One advantage of being the mother of a two-year-old is that you can watch Sesame Street and be like, "SEE! IT'S STILL AWESOME! I'M WATCHING THIS WITH MY KID! DON'T JUDGE ME!"
I remember when K. posted something about old school Sesame Street and how awesome it was. While she does have a point, I have to say that some of the new Sesame Street is pretty damn awesome.
Case in point: The Shoe Fairy!
How often do you see Neil Patrick Harris wearing fairy wings and singing about shoes? It's just been one of those little things that makes me want to keep watching the show, even though I'm using the TV as a momentary getaway so I can get chores done.
I've also found myself sitting enraptured watching this:
And even though it's buried in Elmo's World (WHICH IS CRACK FOR TODDLERS), Mr. Noodle is pretty awesome:
Bill Irwin has some great silent physical comedy. And the Mr. Noodle segment is totally a haven for Broadway stars like Michael Jeeter and Kirstin Chenoweth.
YES. I SAID IT. I USE MY TV AS A BABYSITTER SOMETIMES. You try making dinner with a tiny howler monkey attempting to pants you or climb up to see the stove and add sugar as a spice. Or take apart the coffee maker. Or pants you. Try it. Then come back to me and tell me how I shouldn't use TV as a babysitter.
But all of this discussion has a point -- sort of. Bear with me.
I remember discussing this with K. about how some children's media (TV, music, whatever), seems more aimed to the parents than the kids. I don't mind a little nod and wink to the parents (see the Mad Men skit on Sesame Street), but sometimes I wonder if some of the children's media is being marketed more to the adults than the kids.
This doesn't mean that children's programming is watered-down drivel that makes you want to drive an ice pick into your brain. Some of my favorite children's books have some rather deep themes. Neil Gaiman has some great children's books (The Day I Traded My Dad for Two Goldfish is a SCREAM). Wallace and Gromit are a lot of fun for adults and children.
But I think that there's a line -- when the majority of the children's stuff has content going over the kid's head and is aimed at the adult in the room, I think that's a sign that you're not making children's programming. And I feel like I see a lot of that, which bugs me. Because really, who are you marketing to? If you're not including my kid in the conversation, my kid is going to be bored and I will notice that you're not catering to her.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Monthly report: 28th month.
Dear Benevolent Dictator --
Sorry about the lack of a report last month. I have no excuse as of late, except that I tend to procrastinate and forget about doing the report. It's a bad habit of mine. Frankly, I'm kind of proud of the fact that I do these reports and they're longer than, "YOU'RE CUTE. STOP SAYING WHY ALL THE DAMN TIME."
Most recently, you've learned how to apologize. Whenever I'm angry at you, you'll say something like, "I sorry Momma. I'm trying to be polite." However, you will apologize, then go back to doing whatever it was that pissed me off in the first place. In short, you now know how to apologize like a politician. It's both hysterical and irritating. You're learning manners, but not the motivation behind them.
As of late, you've really been enjoying coloring and painting. And I'm thankful Crayola makes everything washable. Otherwise our kitchen table (BRAND NEW) would not just be covered in fork gouges (which you did), but also a new paint job.
I think the biggest milestone for me this past couple of months is that you actually jumped on your own. In September, you jumped for the first time. It wasn't big -- maybe a fraction of an inch -- but it took my breath away. Since then, you've been jumping like a little kangaroo, marveling at the fact that you can control your body and take flight for a moment.
Add to this the fact that you run everywhere because you can, and you've got one frazzled mother chasing you everywhere. You've also figured out ways to get around childproofing and my attempts to keep things out of your reach. Perhaps it was a bad idea for me to show you how to push a chair over to the breakfast bar so you could see the computer.
That's how I lost my wedding ring for one day. It didn't help that I spent a day flat on my back thanks to a stomach bug, while your dad cared for you (other than throwing up from overeating, you fared better that day than I did), so I didn't realize I didn't have my wedding ring on for a couple of days. Then when I realized it was missing, I searched all the same familiar places. No ring. I dug through the trash -- which was filled with dirty diapers, coffee grounds and pukey paper towels. No ring.
Then, when I was laying in bed, I flashed back to one day when you were looking with great interest under the stove. I didn't think of anything at the time. But this time it triggered something and I looked under the stove. There, shiny and sparkly was my ring. The most I can fathom is that you were by the laptop, grabbed the ring, it dropped and rolled under the stove.
So I found a new hiding place. Which I figure will last for a few months until your incredible acrobatics force me to find a different resting spot. I think the whole point of this is that it was a perfect illustration of you -- not that you get into trouble, but that you like to investigate and play with things you don't normally have.
I love that curiosity kiddo, but it does keep me on my feet. Which is probably good for me -- resting on my laurels has never been a good idea.
Love,
Momma
Sorry about the lack of a report last month. I have no excuse as of late, except that I tend to procrastinate and forget about doing the report. It's a bad habit of mine. Frankly, I'm kind of proud of the fact that I do these reports and they're longer than, "YOU'RE CUTE. STOP SAYING WHY ALL THE DAMN TIME."
Most recently, you've learned how to apologize. Whenever I'm angry at you, you'll say something like, "I sorry Momma. I'm trying to be polite." However, you will apologize, then go back to doing whatever it was that pissed me off in the first place. In short, you now know how to apologize like a politician. It's both hysterical and irritating. You're learning manners, but not the motivation behind them.
As of late, you've really been enjoying coloring and painting. And I'm thankful Crayola makes everything washable. Otherwise our kitchen table (BRAND NEW) would not just be covered in fork gouges (which you did), but also a new paint job.
I think the biggest milestone for me this past couple of months is that you actually jumped on your own. In September, you jumped for the first time. It wasn't big -- maybe a fraction of an inch -- but it took my breath away. Since then, you've been jumping like a little kangaroo, marveling at the fact that you can control your body and take flight for a moment.
Add to this the fact that you run everywhere because you can, and you've got one frazzled mother chasing you everywhere. You've also figured out ways to get around childproofing and my attempts to keep things out of your reach. Perhaps it was a bad idea for me to show you how to push a chair over to the breakfast bar so you could see the computer.
That's how I lost my wedding ring for one day. It didn't help that I spent a day flat on my back thanks to a stomach bug, while your dad cared for you (other than throwing up from overeating, you fared better that day than I did), so I didn't realize I didn't have my wedding ring on for a couple of days. Then when I realized it was missing, I searched all the same familiar places. No ring. I dug through the trash -- which was filled with dirty diapers, coffee grounds and pukey paper towels. No ring.
Then, when I was laying in bed, I flashed back to one day when you were looking with great interest under the stove. I didn't think of anything at the time. But this time it triggered something and I looked under the stove. There, shiny and sparkly was my ring. The most I can fathom is that you were by the laptop, grabbed the ring, it dropped and rolled under the stove.
So I found a new hiding place. Which I figure will last for a few months until your incredible acrobatics force me to find a different resting spot. I think the whole point of this is that it was a perfect illustration of you -- not that you get into trouble, but that you like to investigate and play with things you don't normally have.
I love that curiosity kiddo, but it does keep me on my feet. Which is probably good for me -- resting on my laurels has never been a good idea.
Love,
Momma
Sunday, October 04, 2009
SPECIAL EFFECTS BUKKAKE!
While we were watching Project Runway last Thursday, Jeff and I were subjected to five minutes of the new movie 2012:
Which raised a few questions:
1. How the hell does a limo outrun an earthquake?
2. Why is a plane flying so low it could be hit by falling buildings and collapsing freeway bridges?
3. Why hasn't John Cusack fired his agent yet?
And yet, the bad movie connoisseur in me wants to desperately see this movie. Drunk. It's like Independence Day and The Day After Tomorrow had wild sex in a one night stand, got knocked up and birthed this.
It's like the director just put all his money into the special effects department. "YOU WANT MONUMENTS DESTROYED? WE'LL GET THEM ALL! NOT JUST THE EIFFEL TOWER, BUT WE'LL HIT ASIA AND SOUTH AMERICA TOO!" I swear, this is what CGI artists in Hollywood dream about, when you ask them what their dream job is.
Which raised a few questions:
1. How the hell does a limo outrun an earthquake?
2. Why is a plane flying so low it could be hit by falling buildings and collapsing freeway bridges?
3. Why hasn't John Cusack fired his agent yet?
And yet, the bad movie connoisseur in me wants to desperately see this movie. Drunk. It's like Independence Day and The Day After Tomorrow had wild sex in a one night stand, got knocked up and birthed this.
It's like the director just put all his money into the special effects department. "YOU WANT MONUMENTS DESTROYED? WE'LL GET THEM ALL! NOT JUST THE EIFFEL TOWER, BUT WE'LL HIT ASIA AND SOUTH AMERICA TOO!" I swear, this is what CGI artists in Hollywood dream about, when you ask them what their dream job is.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Five words: Motherhood
And now the final word in the five word meme: Motherhood.
Motherhood's a hard word to write about because at times it feels like such a charged word. Maybe it's that I spend too much time reading parenting blogs, but I often see articles on people passing judgment one way or another on what mothers do, how they do it, what they should be doing instead and how your child will turn into an axe murderer if you don't do things the right way. And then there's the whole, "BACK IN MY DAY" rants which make no sense.
In other words, it seems like everyone and their fucking mother have something to say about parenting and motherhood, when really, we all need to calm the fuck down.
But here I go with my thoughts on the subject. I'm a huge fan of the "almost perfect" school of parenting. In other words, as long as there's no blood, concussions, injuries, fatalities and the house is still standing at the end of the day, it's pretty much a WIN. It's not how each minute goes -- it's the whole picture and the overall result. One bad day isn't going to destroy a child.
I sometimes feel like what I can say about parenting is too much, but at the same time quite contradictory in nature. Probably part of living so close to the subject -- or in it, as the case may be. But overall, the one theme that keeps coming up for me is love. Love in all its forms -- stormy, angry, quiet, sad, happy, belly-laughing inducing, etc. It hurts like hell sometimes from the joy and the pain that occurs.
I know some call it a job, but really, I am starting to think that it's about establishing relationships and building foundations with other people from the ground up. It's incredibly hard work at times, but it's also satisfying and fun. It's not something I'd recommend for everyone.
I can't say when I realized I wanted this and was ready for it. I just was. And I don't regret it one bit.
OK Erich. It's now your turn. My five words to you are:
Pants
Community
Music
Spirituality
Travel
Motherhood's a hard word to write about because at times it feels like such a charged word. Maybe it's that I spend too much time reading parenting blogs, but I often see articles on people passing judgment one way or another on what mothers do, how they do it, what they should be doing instead and how your child will turn into an axe murderer if you don't do things the right way. And then there's the whole, "BACK IN MY DAY" rants which make no sense.
In other words, it seems like everyone and their fucking mother have something to say about parenting and motherhood, when really, we all need to calm the fuck down.
But here I go with my thoughts on the subject. I'm a huge fan of the "almost perfect" school of parenting. In other words, as long as there's no blood, concussions, injuries, fatalities and the house is still standing at the end of the day, it's pretty much a WIN. It's not how each minute goes -- it's the whole picture and the overall result. One bad day isn't going to destroy a child.
I sometimes feel like what I can say about parenting is too much, but at the same time quite contradictory in nature. Probably part of living so close to the subject -- or in it, as the case may be. But overall, the one theme that keeps coming up for me is love. Love in all its forms -- stormy, angry, quiet, sad, happy, belly-laughing inducing, etc. It hurts like hell sometimes from the joy and the pain that occurs.
I know some call it a job, but really, I am starting to think that it's about establishing relationships and building foundations with other people from the ground up. It's incredibly hard work at times, but it's also satisfying and fun. It's not something I'd recommend for everyone.
I can't say when I realized I wanted this and was ready for it. I just was. And I don't regret it one bit.
OK Erich. It's now your turn. My five words to you are:
Pants
Community
Music
Spirituality
Travel
Monday, September 28, 2009
Five words: Gaming
For Erich -- Dude, I'm sorry this is taking so long. But at the end, I've got five words I want to see on your LJ.
Anyway, gaming is the fourth word that my friend gave me. Which is a fun word. I associate it with meeting up with friends and hanging out for a few hours, having VERY inappropriate conversations and goofing off for a few hours.
I also have to credit gaming for introducing me to Jeff. Back in the day, there was a live-action role playing thing called Madison By Night when it was founded in 1867 (KIDDING!). The previous year, when I was doing theater work, I met someone who introduced me to White Wolf and the Werewolf game, which really interested me. I didn't play, but a seed was planted in my head.
Jeff and I had spent the summer talking to each other on a BBS (yes, back in the day of dial-up modems. Remember, this was 1867) and he mentioned he played the Werewolf game. I said I was interested and he told me to talk to his friend at the Student Organization meet-and-greet thing they hold every fall. I didn't meet Jeff then, but I got hooked up with Madison By Night, a live-action role-playing game focused on vampires. Afterwards, Jeff invited me to a party at his friends' house (they were the organizers behind Madison by Night) and well, the rest is history.
I'm not one for LARPing (as it's called), because of the following reasons: 1) I'm a terrible actor and very one-dimensional. 2) I don't scheme very well. 3) I hate dressing up. But when Jeff introduced me to tabletop gaming, I found a very fun hobby.
Like a lot of women (not all, but I'm willing to bet the majority), I got introduced to gaming thanks to a boyfriends or a spouse. And it stuck with me because it was a good outlet for meeting friends -- I found geeky, sweet and smart friends who are great fun to be around. These friends helped show me the ropes to gaming and were also tolerant of several newbie mistakes (DO NOT TOUCH ANOTHER PERSON'S DICE. DO NOT TELL THEM HOW TO PLAY THEIR CHARACTER.).
Without a doubt, gaming's become a big part of my life. I still play very similar characters -- I like doing broad comedy, hate scheming and enjoy beating things to death (when in doubt, violence). I am not a patient person, so the characters I play are rather simple. But really, it's what I like and my friends don't mind, so it's all good.
I expect it to be part of Benevolent Dictator's future too. She already knows how to say, "Half-orc," and "bugbear." What's amusing is that one kid in my neighborhood is already interested in gaming -- she's seen the books and some of my characters. Who knows? I might end up introducing the next generation to gaming. I'LL BE AN ENABLER!
Anyway, gaming is the fourth word that my friend gave me. Which is a fun word. I associate it with meeting up with friends and hanging out for a few hours, having VERY inappropriate conversations and goofing off for a few hours.
I also have to credit gaming for introducing me to Jeff. Back in the day, there was a live-action role playing thing called Madison By Night when it was founded in 1867 (KIDDING!). The previous year, when I was doing theater work, I met someone who introduced me to White Wolf and the Werewolf game, which really interested me. I didn't play, but a seed was planted in my head.
Jeff and I had spent the summer talking to each other on a BBS (yes, back in the day of dial-up modems. Remember, this was 1867) and he mentioned he played the Werewolf game. I said I was interested and he told me to talk to his friend at the Student Organization meet-and-greet thing they hold every fall. I didn't meet Jeff then, but I got hooked up with Madison By Night, a live-action role-playing game focused on vampires. Afterwards, Jeff invited me to a party at his friends' house (they were the organizers behind Madison by Night) and well, the rest is history.
I'm not one for LARPing (as it's called), because of the following reasons: 1) I'm a terrible actor and very one-dimensional. 2) I don't scheme very well. 3) I hate dressing up. But when Jeff introduced me to tabletop gaming, I found a very fun hobby.
Like a lot of women (not all, but I'm willing to bet the majority), I got introduced to gaming thanks to a boyfriends or a spouse. And it stuck with me because it was a good outlet for meeting friends -- I found geeky, sweet and smart friends who are great fun to be around. These friends helped show me the ropes to gaming and were also tolerant of several newbie mistakes (DO NOT TOUCH ANOTHER PERSON'S DICE. DO NOT TELL THEM HOW TO PLAY THEIR CHARACTER.).
Without a doubt, gaming's become a big part of my life. I still play very similar characters -- I like doing broad comedy, hate scheming and enjoy beating things to death (when in doubt, violence). I am not a patient person, so the characters I play are rather simple. But really, it's what I like and my friends don't mind, so it's all good.
I expect it to be part of Benevolent Dictator's future too. She already knows how to say, "Half-orc," and "bugbear." What's amusing is that one kid in my neighborhood is already interested in gaming -- she's seen the books and some of my characters. Who knows? I might end up introducing the next generation to gaming. I'LL BE AN ENABLER!
Sunday, September 20, 2009
I've got enough to feel guilty about as a mother...
BUT I'LL BE DAMNED IF YOU PRY MY GLASS OF WINE FROM MY HAND.
Sorry. That was my reaction after reading an article about women -- particularly mothers -- drinking:
I talked this over with some friends on Twitter, and seriously the entire article smacks of sexism to me. Now, I will not deny that some people have alcoholism, but but that's honestly a personal thing. It crosses across sexes, races, socioeconomic and every other line.
But what bothers me is that there's an implication that a woman -- ESPECIALLY A MOTHER -- can not do what a man does responsibly. That is they can't have a couple of drinks and still do their parenting job.
WHERE'S THE DAD IN ALL THIS? What about fathers who drink? Where is their responsibility in this? In today's age, it's not just the mother who does parenting -- the dad also parenting duties. Why is it that somehow it's worse for the mother to drink?
Perhaps that's my biggest pet peeve -- that there is still this implication that women are doing the primary parenting job. What about the fathers that are staying at home? Don't they have the same responsibility to keep their drinking under control? By putting the focus only on mothers, it denies the fact that yes, men can be participatory parents and have the same responsibilities and burdens as mothers.
The article also ignores the stresses that parents have -- this is a job I signed up for willingly and most of the time I adore it, but you can't deny that it is a tough job. Take those stresses and add them on top of the other everyday job/work bullshit you have to deal with. It's tough. I'm a stay-at-home-mom and I admire working parents for keeping their shit together.
Again, there are parents with drinking problems. Just like there's childless people with drinking problems. But a drinking problem is defined as when it starts to interfere with your ability to function in your daily routine. Having a glass of wine after the kids go down for bed, or with friends is NOT A DRINKING PROBLEM.
Also, when I joke about drinking -- IT'S A FREAKIN' JOKE. The pearl-clutching over parenting is annoying as hell. Is parenting so sacred that we can't crack a couple jokes about it? Complain about how our bosses (aka our children) drive us nuts? When we become parents, we don't lose ourselves.
And if that person likes a glass of beer or wine after the kids go to bed, there's nothing wrong with that. Hell, I am toasting you right now.
Sorry. That was my reaction after reading an article about women -- particularly mothers -- drinking:
A horrific car crash in July on New York's Taconic Parkway, in which Diane Schuler -- who police say was drunk and had smoked marijuana -- killed four children, herself and three adults while driving the wrong way, has intensified the debate over whether child-rearing and drinking are simply too lethal a cocktail for some women.For the record, I'm drinking a glass of wine right now as I type this.
I talked this over with some friends on Twitter, and seriously the entire article smacks of sexism to me. Now, I will not deny that some people have alcoholism, but but that's honestly a personal thing. It crosses across sexes, races, socioeconomic and every other line.
But what bothers me is that there's an implication that a woman -- ESPECIALLY A MOTHER -- can not do what a man does responsibly. That is they can't have a couple of drinks and still do their parenting job.
WHERE'S THE DAD IN ALL THIS? What about fathers who drink? Where is their responsibility in this? In today's age, it's not just the mother who does parenting -- the dad also parenting duties. Why is it that somehow it's worse for the mother to drink?
Perhaps that's my biggest pet peeve -- that there is still this implication that women are doing the primary parenting job. What about the fathers that are staying at home? Don't they have the same responsibility to keep their drinking under control? By putting the focus only on mothers, it denies the fact that yes, men can be participatory parents and have the same responsibilities and burdens as mothers.
The article also ignores the stresses that parents have -- this is a job I signed up for willingly and most of the time I adore it, but you can't deny that it is a tough job. Take those stresses and add them on top of the other everyday job/work bullshit you have to deal with. It's tough. I'm a stay-at-home-mom and I admire working parents for keeping their shit together.
Again, there are parents with drinking problems. Just like there's childless people with drinking problems. But a drinking problem is defined as when it starts to interfere with your ability to function in your daily routine. Having a glass of wine after the kids go down for bed, or with friends is NOT A DRINKING PROBLEM.
Also, when I joke about drinking -- IT'S A FREAKIN' JOKE. The pearl-clutching over parenting is annoying as hell. Is parenting so sacred that we can't crack a couple jokes about it? Complain about how our bosses (aka our children) drive us nuts? When we become parents, we don't lose ourselves.
And if that person likes a glass of beer or wine after the kids go to bed, there's nothing wrong with that. Hell, I am toasting you right now.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Five words will be back...
BUT I HAVE TO INTERRUPT TO SQUEE ABOUT THE U2 SHOW I SAW!
My friend Em, her friend Lindsay and I ventured down to see U2 open their American leg of the tour at Soldier Field. I will admit to being skeptical. We were up in the nosebleed seats and when I heard U2 claim it was going to be an "intimate" show, I was like, "Yeah. Right. Intimate among 60,000 people. Next thing you'll tell me is that the next album will be a return to Gaelic hip hop."
But they proved me wrong. It seems ostentatious, but the claw, with its 360 degree wraparound screen did make it possible for us to see the band. I think my jaw hit the floor when I saw how good our view was. I think the phrase I used was, "I think I just came," a few times. The other times I used, "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!"
It wasn't just a huge video screen. It did a great job convey different images and would also separate into stretch out, allowing for some beautiful abstract visuals for the songs. City of Blinding Lights was amazing as the Claw shot up a ray of light into the sky, piercing the clouds. I liked how with Unknown Caller, they took a wordy chorus and bridge and made it almost into a video game, where the words scrolled by, and every time Bono sang, the words lit up.
The visuals were also spot on for the songs. Seeing images of the recent election in Iran and the fall out for Sunday Bloody Sunday made the song's message feel more topical. The only thing that felt kind of weird to me was the Aung San Suu Kyi masks some fans wore and a group of people came onstage with them on. I'm not good with performance art, so I wasn't wild about it at all. It was weird seeing fans swilling beer and holding up those masks.
I can't say anything more about the concert, because really, it was just that much fun. It was amazing. It was fun. I danced my ass off. The remix of I'll Go Crazy (If I Don't Go Crazy Tonight) was a discotheque blast. I squeed. I met fans in mom jeans who first saw U2 at Roseland in 1987 for the Amnesty International tour. If they do a second leg, I'm there. Hopefully I can get on general admission and on the floor. But if I don't, the nosebleeds aren't terrible either.
Bono is right -- All you need is love. And a spaceship. This tour proved that.
My friend Em, her friend Lindsay and I ventured down to see U2 open their American leg of the tour at Soldier Field. I will admit to being skeptical. We were up in the nosebleed seats and when I heard U2 claim it was going to be an "intimate" show, I was like, "Yeah. Right. Intimate among 60,000 people. Next thing you'll tell me is that the next album will be a return to Gaelic hip hop."
But they proved me wrong. It seems ostentatious, but the claw, with its 360 degree wraparound screen did make it possible for us to see the band. I think my jaw hit the floor when I saw how good our view was. I think the phrase I used was, "I think I just came," a few times. The other times I used, "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!"
It wasn't just a huge video screen. It did a great job convey different images and would also separate into stretch out, allowing for some beautiful abstract visuals for the songs. City of Blinding Lights was amazing as the Claw shot up a ray of light into the sky, piercing the clouds. I liked how with Unknown Caller, they took a wordy chorus and bridge and made it almost into a video game, where the words scrolled by, and every time Bono sang, the words lit up.
The visuals were also spot on for the songs. Seeing images of the recent election in Iran and the fall out for Sunday Bloody Sunday made the song's message feel more topical. The only thing that felt kind of weird to me was the Aung San Suu Kyi masks some fans wore and a group of people came onstage with them on. I'm not good with performance art, so I wasn't wild about it at all. It was weird seeing fans swilling beer and holding up those masks.
I can't say anything more about the concert, because really, it was just that much fun. It was amazing. It was fun. I danced my ass off. The remix of I'll Go Crazy (If I Don't Go Crazy Tonight) was a discotheque blast. I squeed. I met fans in mom jeans who first saw U2 at Roseland in 1987 for the Amnesty International tour. If they do a second leg, I'm there. Hopefully I can get on general admission and on the floor. But if I don't, the nosebleeds aren't terrible either.
Bono is right -- All you need is love. And a spaceship. This tour proved that.
Thursday, September 03, 2009
Pass the booze
"Today was a difficult day. Tomorrow will be better." -- Lilly's Purple Plastic Purse
Or at least that's what I've been telling myself today. Today was terrible. I think we went so far past FAIL that I kept hoping we'd circle around to WIN, but it didn't work out like that today.
It was typical toddler stuff -- tantrums about putting on pants, pages torn out of a book, the dreaded "WHY?" all day and crying and screaming -- mixed with me snapping at her while she gave me a blank stare.
"Oh this? You didn't want me to do THIS?" the stare seems to say. "I thought you didn't mean that one specific instance."
I expect to become very familiar with that stare as she gets older. "OH THIS CAR? When you said, 'Take the car and you're grounded for life!' I didn't know you meant this car. I thought you meant THAT car."
And you wonder why parents drink.
There's just some days when parenting is difficult. There's the urge to scream and shake sense into this tiny sociopath who doesn't understand basic manners. But you can't. Because you're the adult. You're supposed to lead by example and being an example doesn't mean you can go, "KNOCK IT THE FUCK OFF! WE DO NOT RIP BOOKS YOU LITTLE SHIT!"
Thankfully Jeff was around today (a head cold has been sweeping through our house, so none of us are doing great and he's been home sick), to bail me out. Even then it was difficult for us, because it's obvious that she's at the age where she's testing us. On occasion Jeff would give me a look as if to say, "THE HELL?" when Benevolent Dictator was acting up.
"This is my day," I told him. "Now you know why I have a glass of wine at night."
These days aren't frequent. They happen every once in awhile and they're tough. And I have to keep reminding myself that it's one day. Mr. Slinger, the teacher in Lilly's Purple Plastic Purse, was right when he said, "Today was a difficult day. Tomorrow will be better."
I know it'll be better. But for now, I'm very glad Jeff's reading to our girl and I have the rest of the evening to watch this:
Yes. This is parenting a toddler.
Or at least that's what I've been telling myself today. Today was terrible. I think we went so far past FAIL that I kept hoping we'd circle around to WIN, but it didn't work out like that today.
It was typical toddler stuff -- tantrums about putting on pants, pages torn out of a book, the dreaded "WHY?" all day and crying and screaming -- mixed with me snapping at her while she gave me a blank stare.
"Oh this? You didn't want me to do THIS?" the stare seems to say. "I thought you didn't mean that one specific instance."
I expect to become very familiar with that stare as she gets older. "OH THIS CAR? When you said, 'Take the car and you're grounded for life!' I didn't know you meant this car. I thought you meant THAT car."
And you wonder why parents drink.
There's just some days when parenting is difficult. There's the urge to scream and shake sense into this tiny sociopath who doesn't understand basic manners. But you can't. Because you're the adult. You're supposed to lead by example and being an example doesn't mean you can go, "KNOCK IT THE FUCK OFF! WE DO NOT RIP BOOKS YOU LITTLE SHIT!"
Thankfully Jeff was around today (a head cold has been sweeping through our house, so none of us are doing great and he's been home sick), to bail me out. Even then it was difficult for us, because it's obvious that she's at the age where she's testing us. On occasion Jeff would give me a look as if to say, "THE HELL?" when Benevolent Dictator was acting up.
"This is my day," I told him. "Now you know why I have a glass of wine at night."
These days aren't frequent. They happen every once in awhile and they're tough. And I have to keep reminding myself that it's one day. Mr. Slinger, the teacher in Lilly's Purple Plastic Purse, was right when he said, "Today was a difficult day. Tomorrow will be better."
I know it'll be better. But for now, I'm very glad Jeff's reading to our girl and I have the rest of the evening to watch this:
Yes. This is parenting a toddler.
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
Five words: Pop culture
Continuing on a thread my friend gave me, here's the third word (or in this case -- WORDS. So this whole exercise should be six words, not five, but whatever. He's my dear friend and I'm willing to forgive him. THIS TIME.) he asked me to expound on: Pop Culture.
Ever since I was a kid, I've been interested on pop culture. So much so that I wanted to major in cultural studies (aka pop culture) for graduate school. It sounds pretentious, but pop culture, which can be considered trashy and terrible, is probably going to be considered art in the future. Well, not all of it. If I ever hear that Flavor of Love and its evil spawn end up in the Smithsonian, I may need to burn down a museum.
I love pop culture and art because they both reflect a place in time culturally. Not just the good, but the bad and even the ugly parts of us. I can't really sum it up more than that. That's simply the best thing I can say.
Now if you don't mind, I'm off to watch a Patrick Swayze retrospective, followed up by some Real Housewives insanity.
Ever since I was a kid, I've been interested on pop culture. So much so that I wanted to major in cultural studies (aka pop culture) for graduate school. It sounds pretentious, but pop culture, which can be considered trashy and terrible, is probably going to be considered art in the future. Well, not all of it. If I ever hear that Flavor of Love and its evil spawn end up in the Smithsonian, I may need to burn down a museum.
I love pop culture and art because they both reflect a place in time culturally. Not just the good, but the bad and even the ugly parts of us. I can't really sum it up more than that. That's simply the best thing I can say.
Now if you don't mind, I'm off to watch a Patrick Swayze retrospective, followed up by some Real Housewives insanity.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Monthly report: 26th month -- MINE! MINE! MINE!
Dear Benevolent Dictator --
Last Friday, you turned 26 months old. And really, I can't tell a huge difference between this and last month developmentally. Except for the fact that you've discovered the word, "Mine."
"This is mine," I keep hearing you say. Even if you've just glanced at an object, you'll rip it away from another little kid and proclaim, "THIS. IS. MINE." You're starting to sound like the seagulls in Finding Nemo.
You've gotten more acrobatic. Right now it appears that your favorite way to see the world is upside-down. Many times you come to us with a wicked gleam and then ask to hold our hands. Then you climb up our legs and try and flip over. It's quite an impressive sight from someone who's less than three feet tall.
This month, you spent a lot of time with Grandma, because your parents headed off to Gen Con for some "alone" time (You'll understand the significance of that when you're older). What I thought was funny is that I warned your Grandma all about the antics that you pull with me and when we talked, she said you were a perfect angel. Which doesn't surprise me really -- you do have one hell of a public face. Either that or she was a hell of a lot happier dealing with your every whim than I can be at times.
During the time we were gone, it was also apparent that your palate skews towards what I would call comfort food. And hot dogs. But your big food obsession is tomatoes -- so much so that you're eating green ones off of the vine. So you and I are pretty similar in food tastes. I just have to remember to lessen the amount of food on your plate. While you have a varied palate, you're eating less.
One time you scared the shit out of me when you refused to eat breakfast. Apparently your toys were a hell of a lot of a more fun than breakfast. While I know on a rational level that you'd be fine and would eat when your hungry, I can't explain why the hell I started following you around outside with a container of yogurt and a spoon.
Thanks to that, I've learned one important thing -- You'll eat when you're hungry. And if you're bored with what I serve, you won't eat. Apparently you're not a big breakfast person like your parents.
I think that the biggest thing I learned from that is to follow your lead sometimes. If you don't want to go outside and play, that's alright. If you just want to take your time and put on your shoes, that's cool. And even though it can be aggravating while I tally up to-do lists in my head while you debate between the different sandals you have, when you look at me and say, "Xie, xie mumma," it makes my heart melt.
Seriously kiddo, those are the moments that make parenting worth it.
Love,
Momma
Last Friday, you turned 26 months old. And really, I can't tell a huge difference between this and last month developmentally. Except for the fact that you've discovered the word, "Mine."
"This is mine," I keep hearing you say. Even if you've just glanced at an object, you'll rip it away from another little kid and proclaim, "THIS. IS. MINE." You're starting to sound like the seagulls in Finding Nemo.
You've gotten more acrobatic. Right now it appears that your favorite way to see the world is upside-down. Many times you come to us with a wicked gleam and then ask to hold our hands. Then you climb up our legs and try and flip over. It's quite an impressive sight from someone who's less than three feet tall.
This month, you spent a lot of time with Grandma, because your parents headed off to Gen Con for some "alone" time (You'll understand the significance of that when you're older). What I thought was funny is that I warned your Grandma all about the antics that you pull with me and when we talked, she said you were a perfect angel. Which doesn't surprise me really -- you do have one hell of a public face. Either that or she was a hell of a lot happier dealing with your every whim than I can be at times.
During the time we were gone, it was also apparent that your palate skews towards what I would call comfort food. And hot dogs. But your big food obsession is tomatoes -- so much so that you're eating green ones off of the vine. So you and I are pretty similar in food tastes. I just have to remember to lessen the amount of food on your plate. While you have a varied palate, you're eating less.
One time you scared the shit out of me when you refused to eat breakfast. Apparently your toys were a hell of a lot of a more fun than breakfast. While I know on a rational level that you'd be fine and would eat when your hungry, I can't explain why the hell I started following you around outside with a container of yogurt and a spoon.
Thanks to that, I've learned one important thing -- You'll eat when you're hungry. And if you're bored with what I serve, you won't eat. Apparently you're not a big breakfast person like your parents.
I think that the biggest thing I learned from that is to follow your lead sometimes. If you don't want to go outside and play, that's alright. If you just want to take your time and put on your shoes, that's cool. And even though it can be aggravating while I tally up to-do lists in my head while you debate between the different sandals you have, when you look at me and say, "Xie, xie mumma," it makes my heart melt.
Seriously kiddo, those are the moments that make parenting worth it.
Love,
Momma
Friday, August 21, 2009
Five words: Journalism
Continuing from the last post, the second word I received was journalism. First off, Journalism is a big place there buddy, like Latin. Points if you get my reference.
I have said before that in my past life, before motherhood kidnapped me, I was in journalism. It was a low-paying, long-hours job that sometimes seemed insane, but I couldn't give up because I love to write and really, it was fun at times to spin out stories with a set assignment.
That being said, I recently have had people ask me if I plan to return to freelancing or journalism any time soon. I said right now I'm on a break. Why? Because right now journalism and news media seem to be at a major crossroads and the result right now is that I'm not going to get paid.
As of July, 13,000 journalists lost their jobs. That means that there's 13,000 freelance writers that I have to compete with now. Not to mention the fact that many major blogs like the Huffington Post, expect writers to contribute for free. Which is bullshit. If they're making millions, they should be able to kick some cash down to the contributors. Pageviews don't pay the bills ya'll.
I had a little freelancing thing, but since advertising seems to have dried up in this economy, I don't see that coming anytime soon. Not to mention what I said earlier about a hell of a lot more competition. Dammit.
In addition, newspapers seem to be waking up to the fact that there's this thing call the Internet and *gasp* social media, which is messing with their news cycle. Instead of relying on major talking heads for their information, people are getting it from different areas. I think it says something when people were relying on Twitter to get news about the Iran election, whereas the major news outlets seemed to be covering Twitter covering Iran.
I think that most people are showing dissatisfaction for the current news format and the major media corporations. It says something when most people say they trust the Daily Show more than CNN. Perhaps its because we're all jaded and have a skewed view of the world. Or perhaps its that we as a people aren't happy with the way the 24-hour news cycle works, which is to drum up and make news to fill space.
All in all, right now is a tough time to be a journalist as a profession. There wasn't much money in the business in the first place, and that's drying up more. But before budding journalists start to stick their head in the oven, I have to add that this is also an interesting time.
It's uncertain, of course, much like the Tower card in a Tarot deck. I will admit I'm not sure how it will shake out in the end, but I see the major media fragmenting in a way and hopefully the rise of some more independent media.
I hope that the end result is also journalists getting paid. If journalists don't get enough money to pay the bills and cover their expenses, they will have to take other jobs or leave the industry. And as a result, there's not enough experienced journalists or enough resources to ferret out the truth in investigative journalism. And that's a damn shame, because without that, journalism is nothing but a joke.
I have said before that in my past life, before motherhood kidnapped me, I was in journalism. It was a low-paying, long-hours job that sometimes seemed insane, but I couldn't give up because I love to write and really, it was fun at times to spin out stories with a set assignment.
That being said, I recently have had people ask me if I plan to return to freelancing or journalism any time soon. I said right now I'm on a break. Why? Because right now journalism and news media seem to be at a major crossroads and the result right now is that I'm not going to get paid.
As of July, 13,000 journalists lost their jobs. That means that there's 13,000 freelance writers that I have to compete with now. Not to mention the fact that many major blogs like the Huffington Post, expect writers to contribute for free. Which is bullshit. If they're making millions, they should be able to kick some cash down to the contributors. Pageviews don't pay the bills ya'll.
I had a little freelancing thing, but since advertising seems to have dried up in this economy, I don't see that coming anytime soon. Not to mention what I said earlier about a hell of a lot more competition. Dammit.
In addition, newspapers seem to be waking up to the fact that there's this thing call the Internet and *gasp* social media, which is messing with their news cycle. Instead of relying on major talking heads for their information, people are getting it from different areas. I think it says something when people were relying on Twitter to get news about the Iran election, whereas the major news outlets seemed to be covering Twitter covering Iran.
I think that most people are showing dissatisfaction for the current news format and the major media corporations. It says something when most people say they trust the Daily Show more than CNN. Perhaps its because we're all jaded and have a skewed view of the world. Or perhaps its that we as a people aren't happy with the way the 24-hour news cycle works, which is to drum up and make news to fill space.
All in all, right now is a tough time to be a journalist as a profession. There wasn't much money in the business in the first place, and that's drying up more. But before budding journalists start to stick their head in the oven, I have to add that this is also an interesting time.
It's uncertain, of course, much like the Tower card in a Tarot deck. I will admit I'm not sure how it will shake out in the end, but I see the major media fragmenting in a way and hopefully the rise of some more independent media.
I hope that the end result is also journalists getting paid. If journalists don't get enough money to pay the bills and cover their expenses, they will have to take other jobs or leave the industry. And as a result, there's not enough experienced journalists or enough resources to ferret out the truth in investigative journalism. And that's a damn shame, because without that, journalism is nothing but a joke.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Five words: Snark
A friend of mine did a five words meme. The challenge is to expound on five words chosen by a friend that either remind them of you or are chosen are random. The words he chose, I could expound for days on, so I'm just going to do each one as a separate entry.
If anyone else is interested in this, let me know in the comments.
I'll admit. I talk a hell of a lot of trash. I like snark. I like a certain amount of bite to my words. I have a very self-deprecating sense of humor that runs dark. I believe in the Mel Brooks quote about comedy: "Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you fall into an open sewer and die."
However, as I've gotten older and perhaps wiser (or less willing to deal with bullshit), I've learned that people are misusing the word "snark." I think that people use it now as a shield to be an utter asshole to others and say the meanest, cruelest thing to win humor points from people (witness Internet forums). Which is a form of bullying, in my opinion.
Maybe the problem is that all of us tend to judge and speak from a position where we don't always know the whole picture. But it's so easy to make a snap judgment. And when you have people egging you on to make the craziest statement possible, it's easy to jump the line from "snark" to "complete and utter dickwad."
I guess that what I really hope for is that while we all want to be the funniest or most liked person in a room, we'd remember that sometimes using snark isn't the best way to go about doing it.
If anyone else is interested in this, let me know in the comments.
| 1. | snark | 670 up, 50 down   |
| noun Combination of "snide" and "remark". Sarcastic comment(s). Also snarky (adj.) and snarkily (adv.) His commentary was rife with snark. "Your boundless ineptitude is astounding," she snarkily declared. | ||
I'll admit. I talk a hell of a lot of trash. I like snark. I like a certain amount of bite to my words. I have a very self-deprecating sense of humor that runs dark. I believe in the Mel Brooks quote about comedy: "Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you fall into an open sewer and die."
However, as I've gotten older and perhaps wiser (or less willing to deal with bullshit), I've learned that people are misusing the word "snark." I think that people use it now as a shield to be an utter asshole to others and say the meanest, cruelest thing to win humor points from people (witness Internet forums). Which is a form of bullying, in my opinion.
Maybe the problem is that all of us tend to judge and speak from a position where we don't always know the whole picture. But it's so easy to make a snap judgment. And when you have people egging you on to make the craziest statement possible, it's easy to jump the line from "snark" to "complete and utter dickwad."
I guess that what I really hope for is that while we all want to be the funniest or most liked person in a room, we'd remember that sometimes using snark isn't the best way to go about doing it.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Monthy report; 25th month Insert witty title here.
Dear Benevolent Dictator:
Five days ago, you turned 25 months old. We are firmly enmeshed in the "Terrible two" phase, but really, I see it as preparation for when you're a teenager. I may not understand why you're so pissed off sometimes now (because of the language problems), but I get the feeling, when you're a teenager I'm still not going to get why you're pissed off sometimes.
But that's where I'll also feel sorry for your father. Right now he gets a bitchy wife when she's PMSing. Can you imagine it when we're both doing that? I am now realizing that there's a reason why men tinker in the garage, den or basement -- it's to flee their hormone-addled wives and children. Or to avoid shoes being thrown at their heads by angry teenage girls.
Where was I? Right. Twenty-five months. Even though you are prone to fits right now, I have to say that I'm also having a lot of fun with you right now. We have conversations about things -- mostly dogs, cats, trucks and the terrible ants that swarmed up your legs when you stood on an anthill. You like to play pretend and cook for me and take "sips" from my coffee cup. You also enjoyed wearing my shiny new heels and prancing around the house in my bras. I hope you never have tits as big as mine. Despite when men say, bigger is not necessarily better.
I always knew that you were aware of your emotions, but this month, you really emphasized it. You were sitting on your training potty and I made some smart remark. You started to wail (as toddlers do) and went to the door. I asked what was wrong and you said something along the lines of "(BD) angry."
"Were you hurt by what I said?" I asked.
"Yeah."
Wow. That one blows my mind. You understand your emotions and how they work. You're barely two years old. Of course, I apologized and the tears dried and everything was quickly forgotten. Which is a bonus -- you don't hold grudges like I do (you never have). Once the tears are done, everything is bright and sunny again.
Despite this emotional maturity, we're still working on some basic social etiquette. Like sharing. You don't share well at all. Whenever you want something, you saunter up to the person, grab it and get into a tug of war. Complete with screeching. For some reason it reminds me of a sale in the fashion district of New York City. More often then not, the other kid will drop it with a facial expression equivalent to: "DUDE. OK! I DIDN'T WANT IT THAT BAD ANYWAY!"
You're also getting frightfully savvy with technological devices. You've successfully erased several apps from my iPod (yes, you play with it. I don't mind and apparently Hiya Beautiful doesn't mind being molested by sticky fingers as well) and enjoyed playing with a neighbor's Nintendo DS. You've also successfully killed one of your father's characters on the Conan MMO. I suspect it will be soon before you're fragging n00bs on Team Fortress.
If so, I will be proud to sponsor you for professional gaming. After all, college isn't cheap.
Love,
Momma
Five days ago, you turned 25 months old. We are firmly enmeshed in the "Terrible two" phase, but really, I see it as preparation for when you're a teenager. I may not understand why you're so pissed off sometimes now (because of the language problems), but I get the feeling, when you're a teenager I'm still not going to get why you're pissed off sometimes.
But that's where I'll also feel sorry for your father. Right now he gets a bitchy wife when she's PMSing. Can you imagine it when we're both doing that? I am now realizing that there's a reason why men tinker in the garage, den or basement -- it's to flee their hormone-addled wives and children. Or to avoid shoes being thrown at their heads by angry teenage girls.
Where was I? Right. Twenty-five months. Even though you are prone to fits right now, I have to say that I'm also having a lot of fun with you right now. We have conversations about things -- mostly dogs, cats, trucks and the terrible ants that swarmed up your legs when you stood on an anthill. You like to play pretend and cook for me and take "sips" from my coffee cup. You also enjoyed wearing my shiny new heels and prancing around the house in my bras. I hope you never have tits as big as mine. Despite when men say, bigger is not necessarily better.
I always knew that you were aware of your emotions, but this month, you really emphasized it. You were sitting on your training potty and I made some smart remark. You started to wail (as toddlers do) and went to the door. I asked what was wrong and you said something along the lines of "(BD) angry."
"Were you hurt by what I said?" I asked.
"Yeah."
Wow. That one blows my mind. You understand your emotions and how they work. You're barely two years old. Of course, I apologized and the tears dried and everything was quickly forgotten. Which is a bonus -- you don't hold grudges like I do (you never have). Once the tears are done, everything is bright and sunny again.
Despite this emotional maturity, we're still working on some basic social etiquette. Like sharing. You don't share well at all. Whenever you want something, you saunter up to the person, grab it and get into a tug of war. Complete with screeching. For some reason it reminds me of a sale in the fashion district of New York City. More often then not, the other kid will drop it with a facial expression equivalent to: "DUDE. OK! I DIDN'T WANT IT THAT BAD ANYWAY!"
You're also getting frightfully savvy with technological devices. You've successfully erased several apps from my iPod (yes, you play with it. I don't mind and apparently Hiya Beautiful doesn't mind being molested by sticky fingers as well) and enjoyed playing with a neighbor's Nintendo DS. You've also successfully killed one of your father's characters on the Conan MMO. I suspect it will be soon before you're fragging n00bs on Team Fortress.
If so, I will be proud to sponsor you for professional gaming. After all, college isn't cheap.
Love,
Momma
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
OMG! MORE ESTROGEN!
Just got word that my little sister gave birth to her third child! WHEE! No name as of yet, but I think that my nephew had the best name: Potato Chip.
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Ode to Julia Child
The first thing you think of when you hear the name "Julia Child" is that voice -- warbling, high-pitched -- it's what you imagine fussy looking chickens sounding like if they could talk. The second thing is the fact that the woman cooked French food, which, if you are not French, seems like a terrifying thing to do.
Or at least, that's was my thought before I began reading some of her cookbooks, her memoir "My Life in France" and seeing the trailers for Julie and Julia (in which, Meryl Streep looks like she's having way too much fun as Julia Child). Now I have to give the woman props for her writing and for being a role model for many women.
In the next few weeks, there will be many articles about Julia Child (hell, this month's Vanity Fair has a great summary of her life) popping up in support of the movie. In a quick summary:
Very tall middle class girl from California, instead of getting married as is the norm in the 1930s, goes off to help serve in the war. During which time, she ends up working for the OSS (perhaps as a spy, which is even cooler), meets her soulmate and eventually they fall in love in China amongst good food and interesting times.
After the war, the couple moves to France (he to work in government) and she finds her passion in cooking. She helps friends with a cookbooks, which after bouncing from publisher to publisher, gets published and the rest is history.
That's some of it, but really, what's inspirational is that she didn't find her life's passion until after 40. She bucked the norm at the time (which was to get your Mrs. degree and become a housewife) and married late in her 30s -- which was considered being a spinster back then.
While cooking has been derided by some feminists in the past as an overly "domestic" activity (the old image of a woman, barefoot and pregnant while chained to the stove), you can't deny that Child's legacy is an inspiration for many women. It's a reminder that we can find, pursue and succeed at our life's passion, no matter the age.
In an age where youth is king and there's the idea that you have to have your life figured out and on that track soon after graduating from college, it's nice to know that isn't always the recipe for happiness or success. Sometimes we need time to figure out what to do and maybe, by then, we'll have the drive to pursue it to the desired fullness.
As I wander into my 30s as a mother and wife, it's inspiring to know that whatever is out there waiting for me, I still can grab and seize it. Time hasn't passed me by. If Julia Child didn't find her passion until her 30s and 40s, then I think that there's still plenty of time for me. It's just a matter of finding the right spark and setting it on fire.
Or at least, that's was my thought before I began reading some of her cookbooks, her memoir "My Life in France" and seeing the trailers for Julie and Julia (in which, Meryl Streep looks like she's having way too much fun as Julia Child). Now I have to give the woman props for her writing and for being a role model for many women.
In the next few weeks, there will be many articles about Julia Child (hell, this month's Vanity Fair has a great summary of her life) popping up in support of the movie. In a quick summary:
Very tall middle class girl from California, instead of getting married as is the norm in the 1930s, goes off to help serve in the war. During which time, she ends up working for the OSS (perhaps as a spy, which is even cooler), meets her soulmate and eventually they fall in love in China amongst good food and interesting times.
After the war, the couple moves to France (he to work in government) and she finds her passion in cooking. She helps friends with a cookbooks, which after bouncing from publisher to publisher, gets published and the rest is history.
That's some of it, but really, what's inspirational is that she didn't find her life's passion until after 40. She bucked the norm at the time (which was to get your Mrs. degree and become a housewife) and married late in her 30s -- which was considered being a spinster back then.
While cooking has been derided by some feminists in the past as an overly "domestic" activity (the old image of a woman, barefoot and pregnant while chained to the stove), you can't deny that Child's legacy is an inspiration for many women. It's a reminder that we can find, pursue and succeed at our life's passion, no matter the age.
In an age where youth is king and there's the idea that you have to have your life figured out and on that track soon after graduating from college, it's nice to know that isn't always the recipe for happiness or success. Sometimes we need time to figure out what to do and maybe, by then, we'll have the drive to pursue it to the desired fullness.
As I wander into my 30s as a mother and wife, it's inspiring to know that whatever is out there waiting for me, I still can grab and seize it. Time hasn't passed me by. If Julia Child didn't find her passion until her 30s and 40s, then I think that there's still plenty of time for me. It's just a matter of finding the right spark and setting it on fire.
Saturday, July 04, 2009
Doing time
Yesterday Jeff and I celebrated 10 years of marriage. Hooray! We beat Jon and Kate and we don't have eight kids or a TV show!
When we mention to people who have just met us that we've been together for 10 years (14 including dating and such), they're always amazed. The funny thing is that most of the time, I'm not. I know his family. The men in his family are not about "I have to go find myself/afraid of commitment/need to make sure you're my soulmate." None of that. If they find someone they love, that's it. They propose, the woman accepts and there is marriage. These are very steadfast men in their devotion to their wives.
But sometimes I'm amazed more in the way of, "HOW THE HELL DO YOU PUT UP WITH MY ASS?" Seriously -- my neurotic, guilty-pleasure TV watching, opposite music taste, tempestuous, defensive, angry, passive-aggressive ass? At my worst (which he has seen), I am not a nice person. Whole cities lie in rubble of my destruction. And he's been the target sometimes. Yet he still loves me and sticks with me.
It is a strange thing to realize that someone loves you for all your faults, and also refuses to see/acknowledge them. In the past, when I asked what he loved the most about me, he'd say, "Viv." Which is a maddening answer, when you want specifics. But the older I get, the more I understand.
He loves everything. Not in a singularity, but everything that makes up the person as the package. Jeff has said the same thing about Benevolent Dictator. It's impressive to think about sometimes.
And I realize this in the wake of our adventure at Restaurant Muramoto. I hoped he would like it. I wanted him to like it. In all honesty, I had about 3/4 of our dinner. He didn't have as much. I felt guilty until he told me that part of the pleasure of dinner was seeing me have so much fun. Of course, after we saw Public Enemies (aka: BALE/DEPP CHEEKBONE-OFF!), he couldn't stop talking about a bacon pizza and turtle sundae.
But you know what? If a man can get that much pleasure out of watching me have fun at a meal he's meh with, then I think that's a wonderful thing. I love that man. For everything about him -- when I am happy with him and when I want to rip him a new one. He's a good man and I'm one lucky woman to have him.
Of course, he's also damn lucky to have a woman who puts up with his video games, odd Viking metal love, ramblings and the fact that he can't seem to find the hamper to save his life.
Happy 10th anniversary love. I'm willing to do life with you.
When we mention to people who have just met us that we've been together for 10 years (14 including dating and such), they're always amazed. The funny thing is that most of the time, I'm not. I know his family. The men in his family are not about "I have to go find myself/afraid of commitment/need to make sure you're my soulmate." None of that. If they find someone they love, that's it. They propose, the woman accepts and there is marriage. These are very steadfast men in their devotion to their wives.
But sometimes I'm amazed more in the way of, "HOW THE HELL DO YOU PUT UP WITH MY ASS?" Seriously -- my neurotic, guilty-pleasure TV watching, opposite music taste, tempestuous, defensive, angry, passive-aggressive ass? At my worst (which he has seen), I am not a nice person. Whole cities lie in rubble of my destruction. And he's been the target sometimes. Yet he still loves me and sticks with me.
It is a strange thing to realize that someone loves you for all your faults, and also refuses to see/acknowledge them. In the past, when I asked what he loved the most about me, he'd say, "Viv." Which is a maddening answer, when you want specifics. But the older I get, the more I understand.
He loves everything. Not in a singularity, but everything that makes up the person as the package. Jeff has said the same thing about Benevolent Dictator. It's impressive to think about sometimes.
And I realize this in the wake of our adventure at Restaurant Muramoto. I hoped he would like it. I wanted him to like it. In all honesty, I had about 3/4 of our dinner. He didn't have as much. I felt guilty until he told me that part of the pleasure of dinner was seeing me have so much fun. Of course, after we saw Public Enemies (aka: BALE/DEPP CHEEKBONE-OFF!), he couldn't stop talking about a bacon pizza and turtle sundae.
But you know what? If a man can get that much pleasure out of watching me have fun at a meal he's meh with, then I think that's a wonderful thing. I love that man. For everything about him -- when I am happy with him and when I want to rip him a new one. He's a good man and I'm one lucky woman to have him.
Of course, he's also damn lucky to have a woman who puts up with his video games, odd Viking metal love, ramblings and the fact that he can't seem to find the hamper to save his life.
Happy 10th anniversary love. I'm willing to do life with you.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
The King of Pop is Dead...
Disclaimer right now: I am not a huge Michael Jackson fan. I don't own any of his CD's or songs. I hated Thriller when I was a girl of 8 and everyone else was like, "OMG! HE'S THE BEST!". I have the same mindset of Bono regarding Michael Jackson songs -- if you imagine that they're in a different language, it's some of the best music you've ever heard. I also always though Janet was the coolest Jackson.
However, that doesn't mean that I can deny the great impact that man left on music and popular culture. He broke the color barrier on MTV, ushering in other acts like Run DMC. The Jackson 5 is the original boy band. Justin Timberlake, Usher and other artists like them owe Michael Jackson for their moves and singing styles.
I am not bummed, but more surprised with the news of his death. Admittedly, I thought it was an attention ploy -- much like the recent tabloid events that have occurred. Jackson had become a punchline to a joke in my mind (and admittedly other people -- even Lewis Black said so). I didn't expect this. In a way, I expected him to live on until 80 or 90, looking freakishly unaged (similar to Liza Minelli).
But he is dead. And while I may not have been a fan, I can appreciate the impact he left. He made interesting music videos, he was an amazing dancer (I wondered for YEARS how he did the lean in Smooth Criminal) and while I didn't care for his music, you can see how it influenced many artists today. For that, I have respect for the man.
RIP Michael.
This is my favorite video of his:
However, that doesn't mean that I can deny the great impact that man left on music and popular culture. He broke the color barrier on MTV, ushering in other acts like Run DMC. The Jackson 5 is the original boy band. Justin Timberlake, Usher and other artists like them owe Michael Jackson for their moves and singing styles.
I am not bummed, but more surprised with the news of his death. Admittedly, I thought it was an attention ploy -- much like the recent tabloid events that have occurred. Jackson had become a punchline to a joke in my mind (and admittedly other people -- even Lewis Black said so). I didn't expect this. In a way, I expected him to live on until 80 or 90, looking freakishly unaged (similar to Liza Minelli).
But he is dead. And while I may not have been a fan, I can appreciate the impact he left. He made interesting music videos, he was an amazing dancer (I wondered for YEARS how he did the lean in Smooth Criminal) and while I didn't care for his music, you can see how it influenced many artists today. For that, I have respect for the man.
RIP Michael.
This is my favorite video of his:
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Monthy Newsletter: 24th month: And lo, there was a toddler!
Dear Benevolent Dictator:
Tomorrow you turn two years old. Today was a birthday party with family and some friends. But I think that the biggest hit of all at the party wasn't the chocolate cake that was more dense than a black hole, but the water table. Your cousins loved it, you loved it and the neighborhood kids loved it. Your pretty party dress, was soaking wet by the end. Not that I'm sad about it.
I think the rule for a good party is the following: It's not really a good party if you come back completely clean and pristine. So in that case, it's was a VERY successful party.
I'm sorry I didn't do an update for the 23rd month. I have no excuse other than being tired and old. But no matter what, you still amaze me. What strikes me the most is your confidence. Even though you can be shy in new situations and need me around, after a few minutes you dive right in and get your hands dirty. You charm people with your smiles and your extroversion.
I was even amazed by how charming you were with the doctor for your two-year checkup and how sweet you were with the nurse. The nurse, who you saw once and burst out into tears because you knew she was the lady who gave you shots.
But you're running to me for reassurance when things don't go your way sometimes. Case in point: We went out for lunch two times with friends. Both those times our friends GENTLY admonished you for one reason or another. Both those times your face crumpled and you started sobbing into my shoulder. Now a good mother would've comforted you. What did I do?
"Quick! Let's talk now! She's quiet! We can get words in!"
If it's not clear already, you are a little chatterbox. You're doing three word sentences like, "(BD) do this," "Momma do this," "(BD) chase rabbit!" Also, when your father and I are involved in conversations you like to yell and add to the conversation. Which can be hard sometimes, especially when your interjection is, "KOALA!"
Sometimes it's hard with you. You have an iron will and a steadfastness that can steamroll through anything. Sometimes the temper tantrums wear me down as well as your constant need to have me bow to your whims. On those days, I joke about needing a stiff drink.
Whenever people have said they were thinking about kids, I'd steal a line from Dooce that was basically, "DO YOU LIKE SLEEP?" if they said yes, my reply was, "REFILL YOUR BIRTH CONTROL."
But then you'll say thanks for the new crib sheets. Or just run to me going, "HI! HI! HI!" and give me a hug. Then there's the moments where we're laying in bed together reading books. Or like today, when you were giggling madly and splashing water everywhere. Those are the moments where I want to tell those people, just find the right person, get a kid one way or another and have fun.
The past two years have been work. They've been emotionally hard sometimes. But they've also been some of the sweetest times I've had. And I have to tell you that no matter what, I will always be honored to be your mother.
Love,
Momma
Tomorrow you turn two years old. Today was a birthday party with family and some friends. But I think that the biggest hit of all at the party wasn't the chocolate cake that was more dense than a black hole, but the water table. Your cousins loved it, you loved it and the neighborhood kids loved it. Your pretty party dress, was soaking wet by the end. Not that I'm sad about it.
I think the rule for a good party is the following: It's not really a good party if you come back completely clean and pristine. So in that case, it's was a VERY successful party.
I'm sorry I didn't do an update for the 23rd month. I have no excuse other than being tired and old. But no matter what, you still amaze me. What strikes me the most is your confidence. Even though you can be shy in new situations and need me around, after a few minutes you dive right in and get your hands dirty. You charm people with your smiles and your extroversion.
I was even amazed by how charming you were with the doctor for your two-year checkup and how sweet you were with the nurse. The nurse, who you saw once and burst out into tears because you knew she was the lady who gave you shots.
But you're running to me for reassurance when things don't go your way sometimes. Case in point: We went out for lunch two times with friends. Both those times our friends GENTLY admonished you for one reason or another. Both those times your face crumpled and you started sobbing into my shoulder. Now a good mother would've comforted you. What did I do?
"Quick! Let's talk now! She's quiet! We can get words in!"
If it's not clear already, you are a little chatterbox. You're doing three word sentences like, "(BD) do this," "Momma do this," "(BD) chase rabbit!" Also, when your father and I are involved in conversations you like to yell and add to the conversation. Which can be hard sometimes, especially when your interjection is, "KOALA!"
Sometimes it's hard with you. You have an iron will and a steadfastness that can steamroll through anything. Sometimes the temper tantrums wear me down as well as your constant need to have me bow to your whims. On those days, I joke about needing a stiff drink.
Whenever people have said they were thinking about kids, I'd steal a line from Dooce that was basically, "DO YOU LIKE SLEEP?" if they said yes, my reply was, "REFILL YOUR BIRTH CONTROL."
But then you'll say thanks for the new crib sheets. Or just run to me going, "HI! HI! HI!" and give me a hug. Then there's the moments where we're laying in bed together reading books. Or like today, when you were giggling madly and splashing water everywhere. Those are the moments where I want to tell those people, just find the right person, get a kid one way or another and have fun.
The past two years have been work. They've been emotionally hard sometimes. But they've also been some of the sweetest times I've had. And I have to tell you that no matter what, I will always be honored to be your mother.
Love,
Momma
Monday, June 08, 2009
HOOOOTTTTIIIIEEEESSS IIIINNNNN SSSPPPPAAAAACCCCEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Long ago, K. once wrote an essay that worked out a basic premise: In Lord of the Rings, there is a type of man for every woman. Plain and simple. You like sensitive, rugged, manly? Aragorn. Manly, rugged, angsty? Boromir. Sensitive, rugged, but with daddy issues? Faramir. Drunk and possibly stoned? Merry and Pippin.
And so on and so on. Admittedly, after seeing the Star Trek movie a couple weeks ago, K.'s theory was in my mind. In essence, Star Trek has every type of guy for every girl -- only in space. Where no one can hear you scream (which lets you be as loud as you want I guess). So here's my view:
For those of you who like your men cocky, brash, arrogant, yet somehow a good leader and charismatic as hell, there's Captain James Tiberius Kirk.
Emotionally unavailable, but when you get to know him, he's one kettle of roiling passion with some mama and mixed racial identity issues? Spock's your man. Good luck getting to him though.
Cranky, divorced and cynical with a blunt tongue? Slightly paranoid about what could go wrong, but amazingly smart when it comes to medicine and a quick thinker on his toes, not to mention, a loyal friend? Who doesn't love Bones?
Experimental engineer who deals well with both theory and practical application? Quick with a quip? Scotty!
Mourning the loss of loved ones, has a dark side with a heaping helping of vengeful behaviors? Perhaps you can soothe Nero's troubled brow.
In need of a good father figure? There's always Captain Pike.
Do you like them young, boyish and with Russian accents? Chekov.
AND THE ASIAN GUY! SULU! (Seriously, John Cho needs more to do in the future.)
So which girl are you? I've figured now that I'm pretty much in the Bones/Scotty camp.
And so on and so on. Admittedly, after seeing the Star Trek movie a couple weeks ago, K.'s theory was in my mind. In essence, Star Trek has every type of guy for every girl -- only in space. Where no one can hear you scream (which lets you be as loud as you want I guess). So here's my view:
For those of you who like your men cocky, brash, arrogant, yet somehow a good leader and charismatic as hell, there's Captain James Tiberius Kirk.
Emotionally unavailable, but when you get to know him, he's one kettle of roiling passion with some mama and mixed racial identity issues? Spock's your man. Good luck getting to him though.
Cranky, divorced and cynical with a blunt tongue? Slightly paranoid about what could go wrong, but amazingly smart when it comes to medicine and a quick thinker on his toes, not to mention, a loyal friend? Who doesn't love Bones?
Experimental engineer who deals well with both theory and practical application? Quick with a quip? Scotty!
Mourning the loss of loved ones, has a dark side with a heaping helping of vengeful behaviors? Perhaps you can soothe Nero's troubled brow.
In need of a good father figure? There's always Captain Pike.
Do you like them young, boyish and with Russian accents? Chekov.
AND THE ASIAN GUY! SULU! (Seriously, John Cho needs more to do in the future.)So which girl are you? I've figured now that I'm pretty much in the Bones/Scotty camp.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Because I haven't done one in awhile....
and also because it amused me:
1. Do you like bleu cheese?
Yes. It is stinky, but oh so flavorful.
2. Have you ever been drunk?
Does a vampire sparkle?
3. Do you own a gun?
No. Own lots of swords, knives and armor though. So I'll be fine when the zombies attack.
4. What do you like to do on weekends?
Sleep in, which is rare, listen to "Wait, Wait" on NPR, drink coffee and chase the child around. In short, what I do everyday.
5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments?
No. I just will always hate the indignity of the pap smear.
6. What do you think of hot dogs?
Oh hot dog!/How do I love thee?/Let me count the ways./I love thee covered in ketchup/slathered in mustard/and perhaps in a poppyseed bun/I love thee in the Puka Dog, Chicago style or plain, but never undone/Sing lo! The praises of the hot dog!
Yes. I love hot dogs.
7. Favorite Christmas movie?
Christmas Story or Scrooged.
8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning?
Coffee. Cream. Two cups. As soon as humanly possible.
9. Can you do push ups?
I can wear a push-up bra, does that count?
10. What's your favorite piece of jewelry?
My wedding ring.
11. Favorite hobby?
Reading, writing, cooking, gaming, dancing, being a pervert, conquering small nations and singing badly.
12. Favorite novel?
That's like asking me to choose my favorite kid and we can't have that can we?
13. What's your favorite shoe?
None. I iz hobbit.
14. What is your middle name?
Before or after marriage?
15. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment?
I should be outside weeding.
My feet are cold.
I wonder if this meme will be amusing.
16. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink.
Coffee
Green tea
Water
17. Current worry?
Superficial: Whether I will be able to weed this weekend. Deeper: Money. Mo money, mo problems.
18. Current hate right now?
Allergies.
20. How did you bring in the New Year?
Watched the Dark Knight, went to bed at 11:30.
21. Where would you like to go?
France, England, Taiwan
22. Name three people who will complete this:
Hextor, Heironeous and Olidammara. Oh wait...did you mean people I know?
23. Do you own slippers?
Yep. Never wear them though. I suspect BD's run off with them to use them as boats or beds for her toys.
24. What color shirt are you wearing right now?
Brown
25. Do you like sleeping on Satin sheets?
I haven't, but I'd imagine you'd slide right off of them.
26. Can you whistle?
Yes.
27. Favorite colors?
Red.
28. Would you be a pirate?
What makes you think I'm not one right now?
29. What songs do you sing in the shower?
This one:
30. Favorite Girl's Names?
BD's name, Lyra, Athena
31. Favorite boy's names?
Aleric, Elijah (which I can never use), Jack
32. What's in your pocket right now?
No pockets right now. I'm wearing yoga pants.
33. Last thing that made you laugh?
BD running back and forth between Jeff and I, clad only in diapers, giggling madly as we gave her hugs.
34. Favorite summer activities?
Walking around with BD, going to the zoo, grilling and sitting at the lake with a friend.
35. Worst injury you've ever had?
Knocking my two front teeth out at age 10. I figure giving birth isn't technically an injury, but the C-Section scar is pretty cool.
36. Do you love where you live?
Yes. My family is here. My heart is here.
37. Who is your loudest friend?
Hrm. I'd say K. and Sid. With love. When we get together the decibels go up.
39. How many dogs do you have?
Sadly none. Anyone want to loan us a dog to clean up under the high chair?
40. Does someone have a crush on you?
I suspect Jeff. But he's married to me, so I don't know if that counts.
41. What is something you are really looking forward to?
Going outside and perhaps doing some weeding.
Playing with BD.
Getting to try on two dressed I ordered online.
42. What is one thing you do several times a week?
Change diapers.
43. What song do you want sung at your Funeral?
I know it's sappy, but this:
Or Queens' "Another One Bites the Dust."
44. Name something or someone you love.
My family.
1. Do you like bleu cheese?
Yes. It is stinky, but oh so flavorful.
2. Have you ever been drunk?
Does a vampire sparkle?
3. Do you own a gun?
No. Own lots of swords, knives and armor though. So I'll be fine when the zombies attack.
4. What do you like to do on weekends?
Sleep in, which is rare, listen to "Wait, Wait" on NPR, drink coffee and chase the child around. In short, what I do everyday.
5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments?
No. I just will always hate the indignity of the pap smear.
6. What do you think of hot dogs?
Oh hot dog!/How do I love thee?/Let me count the ways./I love thee covered in ketchup/slathered in mustard/and perhaps in a poppyseed bun/I love thee in the Puka Dog, Chicago style or plain, but never undone/Sing lo! The praises of the hot dog!
Yes. I love hot dogs.
7. Favorite Christmas movie?
Christmas Story or Scrooged.
8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning?
Coffee. Cream. Two cups. As soon as humanly possible.
9. Can you do push ups?
I can wear a push-up bra, does that count?
10. What's your favorite piece of jewelry?
My wedding ring.
11. Favorite hobby?
Reading, writing, cooking, gaming, dancing, being a pervert, conquering small nations and singing badly.
12. Favorite novel?
That's like asking me to choose my favorite kid and we can't have that can we?
13. What's your favorite shoe?
None. I iz hobbit.
14. What is your middle name?
Before or after marriage?
15. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment?
I should be outside weeding.
My feet are cold.
I wonder if this meme will be amusing.
16. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink.
Coffee
Green tea
Water
17. Current worry?
Superficial: Whether I will be able to weed this weekend. Deeper: Money. Mo money, mo problems.
18. Current hate right now?
Allergies.
20. How did you bring in the New Year?
Watched the Dark Knight, went to bed at 11:30.
21. Where would you like to go?
France, England, Taiwan
22. Name three people who will complete this:
Hextor, Heironeous and Olidammara. Oh wait...did you mean people I know?
23. Do you own slippers?
Yep. Never wear them though. I suspect BD's run off with them to use them as boats or beds for her toys.
24. What color shirt are you wearing right now?
Brown
25. Do you like sleeping on Satin sheets?
I haven't, but I'd imagine you'd slide right off of them.
26. Can you whistle?
Yes.
27. Favorite colors?
Red.
28. Would you be a pirate?
What makes you think I'm not one right now?
29. What songs do you sing in the shower?
This one:
30. Favorite Girl's Names?
BD's name, Lyra, Athena
31. Favorite boy's names?
Aleric, Elijah (which I can never use), Jack
32. What's in your pocket right now?
No pockets right now. I'm wearing yoga pants.
33. Last thing that made you laugh?
BD running back and forth between Jeff and I, clad only in diapers, giggling madly as we gave her hugs.
34. Favorite summer activities?
Walking around with BD, going to the zoo, grilling and sitting at the lake with a friend.
35. Worst injury you've ever had?
Knocking my two front teeth out at age 10. I figure giving birth isn't technically an injury, but the C-Section scar is pretty cool.
36. Do you love where you live?
Yes. My family is here. My heart is here.
37. Who is your loudest friend?
Hrm. I'd say K. and Sid. With love. When we get together the decibels go up.
39. How many dogs do you have?
Sadly none. Anyone want to loan us a dog to clean up under the high chair?
40. Does someone have a crush on you?
I suspect Jeff. But he's married to me, so I don't know if that counts.
41. What is something you are really looking forward to?
Going outside and perhaps doing some weeding.
Playing with BD.
Getting to try on two dressed I ordered online.
42. What is one thing you do several times a week?
Change diapers.
43. What song do you want sung at your Funeral?
I know it's sappy, but this:
Or Queens' "Another One Bites the Dust."
44. Name something or someone you love.
My family.
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