I've done a pretty terrible job with National Poetry Month; it was my intention to post poems on a regular basis, but I guess I just got lazy and forgetful. Story of my life. Anyway, I thought I'd post one more poem for the month, one I was only recently introduced to and immediately fell in love with. I can't tell you exactly what I love about this poem, because I'm the sort of poetry lover who usually can't explain what a poem means, or anything about it. I'm the type who loves a poem for the language, and the feelings and images that language evokes in me. I love it as an art form as much as I love any message or story a particular poem might have.
Before I post the poem (because it's long, and I don't expect that you'll all read to the end of it, though I highly recommend that you do), I'd like to put some questions to my readers (who, I've found, number perhaps six or seven, or possibly even eight, instead of the four I previously presumed): What are your favorite poems? Who are your favorite poets? Which poetry has really moved you? Post some good poetry in the comments; there's little I like better than being introduced to poetry and poets I haven't read. And please, no comments about hating poetry -- I'm convinced that anyone who says that just hasn't read the right poem yet. There's one out there for each of us.
And now, on to the poem:
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot
S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.*
Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
(They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
(They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”)
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?
And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…
I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
. . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.
And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.”
And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”
. . . . .
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.
I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
________________
*From Dante's Inferno; Guido da Montefeltro, a thirteenth-century Italian military and political leader, in the eighth cirlce of hell (fraud) tells Dante his story because he believes that Dante will never be able to repeat it: "If I thought my answer were to one who would ever return to the world, this flame should stay without another movement; but since none ever returned alive from this depth, if what I hear is true, I answer thee without fear of infamy."** Likewise, Prufrock tells his sad story because he thinks it will never be repeated.***
**From my copy of Dante's Inferno, translated by John D Sinclair, which I possess because I took an entire course on it in college -- just the Inferno, not Purgatorio or Paradiso; although I do own a copy of Purgatorio which I've never read, and probably never will, since without an Italian professor to explain Dante to me, he's a little over my head. The Inferno course was pretty good, though, and the cover art on my book shows a group of people missing various limbs; one guy is even holding his own decapitated head in his hands. Oh, so morbid, I love it.
***That is likely the only gem of poetical analysis you'll ever get from me, and I've only written that because I actually had to spend a few minutes looking up the Inferno reference, and thought that as long as I was looking it up, I might as well mention why Eliot included it. And I'm sure you could have figured it out on your own, but it's so rare that I make a conclusion or interpretation about poetry that I think is actually what the poet intended, that I needed to share my little moment of pride.
30 April 2006
national poetry month comes to an end
27 April 2006
cross your fingers for me
So, I had a job interview this morning, and I think it went really well. The position is a "Graduate Community Assistant" -- someone to organize and plan events to try and make the community where we live more interactive. I've already been doing some work in our community here, as well as party planning at James' nursery school, so I think I'll enjoy it. Greg and I would be kind of a team for this, and I think, for a variety of reasons, that they'll be offering the job to us. Of course I'm not sure yet, but I'm optimistic.
The best part by far is that instead of being paid, we'll have our rent reduced, which will save us a lot of money without affecting our taxes or my Medicaid coverage, which are both important things to not mess with at this point. And it will give us a chance to meet more people, be more social, and be more involved in the community, all good things. At first I was kind of like, "Eh, work," but now that I"ve had the interview I'm excited about more than the money and I'm really hoping that we'll get the position. Wish us luck!
26 April 2006
what a pity
I can't believe no one told me! Not only is Flock of Seagulls still touring (or touring again, perhaps), but they'll be in Rochester tomorrow night! If tickets weren't $18, and if I didn't already have plans for a busy evening of sitting around the house, I'd probably consider thinking about possibly going.
But seriously, I heard "Space Age Love Song" on the radio tonight, and that is truly a fine specimen of '80s pop.
if i should die before i wake
Today in the mail, I got my first-ever pamphlet from a cemetery about burial options. Okay, so it's addressed to "Resident", but that applies to me. So I thought I'd write a slightly morbid blog post about what should happen to my body when I die.
I've never been into the idea of traditional burial -- it seems kind of meaningless to me. I've attended many a funeral, and visited many a burial site, without ever feeling a shred of emotion or attachment to the place, to that hole in the ground, nor have I ever needed that physical location to remember and honor my deceased loved ones. I always kind of thought I'd like to be cremated, and have my ashes scattered, this being for a long time the only alternative I knew of to burial. But it turns out that cremation releases harmful gasses into the air, and burial leaks harmful chemicals into soil and water. So what's an eco-friendly girl to do? Why should we have to pollute to dispose of our dead?
I didn't really think about this much, though, until I read Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach (recommended, if you're into that sort of subject matter -- I found it really interesting), which talks about the variety of things done to bodies once their occupants have died. The idea of donating my body to science appealed to me at first, until I found out that some donated bodies are used for practicing plastic surgery, among other things. Call me shallow, or superficial, but there will be no plastic surgery performed on my dead face.
And then I read a really attractive idea, which may sound kind of terrible if you haven't heard of it before: human composting, a method developed by a Swedish ecologist (read about the process here). Then, thanks to my random pamphlet, I was doing some internet searching on burial options, and found out about green burials. What better way to spend death than to become part of the earth and help new life to grow and flourish? I've always thought cemeteries were a tremendous waste of space that could be turned into public housing or something. I do enjoy cemeteries such as Rochester's own Mt. Hope Cemetery (the resting place of Susan B Anthony and Frederick Douglass), which was designed (in the Victorian Era) to be a park and picnic area as well as a burial place, complete with gardens, picnic tables, benches, fountains, and a gazebo -- it's a lovely and fascinating place to visit. But so many cemeteries are not like that -- they're empty, silent, lonely. I love the idea of the green cemeteries mentioned in the article linked above -- "nature preserve first, cemetery second".
So someday, should all go as planned, my body will be laid to rest in an ecologically-friendly way. Of course, I'm an organ donor, so that'll be taken care of first, but then a green burial, or composting, should it become available in the US by the time I die. I do feel a little odd for thinking about this in so much detail, and actually researching it a bit, when I'm only 24 and I hope to live at least, oh, let's say 70 more years, to be optimistic. But I do think it's interesting in a larger sense to think about the land use, the pollution, and the impracticality of the traditional burial procedure. And I suppose it never hurts to be prepared.
25 April 2006
baby updates
It seems that every time Evan hangs out with his cousin, 6 weeks older than him, he learns something new and seems so much more grown-up by the time we get home.
This time, he's learned to wave good-bye, which is so totally adorable. He flaps his whole arm up and down, sometimes both, and sure, sometimes he's looking in the wrong direction, but it's charming just the same. He's also been more responsive over the last few days; for example, when we say the word "outside" he will point to the door, or when we say "light" he will look to the ceiling lights. The jury's still out as to whether or not he's intentionally saying words -- he'll babble "ba-ba-ba" when given a ball, and sometimes says "ow" when we talk about going outside -- but it's clear that his comprehension is really taking off.
And his cousin is not the only baby who inspires him -- yesterday we were visited by a friend of mine and her three children, two of whom are 3.5-month-old twins. Evan, in his excitement to see the babies (he really loves babies) actually walked across the entire living room, which is easily twice as far as he's ever voluntarily walked before.
It never ceases to amaze me how quickly babies grown and learn. And it's never going to stop!
21 April 2006
sadness
Robert Wegman has died.
Any Rochesterian can tell you that Wegman's is the best grocery store in the entire world, and it's all because of the Wegman family. Any loss for Wegman's is a loss for the whole community.
time for another post on gender
My sister has a good post up about the cultural focus on little girls' appearances rather than personalities or accomplishments, and, consequently, the tendency of little girls to emulate this focus by idealizing princessses, while boys, on the other hand, are encouraged toward a more broad range of interests. Her post set me off on a whole variety of gender-related trains of thought, some of which I'm going to attempt to organize here.
It's interesting, the different challenges that parents face. Parents of girls who are aware, like my sister, of implicit cultural norms and standards, are faced with the challenege of raising girls to be independent, intellectual, creative beings despite the cultural imperative to be merely pretty and passive. Parents of boys, on the other hand, realize the need to encourage openness, sensitivity, and emotional awareness in a culture that encourages boys to be the strong, silent type. Parents of girls may be worrying that their daughters will be overly interested in princesses and fairies and other useless idols, while I'm worried that my sons will pick up on the cultural cues for boys to disdain "girly" things.
I still worry, even though I can see that James is growing up with a more gender-neutral childhood than many kids. His school environment certainly encourages this; school is where he picked up the "No Girls Allowed" refrain, but also where he learned why that's a harmful attitude. And the parents in our neighborhood are largely an enlightened bunch, and so, by extension, are their children. One of James' best friends in our neighborhood is a 7-year-old Chinese girl, and they spend a lot of their time building in the sandbox. For the most part, kids in our neighborhood are really inclusive, in terms of both gender and race, and that's one of the reasons I'm really grateful to have lived here -- there are probably few other environments where James could have had the exposure to so many different people, while in a tolerant, inviting community.
I have to share a moment of triumph I had recently in regards to gender. James, one morning, discovered some of my hair ties -- the double-ball elastics usually worn by 6-year-old girls -- and asked to try one. His hair's getting pretty long, so I was able to put the front of his hair into a little ponytail. He looked in the mirror and said, "I look like a girl!" and I said "You look great." He was happy with it and decided to wear his hair that way all day. Later that afternoon, we went to a friend's for a playdate. James' playmate opened the door and the first thing he said was, "You look like a girl!" James grinned and shouted, "Yeah!" and the two ran off to play without mentioning James' hair again. And that just made me smile.
I'll close with a pic of James and his ponytail -- ignoring the tongue, I think it's adorable:
16 April 2006
happy easter!
James in his new gardening gear
Evan loves to play in the dirt
James with our newly dyed Easter eggs
Highlights of the day: Both boys were delighted with their Easter presents (gardening tools, gardening gloves, and flower seeds for James; rubber balls with fake insects inside for Evan), not to mention the candy (which we really didn't do much of). We spent most of the afternoon weeding and planting in the garden. So far we have mint, marigolds, and chives. Evan had a grand old time flinging dirt around, and James started a Worm Rescue Operation (although he was disappointed to learn that it's not really rescue if he's tranfering them to a tree). We dyed eggs (first time for both me and James). And that pretty much covers it. A lovely day overall.
15 April 2006
how insulting!
So I've been uploading more videos to YouTube (now added to my links on the right) and minutes after I had posted an adorable video of James swimming last summer, someone, some stranger probably, watched it and rated it. And what rating did this viewer give? One star. One star out of five. Okay, now I know a three year old swimming with water wings is not the height of internet video entertainment, but surely it merits more than one star, if only for how cute he is!
Seriously, you do not tell a mother her child rates one star. That is just not done. It's like telling someone she has an ugly baby: first, she's going to be insulted, and second, she's not going to believe you anyway, so why bother?
14 April 2006
sick little boy
James is sick. He's had a high fever since yesterday afternoon. At first I thought he was pretending to take a nap to get out of picking up the living room, but then when he actually fell asleep I knew something wasn't right. So he is having lots of rest and lots of fluids, and we're in wait-and-see mode for now.
It's always a tremendously sad thing when your child is sick. Especially something vague and, as yet, untreatable, because you feel so helpless. Your child feels terrible and you can't necessarily fix it. But on the flip side, when there's an easy cure like antibiotics, it's so rewarding to feel as though you've healed your child.
Trying to look on the bright side though: a sick child gives you more unprompted "I love you"s and thank yous than at any other time, because he is so grateful for anything you do that makes him feel a little better. He also snuggles more, because he is sleepier and in need of comfort and actually sitting still for more than five minutes at a time.
Here's hoping it's just a quick little virus that runs its course quickly.
13 April 2006
recent developments
A quickie, just to let y'all know what's going on lately:
- Evan is now practically sleeping through the night. Seriously, "almost" is great when it means getting up twice per night as opposed to 4, 5, or occasionally 8 times a night.
- Evan is also beginning to walk alone. This is good, because he's proving to be not nearly so reckless with walking as he's been with everything else.
- Signed up this morning for swimming lessons while school is out next week. James loved swimming lessons last year, and Evan seems to be half-dolphin, so this is good.
- I turned in an application for a job today, so cross your fingers for me. This could be a very good thing for us, and I'll say more if it gets beyond the application stage.
09 April 2006
a new easter tradition
This year is the first time that we'll be spending Easter alone as a family. In the past we've always gone to my mom's house, and had the same kind of Easter celebration I've been having since I was a kid. This year, for the first time ever, I don't have to do that. Not that there's anything wrong with the way I've spent Easter all of my life, but I'm starting to like the idea of creating our own family traditions.
Greg is the textbook example of an atheist, and I've labelled myself an agnostic -- part of my overall undecisive nature, I suppose, to say that I can't really know for sure and won't completely exclude any option that hasn't been disproved. But we were both raised Christian, and we were raised with Christian traditions, and we both see the value in those traditions even if we don't really believe in the Resurrection.
So we're making our Easter celebration a celebration of spring. This is one of my favorite times of year -- new life, the earth becoming green again, the return of beauty after a long dead winter. It's kind of an excuse to do the eggs and bunnies and chocolate crap, because what's an American holiday without consumerism? But we're also going to focus on the newness of things in the spring. We're going to plant flowers and dye Easter eggs, and hopefully we can use this holiday to help our kids better appreciate the natural world and all of its magic. And I think it's appropriate that Earth Day follows so closely on the heels of Easter: on Easter we can focus on appreciating the new life and growth of spring, and on Earth Day we can focus on caring for the earth, because of that appreciation for nature.
On a related note, my niece's birthday is on Earth Day, and my family will all be gathering at my mom's house to celebrate. Last year for Earth Day, a group of people in our neighborhood walked around together to pick up litter and clean up the public areas. Well, James loves his cousin, and is excited about her birthday party, but he was genuinely distressed when he heard that we wouldn't be here to pick up the neighborhood on Earth Day. I had to make him a promise that we would go for a walk to pick up litter in Grandma's neighborhood. So I think our environmentalism is already beginning to rub off on the kid.
05 April 2006
national poetry month
I'm a few days late, but April is National Poetry Month, and there's practically nothing I like better than an excuse to read and talk about poetry. So I thought I'd post a favorite poem or two (or three or four...) throughout the month, although it's a pretty formidable task to choose just a few favorites. Plath, cummings, Neruda, Angelou, Whitman... where do I begin?
But when I think about my love of poetry, there is a clear answer to that question, because there is one poem that sparked in me a more mature and passionate understanding of poetry than I had previously had. It wasn't until I heard this particular poem read aloud by a poetry professor in college that poetry really came alive for me. All of a sudden it was more than words on a page -- this poem was a real, living thing, and it was read so beautifully that I immediately fell in love with the professor reading it. (For the rest of my college career I tried to enroll in a poetry class with this professor, but was never able to fit it in. Alas.)
It doesn't do the poem justice to merely print it here, because the printed word lacks the emotion stirred inside by a passionate human voice, but it's the best I can do under the circumstances.
The Second Coming by William Butler Yeats
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all convictions, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
03 April 2006
a few items of business
1. Can y'all let me know if you're able to watch the video I posted? I think I've fixed things so that it should work for everyone, so if you couldn't see it before, try again and let me know whether you can see it now.
2. I'm all about uploading videos now. You can see more of my wonderful family by clicking here (again, let me know if that works for you -- I think it will, but I'd like to be sure).
3. I briefly overcame laziness today and uploaded my photos from February and March. Click here to see the insane cuteness.
4. Interesting posts will resume one of these days, I promise.
28 March 2006
look what i can do!
Luckily, James' need for constant attention can now be met, sometimes, by his adoring little brother. And thanks to their incredibly internet-savvy mother (yep, that's the third-person there) you can now delight in these little boys too!
and i'm back
I realize that I've been delinquent in updating this blog, and I'm sure the four of you who read this are terribly disappointed in me. Forgive me! While I was away for the weekend, our computer crashed and died and we had to re-install Windows and re-do practically everything, and in the process I lost the notes and outline I was working on for a really fabulous post. (Yes, I made notes and an outline for a blog post -- I was intending to include lots of links, and was attempting to stay organized and coherent rather than just throwing together a post. And yes, I know the computer problems don't explain why I wasn't updating for weeks before that. So what?)
I'm not sure whether I'll attempt to replicate the post; I'm not sure the topic would be current enough now that I've read about it in a million different places. I'll have to figure out whether or not I have anything new to say about the issue. (You'd love to know what the topic is, wouldn't you? All four of you.)
The boys and I were at my mom's this weekend, seeing my sisters (and one sister's family) for the first time since November. The influence of being in a crowded, noisy house for a weekend has turned my baby into a screecher. Excited? Frustrated? Happy? Tired? Screech! And it over-tired both of my children to a nearly intolerable point, a condition which we are working diligently and quickly to remedy.
And it's spring! The trees are budding, plants are emerging from the earth -- even in my little garden which gets literally no sunlight, some little plants are beginning to peek out of the ground. And now that the weather is nicer, I'll be able to send James outside more often, leaving me plenty of time to blog, you lucky readers! All four of you.
13 March 2006
a phone call from a poem
As a lover of all things poetic, I think this is an incredible and fabulous idea: my city's local writers' organization has set up, in front of their building, a British-style bright red phone booth to read poetry to those who pick up the phone. The poems are all written and read by local poets, too.
I've always been of the opinion that the world at large could use a little more poetry; maybe this will help spread the love. Now I've got to find some time to head down there and shut myself into that phone booth for a little while.
06 March 2006
we are not abusive...
Our baby is learning to walk. He turned 9 months yesterday and took his first steps -- one single step on two different occasions. The problem with this is that Evan is incredibly accident-prone (he must have inherited my clumsy gene). We were lucky with James, who seemed to have a built-in sense of caution that kept him from hurting himself too badly. But Evan, poor sweet little Evan, constantly overestimates his abilities, and consequently falls down pretty regularly. Now that he is trying to walk he's bruising his face and it makes me feel like a terrible parent, like someone is going to suspect we're abusive. But anyone who's ever been around a kid this age is probably aware that they fall a lot. Some, like mine, more than most.
And now, a photo of the ugly bump my baby gave his forehead this afternoon:
an open letter to hollywood
Dear Hollywood,
One of my most-anticipated nights of the year has come and gone, and I have to say I'm more than a little disappointed. You know I love you dearly, Hollywood, so the following criticisms are not meant to hurt, but to help.
I liked the idea of the "Return to Glamour" at first -- reminiscent of the Hollywood of the '30s and '40s, when everyone was painfully gorgeous. And last night, yes, Hollywood's best and brightest were indeed gorgeous and composed. But don't you see, Hollywood? Gorgeous and composed are not why we watch the Academy Awards! Where were the fashion disasters? Where were the political statements? Where were the crazy impromptu antics? Where were the drunken missteps? Where was the fun, Hollywood?
Oh, sure, you all looked pretty. You all, for the most part, had politely boring acceptance speeches. But what we want from you is spectacle! We want to be able to gloat that we have better fashion taste than Gwyneth Paltrow; we want to sneer that we'd never cry during our speech; we want to be astonished when an Adrien Brody spontaneously smooches a Halle Berry onstage! What we want, in short, is to stargaze, while being allowed to feel slightly superior from time to time. Yes, Naomi Watts' dress made me chuckle a bit, as did Lauren Bacall stumbling over every other word in the montage intro she read. But overall, Hollywood, you let me down, and you let America down by having the blandest, most white-bread Academy Awards ceremony in years.
And a personal note to Jon Stewart: if I were the type to write fan mail, you'd know how much I adore you. But your humor, your intelligent wit is far too subtle to entertain the public on the scale that we're craving to be entertained on Oscar night. Look, we all hate Billy Crystal, but he knows how to bring the obnoxious, overbearing inanity we expect in an awards host! Jon, your talents are much better suited to the Daily Show, where I hope you will stay forever, or at least until you run for President.
Here's the bottom line, Hollywood: in a year when no one in America saw any of the movies nominated for awards, you shouldn't have expected the actual films to carry the show. Every year there are fewer and fewer quality films for Americans to see, which makes it more and more important that the stars step it up and entertain us with their zany antics. If you can't reliably bring the entertainment to the big screen, then you'd all best bring it to the little screen for that one night a year when we're counting on it.
To paraphrase Lisa Simpson: I write this letter not to nag or whine, but to prod. You can better yourselves!
Love and hugs,
Heidi
01 March 2006
more baby weirdness
Greg and I are in the kitchen tonight when we hear happy baby noises -- cooing, squealing, babbling, the really happy stuff. We peek into the living room to see what he's doing, and find that James has trapped Evan under a laundry basket, which Evan cannot remove, but Evan's not trying to remove it. He loves his little cage! He peers out at us, grinning, and plays happily under the laundry basket for another 10 minutes or so. I'll have to remember this the next time I need to confine him for a few minutes...*
And since I haven't written anything of substance lately, I'll at least post a cute picture of my kids.
*Kidding. Really.
27 February 2006
other kids have imaginary friends...
James: "Someone was following me outside, but I didn't see anyone, and Kalia didn't see anyone, and my invisible cuckoo clock didn't see anyone..."
24 February 2006
maybe i'm a giant dork...
...but, when depressed and disillusioned about politics, there is nothing quite like America's Funniest Home Videos to lighten your mood. People falling down! People getting hit in the groin! Farting! Babies putting things up their noses! Pigs drinking beer!
Life's small pleasures, you know...
21 February 2006
on gender differences and parenting
I've been thinking some more lately about the "boy crisis" and about the differences between boys and girls in general. I've just finished reading Mismeasure of Women: Why Women Are Not the Better Sex, the Inferior Sex, or the Opposite Sex, by Carol Tavris, and it gave me a lot to think about. It was written in 1992, so it's not exactly current, but also not completely outdated. I'd like to believe that culture has changed at least a little since this book was written, or maybe I am privileged by the company I keep, because I don't see that some of the assumptions that Tavris bases her arguments on are clearly the standard of American thinking today. (And Greg informs me that medical research as described in the book has certainly improved over the last decade.)
It was a good read, and although I didn't agree entirely with everything Tavris wrote, I felt I learned a lot, particularly in examining the way I think about gender. I thought it was a timely read, too, coming on the heels of the Newsweek article and the general uproar in the blogosphere over what to do about poor disadvantaged American boys. Let me say before I get too far that I haven't come to any kind of a clear conclusion on this topic, but it's something I think will give me a lot of thought, especially while my boys are growing up.
But there's one thing I want to focus on in this post, one buzzword that keeps cropping up all over the place: hardwired. People use this word to explain all kinds of things, but I'm not sure I'm buying it. If boys are hardwired, for example, to be more aggressive than girls, than won't my boys naturally prefer football and wrestling to tennis and golf, even if I encourage them otherwise? If boys' brains are hardwired in favor of math and science over reading, then why are there male novelists, why are there female scientists, why does James love to read so much? If boys are hardwired to be less nurturing than girls, I had better start saving for retirement and old age now, since I can't rely on my boys to take care of me when I'm eighty.
There are differences between men and women, obviously, in biology and physiology and body chemistry. But are there really such significant effects from those differences? I think there's a danger in labelling certain behaviors or characteristics as "hardwired" -- it's too simplistic. It lets us off the hook for taking responsibility for ourselves and our children. To write off male aggression, for example, as "hardwired", "boys will be boys" behavior, normalizes the behavior and frees men, or the parents of boys, from taking responsibility for the effects of that aggression.
To label certain characteristics as "hardwired" denies that people can or should change, and maybe I'm too idealistic, but I think that can't be true. If my boys are "hardwired" to have certain behaviors, certain aptitudes, then why am I putting such effort into parenting them at all? If they're naturally meant to be aggressive, then why should I discipline them for hitting another kid? Should I expect James to listen to his (female) preschool teacher, to sit quietly and pay attention when required at school, if society doesn't believe he should have to act like a civil human being? This is what really gets me about this "hardwired" stuff -- I take it as a personal insult. It implies that there are certain facets of my childrens' personalities, their very beings, over which I have no influence. If that's the case, why did I take this job in the first place? It's the old nature vs nurture debate, and a lot of people seem to be coming down on the side of nature lately. Well, I can't do it. I can't believe that my nurturing will have no effect on my children, or I might as well stop right now.
20 February 2006
slowly going crazy
Or, A Glimpse into the Life of a Seriously Sleep-Deprived Mother.
If someone, anyone, had come to me at 5am this morning and offered to adopt my baby, I would have gladly handed him over without a word. Well, maybe not, but those were the kind of thoughts running through my head at that hour. Last night, to the best of our collective memories (Greg, my mom, and me), Evan woke up 6 times at least. I was in bed for 9 hours, after dozing on the couch for perhaps an hour, but no amount of sleep is enough if it's coming in 2-hour increments. I've become a coffee drinker simply to function in the morning. I encourage quiet activities for my rambunctious preschooler because I don't have the energy to keep up with him, and I'm too short-tempered to deal with shouting. Sometimes I accidentally fall asleep on the couch while the boys are playing.
This doesn't happen every day, thank goodness, but it happens. Today is one of those days where I will be looking forward all day long for Greg to come home and then I will retreat into what little quiet I can find. It's been at least 10 months since I've had a full night's sleep. When I'm feeling too sorry for myself, I think about how lucky I am that I only have to deal with children on a daily basis. I can't imagine what my life would be like if I had to go to work every day and function in a real job with performance standards and requirements, after a long night of broken sleep. On days like today I feel incredibly fortunate that I set my own schedule, I determine my own work, I can fall asleep on the couch if I really need to, and what I don't do today can most likely be put off until tomorrow when I may be a little more rested and capable of dealing.
And when I'm really feeling sorry for myself, like today, I remember that someday my baby will sleep through the night, someday... and if not, he will be out of the house in another 18 years. At least there's that.
11 February 2006
drunk on the sunshine
On a rare sunny winter's day here in Rochester, my eight-month old is so excited by the shadows on the floor from the window blinds that he is crawling back and forth across the floor, just laughing. Babies are weird.
07 February 2006
i knew the girl wasn't bright...
...but this is pretty horrifying, even for Britney Spears. Now, I've really been trying to stay away from celebrity news -- I was a little too into celebrities for a while, so I broke the habit. But celebrities are like train wrecks -- very beautiful and expensive train wrecks that compel you to watch until the gruesome end. An added bonus is the superiority an ordinary person feels at these train wrecks, because even if you're not glamorous and richer than God, at least you've got a brain in your head.
Anyway, to escape from the brutal, aggressive paparazzi, Britney drove off in her car with her five-month-old baby in her lap. Right in front of the paparazzi, who, you know, have cameras. It's especially mind-boggling when you consider that encounters with paparazzi have caused celebrities to get into accidents. If she had hit anything -- even had to slam on the brakes for something -- her baby could have been seriously injured. She couldn't have taken the thirty seconds it requires to strap an infant into his car seat? No, his safety from the terrible paparazzi was more important than his safety from traffic accidents, which could potentially kill him.
I wonder, since there are photographs, whether anything will come of this, or if it will be another case of a celebrity getting away with blatant illegal behavior thanks to money and fame?
06 February 2006
my feminist boyfriend
So, Greg is not exactly a feminist, although he sympathizes with and supports plenty of feminist causes. But I find it funny, when I'm reading a book on feminism and trying to explain a feminist viewpoint to him, that I also have to explain the sexist stereotype or belief that the feminist viewpoint is trying to counter, because the sexism doesn't come naturally to him. And that is something that makes me very, very happy.
03 February 2006
human-animal hybrids and the culture of life
Okay, so after posting yesterday, thanks to a discussion with Greg and a link from Kim, I've learned that there is some truth to Bush's "human-animal hybrids" remark -- but that he or his speechwriter chose a pretty vague and misleading term to describe it. To say "human-animal hybrid" brings to mind The Island of Dr Moreau, or hybrid creatures such as satyrs, centaurs, minotaurs, or chimeras -- which is actually what the scientific community is calling the results of their research and experimentation. The images brought to mind by Bush's terminology are probably helpful in creating the opposition he desires, though: in mythology, these hybrid creatures were often dangerous or immoral, and in the case of Dr Moreau, those who create such creatures are totally insane.
But what Bush is probably referring to is actually legitimate scientific research, and potentially very useful, as this National Geographic article describes. As Greg reminded me last night, some animal parts are currently transplanted into humans, such as heart valves. The link Kim left in my comments describes how scientists are putting human genes into mice to study Down's syndrome. Scientists all over the world are combining human parts (for lack of a better, all-encompassing term) with animal parts to create these new chimeras. This research is being done to study human conditions to better understand how to treat them.
Now, I understand that there are ethical concerns in playing around with DNA and creating things that God or nature never thought of. But the more I know about Bush and science, the more I am convinced that his "culture of life" does not extend to actual, living human beings with actual debilitating medical conditions (unless, perhaps, they're practically braindead), or to those who've committed crimes, or to civilians who become casualties of war, or to women who find themselves pregnant and unable to continue the pregnancy for whatever reason, or to poor people in general, but is limited only to cells that have the potential of becoming human life. His inconsistency in being concerned for life continually astounds me, as his policies so often neglect those living people who are truly in need of help.
If medical research will allow us to save the lives of those who are already living, to improve the health of living people, then I think we're obligated to do whatever we can to help these people. Is it ethical to let them continue to suffer when we might have the technology to help them? It reminds me of the Plan B article I linked to yesterday, in the sense that some people in authority are so concerned about what some people might do (teenagers might have sex, scientists might get carried away), that they're denying lots of people the benefits of science and medicine that could change or even save their lives. And to me, that's not a culture of life.
02 February 2006
quickies
- I'm amazing: it's only Feb. 2 and I've got our January photos uploaded. More to come once I've tweaked a few, for nit-picky composition reasons.
- I was premature in calling penicillin "sweet" in an earlier post. I don't think I've ever had penicillin before, and I'm finding we don't like each other much. It may be giving Evan a few difficulties as well, though that's still just my suspicion until I'm concerned enough to call the doctor. So: strep is gone, but still not feeling top-notch.
- My good local paper (the "alternative newsweekly") has a great article this week featuring "an insider's story of political influence in the FDA" -- the paper interviewed the former director of the Food and Drug Administration's Office of Women's Health. She talks about what happened to Plan B (the "morning after pill"): "...the science and the medical evidence had been overruled. Women's health and the public health were not the priority here." Scary stuff; a great read.
- I must have missed it when I was not watching the State of the Union address, but Bush, when talking about ethics and morals in medical research, apparently mentioned... human-animal hybrids. What? Seriously, what is he talking about? Are there actually scientists working on this that I'm unaware of? I... don't understand who gave him his information.
01 February 2006
and i live in a liberal city
Two letters to the editor of my local paper caught my eye this morning (2nd and 3rd down). They each make some interesting remarks about parenting that I took issue with -- and it's interesting, because they each seem innocent enough at first, but neither actually squares with reality.
I'll start with the second, because it's the less malicious of the two:
Since the 1960s, motherhood in our society has been considered a calling that is of little value. However, since we have been witnessing the destruction of the American family, more mothers of today are choosing to stay at home with their children. They are discovering that a successful career is not based on monetary earnings but on the satisfaction of being able to personally participate in the raising of a new generation of good citizens. There is no greater power.
Still true today is the well-known phrase, "The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world."
At first I liked this letter. Anything that praises motherhood can't be all bad. I agree that little value is put on being a stay-at-home-mom (although I disagree that motherhood itself, as the writer says, is of little value; on the contrary, it's society's highest calling for a woman). But it was the end of the letter that gave me pause: "There is no greater power" than raising a new generation of good citizens. I do think it's important that parents raise their children well, but to say that this gives mothers power? What kind of power is she talking about? Not economic, not political, not personal. Oh, right, the power of changing the world a generation down the road through those good citizens she's raised. She'd better hope she has boys, though, because any daughters will presumably be making the best use of their time by raising still more good citizens.
And "the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world"? It's a nice thought, but I'd like to be given one example where power and change have come from those who stayed home and raised babies. Which societies, which communities exactly, have been ruled by mothers? Last I knew, the world was being run by white men, precious few of whom ever literally rocked any cradles. The women who won suffrage, the men and women who triumphed in the Civil Rights movement, the women who broke barriers in the corporate world in the '70s and '80s, all did so not because they were raising their children in the hopes of their children creating a better world, but because they took initiative themselves to change the world where they saw injustice.
I do value child-rearing, more than most people, I suspect, since I know firsthand what a difficult job it is. But I'm under no illusions that this job gives me any kind of power, except over my children, and sometimes not even then. Because even children are individual, autonomous beings, and even kids raised by a stay-at-home parent can become addicted to drugs, or commit crimes, or become racist or sexist or an asshole. Parenting is about laying a foundation, preparing your child for the world, but there comes a point where you have to cross your fingers and hope there are no earthquakes or floods headed his way. It all comes down to what your child does with what you've given him, and you really have no power over what happens.
No, the power in this sitaution resides with whoever convinced this woman that being a throwback to the 1950s gives her any kind of power.
The second letter pretends to blame parents for society's ills, but underhandedly places the blame squarely on mothers' shoulders:
You like that? He never mentions mothers specifically, but he doesn't have to. Because who is typically the head of a single-parent family? That's right, a mother. And who can have children by multiple fathers? Yep, women. Why isn't he asking how many different women those men have fathered children with? Why isn't he calling for absent fathers to become more involved with their children, or calling for stricter enforcement of child support laws? He might as well come right out and say that social programs should be abolished because he doesn't want his tax dollars supporting those slutty single mothers who force the community to raise their children while they engage in "bad behavior", whatever that entails."We as voters and taxpayers in New York have allowed our elected officials to put into place social programs that exonerate recipients of any responsibility for their actions. It is a system that rewards bad behavior, enables and promotes single-parent families, often with multiple fathers, and removes incentive for these people to change... It does not take a village to raise a child; it takes a committed parent to raise a child."
You know, I hate the individualistic attitude some people have. No one is asking you to raise anyone else's children. But as a society we are dooming ourselves to failure if we don't support those who need help, particularly children. Because guess what? Some parents can't get the job done alone. I don't think this guy has any idea what it's like to be poor and dependent on social programs for your very survival. It's not exactly paradise to deal with overworked social workers, or to deal with the stigma attached to public assistance, or, you know, to not be self-sufficient. Are some parents lazy? Are some abusing the system? Sure, but some are also employed, some have left abusive situations, some have been laid off, some are grad students with families who get paid next to nothing. Nobody plans to be on welfare, on food stamps, on Medicaid. But things happen unexpectedly, and that's what social programs are for: to help those who need help. Not to support them or "enable" them. And as for providing no incentive for change, well, I can tell you right now that this man has never visited a social services office in the middle of a weekday to renew his Medicaid coverage, because that alone is enough to encourage a person to get out of the system.
Obviously the ideal is that parents will be the primary providers and caretakers of their children. But the reality is that that's not always possible. So should we promote an impossible ideal, or should we face up to reality and deal with the situation as it actually exists? Should we punish children for the shortcomings of their parents by cutting social programs, or should we simply help those who need help? And that's not to say we should be handing out the fish -- teaching them to fish, giving them a rod and reel to start with, should be part of the program. As the "motherhood is power" woman said, these are American's future citizens, future leaders. It's in society's best interest to help all of those citizens live up to their potential, because unfortunately, parents can't or won't always do that. I wonder if the author of this letter sincerely believes that cutting social programs will benefit those who are now depending on them? I can't figure out if people like this man actually can't understand what it's like to be poor, or if they aren't even trying to understand.
Unfortunately, these are pretty common attitudes that I've come across more than a few times. But there are so many issues parents have to deal with -- I don't think it helps anyone to universally praise or condemn any one class of parents. There are already so many ridiculous expectation put on parents that adding more to the pile of things we won't be able to live up to won't benefit anyone. Is it too much to ask that we accept that all people and situations are different, and no one solution is right for everyone?
30 January 2006
the worst thing about being a stay-at-home-mom...
...is that you don't get sick days.
Here I was, priding myself on having not gotten sick yet all winter, especially when everyone else in my house has been sick with various things at various times. And then what do I do? I go and get strep throat. This comes right on the heels of James' ear infection and Evan's ridiculously horrible diaper rash, so we have not had a break from illness and malady in this house for some time now.
Today was day three of strep, and I felt really terrible and tired. So I called in a favor and got a friend to babysit the boys for a couple of hours so I could nap. And gosh, was that nice not to have to worry about them for a while. I felt so grateful to have someone who would watch my kids so I could put myself first for once. Then this afternoon I went to the doctor and got sweet, sweet penicillin. So hopefully things will soon be back to normal.
28 January 2006
baby cuisine
You'd think, looking at my porker of a baby, that those rolls come from a love of food. Well, yes, and no. Evan has always been a big fan of the breastmilk, but it's been a struggle to get him interested in baby food, even food I've made myself. But lately we've had some exciting breakthroughs: the baby who wouldn't eat mashed bananas has decided he loves banana chunks; the baby who could only eat vegetables mixed with rice cereal to dull the strong flavors has decided he loves cheddar cheese; the baby who turned his nose up at almost anything offered in a plastic bowl will eat almost anything if it first comes from the dining room table. Just when I thought crawling would start to melt his chub away, he discovers a love of more food.
27 January 2006
my creative child
This afternoon I came across an interesting drawing James had done. It was a picture of a sad person, and when I asked why the person was sad, I got a disturbing look into my child's mind: turns out someone had stolen his eye. There is one normal eye on the face, one gaping red eye socket, and a gigantic frown. Once I asked, James added an arm reaching in from the side of the picture, holding Sad Person's eyeball.
While I do find it a morbid topic for a four-year-old, I'm also impressed with the creativity -- I can't think of anywhere he might have picked up the idea of plucking someone's eye out. I have to say, the kid never ceases to surprise me.
the trouble with boys
Newsweek's cover story this week is called "The Trouble with Boys." The cover calls it "The Boy Crisis." Naturally, as a mother of two boys, I'm wondering what's causing this panic. The problem? Boys as a group are falling behing girls, academically, in all levels of education. Why? Author Peg Tyre blames biological, developmental and physiological differences, along with curricula and standards that apparently favor girls, including sitting still and behaving, among other things.
This reminds me of remarks made by the president of Harvard last year on the innate differences between the sexes. Some people, naturally, are blaming feminism for the problems of boys. A 17-year-old boy has even filed a complaint against his high school, alleging that the school system favors girls and discriminates against boys. An interesting quote from this high school senior: "The system is designed to the disadvantage of males," Anglin said. ''From the elementary level, they establish a philosophy that if you sit down, follow orders, and listen to what they say, you'll do well and get good grades. Men naturally rebel against this."
Here's what I'm confused about: when our modern educational system was created, more than a century ago, there was, as far as I know, a strict expectation of obedience and good behavior. Generations of American men were educated in this system and have gone on to make America the most powerful nation in the world. But now, all of sudden, when girls start outperforming boys, it's a crisis! There must be something wrong with the system!
I like how no one is even entertaining the possibility that girls might be smarter than boys. I'm not saying this is necessarily true, but for most people it's not even an option. I find it interesting, though, that girls, who were grudgingly admitted into a system created by men, for men, and who in the last few decades were given a more even playing field with Title IX, are now surpassing boys in performance, and that this automatically means there is something wrong with the system. Girls are turning out to be better suited to the academic system men created, so we must change the system. Girls are not smarter; the system that served men for so long is suddenly biased.
And I wonder how much of it is "hard-wired," as the article says, and how much is culturally and societally influenced. The "boys will be boys" mentality is still very widespread: boys are naturally more energetic, rambunctious, and agressive than girls and these inborn qualities should be indulged; girls, meanwhile, should be encouraged to play quietly. When I was in school, well, I was the kind of kid who chose to read and play quietly, but I understood that in a school environment, these were the universal expectations of every child. There was a time and place to shout, to act up, to let off some steam. The classroom during school hours was not that place. If you didn't comply, you got sent to the office. You were disciplined, or suspended, or expelled. Now, if you don't comply with expectations, you can play the victim, file a complaint against your school and ask that they retroactively raise your grades.
You know, it reminds me of many of the kids I know, my preschooler included: losing the game? Change the rules. Blame someone else for your failures and shortcomings. What I'm trying to teach James already, when he makes excuses, is to take responsibility for himself. It's interesting to note that in my high school class, 11 of the top twenty students were girls, and two of those girls were teenage mothers. Two teenage girls with babies at home outperformed a majority of the boys in their class. This wasn't because of some bias in favor of girls -- this was because they took responsibility for themselves and succeeded, just like every other kid who earned a spot in that top twenty.
I would think that after so many years of boys succeeding in a structured environment where they are required to sit still and pay attention, it would be evident that they can meet difficult expectations whether it's in their nature to or not. It's evident to me after only four years: I have a rambunctious little boy; I know how hard it is to rein in an active child. But even James, at age four, is beginning to understand that there are things expected of him that he may not like and may not want to do, but that he will do.
If it's true that this is becoming a trend in America, girls outperforming boys in academics, then I wonder if in twenty or thirty years, we'll see a corresponding shift in the gender make-up of the professions. Will a 60/40 ratio of women to men in college in 2006 turn into, say, a 60/40 ratio of women to men in medicine, in law, in government, in science, in 2036? If women become the dominant professional leaders in society, will women as a group finally be paid equally to men for the same job? Call me pessimistic, but I think not. Although, my views on this have more to do with our cultural discrimination against mothers -- all parents, really, but particularly mothers -- but that's a post for another day.
All in all, I think the panic over boys' academic performance is overblown. I think there probably is something wrong with the educational system, but that the problem has less to do with gender than with schools' tendencies to lump kids together without allowing enough flexibility for kids who don't fit the mold. Newsweek does mention some things that could help kids who are falling behind -- both mentoring programs and single-sex classrooms have shown to improve kids' performances. But you know, when my boys get to public school, no matter how the system has changed by then, they will understand that good behavior and attentive work habits are expected of them; we will help them, but for most people learning is work, and if you want to succeed you will work for it.
(Dawn, and any other teachers I know who might happen to be reading this, I'd be interested in your opinion on this topic from the point of view of an educator. Thoughts?)
26 January 2006
ahhhhhh....
....peace and quiet. This is so nice.
James woke up vomiting Sunday morning (all over his pillow, I might add... so gross) and since then he's sometimes had a high fever, a cough, no appetite. been sluggish and sleepy, but has also at times been completely fine. And Evan during the same time has been acting weird, too, probably because of his cold -- he's congested, doesn't sleep, is clingy and cranky and wanting to be held all the time. Thanks to this, I have been cooped up in the house with the little invalids for the better part of four days, and on near-constant duty.
So. After four days of this, James woke up this morning bouncing off the walls, so off to preschool he went. Evan actually went down for a nap very easily this morning. And this leaves me with some rare time totally to myself. So I've just thrown some Hawaiian Bread in the oven, put some PJ Harvey on the stereo, made some chamomile tea, and I am using the computer without being climbed on, tugged at, or bombarded with questions.
Some days, life just doesn't get any better than this.
24 January 2006
saying goodbye
I hate saying goodbye. One of the drawbacks of living in student housing, though, is that it happens on a pretty regular basis. Everyone leaves sooner or later, and now that we're halfway through our fifth year, families we've come to know and love are all starting to leave. By the end of this summer I don't think there will be anyone left in the neighborhood who was here when we moved in.
Today is a sad day. One of my close friends, who I've known for over three years now, and her daughter, who's been a close friend of James' for that time, left to move to Missouri this afternoon (with the rest of their family). I managed not to cry when saying goodbye, but it'll come later. She was of the first friends I made here who was also a mother, also a liberal in this conservative neighborhood, also into good books and girl talk -- none of these things is enough on its own, but combine them with a sense of humor, warmth, and good conversation and she's a friend who will be very much missed.
James will also be losing a good friend -- someone with whom he's spent hours and hours of playtime, at each other's homes and at the playgrounds and sandboxes, someone who he bickers with like a sibling, someone he looks up to, someone he has learned from, someone he loves. It will be a hard adjustment for both of us to lose our friends.
16 January 2006
wisdom from a preschooler
James, as the credits on Sesame Street start rolling: "Mom, can you please turn off the TV? Or else my brain won't feel good anymore, and my eyes will crack open."
I've never said anything about TV making his eyes crack open, but I have told him that watching too much TV is bad for his body and his brain. Maybe the kid does listen to some of the things I say.
13 January 2006
Friday photos
Took these photos at the zoo today, because it was 60 freaking degrees today. In January. In Rochester. I also got some photos of tortoises mating (which they seem to do every time I'm there) but I figured that's not really blog material. Not this blog, anyway.
Happy weekend, everyone.
09 January 2006
and on to year 5
Me: "You're the coolest 4-year-old I know."
James: "You're the coolest 50-year-old I know."
And so ended my son's 4th birthday. We were either wonderful or terrible parents yesterday, letting James make his own choices for just about everything. Thus we had lunch and playtime at McDonald's, and a shopping spree in Toys 'R Us with a couple of gift cards, where James picked out a light-up/noisy volcano for his train set, and a set of dinosaur stamps with ink pads. Then home to open presents from Grandma Christine, who spent the weekend with us. Dinner was hot dogs, followed by a cake made to very precise specifications: "A big round vanilla cake with chocolate frosting and a big number 4 made out of M&Ms." Who knew a cake could still be delicious after being dropped twice (pre-frosting)? We topped the day off with some rowdy balloon play, and sang Christmas carols instead of a bedtime story. James declared it a great birthday, and I think the rest of us enjoyed it too.
06 January 2006
home again
Well, after two and a half weeks and lots of traveling, we are finally home, and glad to be here. We had a great time with Greg's family in Washington. The kids were spoiled, of course, but I suppose they deserve it once in a while. James got to ride Grandma's horse, Snickers, a couple of times, and liked to help Papa walk the dogs. He spent a lot of time drawing (he got a lot of art supplies for Christmas) and a lot of time playing with the Schmidts' vast Lego and Transformer collections. His reading is really starting to take off, which we're all excited about. He also got to spend some quality time playing with Greg's 6-year-old cousin Kyle, who loves Star Wars possibly even more than James does.
Evan was a little overwhelmed by all the new people at first, but he soon settled in and loved all the attention he got. (Poor kid will have to learn to live without that again.) Surprisingly, he loved the dogs once he got used to them. He did learn very quickly to turn his face away when Lucky approached, though, to avoid those sloppy doggy kisses Lucky loves to give. Over the course of two weeks, Evan not only perfected pulling himself up to a sitting position, but also crawling and pulling himself up to standing. That last one makes me a little nervous, as he will try to pull up on anything. Now we've really got to get around to babyproofing the house.
We had a nice Christmas, saw all of Greg's family, played lots of Settlers of Catan with its various expansions (always important), slept in now and then, spent New Year's Eve in Seattle with Greg's friends, watched lots of movies, played lots of games (including DDR! my favorite), and we even got a night out without the kiddos for Greg's brother Scott's 21st birthday. I couldn't ask for much more out of a vacation.
Now we are home, with lots of unpacking and cleaning to do. James' birthday is on Sunday, so my mom is coming this weekend to celebrate with us. I have a lot to do in preparation -- find a birthday present, bake a cake, and lots and lots of cleaning. No more of the laziness of vacation. But I am glad to be home. It's very pretty and snowy here, and I slept in my own bed last night with cozy flannel sheets, and now I can play DDR every day and maybe shed a little of the holiday weight I surely gained from all of the wonderful food we had.
Hope everyone else had a wonderful holiday!
15 December 2005
thank you, tv
James' latest: shouting "I'm a genius!" at random. I asked, and of course he doesn't know what it means, because he's a parrot who mimics any kind of catchphrase he hears. This one is from the movie "Ice Age", and the character who says it is quite definitely not a genius. Maybe I shouldn't have told James what it means -- once I told him, he seemed to think it a pretty fitting description of himself. Now he'll be saying it all the time, I'm sure, and that might get a little annoying. Although it is pretty funny to hear James announce that he's a genius because he drew a picture of a dog going through a car wash.
13 December 2005
you don't need a nanny to achieve equality
Last night I was watching one of those Nanny shows, where a proper British nanny comes into an American family's home and teaches the parents to deal with their children and with each other and generally improves their home life. (I know, but it was on after Arrested Development and I got sucked in. When you have six TV channels, one of them being PAX, sometimes you will watch anything.) I found last night's episode compelling in a train-wreck sort of way. It was a family with six children, the oldest age 8, a stay-at-home mom, and a working dad who was also really involved in church activities.
I was kind of appalled to see a family operating the way theirs does (or did, before the magic nanny). Not totally surprised, because I've seen similar examples among my very religious neighbors, although none of them have six children, which certainly makes a difference. In this family, the father was home, apparently, a couple of hours a day at most, and was totally uninvolved and clueless when it came to the children. The children were wild, out of control, disrespectful, shrieking little banshees. The mother was obviously overwhelmed, overworked and exhausted.
What really got to me was the father. He just had no idea. He actually said at one point that his time was too valuable to spend it with his children! This idea that there is no value to child-rearing, to raising the next generation to become responsible, capable, well-adjusted adults is all too prevalent in our culture. It totally perpetuates the condecension -- from both men and women -- toward stay-at-home parents and the work we do. For a husband to say this is totally disrespectful of his wife, and it's unfair to his children in that it denies them a real relationship with their father.
But anyway, one day, the nanny made the mother go out by herself, leaving dad in charge. He called his wife after an hour to ask when she was coming home. He had no idea what to make the children for lunch. He had no idea what to do with them, or how to interact. He managed to LOSE one of the children. She went out by herself and he didn't even notice she was missing until the nanny pointed it out.
Now, truthfully, I've never in my own life seen such an incompetent father. I know the particulars of this case are extreme. But I hardly think the situation is atypical. The ideas behind it, the gender roles involved, are still pretty mainstream. Children are the mother's responsibility. The father has the right and the freedom to pursue his own interests. This ties in with some things I've been reading online about whether feminism is still necessary in America. Even though women have equal opportunities in education and work, even though women are active in traditionally male fields of employment, even though women in this country are more powerful now than at any point in our nation's history -- as long as their are still culturally prescribed gender roles to dictate the differents rights and responsibilities of women and men, then I would say yes, there is still a need for feminism. We may have achieved equality in the workplace, but not in my workplace. Not in the home.
I feel very fortunate, however, that my household is pretty equal in terms of freedoms and duties. I think Greg understands by now that my responsibility is to James and Evan, to making sure that they are happy and well cared for. If some housework happens to get done in a day, great. But to complete all the housework, or even a major portion of it during a day comes at the expense of spending time with and caring for my children. That's not a trade off I'm willing to make. And so Greg helps with the housework. And he takes care of the children so that I can have the occasional night off from my full-time job. Maybe it helped that we grew up in families with non-traditional structures. I was raised by a single mother, whereas Greg had both parents at home, but his mother was the breadwinner. I think that due to these examples, and those of our siblings as well, our boys will grow up with an understanding that in relationships, in families, in households, there are no prescribed gender roles, despite the fact that we have a more traditional family structure at the moment.
The nanny, of course, ultimately solved the TV family's division-of-labor problems. She challenged the father and helped him see that a change was needed to ensure the happiness of everyone in the family. And that's what's really important in a family unit -- happiness, everyone's happiness. The rest is just details.
Imagine -- we managed to figure it out without a magic TV nanny to guide us. If only that were possible for everyone.
12 December 2005
crawling!
Well, almost. Evan is trying so hard, he almost has it... if only he would take his thumb out of his mouth, it might be a little easier to get going. He's very nearly there, though. He knows where he wants to go, and he does eventually get there, albeit very slowly. And that's what's so sneaky -- if we're not watching him closely, he creeps to where he wants to go before we know it. And where does he want to go? Almost always toward James, trying to get at whatever James is playing with, or just trying to get to James himself. And if he gets to James (or me, or Greg)? He is already trying to pull himself up. He gets to his knees already, using one of us to climb on.
I am not ready for this. My last baby is supposed to be a baby for a little longer.
08 December 2005
on santa
Now that James is almost 4, we are at an age of learning to tell the difference between fantasy and reality. Now that the Christmas season is upon us, we are facing the Santa issue. What to do?
I don't really feel comfortable telling the Santa story to James as if it were truth. When I was a kid, the tags on the gifts said they were from Santa, but we knew it was Mom. We recognized her handwriting. That, and she never really tried to convince us otherwise. So I knew from early on that Santa was a myth. Yet I was a kid who really enjoyed fantasy, and I pretended to believe because I wanted the magic.
This year is the first year that James has really had questions about Santa, and I hesitate in my answers, qualifying them with statements like "some people believe" and "the Santa story says". Earlier this week after I'd been shopping for Christmas presents, he asked me why I got the presents instead of Santa. On the spot, I couldn't really think of a good way to answer, so I told him that Santa is pretend, a story, and that we buy gifts at Christmas for the people we love. After all, if he thinks that Christmas presents magically appear, how will he learn the joy of giving gifts? I thought maybe that would be it for Santa.
Then, today, in the car, out of nowhere, James tells me, "Mom, I believe in Santa." I said okay. Then he asked if today, we could ride the Polar Express to the North Pole. I told him that the Polar Express is pretend, there is no train to the North Pole, and even if there was it would take days to get there. And James just didn't believe me.
So I think in our case Santa is less of an issue than I was expecting. I tell my son the truth, and he doesn't believe me, because books and TV and movies tell him Santa is real, his friends (and lots of grown-ups) talk about Santa, and everywhere he looks in the month of December he sees Santa.
I think James is turning out a lot like I was as a child, at least in instances like this, insisting on fantasy even when he's aware of the reality. In my family, there are two famous stories about my denial of reality: my insistence that my Cabbage Patch doll was a real baby, and telling my second-grade teacher that I had a baby brother. In my mind, these were not lies or delusions; these were things I wanted to be true and so pretended they were. James is very creative and imaginative, and it looks like he's heading down that road of trying to create his own reality. I can't say that I see anything wrong with that.
05 December 2005
pet peeve
The way adults talk to children really irritates me sometimes. And I'm not talking about the high-pitched voices or the baby talk, although those are certainly annoying. I'm talking about many people's inability to realize that mother and child are separate people.
Example: today at the library, a librarian was cooing at Evan, which is fine. "You're so cute! Look at those fat little cheeks!" And then, in the same high-pitched baby voice, "And how old are you?" Sorry, lady, but the drooly gurgling lump in my lap is not going to answer that question. If you were asking me, then ask me and not the baby. It just feels disrespectful when someone expects a response from you, yet doesn't look you in the eye or speak directly to you.
And I'm annoyed by the reverse as well. James is obviously old enough to speak for himself, yet I'm constantly fielding questions about him: how old he is, how does he like the baby, does he go to school. I've taken to redirecting questions about James to him, so if someone asks me how old he is, I then ask James the same question, and he answers. Easy. I hate it when people talk about children rather to them, as if they're not there.
Conclusion: If you have a question for someone, ask him or her directly. If and only if that person is incapable of answering should you then direct the question to that person's parent. Simple enough.
04 December 2005
this stuff only happens to us
We had an Incident in Barnes & Noble this afternoon, the kind of embarrassing thing that only happens to James, or me, or James and me.
We're looking for Greg, who is browsing while we play with Thomas trains. Knowing how James likes escalators, I suggest we look upstairs. We get to the escalator, I ask if he remembers how to use it, I reach for his hand, and... too late. James steps onto the escalator... with one foot. He's pulled into a split and falls onto the escalator, which is now moving beneath him as he struggles for balance. I'm terrified that he's going to lose a hand or his nose to those nasty jagged teeth on the edge of the escalator steps. So I start trying to pull him to his feet, trying not to get pulled onto the escalator myself, all the while hindered by Evan, who I'm wearing in the sling and who is starting to tilt dangerously backwards. Meanwhile, James is literally screaming.
In one heroic effort, I manage to yank James' arm and stand him up, without Evan toppling from the sling, and we ride the escalator to the second floor, James still crying and sniffling a bit. It all lasted approximately two minutes, but that was a scary two minutes for James and me. Evan seemed totally unperturbed by the whole thing. Upstairs, we determine that James has nothing more serious than a scraped knee. We realize Greg is not upstairs, and take the escalator back down, without incident. Downstairs, we run into Greg, who came searching for us after hearing James' scream from another part of the store. We explain, and Greg laughs at us, which is okay, since now that it's over and James isn't hurt, it's starting to seem pretty funny.
I wondered aloud to Greg that no one near us in the store seemed to react when they heard James screaming. Greg pointed out that anyone else probably assumed he was having a tantrum, which, okay, fair enough, it happens. I guess it annoys me because anyone who bothered to look in the direction of the screams would have seen that we were having trouble, and either no one helped, or no one even looked, which both suck. Are children's tantrums so common that no one takes their screams seriously anymore?
Anyway, we're well despite the trauma. We also got our Christmas tree while we were out shopping, and we decorated it tonight while listening to Christmas music and everything feels very peaceful now.
03 December 2005
chomp chomp
Our baby is teething. The first tooth broke through on Sunday, and the second is on its way. It's hard to get a look in his mouth without Evan trying to eat your fingers, so they could both be out by now for all I know. This means less sleep for me, as Evan is now waking up at least fur times a night, sometimes to nurse and sometimes for comfort.
Speaking of my son's mouth, well, I know babies like to suck and chew on everything, but Evan is about the best I've ever seen. Anything that comes near enough his mouth gets lunged at. He loves to suck on Greg's and my fingers. And his thumb! Most of you know that Evan is a thumb-sucker, and there's nothing we can do about it. We've tried the pacifier; he chews and spits it out. And he likes to suck his thumb at the weirdest times. It's hard to get through a meal without his thumb interrupting; he sucks his thumb in his Jolly Jumper, while he's jumping; he'll even pop his thumb in his mouth as I'm tossing him in the air. He just... loves his thumb. We're hoping it won't become a problem, even though we know it probably will eventually.
Anyway, he's a cute baby. The teething is going relatively well; even if I'm losing a little sleep, I can't be mad about it. He's just too adorable.
01 December 2005
the soapbox: feminist boys?
So, it's becoming pretty obvious that I'm terrible at posting regularly. I've been thinking of a lot of things to write about, but I'm not sure if I want to post them in this blog. I mean, I know it's my blog and I can write whatever I want to, but I'm really hesitant to get up on my soapbox and start spouting my views to the world. Because, first, does it even matter? I'm just one person, on one pathetic blog. And second, most of the people reading this already know how I feel about most things anyway.
But on the other hand, it's my blog, and isn't that what blogs are for? Vanity. Egoism. An inflated sense of self-importance. Spouting one's views via soapbox.
To be brief, I guess I'll just say that I've been reading and thinking a lot about feminism lately. What occupies my mind the most is the question of how to raise my boys to be sympathetic to women's issues, to view women's issues as basic human issues, to be aware of the privilege they have simply by virtue of being male. They obviously have a wonderful example from their father, which will be worth a lot. He's not what I'd call a feminist man by any means, but he does listen to me ramble about feminism and women's issues (and even tends to agree with me most of the time). He has supported me in my endeavors both to try to work and to stay home with the boys; he does housework; he does childcare; he treats me -- and the other women in our lives -- wonderfully, with respect. But I worry that a good example might not be enough. I worry that perhaps I won't even figure out just what is enough.
I've been known to complain to Greg about not having any daughters to raise as little feminists. I'm kidding, a little. I do think it would be a challenge to raise feminist girls in this day and age, where things are equal enough that they're rarely questioned by most people, and where many young girls don't fully appreciate the struggles of their predecessors. But I'm beginning to think that it might be even more useful to raise boys to appreciate feminism -- women have been advocating for themselves for years and have made a lot of progress, but I think real cultural change won't occur until people of both genders are demanding equal rights and responsibilities for all adults.
So how do I accmplish this, raising boys to be men who are in favor of gender equality? Who even recognize that there is still inequality that needs to be dealt with? These are the questions I'm pondering lately. And now that I've decided in favor of the soapbox, you can expect to hear more about gender issues in the near future.
23 November 2005
happy thanksgiving!
Happy Thanksgiving from the Mergenthaler Schmidt family!
(James is wearing an American-Indian styleheadband that he made and decorated at preschool. The drawings vary from a tepee and a frog to an alien and a racetrack. And Evan, well, he's just looking delighted, as is the case most of the time. If you click on the photos you can see a larger image.)
Hope everyone has a wonderful holiday!
16 November 2005
popularity
It's come to my attention that my son is a popular preschooler. Anyone who knows him won't be surprised to hear this -- he's incredibly social and active and confident, but also very kind and inclusive. I think he just wants everyone to have as much fun as he has all the time. He's making a lot of friends at preschool; he's even helped one of the more shy boys to come out of his shell and be more interactive with the other kids. And several of the other parents have approached me about getting our kids together for playdates on our off days.
This is great for James, but busy for me. I'm happy that James is getting the chance to develop friendships with his classmates on a one-on-one basis, but all of the planning and driving and socializing and dragging the baby and his paraphernalia all over the place are starting to wear on me. I'm trying to figure out how to balance all of this so that we're not on the go every single day. I'm new to this playdate stuff, so I'm worried about offending someone by refusing playdates even if we're already busy. And I'm thinking about how to get the housework done if I'm not there; and I'm thinking about all the money we're spending on gas just to meet a three-year-old's social obligations; and I'm thinking about how we'll have to reciprocate all of these playdates and how much cleaning and preparation that will involve, espcially if lunch is included; and I'm thinking about how being a stay-at-home mom is not involving being at home as much as I would like these days.
Oh, the woes of a quasi-suburban stay-at-home mom. It seems kind of ridiculous that I'm stressing over excessive playdates, I know. I think I just need to find a comfortable balance that allows James his social interaction, and me the time to do my household duties, and have some rest as well. But where is that balance, and how do I find it? I like hanging out, I like being social... but in limited amounts. Is this the kind of thing I have to sacrifice for the sake of my child's social development? Should he have to forgo playdates because I'm a homebody? I don't think so. There must be a way to do it all, right? :-)
14 November 2005
our baby laughs!
We knew it would happen eventually, but we were so impatient waiting for it. In fact, we knew he could laugh -- we'd heard him do it a few times -- but it was as if he was choosing not to. He's a very happy baby; we had lots of smiles, but silent smiles. A squeal now and then. But finally, finally we have the adorable sounds of baby laughter.
The change in Evan after the weekend is kind of remarkable. It's as if being crowded in one house with my entire family finally convinced him to make himself heard. Not only does he laugh, but he babbles now, which he rarely did before this weekend. All of a sudden he's on to consonants -- ba ba ba. Now that he can talk to and laugh at James, their relationship is really starting to take off. Of course Evan has always been in love with James, but now he can really express it. And James really appreciates getting audible reactions to his antics.
I'm realizing as I write this how boring it might seem. Big news, the baby laughs, he babbles. But seriously! Baby laughter and baby babbling are two of the best, cutest, most wonderful sounds ever. It's a fact.
11 November 2005
vacation!
...Except, not really.
We're spending the weekend at my Mom's with my sisters, their significant others, and my niece. My niece is six weeks older than Evan, so it's always fun to get them together and see how alike and how different they are. It is amazing the difference that six weeks can make in terms of development, and it's also pretty amazing to see how different parents can shape the personalities of their children. If you knew my sister and me, but didn't know which baby was whose, and had to decide, you'd figure it out pretty quickly, I think, probably after about three minutes with them. Maybe I'll write about this in a little more detail after the weekend, and after seeing what the babies are like now.
Speaking of what my baby is like now, Evan has been pretty much refusing to sleep unless he is rocked to sleep, and once he's asleep he will not stay asleep unless he is held. We're working on fixing this (any suggestions?) but I think it will be nice for me and Greg this weekend to have other people available to hold our attention-seeking baby. And also to pay attention to our older child, who actually demands attention at time. How did I end up with children who crave so much attention? It's the total opposite of how I've always been. I don't think we've been depriving them of attention. With James I suspect it may be a sign of his confidence (which he has quite a lot of).
Anyway, no blogging for the weekend. Hope everyone has a good one.
09 November 2005
various
Sorry for the lack of updates; things have been a little hectic here. James was sick for several days with what was probably just a virus. We were concerned that it might turn into an ear infection but it seems to have cleared up by itself with no trouble. And Evan has the sniffles. To be more precise, he's full of phlegm, the poor thing. But we have introduced him to the Jolly Jumper, which I think he may enjoy even more than eating -- and that's saying a lot.
I had a nice weekend; a friend of mine from high school visited, and being able to hang out with her all weekend (ie. having freedom from my children) may have spoiled me. ... Actually. I'm a firm believer that any parent needs time away from his or her children to really be able to enjoy them. I'm a much better parent when I have time to myself to preserve my sanity.
Weird weather today -- thunderstorms in November? But my friend Bethany reminded me of the song "November Rain" which has been happily playing in my head all afternoon.
04 November 2005
single parenting
Well, I've done it. I've survived almost three full days without my lovely boyfriend. This is the second time since Evan was born that Greg has had to travel for work, and let me tell you, I knew full-time parenting was hard, but you never really appreciate your partner until he's no longer there.
These couple of times I've done it on my own with my boys has given me a new-found respect for single parents. Being the child of a single parent, I've always known it wasn't easy, but I don't think you can truly understand it until you've been there. And I'm aware that three days doesn't qualify me to fully understand single parenting; but I think it gives me a little more insight. With no one to relieve you or share the duties, the discipline, the decision-making, parenting is hard. And tiring. And lonely. I can't imagine doing this permanently. It's a hard enough job with two. It makes me very grateful to have a wonderful man like Greg in my life, and it makes me incredibly appreciative of my Mom and all she did for my sisters and me growing up.
Three days was long enough for me. We survived it with no major incidents, although not as much sleep as I would have liked. (James wanders into our room many nights to sleep with us; he's been sick this week so his dry, barking cough gave everyone a little trouble sleeping.) Now what I want to know is, when's my vacation?
02 November 2005
things I never thought to worry about
James just came in from playing outside, and as we were taking off his sweatshirt, he exclaimed, "Oh! I forgot about the worms in my pocket!" Sure enough, he reached into the front pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a huge handful of worms. After those went into the garden, he pulled out even more worms. When asked why he put worms in his pocket in the first place, he replied, "Because they would get dropped if I carried them in my hands." Of course. Silly me.
Just add this to the list of things that never occurred to me when making the decision to have children.
