Resurfacing Elena's Table, Part 2

So, it's the Saturday of Thanksgiving weekend -- a good time for projects. Given that I was up for hours with a headache last night (I think I got maybe 3 hours of sleep, but that's pushing it), it's a good day for some physical activity. I have a couple of projects just perfect for such an eventuality.

Due to lack of sleep, I'm sure I'll ramble and make several grammatical errors. I hope my editor friend Kathy will look past this. I'm sure I also made several woodworking errors. I hope my woodworking friend will give me a few gentle pointers. I can't quite figure out if it's relevant that my editor friend is married to my woodworking friend... must get more sleep.

So, anyway, one such project is resurfacing Elena's table. If you recall, last time I sanded down the table (by hand, with Elena's help) and applied a simple beeswax polish, letting the pine soak up the liquid wax, and then buffing it down. However, the polish did not stand up to wear, and stains were able to sink into the wood despite the beeswax. That sort of polish just is not the sort of thing for a toddler eating table.

So, this presents the perfect opportunity to get to know my jack plane. Dad had gotten me this plane back a couple years ago for making a few interior doors fit their frames, and I hadn't since had a good opportunity to hone my skills. The stains had sunk in deep, so even power sanding would take a while. The plane is perfect for the job. In theory.

So, I got it out and hardly remembered how to use it, let alone how to assemble and adjust it. After a half hour of fiddling with it, trying different things, and getting frustrated with cutting too deep or not cutting at all or jumping the plane across the surface of the table (called frogging), I consulted the online manuals (youtube).

Lesson #1 learned: how to assemble and adjust a jack plane.

So, now that I had a clue, I went out and had some good swipes. I was still catching my edge on occasion, so I definitely had some technique and fine tuning left to learn. But, ah! Long curly shavings of pine were twirling off of my hands. A truly beautiful... crunch. Uh oh.

I looked down and blinked a few times. How was that possible? A large piece on the edge of the table simply chipped right off. I could see ground where I should be seeing table. This was not good.

Upon further inspecting my mistake, it didn't seem too bad. If I could just plane down the rest of the table a quarter of an inch, then it would hardly be visible, right? The table top seemed thick enough to allow this. As to why this had happened, I thought it a freak of nature, and even if it weren't, I didn't have enough data to go on.

Adjusting my plane a bit shallower, I continued on, some of the rosy color having drained from my glasses. The shavings were coming off smoother now. This is how it's supposed to feel. Nice and smooth. Beautiful shavings curling... crunch crunch. Oh bother.

I could hardly stand to view my handiwork. I had taken a bigger chunk out of the opposite side of the table, this time having ripped off a section reaching all the way down the edge and out the bottom.

Now, if any of you have seen Meet the Robinsons, you would know that this failure would be cause for a big celebration. However, I'm not a Robinson, so I met this with chagrin and a deflated sense of misaccomplishment. But I was going to try and learn from this mistake.

Now, I know that you're supposed to plane and sand with the grain. I've known this since I was old enough to hold sandpaper, and my father would probably attest that I've had to relearn this several times since then. But this is the first time I've planed across a knot. Two knots, in fact. Two knots, both on the edges of the table, in fact. The grain in a knot goes down through the table, and being on the edge offered the knot a perfect opportunity for escape. All it needed was a little bump in the right direction, which I had just supplied. My plane would have had to have been extremely sharp, and fortunate, to have successfully shaved those knots.

Lesson #2 learned: Be careful when planing knots. In fact, don't. Plane around them and sand them down later.

I had now broken my daughter's lovely table, and my family's coffee table (same table). So I did what any self-respecting man should do: I took responsibility for my misdeed and fessed up.

After some incredulity that I was planing the table, Serena offered a good suggestion: glue the chips back on and sand it down.

Lesson #3 learned: Impartial bystanders can offer good suggestions. Swallowing pride can help reverse mistakes by seeking and accepting advice.

So, after finding the pieces, and confirming that I had hit the only two knots on the table, I planed off the rest of the stains and glued the chips back in. One of the chips was missing a bit, which I had to fill with a glue/woodshaving mix. So that's how you make particle board...

And now I'm waiting for it to dry so I can continue with that project. In the meanwhile, I have another one to go after. I'm making a pair of woolcombs to turn a 4.5 pound merino sheep's wool fleece into roving for spinning, with a top whorl drop spindle I also need to make. Why pay $100 when I can make a simple set of combs out of a 1x4 and some nails? Hopefully, that project won't be quite so eventful. But we'll see in an upcoming blog post!

It Rained!

Precipitation of any sort is quite rare here, as I'm sure you can imagine. So when it rained recently, Elena had a lot to say about it, and I took note of her monologue:

"Water in the air falling down? That's called rain. Rain is fresh. Fresh and yummy. It makes me feel better. Rain is fresh. It hits me in the mouth. It will fall in a cup and I will drink it. Rain is fresh water so I can drink it."

Actually, we're not sure it's drinkable, so Erich wants to collect some to test it for contaminants, since acid rain used to be a problem here (I think it's better now, though). Regardless, we're looking at setting up gutter barrels to collect the rain from the roof whenever the rain DOES come so that we can then save it to use in the garden. Water is valuable here, so why let it run down the streets, right?

Digestion

Elena has been learning lately about the digestive system. Now, when she eats, instead of talking about the food going into her stomach, she talks about it passing through her intestines. We're trying to help her understand where her poop comes from. She seems to be getting it. Regardless, it's fun to listen to her talk about the food in her "'testins."

Obedience

We've been expecting more from Elena lately. For example, more and more, if she makes a mess, we expect her to clean it up.

This is not always well received. Either she does it right away, or she refuses. We give her a time out until she does her part around here, but Elena is stubborn. Often, she'll end up in time out for 45 minutes or even an hour.

However, I'm finding that perhaps obedience isn't the core problem here. I take the opportunity to talk with Elena, if I can find her amidst her tears. Here's a conversation that just happened after Elena popped the knob off of one of Nonna's drawers:

ER: sob sob sob
Me: Elena, are you ready to put the knob up on the counter (we thought that would be enough -- she wouldn't be able to put it back on)
ER: sob sob sob
Me: Ok, you can stay in time out then.
ER: sob sob squirm. Hold me?
Me: After you get out of time out.
ER: sob sob sob
Me: What's wrong, honey?
ER: I'm scared
Me: You're scared? What are you scared of?
ER: I want to roooock
Me: Well, we can rock right after you put the knob back. Put the knob back and then we'll go rock.
ER: Watch Sesame Street?
Me: Yes, we can do that. Just put the knob back and then we'll go do that.

She hopped right down and tried to screw the knob back on. I got it started and she finished it up.

I'm suspecting that she's starting to freak out when she gets put into time out, because she thinks her concerns won't be listened to. Talking through her emotions with her is bringing better results than just purely disciplinary action, and it's helping her express her emotional state. In fact, it's interesting to watch her struggle to put words to what she's feeling. Often, when she's talked through what's happening inside, then she's willing to do as we've asked.

Gardening day addendum

Over the course of the past two days, I've gotten pretty close to getting done with my list! I've still got to pick the persimmons and make the lemonade. I've got a few more seedlings to plant. My onion and garlic sets are sprouting, but I hadn't understood there's a top and a bottom to those things, so I adjusted them a little. My broccoli seedings got pretty leggy because I hadn't gotten them into the sun quickly enough, so I'm planting a good bit of the stem on those to see if I can counteract that. I'm putting the carrots in by our preexisting tomatoes because, I hear, they grow well together.

As for the kiddo, she's sitting here beside me watching Winnie the Pooh. She's still not feeling well, complaining about her stomach not working. She's squirming uncomfortably, so I'm inclined to believe her.

Smart girl

Hanging off my arm:
"I'm very smaaaart"
"I'm very smaaaaaart"

"Who told you that, honey?"

"Grandpa"

Garden Day Today

It's a beautiful day out and much to do:

• Weed tomatoes
• Plant seedlings
• Pick tomatoes
• Watering
• Pick persimmons
• Pick lemons and make lemonade
• Take compost out to the garden
• Check on onion and garlic bulbs (why are they not sprouting?)
• Plant more seeds

We'll see how much of that we actually get done...

Sick girl

Elena, poor girl, has been a bit under the weather these past couple days, having vomited a couple times (she did again just today), and generally feeling a bit icky.

This morning within the course of an hour:
Elena poops
Elena poops again
Elena pooped yet again, though this time she didn't make it onto the toilet in time.

"My butt isn't working," she says.

Toddler hypothesis

Elena stands on a stool.
The stool rocks, being unsteady.
Elena gets off the stool.
Elena studies the stool.
Elena says,

"Why the stool rocking? Maybe it's bending."

The Prosphora Fiasco

This post doesn't have as much to do with Elena, but not everything has to be all about her.

We signed up to bake prosphora, which is the bread that is used for Eucharist at church. It has to be made with certain ingredients (flour, water, salt, and yeast), and it has a mold for the top of the loaf, called a "seal", kind of like a butter mold.

Well, it's been like five years since we've done this, and we were a little rusty. In fact, I had never done it at all -- it was all Serena before.

So we got started after Vespers on Saturday night. The bread was needed for the next morning, and already we were starting late, hoping to have had some done earlier in the day. We started into our first couple loaves (we needed five), and discovered our yeast was dead. A quick run to the store, and we have yeast. We got a couple more doughballs rising, putting them in the little oven on the "proof" setting. That, apparently, does nothing, because the oven generated no heat whatsoever.

So after some waiting, we get some dough balls we can start thinking about baking. We preheat the oven. We press in the seals (we have two -- ours and our mother-in-law's). We throw them in and start baking them. We thought we were pretty close to done.

Well, it turns out that that oven is broken, it would seem. It never got hotter than 150 degrees in there, even though it was set to 325. Ahh! Three of the loaves fell, becoming this gooey bread-doughy mess. We had to nearly start all over.

As we're getting more loaves going, it's becoming apparent that the seals aren't taking very well, and that some of the loaves cracked right through the seal during baking. So a couple more loaves...

While waiting for those to rise, I took three of the fallen dough goo-messes and mixed them all up, spreading out the goo on a cookie sheet, to make crackers (or something like crackers) with. I baked that at one of the fallen loaves. Well, it turns out that I should have greased the pan. As I looked at the underside of this somewhat-delicious-looking concoction, I notice some little shiny bits. It stripped off the non-stick coating on the pan! And that was one of my mother-in-law's pans. Whoops. I guess we'll have to get her a new one.

We also put together another loaf just to use up the extra yeast-water we had left over. Serena made that into a braided loaf, which turned out to be the most beautiful one of them all -- the very one we couldn't bring to church!

So we cooked like ten loaves using a full ten pounds of flour, and maybe had five usable ones by the end! We'll have to give the rest to the ducks.

Differing Agendas

One thing about having a two year old -- they're developing their own agenda. They want things to be done their way. They have favorites. They have likes and dislikes, preferences and anti-preferences.

But, my socially-oriented girl wants ME involved in EVERYTHING she does. If I'm not there, it's not worth doing. I got fed up with this about a week ago, and pushed back, insisting that I MUST have five minutes to myself. Not only do I have to check in at work here and there, I have to get at least some minimal amount of housework done. I insisted that she go play by herself (novel concept). She refused, and tensions escalated. She insists that I come and help her pee, which she can do perfectly well by herself. I got angry and upset, and blew up at her. She was afraid of the toilet for a few days after that.

So, later that night, I went googling for things like "independent play" and "entertain herself" and "won't leave me alone for five minutes". I was conflicted -- I want to be an involved father, involving her in everything. But not being able to get anything done for an entire day, literally not having five minutes to myself... there's something wrong with that picture. And I've been becoming concerned with how she doesn't find things independently interesting, often times. She has to have someone else involved. I want her to be curious and live in idea land for a little while at least.

Looking at similar experiences, I came to a couple conclusions:

1. It's not good for a child to have the world revolve around him/her. That's called spoiling, and I was headed in that direction.
2. It's good for a child to learn that people have agendas other than their own. Usually, that's called siblinghood.
3. If she wants to do something with me, she can participate in what I'm doing.
4. I can't play all day. I'm an adult with responsibilities. She can play all day.
5. It'll take some adjustment
   

This all comes together into my motto lately: If you want to be with me, that's fine. You can play over here by me, or you can help with what I'm doing (and I give her a specific way in which she can help or do a similar thing as me), or you can go play by yourself. She generally hates this and throws a fit, but she's being a leech and is not enjoying being unleeched. But I have to work before I play. And it's good for her to see that modeled.

There was one time last week where she was, in effect, threatening to pee on the floor unless I came into the bathroom to help, trying to manipulate me to do something with her. She had always called my bluff on this before -- the thought of her peeing on the floor was too distasteful to me to refuse, and I wanted to encourage her potty training. But she's been really good about toileting, being disturbed herself if she doesn't make it to the bathroom (which is rare). I calmly insisted that I needed to finish something urgent I was doing, and that she could pee by herself. Extremely and visibly conflicted, she peed on the floor in a flood of tears. I insisted that she clean up after herself. She ended up in timeout for a good half hour at least for that one. OK, two minutes are up. Are you going to pick up after yourself? No? OK, back in timeout. And I explained that blackmail is not an option. She eventually had to pee again, which she went to the bathroom to do, came back and cleaned up her pee, and then was proud of herself for going to the bathroom all by herself. Resilient little critters they are...

She doesn't recognize it yet, but already there's being positive effect. I'm not upset nearly so often, making both of us happier. I'm getting things done, which means that I can spend quality time doing other interesting chores like gardening with her. I feel better having some clear boundaries. And I still do things one-on-one with her.

Pre-K Workbook

I was at Barnes & Noble with Elena the other day, picking up a coloring book. We came out with a little more than I was expecting to get. Among the loot was a Pre-K workbook (Ages 4-5) with good initial writing, counting, sorting, etc... skills. Elena LOVES it. She traces the letters and numbers. When asked to circle matching things, she does so. And just today she started pointing out letters on the computer keyboard.

The Picture Famine continues...

Must find that camera...

Our Day Out

Having not had access to the car for a few weeks and needing to do a run to the hardware store, I decided Elena and I would go for a bike ride. The end goal: pick up a little lumber for making a base to a free, broken, sproingy horse and also to get some shellac for trying for a second time to refinish Elena's table (the beeswax, though it looked nice, hasn't held up to wear and tear -- I'm trying something with a little more of a moisture barrier. After a few hours of pumping up the tires, finding my keys, finding my wallet, finding Elena's helmet, finding the Chariot hitch, and so on, we got on our way.

Now this isn't just any bike ride, though. Our household is on the outskirts of town, up in the hills, whereas town is down in a valley. The ride to Home Depot was non-stop downhill for 5.1 miles, during which I became ever more apprehensive at the task of returning home. I became appreciative of Serena's ride to work, which does 7 miles of the same.

We got to Home Depot without incident. Elena had fallen asleep on the way there. I have no idea how kids can fall asleep with their heads dangling on their chests, going over big potholes and such. But I'm grateful.

We got in to Home Depot. I found the wood, and nothing quite so thick as I hoped, unless I wanted 2x4 quality wood, which I didn't. It was just as well, since the 1x4's I did get were the perfect size to bring back with me, and I couldn't have handled anything bigger. We asked for heat-shrink insulative plastic for the windows since it's been cooling off with it getting late in the year. They don't carry any here. Go figure. Crazy Californians.

We found the shellac, denatured alcohol (so THAT'S where you find it! I was looking for some for a pectin test in jam making) as a solvent for the shellac, should I need it. Got the wood, and some fluorescent pink mason twine for securing the wood. It turned out I needed a knife too, since I couldn't cut the twine with my keys, so I got a basic Leatherman, since it's been a while since we've seen ours.

During the 15-20 minutes during which I was hitching up the wood to the bike, one of the Home Depot electricians, out on a smoke break, came over and offered me some wire. It had to be quite a sight. I had these two boards stuck through the frame of our Chariot, one on the right and the other on the left, just inside of the wheels, hanging out a little on both the front and back side.

"I'm an electrician. We use wire to tie everything."
"Yeah, I know. I've known some electricians."
"Heck, we've even tied up people with wire."
(I raised my eyebrows at this)
"If we just drilled a hole in your board, we could loop some wire through it, and through one of the holes on the seat of your bike."
"Actually, I think I'm fine. I've got a nice rolling hitch going here in back, secured to a centeral post of the chariot, and then another rolling hitch in front. It's not likely to slip forwards or backwards. It's not hitting my bike tires or the chariot tires. It's a nice fluorescent pink, being quite visible, and it's not even sticking out much farther than my Chariot flag is anyway. I think I'm good. Thank you, though."

He still wouldn't let me leave without taking some wire, just in case I broke down.

Right before we left, Elena had to pee, so we rushed in and relieved her (YAY Elena! I love it that she's pretty well potty trained).

We went down the road a little to Subway and had lunch. We were both quite hungry. She ate about 3 inches worth of a tuna sub, plus chips and milk.

We went to the yarn store, and I picked up some circular #1 and #2 needles for a project I'm working on. Ive been working with the traditional one-sided needles, but the work is really too large for them, taking a fair bit of effort from me to keep the work from popping off the needles when I come to the end of a row.

Then we started the long, grueling climb back. Five miles, all uphill, climbing maybe a couple hundred feet in elevation. Elena sang to herself much of the way back. People walking on the sidewalk looked our way with smiles at the humming emanating from the Chariot as we just barely passed them, perhaps going 2 mph if we were lucky. I was in my lowest gear most of the way back, and it was still difficult.

We got about two thirds of the way up what now seemed like Everest, and I started walking my bike. It was faster than biking and used a different set of muscles, which I really needed at that point. It was still difficult. I was leaning into the handlebars, having worked up a glorious sweat, labouring at my climb, when along came couple bikers with white button down shirts and sidled up next to me. Mormons.

Without so much as a "Could we help you out with your burden there?" they launched into their have-you-read-the-book-of-Mormon script. Running through the prepared dialogue
seemed to be all they were interested in. Have I read the Bible? Yes, I'm an Orthodox Christian -- it's my job, I replied a little too flippantly perhaps. Had I read the Book of Mormon. Yes, some -- have you read the early Church Fathers? They didn't know who I was talking about. Was I interested in learning more about Mormonism. Not at this time, thank you. And they biked off, leaving me in their wake.

Well, I made it back. All in one piece. Tons of good exercise. Elena seemed to enjoy herself. We got the lumber and shellac, and some knitting needles. My rolling hitches held and worked beautifully. And work didn't try to contact me once during the couple hours we were gone. It was a grand success, I think.

And next time I know what to expect upon such an outing. :-)

Please love the bug.

She handed me an imaginary object and said, "It's a ladybug. Here you go."
me: "What's it's name?"
ER: "Fangin. Please love him."
me: "Love him?"
ER: "Yes. Don't eat him up."

Who's bigger than who?

Elena rode on my back yesterday and got a horsie ride. We haven't done that before, but she really had the hang of it -- she could hold on really well, and dismounted like a pro. She got off and got down on her hands and kness.

"You ride?"
"I can't honey. I'm too big, and I'd hurt your back."
"I'm big."
"Yes you are honey, but which one is bigger? You or me?"
"You're bigger."
"And which one is bigger, you or Mama?"
"I'M bigger!"

Hm...

We don't like telemarketers

I just overheard one of Elena's imaginary phone conversations:

Hello?
Uh huh
No, we don't want any.
What?
Don't call back. Bye.

Addendum to previous post

Then, in the evening, she put herself to sleep. I was rocking her when she turned to me and said "I need to go to bed now." She walked over, got in bed (in our bed with Erich working on his computer in the same room, but still) and slowly went to sleep. And that was that.

It seems like all of these major changes from baby to young girl all happen together. She is now potty trained. She hasn't nursed in weeks (I won't go so far as to say she's "weaned" and will never nurse again, but she's been moving that direction for a while now). And now she's starting to be able to go to bed without being rocked or having someone next to her. Crazy.

I'm pleased that we generally allowed her to move at her own pace with these things. They don't seem to have been sources of stress at all, either for her or for us. And just to make it clear to any of our readers who are more "mainstream" parents: No, it does not bother us to rock her. No, we did not see any reason to "train" her to sleep by herself earlier. It hasn't been inconvenient for us (quite the opposite, really). And I do not at all think that it has harmed her development or stunted her growing "independence" (though I do question whether independence should be a major goal of parenting).

Serena tries to step of the soapbox and trips. Typical.

60 to 0 in 5 seconds

Um, wow. One minute Elena's zooming around coloring in her little notepad. I go and IM a friend. The next minute, she's passed out asleep on the recliner. The surprise is still hitting me. She never goes to sleep by herself except for in the car. Granted, it's a couple hours past her normal nap time (she opted NOT to have one today). But... wow.