I have found absolutely NO time to post at all lately, so I'm taking a break at work to write down a couple of things that have been floating around my head lately:
1. I turned 40 a couple of weeks ago and I feel completely ambivalent about it. One the one hand, I'm not psyched about getting older. If I'm honest, it turns out that quite a bit of my self image is wrapped up in being (or at least appearing) youngish and hip-ish. I'm straddling a line between not wanting to pigeon-hole myself into some vision of what an older woman/mom/scientist/person is like that may be based on some cliched bullshit, while not wanting to look ridiculously out of touch with my actual age. I've been more aware of needing, for example, an "age-appropriate" wardrobe at least for work. On the other hand, fuck you ageist American culture!
2. How should I parent my 4-year old? Linus has been a challenge lately, especially at bed time. He doesn't want to go to bed, no matter how tired he actually is, and so he has a whole bag full of tricks he tries using to postpone the inevitable; just flat-out refusing to go, refusing to get into the bath, refusing to get out, taking 20 minutes to pick out pjs, wanting one more story, wanting to talk about ____, wanting one more hug, wanting a hug from Daddy, or Mommy, whichever one isn't there at the moment, wanting water, wanting to sleep wherever he isn't at the moment, etc. This bedtime thing is really a microcosm of the whole parenting dilemma for me generally. If I choose an authoritative model (e.g. "Go to bed! Because I said so!"), how to enforce it? Because it does require enforcement, and the inevitable, eventual conclusion is to beat your kids. Seriously. If you say, "Do this!" and your kid says, "NO!", then you say, "Then I'll take away X!" and your kid basically says, "I don't care!", you have no where to go but physical punishment when your authority is challenged like that. We don't go that far, but we do get to yelling, and marshaling him around physically, which always ends up with crying, and general upset-edness on both our parts. Plus, it's ineffectual. Yelling and marshaling and punishing does nothing except set him up to be oppositional, ruins the evening, and doesn't stop it from happening again the next night. And, I don't want to raise a bully who deals with conflict by yelling and getting angry. Unfortunately, it tends to be a default response for me because it's what I was raised with.
Alternatively, all of the "gentle discipline" approaches we've tried have also been less than effective. We have a very regular bed time, with a regular routine. We've tried being very rigid and then also very lax. We let him make choices and go with the flow. We've talked at length with him about the whys and hows and what we need to do to have a peaceful, happy, healthy family. All that is great up to the point where he still doesn't want to go to bed.
I just picked up a new book, actually, that I have a lot of hope for. It's called The Kazdin Method for Parenting the Defiant Child. What appeals to me about it is that it is based on some 30 years of research by this guy Kazdin, who's some developmental psych guy at Yale or Princeton or some other Fancy-Pantsery. He's been researching effective discipline for a long time, so everything he says is backed up by data. This is huge for me because, let's face it, there are shitloads of parenting advice out there, and most of it is based on nothing. Anecdotes, personal opinion, "because that's how I was raised and I turned out ok...", etc. And you guys know I'm all about the data. Yeah, your opinion's great and all, but has it been peer-reviewed? What are the confidence intervals on that prediction? I'm half-kidding, but only half. I know that research shows over and over again that punishment doesn't work. It just doesn't, not if you want to actually change behavior and raise moral and ethical kids. It might get you compliance in the very short-term, might, but that's about it. But, it turns out that all of that gentle-discipline-talky-talk also does very little to change behavior. It might be very important in communicating values to your kids, but in terms of actually changing behavior...nada.
I want to raise kids who think for themselves, do the right thing, have empathy and sympathy, but don't flinch when I walk into the room, will turn to me when they have a problem, but who also GO TO FUCKING BED WHEN IT'S BEDTIME, you know? So, Kazdin's data show that essentially you have to reward the behavior you want, and ignore the behavior you don't. If you do this, you will be able to change how your child behaves. He recommends that if there is a specific behavior that you want to change you can set up a reward chart for a short while and effect the change you want. I have to say that I've always been suspicious of reward charts and the like. We haven't gone that far yet, but I will say that in our day-to-day life I have been consciously ignoring behaviors I don't like, and vociferously rewarding ones I do, and it's true that he pretty quickly stops doing what I'm ignoring. It's not like I haven't regularly praised him for good behavior in the past, but I haven't completely ignored bad behavior, and I'm looking for any chance to praise the behavior I do want. I'm thinking a reward chart for the bedtime process may be in our future.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
More quick facts...
I once waited on Jesse Jackson. Now there's a big guy. You can totally tell he used to play football in his youth. Ate a big ol' plate of bacon and eggs. He had a bit of an entourage with him - lot's of people who would sit for a couple of minutes, then scurry off, then come back for another couple of minutes. Also, very polite.
I've also waited on Buddy Guy, Gene Rayburn (R.I.P.), and (then ambassador) Walter Mondale. So, essentially, all my brushes with the famous involve me serving food and/or beverages to them.
I've also waited on Buddy Guy, Gene Rayburn (R.I.P.), and (then ambassador) Walter Mondale. So, essentially, all my brushes with the famous involve me serving food and/or beverages to them.
Quick fact...
I once sold a cup of coffee to Pat Buchanan. He's not a tall guy. I tend to think people who are as tall as I am are actually shorter than me, so he's probably as tall as I am, but I think he's shorter. And he has beady little eyes. He was polite, though he didn't smile once. He didn't try to kidney punch me or anything, so there's that.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
No more boff, please.
I am tired of barf (or, "boff" as Linus pronounces it). Really, really tired. Linus got some sort of stomach bug, then Orion got it. Luna Bee and I have avoided it thus far, so that's something. A boffing 3-year old is a pathetic thing. Orion can make his way to the bathroom and do his boffing out of sight, but not so much Linus. We are not a queasy people in this house, generally. Linus has had one other bug in his life that caused him to throw up, so we don't deal with it that often. But, boy, when we do...gross.
It's just really sad to hear your son cough, then start to cry in his room after he's been asleep for awhile. You go in and find him on all fours on his bed boffing into his pillow. Like, a lot. He's got barf all on the side of his head because he obviously was asleep when all this started. Once he's done boffing, he sits back on his heels, cries, and starts flapping his hands, he's so upset, thus flinging boff around the room. You pick him up and carry him to the bathroom where you strip both of you down and get into the tub to wash your hair. Yeah. Repeat that every couple of hours and you know what life's been like for me for the last 48 hours or so. Actually, the last couple of times, he's made it into the bowl beside his bed. Small victories, people. We moved him out of his bed onto his gym mats on the floor. After stripping his bed once or twice, I learned to just lay out a bunch of towels on the gym mats and let him sleep there. Easy clean up. Plus, he thinks it's cool.
And Luna...Luna! Though she hasn't been sick, she does spit up all the time. We never had to deal with spitting up with Linus. Oh, sure, when he was teething he drooled like a rabid bat, but never spit up. Luna Bee, on the other hand, is a regular spitter-upper. Doesn't bother her. She'll spit up, smiling the whole time. Nothing like holding your baby when she spits up a big, warm gob onto your neck, which slides down your chest and into your cleavage, like a warm, gooey slug. Not that that happened to me just last night or anything. Gross. Gross!!
So, I'm tired of boff. I would like to call a moratorium on any boffing in our house for awhile, ok?
It's just really sad to hear your son cough, then start to cry in his room after he's been asleep for awhile. You go in and find him on all fours on his bed boffing into his pillow. Like, a lot. He's got barf all on the side of his head because he obviously was asleep when all this started. Once he's done boffing, he sits back on his heels, cries, and starts flapping his hands, he's so upset, thus flinging boff around the room. You pick him up and carry him to the bathroom where you strip both of you down and get into the tub to wash your hair. Yeah. Repeat that every couple of hours and you know what life's been like for me for the last 48 hours or so. Actually, the last couple of times, he's made it into the bowl beside his bed. Small victories, people. We moved him out of his bed onto his gym mats on the floor. After stripping his bed once or twice, I learned to just lay out a bunch of towels on the gym mats and let him sleep there. Easy clean up. Plus, he thinks it's cool.
And Luna...Luna! Though she hasn't been sick, she does spit up all the time. We never had to deal with spitting up with Linus. Oh, sure, when he was teething he drooled like a rabid bat, but never spit up. Luna Bee, on the other hand, is a regular spitter-upper. Doesn't bother her. She'll spit up, smiling the whole time. Nothing like holding your baby when she spits up a big, warm gob onto your neck, which slides down your chest and into your cleavage, like a warm, gooey slug. Not that that happened to me just last night or anything. Gross. Gross!!
So, I'm tired of boff. I would like to call a moratorium on any boffing in our house for awhile, ok?
Friday, March 21, 2008
More clichés about parenting
So, it's a truism that growing up is all about becoming independent from your parents. I expected to have moments in my parenting life where this would be apparent. You know, the classic images of a teary mom putting her kid on the school bus for the first time. Or, packing up your kid's stuff and sending them off to college. Maybe walking them down the aisle in their wedding. All of that may well be true, but it's not just those big moments, is it? No, your kids are essentially moving away from you from the moment they are born. It's a continual, daily process of becoming independent from you.
First, they're literally dependent on you for absolutely everything, then they're born. True, newborns are helpless, but they don't need you for the basic functions anymore. Soon they're able to sit up on their own, grab at what they want, roll over. Before long they're skootching around the floor like turtles, then crawling (maybe only backwards at first, but still), then walking, running, climbing to the top of the ladder.
Every time I take a moment to notice, Linus is a little more independent than before. A little bit more his own person, a little less in need of assistance (it's true of Luna too, but it's more about physical needs for her right now, rather than emotional and intellectual). It's such a bittersweet thing. One the one hand, you want your kids to be independent, self-reliant people, but on the other hand I miss each step that's gone by. I miss him sleeping on my chest, nursing, holding my hand to stay upright, hiding behind my leg during any new social situation, but I want him to have strong legs, not noodle legs. I guess I wasn't expecting a daily process of letting go.
First, they're literally dependent on you for absolutely everything, then they're born. True, newborns are helpless, but they don't need you for the basic functions anymore. Soon they're able to sit up on their own, grab at what they want, roll over. Before long they're skootching around the floor like turtles, then crawling (maybe only backwards at first, but still), then walking, running, climbing to the top of the ladder.
Every time I take a moment to notice, Linus is a little more independent than before. A little bit more his own person, a little less in need of assistance (it's true of Luna too, but it's more about physical needs for her right now, rather than emotional and intellectual). It's such a bittersweet thing. One the one hand, you want your kids to be independent, self-reliant people, but on the other hand I miss each step that's gone by. I miss him sleeping on my chest, nursing, holding my hand to stay upright, hiding behind my leg during any new social situation, but I want him to have strong legs, not noodle legs. I guess I wasn't expecting a daily process of letting go.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
I'm home with the same cold that Luna's had, and Orion has. Linus, who was clearly the vector for it, has manage to not get it. There is no justice! It's definitely one of the challenges of having a 3-year old in daycare. He brings home every bug. You can only have him wash his hands so often before it becomes child abuse. But, I've been wanting to post, so this gives me the opportunity.
We're settling into our new family life. I had so much anxiety before Luna was born about just how much she was going to mess with our good family dynamic. I knew it was inevitable that she would take some of our attention away from Linus. I wondered if this would foster resentment in him, that he would feel slighted. Would he hate her for it? Would a resentment continue to grow as they grew? I didn't have a very good relationship with my own sister, so I've always been ambivalent about sibling relationships. We pretty much hated each other for most of our sub-adult lives. It's taken us years to develop an even passably friendly relationship. We are in no way close. I felt like I was living with an enemy for most of my childhood. I didn't want to introduce a source of aggro like that into Linus' life. Also, I didn't know if I wanted to turn my attention. I loved the cozy little threesome we had established. Even though he was going to be 3 when LB was born, he was still my baby. In my heart of hearts, I just knew I could never love another kid as much as I love him. Oh sure, I'd love another baby, but, shhhhhhh, don't tell anybody, I'd always love him best.
Ok, this is weird. I was just saw over at Tina's site that she wrote about this very subject. She pretty much sums up exactly how I was feeling before having Luna.
Well, to my infinite relief, so far, it's all good. Linus LOVES Luna. He doesn't seem to harbor even a hint of resentment towards her. The first couple of times I had to say, "I can't (whatever) with you right now, Linus, I have to take care of the baby" I cringed a little inside and waited for the Luna backlash. Some sort of wailing, "You ALWAYS have to take care of the baby!" kind of response. But, honestly, I've seen not a trace of that from him. He seems to totally get that LB is a baby, and babies need attention nearly all the time. We have done a fair amount of telling Linus about how when he was a baby, we'd done the same stuff for him. He totally gets it. And he's way into being a Big Brother. If you tell him he's a big boy he'll correct you and say, "I'm not a big boy, I'm a big brother!"
He'll get right up in Luna's face, like right up, faces touching, don't-put-your-nose-in-your-sister's-mouth, kind of close all the time. He'll say, "Hi. Hiiiiiiiiii. Hi-hi-hi-hi-hi-hi-hi, Baby!" over and over again. He's a close-talker with her. It kinda makes me a little crazy, ironically, how much in her face he gets. It would drive me nuts to have him up in my face like that, but Luna seems to dig it. In fact, she LOOOOOVES Linus. She totally lights up when he talks to her. Seems completely happy to have no personal space whatsoever. Is perfectly willing to suck on his nose. When she starts walking, he's going to have a new shadow, I can see it.
I can't tell you what a relief this is. Of course, I don't expect them to be harmonious friends all the time, but it's a great start. When I was pregnant with LB I would have periods of real sadness for Linus and what I feared he was going to lose. But it seems he hasn't lost anything. I've come to see that any attention Linus loses to Luna is actually ok. More than that, it's a good thing. I see that it's a good thing to not be under the spotlight of our full attention all the time. It gives him space to be on his own, to have to figure some things out for himself. I don't know how much of this is just luck of timing for us. Maybe we just had Luna at the right time, just when Linus was 3 and becoming more independent anyway. I don't know, but it's worked out just right.
I still call him "Baby", though. I can't seem to help it. It gets confusing at times. I'll ask Orion if "the baby's had a snack", or whatever, referring to Linus while holding an actual baby in my arms. I'll be calling him "Baby" when he's 30, I can tell. Both of them. Sorry.
We're settling into our new family life. I had so much anxiety before Luna was born about just how much she was going to mess with our good family dynamic. I knew it was inevitable that she would take some of our attention away from Linus. I wondered if this would foster resentment in him, that he would feel slighted. Would he hate her for it? Would a resentment continue to grow as they grew? I didn't have a very good relationship with my own sister, so I've always been ambivalent about sibling relationships. We pretty much hated each other for most of our sub-adult lives. It's taken us years to develop an even passably friendly relationship. We are in no way close. I felt like I was living with an enemy for most of my childhood. I didn't want to introduce a source of aggro like that into Linus' life. Also, I didn't know if I wanted to turn my attention. I loved the cozy little threesome we had established. Even though he was going to be 3 when LB was born, he was still my baby. In my heart of hearts, I just knew I could never love another kid as much as I love him. Oh sure, I'd love another baby, but, shhhhhhh, don't tell anybody, I'd always love him best.
Ok, this is weird. I was just saw over at Tina's site that she wrote about this very subject. She pretty much sums up exactly how I was feeling before having Luna.
Well, to my infinite relief, so far, it's all good. Linus LOVES Luna. He doesn't seem to harbor even a hint of resentment towards her. The first couple of times I had to say, "I can't (whatever) with you right now, Linus, I have to take care of the baby" I cringed a little inside and waited for the Luna backlash. Some sort of wailing, "You ALWAYS have to take care of the baby!" kind of response. But, honestly, I've seen not a trace of that from him. He seems to totally get that LB is a baby, and babies need attention nearly all the time. We have done a fair amount of telling Linus about how when he was a baby, we'd done the same stuff for him. He totally gets it. And he's way into being a Big Brother. If you tell him he's a big boy he'll correct you and say, "I'm not a big boy, I'm a big brother!"
He'll get right up in Luna's face, like right up, faces touching, don't-put-your-nose-in-your-sister's-mouth, kind of close all the time. He'll say, "Hi. Hiiiiiiiiii. Hi-hi-hi-hi-hi-hi-hi, Baby!" over and over again. He's a close-talker with her. It kinda makes me a little crazy, ironically, how much in her face he gets. It would drive me nuts to have him up in my face like that, but Luna seems to dig it. In fact, she LOOOOOVES Linus. She totally lights up when he talks to her. Seems completely happy to have no personal space whatsoever. Is perfectly willing to suck on his nose. When she starts walking, he's going to have a new shadow, I can see it.
I can't tell you what a relief this is. Of course, I don't expect them to be harmonious friends all the time, but it's a great start. When I was pregnant with LB I would have periods of real sadness for Linus and what I feared he was going to lose. But it seems he hasn't lost anything. I've come to see that any attention Linus loses to Luna is actually ok. More than that, it's a good thing. I see that it's a good thing to not be under the spotlight of our full attention all the time. It gives him space to be on his own, to have to figure some things out for himself. I don't know how much of this is just luck of timing for us. Maybe we just had Luna at the right time, just when Linus was 3 and becoming more independent anyway. I don't know, but it's worked out just right.
I still call him "Baby", though. I can't seem to help it. It gets confusing at times. I'll ask Orion if "the baby's had a snack", or whatever, referring to Linus while holding an actual baby in my arms. I'll be calling him "Baby" when he's 30, I can tell. Both of them. Sorry.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Slight gender confusion
This is a conversation I just had with Linus (We've set up his gym mats so he can jump off of them onto his beanbag. He's only wearing underpants.)
Me: Wow! You sure can jump far.
Linus: Yeah. If you take everything off your body you can jump far.
Me: So, if you're naked you can jump far?
Linus: Yeah! If you only have your undies you can jump far!
Me: Ok!
Linus: I'm like Spiderman!
Me: Yeah!
Linus: Naked Spiderman!
Me: Naked Spiderman!
Linus: Naked Woman Spiderman!
Me: Naked Woman Spiderman?
Linus: Hahahahaha!
a few minutes later...
Linus: You can't jump as far as me.
Me: Maybe not.
Linus: When you were a little boy, and I was a big boy, you couldn't jump this far. jumps Waaaaaaa!
Me: Wow! You sure can jump far.
Linus: Yeah. If you take everything off your body you can jump far.
Me: So, if you're naked you can jump far?
Linus: Yeah! If you only have your undies you can jump far!
Me: Ok!
Linus: I'm like Spiderman!
Me: Yeah!
Linus: Naked Spiderman!
Me: Naked Spiderman!
Linus: Naked Woman Spiderman!
Me: Naked Woman Spiderman?
Linus: Hahahahaha!
a few minutes later...
Linus: You can't jump as far as me.
Me: Maybe not.
Linus: When you were a little boy, and I was a big boy, you couldn't jump this far. jumps Waaaaaaa!
Friday, March 14, 2008
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Sad baby
I'm home with a sick Luna Bee today. She's got a bad cold and is most pathetic. She seems to want to nurse about every hour so I didn't want to leave it to Orion to deal with her by himself. It's for the best as I am sick as well and she got me up hourly last night. I thought I'd post something and since Tina put this meme out there, I'm biting:
1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open it at page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence/ phrase.
4. Blog the next four sentences/ phrases together with these instructions.
5. Don't you dare dig your shelves for that very special or intellectual book.
6. Pass it forward to six friends
The book is "What's going on in there? How the brain and mind develop in the first five years of life." Page 123 is the beginning of Chapter 5: The Importance of Touch:
That's because the sense of touch is one of a baby's most advanced abilities at birth. Little Phoebe, who just tuned one week old today, can't see very well - the whole room's a big blur - but she loves to be held. She can feel her mother's arm, cradling her comfortably under her head, her hand holding her bottom, and that wonderfully warm breast next to her cheek. The sense of touch is by no means fully developed at birth. Babies have a long way to go until they can discriminate all different types of tactile sensations and accurately pinpoint the location of a touch on their body.
Yeah, not that illuminating. The later sections on toddler brain development are more interesting.
The only friend I have that blogs is Tina, so anyone else is welcome to take it up (just let me know). Anyway, here's a picture from a healthier, happier day:
1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open it at page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence/ phrase.
4. Blog the next four sentences/ phrases together with these instructions.
5. Don't you dare dig your shelves for that very special or intellectual book.
6. Pass it forward to six friends
The book is "What's going on in there? How the brain and mind develop in the first five years of life." Page 123 is the beginning of Chapter 5: The Importance of Touch:
That's because the sense of touch is one of a baby's most advanced abilities at birth. Little Phoebe, who just tuned one week old today, can't see very well - the whole room's a big blur - but she loves to be held. She can feel her mother's arm, cradling her comfortably under her head, her hand holding her bottom, and that wonderfully warm breast next to her cheek. The sense of touch is by no means fully developed at birth. Babies have a long way to go until they can discriminate all different types of tactile sensations and accurately pinpoint the location of a touch on their body.
Yeah, not that illuminating. The later sections on toddler brain development are more interesting.
The only friend I have that blogs is Tina, so anyone else is welcome to take it up (just let me know). Anyway, here's a picture from a healthier, happier day:
Sunday, February 24, 2008
The Oscars are a mystery
This is what watching the Oscars with Linus is like:
Linus: What's this?
Me: The Oscars, honey.
Linus: The what?
Me: The Oscars. The Academy Awards. It's an award show for movies.
Linus: For scary movies?!
Me: For all movies.
Linus: Who's that guy?
Me: That's John Stewart, he's the host.
Linus: The what?
Me: The host. Ummm. He's in charge of the show.
Linus: What's that?
Me: That's a clip from a movie. Uh, they're showing part of one of the movies.
Linus: A clip?
Me: Yeah.
Linus: What's that?
Me: That's a clip from another movie.
Linus: What's that?
Me: That's a cl - Honey, they're going to be showing clips from a lot of movies, so you don't need to ask every time, ok?
Linus: Is that a clip?
Me: Yes.
Linus: Who's that?
Me: That's the host.
Linus: Who's that?
Me: That's one of the people presenting an award.
Linus: Who's that?
Me: That's Javier Bardem, he just won an award.
Linus: Why are the people clapping?
Me: They're clapping for the guy who just won.
Linus: Who? Who just won?
Me: That guy, Javier Bardem.
Linus: Did he win a prize?
Me: Yes. An Oscar.
Linus: An Oscar?! Is that a good prize? Is it like a treat?
Me: Yes, I think he's happy he won this prize.
Linus: Who's that?
Me: Another presenter.
Linus: What's he talking about?
Me: About who might win the next prize.
Linus: What's that?
Me: More movie clips.
Linus: Is it a scary movie? Does it have bad parts I can't watch?
Me: No, not these clips. They're short.
Linus: Who's that?
Me: That's the host, honey, remember?
(I bleep bloop through some boring crap)
Linus: Why are you skipping?
Me: Because it's not interesting. Just a bunch more clips.
Linus: Is it bad stuff for me not to see??
Me: No, just not very interesting.
Linus: What are they doing?
Me: They're singing one of the songs that might get an award.
Linus: (Lifts up his hands mimicking the people on stage) Why are they doing that?
Me: I don't know. It's part of the performance.
Linus: Who's that?
Me: That's another presenter.
Linus: Is that another clip?
Me: Yep.
Linus: Is that another clip?
Me: Yes, please don't ask every time, ok?
Linus: Who's that guy?
Me: I think it's time for your bath.
Linus: What's this?
Me: The Oscars, honey.
Linus: The what?
Me: The Oscars. The Academy Awards. It's an award show for movies.
Linus: For scary movies?!
Me: For all movies.
Linus: Who's that guy?
Me: That's John Stewart, he's the host.
Linus: The what?
Me: The host. Ummm. He's in charge of the show.
Linus: What's that?
Me: That's a clip from a movie. Uh, they're showing part of one of the movies.
Linus: A clip?
Me: Yeah.
Linus: What's that?
Me: That's a clip from another movie.
Linus: What's that?
Me: That's a cl - Honey, they're going to be showing clips from a lot of movies, so you don't need to ask every time, ok?
Linus: Is that a clip?
Me: Yes.
Linus: Who's that?
Me: That's the host.
Linus: Who's that?
Me: That's one of the people presenting an award.
Linus: Who's that?
Me: That's Javier Bardem, he just won an award.
Linus: Why are the people clapping?
Me: They're clapping for the guy who just won.
Linus: Who? Who just won?
Me: That guy, Javier Bardem.
Linus: Did he win a prize?
Me: Yes. An Oscar.
Linus: An Oscar?! Is that a good prize? Is it like a treat?
Me: Yes, I think he's happy he won this prize.
Linus: Who's that?
Me: Another presenter.
Linus: What's he talking about?
Me: About who might win the next prize.
Linus: What's that?
Me: More movie clips.
Linus: Is it a scary movie? Does it have bad parts I can't watch?
Me: No, not these clips. They're short.
Linus: Who's that?
Me: That's the host, honey, remember?
(I bleep bloop through some boring crap)
Linus: Why are you skipping?
Me: Because it's not interesting. Just a bunch more clips.
Linus: Is it bad stuff for me not to see??
Me: No, just not very interesting.
Linus: What are they doing?
Me: They're singing one of the songs that might get an award.
Linus: (Lifts up his hands mimicking the people on stage) Why are they doing that?
Me: I don't know. It's part of the performance.
Linus: Who's that?
Me: That's another presenter.
Linus: Is that another clip?
Me: Yep.
Linus: Is that another clip?
Me: Yes, please don't ask every time, ok?
Linus: Who's that guy?
Me: I think it's time for your bath.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Here's the thing: baby edition
The baby is on a nap strike. I don't know what the deal is, but it's making Orion and I a little nutty. She fights, and fights, and fights sleep, and when she does finally conk out for a nap, she sleeps for half an hour at the most. That is NOT enough nap time for a little baby. What this means is that there is about a 15 minute sweet spot in the evening when she's willing to go out, but not so tired that she's sleepy-crazy yet. We have to pay close attention and make our sleep-inducing moves right then. You know; nursing, rocking, bouncing, whatever it takes. Because, of course, babies don't just roll over and fall asleep when they're tired. Oh no, they need to be coaxed. If we're too early we're just wasting our time. She'll close her eyes for a minute, fake you out, and then *pop*! Eyes open, big grin, like, "Sucker!" But if we miss that window of opportunity then we're fucked. She gets sleepy-crazy and cries and hoots and fusses and moans. All with her eyes closed. This goes on for a good 45 minutes to an hour before she either passes out, or escalates to hollering. I'll be glad when this stage passes.
Her brain must be growing like crazy at the moment and she doesn't want to miss anything, so she refuses to sleep, even though she's so obviously tired and looks punch drunk. I also think she's doing some teething. There's nothing poking up yet, but they can feel it long before any teeth show. She's all drooly, and she chews on her fingers like they're Chick-O-Stix. She's been a noisy, slurpy, fist-sucker from the beginning, but finger chewing is a recent addition.
Fortunately, we hit the window tonight. She's passed out on Daddy's shoulder and will be out for the night (except for one or two feedings). I'm keeping my fingers crossed that she'll get 3 nice long naps tomorrow. Is it really so much to ask?
Her brain must be growing like crazy at the moment and she doesn't want to miss anything, so she refuses to sleep, even though she's so obviously tired and looks punch drunk. I also think she's doing some teething. There's nothing poking up yet, but they can feel it long before any teeth show. She's all drooly, and she chews on her fingers like they're Chick-O-Stix. She's been a noisy, slurpy, fist-sucker from the beginning, but finger chewing is a recent addition.
Fortunately, we hit the window tonight. She's passed out on Daddy's shoulder and will be out for the night (except for one or two feedings). I'm keeping my fingers crossed that she'll get 3 nice long naps tomorrow. Is it really so much to ask?
Here's the thing; political edition
I support Barack Obama. Not because he's a rock star and not because I've succumbed to the "cult of personality". I'm both an intellectual and emotional person. I tend to champion intellect first, while Tina does the same for emotion. We are diametrically balanced in that way: I think there's maybe too much emotion and not enough intellect in the process at large, while Tina thinks the opposite.* We're both right.
I support Barack Obama because he inspires me. He's seems to inspire a lot of people to give in to the better aspects of their political natures. That is a powerful thing. He is intellectual and emotional, and a little hip and cool. I expect policy wonky-ness from my senators and representatives. I have scrutinized proposed legislation, and written emails, and asked where my congress-folk stand and intend to vote, and demanded changes in language, etc. But I want my president to lead, and I like the direction Obama seems intent on taking us. I want a president who can inspire (I know, again) the country to move in a new direction. That's what I want.
*any gross mischaracterizations of Tina's positions are wholly my own.
I support Barack Obama because he inspires me. He's seems to inspire a lot of people to give in to the better aspects of their political natures. That is a powerful thing. He is intellectual and emotional, and a little hip and cool. I expect policy wonky-ness from my senators and representatives. I have scrutinized proposed legislation, and written emails, and asked where my congress-folk stand and intend to vote, and demanded changes in language, etc. But I want my president to lead, and I like the direction Obama seems intent on taking us. I want a president who can inspire (I know, again) the country to move in a new direction. That's what I want.
*any gross mischaracterizations of Tina's positions are wholly my own.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Hat only!
I just put Linus to bed wearing nothing but a hat. It's a sort of of a knit cap, dark blue. He's been going through a thing where first he didn't want to wear his pj top, then he didn't want to wear his pj bottoms, only underpants. That lasted about a week. Now he doesn't want to wear anything. I think it's because he has a fleece blanket and he likes the way it feels on his skin, but I'm only guessing. He kicks the sheet and comforter down to the foot of the bed and burritos himself in the blanket. Can't blame him, really.
The hat is new tonight. When I last checked, he had it pulled down over his eyes. I think it may be some sort of monster protection. He's very concerned with monsters lately. What monsters are around, where they are, their emotional state (happy, sad, etc.). He's full of the most mysterious stuff of late. I don't understand half of what he's saying most days. I mean, I understand the words, just not the meaning. If he chooses to explain at length, I can generally come around to some understanding, but sometimes not. For example:
Linus: "I need a card pick."
Me: "What's a 'card pick'"?
Linus: "It's a sort of a small fish, or like a stone, for my mouth."
Me: "..."
You tell me.
The hat is new tonight. When I last checked, he had it pulled down over his eyes. I think it may be some sort of monster protection. He's very concerned with monsters lately. What monsters are around, where they are, their emotional state (happy, sad, etc.). He's full of the most mysterious stuff of late. I don't understand half of what he's saying most days. I mean, I understand the words, just not the meaning. If he chooses to explain at length, I can generally come around to some understanding, but sometimes not. For example:
Linus: "I need a card pick."
Me: "What's a 'card pick'"?
Linus: "It's a sort of a small fish, or like a stone, for my mouth."
Me: "..."
You tell me.
Saturday, February 02, 2008
I'm not that kind of girl.
I forgot about how babies will try and make out with you. Have you ever experienced this? You're holding a baby and you move in to plant a kiss on one of those fat, irresistible cheeks when at the last moment, just as you're about to make contact, the baby turns their head, mouth open, and you end up in a weird make-out session with a 3-month old. This happens to me at least twice a day with Luna. Big, drooly, open-mouthers when all I want is a cheek smooch.
A new tack
I know I've been home for 13 weeks with Luna now and yet I haven't managed to post more than once. What gives? I don't have a good answer except that writing takes more time for me than the snippets I get at the moment, I guess. I'd had this grand plan to post almost daily with these long posts all about labor, birth, new baby, parenting, etc. Well, so much for my plans. How about if I just post a little about small things with more regularity and save the big posts for another time? Ok? Good.
So, quick Luna Bee update: She talks all the time! She's the chattiest baby I've ever met. She looks at you intently, waits until she has your full attention, and then starts to talk, "Hoo. Hool. Hoowool. Hoom. Hoowow. Waloo hool. Mwah!" She really tries to imitate the way we move our mouths when we talk to her. She's got something to say and no way to really say it yet. Linus babbled like other babies at some point, sure, but it's like Luna's trying so hard to make Big People words right out of the box. I'll see if I can get some video of it up at some point.
So, quick Luna Bee update: She talks all the time! She's the chattiest baby I've ever met. She looks at you intently, waits until she has your full attention, and then starts to talk, "Hoo. Hool. Hoowool. Hoom. Hoowow. Waloo hool. Mwah!" She really tries to imitate the way we move our mouths when we talk to her. She's got something to say and no way to really say it yet. Linus babbled like other babies at some point, sure, but it's like Luna's trying so hard to make Big People words right out of the box. I'll see if I can get some video of it up at some point.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Luna Bee...
...is one week old!
We are both healthy and well. I will post soon about her birth and more, but right now I'm just coming out of that first week fog of nursing and sleeping, sleeping and nursing.
We are both healthy and well. I will post soon about her birth and more, but right now I'm just coming out of that first week fog of nursing and sleeping, sleeping and nursing.
Monday, October 08, 2007
Pink is the new Spider-Man
Linus' favorite color is pink. It was orange, but some time a couple of months ago, pink moved up. He's pink crazy. Anything pink and he's all over it. He's 3, so he's completely free of any bullshit associations having to do with gender and color, unlike my mother. When I was pregnant with Linus, she and I would go baby clothes shopping and she would be horrified when I would want to buy a little floral shirt or something. I hated that even for tiny babies "boy" clothes were covered with sports imagery, or trains, or bears. All in shades of blue or maybe plaid, of course.
So, for my sister's wedding a couple of weeks ago, Linus decided he wanted to wear a pink shirt. Fine with me. However, we gender-stereotype toddlers in this culture way harder than even grown men and women. I could go into the men's clothing section of any department store and buy my husband a pink button down, or maybe a polo shirt, no problem. But you can not buy a pink shirt for a 3-year old boy. Period. Turn around and face the girl's section and you see nothing but pink. A friggin' sea of pink. But at least little girls can go into the boy's section if they want and buy a plaid shirt or whatever without raising too many eyebrows. Not the other way around, however. The clothes in the girl's section aren't just pink. They also have all kinds of other signifiers of girly-ness; bows, puffy sleeves, lace, "girl"-specific imagery, etc. It's really insane. This doesn't come from the kids, people. This is all grown up baggage and it's gross, frankly. Sure, there are innate differences between little boys and girls, but this clothing crap is all cultural.
I looked in 4 different stores for a dressy pink shirt. The closest I could find was a white button down. Pathetic. And, I knew that wouldn't be sufficient for Linus. I finally got sick of finding nothing, so I went into the girls section and picked out 4 pink shirts of various styles. He was psyched to see them, but one was the clear favorite: a pink thermal with slightly puffy shoulders and a big, sparkly crown printed on the front. He calls it his "princess shirt". Awesome. I'll see if I can get a picture of him in it up later.
So, for my sister's wedding a couple of weeks ago, Linus decided he wanted to wear a pink shirt. Fine with me. However, we gender-stereotype toddlers in this culture way harder than even grown men and women. I could go into the men's clothing section of any department store and buy my husband a pink button down, or maybe a polo shirt, no problem. But you can not buy a pink shirt for a 3-year old boy. Period. Turn around and face the girl's section and you see nothing but pink. A friggin' sea of pink. But at least little girls can go into the boy's section if they want and buy a plaid shirt or whatever without raising too many eyebrows. Not the other way around, however. The clothes in the girl's section aren't just pink. They also have all kinds of other signifiers of girly-ness; bows, puffy sleeves, lace, "girl"-specific imagery, etc. It's really insane. This doesn't come from the kids, people. This is all grown up baggage and it's gross, frankly. Sure, there are innate differences between little boys and girls, but this clothing crap is all cultural.
I looked in 4 different stores for a dressy pink shirt. The closest I could find was a white button down. Pathetic. And, I knew that wouldn't be sufficient for Linus. I finally got sick of finding nothing, so I went into the girls section and picked out 4 pink shirts of various styles. He was psyched to see them, but one was the clear favorite: a pink thermal with slightly puffy shoulders and a big, sparkly crown printed on the front. He calls it his "princess shirt". Awesome. I'll see if I can get a picture of him in it up later.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
My son is pregnant
Linus informed me that he too has a baby in his belly that kicks him. It also tells him to be quiet because it's trying to sleep. So now when we feel my belly for kicks, we feel his belly too. Even Steven.
I sitting here on our back patio watching the chickens stroll back and forth, patrolling the grass for bugs. They must have decimated bug populations in our backyard by now with their thorough, daily searches. They still seem to find plenty to snack on, however. Whenever I get up to go inside for something, they all run over to see if I'm preparing to pass out treats ("treats" in this case meaning stale bread or table scraps). After a couple of seconds, when it becomes obvious I got nothin', they look at me with chicken reproach and resume their promenade. It's quite relaxing, really, watching them. That is until one of them hops up into one of my garden beds, then it's Chicken Hosing Time! They've scratched up my basil more than once this summer and it pisses me off! They also like to eat the kale, when they get the chance. Good thing for them we actually get something in return, or it would be Pot Pie Time!
It's almost dusk now, so they're slowing making their way back to the hen house. We've been getting 4 eggs a day for about a month now; 2 large, pale brown ones and 2 small, dark brown ones. We give about a dozen a week to the neighbors, in case the occasional early morning chicken dust-up disturbs them. They claim not to be bothered, but it sure as hell bothers me! It's was worse when we first introduced the 2 new ones in with the 2 older Barred Rocks a couple of months back, but now they've settled down. The new ones got their asses kicked, or pecked, really, all over the place, but I guess the pecking order has been established.
My belly is huge and I still have +-14 weeks to go. I feel impatient already, like I'm in the last month. I feel fine, no real complaints beyond bigness, and impatience. I have a fairly grueling travel schedule ahead of me this month, and I'm hoping I don't fall asleep during any meetings and snore or drool in front of my colleagues. I leave for a week long meeting in San Jose on Sunday, then I'm back for a week, then to Kansas City for a week to teach in a workshop (the boys are coming with me on that one to visit everyone in Lawrence), then I leave from KC and fly to a week-long brainstorming meeting in Pune, India. I know!
Once I get through all this travel, September is multiple trips to Seattle for my sister's wedding and wedding-related activities, as well as my Gram's 90th birthday. If I can make it through September, October should be fairly low key. Then, a baby! I think it's a sign you're doing too much when you look forward to the arrival of a new baby for a little down time.
I sitting here on our back patio watching the chickens stroll back and forth, patrolling the grass for bugs. They must have decimated bug populations in our backyard by now with their thorough, daily searches. They still seem to find plenty to snack on, however. Whenever I get up to go inside for something, they all run over to see if I'm preparing to pass out treats ("treats" in this case meaning stale bread or table scraps). After a couple of seconds, when it becomes obvious I got nothin', they look at me with chicken reproach and resume their promenade. It's quite relaxing, really, watching them. That is until one of them hops up into one of my garden beds, then it's Chicken Hosing Time! They've scratched up my basil more than once this summer and it pisses me off! They also like to eat the kale, when they get the chance. Good thing for them we actually get something in return, or it would be Pot Pie Time!
It's almost dusk now, so they're slowing making their way back to the hen house. We've been getting 4 eggs a day for about a month now; 2 large, pale brown ones and 2 small, dark brown ones. We give about a dozen a week to the neighbors, in case the occasional early morning chicken dust-up disturbs them. They claim not to be bothered, but it sure as hell bothers me! It's was worse when we first introduced the 2 new ones in with the 2 older Barred Rocks a couple of months back, but now they've settled down. The new ones got their asses kicked, or pecked, really, all over the place, but I guess the pecking order has been established.
My belly is huge and I still have +-14 weeks to go. I feel impatient already, like I'm in the last month. I feel fine, no real complaints beyond bigness, and impatience. I have a fairly grueling travel schedule ahead of me this month, and I'm hoping I don't fall asleep during any meetings and snore or drool in front of my colleagues. I leave for a week long meeting in San Jose on Sunday, then I'm back for a week, then to Kansas City for a week to teach in a workshop (the boys are coming with me on that one to visit everyone in Lawrence), then I leave from KC and fly to a week-long brainstorming meeting in Pune, India. I know!
Once I get through all this travel, September is multiple trips to Seattle for my sister's wedding and wedding-related activities, as well as my Gram's 90th birthday. If I can make it through September, October should be fairly low key. Then, a baby! I think it's a sign you're doing too much when you look forward to the arrival of a new baby for a little down time.
Monday, July 16, 2007
More catching up...
I know! I've barely posted anything in the last bunch of months. Tina asked for an update so here it is:
Ok, first of all, we've changed Skeletor's fetal name to Cindy Pilates. Yes, apparently we're having a girl. What?! A girl?! That's what I said. It was a bad angle on the ultrasound, and the tech didn't sound too confident, so I won't be too surprised if Cindy comes out an Igor, but for now we're embracing the girl thing. Well, at least I'm trying to embrace it. I think I made myself pretty clear that I was hoping for a boy - it just seems so much more straight forward to just throw another boy into the mix - so I was a bit...what? Upset? Disappointed? No, not exactly. Just sort of thrown for a loop. I have a hard time adjusting when I've spent a lot of time imaging just how I think things will be. That's why I never really had a clear picture in my head of how I thought labor would go last time. I knew I'd never be able to picture it, so I didn't want to be all invested in one image and not be able to go with whatever the flow turned out to be. Does that make sense? Anyway, I'm slowly coming around. I'm still completely freaked out by the idea of a tween- or teenage girl, but I'm starting to like the idea of a whole different vibe with this one. Not that another boy would've been boring or routine or something, but you get my meaning. So, a girl.
The name Cindy Pilates comes from my friend Jas, who insisted I was having a girl before we ever knew. Not because he thinks he has any special insight or anything, but he and his wife are expecting a girl next month and he wanted me in the same boat. So, not so much a prediction as a magic spell he cast over and over. The "Pilates" part is because he's convinced that both his wife and I got pregnant shortly after taking up pilates because we'd just taken up pilates Pilates as the magic fertility rite. Of course, I was trying to get pregnant, but they were not. In fact, according to him they were taking multiple prophylatic measures, but pilates triumphed in the end. Don't doubt the power of pilates!
A girl! Whaaaat? I know!
Linus wants to name her Batopat. Or, alternatively, Patobat. Maybe it's spelled Bat o' Pat, I'm not sure. I'll have to check with him.
p.s. Big Bad John, what's your email address?
Ok, first of all, we've changed Skeletor's fetal name to Cindy Pilates. Yes, apparently we're having a girl. What?! A girl?! That's what I said. It was a bad angle on the ultrasound, and the tech didn't sound too confident, so I won't be too surprised if Cindy comes out an Igor, but for now we're embracing the girl thing. Well, at least I'm trying to embrace it. I think I made myself pretty clear that I was hoping for a boy - it just seems so much more straight forward to just throw another boy into the mix - so I was a bit...what? Upset? Disappointed? No, not exactly. Just sort of thrown for a loop. I have a hard time adjusting when I've spent a lot of time imaging just how I think things will be. That's why I never really had a clear picture in my head of how I thought labor would go last time. I knew I'd never be able to picture it, so I didn't want to be all invested in one image and not be able to go with whatever the flow turned out to be. Does that make sense? Anyway, I'm slowly coming around. I'm still completely freaked out by the idea of a tween- or teenage girl, but I'm starting to like the idea of a whole different vibe with this one. Not that another boy would've been boring or routine or something, but you get my meaning. So, a girl.
The name Cindy Pilates comes from my friend Jas, who insisted I was having a girl before we ever knew. Not because he thinks he has any special insight or anything, but he and his wife are expecting a girl next month and he wanted me in the same boat. So, not so much a prediction as a magic spell he cast over and over. The "Pilates" part is because he's convinced that both his wife and I got pregnant shortly after taking up pilates because we'd just taken up pilates Pilates as the magic fertility rite. Of course, I was trying to get pregnant, but they were not. In fact, according to him they were taking multiple prophylatic measures, but pilates triumphed in the end. Don't doubt the power of pilates!
A girl! Whaaaat? I know!
Linus wants to name her Batopat. Or, alternatively, Patobat. Maybe it's spelled Bat o' Pat, I'm not sure. I'll have to check with him.
p.s. Big Bad John, what's your email address?
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