Revenge of the MOMMY

A happy day, indeed

2006-09-19T10:47:00.000-04:00

Arrr! It's me favorite day, mateys! Ye best be laying in a supply of grog fer tonight, or it's Über die Planke schicken fer ye.

Oh happy day!

2006-09-15T09:25:00.000-04:00

Today is a most happy day, after a less than happy ending to yesterday (no details, just suffice it to say that a stuck zipper meant that I had to RIP MY PANTS OPEN in order to go to the bathroom).

Why? Today, dear readers, I discovered that Starbucks has returned their heavenly Pumpkin Spice Latte to the menu. And I'm not the only one obsessed with the PSL. The PSL is a sugary, super-sweet topping on all that is lovely about fall. It is followed by heaven in a cup for the Christmas holidays - the Gingerbread Latte.

So, as I sit surrounded by mounting paperwork and deadlines that make normal people cry, I am happy, caffeinated, and riding a sugar rush that will no doubt leave me asleep under my desk by lunchtime.

My computer stinks!

2006-09-13T22:31:00.000-04:00

That's not to say it's a bad computer, but my iBook stinks. To be more specific, the keyboard has a strong body odor smell. At first, I thought it was the apartment to which we had decamped to escape the worst of the construction. But then I noticed it here, in our guest room. It only took several days of puzzlement and underarm sniffing to determine that the smell was not me, but rather my stinky computer. Thanks to the magic of Google, I learned not only that I was not alone in having a computer with eau de locker room, but also that the problem was, in fact, quite common. Apparently, there are many solutions, but none of them seem to work for any length of time. So for now, my computer sleeps with a dryer sheet tucked snugly betwixt the keyboard and screen.

Any suggestions? Or do I need to break down and buy a new, better, non-stinky one?

Silent for that long, and that's all I can come up with?

2006-09-11T22:03:00.000-04:00

I know, I know. I've been a bad little blogger. But I have now simplified my life by resigning from a group blog so I can focus on this, on the addition to our house that is proceeding at glacial speed, on training for the marathon, on new responsibilities at work, and...oh yeah...on a four-year-old that seems to occupy just about every waking moment.

It's as Elizabeth says over at Half Changed World - I'm not perfect at anything, but then again I'm not really trying to be.

Also, I'm intrigued by LPF's 101 things in 1001 days effort. I guess if I were to tackle such a thing, item #1 would be to come up with a list. Sometimes I feel like I'm doing so much in the present at the expense of planning for the future.

Right now I have to go amend the electrical plan for our addition so we have enough plugs and the right types of switches in the right places. Sometimes my evenings are so sexy and exciting, I just can't stand it.

New YouTube idea

2006-09-11T22:01:00.000-04:00

It came to me as we were heading out to work on a bright but somewhat foggy morning. We saw three guys walking towards us in the street with four dogs in tow:

Reservoir Dog Walkers.

Seriously. If someone can make a funny YouTube a short on that, I'd totally send it to everyone I know.

One sign we may drink too much

2006-04-14T21:03:00.000-04:00

Tonight, we went out for our usual Friday night restaurant outing. It was a nice day, so we decided to go to a local Irish pub and sit outside on the patio. About halfway through our meal, our daughter - out of the blue - asked us: "What does BYOB spell?"

Turns out she got it from the movie "A Bug's Life." But still...

A matter of perspective

2006-03-17T22:29:00.000-05:00

There are certain things in this world that I didn't understand before I had kids. Child leashes, for one (not that I would ever put DOM on one, but I sure as heck understand the sentiment now). Scrapbooking. And, as a person who dabbles in both environmental and urban design issues, I really did not approve of drive through windows. They take people off the street (a detriment to the vitality of a city) and contribute to more polluting vehicle exhaust emissions. However, since DOM has come into my life, I've found myself growing irrationally fond of the drive through ATM near our house, pay-at-the-pump gas stations, and drive through coffee shops. Because if you are just trying to make a quick stop to get some money, fill up the car with gas, pick up your dry cleaning, or grab a quick iced grande vanilla skim latte, the very last thing you want to do is park, unbuckle your child from her car seat, coax her out of the car, complete your five-minute errand, coax the child back into her seat, rebuckle the belts, and collapse exhausted into the driver seat after a two-minute errand has turned into a 30-minute stop complete with two meltdowns and a running "don't touch that" commentary track.

Erma's ghost

2006-03-15T14:09:00.000-05:00

I have been a huge fan of Erma Bombeck ever since I was a teenager. How unhip is that? But I'm a sucker for humor in all its forms, and she was laugh-out-loud funny on so many levels. However, now that I'm a mom, I find myself not only appreciating her writing on a whole new level, but also recalling bits and pieces in the course of each day. For example, when I drive past a cemetary near our house, I remember her talking about finding a house with the perfect neighbors -- but that there aren't too many houses between two cemetaries.

Today I was reminded of this gem: "There is nothing more miserable in the world than to arrive in paradise and look like your passport photo." Eight days to Paris, one more magazine to get out before then. Looking like my passport photo will be a step up.

Expect the unexpected

2006-01-24T15:09:00.000-05:00

At the risk of this turning into a Bill Cosby-esque "Kids Say the Darndest Things" post, I had to share the following transcript from a conversation this morning:

Daughter: "Is Buzz [Lightyear] wearing his ice clothes?"
MOM: "It's called a spacesuit, honey. It protects him from heat as well as ice."
D: "But he needs his ice clothes to fly."
M: "I'm not sure what you're talking about, honey. His spacesuit has wings."
D: "But he told Woody in the movie that he can fly across the room with his ice clothes."
(MOM pauses and thinks for a moment)
M: "Do you mean with his EYES CLOSED?"
D: "Yeah, mama. With his ice clothes!"
(MOM nearly steers car into light pole while laughing.)

Tough love

2006-01-18T20:57:00.000-05:00

Sometimes we all wake up on the wrong side of the bed, but when a 3-1/2-year-old girl wakes up on said wrong side after a couple of nights of sleep deficit, making it through the day is like navigating a minefield. You never know what's going to make her blow.

The sleep deficit comes from her newfound realization that she can get out of bed with her flashlight, find books and toys in her room, and stay up until 10 or 11 playing. Now, we thought it was just a one-night thing (poor, misguided souls that we are) and let her have the flashlight again the next night. Surprise, surprise -- it happened again. So, tonight -- after meltdowns that occurred over getting out of bed, getting dressed, not being able to change tutus, not being able to eat dinner downstairs in front of the TV (where did THAT come from?), having to rinse off after her bubble bath, and not being able to select War & Peace as her bedtime book -- she has been put to bed sans flashlight in the hopes that maybe she will be asleep before we watch the episode of West Wing we TiVoed over the weekend.

We're trying to teach her that actions have consequences, but it's not a lesson she wants to learn.

Through the looking glass

2006-01-17T20:41:00.000-05:00

I encourage everyone (yes, all three of you) to head on over to Blog Mommy Blog and read mom2zayna's post on the difficulty of raising girls in today's world. I could have written her post (and, in fact, have written on the topic before), but she said it thoroughly and eloquently.

On dreams and reality

2006-01-07T14:15:00.000-05:00

I've had a variation of the same bad dream for years now. I'm headed to the airport to go to Paris, running late for my flight, and realize as I'm about to check in that I've forgotten my passport, and I don't have time to go back home and get it. There's probably some big underlying reason for these dreams that is rooted with in my subconcious about insecurity or feelings of being unprepared for work, parenthood, life. However, I just think it means I really, really want to go to Paris. Once I dreamt that I was actually there, standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, and I couldn't believe it and broke into tears of joy.

It's not that I'm untraveled. I've been all over Italy and Switzerland; to Prague, Budapest, Bratislava, and Vienna; to London, Mexico, and the Carribbean. I've just never been to Paris. This is especially galling as I attended a French school for five years and took eight years of French classes.

However, this is a roundabout way to say WE BOUGHT TICKETS TO PARIS YESTERDAY! I am FINALLY getting to go!! It's our tenth anniversary, we've found someone to take care of the little girl for a week, and we have a hotel that is actually somewhat affordable in the center of the city. It's like a dream come true...except for the passport thing. And, yes, I'm such a basket case that I actually have already checked our passports to make sure a) I knew where they were, and b) that they weren't expired.

So, I am off to resume my floating five feet off the ground. I will soon return to my regularly scheduled angst.

On being a domestic lesser deity

2005-12-20T21:54:00.000-05:00

The last several days have been a flurry of baking, fudge making, present wrapping, and gift card creating. Martha Stewart - watch out!

I'm actually exhausted from all this holiday cheer. But most of the gifts are bought, I only have about 40 or so left to wrap, and no matter what does or doesn't happen, it's all over in a week. If only I didn't have this morning's traveshamockery trying to get a parking ticket dismissed. Let me tell you, I'm a big fan of government. I've worked for government, I've worked with government. But sometimes, as in the case of a certain administrator at adjudication services, government at it's most local incarnation is frightening to behold. After watching two brilliant specimens ahead of me get their tickets dismissed (actual excuses: "I didn't know I had to get a permit" and "I wasn't parked in a handicapped space"), whereas I, with a specific citation of the city's code and a copy of a ticket dismissal that another person received in a similar situation, was denied. I believe that said administrative judge took an instant dislike to me based on my nice clothing and suburban address. Or perhaps she hates Volkswagen drivers. Either way, I've been doing a slow burn all day long.

Now if only I can get this freakin' cat off my lap so I can get to bed!

When to cut and run

2005-12-18T21:17:00.000-05:00

I have been pondering the question of how to tell when to support a friend going through a bad time and when a friendship is too much trouble to be worth it. I have been friends with a very intelligent, passionate person for the past decade. She has always had emotional problems that are (mostly) controlled by medication, but every once in a while something sends her into a deep funk, where she proceeds to lash out at anyone and everyone close to her. She has just returned to town from a long stint overseas, and I haven't really been the best of friends. It's a combination of factors, but mostly it comes down to being in two very different places in our lives, with vastly divergent priorities.

On Friday, I received an email from her, lambasting me for not calling her and complaining that she's really having problems and she's not getting any support from her friends. Normally, this would send me running to the phone to call her to make sure she's OK, but this time it just made me mad. VERY mad. Because it's not the first time she's sent me one of those accusatory "you're not a good friend" emails because it has been a while since we've corresponded. It's not like she has been trying to get in touch with me, and a friendship works two ways. I've told her before, "if you want to chat, email or call and I'll respond." But I haven't heard from her in months, and I'm the one not being supportive. She sent an apologetic email an hour later, but I'm still not sure when (or if) I'm going to respond.

On the happy side, my best friend showed me what patience can bring - she (finally) got engaged to her boyfriend of eight years! He asked her last night, during her birthday party, in front of the whole crowd. Down on one knee, ring in the box, the whole nine yards. I was so incredibly happy for her, and so incredibly touched by the romance, that I was in tears. It's something she has wanted for a long time now, and it is a joyous way to start the holiday season.

Special Thursday linkage

2005-12-15T09:33:00.000-05:00

This just couldn't wait until Monday: Cute Overload! (via Wonkette)

Calling all supermoms

2005-12-14T22:22:00.000-05:00

Working Mother magazine is looking for nominations for their 2006 working mother of the year awards. From their email:

Tell us about a gutsy go-getter, still new to the working world. Or an invigorating icon who’s been there and done that—beautifully. Or a role model who:

Inspires and motivates others
Balances work and family successfully
Gives back to her community
Leads at work
Overcomes obstacles
Carves out new territory at home and at work

That's quite a skill set there...I can't wait to see who they find. In the meantime, if you know anyone who fits the bill, the application is available online at www.workingmother.com/wmawards.html.

Monday miscellania: eh-dyu-kay-shun edition

2005-12-12T20:51:00.000-05:00

Howdy loyal readers! Less than two weeks until Christmas and Hanukkah...is your shopping done yet? Mine neither. It's Monday, so let's get it started:

* I only wish this were a joke.

* They like me! They really, really like me!

* Tomorrow night is the grand finale of the cromulent "family edition" of The Amazing Race. Dear Bertram Von Munster: I have watched this season only because of loyalty. Please do not mess with my favorite show again. If it weren't for the episodes of TAR5 I have squirreled away on my TiVo ("My ox is BROKEN!"), I don't know whether I would be able to survive TAR:FE.

* Scarlett, Scarlett, Scarlett. Why, oh why must you abuse your assets like this?

* RIP, Wendie Jo Sperber. I was a big Bosom Buddies fan growing up. Please, people, give generously to the fight against breast cancer.

* Last time, I promise. (And, no, I was not the female fan referenced.)

That's all for now - have a great weekend!

Coach mom

2005-12-06T21:18:00.000-05:00

A coworker decided to put together an office team for a huge 10-mile race we have each spring. I, of course, said I'd be on the team, and then let it slip that I used to help coach a beginning runners training group for this race. She then broadcast this salient fact to the entire office, and guess what? I'm now coaching four beginning runners! I think it's great. In addition, I'm still helping out with the other beginning runners group.

The first question most people ask (other than "Can I really run ten miles in 13 weeks?") is how I manage to find the time to run. I tell them that there is no easy answer. I wake up early (at 5:30) to go running, because I know that I *never* feel like it after work. In order to wake up that early on a regular basis, I have a couple of amazing running partners who meet me at that ridiculously early hour. I figure that if they're out there waiting for me, the least I can do is to show up.

How do you find a partner? I found mine through my local Connectors group (which has seen a serious decline in participation over the past couple of years). One of the absolute best resources for meeting up with like-minded women is See MOMMY Run, which has taken off like a lighting bolt since its inception in July 2004. Many local running clubs also have various ways for members to find training partners.

Training for the April 2 race begins January 2nd. I'll keep you all (OK, all three of you) posted on the progress of my various charges.

Monday miscellania: day late, dollar short

2005-12-06T20:04:00.000-05:00

Since I spent much of last night rearranging the furniture to accommodate our Christmas tree, I'm a little behind on my Monday linkage.

* By far the best thing I've found online this week is Doppleganger's discussion of parenting books over at 50 Books. The comments on the post are particularly hysterical, especially the explanation of Tether Parenting(TM) - of which it seems I am a devotee.

* Sunday's desperate Housewives struck a nerve with me. Lynette's run-in with her boss's wife, particularly her response to the comment about why she had kids if she wasn't planning on raising them (i.e. was working outside of the home). Her response was, "I work because my family needs me to." What about those moms who work because they WANT to? Add to that the fact that the situation was wrapped up fairly quickly in a neat little bow struck me as rather trite and superficial. But do I really expect realism from a show where a woman lets her ex-boyfriend overdose after she found out he tampered with her dead husband's medication, leading to his death?

* Christmas Mondegreens from Snopes! (Via Pop Culture Junk Mail) I will never forgive a former coworker for pointing out some of the mondegreens in the Messiah. Every time I hear "All we like sheep..." I can only think, "And we like sheep..."

* Curbed ponders appropriate Christmas tips. My wallet hurts.

* Yep. Still muy caliente.

Of shoes, ships, sealing wax, cabbages, and strings

2005-11-30T14:26:00.000-05:00

Watching the repeat of Monday's Colbert Report last night, I was intrigued by the interview with Brian Greene, author of a book about String Theory and a guy who is approximately 248 times smarter than I. I had heard the term string theory bandied about, but never really understood what it was about. After last night's viewing...I'm still not so sure what it's about, but it is a very cool concept. Even after reading so-called "basic" explanations about the theory, I'm still in the dark. But, if I am interpreting correctly, most string theories are based on a belief there are 10 dimensions. Last night, Greene said that there could be 10 different versions of ourselves in 10 different versions of the world. If that is the case, I'm guessing at least three of me are currently sucking down a martini at any particular point in time.

(As an aside, I'm beginning to love the Colbert Report - still not quite as much as the Daily Show in that I devote valuable and dwindling TiVo space to it, but enough so that if it is on and I have the time, I watch it. This episode managed to expertly skewer the Administration's so-called rationale for staying in Iraq AND the inherent ridiculousness of teaching intelligent design in science class. As an aside to this aside, I am incredulous about this Administration's craptacular "Strategy for Victory in Iraq": Long-term victory will occur when the country is "peaceful, united, stable, and secure, well integrated into the international community, and a full partner in the global war on terrorism" and the U.S. would not withdraw from Iraq until victory had been achieved, which by this yardstick and at the current pace of improvement should occur...oh, roughly around the year 2041.)

Ahem...sorry about that...where was I?

Oh yes, string theory. It's cool.

On a totally unrelated note (or perhaps one that is related in a different dimension), one mom posted a very interesting question today to a working mom's listserv to which I subscribe. She asked how women dealt with shifting priorities that occurs when your child is born. Many moms who keep working by choice (and even some who keep working by necessity) I think are ones who largely defined themselves by career success before children. I know that it is a question I've had to deal with myself, and it is something that I'm thinking about a lot nowadays. I think it's not just a change in priorities, but really a change in weltanschauung (my favorite word auf Deutsch). I've always had a drive to do something distinctive with my life - to achieve a level of greatness. That is, perhaps, why I never really understood why my husband was so happy doing a job that was "just a job." (On the flip side, he doesn't really understand my drive to devote so much time and energy to work.) When my daughter was born, my focus shifted away from the career and my achievements and toward the family. I've been working fewer hours, focusing less on work, and spending more time with family. However, I've been increasingly anxious and unsettled recently, and I couldn't figure out why. But last night it hit me - I felt like I should be doing something bigger. What that something is, I don't know. Writing a book, starting an insanely successful business, laying the groundwork for future glory. During my daughter's first year, I didn't really have that issue, because I was training for my first marathon. The question is: now what?

It's funny what happens when an epiphany hits. A lot of things become clear, but many others make you want to slap yourself in the forehead and say, "DUH!" Visiting some relatives a couple of weeks ago, I was talking about some stress my father was going through, and how he had this all-consuming drive to get one of his books published and see moderate success in his lifetime. Now, he was (still is) a brilliant architect, with some incredible testaments to his talent scattered across the globe. But I think that publishing a successful book is now his benchmark and how he believes he will achieve his legacy, and it is very difficult and draining for him to keep falling short of that goal. I understand where he is coming from, because I realize that I am like him in more ways than I care to admit. It just took me a few more weeks and some quality couch time to realize it.

Monday miscellania: horizontal blogging edition

2005-11-28T20:58:00.000-05:00

OK, it's Monday and I'm flat on my back (doctor says it's just a sprain, thank goodness)...let's see what the 'net has for us today.

* I can't believe it's not Butterstick.

* Lisa Brown has a great proposal over at McSweeneys. I, too, have always been an admirer of Auntie Mame's parenting skills. Come to think of it, I also was a great admirer of Holly Gollightly and Nick and Nora Charles. I guess that makes me a lush?

* The Amazing Race: Family Edition is nearing the end, with all the excitement of a trip to the mall and none of the danger.

* Runner's World continues its long tradition of stating the obvious.

* Oh yeah, and Patrick Dempsey is still hot.

Karma lives

2005-11-27T19:36:00.000-05:00

...and not just on "My Name is Earl." After weeks of resentment and bitching (on my part) about how difficult it is to deal with a husband whose back goes out, guess what happened on Saturday? Yep. Back completely out. For those of you who haven't yet experinced this particular brand of hell on earth, let me tell you that it is unimaginable how much it hurts to do the slightest thing. So, the roles have been reversed for the last few days. Frankly, this is a pair of shoes I'd rather not ever have to walk in again.

All I want to know now is when I can go back to yoga class.

Panda parenting

2005-11-22T09:30:00.000-05:00

I, like many others, have become horrendously addicted to the PandaCam at Washington D.C.'s National Zoo. In particular, some of the baby panda antics are probably familiar to human mothers as well, specifically this tidbit from November 19:

This morning, the 19-week old Tai Shan has been very active. He's climbing up and down the ledge in the den, and using his mom as a jungle gym. He's been climbing on her while she tries to sleep, then sliding off. While on top of her, he's also been wrestling with and chewing on her shoulder. Tai Shan continues to explore and mouth bamboo, actively pulling pieces to his mouth, but he doesn't seem yet to know what more to do with it.

Statistics will probably show that the birth of Butterstick was probably
the starting point for a significant drop in productivity for the American workforce, but he's just too darn cute to resist. I mean, check out the picture above!

Monday miscellania

2005-11-21T20:59:00.000-05:00

* Just out of curiosity today, I googled "running blogs" to see what was out there. I don't know why I was surprised, but - wow. It will be interesting to see what is pure narcissism (like, say, this blog), and what has actual helpful content. I had to skip this morning's run because of...well, let's say female troubles...I wonder if any of the blogs have solutions fot THAT.

* The Census Bureau recently released three reports pertaining to mothers. What I find particularly interesting, 57 percent of new mothers worked full-time during their pregnancy in the late 1990s and 2000, up from 40 percent in the early 1960s. The full report draws some interesting correllations between enactment of the child care tax credit, the rise in births to women over the age of 30, and the family and medical leave act to this rise in employment levels.

* Transplanted Lawyer has an interesting play penned by A.A. Milne (of Winnie the Pooh fame). It is a parable that speaks volumes of the lengths people will go to preserve their own illusions, rather than question their beliefs - a subject with particular resonance in this day and age.

* Sars has posted another very funny screed about her cats over at Tomato Nation. Further proof that although most felines have their own personalities and idiosyncracies, there are some universal elements of cattitude.

* Wendy, over at Pound, has a great reason why the pharmacists at Target might be unwilling to dispense Plan B.

* Here's why I stay up late now on Sunday nights.

* At the end of yoga class today, the instructor asked us to focus on something or someone that we are particularly thankful for. Answering "my family" was a reflex, but later on I began to think about why. The ultimate reason is that my husband and daughter have taught me just how endless the human heart can be.

And on that sappy note, good night to you all.

What we do for our kids

2005-11-20T15:00:00.000-05:00

'Twas a day to end all days. A birthday party at the zoo this morning and a kids' music festival at a local nightclub in the afternoon. Five hours on my feet, lots of kid-wrangling, and total body exhaustion. It's a feeling not unlike how I felt at the end of my first marathon, minus the chafing.

The zoo was a lot of fun - a great place for a kid's birthday party. They provide goodie bags, a guided tour of some of the animal exhibits, and a fully set-up room. I'm a big fan of the birthday party made easy route. The concert? Well, it was the fifth circle of hell. Imagine a club that holds 1,200 people. Now pack roughly twice that in the room (or at least that's what it seemed like). Each family had roughly 24 inches of space, so DOM spent the majority of the show sitting on my shoulders. Throw in some costumed performers and the closest thing to the Beatles in kid's music, no lunch, and a start time that coincided with nap time, and you have a recipe for disaster. We left early.

However, one thing I found is that all the yoga and running I have been doing has really helped. I don't think I could have lasted as long as I did on my feet and with her on my shoulders without regular yoga (a great shoulder/back/neck strengthener) and without my runs. I just have to remember that at 5:30 Monday morning.

A half to remember

2005-11-17T21:53:00.000-05:00

I just got the flyer yesterday for my favorite half-marathon, the Kentucky Derby Festival Mini-marathon. I've run it the past two years, and can't say enough about how well the race is run, how much fun the course is, and how I have beat my own expectations each year. The course is about perfect for a race -- it starts out with three miles of flat, then gives three miles of rolling hills through a beautiful park, followed by a long downhill and a flat-as-a-pancake trip into downtown Louisville for the finish.

The half-marathon runners share the course with the marathoners for the first 11 miles. (MarathonGuide.com has people's comments about the full marathon.) I am by no means a speed demon, so I get to see some of the more colorful characters along the course, my favorite being the Running Elvi. But, best of all, both years I had the distinct pleasure of being passed at the very end by the eventual winner of the full marathon. Believe it or not, I thought that was way cool.

Unfortunately, I won't be able to run the race in 2006 because I'll be in Paris for my 10th wedding anniversary. I know, a girl's gotta make sacrifices.

Bipolar weather

2005-11-17T10:13:00.000-05:00

Yesterday morning's run went well. Or, as well as it could, as I dragged my aching body through the pre-dawn half-light (I thought yoga was supposed to make you feel BETTER). It was 64 degrees - shorts and t-shirt weather - and quite pleasant. My running partner and I put in our three miles with all of our body parts still attached. However, tomorrow is another thing all together. As of right now, the forecast is for temps in the 20s. So, we've gone from southern California to International Falls in just two short days. As an asthma sufferer, I'm guessing tomorrow will be a challenge to my lungs. As a person who truly dislikes cold weather, tomorrow will be a challenge to my body. And, as someone who truly values her sleep, tomorrow will (as always) be a challenge to my brain.

The trick to being a "serious" runner is not what you do on the nice days. It's what you do on the really crappy ones instead. At least, that's what I tell myself.

Time to despam

2005-10-23T21:39:00.000-04:00

Just wanted to warn my regular readers (all three of you) that I've had to turn word verification on for comments because I'm starting to get comment spam. Sorry for the extra step -- blame all the spam monkeys out there.

Back to your regularly scheduled rantings.

What stage is it today?

2005-10-21T20:18:00.000-04:00

Ever since DOM turned 3, she's been maturing by leaps and bounds. But I think this new maturity is freaking her out - because it certainly is freaking ME out - and causing her to act out in ways that I didn't think possible in someone not yet a teenager. Thankfully, she hasn't stormed out of the house and driven my car into a tree, but that may be on her agenda for next week.

First up - the why stage. Every question, request, comment, observation, and order was met by the "why" question. Answers were met by the "why" question. Things that don't necessarily lend themselves to the "why" question were met by it. It's cute...the first 20 or 30 times. After that, I had to start resorting to the old parenting standby, "Because I said so."

This past two weeks, we've been in the fighting bedtime stage. Now, DOM was not a good sleeper the first year of her life - in fact, she didn't sleep through the night until she was 8 months old. The only way I could put her down was to feed her and hold her and rock her until she was just about asleep, and then try to gently lay her down in her crib without waking her up and get the hell out of her room. Once she turned about a year, she became a champion sleeper - put her in her crib and she would play for a bit and then fall asleep. She even did well when we transitioned her to a "big girl" bed. But now...every night is a battle. So, Mr. MOM and I have worked our way through the various parenting book recommendations. Go in and comfort her? Didn't work. Let her cry it out? Man, that child has stamina. Take away privileges? Left no impression. Take away stuffed animals? That led us back to the cry it out thing. Put up a sticker chart for a reward system? She lost her sticker the first night. We're at the end of our rope, and she's exhausted because she's not going to sleep until 9:30 or 10:00.

My only comfort is knowing that this, like all other things I never thought would end (*cough*potty training*cough*), is probably only a stage. But, frankly, I'm a little afraid to find out what she has in store for us next.

Things I learned last weekend

2005-10-21T14:45:00.000-04:00

#1 -- It's good to get away from parenthood, even if it's just for a little while.

#2 -- If you are planning on putting a temporary tattoo of a school mascot/logo on your face for a football tailgate and game, be sure to put sunscreen on first.

Big changes, all at once

2005-08-25T21:36:00.000-04:00

DOM turned three this past Monday. After a year of parenting a two-year-old - and, quite honestly, a year I was afraid would never end - I have on my hands a full-blown three-year-old. In the past few weeks, perhaps sensing the importance of the upcoming birthday, when many toys heretofore deemed unsafe for her little hands are now squarely in her demographic, she made some great strides in development. Most importantly - she is finally, blessedly potty trained.

It's strange how it all happened, almost as though someone flipped a switch. A friend of mine says that the ages 4-11 are parental nirvana, and I can see that starting to happen. She can recognize many letters, and knows the sounds they make. She can entertain herself with toys for increasing periods of time. She can count to "twenty-ten" (the number after 29), as long as you don't care about that pesky number 16. She can swim in the pool with water wings on. But all is not milk and honey. She can still throw a tantrum at the drop of the hat, and many of these new skills and abilities are freaking her out, so she likes to regress at times and have me do things for her that I know she can do herself.

But I have seen the light at the end of the tunnel. She has moved from baby to kid. And, frankly, I'm enjoying more than I ever thought I would.

A question for the masses

2005-08-25T15:44:00.000-04:00

Is it inevitable that once the shine of a new job wears off, it's not going to be fun anymore? I ask because I have a job that, on paper, is perfect for me. But sometimes the day-to-day drudgery, the details, the annoyances make me long for something else. What that something is, I don't know. How can a person find THE career he or she is made for? Is there such a thing as the perfect job?

Wow, a month

2005-06-30T17:52:00.000-04:00

OK. Where have I been for the past month? No excuse really. I've been working from home, and it has been rather slow, but I've felt guilty doing non-work-related work in the fear that they might "catch" me slacking off (whereas I have no guilt whatsoever about doing non-work-related work in the office). I've been planning our summer vacation. I've been planning DOM's third birthday party and over-analyzing the invitation list. I've been visiting places that have many ways of separating your money from your wallet. I've been working with an architect on the plans for remodeling our house. I've been running, though not as much as I did in the spring. I've been going to yoga, though not as much as I did in the spring. In all, it's a typical summer in the MOM household.

Glad I'm not a whale

2005-06-30T17:42:00.000-04:00

I heard a story on All Things Considered this afternoon that baby Orca whales and baby bottlenose dolphins do not sleep at all in their first year of life, and neither do their mothers. (Story kicker? Their fathers' sleep patterns don't change.) Researchers think it may be because they are born into ice cold water with relatively little blubber, and also have to swim constantly to keep away from predators. It is amazing how animals (including humans) have adapted over the years...and even over the months. I remember (or, to be more accurate, I DON'T remember) that during the first month or so of DOM's existence I was bone tired, despondent, and barely functional. However, as the months wore on, I actually got used to waking up several times a night. Of course, now that I've been able to sleep through the night for a couple of years, the thought of regular night wakings sends a shudder down my spine - now one of the many reasons DOM will not be joined by a sibling.

Twisted, I am

2005-05-24T14:59:00.000-04:00

I don't know why, but...snerk...

Bunny suicides

The line between acceptable and insulting?

2005-05-23T21:51:00.000-04:00

I realize that children don't understand what an insult is. Especially not children under three years of age. But I had to take exception to something that DOM said this evening. As background, we've been trying (mostly unsuccessfully) to potty train her for the past several months (3, 4, 5, 6 months...it all is a giant blur right now). As part of that effort, she has accompanied me to the potty on numerous occasions, so she can see what "big girls" do in the potty. So, today at a restaurant, she came with me to the bathroom, entered the stall, and proceeded to watch me do my business. After a minute of idle chatter, she looked at me, and said, "You have a big bottom, mama!" Gee, thanks kid.

Happy Mother's Day!

2005-05-08T17:58:00.000-04:00

It's almost 6:00 p.m. on Mother's Day and I've finally had a chance to sit down and relax. It's my third Mother's Day with DOM, and I'm still not sure what the day is all about. Mr. MOM says it's a day to spend time with my daughter, my mom says it's a day to spend time with her, and all I want to do is to spend time with a good book and a long hot bath. There's a nagging part of me that tells me such feelings are me being a bad mother. I wish I could ignore them, so I'm taking my usual tack - doing everything, but doing it all half-assed.

This morning I took DOM to a rockin' Ralph's World concert at a local club. This afternoon I had DOM's favorite babysitter come over so I could go to Mr. MOM's choral concert. And now I've parked her in front of a Dora DVD so I could sit down and relax for a little bit before going out to dinner.

Maybe next year I'll be able to escape to a spa for a half a day. At least the feelings of guilt will be drowned out by the whirlpool jets.

Happy Mother's Day to everyone who is a mother and to everyone who has a mother!

If every run felt like this...

2005-04-17T15:03:00.000-04:00

A week after one of my all-time worst runs, I threw down a doozy of a 12 miler. Five miles of killer hills, followed by seven miles of mostly flat terrain. And, you know what? I felt like I could have kept on going after it was all over. Today was one of those rare instances when everything comes together. I had a good week, with three midweek runs, one session of yoga, and overall healthy eating and water consumption. By no means was I a saint...an oyster po'boy on Friday and two glasses of wine with dinner last night. But this morning the weather was perfect...sunny and mid-40s. And, when I started to drag, I discovered the wonders of the double caffienated Power Gel (really, that stuff should be regulated by the FDA).

What was best about it was that when I got home, I didn't want to collapse. I was able to play with DOM and do her yoga video with her, and show her how to help me weed the yard. That never happened with my marathon training a couple of years ago. Perhaps it was the Power Gel, or maybe it was just being in better shape, but for the first time in a long time, I really think I can train for another marathon and perhaps it won't take as much time away from my family as it did last time. It was the perfect antidote to long run burnout. And I sure can use a few more days like this.

Some things just can't be scripted

2005-03-17T14:03:00.000-05:00

Had to share this with someone...

I recently finished a post on elephants for another blog to which I contribute. I saved the post, closed out, and went to open up the next story I need to edit for work. The first line of this next story?

How do you eat an elephant?

Eeewwww.

Speaking of which, who saw The Amazing Race on Tuesday night? Yuck! I hate when they do that to my favorite show. If I wanted to watch people make themselves ill eating gross stuff, I would watch Fear Factor or Survivor. Enough with the eating challenges!

Been there, done that

2005-03-16T22:06:00.000-05:00

When DOM was a wee little tot, I spent 8 months doing middle-of-the-night visits to feed/soothe/entertain her. The one song that would always put her to sleep was the Brahms Lullaby. The only problem? I didn't actually know the lyrics. Now I know I wasn't the only person to make up my own...and I was decidedly less creative than others.

Sing me to sleep (Defective Yeti, via Daddy Types)

Benign neglect

2005-03-16T21:51:00.000-05:00

Yeah. It has been a while. Work has been busy, Blogger has been having technical difficulties, and other volunteer commitments are all asking for their pound of flesh. In other words, just another month of being a mom.

I've been wondering about the different roles that mothers carve out for themselves. I think that I've had this monolithic image of what a "mom" is and I think that so much of what I've been doing over the past 2+ years has been rebelling against that very image. In much the same way that I have come to the realization that (*gasp*) my mother had a life before me and had a life outside of me, I also have realized that there are many different types of mothers and ways of mothering.

The trick is to do what makes me and DOM and Mr. MOM happy. The rest, be damned.

I love it when others do my work for me

2005-02-25T09:38:00.000-05:00

Here I was, berating myself for not posting more often, and then this drops into my lap.

Gizoogle - Sizearch For Shiznit

Have a great weekend, everyone!

A moment of silence

2005-02-22T14:17:00.000-05:00

R.I.P., Hunter S. Thompson. You were a true original. The afterlife just got a whole lot more interesting.

What's in a name?

2005-02-16T11:34:00.000-05:00

Thanks to the Daddy Types blog, I found yet another way to ignore the looming deadlines at work: The Baby Name Wizard. Developed by Laura Wattenberg, a self-described "writer, researcher, software designer, and mother," the blog grew out of her book of the same name, which she researched and wrote when frustrated in her own search for a name for her child. In her words:

The Baby Name Wizard is the result of my years of research into name trends across the country and around the world. I built a computer database of thousands of names, tracking popularity, ethnic origins, cultural references, and dozens of other subtle cues that help shape each name's unique image. From soap opera cast lists to Ivy League alumni rosters, I built a complete portrait of America's naming style. Then I used that data to create computer models to help guide parents' choices.

One incredibly interesting link on the site is to the Name Voyager (requires Java). Type in a name (or part of a name) at the top, and it will show you the usage trends from the 1900s to 2003. I typed in DOM's name, which (with our spelling) never has been hugely popular, but has had a substantial following over the years. Interestingly enough, the usage bottomed out to zero right around the time I was born, and then rebounded.

The end result is that I feel pretty good about the name we chose for DOM. We wanted her to have a name that was common enough so that people knew how to pronounce it at first glance, but rarely used enough so that she wouldn't have to go through life with her last initial tacked on to differentiate herself from her similarly-named classmates.

The non-answer answer

2005-02-14T14:07:00.000-05:00

Just had to share the response I received from the Department of Education to my email missive. I guess they were so proud of their answer that they felt they had to send it three times (check out the time stamps).

Response (Matt Schneer) - 02/14/2005 12:33 PM
Thank you for taking the time to contact us regarding Secretary Spellings’ concerns with the Department of Education’s cooperative agreement with the Public Broadcasting Service (PBS) and the Postcards from Buster episode, “Sugartime!”

Secretary Spellings stands by the concerns she shared with PBS President Pat Mitchell. The cooperative agreement the Department of Education has with PBS is to support programs that are designed to prepare preschool and elementary-age children for school. A principal focus of the law that authorizes funding for the Ready-To-Learn program, is to facilitate student academic achievement.

Again, thank you for taking the time to contact the Department. We appreciate your comments.

Sincerely,

U.S. Department of Education

Response (Matt Schneer) - 02/14/2005 12:31 PM
Thank you for taking the time to contact us regarding Secretary Spellings’ concerns with the Department of Education’s cooperative agreement with the Public Broadcasting Service (PBS) and the Postcards from Buster episode, “Sugartime!”

Secretary Spellings stands by the concerns she shared with PBS President Pat Mitchell. The cooperative agreement the Department of Education has with PBS is to support programs that are designed to prepare preschool and elementary-age children for school. A principal focus of the law that authorizes funding for the Ready-To-Learn program, is to facilitate student academic achievement.

Again, thank you for taking the time to contact the Department. We appreciate your comments.

Sincerely,

U.S. Department of Education

Response (Matt Schneer) - 02/14/2005 12:30 PM
Thank you for taking the time to contact us regarding Secretary Spellings’ concerns with the Department of Education’s cooperative agreement with the Public Broadcasting Service (PBS) and the Postcards from Buster episode, “Sugartime!”

Secretary Spellings stands by the concerns she shared with PBS President Pat Mitchell. The cooperative agreement the Department of Education has with PBS is to support programs that are designed to prepare preschool and elementary-age children for school. A principal focus of the law that authorizes funding for the Ready-To-Learn program, is to facilitate student academic achievement.

Again, thank you for taking the time to contact the Department. We appreciate your comments.

Sincerely,

U.S. Department of Education

Your government at work.

Productivity, my a**

2005-02-14T13:34:00.000-05:00

It is a cold, rainy day here, the kind of day that makes you want to curl up at home with a cup of hot chocolate and a good book. However, it being a Monday, it is supposed to be a day of hard and industrious work. This morning, after a night featuring a stunning five wake up calls from my darling DOM (something that we - thankfully - rarely have to deal with any more), I decided to compromise and work from home today.

On the surface, it seemed like a good idea. I wouldn't have to go out into the rain and cold, I could edit a whole bunch of articles that have come in over the past couple of weeks without constant interruptions by a barrage of phone calls from over-caffienated PR reps, and I could work in clothes that make my old pajamas look stylish. (Happy Valentine's Day to you, too, honey.)

The good news is that I haven't had to go out into the cold ick except to check the mailbox. The bad news is that when you are sitting on the couch, editing a rather long and dry article after a much-interrupted night's sleep, chances are that you will take an unplanned nap. Now I am sitting at my dining room table, separated from my pile of half-edited articles and my 24-ounce bottle of diet coke by one floor and 14 pounds of immovable sleeping cat on my lap. Any attempt to shift into a position that actually resembles something comfortable (or get my papers or answer the telephone) results in a series of hostile stares, frenetic clawing, and an implied threat that my new pashmina scarf will become a chew toy.

I'm still getting more done here than in the office.

And...

2005-02-08T17:08:00.000-05:00

For when DOM gets a little older.

McSweeney's Internet Tendency: Seldom-Seen Lunchbox Notes From Mothers.

They're making fun of me

2005-02-08T17:03:00.000-05:00

The sad thing is...for a while this really could have been me. It still can, except for DOM's stubborn insistence on holding veto power over the outfits I choose. (It's a "pick your battles" kind of thing.)

Dress-Up Doll Born To Area Couple (The Onion)

...And censorship for all

2005-02-01T09:56:00.000-05:00

Well, it seems that today's teens think that the First Amendment goes too far. That the government has the right to censor the press. I'd like to chalk it up to immaturity, but I'm worried that it is yet another sign (registration req'd) that the educational system is going down the drain.

Why I am so self-absorbed

2005-01-31T15:58:00.000-05:00

My new favorite blog, Half Changed World, points out a recent New York Times article on blogging parents. I didn't realize that boring you all with my self-involved drivel was so...trendy. But, really, the value to me in reading the parent blogs of friends and strangers is to find that sense of community (you know, the whole "it takes a village" thing) that is difficult to come upon these days. There has been a ton written about how today it is becoming much less common for people to remain in their hometown or village from womb to tomb, and thus don't have the accumulated family knowledge to help them through difficult transitions (marriage, parenthood, etc.). Parent blogs allow us to form a community of peers - to share experiences, give and receive advice - that is difficult to do in our neighborhoods, with transient neighbors and busy lives. The blogging universe allows a place for parents to vent about the difficulties of being in charge of a living, unpredictable human being, but also to learn that you are not the first person experiencing the new and scary thoughts and feelings. And, sometimes, parents really need to laugh.

Not that it will amount to anything

2005-01-31T15:46:00.000-05:00

Just had to share with you the comment I sent to Education Secretary Margaret Stallings regarding the "Postcards from Buster" issue. I wonder what kind of response I will receive:

I have been following, with great concern, the recent flap over the Vermont episode of PBS's Postcards from Buster that the Secretary decided to weigh in on. As the parent of a 2-1/2-year-old girl who occasionally watches the show, I am not worried about the questions she will ask if she were to see a "two mom" family, but rather what I see as a growing trend of institutionalized discrimination against a certain subgroup of Americans who some "values oriented" segments of society deem shameful, or as second-class citizens.

Most preschoolers that I know wouldn't even think to ask why a child has two moms or two dads, any more than they would ask why there is only one parent (how to explain divorce?), or why the child is being raised by their grandparents (how to explain death?), or by foster parents (how to explain child protective services?). In most cases, a simple answer of "there are many kinds of families in this world, and in some there are two mommies, just like you have a mommy and a daddy." No need for discussion of sexual orientation, no need to get in to the details. Chances are, when they ask, they're not so interested in the reproductive aspect of the family, but rather in the emotional aspect.

I welcome the opportunity to have my child learn about the rich fabric of diverse families that make up our nation. I think it is the least we can do to raise children that not only tolerate, but embrace the most important part of being an American -- the freedom to be yourself.

Blog for thought

2005-01-28T14:55:00.000-05:00

I've added a new blog to my reading list (it's getting far too long...). Half Changed World has a lot of good things to say about motherhood, policy, and life. She's doing an interesting experiment right now to see if she can feed her family of four on the goverment's "Thrifty Food Plan" amount of $434.00 a month. Our monthly grocery total for a family of three? Much, much higher than that.

Just in case you had some spare time

2005-01-28T14:51:00.000-05:00

Now that I have found this, I officially can no longer get anything accomplished at work.

I think it's like asking for directions

2005-01-28T10:14:00.000-05:00

Why don't men like to go to the doctor?

Mr. MOM, who is usually a fairly rational person, is laid up in bed with back pain so bad he can't even sit up. But he refuses to call the doctor. And it's not getting better; it's getting worse. "Call the doctor," I said several times before leaving for work. "Mmmnnnghhhh," he replied. An hour after I got to work, I called him. "Did you call the doctor?" I asked. "No," he replied.

"Well, do it."

"What can he do?"

"I don't know. Give you pain medication, a muscle relaxer, tell you to lie on a heating pad, give you some exercises to help out. Something, instead of you just lying there in pain."

"Mmmmnnnggghhhh."

I swear, he wouldn't go to the doctor if his arm fell off. He would just pick it up and ask me if I could try sewing it back on. This is the same man who had chest pain for two days, and when it finally became bad and his jaw was hurting, he decided to look it up on the Internet. Which told him he was having a heart attack. So then and only then did he go to a medical professional.

I'll admit, I want him to go to the doctor and get better quickly for my own selfish reasons. I'm now doing his chores and my chores, and taking care of DOM, and taking care of him. But, most important, WE HAVE A BABYSITTER TONIGHT! If he doesn't get better, then there goes my dream of a leisurely meal and a real movie in a real movie theater. It doesn't happen that often, so when it does, I really, really look forward to it.

So maybe I'll call his doctor myself. It always seems to work with directions.

Just when I thought I couldn't get any angrier

2005-01-27T17:16:00.000-05:00

This makes me so freaking mad, I am ready to go ballistic. The so-called Department of Education deciding what is and isn't appropriate for *my* child to learn? THIS is yet another reason why I voted for (and gave money to) Kerry. Grrr.

PBS's 'Buster' Gets An Education (washingtonpost.com)

Children have gay parents. Children all around this country have gay parents. Having gay parents doesn't make them sexually confused. Exposing other children to families that have two mommies or two daddies (especially preschoolers, who by and large are children who have not yet learned about the birds and the bees) will not increase their confusion over gender roles or identities. The only thing it may do is show them that some families may be different than others, but as long as children are loved and nurtured and treated well, it doesn't make one whit of difference how many moms or dads are or aren't involved. Differences exist in this country, and by hiding them you are not only sending a message to your own child about worth in this society, you are also perpetuating an atmosphere of intolerance that is destroying the fabric of our nation. Perhaps I shouldn't let DOM visit any more "red states" - I'm afraid she'll pick up their narrowmindedness and intolerance.

(Please excuse this week's ranting and raving. I promise to be back to being nice, happy MOM once I get my Valium prescription refilled.)

This will come in handy at prom time

2005-01-26T21:32:00.000-05:00

During her bath tonight, DOM and I were playing "where's Blue" (as in Blue's Clues)? She looked down and said (quite clearly), "Blue is in my vagina!"

Don’t they have something better to do?

2005-01-26T09:49:00.000-05:00

The latest flap brought to you by the brilliant minds over at Focus on the Family is their criticism of Sponge Bob Square Pants for...ahem…promoting a gay agenda. SpongeBob, Barney, Winnie the Pooh, Bob the Builder, the Rugrats and other TV cartoon characters appear in a video singing "We Are Family," in a post-September 11 appeal to encourage tolerance. Apparently, the conservative Christian group takes exception to being asked to respect sexual identity. Because discrimination cloaked in the guise of religious beliefs isn't really discrimination, right?

Sponge Bob was singled out for particular disapproval because, in 2002, the media reported that the little yellow guy was popular among gays. But just because people – or cartoon characters – are popular among gays doesn't mean that they are gay themselves. I mean, Sponge Bob wears tighty whities...what self-respecting gay man would wear tighty whities? Nickelodeon’s comment: "It's a sponge, for crying out loud. He has no sexuality." And even if he were gay, it's not like he's french kissing Patrick on the show.

Now, DCist reports that PBS Kids' new Postcards from Buster show has come under fire for featuring a lesbian couple. Fox, in a recent rerun of the Family Guy (definitely not a children's show) pixilated an animated baby's bare bottom. At least the FCC (showing some balls for once) is not descending into this madness. In a recent ruling, the commission rejected a complaint against the Simpsons (also, admittedly not a children's show) for a show that included a scene in which students carried picket signs with the phrases "What would Jesus glue?" and "Don't cut off my pianissimo." (Fer cryin' out loud - they were protesting cuts in arts funding for the school, people!)

When Jerry Falwell decried Tinky Winky's gayness (OK, I'll give him that – Tinky Winky is referred to as a "he" but his favorite toy is a purse, and he sometimes wears a tutu – not that there's anything wrong with it), it was amusing. Now, it's part of a larger and more disturbing trend of discrimination and open hostility toward gay Americans. And anyway you look at it, there is something wrong with that.

A few words about the television conundrum

2005-01-12T21:17:00.000-05:00

I (heart) TiVo. I (heart) our HDTV. I plan my week around The Amazing Race (and faithfully read all the recaps at Television Without Pity - Miss Alli is da bomb). I have a subscription to Entertainment Weekly. I grew up on Captain Kangaroo, Looney Toons, Electric Company, and weekday afternoon reruns of the Brady Bunch and the Love Boat. So, is it so bad that I let my two-year-old child watch and hour or so of TV each day?

In my prime, or past it?

2005-01-12T20:55:00.000-05:00

I'll admit it - in recent days/weeks I had been feeling pretty smug about my position in life. I felt as though I finally got my bearings on toddler-raising, and was beginning to anticipate and defuse meltdowns about to surface. Work was under control, I was exercising regularly, and I even was becoming a frequent contributor to a group blog. Then it happened...the thing that crushed my self-confidence and ego under its giant foot, sending me spiraling down into a morass of self-pity. I learned that I, in my 34-1/2 years on this earth, am old.

Granted, the pronouncement wasn't directly aimed at me, but rather couched in the terms of some of the hot clubs attracting an "older crowd" - in their definition, those "pushing 30." Not only am I no longer pushing 30, 30 has turned around and is kicking my ass up the ladder towards 40. The funny thing is, though, that now I am no longer relevant to hip twentysomethings, I am newly relevant to coworkers and business world VIPs.

Two weeks ago, my office had a breakfast to meet the new chairman of our board. She was even so nice as to pretend to remember me from a previous job I had held three years ago. Afterwards, according to a report from an office VP, she commented that not only was she impressed that I had such a great job for someone so young (she called me "smart"), she also thought I was pretty (she called me "pretty"). It's good to have the chairman like you.

So, the opinion of a vapid twentysomething wannabe socialite, I may be old...but I like to think I'm just better.

Virginia residents: Ask this guy what he is thinking!

2005-01-07T11:34:00.000-05:00

One finds interesting - and frightening - things out in the blogosphere. For example, some nutjob legislator from Virginia thinks it's a good idea to heap additional emotional trauma on women undergoing a miscarriage. I beg of you, dear readers...if you live in Virginia, please seriously consider doing something to block this horrific piece of legislation!

It never ends

2005-01-07T10:18:00.000-05:00

Just when I was settling down and thinking that I was doing a pretty good job at this motherhood thing, I read this. A set of blocks like the ones that Frank Lloyd Wright used to play with...all for only $150! Why, it would be just criminal not to let DOM have the opportunity to become one of the most innovative and celebrated architects of her time! I think we should cut back on our necessities to make sure that no effort is spared in developing her nascent talents.

Boy, I can't wait until I can find these on eBay...

You know you're a mom when...(part 2)

2005-01-03T22:16:00.000-05:00

...it is perfectly normal to clean up a bathtub full of poop.

The spirit of the season

2004-12-28T08:27:00.000-05:00

I have heard people say that in order to understand the true meaning of the Christmas season, you have to see it through a child's eyes. This year I did. And the true meaning is...PRESENTS. Presents in all shapes and sizes, in pretty colors. Presents, presents, presents! At one point, my mother asked DOM whether she had received enough presents, and she said, "No! More presents!"

Three days later, I sit in a house strewn with toys and games and other child detritus, and wonder where I'm going to put it all. Maybe someone should have given her a toy storage bin as well.

You know you're a mom when...

2004-12-27T20:42:00.000-05:00

...you feel guilty eating baby spinach.

The life of leisure

2004-12-21T08:19:00.000-05:00

It's 8:15 a.m. on the Tuesday before Christmas and here I am, relaxing in bed. Ahh...the life of leisure. I just want to thank my daughter for being so thoughtful as to GIVE ME HER COLD, so I can lie here feeling crappy, emptying out the contents of a tissue box while coming dangerously close to deadlines at work, last minute shopping remains to be done, and my house has to be relatively clean for my parents' impending visit this weekend. Who says toddlers are selfish creatures? They share so well...

Actually, I do have to say that this phase seems to be getting easier. Or else, I'm just getting used to the constant chaos and neediness.

Turning the dials on the stress meter, Sears still hasn't gotten me our portrait greeting cards. They were supposed to be ready by December 8, in tme for Hanukkah. It is now December 21. If I don't get them in the mail tomorrow, they're going to be New Year's cards. The people at our local Sears portrait studio are clueless, and the people at their national customer service are nice and apologetic, but haven't delivered on their promises. Next year I'm doing my own effing cards!

A sincere apology

2004-12-21T08:15:00.000-05:00

Remember what I said about Ugg boots?

I take it all back. Except the part where shorts + Uggs = ridiculous.

A woman obsessed

2004-12-03T15:52:00.000-05:00

The holiday season is upon us...run for cover!

Let me start by saying that DOM is a lucky, lucky girl, having parents who are a secular Jew and an ex-Catholic. Twice the presents, but with none of that boring church/temple attendance. The bad news is that we're great at the guilt.

Anyway, I have begun the frantic search for presents. Since there are eight days of Hanukkah, that means seven small presents and one bigger one. Outfits for her doll, check. Three-pack of play-dough, check. Characters for her felt board, check. DVD, check. Books, check. I've been on mission, combing catalogues, eBay, toy stores, Target. But today I realized something...I've forgotten about everyone else!

I have three weeks to shop for a whole bunch of people, and no earthly idea of what to get them. Any suggestions?

This was supposed to be the holiday where I got everything done early and then sat back and relaxed. Oh well, there's always next year.

It is always going to be so difficult?

2004-12-02T13:45:00.000-05:00

That is the question I posted to Mr. MOM yesterday morning. Don't get me wrong. I think DOM is an angel - smart, funny, sweet - but she's also 2 years old. And, like a certain ex-boss of mine, if something isn't her idea, she doesn't want to do it. I quit that job - but this is something I can't quit, as much as I want to some days.

Take getting dressed. Unless SHE picks out the clothes, unless it is her idea to get dressed, it is a huge battle. Every morning. Same with getting in the bath, getting out of the bath, getting ready for bed, going to bed, eating dinner, etc., etc., etc. The wise advice is to pick your battles but, dammit, most of these things aren't optional.

So, how do I go about making everything seem to be her idea? I got pretty good at doing it with my former boss. But he wasn't as smart as she is.

Now that's an interesting concept

2004-12-01T16:29:00.000-05:00

Mmmmmm...cereal...

The little-ist consumers

2004-11-29T15:31:00.000-05:00

Great stuff about children as consumers in this weekend's New York Times Magazine (site registration required) and in today's Washington Post. I read both with equal parts fascination and horror. Fascinated because I think it's good that kids are learning about aesthetics and quality. Horrified because to me it seems that it's just another factor pushing kids away from being kids at an earlier and earlier age. Is there a middle ground? Are they becoming mini adults when they should be maxi kids?

What I meant to say

2004-11-22T16:21:00.000-05:00

Ellen Goodman articulates it best. Hence, why she has won a Pulitzer and I, alas, have not.

For anyone who grew up in the 80s

2004-11-18T11:18:00.000-05:00

This is guaranteed to drive you crazy...or have you humming bad songs to yourself for the rest of the day...

Mirror, mirror

2004-11-17T17:24:00.000-05:00

The other night, DOM was playing with a large stuffed bear down in our rec room. She carried it into the bathroom, put it on the floor and said, "Now, you sit there and think about what you did!" A little stunned, I asked her, "Did you just put your bear in time out?" She answered, proudly, "Yes!"

Putting aside the question of whether we've been using the time out too often, Mr. MOM and I did the only thing we could in such a situation - dissolved in laughter.

Are we doing worse or is the bar just getting higher?

2004-11-16T11:54:00.000-05:00

Today, as I was reading a Salon.com article on the new Conceive magazine, I was intrigued by The Mommy Myth author Susan Douglas' contention that this was further evidence of the "fetishizing" of babies.

Reading through a Salon interview with Douglas, I'm struck by how rational she sounds...and how much I agree with her. It seems to me, in my observations over the past two years, that there is this unrelenting push by today's mothers (and it is largely not shared by fathers) to try to be perfect. Now, I think the drive to be a perfect mother has always been there, but the media image of the perfect mother has changed over the years from June Cleaver (doing housework in high heels and having dinner ready for the family when Ward comes home) to some ungodly Martha Stewart/Stepford wife combination (everything is always perfect, everything is always homemade, and your taste is impeccable).

I happen to participate on several parenting-related listservs, and it always seems that members who dare voice an opinion that does not fit with today's standard of an ideal mommy, she gets taken to task by the other mothers, either directly or through emails that condemn the practice. God forbid we should feed our children refined sugar, let them watch TV before the age of 2, turn their car seats forward-facing a day before they turn 1 (or, as someone recently suggested, 2), give them formula instead of breastfeeding, stop breastfeeding before they enter Kindergarten, put them in a day care center, leave them with a babysitter, take a trip and leave them with relatives, or let them play with sharp objects. (OK, maybe that last one is universal.)

The thing that always conveniently gets left out is that 99% of the mothers who participate on such listservs are doing the best they can with their financial resources, physical limitations, time constraints, and mental health. Many of us have come to the conclusion that nobody will ever be a perfect mother, so can't we just accept the trade-offs other mothers make and not make them feel bad about it. I mean, can't we all just get along?

Or does this just sound like I'm trying to justify my poor parenting techniques?

On the other hand...

2004-11-15T20:58:00.000-05:00

...on days like this, I CAN raid said child's Halloween candy stash.

Mmmmm...Whoppers....

Under pressure

2004-11-15T20:47:00.000-05:00

On a recent visit to the doctor, I was told that my blood pressure was a little high and that I should keep an eye on it. A week later, it was through the roof. I'm still undergoing tests to see what might be causing the increase (who wants to bet that there won't be an answer?), but I figure it's probably one of three things:

a) a serious problem where I only have two weeks to live;
b) a moderate problem, but one that can be controlled by medication, dietary changes, and lifestyle changes; or
c) not really a problem - I'm just a working mother of a two-year-old and if my blood pressure wasn't elevated, I probably would be checked for signs of rigor mortis.

This comes on one of THOSE nights...a night in which I pat myself on the back for the decision to stop at one child. A night where a glass of bourbon on the rocks isn't just pleasurable - it's necessary. A night where I am at the end of my rope and fed up with piles of laundry, toys scattered all around the house, and a child that now, 40 minutes after I put her down for bed, is still singing at the top of her lungs.

To my infant-rearing friends reading this right now...good luck. Your turn is next. MUUUUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Isn't she beautiful?

2004-11-07T13:52:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the world, Baby Pink! Perhaps we'll be able to clean up this mess by the time you start paying attention to such things.

In all seriousness, several good friends have had babies recently and I have to say how wonderful it is to see them so happy, so nurturing, and to see them be such wonderful mothers. I don't mean to get all sappy, but it gives me hope for the next generation. We may not be perfect mothers (as if such a creature ever really exists), but I think our children will always know that they have a place where they are safe and loved.

A friendly word of advice

2004-11-01T15:47:00.000-05:00

Today at lunch, I saw yet another person walking down the street in a miniskirt and Ugg boots in 70 degree weather. I wanted so desperately to stop this woman and say, "For the love of all that is holy, stop this madness now!" I grew up in the 1970s and 1980s and have my fair share of cringe-inducing outfits documented on film, and I just want to spare these innocent fashion victims the heartache and embarrassment that will be visited upon them looking back at their ridiculous get up ten years from now.

I went to college at a beautiful coastal campus in California. One woman I knew, who was a Grateful Dead fan and who lost a toe in a biking accident, wore Uggs all the time. Yes, they're comfortable and cozy. But unless you live in Manitoba or International Falls, Minnesota, for the life of me, I cannot see how they can be considered practical or attractive. Sure, they claim that the insole acts almost like an "air conditioner" in up to 80 degree weather. But I just ain't buying it. And I'm not alone.

Ugg-philes, come talk to me again in ten years. You'll see what I mean.

Random stuff

2004-10-29T13:31:00.000-04:00

The Halloween season is here and I just recently dug myself out from under a huge pile of work. Apologies for the relative silence these past couple of weeks, but bathroom renovations + deadlines + travel + motherhood = 32-hour days. Physics and the time-space continuum being what they are, something had to give.

Halloween. DOM has learned the joy of Halloween. Our conversation earlier this week:

Me: "What are we going to do on Halloween?"
DOM: "Trick or treating!"
Me: "What do you say when you knock on someone's door?"
DOM: "Trick or treat!"
Me: "And then what happens?"
DOM: "I GET CANDY!!!"
Me: "And THEN what do you say?"
DOM: "Thank you!"

For DOM, life is divided into times when she gets candy, and regular boring days.

Preschool. DOM's day care is transitioning her into their beginning preschool class. It has more of a curriculum than the toddler class she has been in, with more of an emphasis on words and numbers. Now, her transition from infant to toddler room was traumatic for the whole family - tears, hysterics when we would drop her off in the toddler room, clinginess - and that was just me. She was pretty bad for a two week period, too. But from the first day of transition to preschool, she has not wanted to go back to the toddler room at all. As a matter of fact, they dispensed with the transition process and just had us start dropping her off and picking her up in the preschool room. I have my theories as to why this happens, but it doesn't really matter - it ain't broke, so I ain't fixin' it.

Halloween, part II. The thought did occur to me that this is the last time I will be able to pick out her Halloween costume for her. Next year, she will insist on being a princess/ballerina/Disney character/specific animal/dragon...whatever. So did I dress her up in the cutest costume I could find? Nope. I bought a costume that was warm, easy to put on and take off, and cost $6 on eBay. Best. Halloween. Ever.

The end is near. There is joy in Whoville, as DOM is almost potty trained. Just a few more weeks, and we may be able to bid farewell to the changing pad forever. Or she will be entering kindergarten in pull ups.

A random observation. Courtesy of Mr. MOM. While watching 123 Sesame Street on Noggin on the weekends, we notice that there seem to be only about 5 episodes of Elmo's World in their rotation: singing, drawing, plants, dancing, and hair. I KNOW there are a lot more than that...c'mon Noggin - we're getting bored!

Speaking of Sesame Street... Here is my all-time favorite Sesame Street exchange (courtesy of SesameBeat.com):

Alan: "I have some rice cakes."
Cookie: "What me look like, rice cake monster? No, me Cookie Monster. Me need cookie!"

Toodle-oo! Happy Halloween and Dia de los Muertos, y'all!

Slap happy

2004-10-04T20:53:00.001-04:00

Vicky Iovine starts off the first chapter of The Girlfriend's Guide to Toddlers with perhaps the most accurate statement about child rearing I've ever heard: "Mother Nature really is so damned smart to give you your child in infant form first. There might not have been quite so many takers if she were handing out toddlers."

Tonight I was treated to one of those moments when you step back and really question your desire to let the child live to see her third birthday. When I started thinking just how much money we would save on Christmas and birthday presents in the coming year. When I wondered what it would be like to return to a house that wasn't scattered with toys like a juvenile obstacle course. Tonight I was rewarded for all my caring and meals and gentle but firm discipline...with a slap in the face.

It figures that stuff like this would happen when Mr. MOM is out for the evening. There we were, having a great evening of playing, working on her wooden puzzles. Bedtime was fast approaching, so as she pulled out yet another puzzle, I told her that it was the last one and then we would start getting ready for bed when we were done with it. About halfway through, she lost interest and started to reach for her toy telephone. I said "no, it's time to get ready for bed," and moved it away to a place where she couldn't reach it. She tried to get it, but I kept telling her that playtime was up and it was time to get ready for bed, and that was when she hauled off and slapped me, full force, across the cheek.

You know those moments when a situation turns 180 degrees? When you can actually hear a click in your head signaling the change? That was one of those moments. I didn't hit back...that would be the wrong message to send ("how many...smack...times have I told you...smack...that it's not nice...smack....to hit someone?"). But through words alone, she got the message that this was unacceptable behavior and that she was in deep doo doo. And we're not talking about her diaper here.

Let's just hope this lesson sticks with her. Because the last thing on earth I would like to do is to raise a mini Zsa Zsa Gabor.

Weapons of mass distraction

2004-09-24T09:57:00.000-04:00

I know I'm not alone in this, because I have heard a number of my female friends relate similar stories about their husbands/boyfriends. But, what is it about men, deadlines, and tangential work?

Let's say you are trying to get the house straightened up and ready for a big party. Do you: a) shove all the junk accumulated on your coffee table in a drawer or a room where you can close the door; b) take out the plates you need to serve the food and get them ready to put out; c) set up chairs/tables/decorations; d) scrub the bathtub with Ajax; or e) alphabetize your CD collection? Most women I know will opt for a, b, or c. Men? E. (True story: before a party, Mr. MOM was busy scrubbing the bathtub. Me: "Ummm...I don't think that anyone is planning on taking a bath during the party. At least, I hope not." Him: "I don't want anyone to look in the bathtub and see that is dirty." Me: "If someone is looking in our bathtub at a party, it's their own damn problem! Now come help me straighten up the living room, where we'll actually be spending most of our time.")

The corollary: when you are trying to get something accomplished by a certain time, something else will come up that is in his mind much more important. Case in point, last night. There were a number of things we had to do - we had to take out the garbage, pack for a weekend trip, clear a path from the front door to the cat food so our cat sitter won't sustain a serious injury when she comes to feed our cats. We have a new TV and AV system that is partially assembled, but we needed to finish putting together the stand, which has approximately 12,415 individual parts. So, from the time we got home, we worked on the stand (while DOM was contentedly watching Sagwa, Dragon Tales, and Boohbah on PBS Kids - score another notch in the bad parenting column). After dinner and bath time and bed time for DOM, we worked on the stand some more. We finally finished with the stand around 9:45 p.m. and loaded in the components. But, rather than just hooking up the TiVO and the TV, Mr. MOM decided that he HAD to hook up all the components AND program the audio receiver - a chore that took him well past 11:00 p.m. Packing for the trip? He took out his clothes for the trip this morning so I could pack them (I put together the bag of food for the car trip, packed DOM's clothes, and put together a bag of toys for the trip, as well as packing my own stuff). Taking out the garbage? Done at 11:30 p.m. Good night's sleep? Forget it.

I am woman; hear me snore.

A little too much sharing

2004-09-13T13:09:00.000-04:00

So, guess who now has conjunctivitis. It truly is one of the great joys of living with a little petri dish...you never know what communicable disease you will get next. DOM, of course, is fully recovered, while Mr. MOM and I walk around the house with undead-looking bright red eyes. We're glad that she understands the concept of sharing, but just wish she didn't do it so often.

A sad, sad day

2004-09-10T22:20:00.002-04:00

Alas, today is the day I have to come out of the closet as a complete and utter eBay failure. After great success selling a bunch of DOM's clothes at a consignment sale, I decided to put the unsold items up for grabs on eBay. The result? Nary a bid. I have failed as a seller on eBay.

Undeterred, I have listed three more outfits. Hope springs eternal.

S.U.C.K.E.R.

2004-09-10T16:59:00.000-04:00

Mistake #1: I decided to take a lunchtime stroll through Barnes & Noble to see if they had the Grover book in stock that I've been looking for. (For those of you parents, it's called "The Monster at the End of this Book," and it is supremely hysterical...to me. DOM is only moderately amused at this point in time. I think I haven't been reading it correctly.)

Mistake #2: I decided to peruse the recent non-fiction table because...well, because it was there. That's what I do in a bookstore - I browse.

And what should my tired, confused, mommy-role questioning self see, but a book called "The 7 Stages of Motherhood," by Ann Pleshette Murphy (any relation to Suzanne Pleshette? I loved the Bob Newhart Show. And she was also in the supremely funny movie "If It's Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium.") A quick browse to make sure it isn't some wacko evangelical treatise, and in it goes into the purchase pile.

Mr. MOM tells me I have a problem. Whenever something big comes up in life and I'm not sure what to do, I buy a book. Pregnant? Bought a book (OK, I bought about seven books). Trying to lose weight? Bought a book. Wanted to improve my running? Bought a couple of books and obsessively surfed the Web for training schedules. Mr. MOM...well, he only buys mystery and suspense books (which he reads voraciously); I can count on one hand the number of non-fiction books he has bought in the 12 years I have known him.

Somebody has to buy these books, though. There's a whole bunch of struggling self-help writers out there depending on us.

But, back to the book, it seems like Ann Pleshette Murphy has good insights and good advice. I'm looking forward to whatever enlightenment I can achieve.

If that doesn't work out, I can always get a head start on The Monster At the End of This Book.

Exactly

2004-09-10T09:35:00.000-04:00

I could have written this. Except the part about the horses.

The Maternal Question (washingtonpost.com)

Cartoon physics #2

2004-09-01T08:28:00.000-04:00

Watching Clifford this morning, I noted with great interest that Emily Elizabeth was blowing up a balloon for a party. However, after she finished inflating the balloon and tied a string around it, the balloon floated up in the air as though it were filled with helium.

Perhaps that explains her voice.

The plague returns

2004-09-01T08:20:00.000-04:00

I'm back home again with DOM, who has managed to contract the latest ick going around day care. She has managed to combine a series of illnesses in one big, goopy mess. She has conjunctivitis, an ear infection, congestion, and a stubborn fever. I would like to thank the parent in her day care who sent their child in with pink eye so that she or he could share this lovely experience with the entire class. It's not gum, people - you don't have to share with everyone.

The books say that these childhood illnesses are frequent in group care settings until they start to build up immunity to the various germs and viruses. So, uh, when exactly is that going to happen?

Le Mannequin Pis

2004-09-01T07:58:00.000-04:00

When you have a fair-sized group of children over for a party, you learn to expect the unexpected. But sometimes something happens that really throws you for a loop. As was the case this past weekend.

One of the little boys in the neighborhood has recently acquired the rather disconcerting habit of considering the whole world his toilet. Apparently he is on a new medication that greatly increases the frequency of urination, so he'll be playing in the yard and suddenly pull out his whatsit for a brief whizz. At the same time, he is in the throes of toddlerhood rebellion.

On Sunday we hosted a farewell party for our neighbors. We gathered in our yard for food and fun (and flies). At one point, I spotted a couple of the boys head into the house. I sent Mr. MOM in to check it out, and this one little boy proudly (or was it defiantly?) told him that he peed in DOM's room. Mr. MOM came out and related the story, but said he didn't see anything. I went in to check it out and found a telltale line of wetness on the rug near the door.

So, besides cleaning it up, what would you do? How do you tell a person you like a lot that her son just used your daughter's room as his own personal latrine? To be fair, my friend was mortified and took swift corrective and punitive action. But there is one kid that I'm not letting roam freely around my house any more.

Mars, Venus, and other cliches

2004-08-27T16:03:00.000-04:00

I left the house today just as Mr. MOM was getting ready to give DOM her lunch. Usually, I am the one responsible for selecting (and preparing) whatever nutritious and tasty morsels are on the menu. Today, however, Mr. MOM took the initiative and started preparing lunch.

She was getting a hot dog, chips, and applesauce.

No wonder she likes him better than me.

That crushing sensation of guilt

2004-08-19T09:38:00.001-04:00

Motherhood inevitably brings with it a certain amount of guilt and a belief that somehow you are doing something that is horribly wrong...80 percent of the time. But this morning was exceptional by any standards.

It began normally enough, to be sure. DOM got up, watched a little Arthur, we got her dressed, let her put on an Elmo sticker, got a bagel and some water, and then climbed into my car. That's where things started to fall apart.

You see, I rarely drive in to work. Mr. MOM and DOM usually drop me off at the subway on their way in. However, Mr. MOM had a doctor's appointment this morning.

The ride in was uneventful. We talked, we sang, we didn't hit any traffic (a rarity, for sure, in this city). But as we approached day care, she started whining about her arm. I kept asking her what was wrong, but she wouldn't or couldn't elaborate, and since I kept hitting green lights (where is a traffic jam when you need one?) I couldn't turn around and look.

A few minutes later, we pulled up at day care, I put one of the clips she had taken out of her hair back in, and we headed into the center. She was whining about wanting a clip, but I hadn't been able to find the other one that she had dropped on the seat or on the floor. As I went to kiss her goodbye, I noticed four or five raised red spots on her face. One of the wonderful ladies at the center said it looked like bug bites, but I shrugged it off and said she has been playing with her hair clips, so she probably clipped her face or something.

I headed over to my office, but after about three or four blocks, I noticed I wasn't alone in the car. I had picked up a stowaway - a nasty little mosquito. The little bloodsucker apparently hadn't found his fill on my precious little girl, so he started circling me. Let's just say that now there is one less mosquito in this world, and I took great satisfaction in bringing about his demise.

But then the guilt hit. First of all, guilt over not responding when she was whining about her arm, thus probably noticing her role as a smorgasbord and saving her from the mosquito before she had quite so many bites (but, in my defense, there really was no place to pull over). Secondly, guilt over telling day care that it was probably something she had done (I called and corrected myself, and also asked if they had calamine lotion or something anti-itch they could use if the bites bothered her). Third, my hasty departure from day care when my little girl had undetermined spots all over her face. And, fourth, a sense of guilt that the photos and video of her second birthday (this weekend) may very well give testament to my failings as a parent. At least she will have photographic evidence when she wonders why she's so screwed up sixteen years from now.

So, here I sit, at work, hair shirt firmly in place. The good news is that this won't be an issue a couple of days from now - I will have something new and equally meaningless upon which to fixate.

Parenting secret #1

2004-08-04T20:45:00.000-04:00

There are some days when you, as a parent, just stumble blindly into the answer for a vexing problem. Today was one of those days.

DOM and I were eating dinner together; Mr. MOM was off at a grown-up event (well, it is an event with a bunch of guys who were members of his college fraternity, so I question just how grown-up an event it was). She has become a lot pickier about what she will eat in the past couple of months. Tonight was a "no green bean" zone. I tried persuasion ("Please, will you just eat one green bean?"), reasoning ("But you like green beans!"), and threats ("If you don't eat at least one green bean, you can't have an Oreo."). Finally, out of desperation, I had a flash of inspiration. I asked DOM, "If grandpa tells you to eat a green bean, will you eat a green bean?" She said, "Yes." So, I called my father on the phone, asked him to do me a favor, explained the situation, and then handed the phone to her. She spoke with him briefly, and then started to eat her green beans.

So there you have it. Too bad it won't work again tomorrow.

...But you're not supposed to say it!

2004-08-04T20:42:00.000-04:00

I had lunch today with a non-parent friend of mine who I hadn't seen in some years. Of course the inevitable question arose, "how is parenthood?" I was honest...I said that it was wonderful, that I wouldn't trade it for the world, but that there were some days when I missed my old life. She seemed surprised that I would say that - although it was something she had suspected a number of moms felt, none of them would ever come right out and say it. So, I'm taking a stand:

There are some days I miss my old life.

There. I feel better.

Anyone with me on this?

(silence.)

Food for thought

2004-08-04T20:39:00.000-04:00

My friend brought me back a pin from last week's Democratic National Convention:

"It's a Man's World...Unless Women Vote"

It only LOOKS bad

2004-07-30T10:20:00.000-04:00

Way back when I was just a young know-it-all, parent to none, I would look at friends' children who were forever showing up with assorted bruises and scrapes and wonder how they could get injured so often.

Now I know.

Each week, DOM has found a new and interesting way to bruise, cut, or scrape herself. Last night, while playing outside with a babysitter, she fell on our front walk, scraping up the entire right side of her face. Apparently, she didn't cry - she just popped right back up and continued playing with the bubbles. If it were me in that situation, I probably would have headed straight for the emergency room.

This morning, it looks pretty bad, but doesn't seem to bother her. I just keep looking over my shoulder, waiting for a visit from Child Protective Services.

It's the Happy Meal...OF DEATH

2004-07-28T10:34:00.000-04:00

I've been reading Eric Schlosser's Fast Food Nation, a look at the many business practices in which the fast food industry (from restaurants to suppliers to farmers/ranchers) engages in order to deliver a consistent product, keep labor costs low, and maximize profits. (An interesting review appears online at Salon.) The entire book is disturbing, but nothing is quite so fear-provoking to a mother as the description of a 7-year-old boy's death after ingesting an e coli tainted hamburger. I now find myself flinching whenever I pass a McDonalds. But how does one raise a child in today's America without the occasional fast food visit? Very carefully.

Schlosser's description of how "natural flavorings" are added to food was particularly interesting. Apparently, so much of what we believe is flavor in processed foods is just a smoke-and-mirrors chemical reaction that fools your olfactory senses into believing that what you are tasting is cheesy goodness. I find that I'm spending more time carefully reading food labels to try and figure out whether certain products actually contain any real food at all.

In the past, I've been known to make some pretty drastic dietary moves to improve my health or body image (near-vegetarianism, South Beach Diet, etc.). I'm trying to eat mostly fresh vegetables and whole grains. But I think the most important thing to do right now is to stay away from anything that might kill me.

Random observation #2

2004-07-27T09:21:00.000-04:00

So, why is it that the one summer we finally shell out the bucks to join a pool, we are either out of town or cursed with cool and cloudy weather the weekends we are in town?

For the love of eBay

2004-07-26T22:55:00.000-04:00

DOM is less than a month away from turning two. Hair pulling about how quickly she is growing up aside, we are faced with the birthday present dilemma: how do we buy her a ton of presents without spoiling her? I'm justifying this year's spending spree by doing most of my shopping on eBay - at least that way I'm not paying full retail.

It's no secret that a two-year-old has an attention span shorter than that of a housefly. The most thrilling thing about the birthday party for her is going to be a cake and ice cream and lots of paper to tear. That there will be some neat and interesting new toys will just be icing on the cake (pun intended, sorry). She will be excited...for about two minutes, or the average amount of time it will take to open the box and get the toy ready for play. Then the toy will be discarded on to the rapidly growing pile of primary-colored plastic lining the walls of her room or our rec room.

So, you say, why buy her lots of toys if she really doesn't care or won't miss them. And I respond to you...I dunno. It's a compulsion, really. I see all this cool stuff that I think I would like and I think to myself that maybe, just maybe that is going to be the toy that captures her imagination and keeps her occupied for hours on end.

Dreams are nice. But they're getting expensive.

Random observation #1

2004-07-14T15:04:00.000-04:00

The leaves outside my office window are falling up today. That means either:

1. The earth's polarity has reversed and they're being sucked out to space;

2. Christopher Columbus was wrong and the earth, indeed, is flat - and we've gone from the top side to the bottom side; or

3. We're about to receive a visit from a big honking storm.

On a related side note, there aren't any trees in the courtyard below, so where are the leaves coming from?

The incredible shrinking birthday

2004-07-02T15:08:00.000-04:00

Every once in a while, I get tempted to plot birthday celebrations out on a graph. It seems to me that, with the exception of the big "0s" (30, 40, 50, etc.), they just get less and less of a deal. Until one hits, say, 90 and then every subsequent birthday is a miracle to be feted with grand feasts, cakes sagging with candles, and special greetings from Willard Scott for people "of a certain age."

The most precipitous drop off comes after the birth of your first child. Prior to that, nice dinners, trips to fancy bars or dance clubs, parties - they all served to celebrate the anniversary of your birth. Once the child comes, the parents' birthdays just fade away. And, if you're (un)lucky enough to share a birthday with your child? Forget it...you are doomed never to celebrate your birthday again.

Now, as an only child, birthdays are important to me because...well...the day is all about me. It's that damn self-centeredness. But this morning, for instance, I woke up ready to accept my worship. Mr. MOM was great - he serenaded me with a rendition of happy birthday even before I could focus my eyes. But a trip down to DOM's room produced...a detailed listing of what she had for dinner last night.

"Sing happy birthday to mama," Mr. MOM said.

"I get dressed," said DOM.

"How about telling mama happy birthday?"

"..."

"Can you sing the song?"

"..."

Fortunately, I was able to get a "happy birthday" out of her in the car on the way to work. I guess it's inevitable that after 30+ years of making a big deal out of my own birthday it is time for the celebrations to fade off into the sunset.

But I can't wait until DOM's birthday.

Fantasy...meet reality.

2004-06-23T10:10:00.000-04:00

Remember how I said in a previous post that I couldn't wait to get to a nice quiet hotel room and sleep? Well, I did get to a hotel room, but it was anything other than nice and quiet. It was as though all the "bad mommy" karma came up and kicked me in the ass after wishing myself to a more peaceful place. It was loud - apparently the hotel had never heard of double-glazing their windows to cut down on street noise. It was less-than-pristine - I didn't even WANT to know whose hairs were those on the shower wall. It was BROKEN - if you advertise free wireless Internet service, then perhaps you should make sure that the service WORKS.

I was happy to head back home to my crazy, messy little house. It may not be quiet or clean or in working order; but then again, I don't expect it to be.