arrived home, the Handyman said, "I have this vision of you sitting at the table with, like, 8 Korean women." I told him, "You're close. It was me and 11 Korean women." And I loved it! Some of the moms speak hardly any English. Some speak hardly any Korean. Some are fully bilingual. And all are thrilled to pieces to have gotten our kids into this wonderful program. The feeling of community is inspiring.

I brought home some leftover kolbi, which was served the following evening for dinner and quickly devoured. I went to the Korean Market yesterday and bought some more to serve for dinner tonight. Check me out, getting all Jewrean on yo a$$. I asked the Handyman the other night, "so...you didn't start out married to a Korean woman, but it looks like you're going to end up that way. How's that going for you?"

Time Marches On

This morning at kindergarten drop-off, one of the Dads turned to me and said, "They grow up so fast." We've all heard this innumerable times, but I don't agree. In fact, when my kids were babies, I felt like the newborn stage was interminable. (Above a photo of the two of them the day after we brought the Caboose home from the hospital. It almost looks like the Caboose is smiling, but I think he's just trying to push his fat cheeks out of the way so he can breathe.) I know, not very maternal. But there it is. At least with the Caboose I realized that it would eventually come to an end. But not soon enough for me. I am not someone who does well without sleep, so the lack of rest along with the difficulties of breastfeeding (I can only use one boob, so supply is a chronic issue, but there were many others) and the never-ending tedium of diapers, feedings, pumping, baths, housework, regular work, cooking, etc. felt at times like more than I could bear. I would daydream about what life would be like when my kids were preschool age or older, able to walk, talk, and do things for themselves. In fact, sometimes I would have to chastise myself about wishing away their entire first year and instead try to get my head in the game, enjoying the present.

Now I find myself in this curious position of having these older, more independent kids that I dreamed of, and feeling some pangs for the past. For example, last night Booper informed me that he would like to get his homework done early so he can help me cook dinner. He explained that he wants to learn to cook so he can make dinner every night! He also offers to help with laundry and vacuuming. He is the sweetness, absolutely. But don't be too impressed. He now receives an allowance for the performance of certain basic chores (tidying his room, putting away laundry, clearing the table after dinner), and he can earn more $$ by doing extra chores. So this may all be a clever ploy to fill his coffers.

Lately, the Handyman and I have discovered the ease and convenience of asking Booper to get things for us so we don't have to get up. I remember when I was a kid, my parents would ask me to "get my purse," or "bring me a napkin." I would always think to myself, "what's the matter? Are your legs broken?" But now I see the beauty in the bottomless energy of an eager-to-please child who is proud to help.

In any case, while I am loving all this new maturity, I also find myself nostalgic for his younger self. The soft feet, silky hair, sweet breath. I crave more snuggles now with the Caboose because he still has that delicious toddler body, buttery skin, and plump cheeks. I can lift him and easily carry him. He stealthily climbs into our bed at the crack of dawn every day and burrows in next to me for a morning cuddle. Booper likes to cuddle too, but he is getting so big that I can now rest my head on his shoulder, instead of always the other way around. When he climbs into bed, it usually involves a knee in my (full) bladder and an elbow to my face. He has morning breath. He is a boy. He is turning into his own person and I am fascinated by getting to know him. So there is all this ambivalence about nostalgia for the old and admiration for the new. But did it happen "too fast?" Not for me. It feels like I've been being his mom for a looooong time. Here I am serving the brownies at his 5th birthday party. Check out his smirk.

On an unrelated note, have you heard this expression, "it is what it is?" I loathe this expression. I think it's meant to explain a position of Buddhist-like acceptance of the inevitable, but to me it sounds like giving up. A verbal shrugging of shoulders at something that is just not worth caring about. That attitude annoys me. It's like the new "whatever."

Clueless

Booper likes brownies.

That much I know. But here's something I don't know. Can you serve brownies on Chusok? Am I even spelling that right?

His class is going to be celebrating this holiday next week at school. He is supposed to wear his han bok to school, but we don't have one. The kids in his class dress in their han bok and parade around the school for the other kids. Then they go to their classroom for a celebration. We are invited to come and take part in a Chusok feast, but I don't know what to bring. The Handyman says that his family didn't celebrate Chusok when he was a kid, so he has no clue either.

Suggestions welcome.

Otherwise, things are going well. As a reward for doing all his homework this week, Booper is allowed to participate in show-and-tell. I thought he'd want to bring his new baseball mitt or maybe one of his trains. Instead, he surprised us by taking his guitar to school. (This was one of his birthday presents.) He looked like quite the Bohemian with it sticking out of his Cars backpack as he shuffled into his classroom.

Yesterday, the Caboose walked up to me and said, "kom-som-nee-dah." No reason. Just felt like practicing, I guess. He slays me. Currently he is trying to learn all the words to Last Train to Clarksville.

Week Two

After the beautiful long weekend, it's back to the salt mines for Booper. Actually, he returned to kindergarten enthusiastically, even after telling me in the car that he doesn't understand what his teacher is saying most of the time. The Caboose has moved to a higher class at preschool, so he is feeling pretty proud of himself, too. Can't wait to hear all about his day.

On Friday, I spent about 90 minutes in Booper's KIP classroom for that August Birthdays party. During those 90 minutes, I think I heard his teacher use 10 English words. Total. She speaks to the class almost exclusively in Korean. All the literature about Immersion told us she would do this, but it's a bit shocking to see it in action. I felt like a fish out of water, so I can only imagine how the kids feel. When I arrived, the children were sitting in their seats, utterly silent, eating cupcakes. (I was a few minutes late because the Caboose fell asleep in the car on the way there.) Ms. Lee, his teacher, was walking around the classroom saying, "Does this taste good?" in Korean. Don't be impressed. I know three Korean phrases: Thank you, Have a nice day, and This tastes good, so she happened to throw one into my wheelhouse. I also know the words for mother, father, grandmother, grandfather, older sister, older brother, aunt (both sides of family), uncle (mother's side only) baby, rice, butt, penis, and fart. Thanks to a commenter, I now know the word for friend. That's it.

In any event, she speaks to them in Korean even when they address her in English, which is pretty much always. Somehow, they get the message, though she often has to repeat herself. She had them clean up after themselves, choose an activity, line up for dismissal, and learn the word for House, all in Korean.

Meanwhile, I sat at a little side table with three of the other moms, preparing homework sheets, while the Caboose took a long nap in my arms. Of those three moms, two were 100% Korean and spoke pretty much only Korean and to each other. The third was born in Korea, but moved to the U.S. at age 3 and hardly speaks Korean at all. She tried to talk with the other moms, but was frustrated at her own inability to find the words. I chatted with her quite a bit, and we hit it off nicely. What we both realized is that this little class of 20 kids is going to be together from now until they complete 5th grade. Sure, there will be minor changes. But this "little family," as she put it, is our reality for the next 6 years.

The Holy Grail

The Caboose's preschool is closed this week to get ready for the "new school year" starting on Tuesday. So I am dabbling in the world of the SAHM. Today we ran some errands, as most SAHMs do.

Our first stop was at the Kukje Supermarket, a GINORMOUS Korean supermarket in Daly City. I have never been there before, but my in-laws always hit it hard when they come to visit. The primary reason for going is that Booper's kindergarten class is celebrating all the August birthdays at school tomorrow, and I volunteered to bring some kind of culturally relevant dessert. The Caboose and I stopped first at the Korean bakery on sight and purchased Mochi (I know these are not Korean, but kids like them) along with some cream puffs at the owner's suggestion. After paying, I said "thank you" and "have a nice day," both in Korean. She giggled a little, probably at my miserable pronunciation, and then handed the Caboose a bag of free food. Sweet!

We wandered around the store, looking at the immense array of noodles, ban chan buffet, fresh fish, and snackage. The store has an enormous housewares section, so I tooled around a little bit in there. I started to feel sentimental and a little teary-eyed, knowing that my mother-in-law would have loved this store and would have gladly explained everything I needed to know, patiently answering all my questions so I might better feed her son and grandsons. In any case, I turned the corner and there IT was. The holy grail.

The polyester Tawashi scrubber. (I have searched for a photo on line, but can't find one.) You know the one: yellow, polyester beehive-like weave used as a dishcloth or scrubbing tool. I have seen the Eemohs go wild for these, and here I was knee-deep in their midst. I toyed with the idea of buying all of them and mailing them out to the family. But I thought better of it, realizing I can always come back to buy more. Perhaps even some of the KimChi Mamas would like to place an order for this and other delicacies. I did, however, buy an extra for Booper's new teacher. Apple, shmapple. I know the real path to teacher's pet status!

And while I'm on the subject, I must revise my previous estimate. Based on new data, culled from conversations at morning drop-off this week, Booper's Korean Immersion class is about half Hapa. He has already started to learn how to write his name in Korean. I am amazed. They also sang "Head, Shoulders, Knees & Toes" in Korean. Talk about the Holy Grail, I think a public kindergarten in San Francisco that teaches all this from an adorable campus in a gorgeous neighborhood just might be it.

Liberty and Justice For All

The first-day drop-off was going fairly well until they busted out the Pledge of Allegiance. Turns out they still say this every morning at public schools. I remember all the words, and the recitation of this long-dorment vow of fidelity to the union brought back so many memories that it was hard to hold back the tears. But I managed to keep it under wraps until Booper was out of view, then I let out a few sobs. sniff. I am not the type to generally consider him "my baby" and all that, but it's pretty overwhelming to send your child off to school with so many variables and other factors beyond your control. It's hard to trust. Which is why I feel better to know that at least Booper is with his "meshbuchuh." (Yiddish for "his people.")

Now that we are back home, I can say definitively that the day went very well. No tears or reluctance for Booper. He had a lot of fun today, loves his new teacher, and is looking forward to going back tomorrow. I have some new information to share, also.

1) Coincidentally, we ran into one of his new classmates at the shoe store on Saturday as we purchased his Kindergarten Shoes. This girl is one of the few non-Korean kids in the class. I learned, from her mother, that both her parents are Israeli and her older sister also went through the Korean Immersion program in the past. You would think I would have a lot in common with these people and maybe even feel a kindred spirit. But then she made this irritating statement: "We don't really care about Korean. We just like the private school feeling of the program." I nearly lit her hair on fire. What do you mean you don't care about the Korean part of the program, you posers? That's the whole point! It's people like you who are taking the slots that should go to children and families who are connected to Korean and will involve themselves fully in the field trips, class projects, and cultural opportunities. (Did I mention that the First Lady of South Korea visited the school last year?) Then she went here: "We like it because there are no behavorial problems in this class. These kids are all inclined to do well academically. So the class is quiet and focused on learning." I guess that's good, but why does the way she said it leave a bad taste in my mouth?

2) After drop off this morning, the Handyman and I were evaluating how many of the other kids and families are Korean. He said, "Wow. You weren't kidding. There is a whole lot of Korean going on there." (For the record, I noticed 3 kids with the last name Lee and 4 kids with the last name Kim, out of 19 kids.) To my surprise, he followed with this, "I hope Booper doesn't get a lot of teasing and trouble from the all-Korean kids because he is only part Korean." I have read about this situation on KimchiMamas, so I was prepared that it was possible. But I didn't realize the Handyman was tuned in to it. Fortunately, there are 2 other Hapa kids in the class, plus the two non-Asian kids, so I expect it won't be a huge problem.

3) The class seems to be predominantly female. Of 19 kids, I'd say 12 are girls. This bodes well, as Booper has a way with the ladies.

4) We are totally free of Veruca now. She remains behind in Pre-K. So that whole drama is Ovah!

Seoul Brother #1

You won't believe where I just was. Are you sitting down? We just got home from the "Meet and Greet" at Booper's Korean Immersion kindergarten class. That's right. You heard me. We got the call yesterday, and he is now officially enrolled in kindergarten. But not just any kindergarten. He is in our dream class: Korean Immersion. I was one of only 4 non-Koreans in the room. The teacher, who is Korean, greeted us in Korean and the room is packed with English and Korean books, learning tools, pictures, words, etc. Consider my mind blown.

We are thrilled, and I am a bit scared in the way that all moms are when their eldest is about to start school. Will he be able to handle it? Will he make friends? Will he like it? Will it be too academically rigorous for him? But now with all of the questions colored by the reality that he is a Hapa in a strange land. He is now in class with just 2 other Hapa kids (near as I can tell) one African-American boy, and all the rest Korean kids.

It's a little too much for me to process, and I know I will be leaning on my readers for support. But for now, I thought I'd share the happy news with those of you who read along as we went through this crazy SFUSD journey. It had a happy ending. Or perhaps more accurately, it has resulted in a happy beginning.

Now things are getting interesting

So you know how Booper has started at his new pre-K? You don't? Oh. Go ahead and read back a few posts and you'll see it. Don't worry. I'll wait.

Okay, all caught up? Let's move on then. The summer is a strange time to start a new school because there are a handful of new kids from around the city, along with a smattering of veterans who are poised to start kindergarten in a few weeks. I have been getting to know the names and faces of his new classmates, cuz I'm funny like that. A couple weeks ago, during pick-up, I met one of his new pals and the new pal's Dad. I couldn't shake the feeling that Dad looked familiar, and he definitely oozed charisma. Since I pride myself on being someone who never forgets a face, I was determined to get to the bottom of it.

I have since figured it out. Dad is a sort-of celebrity around these parts. There are plenty of boring reasons why he is well-known, but the memorable reason is that he was part of a big political scandal in the city last year. Without "outing" them totally, I think it's safe to say that his wife (who is GORGEOUS) was having an affair with an uber-famous person, who also happened to be the Dad's friend. This bombshell came to light because the Mom was in rehab and had to make amends for all her transgressions, which involved confessing the affair.

At the time that I heard this story, I was as fascinated as the next person by the salacious, Shakespearean drama. Now that I have met their son, however, the whole thing seems sad and confusing. I saw Mom dropping off the son at school the other day, and she looked harried, frazzled, and overwhelmed, just like most of us. No sign of the picture-perfect movie star good looks that were featured in the news last year. Just a mom, trying to see her son off at school. Difference is, she is struggling with a substance abuse problem that is a matter of public record. For all I know, lots of the other parents have addiction issues, but they get to keep theirs secret. And believe me, there are days when I would certainly give serious consideration to a dry martini and a couple lines. It was a fairly standard means of escape for me to fantasize about the single life, once I found myself fully immersed in marriage and motherhood. Not that I really wanted it back, just that I enjoyed the mental vacation that those fantasies provided.

So while it's easy to get all judgy-wudgy on her, I will use my blog forum to be the first to say, "Sister, I feel you."

Breaking Stuff

I had a dream last night that I was hanging out with Brad Pitt, Angelina, George Clooney, and their pals. I said something sycophantic and dumb, then worried that they thought I was a loser. When I woke up to the sensation of Booper climbing on top of me to snuggle, I felt a momentary sense of relief, thinking that my reputation with them was still clean. Wow! What a break! Because you know I am going to be meeting them any day now.

Not much else is new with us. The most recent round of waiting pool list has been run, and still no spot for Booper in Korean Immersion. Our final shot will come on September 8th, when they run the "10-day count." Then it's do or die time. Assuming that doesn't pan out, we will be entering the fray again come September, this time with private schools in the mix. We don't really want a private school--nor can we afford it, especially with the Caboose set to start one year after Booper--but I feel that I can leave no stone unturned. Once I'm in the thick of this, I will institute a Whine Alert level so you can avoid any posts that are really nothing more than one long kvetch-a-thon.

Meanwhile, Booper is blossoming in his pre-K and we have not heard hide nor hair of Veruca. She is so last week. He has made a passel of new friends and she is still moping in the corner, sucking her thumb. I am planning Booper's birthday party, and I asked him if he would like to invite her, to which he replied, "definitely not." Okay, then. I noticed that when I picked him up from school the other day, a female classmate shouted, "Booper! I love you!" as we were packing up. What can I tell you? The kid takes after me.

You know what else is great? Halfmama is coming to visit us this weekend. With the twins. And G. Aren't you jealous?

Now...it's personal

This past weekend, Booper had his first "soccer practice" with his new team in the local micro soccer league. He was anticipating it greatly. Turns out, Veruca is also on the team, though this did not keep Booper from enjoying himself greatly. The coach is a mom we know well, assisted by her husband. They are parents to two gorgeous Hapa girls that Booper knows from preschool. The younger one is a rascal, full of energy and spirit. She has, however, developed the unfortunate habit of calling kids "dooshy." Say it out loud. Not good. Where she got this, I don't know, but we are putting the serious kabosh on it at our house. Veruca's Dad (VD) is also an assistant coach. Booper likes him a lot (??) and I noticed him spontaneously hug VD on more than one occasion.

That was all well and good until VD crossed the line. As we were packing up to go, Booper revealed that we were heading home to watch the Yankees vs. Red Sox on the TiVo. VD, who is a native Californian, told Booper that he should absolutely root for the Sox. Clearly, the man does not have an allegiance to the Sox, he just wants to annoy me. He was filling my son with all kinds of crazy ideas, such that, when we returned home, Booper was cheering for the Sox for the first 3 innings. He kept saying to me, "Mom...is it okay for me to cheer for the Sox? I can choose any team I want, right? The Giants aren't playing, so I am cheering for the Red Sox."

I know, I know. He can pick his own team, if he decides he really likes a team. Heck, my Dad was a Dodgers fan. Brooklyn Dodgers. But they moved away and broke his heart, so he was forced to choose another home team for us, and he picked the Yankees. He sometimes held his nose to do it, but he did it just the same. That's how baseball works. It's inherited. So I fully expect him to like the Giants, being an SF kid and all. I can work with that. But I absolutely will not tolerate this indiscriminate cheering for the Red Sox. While you're living in my house--the house that Ruth built--you will follow my rules.

I can't tell you how disturbing it was to watch my son's gorgeous, pure lips form the words, "Go Sox!" I imagine this is how it will feel the first time I hear him use the F word (and I don't mean fart.) I had to walk away. This may sound crazy to those of you who do not have a passion for any sports team in particular, but it was absolutely driving me ape shit. So much so, that I turned off the game and watched it after the boys were in bed. (The Yankees won, heh heh heh.) Now VD is on my list. It's bad enough that you are raising an ill-mannered and snotty little princess, but don't fuck with my family traditions. We are New York baseball fans in my house. And while my husband and I may forever disagree on the relative merits of the Mets or the Yankees, there is one thing upon which we always agree: We hate the Red Sox. Sometimes, just to keep in shape, we hate the Celtics and the Patriots, too.

In an effort to expel the bad taste of that experience, we are showcasing the Caboose and his new Karaoke machine. This was a gift from his Harabuji. It's pretty popular with all of us, though. Last night, I was throwing a little BP in the yard with the boys, and Daddy used it to "announce" the batters as we approached the plate.

http://www.youtube.com/v/w1Jaw9cqBBU

Justice

Based on the comments from my previous post, it sounds like a lot of you have experience with this particular breed of girl: The Veruca. I have been learning a lot these past few weeks about this sub-species, and I am proud to report that sometimes karmic justice is swift.

Booper, Veruca, and another little girl from their class have been moved up to the Pre-K program along with a handful of other kids from campuses around the city. In September, a few more of their classmates will make the switch. Booper was anticipating the move greatly and has taken to it exceedingly well. This school, for one thing, has a rooftop playground, which they get to use twice a day. It is also larger with more areas to explore. A couple days before starting, he told me, "I am looking forward to going to the XXXX class because I know I'm going to make new friends there, and my new friends won't tease me." Amen to that.

And boy, was he right! He has made a passel of new friends and left Veruca in his dust. I have heard from her parents that she is not doing so well with the transition. For one thing, she still sucks her thumb, and in this class there is a rule that one must wash hands after sucking your thumb. (I imagine the idea is to make it so inconvenient that eventually the behavior is extinguished.) For another, she is now in a class with a lot of kids who don't know her from a hole in the ground, and they are not interested in listening to her crap. Consequently, she is not the Queen B she once was. oh boo hoo hoo.

Of course, I know it could be worse. A dear friend put her son in summer camp until he starts kindergarten this fall (in a Japanese bilingual program at another public school.) Her son was shoved into a locker by another boy--one he has known for years--and was left there to suffer. He was terrified, of course, and eventually another child fetched a counselor and he was freed. These are 5 year old boys, mind you. Not teenagers. When the camp director approached the shover's parents to discuss the matter, they deflected all responsibility and made it seem that my friend's son had brought it upon himself. Sheesh. Kindergarten is going to be rough for that kid if this is how he's behaving now.

In other exciting news, Booper has developed a taste for salad. Any kind of leafy greens will do, with celery, and some dressing. Yesterday I gave him a bowl of baby spinach and he gobbled it up. I thought I died and went to heaven. Heaven being the place where the Caboose is lying in that header photo up top.

The Bitch is Back

While Veruca has eased off when it comes to teasing Booper (after I let her know one morning that I did not approve of her behavior, nor did I appreciate her lying about it when we all heard what she said,) I did see that she reduced another girl (another member of the Princess Posse) to tears this morning after slinging some cruel insults her way. After being reprimanded, little Veruca sat teary-eyed, sucking her thumb for all it's worth. Oh boo hoo.

What is noteworthy about all this is that Booper, Veruca, and a couple other members of the Princess Posse will be transitioning together to pre-K next week. They tour the new school this week, then next week make the switch for real. Booper is excited to "graduate" to this new classroom (at a different location) and I am looking forward to seeing a dilution in this toxic little dynamic. Booper knows several kids in this class already, so my hope is that he will be welcomed warmly and find himself with a bevy of other playmates at school.

We remain on the waiting list--excuse me, "in the waiting pool," for a spot in Korean Immersion. And we will stay there until the fat lady sings. So this could mean a sudden change at the last possible moment, but we are prepared to seize the chance, should it present itself.

Meanwhile, I am developing quite a little grudge toward Veruca. How does a 41-year-old woman come to find herself disliking a 4-year-old girl? Have any of you wrestled with this before? Her parents seem like cordial--if somewhat clueless--people who are bumbling through child rearing. They have been told about this problem, but are frankly ill-equipped to handle it. They try their "full court press" to no avail. Will she ever get put in her place? Or will this reign of terror continue? I am just so grateful that we are not going to know her during her teenage years.

While I'm on the subject, let me share this story with you all, because I think you'll really appreciate it. Veruca is often babysat by one of the teachers at the school. This teacher, we'll call her Kim, is a Korean adoptee, raised in Iowa by a Caucasian family. She is kind of a strange bird, lives alone, very quiet, wears a lot of Disney T-shirts, but altogether sweet with the children. She is utterly devoted to Veruca and her family, babysitting for them at least once per week. I was talking with Veruca's mom about this unique bond the other day, and she said to me, "I just hope that [Kim] is out of our lives before [Veruca] figures out that she's not cool, and just rejects her."

WT Flying F is that? Is this what you are accepting from your kids? That it's okay to "reject" loving, caring adults simply because they "aren't cool?"

We have one more year with this family in the pre-K, and then I'm cutting them off. Quick fade and we're done. Our younger son will then move up to pre-K, and their younger daughter will remain in the same school, so we will not cross paths. I don't have the cajones to just "break up" with them. I have never been good at breaking up. Especially with friends or acquaintances. Have you had to do it? How did you manage?

We are trying to embrace this as the "learning experience" that it is, and I know there will be other problematic schoolmates in the future, but I can't suppress the urge to just cut and run.

Oh, and that's the Caboose and myself at Lake Tahoe a few weeks ago.

The Princess Posse

Booper is quite the Romeo at preschool. There are a few girls who have targeted him for matrimony and Prince duty. I know these girls are into the Princess thing (Ariel, Belle, etc.), so I chalked this up to the Disney effect. Plus Booper is a gentle soul with a beautiful face, so what's not to love? Booper didn't seem bothered by it, so I let it ride, even when I arrived at school to see these girls draped all over him, hugging and kissing him. Once I even saw their ringleader standing there with her hand on his ass. I am not kidding. (and yes, we had a parent/teacher conversation about that last one.)

In the last few weeks, though some of these girls have turned on him and started teasing him about whatever they could find. The ringleader, Veruca Salt here, is rather a spoiled brat, so I think she was annoyed at Booper for not always giving in to her demands and requests. The Boop is a sensitive guy, though, so he just got his feelings hurt and even dissolved in tears in my lap one afternoon after a particularly brutal session.

Come to find out that this bunch of girls has also been picking on another of Booper's classmates, a little girl we love, who I will call Sophia. When Sophia first came to school, one of the Princess Posse was pinching her every day and leaving bruises! That has subsided, but there has been consistent teasing and ostracizing of sweet Sophia. We found this out because last night Booper had a sleepover at Sophia's house, and her parents were sharing their stories with us. In fact, we joked about how Sophia is going to be in deep doo-doo when the Princess Posse finds out that she had Booper all to herself for an entire night.

This morning, I was dropping the Caboose off at school and I ran into the Princess Posse. Veruca asked me, "Where's Booper?"

I said, "He slept over at Sophia's last night, and her Daddy is dropping him off later."
Veruca: "What?" (crestfallen look on face.)
Me: "He slept over at Sophia's house last night and her father is going to drop them off in a little while."
V: "Really?" (stricken look on face.)
Me: "Yup. Really."

I am so petty, but I have to admit that I took great satisfaction in delivering this piece of news to Veruca. Mostly because she has been giving Booper such a hard time lately with the teasing and, on his behalf, I wanted to exact some small measure of revenge. But also because of what they have been doing to Sophia. It is small of me, I know. But there it is. I fully expect to receive a sleepover invitation from Veruca's parents round about 8 p.m. tonight, a.k.a. first available opportunity. Not because they want Booper to sleep over, but because they want to give Veruca what she wants. Well, Booper is nobody's Wonka Bar, so we are prepared to gently turn them down. Can you believe we are dealing with this already?

Ennui

Wow, I am bored. And I realize I have not posted to this blog in too long, so excuse me while I brain barf a series of unrelated, and unimportant, thoughts.

* Booper has a sleepover planned for this weekend. No big deal, right? But this time he was invited to sleep over at a girl's house. A sweet, adorable girl that we love. And we love her parents. I asked Booper if he was okay with the idea and received an enthusiastic yes! So we are going to their house for Korean food, then Booper stays over and we go home. Does this seem weird to anyone else? Part of me thinks, "Hey...I didn't have boys sleep over when I was a kid." But another part of me thinks, "Hey...they are Korean. So that makes it okay!" Reminds me of the time that my father-in-law left my son with some random Korean people at the zoo while he went to the bathroom. I know he figured that, if they're Korean, they're okay.

* I think Angelina Jolie is gorgeous and has never looked better.

* I wonder why all the women on Survivor have shaved armpits and no bikini line. Even if they waxed right before it started, by day 30 they would have some strays. So what gives?

* One of the kids in Booper's preschool class hit me yesterday on the ass. Without really thinking, I wheeled around and said, "XXX, that is not okay! I do not play with boys who hit!" And then I walked away. He is the *problem* boy at school, and Booper often tells me that he "gets his choices made for him" because of his behavior issues. Poor little thing is just confused. He has two mommies and a daddy and none of them live together (or within 20 miles of each other) and he doesn't know which end is up. But hitting is just not okay. This boy goes to a different parent's house every night--unless one of them is out of town--and I can't imagine what this is like. Different clothes, different toys, different rules. I feel for ya, kid, but keep your mitts off the tush.

It is really hot here today. It's never hot here. This is one of the reasons I love San Francisco. Never too hot. Never too cold. Always just right, Goldilocks. As a result, we do not have air conditioning at home or at work. So here I sit, schvitzing.

Round 2 -- Skunked Again

In an act of amazing efficiency, the school district was able to get our Round 2 acceptance letters out one day early. Ergo, I received Booper's assignment letter today. If you can call it an "assignment letter." Essentially, it said, "You'll get nothing and like it." I mean, who do you have to fuck to get your kid into kindergarten around here?

Let me back up: The letter told us that he did not get a spot in the Korean Immersion program, nor did he get a spot in any of the other schools we requested. He will remain in a waiting pool for the Korean Immersion, but the chances of that working out are slim to none. It would require that a family that already has a spot relinquish it for some reason. Historically, this is rare, and rarer still in these highly coveted language immersion programs. So how do you say, "You're fucked" in Korean.

So my child has no kindergarten assignment for next year. If we wanted to, we could check out some of the schools that still have spaces like The Asbestos Laden School or Cripsandbloods Elementary. The only good news is that he does have a spot in the lovely pre-K program at his current preschool where they will teach him to read and write and where he will have a wonderful year of stimulating curriculum with his current group of friends. So we can go through this bullshit again next year.

The preschool is great. In fact, the Caboose's class is do a project on cultural diversity. The teacher made them passports to travel the world. Their first destination was Africa. This week they went to Korea! All the Korean moms of beautiful Hapa children in this class (there are 3 half-Korean/half-white tots in just this class) brought in han bok and treats for the kids. It was wonderful.

Alright, I'm going off to mope somewhere.

A teeny tiny update

Because I can't leave well enough alone, I called the Educational Placement Center today for a little more information. I have a few clarifications to report: 1) The Round 2 letters are mailed on April 28th, so look for me to post results on the 29th or 30th. 2) As of COB today, there are 6 children in the waiting pool for Korean Immersion. That's actually not too bad. Last year there were 10. And of that 10, 2 families got spots. But they are not finished yet entering all the applications, so this number "changes daily." What they could not yet tell me is how many spots at the school are open. (Those who were offered seats had to accept them by March 21st, or they are offered to families in the waiting pool. Naturally, I'd like to know how many, if any, seats remain open.)

I will say one thing: The people who answer the phone at this place are always really friendly. You'd think, after months of dealing with neurotic parents, they would be kind of fed up. Maybe they are just drunk with power.

Round 2

Lacking the aforementioned Korean secret handshake, I sent the Handyman downtown with our school enrollment forms last week as planned. He had an enlightening visit. I am reluctant to post about this, just on the off chance that some how some way some one should read this and it would torpedo our chances. But suffice to say, we made the necessary adjustments and filled out paperwork for Round 2. When the dust has settled, I'm happy to share all that we learned.

Here's where we stand: We are allowed to list ONE waiting pool choice, and we can submit a list of "alternative" school choices that we would consider for assignment as well. For our waiting list choice, we put the Korean Immersion program. Duh. I've heard that tenacity pays off with this process, so I'm in this for the long haul. Wouldn't you be? A chance to send your child to Korean Immersion for 5 years, capped off by a school trip to Korea and then another 3 years at a wonderful public middle school? For this to pan out, we need a family to turn down its assignment to this fantastic program in favor of another school or moving away. (In reality, we may need this to happen a few times until they get to us in the wait pool.) The chances are slim, but we have to try. For "alternative" schools, we listed our neighborhood school, which is a sweet little school that would be fine. Just fine. It's closeby, friendly, adequate. It's painted blue. If we should get a chance to attend kindergarten there, the tough decision would be to take that and run, giving up the ghost on Korean Immersion, or try again next year after a year in pre-K.

Results of this round of assignments go out on April 25th, I think. If we still don't get what we want, there are other chances later in the summer that we could be plucked from the wait pool. We can stay in that waiting place until 10 days after the school year starts (the notorious "10 Day Count" when they count the students and fill in any empty seats. We have heard that families will get a call 10 days into the school year telling them they can have their desired spot if they are okay with switching their kid. We would be willing to do that for Korean Immersion.)

To answer some of the questions you have posed: NO OTHER CITY that I know of in the U.S. runs their public schools this way. This is part of a program known as ""School Choice" which is really just a nice way of saying that they wanted to integrate the schools, but school assignments cannot be given out based on race as this was found to be unconstitutional. So we have this wackadoo system where you can theoretically choose your school, except that it seems the vast majority of people flock to the same schools, then many people don't get in to any of their choices and are all dumped in other schools that are totally unworkable. So if you don't live within the city limits of San Francisco, which is also the County of San Francisco, you don't have to fret about this.

I try to keep a level head on most things, but the frenzy regarding schools is outrageous. I know Moms who were literally in tears for a week because they did not get the school choices they wanted. I feel lucky that we have the option of pre-K, and also relieved that we did not go through the private school admissions process this year, which seems much more personal as they are assessing your child and you!

So here we are. What a pain in the ass! (hence the photo.) That, by the way, was the Caboose's caboose. Delish!

It's not Who you know, it's Who you ARE.

The kindergarten drama continues round here. While the spots are swirling among the various private schools, we continue our undaunted pursuit of the Korean Immersion Program at a well-regarded public school. SF boasts many language immersion programs, but this is the only Korean one. The others are Cantonese, Mandarin, Japanese, and Spanish. The kinder class has 20 seats, some of which were taken by siblings of the older kids (don't know how many). So we are vying for one of those few remaining seats. We didn't get one in Round 1, so we are submitting our name for the Waiting Pool and hoping for the best. Last year, 2 seats were made available to families in the waiting pool, so there is a slim chance. I realize now, however, that I may have made a crucial error by not emphasizing on our form that we have a Korean speaker in the home. Apparently this is a big factor, though nowhere on the form does it ask that.

The application form did ask us these questions:

1) What is the first language your children spoke: For our kids, that is English.

2) What is the primary language spoken in the home: You got it, English again. (If you don't count chaji, koondengi, and pangoo as "primary language.")

3) Please mark the box next to the racial group that your child most identifies with, ranking them 1, 2, 3, etc. Huh? I am supposed to rank them? My kids are Hapa. the Ha and the Pa are equally important and equally present. You can't possibly expect me to rank them. So I put an X in the Korean box and an X in the "White" box. I guess this wasn't good enough.

A little bit of history here: Up until 1946, on most public enrollment/application forms, "Jewish" was a racial group. One can argue the merits of that, if one wants to, and I don't, but it is a fact. So a person back then was categorized as either Caucasian, Negro, Oriental, Jewish, etc. I know these terms are antiquated, and in many instances offensive, but they are the terms used at the time. After WW II, Jewish was dropped as a racial category and Jews were supposed to say they are "White." Again, one could argue the merits of this, and I don't want to, at least not right now. So being asked to classify my kids as "white" and "Korean," and then being asked to prioritize these things was, to put it bluntly, fucked up. Oh, and they say that they are asking for the racial information for purely demographic reasons. It has no impact on school assignment. Then why ask me to prioritize it?

So now we are in the situation of having to strategize to get into the KIP program, or else have Booper do a year of pre-K, which I'm sure he would love, then do this all over again next year. I am really okay with "red-shirting" him for a number of reasons. But I am feeling pretty annoyed at how we have to go through these machinations to get our kid into public school. Despite our annoyance, the current plan is to have The Handyman, in all his Korean glory, go down to the Educational Placement Center and let them know that we have a Korean speaker in the home. This is supposed to be very desirable, as he could potentially help the kids with homework, etc. Can you believe that this is what it takes?

I spoke for a while with a mom who sent both of her kids through this immersion program, though they are not at all Korean. She loves the program and thinks it's "perfect" for us. I agree. It is perfect. We are committed to the culture and the language and would be very enthusiastic about the annual school trip to Korea and the Korean student exchange in 6th grade. She said a lot of folks ask for the Korean Immersion just to get into the school, then they drop it after a year or two and go into the general education strand of this highly regarding elementary school. Jerks.

Any other ideas out there on how to handle this? Is there some secret Korean handshake I can do with someone to grease the wheels a little bit?

What's good enough for my children

I am pissed off today. So if you plan to read this entry, I suggest you put on your helmet.

We received our "letter of assignment" on Saturday, telling us which public school Booper has been assigned to for kindergarten. We received exactly NONE of our choices. (The process involves listing up to 7 schools that you would consider, then they assign you to one of them based on their fucked up "diversity" selection system.) Instead, he was assigned to some for-shit public school, nowhere near our house, where the mother of one of the students was shot a couple years ago by her estranged husband. We are not sending our child there. I am not sending my precious son to kindergarten in some concrete dump with inferior facilities, mediocre academics, and underfunded extracurriculars, that cannot guarantee basic safety in their own parking lot. Needless to say, we are not accepting this "assignment."

Our options, at this point, are the following.

1) We can "select" a few other schools that we would consider and hope a space opens up for him in one of those. Of course, these are the schools that still have openings, meaning no one else wanted to go to them either.

2) We can put him on the waiting list for ONE school only, and hope he gets a spot.

3) We can keep him in pre-K for a year and then try this process again next year, including private schools in the mix. Because of his birthdate, he did not make the cut off for a lot of the private schools this year so we didn't go that route at all. Not that we really want private school, but if our choice is private school or some bullshit like this, then we'll take private, thank you very much.

Our top choice school for him is the Korean Immersion program at one of the popular public schools. Thirty-eight other families made this their top choice. A total of 130 families had it somewhere on their list. And this is for less than 20 spaces. (We don't know how many exactly because the class size is 20 but some spots are taken by siblings. Maybe all of them were!) I think some families say they want their children in this program just as a way of getting them into the school in general. It's one of the most desirable public elementary schools in the city. Then they ask to switch out later, to the general education track. But in the meantime, they take a spot that could go to a child with a genuine interest in learning to read and write and speak in Korean. Like Booper. We did not get offered one of these very few spots, unfortunately. But my inclination at this point is to put this program down for our one waiting list choice. I've heard this can work, if you're tenacious. One thing I am is fucking tenacious. I applied to UC Berkeley 3 times before I got it, and then I was the valedictorian of my class. So the fucking joke was on them, those assholes.

I guess it could be worse. We do have the option of having him go through one year of pre-K at his current school, which we like a lot. Of course, this costs about $16K a year. A steal compared to the expected $20K a year for private school. Some families have to put their children in kindergarten next year no matter what. But I still feel angry that, after paying property taxes in this city for 5 years, we still can't get our son a seat in even the public elementary school that is 3 blocks from our house. No shit. We put that down as one of our choices, and we didn't even get that. This drives me ape shit. Makes me want to do something crazy, like move to Marin.

I am so frustrated. What kind of system is this? What the flying fuck is this? And what's the best thing to do now?

My Peeps

We are invited to a birthday party this weekend. Ordinarily, this would not be worth mentioning, as there are birthday parties almost every week when you have two kids in preschool. It seems that, at this age, inviting the entire class is de rigeur (we don't, but others feel it's the proper thing to do). This party is different, though. It is the party for the baby sister of one of Booper's classmates. The classmate in question is a beautiful and sweet Little Korean girl, 100%. She has a crush on the Boop, and wants to marry him, which puts her in good company. (It seems that most of the girls at his school have designs on him. And what's not to like?) We feel that she would be an ideal wife for Booper, but that it may be premature to make this kind of decision.

I'm not sure what the genesis of this invitation is, but I am touched and flattered, and a tad surprised, by it. You see, the party is at a restaurant, to celebrate LKG's baby sister's dol. We have never met LKG's baby sister, though we have met her parents who are friendly, intelligent, and kind people. I was once chatting with LKG's mother (who is stunning, BTW) at a school event. She told me that LKG has a crush on Booper. Then added, "What the heck! I have a crush on him, too! Those lips! That hair! He's so handsome!"

I checked the Evite list, and we are the only family from the preschool that is invited (and possibly the only family that is not 100% Korean.) I assume that is because:
1) They are taking this preschool betrothal more seriously than we are
2) They wanted to have a friend there for their older daughter to play with
3) They are wrapping us in the warm, kimchi love of the Korean family.

Whichever it is, we're happy to be included, but I am a little nervous about being the outsider, unfamiliar with the customs, foods, language. I love to experience new things, but I don't want to put my foot in it by mistake. My son's social life hangs in the balance! Sound familiar to some of you Kimchi Mamas? Can anyone offer some guidance on the how-tos? I have only been to my own sons' dols, and I think they were fairly unorthodox. My sense is that this is going to be the real deal.

Wax Off, Wax On

Why do preschool enrichment classes require that you pay for classes upfront? Probably because they are familiar with the fickle whims of your average 4-year-old.

Case in point: Booper was thriving in his martial arts class, enthusiastically participating, and earned his first stripe after the required 5 classes. At the 6th class, the Handyman came along and videotaped the class for posterity. We watched the video endlessly in the living room, oohing and aahing over Booper's accomplishment. But the Boop did not seem so impressed.

The following week, he absolutely refused to participate. Would not even put on his uniform. The Senpei (junior teacher and also Sensei's son) sensitively inquired if "anything happened at school today" to upset him. Nope. He just categorically refused to do the class. I gave him a pass that day and that night we discussed the problem. It came out that Booper was nervous about doing jumping jacks after seeing himself on the video. He does not think he does JJs the right way, and he refuses to particpate in something that he does not do well. (Uh....that gene would be mine. Sorry.) So after a lengthy JJ practice session and a talk about how it's okay to make mistakes, we tried again.

Boop was willing to put on his uniform this time, but he hid behind the elliptical trainer and would not come out, curling up with a big boo-boo face. The Sensei came over to encourage him, but no dice. I told Sensei that Booper was worried about making a mistake with the jumping jacks. He said, "hey, it's no big deal. I make mistakes with the JJs sometimes too." Booper was unmoved. We stayed for 2/3 of the class, then I took him home, angry at his unwillingness to even try. I know it was a mistake to be angry, and even in the moment I knew it wouldn't help, but I was frustrated at the thought of having spent all this $$ on the class only to have him refuse to do it. I'm not sure why this touched such a nerve in me, but I was pissed. I resolved to talk with Sensei the next day to strategize.

As soon as I walked into the dojo, Sensei asked, "So what's up with [Booper]? Why doesn't he want to do class?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," I answered.

"When that kid smiles, his face lights up the room. But when he's grumpy, look out!" he observed.

"I know. But I don't think it's a good idea to let him quit once it gets difficult. We want to teach him that making mistakes is okay, especially in a class, and that he has to keep trying."

"Yeah, you can't stop bringing him now. He'll just learn that it's okay to give up. Just keep bringing him until you eventually wear him down. Sometimes you have to walk that line between pushing and parenting."

So I resolved to continue bringing him to class. The next opportunity was Saturday morning, after the adult boxing/kickboxing class. In the past, I have taken this one-hour class, which is immediately followed by the preschool martial arts class, and Booper has played or colored while I got my sweat on. The people at the dojo are totally cool with that. So I brought Booper along, hoping he could hang out and get comfortable enough to do his class. (If you knew his personality, you'd know that this is a sound strategy.) I also tried a little "psychology." I told him I was nervous about my class because I was going to have a new teacher, but I planned to do the class anyway, even though I felt scared. I asked him if he feels scared about his class too, and we agreed to support each other through the nerves with a promise of chocolate if we both did our "best job."

Upon arrival, I put on his uniform (I mean I helped him put his uniform on. You knew that, right?) then started punishing myself with kicks, punches, push-ups, and the like. He was watching me intently to be sure I did my "best job" when the Sensei asked him if he'd like to help do some measuring around the studio in preparation for a remodeling project, Booper eagerly agreed. He happily followed Sensei around, holding the tape, counting the numbers, and assisting with the work. They were having a great time, yucking it up. I heard a passer-by ask the Sensei, "Hey...is that your boy?" To which Sensei replied, "I wish."

When it came time for the kids class, Booper again was reluctant to take part. He was worried about the jumping jacks. The senpei lead him over to class and I told him I would do the first part with him (mostly stretching). He agreed. While he did not do any JJs (and that is the very first thing they do), he did complete the rest of the class with aplomb. As a very special reward, Sensei gave him another stripe for his belt. (You're supposed to complete 5 classes for a stripe, and Booper wasn't there yet.) He said that this special stripe was something Booper earned for being brave and overcoming his fears.

Booper was over the moon. After class, he ran into my arms and showed me his new stripe. "Look at my stripe, Mom! I am so happy!" I wanted to run over and give the Sensei a big hug, but opted instead to just whisper "Thank you" as he walked by. To which he replied, "You are very welcome." Don't you love the Sensei? I think I found the right teacher for my kid. Now if I could just get this lucky with the kindergarten thing.

MN in MN

MN: Please forgive my tardiness on this. I was visiting my mother, and the risk of leaving a cookie crumb behind on her computer that would lead her straight to us was just too much chance to take.

You may not know this, but I read your blog every day. I think about you throughout the evening and wonder how you are doing. I imagine creating a voo-doo doll in PN's likeness and jamming the rectal area with sharp little pins.

You know why I am not voting for Hillary? There are several reasons, but here is one that is relevant to this situation: She took shit from her husband that no woman should take, just to further her career. Let's face it. Her husband, while brilliant and possibly an excellent President, humiliated her and her daughter in front of the world. On more than one occasion. And he lied about it, dragging her along with him. I can understand that, while he was Prez, she may not have felt she could dump his ass. But once that part was over, kick that sorry pile to the curb. If she couldn't do it for herself, then what about as an example to her daughter of what NOT to take from a man.

How does this relate to you? Because I am a firm believer that marriage vows are only valid when both parties adhere to them. Marriage may have been created as a lopsided biblical institution designed to enslave women, provide for their economic survival, and offer them protection from roaming bands of wolves, but it's not that anymore. It's a partnership. Takes two to tango, etc. I don't know what your marriage vows contained, but mine did not say, "I promise to take whatever shit you can dish out, allow you to call me names, drive you around so you can get shit-faced when I'm 15-months pregnant, give you all my money to buy darts, clean up your crusty blue underwear, and accept racist and bigoted behavior from your family."

If you did happen to state those vows, then I guess you're screwed. But if you went with the usual "love, honor, respect" thing, then you're free and clear.

So please know that you are doing the right thing. You are doing the only viable thing. You are doing the strong thing. You are doing the sensible thing. You are doing the motherly thing. And we got your back.

Oy, Sensei

Looks like things are going very well for Booper and his martial arts career. He is enthralled with it and looks forward to attending class. The Caboose is a little less enamored, so we're going to push pause for him and let The Boop just do his thing.

But wanna hear the funny part? Today, during my personal training session with Sensei, I learned that he is Jewish. From New York. Bar Mitzvah and everything. He told me he is adopted, which is why he doesn't look Jewish, but he was raised by Jews and considers himself Jewish. Leave it to me to find the only Jewish Martial Arts instructor in all of SF.

I think he is living with the woman who works the front desk. She is half-Korean, half-Chinese, and was telling me how beautiful she thinks Hapa children are. (She was tactful enough to use the word "mixed.") Who knows....maybe there is some Hapa in her future? And for Booper, maybe Hapa is the new black belt.

Ooos!

From Southern Voice

I'm still not able to put my thoughts into words regarding my friend Max. So I am pasting in a recent profile published in Southern Voice in Atlanta. Max was all about spreading his story, so please indulge me in helping him achieve this goal.

I will be dying soon; when is anybody’s guess. This sucks, of course, totally. But I am content. I look at my life and am satisfied — and that’s saying a lot. A definition of successful, even. I count myself lucky. Blessed. Full. Rich.” — Max Beck, Dec. 31, 2007

On Jan. 12, less than two weeks after Joseph Maxfield Beck, known to everyone as Max, wrote this final entry in his blog, he succumbed to cancer, at home and surrounded by those who loved him. And despite the pain he suffered from chemo, radiation, side effects of powerful drugs and just being sick all the time, he never lost his spirit, said his wife, Tamara Beck.

“He was diagnosed in March 2005 and it was stage four then,” she said this week, seated on the couch in her Grant Park home. “He was such a fighter. He said, ‘I’ll be the miracle case.’”

Beck, who was born intersexed and lived most of his life as a woman, was 41 when he died of vaginal cancer. He is survived by his family, including his wife, 7-year-old daughter and 2-year-old son.“My family speaks for itself. Something I never even thought I would, or could, have," Beck wrote in his final blog entry. "I found my soul mate, and she dragged me kicking and screaming into marriage and fatherhood. Kicking and screaming, and I am so glad that she did, for my children are the center of my world, a miracle of noise and laughter and mayhem of which I am so proud and — every day — in breathless amazement.”'

UNFINISHED GIRL'

Arriving home from school during this interview, Beck's daughter introduced herself, then announced, “Daddy’s not here."

Tamara explained to her precocious child with an affinity for dinosaurs that daddy was going to be in the newspaper. “He would have liked that,” said Tamara, who serves as the Grant Park playgroup liaison.

Max wasn’t a stranger to publicity and felt telling his story was a form of activism, Tamara said.He was interviewed by CNN’s Anderson Cooper in 2005, featured on The Learning Channel, profiled on the HBO documentary “Middle Sexes” and appeared on the PBS series Nova.

Max unabashedly told his story of being intersexed to not only reporters, but to young people facing the same struggle and doctors who have intersex patients. One of his passions was working with the Intersex Society of North America (www.isna.org).

Max very frankly discussed his experience of being raised a girl named Judy — an “unfinished girl” the doctors explained when she was a preteen undergoing hormone therapy and eventually genital surgery.

At the time, Tamara said, doctors believed in assigning most children born with ambiguous genitalia as girls because, and she quoted one doctor, “It’s easier to make a hole than build a pole.”Judy eventually married a man, but decided she was a butch lesbian when she fell head-over-heels in love with Tamara in 1992 after the two met in college in Pennsylvania.

When Judy told Tamara that she had a “horrible” secret, Tamara said, ironically, she feared Judy had cancer.

But when Judy — and Tamara is careful to talk about Judy and Max as they were, actually, two different people — told Tamara her “shameful secret,” Tamara said she told Judy it didn’t matter “because I love you.”

“The horrible thing of it was this amazing person was carrying around this enormous secret alone,” Tamara said.“She was and he was the most interesting person I met. He was incredibly deep, able to see beyond the banter to the important stuff,” Tamara added. “Everybody liked him. He had charisma. He had a genuine way of relating to people that was refreshing and surprising."

There is a match to your rough edges, Tamara explained, and Max was that to her. “That was my person,” she said. “He was the person who loved me unconditionally. We had a deep knowledge of each other. I was very lucky — I suspect most people don’t have that.”

FROM JUDY TO MAX

Max Beck found out about being intersex by accident when he sent off for vaccination records needed for a job. His childhood medical records showed he was a “male pseudo hermaphrodite.” Never completely comfortable as a woman, Judy began pondering becoming a man.

It was at an Atlanta Feminist Women’s Chorus concert, when they both went to the women’s restroom and were looked at by other lesbians as “some strange heterosexual couple,” that the couple decided to make serious changes. “That was an eye-opening experience,” Tamara said. “Even among our own we were different.”

Judy changed her name legally to Max and in 1998 started taking testosterone. A visit to the DMV for a driver’s license renewal resulted in a happy accident when a customer service employee took one look at Max and replaced the “F” with an “M” on his license. With that official designation, the two were able to legally marry in 2000.

At the time the couple got together, Tamara said she identified as a lesbian. But by staying with Judy and then Max, her love never faltering, she admitted she doesn’t really know how to classify herself.

“Does that make me the ultimate bisexual?” she asked.

Max never identified as a man, but if society gives you two boxes and male is how you are going to present, then a male you are, Tamara said.

“He did have some guilt about passing and the social privilege,” she said. “But just seeing him change from Judy to Max … there were subtle changes, but some of it was very core,” she said.

The couple never hid from their children, conceived with the help of donor sperm, that at one time daddy was a girl; photos of Judy and Tamara together still line the hallway of their home. To their daughter, the anguish her father suffered as a girl was simply “doctors being mean to daddy,” Tamara said.

For Max, gender was never simply either-or, she added. “He maintained a fluid identity where gender was concerned. Even when we were lesbians, he wanted to be the father,” she said.

As a man with vaginal cancer, Max Beck did not have a built-in support system to deal with this specific issue. A friend suggested he contact the Atlanta Lesbian Health Initiative, and there he found a small, intimate and close group to share his feelings, said ALHI Executive Director Linda Ellis.

LIVING WITH CANCER

“He called us because there was no one else to call,” Ellis said. “It took some conversations to explain and educate folks, but there was never a question [whether] he was welcome.”Ellis came to know Beck as a man whose wife and children were the most important things to him.

“Max had the amazing ability to take what life handed him and build a life out of it,” she said.“There are parts of his story that at first you want to gawk at, like a car accident. And every time a new person came to the group, he had to come out again every time,” she said, “but he did it with incredible grace.”

Ellis described his life as a “radical nature of normalcy.” Not only did he devote his life to his family, he was a recent graduate of the Rollins School of Public Health at Emory University. By simply being who he was, he set an example for all of us, Ellis added.

“I want people to know Max’s story,” she said. “He lived life openly and with grace — and that is my best hope for all of us.”

The ALHI cancer support group continues to meet the first and third Thursday of every month, Ellis said.

“I'm content, I suppose, despite what can only be described as a raw deal, because, in retrospect, I discover I have lived a meaningful life. I have to confess, this wasn't something I planned...it just sort of, well, happened. But it did, leaving me and, I like to think, all of you, the richer.” — Max Beck