Dear Obstructionists: Claiming this watered-down bill is a "GOVERNMENT TAKE-OVER OF HEALTH CARE" is about as accurate as saying that parents who buy sunscreen for their children are "TAKING OVER THE SOLAR SYSTEM"
I'm watching CSPAN. I can't believe all the antics...
I wish there were lie detector tests so you could see if they actually BELIEVE the lies they tell.
Also, there should be immediate fact checking based on data... it is weird how you can re-write history in a statement on the floor of the house of representatives and it simply goes, uncorrected into the record.
I hope this thing passes.
I also hope I can get my sorry A$$ to bed soon...
(It's like a car accident, I can't look away.)
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Rollin' Rollin' Rollin'
Keep that baby rollin'...
ML rolled over once about 2 or 3 months ago. And then nothing, until now.
This weekend, he rolled.
And rolled.
And rolled.
He's been sleeping (knock on wood).
He's transferred to a new type of binki.
He can soothe himself and (nearly) bring that binki correctly to his mouth.
He is eating cereal,
and peas
and carrots
and sweet potatoes...
He is so beautiful and sweet.
This weekend, a lot happened:
sitting up
skooting backwards,
ROLLING,
Oh and also, as ironic as can be...
"DaDa-Da-da Da-da" is for shizzle his first discernible utterance.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Blog readers, Restart your engines!!!
If you read the GSO via computer bookmarks, reset them...
If you read the GSO by typing the address from memory, memorize this...
If you are a GSO follower via a reader, note the new URL, and Set 'em up, peeps:
www.ginsoakedolive.blogspot.com
The times are not the only thing a'changin'!
If you read the GSO by typing the address from memory, memorize this...
If you are a GSO follower via a reader, note the new URL, and Set 'em up, peeps:
www.ginsoakedolive.blogspot.com
The times are not the only thing a'changin'!
22222
Some time in the last 24 hours, our blog counter recorded our twenty-second thousand, two hundred and twenty-second hit. Katy and I really like the number "22".
It is likely that two-thirds of those hits are just me checking in on posts I've written to re-read, edit, and view comments, but still that is pretty awesome. That means on average, for every day this blog has existed, it has been visited over 15 times a day...
Cool.
UPDATE: In honor of this historic event (and to give my wife a smile- she's sick of the dark color scheme) I'm giving the blog a face-lift!!!
It is likely that two-thirds of those hits are just me checking in on posts I've written to re-read, edit, and view comments, but still that is pretty awesome. That means on average, for every day this blog has existed, it has been visited over 15 times a day...
Cool.
UPDATE: In honor of this historic event (and to give my wife a smile- she's sick of the dark color scheme) I'm giving the blog a face-lift!!!
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
6 Things you may want to know
1) ML turned 6 months this week (and the newsletter is no where near done)
2) My car's "check engine light" mysteriously went OFF this week (after months of being lit, but ignored; I guess it just gave up on trying to get my attention)
3) Today on a walk, JB saw a brown vine that was either growing up or dying around a mailbox, and he said to me, "Why is that so mulch-y". (Mulch is his frenemy since last fall when the new mulch on the playground at school would get stuck in his soft, orange jacket from Aunt Marilyn and we eventually had to stop letting him wear it so that we didn't have to spend 2 hours a night picking pieces of mulch out of it.)
4) We've been sleep training ML- I sent Kt and JB out of the house so I could spend 3 nights alone with my boy- like a warrior in the woods- teaching him not to freak out when he wakes up and cannot comprehend why there is no binki in his mouth; teaching him to soothe himself, unwind, and get to sleep without a long, faceless, parental arm reaching out into the darkness and popping a binki magically back into his mouth.
These are the rules:
a) we can't put the binki in his mouth
b) we CAN put the binki in his hand (though we try to let him find one of the 1/2 dozen we've sprinkled all around his crib)
c) we are trying the Baby Whisperer's "pick up, put down" method (PU/PD)
d) we only use PU/PD if he cries for more than 30 seconds (yes, I do mean use a stopwatch...)
So far, so good. He's a terrific little dude, but his mommies are a little scarred by that night he cried for 8 hours and then needed to be hospitalized for a week. We've been careless about teaching him to self soothe and too quick to run into his room when he makes tiny little noises.
5) Today the outside thermometer on my car read 67 degrees F on my way home from work. (Yummmm-MEeeee)
6) Our 2010 census arrived today. I plan to follow katy's advice and, "Make us as gay as humanly possible." We will fill out the census as a married same sex couple with two kids. "Person 1" is female and married to "person 2" who is also female. "Person 1" has a biological kid and an adopted kid... (so does person 2). This is confusing because even though only one of these kids is "biologically" mine, I conceived OF both of them. I was involved in every decision and every aspect of planning, conception, and birth... So part of me wants to say they are both biologically mine, but fine... we will leave it at the literal answer.
However...
When the federal government gets our census, they will change the answers. They will change the truth to something that is less like the truth and more like what some people want the truth to be. They will say we are not married; even though we are legally able to wed in this state. They will say we are single. We will tell the truth on the US census: That we choose to live in a state where we can legally be married... We will tell the truth and they will change our answers. According to the federal government, there have never been same sex couples. There have never been and still in 2010 ARE NOT ANY gay or lesbian parents. There are no families with two women raising kids. There are no families with two men raising kids. There are no children with 2 moms or 2 dads.
The federal census is a constitutionally mandated count, every 10 years, of the citizens of the united states for the purposes of maintaining an accurate or numerically reasonable representative democracy... Though the primary (constitutional) purpose of the census is to determine congressional representation, the census is used for a lot of other demographic calculations in explaining the make up of the population of the United States.
Only if the census is accurate, do people get the right number of representatives. You must be counted to count... But here we are in the United States of America in 2010, and Katy and I will be counted as 2 separate, unwed mothers who live together. This is the last census (I would bet my life on it) that the government will be allowed to change our truthful answers to fictitious answers just because we are gay. But I will be in my 40s and my children will be 10 and 12 years old before their family is allowed to count; before our descriptions of ourselves are allowed to stand, without the government stepping in and saying, "From our legal standpoint, There is no such thing as you."
2) My car's "check engine light" mysteriously went OFF this week (after months of being lit, but ignored; I guess it just gave up on trying to get my attention)
3) Today on a walk, JB saw a brown vine that was either growing up or dying around a mailbox, and he said to me, "Why is that so mulch-y". (Mulch is his frenemy since last fall when the new mulch on the playground at school would get stuck in his soft, orange jacket from Aunt Marilyn and we eventually had to stop letting him wear it so that we didn't have to spend 2 hours a night picking pieces of mulch out of it.)
4) We've been sleep training ML- I sent Kt and JB out of the house so I could spend 3 nights alone with my boy- like a warrior in the woods- teaching him not to freak out when he wakes up and cannot comprehend why there is no binki in his mouth; teaching him to soothe himself, unwind, and get to sleep without a long, faceless, parental arm reaching out into the darkness and popping a binki magically back into his mouth.
These are the rules:
a) we can't put the binki in his mouth
b) we CAN put the binki in his hand (though we try to let him find one of the 1/2 dozen we've sprinkled all around his crib)
c) we are trying the Baby Whisperer's "pick up, put down" method (PU/PD)
d) we only use PU/PD if he cries for more than 30 seconds (yes, I do mean use a stopwatch...)
So far, so good. He's a terrific little dude, but his mommies are a little scarred by that night he cried for 8 hours and then needed to be hospitalized for a week. We've been careless about teaching him to self soothe and too quick to run into his room when he makes tiny little noises.
5) Today the outside thermometer on my car read 67 degrees F on my way home from work. (Yummmm-MEeeee)
6) Our 2010 census arrived today. I plan to follow katy's advice and, "Make us as gay as humanly possible." We will fill out the census as a married same sex couple with two kids. "Person 1" is female and married to "person 2" who is also female. "Person 1" has a biological kid and an adopted kid... (so does person 2). This is confusing because even though only one of these kids is "biologically" mine, I conceived OF both of them. I was involved in every decision and every aspect of planning, conception, and birth... So part of me wants to say they are both biologically mine, but fine... we will leave it at the literal answer.
However...
When the federal government gets our census, they will change the answers. They will change the truth to something that is less like the truth and more like what some people want the truth to be. They will say we are not married; even though we are legally able to wed in this state. They will say we are single. We will tell the truth on the US census: That we choose to live in a state where we can legally be married... We will tell the truth and they will change our answers. According to the federal government, there have never been same sex couples. There have never been and still in 2010 ARE NOT ANY gay or lesbian parents. There are no families with two women raising kids. There are no families with two men raising kids. There are no children with 2 moms or 2 dads.
The federal census is a constitutionally mandated count, every 10 years, of the citizens of the united states for the purposes of maintaining an accurate or numerically reasonable representative democracy... Though the primary (constitutional) purpose of the census is to determine congressional representation, the census is used for a lot of other demographic calculations in explaining the make up of the population of the United States.
Only if the census is accurate, do people get the right number of representatives. You must be counted to count... But here we are in the United States of America in 2010, and Katy and I will be counted as 2 separate, unwed mothers who live together. This is the last census (I would bet my life on it) that the government will be allowed to change our truthful answers to fictitious answers just because we are gay. But I will be in my 40s and my children will be 10 and 12 years old before their family is allowed to count; before our descriptions of ourselves are allowed to stand, without the government stepping in and saying, "From our legal standpoint, There is no such thing as you."
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Perfection
This is why I love You tube... tell me this isn't art- high quality hilarity- that never had a forum or outlet until Feb 2005
Birthday Shout OUT
Today's my mom's birthday.
3.7 decades ago she was a newly-wed waiting for me to arrive.
She had a whole life before then, but let's focus on the part that includes me, shall we?
My mom worked hard to protect me from danger and to shield me from her fears...
She made sure I learned how to swim so that I could enjoy the ocean without anxiety...
Also, i didn't learn that she is terrified of heights until years after she accompanied us on that crazy pirate-ship amusement ride that we wanted to go on.
My mom worked hard to develop my self esteem and teach me about my worth.
Even though there were times in my life when her hopes and dreams for me felt like heavy "expectations", I never felt like I wasn't enough. Even though my childhood didn't really prepare me for the day I might realize I was gay, I never had a moment of doubt that I deserved every bit of the torrential amount of love that poured down on me.
My mom worked hard to better herself for the financial and emotional stability of our family. She attended night classes for years and never settled for a "B" if an "A" was within her reach.
She (and my dad) taught me that there will always be someone better than me;
and better off than me.
And there will always be someone worse than me;
and worse off than me.
There will always be people smarter than me;
and always be people not as smart as me...
... Insert: Rich, kind, lucky, wise, talented, musical, successful, etc
For me, that was a really helpful way to understand the world.
A slightly different take on the golden rule.
My mom is an overprotective worrier by nature. But she is KICK-Ass in an emergency or if there is a problem to be solved. When I worked in the ICU, she always told me, "I could never do what you do." But I'm not sure why she didn't realize it: That I learned the level-headedness required in that role from watching her: pull together Hopi Indian dioramas the night before they were due, create last minute costumes for a cast of 50, organize impromptu meals on wheels rotations for friends with chronic illnesses, drives to the hospital with grandparents in the middle of the night... When you think about it, applying pressure to a geysering femoral artery, throwing a hemodynamically unstable patient into a trendelenburg position, starting ACLS logarithms while simultaneously getting family members to step outside their loved one's room- these are the ICU nurse version of the same "mom" techniques - it is all about keeping internal panic and external chaos at bay and taking it one step at a time.
I don't know if maybe all moms are good at this,
but my mom is GOOD at this!
When my mom taught me about life I think she tried to be as honest as she had the words to be.
It's not always fair.
It's not always as bad as it seems.
Most things are more complicated than the people on either side of a debate would have you believe. Related to sex and puberty, there were specifics (with accompanying drawings) and conversations that were more esoteric and vague. I don't remember what was said, but I know I was taught to expect passion and desire that no one could rightly describe, for my experience would be unique. I know I was taught that intimacy shouldn't be left only to those new feelings and passions, that you should PLAN to give your brain a say too. It was conveyed to me that sex was better labeled as "un-erasable" than as "good" or "bad": a decision or event that cannot be taken back or un-done. These frank conversations helped guide me into strong, healthy relationships; and to a place of knowing that my mind, heart, and body each had a role in determining my destiny related to loving other people.
The first time I remember being truly heartbroken Mom told me: It will never be the way it was before, but it will turn out better than you can imagine right now. In all of my heartbreaks, she has found a way to tell me or show me a similar message. Without coming off like a know-it-all, she offers a quiet wisdom that is respectful of the pain of the moment while affirming the general value of difficult circumstances, and the benefits offered by the passage of time.
She has watched me grieve - standing close by, resisting the urge "try to make it better".
She has witnessed me wounded- biting her own lip in pain.
She's spent time waiting for me to come out of my various funks.
She has lived in confusion when she didn't know what was going on with me or how to relate to me.
She's has shared her friends with me, and taught me how to cook for and entertain crowds of people.
She's taught me how to worry, AND how to push anxiety back down for utility's sake.
She has always welcomed anyone I brought into her home, often feeding and mending the parts of my friends and companions that were hungry or scared. She has encouraged me to mend rifts and not let pride or selfishness get in the way of relationships.
Because of her, I trust God.
Because of her, I believe in love.
Because of her, I am not afraid to ask for help.
Because of her, I know I am not perfect, but I know I can do better.
Because of her, (let's face it) I enjoy food a little too much;
and always feel a little guilty going to bed early.
I have always had a good deal of gratitude and admiration for my mom, but when I had kids of my own, something shifted. As a Nana, my mom cares for these little ones physically and globally. And she supports their parents with gentle humility. One day a short while ago, she took care of 4 babies on a snow day, made us all dinner, and then still had the energy/patience to call me later that night (I had been complaining a little about a frustrating phase JB was going through) to tell me, "These times are hard, hang in there."
I guess I just never expected to still continue to feel this much love and nurturing beyond the womb.
i love you, mom.
Happy Birthday!
3.7 decades ago she was a newly-wed waiting for me to arrive.
She had a whole life before then, but let's focus on the part that includes me, shall we?
My mom worked hard to protect me from danger and to shield me from her fears...
She made sure I learned how to swim so that I could enjoy the ocean without anxiety...
Also, i didn't learn that she is terrified of heights until years after she accompanied us on that crazy pirate-ship amusement ride that we wanted to go on.
My mom worked hard to develop my self esteem and teach me about my worth.
Even though there were times in my life when her hopes and dreams for me felt like heavy "expectations", I never felt like I wasn't enough. Even though my childhood didn't really prepare me for the day I might realize I was gay, I never had a moment of doubt that I deserved every bit of the torrential amount of love that poured down on me.
My mom worked hard to better herself for the financial and emotional stability of our family. She attended night classes for years and never settled for a "B" if an "A" was within her reach.
She (and my dad) taught me that there will always be someone better than me;
and better off than me.
And there will always be someone worse than me;
and worse off than me.
There will always be people smarter than me;
and always be people not as smart as me...
... Insert: Rich, kind, lucky, wise, talented, musical, successful, etc
For me, that was a really helpful way to understand the world.
A slightly different take on the golden rule.
My mom is an overprotective worrier by nature. But she is KICK-Ass in an emergency or if there is a problem to be solved. When I worked in the ICU, she always told me, "I could never do what you do." But I'm not sure why she didn't realize it: That I learned the level-headedness required in that role from watching her: pull together Hopi Indian dioramas the night before they were due, create last minute costumes for a cast of 50, organize impromptu meals on wheels rotations for friends with chronic illnesses, drives to the hospital with grandparents in the middle of the night... When you think about it, applying pressure to a geysering femoral artery, throwing a hemodynamically unstable patient into a trendelenburg position, starting ACLS logarithms while simultaneously getting family members to step outside their loved one's room- these are the ICU nurse version of the same "mom" techniques - it is all about keeping internal panic and external chaos at bay and taking it one step at a time.
I don't know if maybe all moms are good at this,
but my mom is GOOD at this!
When my mom taught me about life I think she tried to be as honest as she had the words to be.
It's not always fair.
It's not always as bad as it seems.
Most things are more complicated than the people on either side of a debate would have you believe. Related to sex and puberty, there were specifics (with accompanying drawings) and conversations that were more esoteric and vague. I don't remember what was said, but I know I was taught to expect passion and desire that no one could rightly describe, for my experience would be unique. I know I was taught that intimacy shouldn't be left only to those new feelings and passions, that you should PLAN to give your brain a say too. It was conveyed to me that sex was better labeled as "un-erasable" than as "good" or "bad": a decision or event that cannot be taken back or un-done. These frank conversations helped guide me into strong, healthy relationships; and to a place of knowing that my mind, heart, and body each had a role in determining my destiny related to loving other people.
The first time I remember being truly heartbroken Mom told me: It will never be the way it was before, but it will turn out better than you can imagine right now. In all of my heartbreaks, she has found a way to tell me or show me a similar message. Without coming off like a know-it-all, she offers a quiet wisdom that is respectful of the pain of the moment while affirming the general value of difficult circumstances, and the benefits offered by the passage of time.
She has watched me grieve - standing close by, resisting the urge "try to make it better".
She has witnessed me wounded- biting her own lip in pain.
She's spent time waiting for me to come out of my various funks.
She has lived in confusion when she didn't know what was going on with me or how to relate to me.
She's has shared her friends with me, and taught me how to cook for and entertain crowds of people.
She's taught me how to worry, AND how to push anxiety back down for utility's sake.
She has always welcomed anyone I brought into her home, often feeding and mending the parts of my friends and companions that were hungry or scared. She has encouraged me to mend rifts and not let pride or selfishness get in the way of relationships.
Because of her, I trust God.
Because of her, I believe in love.
Because of her, I am not afraid to ask for help.
Because of her, I know I am not perfect, but I know I can do better.
Because of her, (let's face it) I enjoy food a little too much;
and always feel a little guilty going to bed early.
I have always had a good deal of gratitude and admiration for my mom, but when I had kids of my own, something shifted. As a Nana, my mom cares for these little ones physically and globally. And she supports their parents with gentle humility. One day a short while ago, she took care of 4 babies on a snow day, made us all dinner, and then still had the energy/patience to call me later that night (I had been complaining a little about a frustrating phase JB was going through) to tell me, "These times are hard, hang in there."
I guess I just never expected to still continue to feel this much love and nurturing beyond the womb.
i love you, mom.
Happy Birthday!
Saturday, March 06, 2010
Overtired at lunch
T: What do you want to eat?
JB: a sandwich?
T: Grilled cheese?
JB: yeah.
(Ten minutes later, JB peeling the grilled cheese open, starts to cry)
T: What's the matter?!?
JB: (tugging at the melted cheese) I no like this.
T: That's the cheese.
JB: TAKE IT OFF!
T: I can't take it off, it's melted on.
JB: (with excessive and dramatic whining) Melt IT OFF!
JB: a sandwich?
T: Grilled cheese?
JB: yeah.
(Ten minutes later, JB peeling the grilled cheese open, starts to cry)
T: What's the matter?!?
JB: (tugging at the melted cheese) I no like this.
T: That's the cheese.
JB: TAKE IT OFF!
T: I can't take it off, it's melted on.
JB: (with excessive and dramatic whining) Melt IT OFF!
Thursday, March 04, 2010
Just a little tender
I am at work.
I am actually doing things at work. I cannot believe I am even interrupting my "flow" to post this but I want to say that things have been hard. Not in my "actual life" but "inside of me" where you can get lonely sometimes even when you are surrounded by love and amazing things... Maybe it's the winter and I'm seasonally affected or some such thing. Maybe it is the tingles of depression dusted on my genes by some of my ancestors, maybe it's the culmination of what has gone on in our live in the last 12 months- lots of it good, some bad... Most of it stressful...
Yesterday I got a call from a State School BFF whose 6 month old son got a fever. (He's fine.) She called to tell me "I don't know how you did it when ML was sick. I can't imagine how hard that was". Her message was sweet and funny and it made me smile and giggle. And then when I hung up, I started bawling. Crying. Hard. Out of the blue. Baffled and embarrassed for the entire 30 seconds until I pulled myself together in a "What was that?!?" sniffle. It was a wave of emotion that washed over me and disappeared.
I had really no idea that was inside of me.
That... like... scary, wounded, anxiety tears could burst unannounced thru the doors the instant a friend pads the safe room walls with an "I'm sorry you had to go thru that" on my voice-mail 3 months later.
Whoa.
The reasons I'm writing now from work are:
1) I don't want to forget to write what I wrote above because a lot of the times when i post it is when I'm feeling pretty good and parenting AND life is more about ups and downs.
2) Lately, by the time I get the kids to bed I have about 6 minutes before I get hit by a wall of exhaustion.
3) If you are not watching "Modern Family" on TeeVee, please set your DVR and/or go get hooked up with a DVR. Maybe it is my diminished mental capacity, but If this isn't the funniest show on right now, I'll eat one of JB's socks. It hits me right where I live. I love the office and 30 rock, but even in my melancholy, MF made me laugh out loud 6 times in the first 90 seconds of the episode last night. Katy watches it with me b/c she thinks if's funny to watch ME laugh.
4) We are finally restarting housekeeping services. We cannot keep up with the mess. And my sanity and my marriage is more important than my desire to succeed in the category of "be better about cleaning". It feels like I've failed only until about 6 seconds after the call is made. And then (with 100% candor I tell you) I feel like an enormous weight has been lifted... They are coming tomorrow to help with our filth.
5) Acts 3 and 4 (I appreciate all the positive feedback) are not written, but forthcoming. Sorry to keep especially the womb whisperer waiting. I'm sure that any momentum in the "you almost made me want to have kids" category has been lost, but we'll work thru it.
6) There is a lot going on in the health care debate right now. I wish I could get my shit together to comment and write more about it. If you want to know where I am in it and/or the things that interest me, you should keep up with Rachel Maddow. The podcast of her show (there's an iphone app) is as refreshing as water. And my favorite source of news and tidbits is JoeMyGod. His blog is a daily "must read" for me.
-----
sent from my iphone
I am actually doing things at work. I cannot believe I am even interrupting my "flow" to post this but I want to say that things have been hard. Not in my "actual life" but "inside of me" where you can get lonely sometimes even when you are surrounded by love and amazing things... Maybe it's the winter and I'm seasonally affected or some such thing. Maybe it is the tingles of depression dusted on my genes by some of my ancestors, maybe it's the culmination of what has gone on in our live in the last 12 months- lots of it good, some bad... Most of it stressful...
Yesterday I got a call from a State School BFF whose 6 month old son got a fever. (He's fine.) She called to tell me "I don't know how you did it when ML was sick. I can't imagine how hard that was". Her message was sweet and funny and it made me smile and giggle. And then when I hung up, I started bawling. Crying. Hard. Out of the blue. Baffled and embarrassed for the entire 30 seconds until I pulled myself together in a "What was that?!?" sniffle. It was a wave of emotion that washed over me and disappeared.
I had really no idea that was inside of me.
That... like... scary, wounded, anxiety tears could burst unannounced thru the doors the instant a friend pads the safe room walls with an "I'm sorry you had to go thru that" on my voice-mail 3 months later.
Whoa.
The reasons I'm writing now from work are:
1) I don't want to forget to write what I wrote above because a lot of the times when i post it is when I'm feeling pretty good and parenting AND life is more about ups and downs.
2) Lately, by the time I get the kids to bed I have about 6 minutes before I get hit by a wall of exhaustion.
3) If you are not watching "Modern Family" on TeeVee, please set your DVR and/or go get hooked up with a DVR. Maybe it is my diminished mental capacity, but If this isn't the funniest show on right now, I'll eat one of JB's socks. It hits me right where I live. I love the office and 30 rock, but even in my melancholy, MF made me laugh out loud 6 times in the first 90 seconds of the episode last night. Katy watches it with me b/c she thinks if's funny to watch ME laugh.
4) We are finally restarting housekeeping services. We cannot keep up with the mess. And my sanity and my marriage is more important than my desire to succeed in the category of "be better about cleaning". It feels like I've failed only until about 6 seconds after the call is made. And then (with 100% candor I tell you) I feel like an enormous weight has been lifted... They are coming tomorrow to help with our filth.
5) Acts 3 and 4 (I appreciate all the positive feedback) are not written, but forthcoming. Sorry to keep especially the womb whisperer waiting. I'm sure that any momentum in the "you almost made me want to have kids" category has been lost, but we'll work thru it.
6) There is a lot going on in the health care debate right now. I wish I could get my shit together to comment and write more about it. If you want to know where I am in it and/or the things that interest me, you should keep up with Rachel Maddow. The podcast of her show (there's an iphone app) is as refreshing as water. And my favorite source of news and tidbits is JoeMyGod. His blog is a daily "must read" for me.
-----
sent from my iphone
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Explaining the world: Act Two, Just us Boys
[In case you missed it, Act One: Manikins]
Act Two: Just us boys
Monday, JB went for a follow up ENT appointment.
He was so good. So tolerant of people sticking things into the holes on his face. So willing to listen. So "Chill-ax" for a 2.5 year old. (This is a new thing we are saying around here... the other day JB told ML to "chill out" and Katy and I thought that sounded a little harsh even though we knew it came directly out of our mouths, so we started saying, "Chill-ax".)
The audiologist left the room after her initial round of tests and my son and I were left alone together. I was quiet, a little zoned out. Even though I expected nothing but good news, I was a little stressed coming in that we might be told his tubes were not in place. I was enjoying the peace of knowing that was not the case. JB was swinging his legs gently; looking around the joint. He asked me what a few things hanging on the wall were: oxygen, suction setup, electrical outlets, decorations. Then he slapped his hands on his lap and said in a sort of sigh, "Two boys."
"Two boys" He repeats, as he looks up at the ceiling and down the opposite wall.
"Hmm?" I snap out of my mental vacation, but have no idea what he is talking about. "Who?" I ask. "You and ML?"
"NO," he replied with increased urgency: "Two boys! You and me."
Oh.
I look at our matching jeans. Both wearing boots. The LLBean coats I'm carrying around: One is red and tiny- a miniature replica of the green one that keeps me warm, yes- but more importantly, it's pockets eliminate my need to carry around a "purse" or bag for the winter.
I smile to myself as I consider exactly what characteristics that he might associate with "boyhood". I certainly still dress pretty tom-boyish compared to a lot of women out there, but I'm pretty big chested and don't really see myself as someone who would be mistaken for a boy (by adults).
"There are two of us, but Mommy's not a boy." I tell him.
He brings his hand to his mouth and cracks up because he thinks I am kidding: "That's silly, Mommy."
I laugh because because his giggles are infectious and because we have taught him to be comical and to assume that we are joking with him and to recognize teasing and appreciate a good joke. Last week I did something he thought was funny and he told me I was "hilarious"...
Katy and I have talked to JB about the "penis and vagina" thing as a way to differentiate between boys and girls, but that day in the ENT's office, no one was naked... and people are not always going to be naked when we are looking at them to decide if they are boys or girls; and gender is so much more complex than that.
The truth is that we have a lot of friends and family that fit into very stereotypical "girl" and "boy" labels. But we have a lot of friends and family that might blend or blur those labels either in the way they dress, or keep their hair, the way they act, the jobs they do, or the hobbies they enjoy. And frankly, I'm much more intrigued by his perspective. I'd rather spend this time learning the things that he thinks make someone a boy or a girl (for my own curiosity's sake) than drilling into him that girls have penis' and boys have vaginas (Strike that, Reverse it: I wrote that wrong, but I think I'll keep it wrong to let you measure how close that statement comes to making your head explode.)
"No it's true," I tell him. "Mommy is a girl and you are a boy. Mommy and Mama have two boys, you and ML, but we are both girls." He looks at me with a crooked smile waiting to see if I'm serious or not. Then we review the boys in our life and the girls in our life. He's fine with it. No more commentary. No questions. No discomfort. And a practically alarming lack of "whys" considering how often that word normally pops up in any discussion with him.
We finish the visit and he charms everyone with ongoing cuteness. On our way home, we stop at the mall and at one point run into a sales woman with a 1/2 inch long horseshoe shaped mustache. She was wearing a skirt, a v-neck shirt that advertised a push up bra and an ample bosom, and a pair of fashionable, women's high-heeled boots. She was working at Lord and Taylor and even my "well-educated, feminist, homosexual" brain was wondering if we were being "Punked". The mustache grew down beyond the corners of her mouth and the hair was dark and grew thickly. She did not seem to be old enough to be menopausal. I mentally applauded her courage. This juxtaposition of gender characteristics is rare in salespeople; and whatever the back story, she must face a fair amount of public scrutiny.
A different kid, a different day, a different moment, JB would have would have been all over this. He would have pointed to her and asked me about her "whiskers" because he is exceedingly attentive to details, incongruencies, and is generally curious about facial hair. But that day, he was totally un-phased.
Later, we're driving home after picking up ML from day care. JB and I pepper him with questions he can't answer, "How was your day, ML?" "What did you do?" "Did you have a good day?" "Are you hungry?" As we turn onto our street, JB sighs a satisfied sigh, like he just ate a good meal with some buddies and says, in his singsongy way that turns 2 syllables into 6: "Three boys..."
I laugh out loud. "Three boys? In this car?"
"Yes-" he starts to say, and then, "Nooooooooooooo..." his cooing elongates the word as if that is necessary to cover the mistake. He remembers: "You are a girl mommy."
We have a lot more conversations ahead of us. There will be a lot of car rides and times waiting together in offices and late night chats about the differences between boys and girls... And what it means to be a girl or to be a boy... And how to satisfy and combat the associated expectations of those labels... And why there is not a dad in our house and what that means and how that feels.
There will be a lot more to come about how some people are girls and some are boys and some are both and some look like one but feel like the other. There will be a lot coming up about how the world has generally treated girls and boys, set them apart, set them up to compete, and sometimes hurt each other or hold each other in contempt. We will have to discuss how history has sometimes been cruel to both genders and things can still be unfair and hurtful. There will be a lot about what it means to be a real man and how being tough and strong sometimes means standing up for yourself or others, and sometimes means holding someone while they cry, and sometimes means walking away and refusing to fight. There will be a lot about what being gay means and what being straight means and what being bi- means and how sexual orientation is different from gender identification.
O.
M.
G.
We have a lot ahead of us in explaining this part of the world... but for now, I don't want him to care too much or even know too much about the difference. Right now, he is perfect not really understanding. We just have to give him a little so that he gets enough of it "right" at school that no one calls DCF on us!
I smile into the rear-view mirror: "I am a girl who loves my boys," I tell them.
Act Two: Just us boys
Monday, JB went for a follow up ENT appointment.
He was so good. So tolerant of people sticking things into the holes on his face. So willing to listen. So "Chill-ax" for a 2.5 year old. (This is a new thing we are saying around here... the other day JB told ML to "chill out" and Katy and I thought that sounded a little harsh even though we knew it came directly out of our mouths, so we started saying, "Chill-ax".)
The audiologist left the room after her initial round of tests and my son and I were left alone together. I was quiet, a little zoned out. Even though I expected nothing but good news, I was a little stressed coming in that we might be told his tubes were not in place. I was enjoying the peace of knowing that was not the case. JB was swinging his legs gently; looking around the joint. He asked me what a few things hanging on the wall were: oxygen, suction setup, electrical outlets, decorations. Then he slapped his hands on his lap and said in a sort of sigh, "Two boys."
"Two boys" He repeats, as he looks up at the ceiling and down the opposite wall.
"Hmm?" I snap out of my mental vacation, but have no idea what he is talking about. "Who?" I ask. "You and ML?"
"NO," he replied with increased urgency: "Two boys! You and me."
Oh.
I look at our matching jeans. Both wearing boots. The LLBean coats I'm carrying around: One is red and tiny- a miniature replica of the green one that keeps me warm, yes- but more importantly, it's pockets eliminate my need to carry around a "purse" or bag for the winter.
I smile to myself as I consider exactly what characteristics that he might associate with "boyhood". I certainly still dress pretty tom-boyish compared to a lot of women out there, but I'm pretty big chested and don't really see myself as someone who would be mistaken for a boy (by adults).
"There are two of us, but Mommy's not a boy." I tell him.
He brings his hand to his mouth and cracks up because he thinks I am kidding: "That's silly, Mommy."
I laugh because because his giggles are infectious and because we have taught him to be comical and to assume that we are joking with him and to recognize teasing and appreciate a good joke. Last week I did something he thought was funny and he told me I was "hilarious"...
Katy and I have talked to JB about the "penis and vagina" thing as a way to differentiate between boys and girls, but that day in the ENT's office, no one was naked... and people are not always going to be naked when we are looking at them to decide if they are boys or girls; and gender is so much more complex than that.
The truth is that we have a lot of friends and family that fit into very stereotypical "girl" and "boy" labels. But we have a lot of friends and family that might blend or blur those labels either in the way they dress, or keep their hair, the way they act, the jobs they do, or the hobbies they enjoy. And frankly, I'm much more intrigued by his perspective. I'd rather spend this time learning the things that he thinks make someone a boy or a girl (for my own curiosity's sake) than drilling into him that girls have penis' and boys have vaginas (Strike that, Reverse it: I wrote that wrong, but I think I'll keep it wrong to let you measure how close that statement comes to making your head explode.)
"No it's true," I tell him. "Mommy is a girl and you are a boy. Mommy and Mama have two boys, you and ML, but we are both girls." He looks at me with a crooked smile waiting to see if I'm serious or not. Then we review the boys in our life and the girls in our life. He's fine with it. No more commentary. No questions. No discomfort. And a practically alarming lack of "whys" considering how often that word normally pops up in any discussion with him.
We finish the visit and he charms everyone with ongoing cuteness. On our way home, we stop at the mall and at one point run into a sales woman with a 1/2 inch long horseshoe shaped mustache. She was wearing a skirt, a v-neck shirt that advertised a push up bra and an ample bosom, and a pair of fashionable, women's high-heeled boots. She was working at Lord and Taylor and even my "well-educated, feminist, homosexual" brain was wondering if we were being "Punked". The mustache grew down beyond the corners of her mouth and the hair was dark and grew thickly. She did not seem to be old enough to be menopausal. I mentally applauded her courage. This juxtaposition of gender characteristics is rare in salespeople; and whatever the back story, she must face a fair amount of public scrutiny.
A different kid, a different day, a different moment, JB would have would have been all over this. He would have pointed to her and asked me about her "whiskers" because he is exceedingly attentive to details, incongruencies, and is generally curious about facial hair. But that day, he was totally un-phased.
Later, we're driving home after picking up ML from day care. JB and I pepper him with questions he can't answer, "How was your day, ML?" "What did you do?" "Did you have a good day?" "Are you hungry?" As we turn onto our street, JB sighs a satisfied sigh, like he just ate a good meal with some buddies and says, in his singsongy way that turns 2 syllables into 6: "Three boys..."
I laugh out loud. "Three boys? In this car?"
"Yes-" he starts to say, and then, "Nooooooooooooo..." his cooing elongates the word as if that is necessary to cover the mistake. He remembers: "You are a girl mommy."
We have a lot more conversations ahead of us. There will be a lot of car rides and times waiting together in offices and late night chats about the differences between boys and girls... And what it means to be a girl or to be a boy... And how to satisfy and combat the associated expectations of those labels... And why there is not a dad in our house and what that means and how that feels.
There will be a lot more to come about how some people are girls and some are boys and some are both and some look like one but feel like the other. There will be a lot coming up about how the world has generally treated girls and boys, set them apart, set them up to compete, and sometimes hurt each other or hold each other in contempt. We will have to discuss how history has sometimes been cruel to both genders and things can still be unfair and hurtful. There will be a lot about what it means to be a real man and how being tough and strong sometimes means standing up for yourself or others, and sometimes means holding someone while they cry, and sometimes means walking away and refusing to fight. There will be a lot about what being gay means and what being straight means and what being bi- means and how sexual orientation is different from gender identification.
O.
M.
G.
We have a lot ahead of us in explaining this part of the world... but for now, I don't want him to care too much or even know too much about the difference. Right now, he is perfect not really understanding. We just have to give him a little so that he gets enough of it "right" at school that no one calls DCF on us!
I smile into the rear-view mirror: "I am a girl who loves my boys," I tell them.
Rough few days
The week has been hard already and the snow is coming now.
Snow is not a metaphor... I really mean "snow" as in "wintery mix" that will either bury us or miss us completely- we won't know until it is over this weekend. The weather people are way off their game this year.
I am hurting from a lack of sleep. I stayed up Monday to write that post and then was up most of the night with both kids and in the morning I felt like I might not make it. The boys have been needy and I have been short tempered at times. Tuesday's drop off left my nerves shot because I spent an hour rushing them (esp JB) out of the house. Rushing the kids is my least favorite part of parenting (though fingernail and toenail trimming run a close 2nd)... but there is really no way around rushing them sometimes. I tried not to cry on the drive to work, but a few tears did leak out.
Last night I got a few hours of sleep and woke up feeling better. I even worked out tonight, so I am feeling NOT as much like DYING as I was the day before... But JB was sent home from school after vomiting. And ML slept fairly well last night, so tonight will likely not go as well. Both kids have terrible coughs. They are drippy messes and i wouldn't be surprised if JB's stomach thing is merely associated with mucus production and inadvertent digestion of said mucus. I say that now fully aware I may be cleaning vomit and/or diarrhea and changing sheets before dawn. Now Katy seems to be coming down with something. None of us really felt like eating diner. She asked for a protein shake and we gave JB a few sips of that with some pedialite. ML ate almost as much as either of them in the form of drippy rice cereal.
The wife and I have tickets to see a show in NYC this weekend (Christmas gift from my sis and Bill- who have agreed to also take our kids for 2 nights.) We have been looking toward the weekend like it is a drink of water and we are in the desert, but if JB is actually sick (there seems to be 2 bugs going around day care: a real 24 hour GI bug and then the "your kid puked at day care, but went home and didn't seem sick at all pseudo-bug") and/or if Katy is sick, the weekend might not be a weekend at all but just a drive in for a show.
I hope not. I'm really looking forward to spending some alone time with her and perhaps getting 8 or so hrs of uninterrupted sleep.
Snow is not a metaphor... I really mean "snow" as in "wintery mix" that will either bury us or miss us completely- we won't know until it is over this weekend. The weather people are way off their game this year.
I am hurting from a lack of sleep. I stayed up Monday to write that post and then was up most of the night with both kids and in the morning I felt like I might not make it. The boys have been needy and I have been short tempered at times. Tuesday's drop off left my nerves shot because I spent an hour rushing them (esp JB) out of the house. Rushing the kids is my least favorite part of parenting (though fingernail and toenail trimming run a close 2nd)... but there is really no way around rushing them sometimes. I tried not to cry on the drive to work, but a few tears did leak out.
Last night I got a few hours of sleep and woke up feeling better. I even worked out tonight, so I am feeling NOT as much like DYING as I was the day before... But JB was sent home from school after vomiting. And ML slept fairly well last night, so tonight will likely not go as well. Both kids have terrible coughs. They are drippy messes and i wouldn't be surprised if JB's stomach thing is merely associated with mucus production and inadvertent digestion of said mucus. I say that now fully aware I may be cleaning vomit and/or diarrhea and changing sheets before dawn. Now Katy seems to be coming down with something. None of us really felt like eating diner. She asked for a protein shake and we gave JB a few sips of that with some pedialite. ML ate almost as much as either of them in the form of drippy rice cereal.
The wife and I have tickets to see a show in NYC this weekend (Christmas gift from my sis and Bill- who have agreed to also take our kids for 2 nights.) We have been looking toward the weekend like it is a drink of water and we are in the desert, but if JB is actually sick (there seems to be 2 bugs going around day care: a real 24 hour GI bug and then the "your kid puked at day care, but went home and didn't seem sick at all pseudo-bug") and/or if Katy is sick, the weekend might not be a weekend at all but just a drive in for a show.
I hope not. I'm really looking forward to spending some alone time with her and perhaps getting 8 or so hrs of uninterrupted sleep.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Explaining the world: Act One, Manikins
So this is the thing about becoming a parent...
A thoughtful individual plans for it, but it is exceedingly difficult to imagine how it will manifest itself... or when.
This week has been full of heartwarming and amazing interactions with JB that have kept an exciting and startling notion ever-present in the frontal lobe of my brain. Namely, this: On a daily basis it is our job to EXPLAIN the ENTIRE WORLD to these kids. I cannot tell you how many times in the last 2 weeks I nearly died: D.I.E.D. at how cute and smart our 2 (and nearly 1/2) year old is. No offense to ML. I'm sure he will be as heart-wrenchingly glorious, but from my perspective 2 and 1/2 is where most of life gets taught and (for better or for worse) in a tentatively adorable way, gets regurgitated back.
I've been listening to a lot of "This American Life" lately, so this post is going to be broken down into 4 posts and/or 4 Acts.
Act One: Manikins
So Saturday is the day we (JB and I) go to gymnastics. He started going with my sister during ML's illness. He went 3 or 4 weeks in a row when she was taking care of him and at that point we just signed him up. When he started, he couldn't jump (2 feet simultaneously off the ground) and he wouldn't do the stretches (instead just stubbornly standing with his hands clasped behind his back, staring down at the mat like a very tiny Rainman while everyone else did the warm up stretches.) Now, nearly a 1/2 a year later, he has all these moves and stretches and so much more control over his body. It is really impressive and it is really sweet.
This week after gymnastics, I had a lot of errands to run, so I called Katy and told her that JB and I were headed out into the world. He got a haircut, we got a bagel, and then went to a few stores to look for clothes for him and some other things.
He seems to really like shopping. I don't mean that he wants to buy things, he likes to go out into the world and look at things and ask what they are and what they are for, and listen and look and (sometimes) touch. I mean he is a bit of a "student of life" and there is no better way to learn about life in a capitalisitc society than hitting the shops. He understands that we go into stores and the "stuff" contained within isn't "ours" unless we buy it. This took a little bit of time to get him to understand and now even though he doesn't really understand about the different costs of things, he knows that we go to work to "bring home the bacon" and that the stores just don't give you what you want... unless you give them some money or a credit card. He understands there are different kinds of stores and will ask if we say we are going to a store: "Grocery?" or sometimes, "Which one?"
Sometimes while shopping, he asks if we can buy something; but he's just as likely to point to something in a store and ask us to "look at this, Mommy." or ask, "What is that?" or tell us what something seems to be to him: "That looks like Lion King, Mommy."
He was super sweet when I took him into an electronic/game store. Browsing for our barely played Wii, i let him roam fairly untethered around looking at the covers of the empty game cases. At one point, he crawled half his body under a shelving unit and I looked at him like, "What the hell are you doing?!?" He wiggled out and presented me with a penny that he had just rescued from what was sure to be a losing battle with the nozzle of a carelessly run vacuum: "Here. I found this, Mommy."
Then in the second hand store, he tried on all the shoes I asked him to and he begged for the 4 sizes too big "Lightening McQueen" rain boots.
At the party supply store, he turned into an 80 year old (easily thrilled) woman before my eyes: Every new color of table cloth and decorative cup was like a miracle to him. "Mommy. Mommy. Look. Look. I wanna show you something... look, blue cups!!! Mommy. Mommy. Look, Green cups!! Ma. Mommy. Pink cups!!!" I was snickering and giggling, and laughing through the entire store. There were life size M and Ms that almost sent him over the edge. There was a wall of Mylar balloons that nearly blew his mind. There were FORKS IN EVERY COLOR!!! When we went down the aisle that had "themed supplies" he found a "Cars" plastic platter, chip and dip holder with Mater and Lightening McQueen on it. He held up the platter near his tiny head, and tilting it up toward me he whimpered: "Mommy, Look!!! This is Adorable!!!"
The entire time we were in there, he didn't ask to buy any of this stuff. I know b/c I was so in love with him during this outing that if he had desired a package of cups in every color, they would probably be in our basement right now...
He just seemed to be enjoying the fact that it is all out there to look at and see. Truth be told, this is a lot of what shopping is to me too. Sometimes I want to go out and spend money. But more often than not, I can walk thru a store like target, fill up a cart and slowly unfill it as I approach the checkout. Just looking around at all the shit that is out there, is fairly satisfying to me.
Last stop was Gap. I had to return a gift that was purchased on line and it took a long time to get a store credit b/c the computer kept just wanting to credit the card that was originally charged. JB was getting a little rambunctious and at some point I turned my attention to him. He looked at me and then at these two manikins nearby. After several moments of eyeballing the manikins he said, "What that mommy?" I explained what they were and the name: Manikin. I explained what they were for: to display the clothes and that they weren't real, they only existed so that people could see how the clothes look when they get worn. JB asked me, "He going somewhere?" I was perplexed for a few seconds until I grasped his point.
"No," I replied. "That one is wearing a bag, and that one is wearing a coat. They are dressed to look like they are going somewhere, but they don't leave the store. They don't walk or move. They aren't real."
He thought about this and asked a follow up, "They just pretending?" I agreed with that assessment and re-iterated the purpose of manikins to display clothes. Then he looked around the store with the confused and somewhat horrified expression of someone who wakes up to a world he barely recognizes:"Mommy, they everywhere."
I could seriously have died. He slays me. In the 3 days since the eye-opening discovery of manikins, JB cannot stop talking about them. And I too am forever changed. They really are kind of creepy. The ones in Gap don't even heads. and if you go into a store like that and you are just looking around with the intention to notice such things, they really ARE everywhere.
But more importantly, How cute is this kid?
A thoughtful individual plans for it, but it is exceedingly difficult to imagine how it will manifest itself... or when.
This week has been full of heartwarming and amazing interactions with JB that have kept an exciting and startling notion ever-present in the frontal lobe of my brain. Namely, this: On a daily basis it is our job to EXPLAIN the ENTIRE WORLD to these kids. I cannot tell you how many times in the last 2 weeks I nearly died: D.I.E.D. at how cute and smart our 2 (and nearly 1/2) year old is. No offense to ML. I'm sure he will be as heart-wrenchingly glorious, but from my perspective 2 and 1/2 is where most of life gets taught and (for better or for worse) in a tentatively adorable way, gets regurgitated back.
I've been listening to a lot of "This American Life" lately, so this post is going to be broken down into 4 posts and/or 4 Acts.
Act One: Manikins
So Saturday is the day we (JB and I) go to gymnastics. He started going with my sister during ML's illness. He went 3 or 4 weeks in a row when she was taking care of him and at that point we just signed him up. When he started, he couldn't jump (2 feet simultaneously off the ground) and he wouldn't do the stretches (instead just stubbornly standing with his hands clasped behind his back, staring down at the mat like a very tiny Rainman while everyone else did the warm up stretches.) Now, nearly a 1/2 a year later, he has all these moves and stretches and so much more control over his body. It is really impressive and it is really sweet.
This week after gymnastics, I had a lot of errands to run, so I called Katy and told her that JB and I were headed out into the world. He got a haircut, we got a bagel, and then went to a few stores to look for clothes for him and some other things.
He seems to really like shopping. I don't mean that he wants to buy things, he likes to go out into the world and look at things and ask what they are and what they are for, and listen and look and (sometimes) touch. I mean he is a bit of a "student of life" and there is no better way to learn about life in a capitalisitc society than hitting the shops. He understands that we go into stores and the "stuff" contained within isn't "ours" unless we buy it. This took a little bit of time to get him to understand and now even though he doesn't really understand about the different costs of things, he knows that we go to work to "bring home the bacon" and that the stores just don't give you what you want... unless you give them some money or a credit card. He understands there are different kinds of stores and will ask if we say we are going to a store: "Grocery?" or sometimes, "Which one?"
Sometimes while shopping, he asks if we can buy something; but he's just as likely to point to something in a store and ask us to "look at this, Mommy." or ask, "What is that?" or tell us what something seems to be to him: "That looks like Lion King, Mommy."
He was super sweet when I took him into an electronic/game store. Browsing for our barely played Wii, i let him roam fairly untethered around looking at the covers of the empty game cases. At one point, he crawled half his body under a shelving unit and I looked at him like, "What the hell are you doing?!?" He wiggled out and presented me with a penny that he had just rescued from what was sure to be a losing battle with the nozzle of a carelessly run vacuum: "Here. I found this, Mommy."
Then in the second hand store, he tried on all the shoes I asked him to and he begged for the 4 sizes too big "Lightening McQueen" rain boots.
At the party supply store, he turned into an 80 year old (easily thrilled) woman before my eyes: Every new color of table cloth and decorative cup was like a miracle to him. "Mommy. Mommy. Look. Look. I wanna show you something... look, blue cups!!! Mommy. Mommy. Look, Green cups!! Ma. Mommy. Pink cups!!!" I was snickering and giggling, and laughing through the entire store. There were life size M and Ms that almost sent him over the edge. There was a wall of Mylar balloons that nearly blew his mind. There were FORKS IN EVERY COLOR!!! When we went down the aisle that had "themed supplies" he found a "Cars" plastic platter, chip and dip holder with Mater and Lightening McQueen on it. He held up the platter near his tiny head, and tilting it up toward me he whimpered: "Mommy, Look!!! This is Adorable!!!"
The entire time we were in there, he didn't ask to buy any of this stuff. I know b/c I was so in love with him during this outing that if he had desired a package of cups in every color, they would probably be in our basement right now...
He just seemed to be enjoying the fact that it is all out there to look at and see. Truth be told, this is a lot of what shopping is to me too. Sometimes I want to go out and spend money. But more often than not, I can walk thru a store like target, fill up a cart and slowly unfill it as I approach the checkout. Just looking around at all the shit that is out there, is fairly satisfying to me.
Last stop was Gap. I had to return a gift that was purchased on line and it took a long time to get a store credit b/c the computer kept just wanting to credit the card that was originally charged. JB was getting a little rambunctious and at some point I turned my attention to him. He looked at me and then at these two manikins nearby. After several moments of eyeballing the manikins he said, "What that mommy?" I explained what they were and the name: Manikin. I explained what they were for: to display the clothes and that they weren't real, they only existed so that people could see how the clothes look when they get worn. JB asked me, "He going somewhere?" I was perplexed for a few seconds until I grasped his point.
"No," I replied. "That one is wearing a bag, and that one is wearing a coat. They are dressed to look like they are going somewhere, but they don't leave the store. They don't walk or move. They aren't real."
He thought about this and asked a follow up, "They just pretending?" I agreed with that assessment and re-iterated the purpose of manikins to display clothes. Then he looked around the store with the confused and somewhat horrified expression of someone who wakes up to a world he barely recognizes:"Mommy, they everywhere."
I could seriously have died. He slays me. In the 3 days since the eye-opening discovery of manikins, JB cannot stop talking about them. And I too am forever changed. They really are kind of creepy. The ones in Gap don't even heads. and if you go into a store like that and you are just looking around with the intention to notice such things, they really ARE everywhere.
But more importantly, How cute is this kid?
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
The kind of snow I love
It snowed last night and until about 8pm tonight.
It snowed 2-3 times more than it did last week when the entire state was shut down... But nothing was shut down. The commute home was a little messy. But JB got to "hunt" plows- which is what we call it when he scans the roads and shouts, "PLOW" every time he sees one; and when he stops and asks, "What's that noise?" after he hears anything in the distance that could be even remotely compared to a plow.
This is the kind of snow I love- fluffy, light, but with snowball/sticky properties. The kind that sticks to every branch of the trees; winter-wonderland-esque. Truly beautiful and amazing- the kind of snow that makes you want to take your kid sledding- if he weren't afraid and crying anytime he accidentally touches the stuff...
In a related story, our driveway is HUGE! 9 inches of fluffy-sticky snow is (well let's just leave it at) a lot! I was out there for 2 hours and the "heartbreak" (that's what we call the chunky, heavy snow excrement that the plows dump where the driveway meets the road) nearly killed me. For the last 15 minutes, the only think that kept me from leaving a snow barricade at the end of the driveway was hearing myself shout, "LAST CHANCE WORKOUT" every few minutes as if Jillian Michaels was telling me I couldn't give up and go in...
I was not impressed with the neighbors... 2 guys out with their snow blowers took 20 minutes of their lives to clean up their driveways while I was almost dying- approaching the 90 minute mark with my shovel. There was no offer of assistance with the heavy snow... Maybe they didn't see me. Or they thought I had a snow blower since I was throwing the snow so high and so expertly. Or they didn't hear me grunting and sniffling (possibly over the sound of their own whistling).
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Words to live by
My friend- Laurie's dad died a year ago today.
She shared with me an email she sent to her siblings this morning asking them to join her in visiting memories of their dad and the things they learned from him.
Here's her list:
- Always root for the underdog, “Go Saints!”
- Be proud of driving an old car
- Dress conservatively while you act radically
- Make a contribution to the world
- Change the world for the better
- Believe in science
- Human beings are flawed but we still love them
- Strive to find out what makes people “tick”
It touched me, this list.
Each are things I want to teach my kids.
Each are things I'm proud to have been taught along the way.
RIP, Wagner - still touching the lives of people that never even met you.
She shared with me an email she sent to her siblings this morning asking them to join her in visiting memories of their dad and the things they learned from him.
Here's her list:
- Always root for the underdog, “Go Saints!”
- Be proud of driving an old car
- Dress conservatively while you act radically
- Make a contribution to the world
- Change the world for the better
- Believe in science
- Human beings are flawed but we still love them
- Strive to find out what makes people “tick”
It touched me, this list.
Each are things I want to teach my kids.
Each are things I'm proud to have been taught along the way.
RIP, Wagner - still touching the lives of people that never even met you.
Saturday, February 06, 2010
Constantly entertained by big brother
ML loves watching JB.
And sometimes JB will perform for him too.
And sometimes JB will perform for him too.
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