Playdough Isn't Food

I Need Advice!

2007-01-01T11:20:00.000-05:00

I'm in a wedding. I managed to get through 40 years of my life without ever doing the whole matching bridesmaid David's Bridal thing, but here I am. I've been a bridesmaid twice but both times escaped the classic dress horror.

I picked up my bridesmaid's dress last week and tried it on for my husband yesterday. The color is "Atlantis" which I discovered today that David's Bridal seems to have discontinued. It is kind of a mermaid-meets-green horror; the picture doesn't do it justice.

In person it is more green, and my husband looked at it and said "you look like a giant Christmas tree ornament."

I spluttered with laughter.

And I mean spluttered.

I spit on the bridesmaid's dress.

So now it is mermaid green with a nice spit water stain on the top and the skirt. Does anyone know how to remove spit stains from satin? Anyone?

Christmas Meme

2006-12-22T16:07:00.000-05:00

I like memes, 'cause my brain is very associative, and I can riff on them or on other people's blog posts much faster than I can come up with my own material. So in the spirit of easy blogging, this meme comes from Sex Ed in Higher Ed. Tag, you are it! Everybody nees a little Christmas meme!

1. Eggnog or hot chocolate? Both. To me hot chocolate is an all-winter thing, while egg nog is a fun treat only in stores briefly, so if I had to pick just one then egg nog is the truly "Christmas" drink. Cooking Light also has a fine fine recipe for Egg Nog Pie. Gotta make me some of that.

2. Does Santa wrap presents or just put them under the tree? Both. It depends on the size of the gift. At my sister's house Santa uses specially purchased wrap that he is certain the kids have never seen.

3. Colored lights on tree/house or white? I like white, but the kids like colors, so now we have colors.

4. Do you hang mistletoe? No. I grew up in the middle of the woods, and mistletoe hung high in the trees. I associate mistletoe with strangers trespassing on our property to shoot mistletoe, and the fear of a stray gunshot. Festive, yes?

5. When do you put your decorations up? We put the outside lights up around Thanksgiving. But we've varied the day we put the tree up. My older daughter's birthday is December 13, so we're still struggling with how to give full attention to her birthday and not have it compete with Christmas. Last year we didn't put the tree up until after her birthday; this year we put up after her birthday party but before her actual birthday.

6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)? It isn't really a holiday dish, but I always make spanikopita for family get-togethers around Thankgiving and Christmas. I like that.

7. Favorite holiday memory as a child? The Christmas morning when the three of us came downstairs and found three piles of 30 or so books each. My dad had gone on a spree at the used bookstore. For me that much reading material was like a big pile of chocolate.

8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? My parents did not believe in having their children believe in Santa. We always found this a little sad. My siblings and I all have told our kids that Santa comes.

9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? We did not as kids, but our parents divorced rather acrimoniously about 15 years ago, so we now have a gift exchange with my dad on Christmas Eve and with my mom on Christmas day.

10. How do you decorate your Christmas tree? We invested in a number of ornaments that do not break! We also have colored lights and a few ornaments we've owned for years. In previous years we've put the tree on a table so kids and pets can't get to it, but this year it is on the floor so we could set up a wonderful train track my brother-in-law helped make.

11. Snow! Love it or dread it? Miss it. I lived in Minnesota for almost 10 years, and I learned to deal with it though I wasn't fond of the length of the winter. Here in North Carolina it never snows for Christmas (BigSister keeps asking where the snow is this year) but it sometimes does for my birthday (in January).

12. Can you ice skate? Hahahaha. No. I've tried. It is humiliating.

13. Do you remember your favorite gift? See "favorite memory." And it wasn't really a gift, but I really appreciate my husband taking a job in North Carolina three years ago just before Christmas so I could be close to family and so I could get out of Idaho.

14. What's the most important thing about the holidays for you? Time with family, and watching my daughters enjoy it.

15. What is your favorite holiday dessert? My mother used to make these cream cheese pastry cookies called something like "kalashkas." The pastry was cream cheese and butter, and the filling was made with nuts and evaporated milk. I've been scouring the internet trying to figure out what exactly these were.

16. What is your favorite holiday tradition? We're working on new traditions. Last year my husband asked that I make crepes and apples for Christmas morning. It is something we associate with our dating years, when we went to Vegas and would have crepes and apples in the Paris resort. I like that, because it seems like a link with my pre-mommy life.

17. What tops your tree? A gold star ornament

18. Which do you prefer, giving or receiving? Giving. I like trying to find gifts that people will really like. I like feeling I got it right.

19. What is your favorite Christmas song? Santa Baby by Eartha Kitt

20. Candy canes? For looking, not for eating.

21. Favorite Christmas movie? The Grinch. And now it is my daughter's favorite too. In fact, I think she is going to be a little disappointed if we don't gather around the tree and sing "Welcome Christmas", so I went looking for the lyrics. My family doesn't know it yet, but we're going to be singing at the Christmas Eve get-together.

Enjoy the holidays.

I'm not a chef. But I know that.

2006-12-17T23:54:00.000-05:00

I'm kind of touched that my site meter tells me that a few folks still stop by, even though I haven't really been posting. Thanks!

I don't have a good excuse for not posting, just a little overwhelmed by the holidays and houseguests (I am NOT doing another mother-in-law post, but yeah, she was here). Do you ever feel like you have this big checklist and the whole race to Christmas is kind of like a bad scavenger hunt where you have to find everything on the checklist before Christmas comes or else your head blows up?

That's where I am.

In other news, I got sucked in to a Usborne Book party a couple weeks ago. In general, my husband and I are firmly against home sale pyramid schemes of any sort. My husband is still bitter about a zester I bought at a Pampered Chef party some years back that didn't last more than two days. But my kids lovelovelove the Usborne "That's Not My Puppy" type books, so I thought I'd give it a try.

Now, I remember my first Pampered Chef party. I was living in St. Paul, in a wonderful kind of midwestern version of the urban single girl. I could walk to bars and stagger home, and I did. But a co-worker invited me to this party in the 'burbs and I went for the cultural experience. It was a cultural experience; I was the only single guest and I think the only childless one. But the thing that struck me the most was that despite the name "Pampered Chef," no real cooking was involved. They were not selling the best in cooking products, they were selling the best in convenience products for creating the illusion of cooking. Every recipe they presented started with "first you open this Pillsbury product." I grew up in an anti-convenience food household. I've learned to appreciate some convenience foods; they're not all bad. But when I use them I don't call it being a "chef."

I was reminded of that at the Usborne book party, when the presenter gaily told us that Usborne sold books all the way up to the adult level. "I've never read the classics," she chirped, "and they have all these great abridged versions of the classics [here she waved around a copy of Jane Eyre] so I'm learning all about them." I loved how she just slid past the word abridged really fast. From a pure marketing MBA level I loved the business model too. Take a book that it is so old that it is in the public domain, one anyone can download from Project Gutenberg, trim a few thousand words, call it literature, and charge $14.99 for it. Pure profit, baby.

I admit I'm a bit of a snob, but it saddens me that the "be a model or look just like one" business model can be so effective in so many other areas. A nice multi-size measuring spoon and I'm a chef, a couple of abridged classics and I'm an English major. Is this really what everyone wants, the quick way to everything? More than "you should have a party too, you get free stuff!" it is the "you can be an expert in something with minimal effort" that gets to me at these events.

Or maybe the holidays just have me grouchy.

Meme

2006-11-15T12:25:00.000-05:00

A Meme from Sex Ed in Higher Ed. Tag, you are it!

You are supposed to use only one word, with no explanation. You can use more words if you type them together and are a big cheater like me.

Yourself: Tired

Your partner: Sweet

Your hair: Cut

Your Mother: Reliable

Your Father: Variable

Your Favorite Item: Kids

Your dream last night: Interrupted

Your Favorite Drink: Pimms

Your Dream Car: 65Vette

Your Dream Home: Beach

The Room You Are In: Living

Your Ex: Drunk

Your fear: EarlyDeparture

Where you Want to be in Ten Years? NewCareer

Who you hung out with last night: Family

What You're Not: Organized

Muffins: Yes

One of Your Wish List Items: InstantThermometer

Time: Limited

The Last Thing You Did: Nursed

What You Are Wearing: ColdFeet

Your favorite weather: Spring

Your Favorite Book: One?

Last thing you ate: Cheerios

Your Life: Blessed

Your mood: Irritable

Your Best Friends: Distance

What are you thinking about right now: Sleep

Your car: Dented

What are you doing at the moment: Resting

Your summer: Busy

Relationship status: Married

What is on your tv: PBS

What is the weather like: Cloudy

When is the last time you laughed: Today

Appreciating the finer things

2006-11-11T19:37:00.000-05:00

When my niece was about three, her dad was gone one evening and my sister said to her "what do you want to do while Daddy is gone? Sit around and watch TV and eat chocolate?"

"YEAAAAHHH," said my niece, her eyes wide and her voice full of wonder, as if to say "I did not even know that was an option!! Wow!!!!"

My niece is 11 now, and about a year ago she said to me "when are you going to start BigSister on chocolate?" as if it was a food group, part of the progression. You know, first you start on vegetables, then fruits, then meats, then chocolate. And at some point, BigSister had chocolate.

I have a confession here. I'm not a chocolate addict. I have respect for chocolate; I like it. But if I'm looking at a dessert menu and there is a chocolate torte or a carrot cake, or lemon sorbet, or pumpkin pie, I might go for any of them.

In my family, though, I'm alone. My husband loves chocolate. My sister loves chocolate. Even my mother, the queen of Scandinavian self-deprivation, loves chocolate.

And I know my children are bitten with the bug now, because last night when my husband started rustling in the Halloween candy my kids came running faster than a cat that hears a can opener.

I guess they've started on chocolate.

Slowly Emerging From Chaos

2006-11-01T09:09:00.000-05:00

Our floors are done. Our stove is back in place. We still have a lot of boxes. Here are a few thoughts from our travels.

One of the relatives we visited had in the basement guest room (among other trash, boxes of textbooks, and non-functional appliances): a can of black pepper, a jar of Folger's decaf, and a container of brewers yeast. Should I therefore not be worried that in the computer room there was a tube of KY jelly?

At King's Dominion there was an attraction labelled "Witche's Cave." Apparently lack of grammar isn't limited to college students. Why wouldn't you proofread, or at least spell-check, before paying a sign painter?

In the metro, we saw a sign for a local university offering you the chance to "Get your dipoma or MBA." Back when I hired people, if their resume said they had a dipoma I would not have offered them empoyment.

Must unpack boxes now.....

Dig

2006-10-08T23:34:00.000-04:00

Downstairs the house is empty. Well, mostly. We left a few things on the existing hardwood floors, chairs and a small table; things for eating.

I've found that the process of moving out of a section of your house is very much like an archeological dig. I'm finding layers, previous versions of my house that I didn't know were there, or things I knew were there but I forgot.

Among my discoveries:

The original color of the cabinets in our kitchen is a very strange pseudo-wood taupe. I'm kind of relieved they were painted aggressive white, even if it is a pain to clean.

I haven't splashed as much down the side of the range as I thought.

When the previous owners re-did the kitchen they didn't replace the wallpaper under the cabinets. OK, I knew this. But until we moved the fridge and the stove I didn't realize how bad it really looks. Each wallpaper seam is separating, like continents that want to get away from each other. I see wallpaper removal in my future.

The "Warning I'm 2" t-shirt of BigSister's that I lost six months ago was in the rag pile. And it probably should have been, as it had a massive stain that now won't come out.

That the first mouse we had, the one my husband called "George" and thought was cute, left little piles of mouse poo behind the bar and under BigSister's bed.

That re-training the cat to a new litter box location is a bigger pain than I remembered.

New floors tomorrow! Sleep at a time yet to be determined....

Why one shouldn't let a one-year-old keep holding Daddy's toothbrush during a diaper change

2006-10-08T11:46:00.000-04:00

Yeah. Uhh, I'll just let you use your imagination.

If I used tags, this one would go under "errors in Mommy Judgement."

What Would You Do If You Had To Evacuate?

2006-10-06T16:19:00.000-04:00

The phone rang at 7 this morning. It was the mover. "I'm sorry I'm late," he said "Traffic is really heavy because they are evacuating Apex."

A cold chill came over me. "They are evacuating Apex?" I had only one thought. Because down there in Apex, see, we got us a new-clee-ar power plant.

"You should turn on the TV," he said. "The Environmental Quality Plant blew up and they are evacuating." All I could think is "what is an Environmental Quality Plant? Is it part of Shearon Harris?"

So I hurried up to my computer. As it turns out, Environmental Quality is a private hazardous waste company. I was downright relieved to learn it was "just" a chemical fire. Even though I'm not in the "evacuation area" for the nuclear power plant, if it was that I'd be scurrying for the hills.

Then I got to thinking. What would I have done if I'd had to evacuate? I mean, my house is not a monument to organization right now. If pressed, I could find a file that has the kids' birth certificates and my marriage certificate and a few other vital papers. I was talking to my mother-in-law and she said "I'd take pictures and videos." I thought "most of ours are on the computer. We couldn't pull the hard drive in time. Would we just toss the CPU in the trunk?" And what about kid clothes? What if we have to evacuate when I need to do laundry? Would I just throw a bunch of dirty laundry on top of the dog in the trunk and run? And there is that diabetic cat, I better bring her stuff too. Or should I leave her here with a pile of food and a prayer?

Maybe we should have gotten that mini-van; I don't know how we'd fit all this in the car. Clearly, I'm going to have to give "evacuation plan" some thought.

Stress Stress Stress

2006-10-05T10:15:00.000-04:00

Monday we get new hardwood floors. As I've said in the past, we have very good reasons for getting hardwoods.

But that doesn't make this time any easier.

We have to move out of the downstairs. We have to haul our refrigerator and our stove into the garage. We have to live in the upstairs of our house, without a stove, for the better part of three weeks. We have to actually move out of the house when the floors are refinished.

Tomorrow a mover comes. I think. When he called he said "did I wake you?" and I lied and said "no" but he did wake me and now I'm thinking "did he say he was coming on Friday or on the 7th? Because I'm thinking he said the 7th and I thought 'Friday' but now I realize Friday isn't the 7th." So I'm going to have to call him. Among my other questions:

I hope we don't have to turn off the refrigerator for very long before we move it. Because I have stuff in that refrigerator, stuff I want. And I was thinking we'd just unload it into grocery bags, move it, plug it in, and load it back up. I'm assuming that will work. Will that work?
Should we get rid of our evil dishwasher as long as we're getting rid of stuff? It doesn't wash a blessed thing. Can the mover move a dishwasher?
Will the movers do packing, or do I have to get all items of furniture cleared of stuff today? And is it today?

Stay tuned.

Biting A Hole Through My Tongue

2006-10-02T13:13:00.000-04:00

She said: I've put some laundry on your pile.
I said: Which pile? (to which she said "the one on the washing machine.")
I wanted to say: You want me to do your laundry when you are only here for two days?

She said: These veggie chips are really good. [Looking at the package]. They have A LOT of calories. A LOT of calories. They really have A LOT of calories.
I said: They are for the children. The kids need calories. [Seriously, I'm on doctor's orders to get more fat into my kids.]
I wanted to say: Have you noticed that only the kids eat them? Could you not snarf the whole bag, because usually it lasts us a week or more, not one day?

I said: The kids really like brocolli.
She ate the whole container of leftover brocolli.
I wanted to say: Could you PLEASE stop eating the kids' food????? Did you have to eat all of it?

She said: What can I do to help?
I said: Make sure the kids stay in the other room while I'm cooking.
I wanted to say: Why is this kid crawling up my leg in the kitchen? What part of "stay in the other room" don't you understand? How about "second-degree burn"? Would you understand that?

I said: We eat late because I have to wait for husband to watch the kids while I cook.
She said: I can watch the kids.
I wanted to say: Then why don't you? Why every time do they wind up underfoot??? And don't even get me started on the time you were watching BigSister and she went for a "swim" in the toilet.

She said: So I see the kids haven't started writing on the walls yet.
I said: The kids will write on the walls. They just aren't permitted to. We take out the crayons for drawing and put them away afterwards.
She said: Oh well, Kay (their cousin) writes on the walls with lipstick. She gets up on the stool and gets it. And she draws on the carpet with nail polish.
I wanted to say: Does my sister-in-law supervise her kids? Ever?

She said: BigSister! Don't stand so close to the TV!
I said: BigSister, will you sit by Daddy?
I wanted to say: I know that it doesn't really matter if you stand too close to the TV. But if you don't move Grandma will never stop saying "move." I'm more concerned that since she wants to watch football all day you've seen more commercials today than you've seen in your whole life.

My tongue hurts. Really.

Oh! It is going to be a fun weekend!

2006-09-29T09:42:00.000-04:00

The phone rang at 7 a.m. this morning. We generally wake up at 8. Yeah, we have the kids trained for a late schedule.

For a minute I thought "who is that?" Then I knew.

"Jenny?" said my mother-in-law "I missed my flight." "OK," I said. "I'll probably be there at 3," she said." "OK," I said." "I called now so you wouldn't go to the airport to get me at 9." "OK," I said. "I'll call later and let you know what is happening. I'm on stand-by." "OK."

In my groggy brain I wanted to say "but, see, I wouldn't have gone to the airport at 9 ...."

Because your flight was getting here at noon.

zzz

All Clear

2006-09-20T11:06:00.000-04:00

Note to self: when taking your child for a procedure that involves, basically, drinking chalk, do not wear a black shirt.

The upper GI showed nothing bad. This is good. The procedure itself involved strapping LittleSister to a board, forcing yucky chalky barium stuff in her mouth with a syringe, and turning her from side to side and taking pictures. Needless to say, she didn't like it.

I take LittleSister to a big teaching hospital nearby, because BigSister had such a positive experience in the NICU there. I truly believe they have the best care around. But every time I go there it is the same experience: the administrative staff are evil and surly, then the doctors are patient, informative, and lovely.

There's also a very evil parking deck that involves circling, but not circling exactly because that would be too organized. It is more likes swirling. In a toilet. And you aren't ever quite sure where you are, but you finally put the car somewhere and hope to find it again. Then you can wait for a shuttle, which may or may not come, or walk a very windy bridge carrying a grumpy hungry child to the hospital.

I got there and asked at the "outpatient clinic" where I should go for an upper GI. She said "downstairs" so down I went. At radiology they said "you have to check-in upstairs at the outpatient clinic." Do you think they could have mentioned that. So we go back. "Do you have your patient card?" says the woman. "She doesn't have one," I say. "She's never been here!?!?!?" says the woman, as if I'm trying to score another plastic card because I so like having duplicate cards in my wallet. "She was born here, but she hasn't been back," I say. The woman sighs deeply. I've been through this before; I have a patient card and BigSister has one. Once the nurse dropped my card behind a machine and I found out they are very easily replaced. But I don't say this. I just wait and in less than 30 seconds she produces a card.

Then we went back downstairs for the strap-to-the-board experience. I'm glad it is over. LittleSister is glad it is over. Now if she'd just quit throwing up.....

Real Life

2006-09-19T20:47:00.000-04:00

I'm not good at the level of open discussion that seems to be required of blogging, especially when it comes to my kids. I dote on every cute action, and worry about lots of things, but that's about my kids. I don't observe other peoples' kids at the same level. Do you?

But it is hard to avoid talking about LittleSister right now. She has a lot of minor issues going on. Several months ago I noticed a little lump at the base of her neck. At first I thought it was a swollen gland, but it didn't go away. When we got to the pediatrician she said "not a swollen gland" probably not major; watch it. She said she'd like to discuss it with my sister, who is also a pediatrician (they trained together). My sister took a look and also thought "not major, but can't quite identify the type of cyst."

Then LittleSister started having episodes of vomiting. She'd be asleep and wake up very grouchy. We couldn't calm her. Then she'd throw up, and then she'd calm down. It happened four times over about a week and a half. So we went back to the pediatrician, who went ahead and gave her a referral to a pediatric ENT for the cyst, and gave us some heavy-duty antacid for LittleSister.

And, oh, has getting that into her been fun. She purses her lips and twists her head and yells while I hold a syringe over her mouth and try to get it in before she spits it out.

Despite the antacid, she had another episode of vomiting. This time it was about 10:30 p.m. She'd been asleep and woke up and wouldn't settle. We took turns walking her around, then she threw up all over my husband. Unfortunately, this time it still didn't settle her and she kept crying and contorting her little body until we all finally passed out around 2 a.m.

So I called the pediatrician again. And tomorrow we go in for an upper GI. LittleSister must fast for three hours before the 8:30 a.m. appointment, so she promises to be in a very good mood. And I have to get some kind of barium drink into a 14-month-old who can't be persuaded to drink any kind of medicine or really anything except water or breastmilk. Wish me luck.

It Is 9/11

2006-09-11T01:03:00.000-04:00

It hadn't struck me yet, because it is after midnight and I was thinking it was still 9/10.

On 9/11/01, I heard on NPR "a plane has struck the World Trade Center." It sounded like a small plane. I thought "strange" and I went to vote.

In retrospect, I am glad I went to vote. There was a primary in Minnesota that day, and I like to exercise my right to vote whenever possible. But it seems particularly important that I voted then, because the right to vote and be heard is so much of what makes us American.

By the time I was back in my car and on my way to work, people were freaking out on the radio and it was very hard to understand what was happening. By the time I got to work, I only had one thought, the thought we all had "where are our planes?" I worked for a major airline. Planes were dropping out of the sky. It seemed that anything could happen next. And anything did happen as the World Trade Centers collapsed. Eventually we heard that all the planes were on the ground, and it was a relief because then we could just cope without this specter of the unknown lurking. Those few hours, when things just kept happening and it wasn't clear when or where they would stop, were very long.

The world changed that day. I am lucky; I didn't personally know anyone who died that day. But I knew a lot of people whose lives were changed. From that day, we knew our airline would have to lay people off, and a little over two weeks later it did. Good people were suddenly unemployed. We didn't know when we'd be able to fly again. We didn't know if anyone would want to fly again. I loved the airline industry when I started and I had been in it 8 years. It was getting tough before 9/11. After 9/11 it just seemed draining and hopeless. In a sense, my life changed that day, but even now I have a hard time finding the words to express it.

I wanted to try to say something more sweeping, but I don't have the words. The world changed that day.

Answering My Own Question

2006-09-11T00:43:00.000-04:00

We caught 13 mice before declaring our garage mouse-free. My husband caught 12 of them in humane traps.

And then there was the 13th.

One night, just as he'd taken the girls up for a bath and I said "I'll be there in just a second," I realized that Diva was inordinately interested in the girls' toys. "This can't be good," I thought. The last time I saw Diva that interested in an inanimate object it turned out I had squrrels living in my walls. In this case, I quickly realized that there was a mouse among the toys. It was a very small mouse, about 2 1/2 inches long, and I think I jumped about 100 times its height. I started to move toys and chase it around, and Diva continued to chase it around too, and grabbed it in her mouth and dropped it. If we'd had a webcam it would have been quite the sight as we both circled the room and I moved objects and jumped. My guess is that Diva brought the thing in from the garage through the cat door for her own entertainment. I tried to find something to trap it, and grabbed a plastic cup. It ran behind the bin-shelves holding toys. I couldn't see it. I feared I'd lost it. Then I realized there was a piece of cardboard on the floor, and I moved it. I jumped again. The mouse was under it. It ran to the corner of the shelves, and I realized I could block it in and get it to run in a shoebox (which I had around for the kids to play with). So I did that and caught it in the shoebox and put the box on the porch.

My husband took it to the woods out back to live with the other mice, though I don't know if "live" is the right word since there is quite the owl population out there. I did find out that my husband's preference for humane traps is not so much because he loves mice, but rather because he once saw a rat partially caught in a standard trap that dragged the trap and trailed blood around the house. Ick. I'm all in favor of the humane traps now. But I still hate mice.

Things Are Not Quiet, Except On My Blog

2006-09-11T00:29:00.000-04:00

We had the house painted last week. It looks pretty good, I think, though hiring a contractor for anything always gives me that same warm feeling as buying a used car. I know if I look too hard under the hood I'm going to find something and does that mean I got ripped off, or does it just mean that perfection is hard to achieve in this life?

Meanwhile, BigSister started pre-school (two days a week, 2 1/2 hours a day) with no major trauma, other than LittleSister crying when BigSister left. Unfortunately, BigSister woke up with a very snuffly nose this morning, so I don't know if we'll be experiencing pre-school this week.

I'm also trying to get things lined up for the really big household project: new hardwood floors. I've talked to a mover to move our stuff into our garage, I have the dates (in October), and my main challenge is figuring out what to do with the cat. She's diabetic, and she hates other cats. So generally when we go out-of-town we get a pet sitter. That doesn't work so well when the house is filled with noxious chemicals. I think I may have a solution, but am hammering on the details.

There's more. There's a cyst on LittleSister's neck, we've been referred to an ENT. I changed vets for many reasons but most of all because the vet tech did not know the difference between CCs and Units and I didn't want my cat overdosed. I am scheduling houseguests. I am scheduling travel during the floor debacle. I am doing everything except writing.

I am reading, though. I finished "The Forsyte Saga," which was excellent, though tremendously long. How did I miss this book? It won the Nobel Prize, but I'd never heard of it except as a BBC adaptation. It is very much of its time, but has wonderful characters who are complex and interesting. Now I'm reading Anne Lamott's "Traveling Mercies," which is good because I could use some faith. Why can't I find a church like hers around here?

Wednesday Afternoon Random Questions

2006-08-23T16:13:00.000-04:00

We've been watching Wallace and Gromit a lot and I'm wondering: why won't my dog let herself be used as a sawhorse? Why can't she use powertools? Why can't she weld? Maybe if I sent her to class....

My husband has caught three mice (humanely) in the garage. Are they really three mice, or does he keep catching the same mouse? (I think he's dumping them in the woods behind our house). How many more do we need to catch before we can safely store things there while the floors are re-done?

Why do I feel such amusement when I hear BigSister say "Use your words [LittleSister]" and such shame when I hear her say "Sh...." when she drops something? Let's face it, both times she is imitating Mommy!

My husband has been on vacation all week. Why have we only completed one item on the to-do list so far?

Life Without Water

2006-08-19T10:30:00.000-04:00

The first time I went to Thailand I thought it was wonderful. I also thought it would be a wonderful place to take kids, once they were old enough to remember to brush their teeth with that bottle of water next to the sink, and old enough to remember to keep their mouth shut in the shower. Third-world water systems presented challenges I hadn't anticipated.

But guess what! I'm getting to have the experience of a third-world water system without travel! My city is on "boil water restrictions" because e-coli was found in the water system. My stove is covered with pans of boiled water and my counter is consumed with a case of bottled water. Empty plastic bottles are everywhere. Last night we had to carefully hose down the kids with the hand-held shower rather than letting them play "swimming" in the big tub as they usually do. I have to keep reminding myself to brush my teeth using the bottle.

Last week we lost power one night for almost nine hours for no discernable reason. There wasn't a storm; something just blew up. The USDA says that 4 hours is the max your fridge can go without power, so I had a festival of trash with the groceries I'd just bought.

My town routinely shows up on lists of the 10 best places to live in the U.S. Apparently infrastructure isn't actually a requirement to be on these lists. And if I'm going to have to deal with dodgy water and no ice, I want to be someplace fun with exotic things to see.

Oh Frabjous Day

2006-08-17T00:08:00.000-04:00

I finally made a decision on a new camera after dragging it out for several weeks. It will be a Canon SD700. I'm so tired of waiting for my Olympus to charge up; by the time it is ready the kids have moved on, especially if I'm trying to take a picture of them together. So in 8-10 days, look forward to some new pictures.

I'm feeling frabjous about making my decision, because I've loved Jabberwocky ever since I memorized it in ninth grade and sometimes Lewis Carroll's words just seem like the best ones. Why does frabjous only have one entry in Urban Dictionary? It needs more use.

Do you think Lewis Carroll stole "frabjous" from some kid of his aquaintance? Today I was putting on mascara and BigSister said "Mommy, you are scaring your eyes." That seems very accurate to me, just as frabjous is the correct word for my feelings about a new camera.

Feel frabjous today!

These Are The People In Your Neighborhood

2006-08-15T16:21:00.000-04:00

BigSister was coloring and I decided to take LittleSister and step out to the mailbox quickly. The first thing I saw was a police car. When I got to the mailbox I looked to my right and saw a second police car. "This can't be good," I thought. One of the policemen was returning to his car and waved to me. "There was a burglary at [the house three down from me]," he said. "Were you home this morning? Did you see anything?"

I wasn't home this morning, because we were having the most miserable trip to the pool ever, with kids running in opposite directions. I'd come home around 12:15 and I noticed a van by the next-door-neighbor's. I told him about that, but later I talked to the next-door-neighbor and she'd had some air-conditioning work today.

I went back in and picked up BigSister and walked over to the neighbor's to offer to take her kids, but the crime scene team had just arrived. "They told me not to touch anything, so I didn't touch anything," she kept saying, over and over. She was clearly in shock.

Like me, she's a stay-at-home mom. I know we keep a similar schedule because I've run into her around town several times recently. We meet at random places, like the museum and the consignment sale. I can tell she also takes the kids someplace in the morning and then comes home for naps.

How unnerving to come home with a car full of kids and find your house has been robbed in broad daylight. I'm shaken by it, and it isn't even my house. And how brazen to risk discovery with a daytime burglary in a neighborhood with a lot of stay-at-home moms.

She'd just had some interior painting done, so it may be that will be the source of the thief. However, on thinking about it I also remember seeing a strange car in the neighborhood last week; one that struck me as strange because it was moving so slowly and the occupants were staring so intently. "People get lost around here a lot," my husband said. Maybe that's it, but I hate the feeling that perhaps someone has been keeping track of all of us.

Just One Book

2006-08-14T00:06:00.000-04:00

I saw this over at Sex Ed In Higher Ed, a wonderful blog that makes me feel better about my brief foray into teaching at an unnamed online U. I thought just those students had issues; apparently many students do. Teacher Lady has a great way of conveying the bizarre situations.

Anyway, as I try to read every day (and I succeeded before I had kids), I thought I'd give this a go.

1. One Book That Changed Your Life:The Long Quiet Highway, by Natalie Goldberg. I read this book when I was living in Minnesota, and she described studying Zen Buddhism in Minnesota. Her descriptions made it sound ... normal. And accessible. And like something I needed. She inspired me to seek out classes, and I took a class in mindfulness on the model of Jon Kabat-Zinn. While I am not good about continuing to practice, the lessons I learned from it continue to help me every day. I think they are particularly helpful as a parent. I know I should focus on the present moment, which conveniently enough is the same thing my children are doing.

2. One Book That You've Read More Than Once: I've read John Steinbeck's East of Eden at least twenty times. I first read it when I was about 10, and now I think "it is nice that I could read at that level, but maybe there were a few ideas there I shouldn't have covered." In particular, after I read it I asked my mom what a "wh-hore" (I pronounced it with two syllables) was. My mom told me it was a "woman who sold her body." Existential little kid that I was, for ages I thought "she sells her body. So does her soul drift around the universe until she finds a cut rate body?" I spent quite some time trying to puzzle it out. I'm not sure when I realized what "wh-hore" actually meant, but I've always wondered why my mom didn't give me a more direct answer since I was familiar with the facts of life.

Anyway, even on multiple readings I love Steinbeck's writing and his characters. I've only spent a little time in Northern California, but I'd love to go and see more of the landscape he describes ... though I suspect that Silicon Valley has changed it radically.

I just went to get the link for this book, and I find that Oprah has discovered it too. I'm not sure if that is positive or negative. I read a lot of books multiple times, so I could pick another. But this is definitely the one I've read the most.

3. One Book You'd Want on a Desert Island: I'd hate to limit myself to one. I've been wanting to re-read Possession, and that does have a book-within-a-book, so I think for today I'd go with that. It brings back memories of long hours in dark libraries, and of a time when studying could be exotic.

4. One Book That Made You Laugh: Confessions of a Failed Southern Lady. Florence King's description of her first post-coital douche still makes me laugh out loud. She grew up in Northern Virginia when it was Virginia, not a suburb of D.C., and if you've ever lived in the south some of her images will be familiar.

5. One Book That Made You Cry: I have to think about this. I don't cry over books much. I did have a hard time with the crime description that opens Jon Krakauer's Under The Banner Of Heaven since one of the victims was the age of my girls. Nevertheless I think it is an important book.

6. One Book That You Wish Had Been Written: "Stories of Successful Sequencing." As an alternative to "stay-at-home mom" vs. "working mom" "wars" this book would tell stories of women who had done both, particularly left and re-entered the workforce, and how they managed it. It would be a little like Po Bronson's What Should I Do With My Life? but would focus on moms and will have a bigger socio-economic cross section of the population than that book did.

7. One Book That You Wish Had Never Been Written: I can't say I've actually read a book that I think shouldn't have been written; the act of writing is important to people. Now if the phrase was "One Book That You Wish Had Never Been Published" or "One Book That You Wish Hadn't Been Promoted So Much" I could come up with more. I was going to say "anything by Ann Coulter" but to be fair, I've only read her essays not her books. So a book I have read and hated is: "What To Expect When You're Expecting." No link, because I don't think you should read it.

8. The Book That You Are Currently Reading: I just finished Sandra Tsing Loh's A Year In Van Nuys. It was fun and it made me laugh and I particularly liked her sketches of your brain in "dream marriage" and "actual marriage." I probably missed half the LA-area jokes, but I got the NPR ones.

9. One Book That You've Been Meaning to Read: Toni Morrison's Beloved. I've carried it with me on several trips; my copy has a sticker on it that I know is from the security clearance in Bangkok. Somehow the sticker moved from my shirt onto the book. And yet I've never found the block of time I need to really focus on it, and I think it is a book that requires focus.

10. Five People To Tag. I haven't really met a lot of people inside the computer yet, so I won't do this. But if you want to do this meme tell me. I'd love to read your list!

In The Category of "Strange Scenes At McDonald's"

2006-08-12T23:33:00.000-04:00

We're at the outdoor play area at McDonald's, where we rarely go but we needed to get some "food" into BigSister fast after a family event that went on too long. I'm waving the bees off the food and suddenly we hear:

"Get your legs together! You don't want to show everybody your stuff. You're starting kindegarten soon and you'll learn to put your legs together. All those nice dresses I bought you."

"Actually," I say to my husband "She only needs to learn to put her legs together before high school."

But it keeps going. "PUT YOUR LEGS TOGETHER. You are showing everybody your nasty stuff." The volume increases. Is there anyone not looking at the mother at this point? Because, really, no one cares if a five-year-old shows her underwear on a playground. It happens. I wouldn't have noticed at all if it weren't for the yelling. The daughter I can see out of the corner of my eye, and she's rolling around in the middle of the play area avoiding putting on her shoes. The mother looked like someone who might have looked normal before got so worked up, but in her frenzy she needs some kind of sedation. And "nasty stuff"? Positive body-image, please.

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That's all I know today. Hi to all the people who clicked over from Blogging Baby! I'm honored by your interest in my brown stained carpet (and if you haven't read it yet, it is the next post).

Visions of Hardwood Dancing In My Head

2006-08-10T23:56:00.000-04:00

About two weeks ago I made some wonderful chocolate gelato from Baking Sheet. My husband was enjoying it, and sharing it with LittleSister. Suddenly I noticed something by her feet. "Uhh, honey," I said. "Is that chocolate on the carpet?" And it was. Big spots of chocolate, ground into the carpet under one-year-old feet.

The next day I plopped the kids in front of the TV and started calling for floor bids. While I was at it I called for house painting bids, but that's a different issue.

The day after that BigSister tried to eat some bubble solution. Since she didn't like the taste, she then proceeded to start gagging herself. "Don't gag," I cried, even though she probably doesn't undertstand what gag means. "Here, take a sip of water and spit it out. I'll show you." She gagged up some soap solution on the kitchen floor. Thinking she was done, I cleaned it up and let her go in the living room. She then proceeded to vomit, while spinning around, like some kind of whirling sprinkler system of puke. It was peach YoBaby yogurt; she'd just finished a whole cup. It formed nice round concentric circles on the carpet.

Several people came to give bids on the floors. We have hardwood in the dining room; what I want is hardwood everywhere. No more carpet. Make it disappear. And while the price was a little more than I expected, the true shock is that we'll have to live essentially upstairs while the new floors are curing. I realize there are simpler ways to do it, but we want site-finished floors.

I took a day or two to think about it, and while I was thinking about it LittleSister had a diaper blowout that blew ... you guessed it ... onto the carpet.

Today I sent the deposit.

Tonight we came downstairs from bath, and I found the nastiest patch of brown I'd ever seen. It was about 8 inches in diameter, and there were what appeared to be turds. "Honey," I called. "I need some help with identification here." I was down on my knees and trying to sniff, yet not get to close. "I think it is poop." My husband came down and said "The dog must have thrown it up. She eats shit sometimes you know." So what I was looking at was regurgitated defacation. UUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHH.

Half a roll of paper towels later I cannot get new floors fast enough. A woman I know tried to talk me out of it today. "Hardwoods are loud," she said. "You can't sit down on the floor with the kids." Like I can sit down on the floor with the kids now? I don't even want to let them near this carpet!

Cultural Differences

2006-08-01T16:48:00.000-04:00

My mother-in-law's dog was shot yesterday. He's still alive, as far as I know, but the outcome is far from clear.

My mother-in-law is understandably upset. This dog is the one she kept when all the others went to other homes after her divorce. She trains him for agility. He's a good natured lab. She's been traveling around the country with him, spending nights in a pop-up camper.

She went to Canada, and left him with a friend in Idaho who lives on 10+ acres. It seems her friend didn't mention his presence to her neighbors, though she had been out walking him so she thought her neighbors had seen him. They had him off-leash, and he went running over to the neighbor's house to see what was going on. There were small children outside. The children were frightened; the dog was excited. They ran inside, and dad came out with a gun. There were two shots. One hit his head, but did not penetrate his skull. The other went through his hips.

My mother-in-law has pronounced the neighbor "psycho." Who knows, maybe he is. And I understand her anger and grief. But I grew up in the country, and even as a pro-gun-control type it is hard for me to assume his response is crazy. Over-the-top, but not unusual in that environment.

Urban people don't realize how common it is, and how frightening it is, to encounter strange animals in the country. When I was a kid we must have taken at least half-a-dozen dogs to the pound, and we took in more cats than that. All had been dumped in the country by owners who couldn't do the right thing and turn them into the SPCA themselves, and instead said "take them to the country, where they can fend for themselves." Being domesticated animals, the first place they went was the nearest house. Some of them were friendly. Some of them we kept. Some of them tried to bite us and were very very frightening. One in particular could not be caught by anyone, spent several days chasing us children, and appeared to be possibly rabid. In the end, I'm pretty sure my dad got out the 22 rifle and dispatched him. He didn't tell us that, but the dog disappeared one day.

We also had a dog that liked to escape and run with the pack. The local dogs would harass local livestock. One day our dog came home with a bullet wound in his side. I remember it clearly; it was quite a sight for a seven-year-old. But the general feeling was: if a dog runs with a pack and harasses livestock, he will get shot. There wasn't moral judgement. One day that dog didn't come home. We always figured somebody shot him.

My mother-in-law has always lived in the big city or in a small town. She's never lived in the country. In most cities, it is misdemeanor animal cruelty to shoot a dog. In the country, though, dogs can be scary. They can harass livestock. They can bite children. I wonder how long my mother-in-law's friend has lived in the country, as I'm assuming she came from a more urban area. Was she naive? Did she not realize how common a reaction this is to a strange dog? I think the neighbor was trigger-happy. He should have checked to see that the dog was wearing a collar; he should have verified it was dangerous before shooting. But the dog's host should have realized that people have stronger responses to strange dogs in the country. In my neighborhood now, a loose dog is a loose pet. When I grew up in the country, a loose dog was a dangerous stray. A loose dog on someone else's property may get shot, especially if someone thinks they are protecting children or other animals.

It is tragic for the dog. Think healing thoughts for him.

Update: Sadly, the dog died Friday night.

Another Stellar Parenting Moment

2006-07-10T23:55:00.000-04:00

Big Sister came up to me today yacking the way the cat does when she's had a dairy product. Clearly, something was about to be puked up. And what could I do but hold out my hands, thump her back, and wait for it? Meanwhile, my mind raced. She had a pencil in her hand. The tip was still on it, so I'm not about to see pencil lead. Did she stick the pencil down her throat? Is it something else? Is it stuck? She seems to be trying to dislodge something. Finally, it appears, with only a little spit, which is good because I really didn't think I could catch much puke in my hands. What I have caught is small and red. It is the pencil eraser.

When she asked to write with the pencil, I anticipated the pencil marks on the play table. I did not imagine eating the eraser. I guess I should have pictured that.

On a side note, did you know that most cats are lactose intolerant? I didn't know it until I had a cat. I try to clean up the food the kids drop on the floor quickly, both because of the lactose intolerance and the cat diabetes, but now that I've mentioned this the cat will probably binge on cheese and puke soon, like tomorrow.

Wash Wash Wash

2006-07-06T23:18:00.000-04:00

My husband and I were the last in both our families to have kids. Between us, we have nine nieces and nephews ranging from 3 to 11 years. So I thought I had a pretty good idea what to expect from parenting. I knew about the lack of sleep. I knew about the terrible twos. I knew about the diapers. I once had my nephew shoot poop out at an incredible velocity while I was changing him. I thought I'd seen, or at least heard, it all.

But nobody mentioned the laundry. I guess I should have made the connection. I'd heard that you should always bring a spare outfit for your child and for that matter, for yourself. I just didn't think about the fact that you'd then have to wash all those outfits. I didn't think about the mundane, day-after-day, thunk thunk thunk of the dryer running. I didn't think about always having to check for laundry, and that missing a day tossing in a load after breakfast would mean devoting a day to nothing but laundry.

My two-year-old stays relatively clean now, but the almost-one-year-old is just learning how to eat and some days it seems like we trash an outfit per meal. We had watermelon tonight. It was smeared everywhere, embedded in crevices I didn't know she had. Bibs are useless contraptions.

And it is summer, so we go to picnics and to the pool. This means towels. We play with water on the porch. This means another set of outfits. And a towel. We stomp in puddles when it rains. More clothes to wash.

On my personal list of "what would be effective birth control for teenagers" this is very high. The teenage me would not have wanted to do all this laundry. The adult me doesn't want to do all this laundry.

Your Car Is A Reflection Of ... Something

2006-07-06T00:03:00.000-04:00

We're driving to the pool, and I realize that the truck in front of of us has what appears to be a small deer doll impaled on the trailer hitch. The truck is a 4x4 pickup. Didn't trucks used to be 4x4s OR pickups? Anyway, it said 4x4 on it.

We get to the stoplight and the truck stops in front of me, and I see that the little deer is now moving its little hooves up in the air, as if to say "don't shoot" and it has a little red target on its chest. When the light changes, the little deer stops waving its arms.

I told my husband about it and he said "well, some people hate deer as much as you hate mice." I said "yes, but I don't have a mouse mounted on the back of my car." (Should I ???)

The "Don't Shoot" Deer Hitch Critter is frighteningly easy to find via Google, as is its friend the "Flopping Bass Hitch Critter" (for that always attractive "dead fish on your trailer hitch" look.) According to the write-up, "The Hitch Critter will keep your hitch ball and wiring harness clean while not in use for towing." So they aren't just decorative! They have a purpose too!

This is (among) the (many) reason(s) I love my husband

2006-07-03T10:23:00.000-04:00

He actually listens to my complaints and tries to respond to them. I told him I hated the way he'd act like childcare required all his energy, and that the remainder of the house would get messed up while he was "watching the kids."

So this morning I came down when he'd been "watching" Big Sister and found he'd cleaned up the kitchen and started the dishwasher.

It was very nice.

Meanwhile I am strangely drawn to this blog of True Wife Confessions. Hmm, some people have some serious communication issues. And yet, I can't stop reading.....

I Need A New Mood Ring

2006-06-28T14:09:00.000-04:00

The mood rings I've seen only tell me what my mood is. This is boring. I know what my mood is. I need a mood ring which produces more information, such as a pie chart which says:

Your mood is

33% hormones. Wait it out.
27% fatigue. Take a nap.
30% annoying people. Get away from them.
10% lack of chocolate. Have an M and M.

There may be additional core categories of mood drivers. I haven't thought of them all. But while I'm sure there is a huge market for this idea, I'm giving it away here on the internet. Please, someone, come up with this ring.

How To Clean Up From A Spaghetti Lunch In 25 Easy Steps

2006-06-26T14:23:00.000-04:00

START: Both children are in high chairs and are covered in spaghetti sauce and bits of spaghetti. Big Sister announces that she wants to sit on the potty.
Take Big Sister out of the high chair, trying to keep her hands and face off your clothes. March her to the bathroom.
Big Sister announces she wants to sit on the big potty. Put potty insert on the big potty, remove her diaper, sit her down. Offer her a book. She asks you to read the book. Read the book as fast as possible.
Little Sister, in the throes of separation anxiety, begins to howl at having been left. Return to Little Sister and attempt to remove ground spaghetti from her face and body. Remove her onesie carefully so the chunks of spaghetti remain attached and don't fall on the floor.
Return to Big Sister in the bathroom, and find that she is pulling a large portion of the toilet paper roll into the toilet. Take her off the toilet, which she promptly flushes. The toilet clogs.
Close the bathroom door and go after Big Sister, who is running bare bottomed through the house. Put a diaper on her and wipe spaghetti off her hands and face. Wipe Little Sister's hands and face again.
Tell Big Sister that you cannot read "Eat Your Peas" to her right now; she must wait for you to clean up.
Notice that the cat, who is diabetic and on a restricted diet, is eating spaghetti off the floor. Chase the cat off and get out Clorox Wipes to clean spaghetti off the floor.
While you are cleaning off the floor, Big Sister wanders in, drops "Eat Your Peas" on the floor and announces "I help clean-up." She grabs the Clorox Wipes and fishes one out. Wonder what she will inadvertently bleach. Decide not to care.
Finish getting spaghetti off the floor and work on getting it off the chairs. Notice Big Sister wiping her Little Tikes garden with Clorox Wipe. Take booster chair off dining room chair. Wonder if you should have bought a second high-chair rather than use a portable high-chair on the dining room chair.
Put the cat out as she is meowing loudly.
Remove base of dining room chair and get Shout Wipe to clean the fabric of it, as Big Sister takes a wipe to the body of the chair saying "I help clean."
Clean the dishes and load the dishwasher.
Notice Little Sister is crawling across the floor with a piece of foil which used to hold chicken. Realize your husband left the foil on the children't play table. Take away foil.
Clean counters.
Go upstairs to get a clean shirt for Big Sister, a clean outfit for Little Sister (who is still wearing only a diaper, and a plunger.
Change Little Sister and put on a new outfit. Change Big Sister's shirt.
Plunge toilet.
Go back and load more dishes. Notice Little Sister is trying to shred the carpet around an outlet which for unknown reasons is in the floor near the door. Move Little Sister.
Go back and make sure toilet is functioning.
Finish dishwasher loading and attempt to put in dish soap before Little Sister can crawl in.
Pick up Little Sister and take her with you as you return the plunger upstairs.
Return downstairs and finish wiping down counters.
Wipe floor again and return "Eat Your Peas" to the book area.
Done! Return call from your mother.

An Odd Little Quiz

2006-06-20T22:49:00.000-04:00

Your Political Profile:

Overall: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal

Social Issues: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Personal Responsibility: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Fiscal Issues: 100% Conservative, 0% Liberal

Ethics: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Defense and Crime: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal

How Liberal Or Conservative Are You?

Well, maybe not that odd, just very reflective of the polarization of our current politics. There was no middle ground. I've always known that I'm socially liberal and fiscally conservative, but I was confused by the fact that "ethics" could be a political position. So with a little trial and error I identified the "ethics" questions, which are:

The only social responsibility of a company should be to deliver a profit to its shareholders.

False
True

Everyone has a right to health care, even if they can't afford it

False
True

All authority, by its nature, should be questioned

False
True

Abortion should be...

Completely legal and available
Restricted, discouraged, or illegal

I can't believe that first question is "conservative" if you agree that a company's only obligation is profit. I know that is what G.W. Bush believes, but considering how fond the conservative American Family Association is of boycotting any company who markets to gays, I don't think profit is their only agenda item.

Now that second question probably is to some degree "ethical," but would conservatives truly say that if you don't have the money you don't deserve help when you are bleeding? Maybe I'm naive, but I think the core issue is more whether everyone should get government funded health care, not whether or not everyone should get health care at all.

I wasn't even sure how to answer the "question authority" question, because in my mind you should always be able to question authority, but that doesn't mean you always need to do so.

And then the abortion question. In point-of-fact, I do think abortion should be discouraged. But since the question made that equivalent to illegal, I went with option one.

So I'm 100% ethically liberal. I've just been reading up on Ann Coulter. In her world, apparently that's the same thing as having no ethics at all. I'm very proud.

This Is Why I Grocery Shop On Weekdays

2006-06-19T13:20:00.000-04:00

I remember when I was 16. I worked at McDonald's for four-and-a-half whole months. At the end of that time, I was convinced I had learned everything McDonald's had to teach me. I may have.

At McDonald's, there was a definite split between the weekday workers and the weekend workers. I admit it: we were a little snobbish towards the weekday workers. This was their career. We were headed for bigger and better things.

This weekend I was reminded of that attitude as I waited for a teenager with a name tag that said "Harris Teeter Employee since 2006" to ring up my groceries. I was trying to use a couple of coupons I got from Ziploc for complaining that their containers cracked after being in my freezer. (I rarely complain but I got $6 worth of coupons! I may complain more often!). Anyway, each coupon was for a free item up to $3. The cashier stared at them.

"How much were the items?" he said. (He'd just rung them up.)

"Excuse me?" I said.

"How much were the items? I neede to write it down," he said.

"Well, one was $2.99 and the other was, I don't know (here I looked at the receipt where it was hanging from the cash register) $4.29."

So he rings up one for $2.99 off and then sets the other aside.

"So you can't use this one because it was more than $3."

"Yes I can, you just take $3 off."

Then he calls for a manager, who says "take $3 off" and then says "why are you ringing up $4.29? Ring up $3."

I felt for the people behind me.

Now it could be that the daytime employees would have struggled with this coupon too. But the daytime employees are faster, and they are better at bagging the groceries. They bag like types of groceries with like, which makes unpacking easier. And they are friendly. Their attitude says "thanks for shopping here," not "I'm just trying to get gas money and you are asking me a hard question."

As a customer, I have to say I like the career employees better.

Scratch 'N Dent

2006-06-16T09:48:00.000-04:00

L. was wailing this morning and I couldn't figure out why, but now I see that she has a little bruise on the inside of her lip.

One of the hardest adjustments for me as a parent is accepting that I can't keep my kids from injuring themselves. Not only that, but that I sometimes the one who inadvertently causes the injury. I've managed to scratch them with my fingernail more than once as I'm picking them up for something.

The worst, of course, was the time that S. and I were playing ring-around-the-rosie. I'm not big on falling down myself, so I usually hold her arms and lower her gently to the floor for the "fall down." This time I lost my grip on one arm, and wound up supporting her with the other. She started to cry and didn't stop. As it turned out I'd given her something called a "nursemaid's elbow," which a doctor can make disappear fast. I'm pretty careful not to lift her by one arm these days.

But often in the bath I find that they have acquired some new bruise or dent that I didn't see happen. My sister, a pediatrician, reassures me about this. She says it is the "one goose egg a day" age. And I guess it is a sign that I have active children.

I'm Not Jewish...

2006-06-14T19:07:00.000-04:00

... but from the point-of-view of the anti-Semites among us, my husband and children are. (From the point of view of the rabbi, they probably aren't). Sometimes I find it scary. I see them as the little girl in the red coat in Schindler's List, and the thought brings me physical pain. I am unused to how to think about their origins in this world where there is so much blind hate.

I'm not sure what to say to people who have been Jewish their whole lives, either. Mostly, I defer to them. This is a new area for me. But lately I have been overwhelmed by the level of paranoia and anger that seems to be required. I don't think I can sustain it.

First, I got this chain letter from a woman in my playgroup:

Important, please read!!

Several weeks ago, Germany announced its decision to stop all arms sales to Israel . Since then, other countries have followed suit.

In response, Israel has canceled its annual multimillion dollar contract for its nationwide DAN buses which were manufactured in Germany , and is looking at other bus suppliers in the US , and Japan.

The Europeans and their Muslim allies should understand that boycotts works both ways. When we said NEVER AGAIN, we meant it. Europe is stuck in the mentality of 1933 and conditioned to thinking of Jews as
defenseless entities. The reality is very different. As long as Europe adheres to and supports its primitive Middle Ages death cult, European products must be off limits.

We continue to call for a complete boycott of travel and products from the following countries France, Belgium, Spain, Germany, Sweden, Switzerland, Norway, Denmark, Holland, and China, due to their support, sponsorship, and/or participation in global Islamic terror. The voting record of the above countries at the UN openly endorses Muslim terror.

Remember, every time you buy a bottle of Evian, a Carlsberg product, a Spanish melon, a Godiva chocolate, a Dior lipstick, a Gucci bag, or a German kitchen appliance, you are financing the next Muslim mass murderer.

The European Union gives over $10 million per month to the Palestinian Authority, knowing full well that the money is funneled to buy, import, and train Muslim terrorists and their weapons of mass murder.

We strongly encourage everyone to buy American and Israeli products instead. Buy Estee Lauder or Ahava instead of Chanel, Dior, and YSL. Tell the salespeople why. Educate the public when you shop.

Europe is underwriting the Arab war to exterminate the Jewish state. We cannot sit idly by while this happens. Make your voice heard and let them feel the sting in their pocketbooks. Let the Europeans know that supporting terror does not pay.

Please send this to at least 10 like minded people

Where to start with this?

The events referenced happened in 2002, when Germany halted on arms deal in response to Israel's action in the West Bank. The article I read described Germany as "long Israel's biggest supporter in Europe."
Since then, several of the countries mentioned have seen terrorist actions, most notably Spain. One could hardly accuse them of supporting Islamic terrorism after the bombings there.
In any case, companies are publicly held and in this age of globalization it is very hard to characterize them as coming from any one company.
Even if the company was entirely based in one country, unless the company is actually government owned then boycotting the company does nothing to affect the government.
At least one of the brands here, Godiva, is actually owned by an American company, Campbell Soup, which is based in New Jersey. There are probably more but I didn' t have time to research it.
The Palestinian Authority has historically received money from Israel, the U.S. , the European Union, and other sources. In April the European Union cut off all funding to the Palestinian Authority until the Hamas government recognizes Israel's right to exist, though they are debating whether to fund health care workers there.

Then I just foolishly got myself embroiled in a discussion on Blogging Baby. The original poster described some teenage boys' use of quotes from Hitler in the yearbook, and said she found the quotes themselves "meaningful." The quotes themselves could easily have been interpreted as an indictment of the current administration, as one said "Strength lies not in defense, but in attack" (perhaps a reference to the U.S. "pre-emptive" attack of Iraq) and the other said
"The great masses of people ... will more easily fall victims to a big lie than to a small one." (perhaps thinking the Weapons of Mass Destruction were a big lie.). Since the boys didn't give any context clues, using Hitler was a bad idea.

But the commenters on the post came down hard on the original poster, accusing her of insensitivity and worse. "When you are lucky enough to come from a family or people or religion or culture that has not been slaughtered, raped, pillaged or hunted down - I then I guess you can look at this as genius or 'meaningful'," said one poster. How's that for strong language? Exactly how that poster knew the original poster's ethnicity is beyond me. In fact, I think her assumption was wrong, but it is neither here nor there, unless you actually think there should be some kind of litmus test for commenting on anything to do with Shoah or Hitler or even Germany.

So I posted and tried to explain the original poster's thought, but that just got me attacked too. One of the people had lost many family members, and her pain and anger were understandable. Yet I'm sure the original poster did not intend to come across as a Hitler apologist.

I am pained. Is a constant level of vigilance and anger required? Can it just be vigilance, and careful thought, without assuming the worst motives in everyone?

So Anyway

2006-06-14T16:37:00.000-04:00

I was just reading a post on Blogging Baby about birth control, and it reminded me of a story.

I was in Target and working my list. I had one kid strapped to me in the Bjorn, and the other one strapped in the cart which was loaded down with diapers and sippy cups. I was about two months postpartum. We were standing next to the kid paraphernalia and a nice Target man asked if he could help me.

"Only if you can tell me what I wrote on my list," I said, staring at in confusion.

So he looked at my list. We both looked at it. What did it say? Cotton? There was a C, and some tall letter in the middle and some squiggling in between. Why couldn't I write more clearly?

Then, suddenly, I knew what it said.

It said "Condoms."

"OH!" I said. "I got it. OK. Thanks for your help." And I scurried off without making eye-contact, my usually pale skin a new very deep shade of red.

Family Support

2006-06-13T13:54:00.000-04:00

So my mother calls this afternoon and we talk about random topics, like the kids' colds and Saturday's Race For The Cure. Then she says "oh, don't quote me on this but...."

"Your brother says you spend too much time on the computer."

Me: "Well, I surf a lot when I'm nursing."

Mama: "Yes, he said that, but he said you need to be making money."

Me: "What makes him think we need money?"

Mama: "Well not make money, but do something productive. So I have some accounts you could help me with."

This is a line my mother tries at least once a month. She keeps all her accounts on paper, and periodically she says she needs someone to help. The thing is, I've done it. I put everything in both Excel and Quicken at one time. She never updated it. And let's not even get into the fact that she doesn't pay, which would be fine except that she promises to pay. But I don't even mention these things.

Me: "Well, I really only have one hand free, so I really can only do things which take one hand. Which is why I surf."

Mama: "Oh. OK."

I think she could tell I was annoyed.

But my real question is, why is my brother dogging me to my mother?

Updated: I asked my brother what I'd done to him and he said "Plenty. Why?" I said "What did you do that made Mama call me and say she heard I was on the computer all the time and I could do her accounts?" He said "Nothing. If I said anything, it was that you should help me with my work" (he's a web designer). Then he said "Good luck getting paid." Clearly we all have this problem with Mama.

Atkins Is Not For Me

2006-06-12T17:07:00.000-04:00

My sister and I went to the annual sale at A Southern Season today. We aren't really people who shop for fun, especially me, but we do love us a good gourmet food store. We both got excited about the silicon pastry brush on sale for $5.99 (regularly $15.99). Have you seen these things? So cool, especially if you like working with filo pastry like I do.

They also had cheese on sale, so I bought some brie and a nice baguette, and lunch was baguette, brie, and a crisp organic Granny Smith apple. I love the crusty bread and cream combination, and the tartness of the apple. I remember when meals like that were the height of exotic for me; I associated them with some of my first trips to England where brie and bread were easily obtained, and with my just-after-college move to D.C. where a deli was strategically positioned close to our nearest metro station. For dinner we'd get brie, bread, and some of their wonderful marinated mushrooms. I also think of a scene in one of my favorite movies, Diva, where a character slowly, sensuously, smears butter across the full length of a baguette and discusses "zen and the art of buttering bread." When I was travelling Europe after graduate school I met some other backpackers and we found we were all carrying long loaves of bread and containers of butter. We took a picture. We haven't seen each other since, but I still have the picture.

Stormy Night

2006-06-11T23:08:00.000-04:00

I talked to my relative tonight and she sounds so much better. I am very relieved. We are back to talking about kids and relatives.

So though it is raining, things do not seem dark. Rain does bring up memories for me.

When I was single I owned a house in scenic St. Paul, Minnesota. St. Paul didn't get as many tornadoes as the rest of Minnesota, but it did get these incredible storms with straight-line winds, and they did just as much damage.

When I bought my house I walked through it and I looked out the windows and tried to imagine myself there and looking out the windows every day. The front bedroom was largest, and it looked out at a huge tree. I was never sure of the type, but I think it was some kind of beech. I looked at that tree and tried to imagine myself looking at it every day. It stood just to the left of my view looking out, at the corner of the porch.

One Friday night I had gone to my aunt's in Minneapolis as another aunt was visiting. I drove home late for a family night; it must have been at least 10:30. It wasn't raining much as I drove, but there were bits of leaf and branches on the road. It felt like the calm between storms, and for some reason I thought "I bet that tree comes down tonight." I don't know why I thought it.

I got home and it started to rain and blow again. I went on with my evening routine and went to the bathroom at the back of the house to take my contact lenses out. As I was taking them out it became very windy, and there was suddenly a huge crackling sound. I stood at the door of the bathroom in panicked indecision. Should I try to go downstairs? Would that be more dangerous? The noise stopped, and it started to thunder, and I thought "how foolish, it was just the storm starting up again." I went downstairs and everything seemed normal. I went to the window and pulled the curtain aside.

There, like some kind of Little Shop of Horrors laughing plant, was the tree trunk, horizontal and less than a foot from my window.

I don't remember the exact sequence of what I did next, but I know I called my aunt and uncle and they came to look too. I remember that I went up to my bedroom and found there were small pieces of drywall all over my bed, but no huge holes in my wall. I remember neighbors I didn't know calling out to ask if I was all right.

We concluded there was nothing we could do that night and my aunt and uncle went home and came back the next day.

The tree had fallen across my front porch and landed resting on my neighbor's house. For a 40-foot-tree fall it was actually probably the least damage it could have done. It took out my porch, but the structural damage to the house was pretty minimal.

The rest is technical details: insurance claims (did you know that trees are "no fault" in Minnesota? So I didn't have to pay for the damage to my neighbor's house even though it was my tree), bids to get the tree removed, my wonderful friend who helped me dismantle the porch so it wouldn't pull on the house anymore, getting the stump ground (insurance didn't cover this), getting the porch re-built, having a porch-warming party.

In the week before it happened, my sister-in-law had a daughter. The week after it happened my sister had a son. It was almost 8 years ago. It was a very eventful time. Now it just gives me a healthy respect for storms.

Today Feels Dark and Looming

2006-06-06T14:49:00.000-04:00

It isn't actually dark; right now it is sunny and the air is crisp. I went outside to get the mail and it looks like a nice day though the weather forecast is mixed.

But both my kids have colds so we're home and watching too much TV, and everyone I've talked to today is having Major Problems.

First, I talked to a relative to whom I'm very close, a fellow mommy of a 2 1/2 year old. She gets a propensity for depression from both sides, and it is clear from her voice that she is Not Doing Well. Her current combination of medications is not doing the job. She works a part-time gig, and spends most of her time taking care of her child, and she's to the point that she'd like to check herself in for a serious psychiatric work-up. Yet she doesn't know what she'd do with the work or the kids. Today she called in sick and her husband came home. I've talked to her twice today, and I feel so uncertain how to help. Even our usual topics of celebrity gossip and snarking on other relatives aren't perking her up, so I know she's in a very low place. I offered to take her child, but she is some distance away and there is the practical matter of how to get the child here.

Then I talked to the person who inspired my recent post on divorce. We didn't talk about her marital difficulties, but there was an undercurrent of tension in her voice and everything she said. I told her I'd heard she was having difficulties, and I'd do anything I could. I told her cute stories about the kids. But everything about her voice said "I am worn very very thin."

As I've been typing this, the sky has started to cloud over and I hear thunder. Which does at least suit the climate more to my mood. I wish so much that I could help these people. It is so hard to be in a dark place; I've been there myself.

Close The Door

2006-06-05T08:50:00.000-04:00

S. has developed an obsession with shutting doors. The minute she is strapped into her car seat she starts announcing "close the door Mommy. Close the door" with increasing volume until the door is closed. If she wakes up in the night, she insists we close the door when we leave her room. When she wakes up in the morning she shuts the door to her room as she leaves, and she then enters our room and shuts the door behind her.

I have to admit I think this is a good thing.

I like to shut doors, especially cabinet doors. I think things look cleaner when doors are shut. I'm not even that big on opening windows. But I grew up with parents who weren't advocates of shutting doors. I remember repeatedly cracking my head on overhead cabinets which had been left open in our first house. Then my parents built a house, and they decided that since "no one" closes cabinet doors we should just have no cabinet doors. This didn't mean that they kept things neatly, though, so the cabinets just looked grubby.

Now I've married a man who also doesn't seem to close doors. Last week I woke up to a neighbor bringing our dog back, because my husband had taken the trash barrel out without shutting the gate. Last night I asked him to put something in the guest room, and he put it there, but left the door open and the light on (I try to keep our guest room shut and cat free). He never closes cabinet doors.

So if S. wants all doors shut, I support that. It is so much better than the alternative.

Absence Makes The Toddler Grow Grouchier

2006-05-29T12:02:00.000-04:00

We're on Day 5 of my husband's long (9-12 hour) days every day. That's right, no holiday weekend for us. He gets up and goes to work every morning at the same time, and on one day (Sunday) came home at the usual time. The rest of the time he's been working well into the evening. He has a big project at work and we knew this was coming, but there is no question that it is hard.

It is definitely hardest on S., though. In fact, for this post, let's just call her "Surly." Surly has a lot of complaints lately, but her biggest one is "Whhhheeerree'ssss Daaaadddddddddyyyyy!" Typing does not do justice to her plantive tone. I told my husband he really needed to make it back for bedtime, because I think his absence is part of what is upsetting her.

Surly spent today irate about going outside, irate about coming inside, irate about not wanting a snack, and irate about wanting a snack. I let her play watercolors; she painted herself and complained when I washed them off her face and arms. I let her have a bowl of spaghetti sauce for snack (in lieu of the requested "catsup") and she painted herself again and complained when I washed that off. She didn't like it when she found a duck from the tub in her play area and wanted me to immediately return it the tub.

I'm sure some of this is being 2 1/2, but it is definitely more than usual.

Nothing makes you appreciate a spouse like his absence.

Cat Discipline

2006-05-25T16:50:00.000-04:00

Almost 10 years ago, as my brother was about to have his first child, I decided to go to the pound and get mine. My sister had a one-year-old. I am the oldest child and I knew it was going to be quite some time before I had any human children of my own. So I went to the humane society and inspected all the cats and asked if they were mine.

One cat talked quite a lot, and made a strong argument that she was mine. No one had named her. She was called "Little Kitty." She was about a year old, and the reason listed for turning her in was "new baby." I took her home and called her Diva. For many years, it was just me and her.

I traveled a lot with my old job, and Diva had her little ways of expressing her dismay when I was gone too long. She'd sometimes take a nip at me. It was clearly an expression of displeasure and discipline, and was not intended to hurt. Once after I'd been gone quite a while, she actually leapt up as I was getting ready to shower and nipped my bare backside. That made me laugh, though I know her intention was not to make me laugh.

Diva always hated kids, and hid when they came into the house, so I was surprised when she adjusted well to the babies. The dog was actually more traumatized by the baby. Diva was more upset when she had to move in with the dog when I got married. She has always been opportunistic about asking for affection, so she'd just wait for us to put down the baby and then jump up.

When S. was young, Diva stayed well away from her and S. quickly learned to pet the cat gently. But now we have a new problem. Diva does not differentiate between L. and S. and will toss herself down in front of either of them for some petting. S. pets gently. L. delightedly grabs a fist full of fur. And Diva is surprisingly tolerant.

But L. did a little too much hand waving in front of Diva one morning last week just as Diva was due to be fed, and Diva went for the disciplinary nip. At first I thought she hadn't broken skin, but on diaper change I found the merest scratch. As a precaution I called my sister, a pediatrician who said "antibiotics." So I called my pediatrician, who also said "antibiotics." Did you know that cats have bad mean bacteria in their mouths? Everyone I've asked has said "oh yes," so I feel like the only one who didn't know this. I can now report that giving a 10-month-old antibiotics is actually worse than giving medicine to a cat. Thank goodness that week is over.

I'm also curious: why did I not learn about the mean bacteria years ago when my cat bit me on the a$$? No one mentioned antibiotics then. Too busy laughing to think about bacteria, were you?

These Are Not The Same Baby

2006-05-25T15:59:00.000-04:00

My babies at 10 and 11 weeks, respectively.

When L. was born we were shocked at how much she looked like S. They even had the same birthmark over their right eye; a red "stork-bite." They were close in weight, 8 lbs. 9 oz. vs. 8 lbs. 2 oz. explainable by the fact that S. was 10 days past term and L. was a scheduled c-section at 40 weeks. "We had twins 19 months apart," I said.

Because they looked alike, I think I had an irrational expectation that they would act alike. My sister and I are 14 1/2 months apart and we don't act alike, but we don't look alike either.

And maybe it is the "10 month" age, but lately it is very very noticeable that these babies are not the same. S. was a little more demanding as an infant, and L. was a little more mellow, but their positions have reversed. L., I've learned, is a very determined little girl. Techniques that worked flawlessly with S., like distracting her from the carbon monoxide detector with a toy, are futile with L. And when L. doesn't get what she wants, she gets mad. She cries. She gets frustrated. She stays angry.

There are little things. S., from the moment she could roll, rolled back and forth in the bed all night (bringing co-sleeping to an end for us at 15 months). We made a small investment in bed rails with S. We've never used them with L. She stays in one spot unless she's actually looking to nurse. S. also had major feeding problems and went to eating therapy to learn to eat solids. With L. I'm learning what it was we were trying to achieve with S., as she's a poster-child for "age appropriate" eating behavior. The hidden upside of S.'s eating issues was that she almost never put foreign objects in her mouth. L. never stops putting random objects in her mouth.

S. liked to roll around and crawl just for the sheer joy of it. If L. is on the move, she is going to investigate something and you better check what it is.

They still look a lot alike. They both are fascinated by books. They both adore Daddy. They want to be together, and they don't want to be together. They both want what the other one has.

I'm trying to resist the impulse to label them too much. I don't want to say one is the "smart one" or the "nurturing one" or the "one who is good at music" or any of those other categorizations my own mother was a little too fond of. But it is fascinating to see their differences. I look forward to seeing what is next.

This Has To Be Said

2006-05-22T16:27:00.000-04:00

Thinking about divorce? Have older children? Grown children?

Here is something you must know:

Your child will never be old enough to listen to you vent about your spouse.

Tolstoy said that happy families are all the same, and that unhappy families are all different. I'm paraphrasing. But after personal experience and lots of observation, I've decided that there are a lot of similarities between divorcing families, or at least between divorcing families with adult children.

A quick Google search will find you evidence that divorce is on the rise for older couples, and it will find you evidence that it isn't. But my personal experience is with a lot of friends and relatives who have survived their parents' divorce as adults. When I was a kid I knew one kid with divorced parents; now it seems like every time I catch up with an old friend one of the first things she says is "well, my parents got divorced." My own parents spent most of my 20s in a prolonged vicious emotional divorce battle. My in-laws divorced two years ago after almost 40 years of marriage. My college apartment mate's parents were divorcing our senior year and I'd come home to find her dad morosely smoking in our living room every day for weeks. Another relative is now going through parental marital difficulties. I could go on.

For the adult children of the marriage, I've noticed certain common threads.

We've all gone through a process of re-writing our memories of childhood and trying to determine if what we remember was actually what was going on. The process is sad and poignant.
We've all questioned our own relationships (if we're in one) or our ability to have a relationship. Our parents were our first model of how to have a relationship. I remember asking both my parents how they met and how they knew it was love. Now it seems it wasn't; how does that affect my basis for evaluating relationships?
We've all questioned our own existence. Many of us were the "reason" our parents got married in the 60s and 70s. Were we actually the source of the trouble? Even if we're in our 30s and know this is an irrational thought, the thought is still there.
We've all been asked to be our parents' support people emotionally. Many of us have also been asked to be our parents' advisors on finances and/or financial settlement decisions.
Everything about the divorce takes a lot of mental energy to even discuss casually, and it can be very challenging since we have full lives with jobs and children and can't always afford the time to process our parents' divorce. We particularly can't process it on their timeline.

I've read that in a "healthy" divorce with younger children the children should be assured that they are still loved and valued by both parents and that life will go on, just with both parents in separate houses. I'm sure that doesn't happen a lot, but with adult children it happens even less. Instead, we are asked to play a role and take a side. If we don't want to discuss it we're accused of disloyalty or of being emotionally closed off. We fantasize about being under 18, and how much easier this would have been then.

If you are a person with adult children going through a divorce, could I ask that you do a few things?

Don't question your childrens' love for you. Your children love you, even if they don't want to discuss this.
Remember you are still their parent. They want to make you happy. If you make outrageous demands of them, they will try to do them. It doesn't mean the demand wasn't outrageous. It is very hard for them to say no to you. Don't abuse that.
Don't look to your children for validation of your decision. Even if it is the best decision for you, it will always be a little heartbreaking for them.
As your child goes through the process of re-writing their history, don't make it be the same as their history. I once read a great book about the Tokyo subway gassings called Underground. People who were at the same scene told different stories and both stories were true to them. Let your child figure out what is true to him or her; it doesn't have to match what is true for you. Neither one of you has exact photographic memory of things that happened 20 years ago.
Reassure your child that his or her childhood was still an important and valued time in your life.
Don't ask your children for financial advice. Even if they have MBAs or are CPAs or just have ability with numbers, this isn't something they want to take on. The emotional strain and the conflict of interest is too large.
If there is another person involved, don't assume that their reaction has anything to do with that person. No, they aren't happy about the other person, but they aren't naive enough to think that that is the whole issue. They do, however, have an issue with your constant discussion of the other person.
Ask your child about his or her life. Does every discussion have to be about your life?

OK, I'm asking more than one or two things. But this is a very sad time for your children, even if they are adults. Their family as they knew it is over. Every holiday from now on feels like a test. Something has broken and they feel like it is their fault and they don't know how to fix it.

They love you. They want you to be happy.

Family Meeting

2006-05-16T23:54:00.000-04:00

This was the idea: Have a weekly family meeting. When your kids have friction or complaints, write the issue down and save it for discussion at the family meeting.

It sounds so civilized, doesn't it?

"That could work," thought my sister, when she heard the idea. So she started a list. She's been reading it to me as it grows, and I keep saying "you have to type it in and send it to me." But she hasn't, so today when babysitting my niece (10) and nephew (7) I copied the list down for myself. Here, without further ado, is the agenda for my sister's family meeting.

Game is stupid
When I go with John to do do something he leaves and doesn't wait for me
John says "shut up" too much
No waffles Monday morning
Catherine reads my books
Squirrels [this is a reference to their problem with squirrels eating the birdseed]
John burps too much
John is ANNOYING [annoying is underlined three times]
John won't let me talk on the phone
No more chores
John disagrees too much and looks for ways to fight with me
John called me a baby and Mrs. Writer
Catherine tells too much
John won't let me have hacky sack
Catherine gets the music she wants
John won't let me watch what I like
John farts on me

Strangely, my sister has not yet scheduled the family meeting.

85 Things About Me

2006-05-15T00:01:00.000-04:00

I have two daughters. I feel very lucky to have them.
My OB didn't tell me to stop having children, but after two postpartum hemorrhages she did say "it would be unusual for your uterus to rupture in that location." We took the hint.
I am the oldest child.
I have one sister and one brother. Their children are considerably older than mine.
When I was single, I loved being an aunt.
I still love being an aunt.
My siblings thought I'd never have kids.
My sister once bought me a book on single motherhood for my birthday.
I grew up in the middle of the woods. We had 30 acres.
Originally we had 52 acres, but my parents sold 22 to a reservoir project as they were required to do through eminent domain.
We had an orchard, a huge garden, and for a couple of years we had goats.
My sister and brother and I loved the goats. One goat would only tolerate my dad milking her, so he had to do it twice a day every day and he didn't love the goats as much.
We still miss the goats.
Whenever my mother didn't know what to do with us she would make us weed the strawberries.
I'm just now starting to like strawberries again.
I still don't eat some of the foods we grew too much of in the garden, particularly squash and tomatoes.
But I think that may be a texture thing; I'm picky about food textures. I don't eat bananas either.
I will bake bananas or zuchinni squash into bread though, and I'll eat cooked tomatoes.
Cooking is a form of relaxation for me.
However, I'm not an expert on it.
I live about 15 miles from where I grew up.
I moved away twice.
I moved to Arlington, VA, for two years when I graduated from college.
I moved to London in 1992.
I did an M.Sc. in Operational Research at the London School of Economics.
I have an M.B.A. too. I don't know why. I'm not really an M.B.A. type. It was an evening program and it just seemed like an interesting class at the time.
In 1993 I moved to Minnesota.
I was there 9 1/2 years.
I worked in the airline industry.
When I started in the airline industry I loved it.
I traveled many places, but most of all I traveled to get to know all of my extended family, who lived everywhere from Singapore to California to Minnesota to the U.A.E.
I traveled a lot for work, especially to Asia.
I went to Japan more than 20 times.
I found my work intellectually interesting, but I don't think I was very good at corporate politics.
When I left the airline industry I was very stressed out.
I had a lot of physical symptoms of stress. They are almost all gone now.
Sometimes I have bad dreams about having to return to work. They are like dreams I have about still having one more high school exam to take.
When I left work I had no plan, except to move to Boise and marry my long-distance boyfriend.
I had been commuting to Boise almost every weekend for a year.
I told people I planned to do some writing.
I wish I hadn't said that.
I don't know why I thought I had to say anything.
I haven't done a whole lot of writing.
I am constantly amazed by the amount of time two children take.
Oh, and two animals too.
I have had my cat for almost 10 years.
Last year she was diagnosed as a diabetic. We give her insulin twice a day.
I married into having a dog.
Our dog is an Australian Shepherd. She is 6 but she thinks she is a puppy.
The cat-dog household merger took place before I moved in with my husband.
Co-workers told me that they suspected I was leaving when the cat moved.
I moved to Boise for my husband, but I'm glad I didn't have to stay there long.
I didn't like the desert much.
I missed trees.
And Democrats.
My husband was kind enough to hunt down a job in North Carolina. It was sheer luck, really, since companies in his industry are only in a few locations.
We moved back just a few weeks before my oldest daughter was born.
I feel very lucky to have my husband.
Sometimes I worry about whether I am appreciative enough.
I can be kind of picky.
I was married once before in my early 20s, but it didn't last a year and I think my record has been expunged.
I once went for three years without dating at all.
It took me a long time to learn to tell people (men) what I want.
I'm still learning. Just yesterday I was grouchy for my husband for not somehow having intuited my planned schedule for the morning.
I wish I was as understanding of human foibles as my husband is.
My husband and I both like to read trashy gossip magazines.
But my cousin gave us Star and we find it a little too trashy. What is up with the long stories which end "and their rep denied the story"?
I used to bike a lot.
I once biked from Minneapolis to Chicago in an AIDS fundraiser.
I was not ever athletic, so it was a big personal achievement.
I miss biking, but NC is not very bike friendly and the kids are still too little for a trailer.
My husband and I walk a lot now. We are big fans of putting the kids in Kelty backpacks.
I like to sew, but I have a hard time doing it since the kids try to grab the needle.
I like to make costumes. I made my daughter a tiger, my niece two clown costumes, and my nephew a cow costume.
In ninth grade I was president of the Home Ec club.
I never took Home Ec. The teacher who ran the club had been my science teacher, and I liked her.
I'm not really that domestic, except for the cooking and the sewing. I'm very bad at cleaning.
I'm also not very good at decorating.
I used to read every night before I went to sleep.
I don't do that so much now that I have kids, but I still read a lot.
I surf the internet while I nurse.
I keep hoping my next career move will become clear to me at some point.
I'm not very good at doing things by halves. When I had a career, I was all career. Now it seems I am all mom.
I worry about how I will balance things when I start trying to find a new career.
I've stayed up waaaay too late making this list.

This Was Fun

2006-05-12T23:43:00.000-04:00

create your own visited country map

I have visited 10% of the countries on earth.
I miss travel. Have I mentioned that?

How Do Bloggers Do It?

2006-05-11T13:30:00.000-04:00

I thought if I created this space I'd write more. I created the space, and I have a lot of ideas, but the time just has not appeared. In fact, I have a lot of things I'm not getting done. My current list of junk I've been meaning to do for more than a month includes:

Getting estimates on getting the house painted and the deck stained.
Finishing my sewing project, which is to create a little book for S. to practice zippers/buttons/snaps/etc.
Answering my backlog of e-mail, which is embedded among the 1256 random items in my inbox.
Figuring out what to get my mother and mother-in-law for Mother's Day (gotta get on that one).
Cleaning my closet, which has been in disrepair since I had a fit of "I can't find anything" and threw a bunch of things on the floor.
Getting my hair cut and my eyebrows waxed. Since it has been more than a month since I first started thinking "I need to do this" I really need to do this.
Getting our car serviced, which I swear I'm going to do every time I ride in the passenger seat and find the seatbelt won't release just as I'm trying to lean back to a screaming kid.

I know there is more. This week's add is "getting the lawnmower repaired" because after our lawn grew beautifully for a few spring weeks and was overdue for a cutting my husband said "oh, I forgot. The lawnmower broke at the end of last season. I used the neighbor's."

On the plus side, I did get the pantry cleaned. I was inspired by the post office collection of food items this Saturday. I identified a few items for them, and a lot of out-of-date food for the trash can.

But you could say I have a few other things going on. The process of writing this post has been interrupted by:

L. screaming with teething pain, as she seems to be getting at least three teeth at once
S. yelling "draw a kangaroo Mommy. Draw a kangaroo" because she wants me to help color the kangaroo picture in her Curious George coloring book.
Giving L. Tylenol.
S. yelling "where is the red crayon? where is the red crayon" while I show her every red crayon in the crayon box. Finally she said "there it is" and plucked a wraperless red crayon from the floor.
My sister calling to tell me how much she is enjoying watching squirrels go flying from her new spinning squirrel-proof bird feeder.
Trying to call my brother to find out if he has created our Race for the Cure team yet.
Nursing L.
Searching Amazon for squirrel spinner to try to find the product my sister described (no luck, or else there would be a link).
Checking to see what L. is doing and finding she is chewing on a shoe.
Checking S. and finding she has emptied the entire crayon box and is systematically throwing crayons at the chairs.

I don't know why I don't have more time to blog.

Yummy Yummy

2006-05-05T22:31:00.000-04:00

My mother-in-law is visiting. Usually her visits stress my husband more than me; she doesn't have that "mom" effect on me.

But this visit is already causing me a little stress, and I know what it is. It is her diet. She brought all her own food. Well, not all her own food. I also purchased three- quarters of the Harris-Teeter fruit section for her, as well as Splenda and chocolate sugarless pudding mix. She eats what looks like pablum mixed with fruit for every meal.

I like to cook for my guests. I like to cook, and I like to try to give my guests something they'll enjoy. So being unable to cook makes me feel awkward and unsure how to be a hostess.

I also treat my kitchen as my personal turf. My husband doesn't cook much but he does know where everything is and only enters to prepare kid meals. I am never keen on "here let me help" type guests because I have my own efficient methods and another person in the kitchen interrupts my groove.

But she won't get out of my kitchen. She is always underfoot, chopping up fruit or mixing pablum or cleaning a random dish. I can't prepare food in my usual sequence, which slows me down and ruins the zen-like meditative quality that cooking has for me. It is my stress release, and my stress is now not released.

She also keeps grazing, picking bits of fruit of the kids trays or sticking her fingers in the tacos I prepared for me and my husband.

The thing is, she's lost a lot of weight on the diet and she looks good. There isn't any way I can say "your diet freaks me out, eat a normal meal, and could you get out of my kitchen? Thanks."

So I'm saying it here.

Today Is My Anniversary

2006-05-03T10:31:00.000-04:00

I met my husband almost six years ago at a picnic for Single Volunteers of the Twin Cities. He sat down from me and smiled at me almost constantly, then followed me around as I helped pick up trash and asked for my phone number. He also offered to teach me to swing dance, and I like to tease him that I still haven't really learned. (We do go swing dancing, but I lack my husband's natural rhythm).

It took us a while to realize we wanted to spend our lives together, and the first time we dated it lasted only a few months. Then we stayed friends, and regularly updated each other on our dating. We agreed that internet dating was a horror. He moved to Boise for work; I stayed in the Twin Cities. He called and told me there was no culture in Boise; I said "come visit."

So he came to visit and we had a wonderful time. We went to the theater and to a jazz club. I started to commute to see him in Boise. Since I worked for an airline I could do this. Each time I left it seemed harder and harder to go. Work was stressful and didn't bring me a lot of joy.

I moved to Boise. We got married in North Carolina at a wonderful goat farm / bed & breakfast. We had a swing band and wonderful caterers. We spent the day with family and friends and had our nieces and nephews walk us down the aisle. A goat apparently dropped in just before the ceremony, but we didn't see that. It was a perfect day.

We wanted children and I was 37 1/2, so we thought "let's try, it will take six months to actually conceive." It didn't.

A friend of mine said "when you have kids you really find out what your relationship is." Having kids has made me realize how truly lucky I am to have found such a wonderful man. We have to put a lot of work in to communicating and letting each other know what to expect. Some days we do better than others. But we have such trust in each other; trust I didn't know you could have with another person.

I wish I had the words to say how I feel. I just know it is much more than I felt three years ago, and it is so nice to have a relationship that grows and evolves. Happy anniversary honey. I'd marry you again in a heartbeat.

Random Items

2006-05-03T10:14:00.000-04:00

On Friday we went strawberry picking with our playgroup. Strawberry picking actually goes really fast, even with two kids in tow, so we went on to the playground. All the kids started climbing on a picnic table, sat around it, and "chatted" like the adults. Suddenly I heard another mom say "no that's too hard" as a kid grabbed S. in a bear hug. The next thing I know she'd face planted on the concrete below the table. Since it was concrete it frightened me, but she recovered pretty fast and just had a big bruise on her forehead. When I told my mom about it she said "yes, that's parenthood. Long stretches of the same old thing interrupted by moments of total panic."

In a frenzy of domesticity, I made strawberry ice cream, strawberry sorbet, strawberry freezer jam, and chocolate dipped strawberries.

We caught a mouse the day we set a Havahart trap. Was it the only mouse? Signs say no. Fortunately the signs are in the garage, not the house. Another trap has been set. And for the record: the Tomcat Live Catch trap doesn't work. For reasons that escape me they say not to bait it. In the end we set two Havahart traps, baiting one with cheese and one with peanut butter. We had a classic mouse who preferred cheese.

Now My Husband Hates Mice Too

2006-04-27T21:37:00.000-04:00

I bought a humane trap at Lowes last weekend, but so far the mouse has avoided it. The better performing Havahart trap is in the mail via the wonderful world of internet shopping. And for a few days, we even thought that maybe the mouse left or one of our animals caught it (ha). ("Arent' cats and dogs supposed to be predatory animals?" said my husband. "Not ours," I said. "Ours are housepets.")

Last night we cleaned the kitchen and settled down for a small amount of TV. A small amount is all we get these days. When we got back up and went into the kitchen again, there were mouse droppings all over the kitchen counter.

"Did the mouse come in here just in the time we were watching TV?" said my husband. "I guess so," I replied.

I think we both had a similar vision. It involved the mouse getting on the counter, seeing that we were watching TV, doing a superiority dance like the gopher in "Caddyshack," and proceeding to crap all over the counter while laughing a sinister mouse laugh.

In addition to being grossed out by mouse droppings in our food preparation area, we resented the mouse's little dance and its laughter. We also found that it had chewed another hole in the birdseed bag. "I thought that other hole had just happened," said my husband. "You aren't very familiar with mice, are you?" I said. "Put the birdseed in a big plastic container, like the dog food."

My husband still wants to use the humane trap, but he has stopped referring to the mouse as "cute" and seems to be using the word "rodent" more often.

Recent Reading

2006-04-25T22:08:00.000-04:00

Travels of A T-Shirt In The Global Economy. (I was going to have a picture of it, but Amazon won't play nice.)

Back in 1992 I was a graduate student at the London School of Economics, and one day just for fun an American friend and I went to see Michael Palin speak. He had just made another travel show for the BBC (Pole to Pole) and he welcomed us all to a "shameless attempt to flog more books." He showed slides of his trip accompanied by delightful off-the-cuff commentary. He was every bit as funny as you'd expect.

But the funniest thing for us wasn't something he said, it was a slide he showed. He showed a picture of a man in Africa, and the man was wearing a t-shirt that said "When I die, don't send me to Heaven, just send me to Myrtle Beach." This was before Myrtle Beach, SC, had re-invented itself as a land of golf and family-friendly vacations, and more when we thought of it as the land of spring break and drunken debauchery. The sheer strangeness of sitting in a theater in London watching a member of Monty Python show a picture of a man in Africa wearing a Myrtle Beach t-shirt just seemed to sum up our London experience. The whole world was in London. Here was proof.

And while I found "The Travels Of A T-Shirt In The Global Economy" fascinating and educational, it did ruin a little of the magic of that memory for me. I found out why that guy in Africa had the t-shirt. He bought it in a secondary market of American used clothing. You know those clothes you gave to Goodwill that they couldn't sell? They were re-sold in Africa, in pretty much the only free market for clothing. (Yes, Goodwill still made money off them).

I'm not an anti-globalization person, or even an anti-commerce person. Though my politics tend to the left, I have an MBA and tend to be a free-trade type. But this book really opened my eyes both about the extent of government regulation of trade, and about the strange ways that government regulation actually sometimes creates an advance in the industry.

Plus, this book was a light, easy read, which is nice when my time for reading is limited. It reminded me a bit of Freakonomics in that it was reasonably analytic, but clearly written so my foggy night-nursing brain could slog through it. It helped me feel I still could think, though if I really could think I'd probably be more articulate in recommending it.

Did I Really Need A Quiz To Tell Me This?

2006-04-20T11:53:00.000-04:00

You Belong in London

You belong in London, but you belong in many cities... Hong Kong, San Francisco, Sidney. You fit in almost anywhere.
And London is diverse and international enough to satisfy many of your tastes. From curry to Shakespeare, London (almost) has it all!

What European City Do You Belong In?

I'm out of PG Tips, and it has been almost two years since I've been to London. We took S. when she was about 9 months old. It was wonderful. We went from park to park and she crawled in all of them. I've been to London at least once every two years since I went to graduate school there, and at least every 3 years since my first trip in 1986. But I think it will be a lot longer this time. It is just hard to travel with two little little kids.

I miss travel. I miss that sense of accomplishment I always got from just functioning in another culture. I miss that surreal pseudo-night feeling when the lights are dimmed on the plane and you know you will wake up in another time and another place.

I have a hard time finding people who know how I feel. A friend from high school visited yesterday and was looking at a couple of pictures I have on the wall; scenes of Austria and Thailand and Belgium. "I guess you travelled a lot in your old job," she said. "Yeah," I said. "I've never been out of the country," she said. "You should go," I said. "Go somewhere easy, like London." I didn't even get into the other countries my husband and I love, like Japan and Thailand.

After our trip to London with S. I was talking to a woman in playgroup. "What's been going on with you," she said. "Well, we went to London," I said. She looked at me with such incredulity you'd think I'd just said we went to the moon.

On the other end of the spectrum, my cousins haul their kids all over the planet on a regular basis. One cousin works for an American school in Southeast Asia and they take their 2-year-old on long haul flights to China, the U.S., France, everywhere. Another cousin works as a physician on an AIDS project in Africa and hauls her 4-year-old and 2-year-old back and forth often. Perhaps if I had my kids on planes regularly it would be easier, but the once-a-year overseas trip seems too hard to be worth it.

In the meantime, I have to mail order my PG Tips rather than pick them up in person, and dream of the day when we can take the kids to see the world.

I Hate Mice

2006-04-19T21:51:00.000-04:00

There is a mouse in the house. I hate mice. I picture them creeping through the house and crawling across my kids and nosing around looking for crumbs. This is our second mouse in our 2 1/4 years in this house. The first one my husband thought was "cute" and insisted he'd call the mouse "George." He demanded a humane trap, so I borrowed one from my dad. Eventually we trapped George and he was moved to the woods behind our house.

The sad thing is that our cat and dog are lower than useless with mice. I've had my cat almost 10 years, and in that time she has brought one mouse in the house. By the time I found it was so dessicated that I couldn't determine cause of death. It could have starved.

When George was in the house we actually had the opportunity to expose both animals to him. He was sitting in the middle of a room so we brought in the dog, who seemed genuinely frightened by the little rodent. Later we had a chance to bring in the cat, who just didn't notice George.

Sometimes the cat likes to pretend she is a hunter, but I know her prey are having a good laugh. She seemed to be hunting the mouse tonight, but I'm not expecting any miracles. Something had her excited enough to be scurrying around the dining room.

In point of fact, I had realized we had a mouse in the garage a couple days ago, and asked my dad for the humane trap again. He suggested we might want to invest in our own at this point, and I hadn't done that yet. Then my husband announced "I see a rodent" as he was doing his stretching exercises. So I've been desperately searching the internet trying to decide if I should mail order the trap or go in search of a local hardware store that has it. Tomorrow will be devoted to mouse trap hunting. I want that critter out.

Dinner Last Night #2

2006-04-19T17:16:00.000-04:00

Tortellini with Tomato and Bacon Sauce

OK, it wasn't exactly last night, but I've gotten a little behind on these.

Instructions:

(prequel)

a) Return from evening hike and instruct husband to put water on the stove while you are nursing the baby. Nurse baby.

b) Finish nursing and discover that husband put water on the stove in a midget saucepan. Move water to a large pan.

(actual assembly)

1) Assemble the following:

1/2 a package of bacon
1 onion
2 garlic cloves
1 28-ounce can of diced tomatoes (I used Hunts Petite Diced)
about 1/2 teaspoon dried red pepper
about 1/2 teaspoon oregano
tortellini - your choice. I alternate "healthy" whole-wheat tortellini with "husband preferred" regular tortellini

Also set out some paper towels on a plate for bacon drainage.

2) Chop up the bacon and saute it. While it is sauteeing chop the onion and garlic. Drain the bacon and fry up the onion and garlic.

3) Start the tortellini cooking.

4) Add the bacon back to the onion and garlic. Add the tomatoes, red pepper, and oregano. Turn the heat down and cook until the tortellini is done.

Mix it all together and eat! Sometimes we add a little feta cheese or goat cheese if we have it around. This takes about 20-25 minutes, and makes enough for two people to eat for dinner and at least one and possible both of you to eat for lunch the next day. This was originally based on a recipe on Epicurious, but when I looked back at the recipe I realized I've now drifted a long way from the original.

Road Trip Report

2006-04-19T14:28:00.000-04:00

We took our first long road trip with two kids this weekend. We went to Manassas, VA, to see my cousin and her daughter, who is only about two months older than S. It takes about 4 1/2 hours to drive it with no breaks. Naturally we took breaks.

Things that worked about the trip:

Kids' CDs. S. loves the Best of Elmo (she calls it "Elmo Songs") and also enjoys Toddler Tunes and Burl Ives sings (she calls this "Animal Songs"). The only problem is that is our whole list of CDs, and when the CD would start over she'd yell NOOOO and demand a different CD. I've just put in a new order to Amazon, for Sesame Street Kids Favorite Songs, Sesame Street Kids Favorite Songs 2, and the Mary Poppins soundtrack. It was kind of a binge, but I think it will pay off in summer beach trips.

Books. I didn't really think I'd be able to read in the car, but I did a lot of holding the book up and reading it anyway.

Computer backup. Even though I'd just been reading all the comments on Blogging Baby that seemed to imply that using DVDs on a car trip would rot my kids' brains on the spot, I brought my DVD playing laptop and our very fine collection of Scholastic DVDs so I could be secure in the knowledge that if things really got bad I had my own personal zombifying device available. We didn't use it, though.

Our Lands' End beach blanket with built in pouch. We carry this thing in the car all the time. It is so nice at rest stops, where we can put it down and have a place for the baby to roll around and not pick up a cigarette butt. I can lie down and nurse, and we have a big ole changing area. It is very high on my "baby tools I wouldn't have thought of" list.

Only going to one destination, and making everyone else come to us. We have lots of friends and relatives in the DC area, and it is tempting to try to see everyone. My husband's brother lives in Silver Spring, MD, and on our last trip we drove there with S. It was miserable. The DC traffic never ends. In addition, my brother-in-law and his wife like to keep their kids very heavily scheduled, so we wound up driving around the greater Silver Spring area as we followed them from Russian class to Taco Bell to home back to some pageant at the kids' school. S. never got to run around and she wound up in the car for more than 3 hours and she was very unhappy. This time we had my aunt and uncle come to us (from West Virginia) on Saturday and had my brother-in-law and his family drive down from Silver Spring on Sunday. It wasn't the shortest drive for them, but it made things much easier.

Things that didn't work about the trip:

Fast Food. I'm not anti-fast food, I'm one of the 1-in-8 Americans who has worked at McDonald's and it was a fine experience. But on the way up we stopped at a rest stop, then as we approached Manassas we realized that we were starving. So we stopped at the most miserable Burger King in the history of the universe, where the wait was interminable and they did not give us all our food and both kids melted down while were in line. Then we ate it, and things got worse. I kept thinking of the salt lick we had for the goats when I was a kid. It was a large brown brick of solid salt. I felt like I'd eaten that salt lick. On the way back we stopped at McDonald's for play as it was raining, and S. and L. had a good time, but I again felt like I'd eaten a salt lick. A smaller salt lick, not quite full brick size, but salty just the same. Has it always been that salty? Maybe I've been eating less salt, or it just is hitting me more these days. Next time we have got to pack some grown-up food as well as the kid food.

Trying to fit my tush between the two car seats. When it got hard to entertain the kids (especially L.) I crawled on back there and tried to fit between the seats while the seatbelt holder ground into my hip. Meanwhile my husband seemed to have confused the Richmond-Petersburg section of highway with the Indy Motor Speedway, so we went whizzing between lanes as I gained additional bruises. I look forward to having both kids forward-facing so entertainment is easier.

All-in-all, though, it was a good trip. It was wonderful to see S. playing with her second cousin M. They were so cute together. They had whole conversations, which I didn't expect. The cutest moment was when they got their Easter baskets and my cousin said "say 'Thank you Easter Bunny'" and M. said "Thank you Easter Bunny" and S. picked up a stuffed bunny from the basket and said "You're welcome."

A Quiz For Every Age

2006-04-18T13:57:00.000-04:00

So we came back from our first road trip with both kids last night and found a message on the machine saying that L.'s 9-month check-up was scheduled for this morning. Oops! I thought it was next week. In addition, S. had a temperature of 102.7, so I hauled her to the doctor too. Ordinarily I'd wait and see if the temperature lasted, but since I was there we checked it out (it was just a virus).

The best part of the doctor visit, though, is fast becoming the "Ages and Stages Questionnaire." Apparently these are now required for Medicaid patients and most doctors are now doing them for all patients. We first saw it at L.'s six month visit, when it asked if she could pick up Cheerios with a pincer grip and I thought "haven't tried that, since I'd worry that she'd then choke on the Cheerio."

This time the questions are getting even more bizarre. My favorite is "Does your baby poke at or try to get a crumb or Cheerio that is inside a clear bottle (such as a plastic soda-pop bottle or baby bottle)?" Since my child is not actually a monkey, we hadn't tried that.

I had question marks on a couple of others, like "when holding a toy in his hand, does your baby bang it against another toy on the table." My baby only sits at a table to eat, so we hadn't tried that one either. Therefore my baby got a big "question mark" on her score sheet for "problem solving." There were no questions for the problems she does solve, like "does your child body slam the cat so she can play with the cat's tags?"

I'm told the questionnaire is intended to start discussion on potential developmental problems. I assured the doctor that I'm not worried about L.'s problem solving; end of discussion. I also notice that the questionnaire is designed to be taken home and filled out (so you can try the Cheerio game, apparently) but I don't know of any doctors who do that, because getting parents to bring homework in is probably just totally unrealistic.

I also told the doctor that one of the questions made me laugh out loud, and she knew immediately which one it was. She said "wait for the 15-month questionnaire." Hmm.

Dinner Last Night #1

2006-04-12T12:52:00.000-04:00

Miso Glazed Salmon,
Broccoli with Black Bean Sauce,
Rice

(Can you tell I'm not a food photographer? Yeah. I was hungry so I only took one shot. Sorry about the fuzziness.)

Except for the broccoli and the miso, this is entirely a meal of foods I had in the pantry or the freezer.

Game plan:

1) Put rice in the rice cooker, because it takes the longest (15-20 minutes). I love my rice cooker! I also keep rice around all the time. I buy the 25 pound bags at the Asian grocery. This is Jasmine Rice.

2) Defrost the salmon, because I failed to plan ahead. My new "stock" item is the frozen wild salmon sold at Whole Foods. It is about $7-8 for two 6-ounce pieces, which is as cheap or cheaper than the salmon in the seafood case, and it is wild which is supposedly better than farm raised. Plus I can keep it as a freezer item so I don't have to plan ahead. When I buy fish fresh I usually try to use it that day.

3) Nurse the baby because she is shreiking. This was not in my original game plan, but what can you do?

4) Mix:
1/4 cup brown sugar
1 tablespoon water
1 tablespoon yellow miso
(bought at the Asian grocery, lasts several weeks)
1 tablespoon low-sodium soy sauce
(also from the Asian grocery in a large vat)

Line a metal pan with a piece of foil and put the fish in (ungreased). This is a technique I always use, because the fish skin will fuse to the foil and you then can remove the fish without the skin and throw away the foil with the skin. Plus there is easy clean up!

Put the mixed miso sauce on top of the fish. Broil for 10 minutes.
In the interest of full disclosure, I will mention that this is a simplified version of a Cooking Light recipe which is excellent if you have time for it (it has this salmon and some very yummy mashed potatoes.)

5) Cut up the broccoli and crush a couple cloves of garlic over it. Saute it for a few minutes, then add about 1/4 cup of water and let the water steam off. Add about 1 tablespoon black bean sauce and about 1 tablespoon of low-sodium soy-sauce.

That's it! If not for step (3), it should take less than 25 minutes.

On a side note, I keep a list on the refrigerator entitled "Foods S. will eat." It is for my husband, who thinks she will only eat yogurt, cheese, bread, and fruit. My mother was here one day standing about 10 feet from the fridge, and interrupted the conversation to say "you misspelled broccoli." It took me a minute to even figure out what she was talking about. And I had misspelled it as brocolli. Brocolli still looks more normal to me. I had to look it up for this post. But I also thought "so that is where I learned to be so obsessive-compulsive about editing errors."

Second, Choose a Topic

2006-04-12T12:09:00.000-04:00

When I created this blog I spent some time choosing a name. But I didn't think as much about writing topic. I am in awe of other blogs I see where they seem to have come out fully formed. I saw one the other day that hadn't existed much longer than mine and already had won an award.

I've decided that I've done too many Mommy rants, and I want to introduce two new topics. First, I'm going to try blogging my meals, because I have a lot of friends who ask me what I cook for dinner. If that works, maybe I'll spin it off into a secondary blog. Second, I'm going to try blogging what I'm reading, since I like to talk about books.

With luck these topics will also make me post more often.

No More Baby Showers

2006-04-11T19:08:00.000-04:00

After this weekend, I've resolved to only attend showers for very close relatives or friends. Like my grandchildren. That sounds about right.

We had some great showers for S. We had no showers for L. since she came along so quickly after S. So perhaps I'd forgotten how gruesome showers could be. The best shower for S. was thrown by my husband's co-workers, who had never been to a shower and had no preconceptions (so to speak). They googled "baby shower" and picked the games they found the funniest. The best one was a game where contestants put vaseline on their nose then stick their face in a bowl of cotton balls and try to see how many remain attached when they lift their head up. I don't know what it had to do with babies, but it was damn funny to watch. There is nothing like winning a prize because you have a dozen cotton balls stuck to your face with vaseline.

We also had a great shower thrown by my sister's mother-in-law and sister-in-law, where all the guests were good friends of mine and we had wonderful food and laughed a lot.

This shower Sunday was neither of those showers. It was a shower thrown for a woman in playgroup. I knew three people there, none well. No one introduced me to the other people, though the grandmoms were polite enough to introduce themselves. Discussion topics included:

1) How fast several of their labors were, and how they did not have time for an epidural. Since I had a c-section after 48+ hours of labor, I could not contribute to this discussion.

2) Home shopping parties they have known and loved, including the one with various mixes for speedy food, home clothing purchase, and of course Pampered Chef. I'm not big on home shopping parties, probably because I don't much like to shop. I like to buy quickly and move on.

3) How much they love their houses. Why their house is the perfect house for them and is their forever house. I like my house fine, but it is definitely our 5-to-7-year-house.

4) Why gambling is wonderful and how Vegas casinos are so much better than Riverboat casinos, which are smoky. Since I do not believe I can win at gambling, I do not gamble, so again I had nothing to contribute.

5) How cute the gifts were.

We moved in lock-step formation from the food to the games (the string game and one where you unscramble baby words, if you are interested) to the gifts to the cake. The invitation had specified 12:30 - 3:00 and at 3:00 the dogs were removed from the doors and we were dismissed.

My time away from the kids is so limited. Next time I'm just going to do some errands!

Let's Talk About Food

2006-04-06T16:00:00.000-04:00

I'm thinking about food for a couple of reasons. First, I'm a little tired of reading Mommy Blogs non-stop. I liked them for a while when they were new and I found some people who seemed to think like me, but after a while the endless discussion of "Mommy Wars" got to be a little much. A lot of them are more articulate at discussing it than me, but after a while you can only agree that "there is no war" so many times. Second, I like food. Food is one of my major focuses after childcare. When I first quit work I had an absolute festival of cooking all the time and trying all the recipes I'd been meaning to try for years. I still cook for relaxation, though not as much as I used to do. I do eat a lot, especially given the pregnancies and the lactation. I had no idea what breastfeeding did to your appetite, but believe me it creates a hungry monster much bigger than the pregnant hungry monster. Some days I could eat anything.

So now I've been reading food blogs. Food blogs have pretty pictures and good recipes. I tried this recipe for oat squares recently because I had a boatload of jam around and I don't really eat a lot of jam. This disposed of it nicely, as long as I don't think about that cup of butter that went into it.

I was reading a Mommy bulletin board recently and the discussion topic was "what is your major indulgence?" People's replies were things like "a latte every day" and "a pedicure." I didn't answer, but if I did I would have just said "my groceries." I rarely buy lattes (I like them, just not enough to haul both kids to Starbucks). I'm neutral on personal services, though I do like to get my brows waxed. But I like to buy good groceries. I like to get exactly the herb I want for a recipe, and more and more I like to buy local and organic foods.

I first started thinking seriously about how food is prepared shortly before I left corporate wonderland. Our executive vice president's assistant had the New York Times magazine on her desk and said "here, you'd find this interesting." It had this article about beef production in the U.S. It is a great article. The number one fact that impressed me from it is that it used to take 4-5 years to get a steer to market, and now they have it down to 14 to 16 months using corn feed, hormones and antibiotics.

After that I read "Fast-Food Nation," which will convince you that the processing of food can be a very dark place, and that while fast-food created a monster it also has the power to effect change. The meat you buy from McDonald's may have gone through a safer processing facility than the meat you buy at the grocery store, because McDonald's has the power to make demands.

After reading those two works, I started buying a lot of grass-fed and hormone-free beef. When we can we get grass-fed at farmer's markets, and when I'm strapped for time I buy the hormone-free version at my local supermarket.

The next step in my food decisions was a copy of an Organic Food magazine I read in the doctor's waiting room while pregnant with S. It had a link to this list of foods with the most pesticides and foods with the fewest. It is a great list, and convinced me to go out of my way to get organic apples. I also wish I could get organic grapes, as S. is a big grape fan, but they are even hard to find at Whole Foods.

The list of foods got more play in a recent (February 2006) Consumer Reports report which referenced the same foodnews.org study.

Then shortly after S. was born I saw a documentary called "The Corporation." I was a little disappointed in the documentary, as I'd been hoping for an analysis of the kind of group think that leads a corporation to bad decisions. Instead I got a guided tour of various corporate crimes of the last 20-30 years. I'd already heard many of the stories. However, there was one story I hadn't heard before. It was the story of two reporters in Florida who tried to do a story on rBGH, a hormone given to cows to increase milk production. The hormone is banned in Europe and Canada. They were fired; a summary of the story is here under "The Price of Whistleblowing."

So I started doing a little research into rBGH/rBST (Recombinant Bovine Growth Hormone / Recombinant bovine somatotropin). I think those two terms are equivalent, at least for this discussion. There is a lot of information out there, but I thought this old article from (of all places) Penthouse gave a pretty fair summary. rBGH/rBST is pretty much in all milk except organic milk or milk labeled as free of it, but interestingly as this article says: "U.S. Food and Drug Administration has recommended that any label that says the product is rBST-free should appear in the proper context with accompanying information, such as 'no significant difference has been shown between milk derived from rBST-treated and non-rBST-treated cows.' " So companies can say their product is rBST free, but if they don't say the "no significant difference..." phrase they can be sued for libeling rBST!

My. They are sure anxious to tell you this stuff is safe, even if Europe and Canada ban it. Anyway, I decided I'd like to avoid it where I can though I'm not obsessive about it. We buy organic or hormone-free milk and cheese if we can, but sometimes we can't.

My newest step in the evolution of my food buying is to work on buying locally. We already like to get goat cheese from Celebrity Dairy, the site of my wonderful wedding. We buy at the wonderful Carrboro Farmer's Market when we can, as Carrboro requires that farmers be local. And this year I'm looking at buying a share in a farm (a CSA - Consumer Supported Agriculture). There is a great list of CSAs at Local Harvest.

OK, I've run out of time so that is enough on food for now. I have more thoughts, though!

High School Is Not Actually Over

2006-04-05T22:55:00.000-04:00

The names in this story have been changed to protect the paranoid.

We have a pretty nice playgroup. Most of the mommies are in their late 30s, and I like being with mommies closer to my age. Then I don't feel so old. Most of the kids are right around 2. Several of the mommies were nice enough to bring us meals when L. was born. We were on the front end of second babies, but now a lot of the mommies are having second babies, so get-togethers have been a little harder to schedule.

I know that some of the mommies have other connections and other playdates, but I don't really feel excluded. Some of them center around music class, which we couldn't go to because S. went through a phase of yelling during group singing (NO MOMMY) even though she likes singing herself. I know I've been in at least one subgroup too, as we were part of a subset of playgroup invited to one birthday party.

So we've been trying to organize for an outing to a local farm event. Ever since our original organizer, Kathy, got pregnant with twins we've all sort of taken informal turns organizing things, and if no one steps up to the plate it just doesn't happen. No one seemed to be stepping up for the plate for this until I got a call from Tina saying she was organzing a group including people from our group and other friends. I said I wanted in. She asked about other people from playgroup; I said I thought Kathy's son was in pre-school so she was out.

Then Kathy sent a note to our Yahoo list saying "I'll organize, who wants to go." So I sent a note that said "Tina is already organizing, contact her" and I forwarded Tina's message (which went to her private list, not the Yahoo list). Then Kathy sent out an IRATE message saying she was being left out and it wasn't the first time.

So I called Kathy and I said "I hope I didn't contribute to the misunderstanding." She said "no, no, I appreciate your letting me know something else was being organized." Then she said "Tina just doesn't like me."

Oh.

I was a bit stuck for a response. I've actually only met Tina a couple of times, and I wasn't sure many of us knew each other well enough to determine like or dislike. We really tend to just talk about our kids.

Tina then sent an apology/explanation to the Yahoo list, and Kathy followed it with a long "I didn't mean to upset anybody; perhaps I'm just hormonal" note.

I'm a little curious how the excursion will go.

Me, I've never been a very clique-ey person. In high school I had an eclectic group of friends from everything from the drama druggies to the honor students. I liked my one-on-one relationships with each of them, but I knew I could never put them in a room together.

But I can't say I've never been a part of a clique. When I was in graduate school in England I fell in with a group of students who were mostly on grants, and who had a similar work ethic to me, and who all were in the same study session. Since we went straight from our Friday afternoon study session to the pub we became a kind of de facto group. We had little mini-dramas within the group and various friendships outside the group, but we did move as a bit of a pack.

Based on my experience inside and outside, I don't think most cliques operate with the kind of planned malice those on the outside assume. I think a lot of cliques are formed by accidents of proximity, and that a lot of exclusions are pure absentmindedness. Maybe I'm too idealistic about it, but I've never heard anyone say "let's not include her. I just don't like her."

And yet people still fear that is what is being said. I fear it too, on my bad days, but in my rational heart I don't think so.

I'm Sorry, What Did You Just Say?

2006-04-05T15:05:00.000-04:00

We went to the new Kidzu Children's Museum in Chapel Hill today. It was great. Apparently they plan rotating exhibits, and the current exhibit was Maurice Sendak. Since S. has quite the thing about "In the Night Kitchen" and "Where the Wild Things Are" she was in seventh heaven. They even had a slide that went down into foam rubber simulating "Chicken Soup and Rice."

I wasn't quite sure about the fact that it is in the very center of Chapel Hill, but as it turned out that was great too, as they work on a "wrist band" system and you can leave and come back. So we left for snacks at Qdoba, and returned when the crowds had eased.

When we went back, the few remaining kids were lined up for the "Chicken Soup and Rice" slide. The little boy in front of S. was fidgety, and his dad told him to sit down to go down the slide. S., ever the parrot, started repeating "sit your bum down, sit your bum down." Suddenly the little boy turned on her and venomously said "b****." I was so startled I wasn't sure I'd heard correctly. His dad seemed unsurprised and said "be nice, she's just telling you to sit down. Now sit down." I was still trying to get my jaw closed, but finally just turned to S. and said "it is his turn S., wait for him to go" and other "be patient" type phrases.

Now I don't have the cleanest mouth, and I'm not easily shocked, but I was shocked. Where does a 2-year-old learn this?

Things I Find In The Play Area #3: Bathtub Mural

2006-04-04T22:31:00.000-04:00

S. likes to tell us what to do. She particularly likes to tell us what to do with crayons and playdough. "Make a car," she'll say. "Make a bed." "Make a blanket." "Make a boy." "Make a pillow." Sometimes the things she asks for are a little hard to achieve, like when she asks us to "make night" out of playdough.

I bought bath crayons and I don't like them as they leave little wax flecks everywhere, but S. loves them. And she likes to tell us what to draw with them. She told Daddy to make a car, and then she told him to make the car go. He also had to make the bicycle, and make the bicycle go. I think he added the rocket on his own, but she wanted it to go too.

One thing I've learned from the drawing on command is that my husband is a much better artist than I am. I mean, look at these. You can actually tell what they are! And he drew them hanging upside down over the edge of the tub while she was in it. I'm pretty impressed. My drawings look like I'm about a year older than S.

Fight For The Right To Party

2006-03-29T16:01:00.000-05:00

Almost every day at around 3 p.m. we go for a drive to get my toddler to sleep. I tune in to a little "Fresh Air" on NPR and listen to grown ups talk.

But it just isn't the same when the guests on Fresh Air are the Beastie Boys and my toddler is bouncing up and down to the clips Terry Gross is playing. Maybe some classic rock would be more soothing?

What Is Up With the Grouchy Mommies At The Playground?

2006-03-28T13:45:00.000-05:00

Daddytypes has a couple of posts on Daddy/Mommy interactions on the playground, and it couldn't be more timely for us. In our house Daddy does more of the playground time, because I often only go if I have a friend going and a guaranteed extra pair of hands with both S. and L. My darling husband goes with S. on his own, which is a little more straightforward.

Anyway, he came home from the playground Sunday a little shaken, and said he'd learned to be careful what he said. Apparently a smaller boy started trying to walk down the "bridge" which is made of very flexible rubber while two larger boys were bouncing on it. Since the mom of the smaller boy didn't try to stop him, the mom of the larger boys quickly herded her kids off the bridge. My husband told her it was a good thing she moved the boys, as he'd seen kids fall off the bridge, though the wood chips below are pretty soft and they weren't injured.

Later, as the mom of the smaller boy left, she turned on my husband and said "I heard what you said and I didn't appreciate your sarcasm." She was clearly quite angry. My husband didn't quite understand what she meant, but apologized. I said maybe she thought you were being sarcastic about wood chips being soft. But, of course, they are relatively soft. That is why they are there. When my nephew broke his arm under their family swing, the first thing my brother did was put down more wood chips.

Per the commenters on DaddyTypes, there are apparently just a lot of hypervigilant moms out there, and they don't appreciate Dads' jokes.

So today I went to the playground with S. and L. and a friend and her son. Another mom was hovering over her daughter, who was quite small but probably about the same age as S. The mom appeared to be, if anything, slightly older than me. The daughter appeared to be adopted, which I only mention because maybe the mom didn't have a lot of experience with other kids, and maybe that explained the mom's hovering and her actions. A little boy tried to get in front of her daughter to go down the slide, not roughly and her daughter was ready to just stop and yield. The mother then quite literally shoved the little boy out of the way and started to lecture him that her daughter was smaller than him and that he should not get in the way of smaller children. Now, her daughter was smaller than him, but my bet is that she was the same age or older (2). The little boy just stared at the irate mom like a deer in the headlights, uncertain how to respond. Finally he moved a little and the angry mom relaxed a bit and thanked him. He continued to stare at her. I'm not sure where his mom was, but it was a very strange scene.

Later just to check some of my hypotheses I asked her how old her daughter was, and found out she was the same age as S., which I'd figured even though S. was taller. The angry mom also warned me that her daughter had had a rough landing at the bottom of one of the slides, and I thanked her and said we hadn't tried that one yet. I thought about telling her that little boy was too little to understand what she was saying, but I didn't want to make an ugly scene any uglier.

My husband and I were discussing it at lunch and agreed that (1) when there is a rough kid around, we just remove our kid and (2) it is so much nicer to go to the playground with people you know rather than meet the crazies.

Things I Find In The Play Area #2

2006-03-21T15:54:00.000-05:00

This one, I'm told, is the baby in the Night Kitchen. "In The Night Kitchen," which for those unfamiliar with it is a story by Maurice Sendak. I wasn't familiar with it either, but it is one of the stories on a very fine Scholastic video of "Where The Wild Things Are" we were given (thanks Anita!). I find the "In the Night Kitchen" a little odd, actually, but S. is fascinated by it. It involves the dreams of a little boy, Mickey, who goes off into space and gets kneaded into some dough by large chefs, then ruins the bread by popping out of it. The chefs are irritated and need more milk for more cake, so Mickey makes an airplane out of dough and goes up through the Milky Way to get milk. I think I've got that right; I don't always watch S.'s videos too closely.

I suspect my husband may have had a hand in this particular tableaux, but I'm not sure. S. is very taken with the Night Kitchen and chants "milk in the batter" a lot and makes the little baby doll ride her toy plane, as well as kneading the baby doll into playdough.

On a side note, "In The Night Kitchen" is apparently a commonly banned book (and I'm always in favor of those) as Mickey is nude in parts of it. I found various analyses of it here and here. I don't think S. is interested in the banned book status, though. She just likes the plane.

Things I Find In The Play Area #1

2006-03-21T15:46:00.000-05:00

I don't know what the puppy did to wind up in the stockade, but it must have been something bad.

No, Doctor, Please

2006-03-21T11:52:00.000-05:00

S. is very big on playing doctor. Her favorite activities are checking your heartbeat, saying ahh, checking ears, and checking your reflexes (or as she calls it "bop your knee."). She started doing this after we got an "Elmo Goes to the Doctor" video and an extensive collection of hand-me-down doctor toys from my sister.

The problem is that the stethescope has a piece of sponge in it. And L., who is teething, likes to chew on it and fill the sponge with drool.

So I'm changing L.'s diaper, and S. is "listening" to my heartbeat and I suddenly realize that the stethescope is wicking spit through my shirt. Cold wet spit. Then she moves the stethescope and starts a new spit spot. It is all I can do not to shreik or cringe.

And here I thought my grossest parenting experience was going to involve poop. I really hate spit.

Sitting Baby

2006-03-14T18:03:00.000-05:00

L. sat up on her own for the first time Sunday. I find sitting up a great milestone. It is very clear when it first happens. One of my big surprises as a parent was to find that so many of the milestones you hear about aren't very easy to observe. The hardest one for me was walking. Learning to walk was such a process for S. She did a lot of holding onto tables and chairs and walking, and then she'd let go for a second... no ... then maybe half a step .... then a little more. There was no "a-ha" moment of a first step.

Sitting, though, is very clear. S. sat up one day on her own in the crib, and surprised me as I turned around. It was July 2, 2004. L. was very clearly aiming to sit up Sunday morning, and I caught most of it on videotape. That was nice.

So L. is a little less of a baby. I know I will miss the toddler stage for my children, but I don't think I'll miss the 0-4 month stage. They are just too easy to break, even if they are yours. I'm glad to have a sturdy little girl who can sit and reach and make trouble.

I'm At War. Who Knew?

2006-03-13T23:54:00.000-05:00

I just found this article the Washington Post ran this weekend called "Moms at War." The author has a book (big surprise) and is trying so hard to give a balanced picture of work-at-home and stay-at-home moms. But when it comes right down to it, it is clear that she doesn't like stay-at-home moms much. To quote: "What puzzles me is that despite the fact that I've crafted a pretty ideal work/family situation, at times I'm still envious of the trust stay-at-home moms seem to have in their husbands and in life, a breezy Carol Brady confidence that they will always be taken care of. Some days I'd kill for a dose of their faith that neither my husband nor life will leave me stranded, destitute, unable to protect myself and my children without the independence conferred by a job and paycheck of my own."

CAROL BRADY????? Could she pick a more insulting archetype? A never-employed career mom who was detached from reality in more ways than just her mom decisions.

And while I have a great deal of trust in my husband, what is up with the assumption that by staying home I'm assuming I "will always be taken care of." I worked for many years and have a large pile of savings to fall back on, savings of my own. I have a nice education and experience that I can use to find employment again.

What I am doing is living my life for the current scenario, not for some hypothetical worst case scenario (what if my husband, my savings, and my extended family all disappeared in a poof of smoke). I am also assuming I have a community; it always strikes me as very Western and maybe even very American to assume that we have no one to ask for help if the worst happens. I've had a pretty charmed life, but from others experience I have the impression that when the worst happens people are more willing to help than you'd think.

I admit, I have some jealousy of SOME working moms. I'm not jealous of the ones who feel they have to work, but I am a little jealous of the ones who want to work. My jealousy takes two forms. (1) I'm jealous of their having a job they like enough to stick with it. A big part of the reason I am at home is that I was very burned out on my job. (2) I am jealous of having a standing childcare arrangement. It is so hard for me to schedule anything, but especially self-care, like doctor's appointments and haircuts. It makes me feel like a more marginal person. I have a hard time justifying paying money for childcare when I'm not working.

Mostly, though, I notice that everyone's situation is different. I know mine is. It is a function of age and financial status and the work situation at the time. I have friends who work; I have friends who stay home. I don't try to assign them to one of two opposing armies. The world is much more complicated than that.

Things My Daughter Loves

2006-03-13T15:36:00.000-05:00

S. has announced she loves the following items:

1. Purple
2. Blue
3. Books
4. Sketti (spaghetti)

If repetition is any guide, she loves books very very much.

Now, what is missing from this list? Hmm. Let me think.

I know I am not alone in this, since my cousin's husband tried to get her daughter to say "I love Mommy" and instead they'd get "I ... love .... PIZZA."

And a friend of my sister's had her daughter come home from pre-school around Thanksgiving with a turkey that said "I am thankful for .... carrots."

The Jackson Five Just Don't Sound The Same Anymore

2006-03-08T19:10:00.000-05:00

My toddler S. loves music with a bouncy beat, so my darling husband put in his old Jackson Five Greatest Hits CD. S. loves it and dances around, but my husband and I both find that we just can't listen to the Jackson Five in the same way anymore. We hear that cute little Michael singing about adult themes and think "poor little guy. He got so messed up." The only song we can listen to easily is "ABC," though even that has a little "baby you and me" mixed in. We're going to pick a new CD for dancing around the living room.

Yet another article on moms

2006-03-08T16:59:00.000-05:00

Maybe I need to stop surfing while nursing, 'cause I found another voice chiming in on the whole feminist mom/stay-at-home mom discussion. Since so many paid journalists are taking assignments to write articles on this topic, I can tell it has a lot of readers.

This article discusses the fact that feminist moms tend to be less happy with their choices and maybe it is because they just have too much choice. Apparently there is a lot of research lately that says more choice doesn't lead to more happiness. I haven't read up on this thought yet, but my dad is reading a book on it and is very taken with the idea (so it has been mentioned in multiple conversations). Anyway, the article ends well, with the line "sometimes the personal is just personal."

I keep feeling vaguely guilty for staying at home, as if I am forfeiting points in our life scoring system (money). I think I keep reading all these articles hoping to find someone just like me who is staying home, but the people like me are the ones still working. What does that mean?

Early Potty Training Success

2006-03-07T19:36:00.000-05:00

My darling husband has successfully gotten our 26-month-old to pee in the potty every night for almost a week.

The reason I know this is that he leaves the pee in the potty, and I find the "pee surprise" when I go up for the night.

So my question is: should I be pleased or irritated? I'm torn. Mostly I'm going with "pleased," since it is pretty characteristic of my darling husband to be absent minded. The moments of "irritated" are as I empty the pot. But I am getting a lot of mileage out of complaining about it, always when my husband is within earshot. He does at least have the grace to seem embarassed.

Three Years As A Dropout

2006-03-07T18:39:00.000-05:00

Today marks three years since I left corporate wonderland (c.w.). I got pregnant within days of leaving c.w., so I've been pregnant or breastfeeding for the last three years. And that's all. Or it feels that way anyway.

There was that brief foray into teaching for bigonlineuniversity, which was truly miserable and took me about 40 hours a week and paid me $960 for six weeks. You don't need a calculator to know that is well under minimum wage.

My mom talked me into "organizing" her accounts a while back and I got her all set up on Quicken, and she recently told me she hadn't maintained it since. And she didn't pay me. Meanwhile, my obsessive interest in tracking my own accounts in Quicken has completely fallen off the rails.

I've done a little writing, but not as much as I hoped.

I cook a lot. I do a lot of laundry.

Other than that, just been raising kids. Yup, that's all. I wonder where the time goes but then I realize an hour of it went to watercolors this morning, then there was the half-hour for the bath because in order to have the full watercolor experience one must paint one's arms and face. It just slips away in these moments, and they are wonderful moments.

Yet I feel vaguely guilty for not working. I love being with my kids and I don't miss c.w., but I feel like I should be working. Part of this is that I surf while nursing my younger daughter, and there is so much in current media discussing the "opt out revolution" and accusing women who opt out of living "lesser lives" . My life now feels a lot better most of the time, but I'm letting myself be affected by those who think I'm not living up to my potential.

I confess I'm feeling a little down on my three-year anniversary of dropping out. My brother and I are going to a franchise fair this weekend, so maybe evaluating some ideas for my own business will make me either (a) find something else or (b) enjoy what I have more.

More Evidence My Child Is Like Me

2006-03-03T15:10:00.000-05:00

(Dialogue between Curious George and stuffed Bunny, as spoken by S.)
George: Hi Bunny.
Bunny: Hi George. What doin'?
Bunny (spotting my coffee cup): Hey! Coffee!
(Bunny is moved over to drink from coffee cup, George is forgotten)

Never Cut Your Own Bangs

2006-03-02T22:41:00.000-05:00

As the oldest child, I remember vividly not just my own traumas, but those of my siblings. Especially those traumas I was powerless to prevent.

So I remember what my sister refers to only as "the haircut."

I'm not sure how it started, but one of my parents tried to give her a haircut when she was about 5. It wasn't quite even, so they trimmed a little more off. It still wasn't quite right, so the other gave it a try. That wasn't quite even, so they trimmed a little more off. Then they switched scissor operators again.

By the time it was over my sister's hair barely cleared her ears in a classic bowl cut. She was mortified and sobbing inconsolably. I remember wishing so much for something I could do to save her from this trauma.

My own hair was a rat's nest. My dad referred to me as Phyllis Diller. I think he thought this was funny. Around the time I was 10, my mother stopped giving me the classic bowl cut and decided to actually spend some money on proper haircuts for me. She attached a lot of ceremony to the process, calling multiple salons and asking if they had someone who was particularly good with (lowered voice) curly hair. Curly hair wasn't a point of pride in the 70s. But at least my haircuts were of reasonable length.

By the time I hit college, the whole process of calling salons and asking for specialists in curly hair seemed a little arduous, so I took to cutting my own bangs. As anyone can tell you, it was a bad idea. I couldn't get them straight. I'd try again, trimming a little more off, and they'd just get shorter. I am immortalized in the Class of 1987 yearbook with bangs that are very clearly 1/2 inch shorter on one side than the other, and climb across my forehead in a jagged slope.

So once I had an income I swore I'd never cut bangs again.

Then I had a kid. A kid who didn't like strangers. A kid with a lot of curly hair.

First, I waited to cut her hair. My sister told me it was bad luck to cut hair before 1 year old, so I used that excuse. My husband started to complain though, so I very cautiously trimmed her bangs a small amount. He kept complaining, so I let him take her to a salon designed for kids. When he came back he reported "she screamed the whole time." They both seemed a little shaken by the experience.

But after several months, her hair was in her eyes. My husband said "we must cut her hair." I said "but she'll scream at the salon." He said "we must cut her hair." I said "but it doesn't work to do it yourself." He said "we must cut her hair." Finally we wound up in a strange and not-at-all-well-thought-out tableaux with one of us holding her bangs and the other holding the scissors.

Her bangs wound up short AND crooked. Bitter words followed. Her hair continued to grow.

About a year after her first salon visit, my husband started with the "we must cut her hair" again. I thought "maybe she can do the salon now." We went with no appointment, just at a moment when I had the kids organized. The front of the salon had toys and a fun play area. I thought "this is great, she'll get used to the place, it will be no problem." And she loved it. Until it was time for the haircut. Then she fused her little body to mine and wouldn't stop screaming. The stylist moved tentatively around us, trying to cut her hair and not mine. It worked, mostly, but when we got home I found a large "V" of hair remained at the very back.

Last week my husband started again on the hair. I couldn't face the salon, so I broke all my own rules and when S. was in the bath with wet hair I whipped out the scissors and took a quick snip across the front. That was all I was permitted, then she started yelling "MY hair. MY hair." It was a little short and a little crooked, but not the worst job ever. I live in fear of straightening it, though. I don't want to do what my parents did to my sister. A couple nights later I saw an opportunity and took one more snip. A couple days later, another snip. Now it looks semi-respectable, but since then I've also done what I should have done all along: I googled cutting bangs.

I think I found some good instructions. Some of them should have been a little obvious, like maybe I should get some good scissors instead of using the ones I bought to use in my dorm room 20 years ago. So my next attempt should go better, because despite all my resolutions, sometimes there is no getting around cutting your own (child's) bangs.

My Kid is Just Like Me

2006-03-01T10:38:00.000-05:00

Before I had kids I didn't realize how often Sesame Street repeats, but it does.

So we're watching an episode we'd seen before, where Zoe's tutu flew off into a tree and she and Baby Bear were discussing how to recover it. S. marches up to the TV and says "get Big Bird to get it! Where's Big Bird?"

This is in fact how the story ends. I was impressed with her memory and problem solving skills.

However, as the story went on she kept saying "Where's Big Bird?" and seemed to be getting frustrated that he hadn't yet come on the scene and solved everything. She knew the answer to this problem, why didn't the people who live in the TV know it too? I was reminded of my own performace reviews when working, where I was told that I didn't "suffer fools gladly."

People are always telling me that S. looks like me. Apparently she acts like me too.

Toddler Milestones: Learn to Pass the Buck

2006-03-01T10:36:00.000-05:00

Me: Everyone needs a diaper change. Who should go first?
S: (points at her sister, walks away)

First, choose a name

2006-02-21T11:43:00.000-05:00

I hesitate to create a blog, because something about it seems arrogant and self-indulgent in a navel-gazing kind of way. (Did you know navel oranges are also nav-E-l? So you could navel-gaze at an orange. But if you naval-gaze you must be staring at something of or relating to the navy. I love Webster's) But here is the thing: I always pledge to pratice writing more, and then I just don't. So maybe a blog will force me to practice more. If someone reads it, that's nice, and if they don't then what does it matter? It is just practice.

Also, Blogspot won't let me leave comments unless I create an account, so I may as well go all the way and create a blog.

But then I started trying to find a cute pithy name that summed up my life.

I tried "Corporate Dropout" because I am one. But apparently that is in use by some guy in New Jersey who is about 28, so he couldn't have been corporate for very long before dropping out. Actually, he seems to be in grad school.

I tried "Recovering Perfectionist" because I am that too. Although my darling husband might argue that I'm nowhere near recovery. But even though I couldn't find that blog, Blogspot wouldn't let me have that name (presumably somebody used it but he or she hasn't found the perfect thing to say to launch a blog).

Naturally "Jenny's Blog" was already in use. In a fit of pique, I tried "Nameless Blog" and "I hate blogs." Somebody already took those too, and the one that took "I hate blogs" had been in a particularly bitter mood, with posts like "I know you won't read this." I moved on fast.

I looked at the Parachute blog, thinking about "What Color is Your Parachute." I thought about "MidlifeMom" but it just seemed somber and depressing, though I spend a lot of time dwelling on the fact that I'm older than a lot of moms. Then I started thinking about the phrases I say all day, like "Don't Put That In Your Mouth," which was available but I feared attracting an undesirable spam element due to the double entendre.

Which brought me to "Playdough Isn't Food." I tried "Playdoh Isn't Food" too, but Playdoh is a registered trademark and I didn't really want a note from the Playdoh lawyers. And I do sometimes make my own Playdough, which contains about a cup of salt and definitely isn't food. And it is something I say. A lot.