Birthday Party!

Saturday we had Sam's 4th Birthday Party. His birthday fell on Monday the 24th.
We had 8 children under 5, plus a baby girl - I guess that's 9.
We also had a Spiderman pinata, and that was a big hit.
It was chaotic at times, but everyone had fun, and the meltdowns were brief and controlled.

The cake was home made by yours truly to go with the Spiderman theme - red velvet cake with blue frosting (not just any frosting - this was cream cheese, mascarpone cheese, and whipped cream). The whole cake was devoured...which is good news, because as of today, I am officially off the Sugar Train.

While tearing open gifts, Sam screamed, "This is the best birthday EVER!"
So even if he's only had four of them, I'll still take it.

This summer is gonna suck

This post will be a whining rant. You've been warned.

Aside from the obvious difficulties that come with having our house on the market and trying to purchase another house at the same time, a new and much more aggravating issue has surfaced: Tim's department has gone to a compressed workweek for summer (four 10-hour shifts). While this kind of schedule would be ideal for many, many people in many situations, including me at some earlier point in life, and save energy and gas in many situations, it really stinks when you both work at the same institution and you have a child in preschool at same institution's campus.

Oh, you know I'll explain:

Tim's summer schedule will be 7am-5pm Sunday, Monday, Tuesday Wednesday. This means he has to be on campus for uniform and shift briefing by 6:30. This means he leaves the house at 5:50am to drive the 30 miles between.

Now, my supervisor and many of my responsibilities are generally flexible, and I probably could work out something out-of-the-box to coordinate with Tim's schedule and travel with him, but that's not the problem. The problem is pre-school. They won't be open Sunday, or even at 6:30am the other days, and even if I could have him there at that time, do I really want him there 10.5 hours!? No. No. No.

Next issue is days off - because I'm 11 month, I take a bunch of days off during the summer (I'm not paid for them). I took Sam out of daycare on Fridays for most of the summer because I was required to decide the summer schedule for him like 17 years prior, before any of this went down. Now, normally, if I need to take a day off during the week and not have Sam with me, it works well because Tim will bring him in at the start of his shift, and then pick him up at the end of his day (the normal 8 hour shift). With this new arrangement, we can't do this. If I need to be on my own for the day, like to go to the vagina doctor or something, I would have to make an hour round-trip drop off to campus in the morning, and hope that Tim won't get caught on overtime so I don't have to pick him up again too.

Of course, these are the secondary issues. Now, with this new schedule, Tim and I will be commuting to Delhi and back at least 9 times per week, totaling at least 540miles per week between the 2 of us. That will add up to nearly 6,500 miles over just 12 weeks. We only have 1 efficient vehicle, the other is a truck. I suppose we are fortunate to have 2 vehicles - can any working family get by with less these days? Ugh, that's another post entirely. So happy to be super-supporting the oil companies this summer (EFF you ALL), as we're going to be pretty much doubling our commuting costs.

Marker tip

Look at the awesome markers Uncle Alex gave Sammy!

It's nice to see something beyond one creepy standard 'flesh tone'.

Colors of My Friends - Nice!

Provoked

The sitch: The friend I never met recently posted about becoming engaged in a Facebook 'debate' about stay-at-home-moms, (SAHMs), and it seems that it all frustrated her enough to write about it on her blog. Though not every detail applies to me, I liked what she had to say, and pretty much agreed with her. So I commented on her post. I checked the post later on, and one of the subsequent comments really ticked me off. Hugely.


Responding may have sparked a heated debate on my friend's turf, with someone who is probably her friend as well, and would have been rude and inappropriate. So I didn't take the bait - but man, it was bugging me. I soon realized, however, that I can completely shred this comment apart here on my own plot of turf, and feel much, much better. I've been provoked, gentle readers, and I'm going for the jugular.


The disclaimer: I aim to criticize the comment and the attitude it represents, not the commenter herself. I don't know her personally and I suspect we have a mutual friend. I don't know this person's life, her politics, or really, anything about her. What I do know, however, is that the attitude that appears to be the subtext of the comment is incredibly classist, sexist, with a river of judgment flowing right through it. Regardless of how it was possibly meant, it spitefully calls into question the relationship that working mothers and fathers have with their children, and I cannot let it go, because as a view popular with some SAHMs, it needs to be challenged.

I am inspired by the way Kate Harding & friends dissect through the disgusting attitudes they retrieve allover the media. I'm following their lead and will quote, comment, quote, comment, and I can only hope to present a shred of the wit and brilliance they do.

And now, the full comment of honor:


"Great posting. I don’t read this things often because of time constraints, however, it is such a shame that women fight about this at all. I have done both in my life as a professional and a mother. For me, staying home with my kids is better because I feel that they are only young once, and I don’t want to miss out on ANYTHING! I think it’s great to have a balance though and I love part-time work! Then we can somehow make it all work. What I think is horrible is women that have babies just because..and then have day care or a nanny raise them. Whatever; to each her own.
Stay at home Moms are incredible and so self-sacrificing. I am surely on the other side of your comments; Much rather be with my kids than not. Good for you for standing by your convictions"


"I don’t read this things often because of time
constraints, however, it is such a shame that women fight about this at all."

It is a shame, indeed. What's also interesting, however, is the rest of the post is literally picking that very fight...even a bit of a sucker punch, really. Let's read on:

"I have done both in my life as a professional and a mother."

This is just grammatically confusing, but I think the message is one of two possibilities: a) she was a professional and a mother, but not at the same time, or b) she has been a working mother and a stay at home mother. It would be nice to know which one is correct because the latter might give her position slightly more weight. Slightly.

For me, staying home with my kids is better because I feel
that they are only young once, and I don’t want to miss out on ANYTHING! I think it’s great to have a balance though and I
love part-time work!"

Um, I hate to get all 'logical' here, but if part-time work is involved, then something will undoubtedly go unseen and unappreciated by mom -but really, that is not my biggest gripe here. If you are unsure as to what it might be, I'll just lift it out for emphasis:

"...they are only young once, and I don't want to miss
out on ANYTHING!"

Whoa, wait - what did you just say?? They're only young once?! Oh, crap! I must have forgotten to note that in my planner, because I'm such a busy career woman. Aw, shucks. Well, actually, I kinda do want to miss out on most stuff because my kids are just a nuisance to me and make me late for work, and clearly, I need my salary to buy more diamonds.
Yes, that's right. Working mothers (and fathers as well) all sign up for work over their kids because they don't realize and/or care that the kids grow up, and they don't care much about missing shit. We're a heartless, greedy bunch.
But wait! If SAHMs don't want to miss ANYTHING, they must be planning to home school as well, because (and here's all that damn LOGIC again) that's the only way you can almost not miss ANYTHING before they grow up. Or am I not aware of the magical age when it's suddenly ok to have someone be involved in raising your kid? Maybe it's not the magical age, but the magical number...public school is free. Hmm.

But, let's move on:

"What I think is horrible is women that have babies
just because..and then have day care or a nanny raise them. Whatever; to each her own."

I had a baby just because: a) I wanted to and b) my husband wanted to and c) we were ready to love a child, and of course, lest I forget, d) we wanted to make sure the daycare industry didn't crumble. Dammit! Got me again! I only wanted to have babies Just Because, and figured I'd have someone else raise them so I can keep a roof over our buy diamonds. I often calculate how many more diamonds and diamond encrusted clutch purses I could have purchased with the salary I lost during my maternity leave. Because, you know, my income is earmarked solely for the small luxuries in life.

"Stay at home Moms are incredible and so self-sacrificing. I am surely on the other side of your comments; Much rather be with my kids than not"

Sheesh, I'm glad somebody out there is self-sacrificing, cause we sure the hell are too busy writing checks to daycare and hobnobbing in our glamorous professional circles to even think about how to creatively increase our kid's protein intake and support his amazing verbal and emotional skills, all while working full time and getting dinner on the table by 6pm and playing, talking, and reading with him every single night and listening for the dryer buzzer to go off so we can get tomorrow's clothes folded before we have to leave for work before 7am so we can save for college start looking into buying loose emeralds as well.

I mean, the truth is, we'd definitely rather not be with our son...then we'd be much more productive, all around.

~

OK, no more sarcasm. Or was that not enough? I want to share my story. You may (or may not) remember that I hit a point during Sam's infancy where I thought I wanted to be a SAHM. I had a hell of a time with PPD and nursing, never slept, and the idea of working ever again seemed like a joke. Nevertheless, I had been incredibly fortunate to arrange a maternity leave that was nearly triple the average, and later arranged to be half-time for another year. Again, fortunate that we have good, steady jobs with good benefits and some flexibility, and fortunate that we even could swing things with only half my salary coming in.

Our situation was nothing like the reality out there for working parents. And, because I'm not (strive not to be - it's lifelong work) classist, I realize this, and think about it. A lot.

While I don't have regrets, and still feel that the extra time was beneficial in every way to my son, shit got tight. We were stretched thin, even with my husband having a second job at the time, and by the year's end, it was becoming stressful, and that's not good for anyone. Besides that, I admit that some days with my son were more stressful than any job I'd ever had. Of course we were active, and I did all the developmental things, and we had a great time, of course we did, but at the end of the day, I just wanted to hand him over to my husband, for at least a couple of hours.

Luckily, I was able to go back full-time (or is it luck? You see, I have most of the big class privileges working for me - I'm well educated, white, married, able bodied, over 30 but under 50, and considered moderately attractive - I win. It sucks. But, it's how it is.) I did have fears about going back full time: would my son's development regress? would our relationship weaken? would he not feel as loved and nurtured by me?

It has been nearly a year since I've been back full time, and none of my fears have come true. In fact, my son is just flourishing at pre-school, and our time together at home, in the evenings is totally focused on him. We're all happier and less stressed, and I feel like I have more capacity for love and nurturing than I had when we were home.

If you want to be home with your kids and you're PRIVILEGED enough to be able to do what you want for yourself and your kids, then that's wonderful. Understand, appreciate, and don't underestimate your privilege.

If you want to work 'just because' you want to, but you don't need to, then the world should know that you adore, sacrifice for, and love your children just as much as any mother or father.

If you want to be home with your kids, but you aren't privileged enough to do so, then the world should know that you adore, sacrifice for, and love your children just as much as any mother or father.

If you need to work to support your family, and you want to work as well, then the world should know that you adore, sacrifice for, and love your children just as much as any mother or father.

Surely, there are exceptions, and the world can undoubtedly be an evil place, but speaking from my experience, my knowledge base, and my ever-expanding heart, working mothers and fathers are overwhelmingly self-sacrificing, would rather be with their children and they don't want to miss anything. We all make it work.

Suck it.

Modeling clay

Yo, I'm on some kind of blog roll. Enjoy it, it won't last.

Sam's fever is still not totally gone, so he stayed home today. With me. Not alone, like usual.

We were goofing around and we (well, after a bit, it was mostly just me...he became bored and stacked plastic cups instead) made this cool tree, resembling the one on the Sargent Art Modeling Clay box.

It's not very steady, but it looks cool, right?


Since he's been ill, he has taken an unexpected nap over the weekend (he's almost given them up entirely), so I thought today we might try. He wasn't into the idea so I suggested he have quiet time in his pop-up tent (a gift from Aunt Allison). After about half an hour, I figured he was out. I took this picture and heard, "Mom? Did you just take a picture of me?"

"Uh, no Sam, I took a picture of the hallway." (cause you know, I take hallway photos once a week)

"That really was facing me though."

"Uh-huh..."

"Wasn't that facing me?"

"Yes, I guess it was. Sorry about that"

"It's ok...A-choo! (a real sneeze)"

...

"Mom?"

Sigh. "Yes?"

"You forgot to say bless you."

"I'm sorry, Sam. Bless you!"

And I wait for the nap...

Boring and the tooth

This past weekend was really a snoozer. On Saturday we went to the "Grand & Glorious" garage sale they have on Main Street every year. It was neither. Sam found some classic green toy soldiers. We picked up a baggie of them for $2. He enjoyed watching the band play, and we had Subway for lunch. On Sunday we sort of just laid around and did nothing. It's always a little disturbing to me when my weekend is so boring I kind of look forward to work...but that's a topic for another time. One highlight, however, was a hilarious game of hide-and-seek. Sam understands the goal now, but he's too chicken to hide or seek by himself, so we take turns teaming up with him. He gets so excited, he squeals, giggles, and his heart races while we're hiding, and he also won't stop whispering, which totally gives us away...but it's so funny. Really, truly, funny.

Sunday night I discovered that one of my fillings is breaking apart, and it's kinda tender, and it looks like a cavity may have formed in and around the crack. I called the dentist's office this morning, fully expecting that they'd fit me in. Instead, I got Ms. Crabby VonCrankybitch on what sounded like a very bad day for her. She insisted that I'd need to wait a month. I actually had to say, "Um, do I need to find a new dentist? This is kind of urgent, I can't wait a month!" This yielded a reluctant offer to fit me in for a cleaning slot tomorrow, where the dentist would exam me at the end anyway. I took it, since I'm overdue for a cleaning, but I plan to whine to the dentist and ask him to fix it. Even if I have to wait around a bit. Even if I have bat my eyelashes at him and make a pitiful face. Even if I have to show him a boobie.

He's a really nice dentist, actually, and we like him, which is the only reason I haven't tried to find a new one yet, because let me tell ya, Ms. VonCrankybitch and her grumpy office staff have never been courteous to us. Ever.

Don't think I'm just being a waaa - the tooth in question is almost entirely made of resin filling because it was really bad before. A crack in this thing means essentially that my entire 'tooth' is deteriorating and needs some patching up. Stat. I don't want to wait until it becomes unbearably painful, or worse, I crunch on a chunk of it with a mouthful of Cheerios. Great, I'm sure I'm gonna have an awesome dream about teeth tonight. Shudder.

I asked him to pose for this one (above), after he found the soldiers, and he pulled this odd 'looking into the distance' winged pose. He totally poses for pictures now, and gets what they're all about, but judging by his recent 'deep' strikes, I may have a budding artsy kid on my hands...or Ringo Star:

Yogurt is sexist.

What is it about women and yogurt, or more specifically, yogurt commercials targeted at women?

Have you noticed that most of these TV ads feature young-ish, attractive women eating yogurt with such giddy, childish joy, you'd think they were toddlers spooning ice cream. Watch the next one you see carefully - it's nauseating.

If they're not laughing and dancing about how wonderful their yogurt-filled life is, or talking about how yogurt is just every bit as as good as cheesecake, or subtly reminding you that pooping regularly is hot:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CxASvaM7kHQ
--My fave part is the woman 'tiger' pawing at the yogurt.


Then they are having a moronic conversation comparing yogurt to life events typically associated with women. Surely you remember this one:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Emp_CtPy1Gw
--And who eats yogurt after a wedding reception?

Currently the worst one of all, this woman downs a supposedly decadent (but not fattening!) Dannon Light yogurt in a supermarket and then gives a grossly, sexually 'naughty' look. Sorry, but this woman makes me want to call Chris Hansen, not buy yogurt:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dftDBFwY2Lk

I found lots of other women that are annoyed by this as well. Here's a hilarious little video to sum it all up, and she makes a similar point about the wedding:

http://current.com/items/88941392_sarah-haskins-in-target-women-yogurt-edition.htm

The second most targeted group seems to be kids. Are there any yogurts targeted to men? I don't know of any. Just women and children. I think there's an untapped market of constipated, bloated men out there looking to indulge in a guilt-free treat.

Let's come up with some awesome manly names for yogurt marketed to men...post away.

Rhode Island, we'll be back

Left Wednesday morning. Rolled in about 2pm. Checked in. Checked out downtown Narragansett and walked a little on the town's beach (Narragansett Towers in the background) and watched the hardcore surfers, still out as dusk approached.

Found a spot to eat, but the Food Network was taping there! What are the odds? The place is Crazy Burger, and they'll be featured on Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives, or as I like to call it when I can't remember the full title, Dumpsters and Diving. They told us it would be at least a 45 minute wait. We could see the host, Guy Fieri, in the window. Man, he looks like a total DLR in person as well, but still, kind of a cool thing to come across. Took a picture of the sign they had out front as evidence of previously described cool thing, but due to the hungry and tired toddler accompanying us, decided to come back the following night. Settled on a solid surf & turf place on the waterfront and it worked out quite nicely.


Thursday was the full beach day. There are gazillions of beaches to choose from in Rhode Island, all within a few minutes' drive from everywhere, so we did a little research and asking around to narrow things down. We went for East Matunuck state beach, and it was great: pretty and uncrowded.


Friday morning was another beach day, but we tried Scarborough State Beach instead. It was a bit bigger and more crowded, but even prettier than EM beach. The rain had us packing up by noon that day.

That same afternoon we went over the bridge (pictured in the previous post) to Newport. The rain was light, so we were able to do a small part of the Cliff-walk (in total, one can see 63 properties, including "The Breakers" (where we were, below) and other famous Newport mansions), and explored the historic waterfront, which although crowded, was quaint, well-preserved, and super New Englandish. We had dinner down there, and enjoyed watching a blingy yacht and an older, handsome sailboat dock just feet away.

By Saturday we were just tired. We were planning to take the ferry to Block Island, but we were also eager to get home. We had a big breakfast and decided to just head back. Of course, Saturday's weather was gorgeous, and would have been a great beach or ferry day. We're thinking of renting a house near the beach next summer, and checking out Providence and Block Island at a more leisurely pace...overall, however, we give this quick Rhode Island getaway 6 thumbs up!

Backyard, Bed, and Batman

We went to Ikea in Paramus on Thursday, and found a few great items, including Sam's new "big boy" bed frame and mattress. It's a full size twin mattress that sits on flexible slats, resting in a modern bed frame.

A few weeks back I found retro-print Batman & Robin sheets at Pottery Barn Kids. Of course I wanted to barf about buying my 3 year old's sheets at Pottery Barn, but, here's the thing: character sheets anywhere else (like Walmart) are rough, tacky, and fade quickly (cheap crap) at least in my experience. These are soft, good quality, and they're just so awesome...I mean, 60's Batman! How cool is that?? I thought they were fitting for his transition, and well worth the few extra bucks ($60 for twin set - I know you were wondering).

As evidenced by these photos, Sam LOVES his new bed:



The playset is finally done...there's some extra gravel to be cleaned up (did I ever tell you that in our house, every project gets 92-98.7% done, but never finished?). The most important thing is that Sam has a great time on it (during the 3 minutes a week when it's not raining, of course).

We picked up a smallish (but cool) acacia wood table at Ikea as well, and added inexpensive mesh chairs from Lowe's. The whole thing is "light" but, after all the projects around here, heavy duty patio furniture is neither a priority, or in the budget. This will do for at least a few summers:

Finally, and update on the grill (pictured to the right of the table). Weber sent us a bunch of replacement parts at no charge, without hassle. We just had to send them some photos and a description of what happened. It's great of them, but it's also a little worrisome, as if they kind of expect these kinds of things to happen. Ah well, at least we'll have a working grill again!

Just some cute

This past week Sam showed renewed interest in his Superman pajamas, or as he used to call them, his jamanas. I'm already missing sweet things he used to say when he was younger, and he's only 2.

These jamanas are really more for summer and I felt it was too chilly to let him wear just one layer all day. I convinced him that they looked totally cool over pajamas and regular clothes. He didn't seem to mind. He is beginning to grasp the concept of cool. He's been watching this cartoon called Caillou, about a four year old boy. Caillou daydreamed he was in a rock band (a preschool rockband if you can get down with that). I said, "Wow! Caillou is a rock star, that's so silly!" and Sam said, "No, that is not silly, it's cooool!"

I worry about the day he'll realize that his mother is tragically uncool, and has been for at least a decade.





Since the weather sucks, we've been having some very active days at home. He's getting more creative with the sofa pillows: Climbing the mountain (and grunting and groaning as he pretends to strain...where does he pick this stuff up?), building houses (and jails for his toys), and good ol running and hurling himself into the pile. It's fun for me too.



He's still all about the sink though. In fact, the day I took this picture, he had been frustrated about something or other, cranky from his nap, and when I told him he was not having cookies for snack, he just lost it. I asked him what would make him feel better, and he immediately said, "The sink. I want to play at the sink."

He had to walk there

Yesterday morning my mom and I visited my Aunt, who just lost her sister on Thanksgiving, and her husband on Monday morning. It has been a rough week for my family and especially for her. Anyway, I was reluctant to bring Sam , but my husband and my mom thought that it would be ok, and thought that people would be happy to see him. So I brought him. And they were right.
On our way to my Aunt's house I explained to Sam, "Aunt Josephine is going to be sad, she's going to be crying, so if you want to, you can give her a hug." He didn't say much, and our visit was quiet and uneventful. He looked at her a lot, but was generally shy.

On our drive back home last night, as we do at some point each day, we recapped the morning's events. This was part of our conversation:

Me:
And after Zizi Josephine's, where did we go?

Sam:
To see the train - Zee Jofeen was crying. Why she was crying?

Me:
Because she was sad.

Sam:
Why is she sad?

Me:
Um. Well because she misses someone.

Sam:
Who she misses?

Me:
She misses Uncle Joe, she misses him a lot.

Sam:
Where he go?

Me:
Well, he had to go far away.

Sam:
Where he go far away?

Me:
To a special place.

Sam:
How did he get there? Who drive him?

Me:
He didn't drive there.

Sam:
He had to walk there.

Me:
Yes, he's resting there now, at the special place.

Sam:
He is walking around there.

Me:
Yes, he's walking around.

Sam:
When he coming back?

Me:
He's not coming back, he has to stay there. That's why Zizi Josephine misses him. He's very far away.

Sam:
He is far away, walking around there.

Me:
Yes, but he is happy and soon Zizi Josephine won't be too sad anymore and she'll feel better.

Sam:
She won't be sad.


That's about the best I could do in talking about death with a two year old. I think he did better than I did.

Sunday in the sink

One of Sam's favorite pastimes is playing at the kitchen sink. I run a super thin stream of water, then we select a variety of 'guys' and cups to use. He pushes a chair over to the counter and gets busy.

He fills up the cups and dumps them, bathes the toys, and so on, all the while giving me a running narrative of his work between snippets of conversations with the 'guys.'

He keeps it all contained to the sink area fairly well for a 2 year old, I think...leaving just some minor puddling around the edge and under the chair. I can't complain, it keeps him entertained for at least half an hour...in fact, that is how I was able to draft this entry. Plus it's totally educational, right?

Last week, Sam got into Tim's closet (it's an irresistible disaster). He found these weird laser- light blocking freak simmunition goggles. Simmunition as in simulated ammunition, I believe. It's dorky police training jargon. Anyway, if you ask me, they look more like those big crazy sunglasses really old people wear to drive. Here's Sam, ready to take off at an unreasonably slow speed in his Buick LeSabre:

He soon realized he wasn't getting anywhere fast, so the next morning he went back in and found our bicycle helmets:

Update: after I published this, Tim notified me that the fancy eye gear is actually just a pair of welding goggles. I didn't make up the simmunitions bit - Tim does do that, but apparently you don't need special glasses to do it. What do I know? I've never welded or used simulated ammunition. I've seen my dad weld, but he uses one of those creepy spacey looking helmet things that lifts up on a hinge. When I noticed that these goggles were super dark and blocked out everything, I assumed they were to be used with fancy lasers. I guess I'm just ahead of my time.

It's your turn

Of course children pay attention more than we realize. Of course they understand and remember more than we'd like them to sometimes. Of course we don't really think about all this too much until a child (and usually your own) says something to remind you of their amazing little sponge brains.

Every evening, after dinner, we try to sneak in a few minutes of CNN between Legos and running around the house 'hiding' and playing with Sammy. We've been news junkies since the primaries, really. Fast forward to last night - we just picked up a copy of Disney Pixar's "A Bug's Life" (used from Ebay, cheap!) and Sam wanted to watch it for a second time. He really enjoys it, and I think it's fine. We watched most of it together, and toward the end, Sam turned to us and said, "Now it's your turn, Mommy and Daddy." Puzzled, we asked what it was our turn to do. Without missing a beat, Sam replied, "It's your turn to watch - to watch CNN!"

Another sweet Sammy moment: I recorded It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown! a few nights ago. He is watching it as I type. A couple of minutes ago, I heard him say, "He's crying" and I looked up at the part where Schroeder is playing sad piano for Snoopy (the flying ace), who sniffles and wails. I looked back at Sam and he was crying too! I comforted him, but I couldn't help but smile, it was just the cutest thing.

It's all gas

Tonight after dinner we sat on the couch for a bit. Tim was playing on the laptop, I was kind of zoned out (the genius must have rest periods), and Sam was climbing on us, around us, and rolling back onto the floor. He let out a sudden, loud and rather deep sounding burp for a toddler. We all giggled and he pointed to his mouth and said, "That was a toot in my mouth!"

Phall Photos

This title just looks more interesting than Fall Fotos. Oh, you know it does. It's more balanced - Ph balanced that is. Don't be jealous of my genius.

Sam is having phun painting pumpkins and lauphing in the pholiage. See?

Now I'm pheeling itchy and pinchy from playing in the leaves with him. Tim just read this and didn't phind it phunny. Then again, I phorgot that he doesn't get it. What a phool. Married to a phreak. It's heaven on earth, pholks.

Ok, I'm shutting this disaster down. Will post more in a couple days.

Parade Smart

Today we went to Oneonta's Centennial parade. We didn't have a serious interest in going, but figured Sam might enjoy watching, and he really did! He waved to everyone and shook his little booty to the marching band music. He was thrilled when the participants threw candy out to the crowd, and he collected a small bounty of lollipops and Tootsie Rolls in his sweatshirt pocket. He hasn't experienced much in the candy world, so he wasn't bent on eating it. We let him have 2 bite size Milky Ways, and he willingly handed his lollipops over to us - actually he made a little game out of it: He would take a lollipop out, examine it, and decide, "This one is yours, Daddy." or, "This one is for YOU, mommy."

Sam was amazed at the horses. I like horses myself, I think they're beautiful. I don't know much about them though, in fact, I believe the last time I was on a horse was during a 6th grade school trip to Rocking Horse Ranch...that was 22 years ago. Yikes! Anyway, as they passed, Tim pointed out, "You saw the bags on the back of those horses?" He had that certain tone I have come to understand is part matter-of-fact and part about-to-mock-you. There's no way to win, so I looked for these 'bags' that he was talking about. And of course I spotted them - big black bags slung directly under the horses' butts, partially covered by their tails. Poop catchers. To myself, I thought, "Ew! Genius! Ew. So they won't poop on the street!" I planned to turn back toward him all nonchalant, like, "Um, yea, SO? I know what those are. Duh." but he was grinning at me - my eyes had already given my epiphany away.

How not to make little cupcakes.

I'm a decent cook, but I'm no baker. I hope to pass on my terrible baking skills to my child(ren).

The rain kept us inside today, so I needed a fun project to keep Sam entertained. I suggested cupcakes, and he started dragging a chair to the counter right away.

He was so cute with the stirring (and the dripping and the spilling) that I had to take some pictures.

I let him stir the ingredients and every couple of minutes I gave the batter a shot with the hand mixer. He pulled the trigger on it while it was sitting next to the bowl, and we got batter-spray everywhere. I'll be finding chocolate batter splatters for weeks.

Apparently we over filled the mini muffin pans, as you can see from the oven shot. If I were a skilled baker, I would have known to not over fill. Actually, a little voice of realization told me not to overfill about halfway through, but we were having so much fun, and there was a lot of batter.

Mini cupcakes are supposed to be cute. These are pretty darn ugly.

He ate one before his nap, and went to sleep excited to tell his daddy all about making cupcakes later on.



Changing gears: I'm pleased that McCain has decided to show up tonight. If that wasn't a totally lame distraction, I don't know what is. I guess he's trying to prove that he's 'Country First' or something, except it's pretty self-centered to presume that our country and our government can't operate properly for 36 hours without him being in the same room...

Debate Party at my house tonight. There will be plenty of ugly cupcakes.

M & M Training

I'm still suffering from a wit-block, so this will be more of a general account than a fun story.

A few items of note for today:

We have a new laptop. It's a SONY Vaio, but not the models with the battery recall. We had a VAIO desktop for years and were pleased with it. It's not my coveted airbook, I know, but it's white and sleek and fab. We got an exceptional deal on Ebay, much better than any sale we found.

With the renovations and my budget woes, the laptop might seem like a totally frivolous purchase, but we were thinking about it for a while: We have a traditional upstairs/downstairs layout, and our desktop is upstairs in the 'office.' When I'm home with Sam all day, I have to drag him upstairs with me, away from his play area, to do any work on the computer...not that he actually lets me focus on anything because he wants to be back downstairs playing. I can't blame him. We also risk waking Tim when we're up there (he works night shift 3/5 nights). With a laptop, Tim or I can do work while we're in the main area of the house and can give Sam full attention. With a master's thesis looming in December, and the extra work I've picked up, it has been frustrating to have to wait until Sam was in bed to get anything done. I have every confidence the laptop will help. Not only that, but now, after he goes to bed, I don't have to choose between obsessively watching Election Center on CNN and going upstairs to work on the computer. Yay for split focus.

Regardless of how much it can be justified, I will still feel guilty and frivolous about the purchase for weeks to come. That's just one of my issues. I can spend a shameful sum on a pair of shoes and not blink once, but on anything else, I'm suddenly a thrift queen. I have reigned in my shoe addiction, by the way.

Sam is in Potty Training. It's not a do or die situation yet, but we try for small triumphs every day. I don't want him to stress out about it (see Before The Storm entry). I'm totally copying what the mom from Jon & Kate + 8 does: an M & M reward system, specifically 1 for pee and 2 for poop. The only problem is that it's more like: 1 for pee, 2 for poop, and 26 for mom. I need to train myself OFF the M & Ms.

Today we went to the Fly Creek Cider Mill outside of Cooperstown. We met up with my friends Allison, Angie, and Beth. I was glad to hang out for a little bit. Sam had a blast checking everything out, especially the 'tractorland' play area. It was really crowded, so my initial excitement about picking up cheese and apples and cider wore off pretty quickly. It's like every time I go somewhere, there's a short honeymoon period where I forget how cumbersome it can be to have a toddler with you. Don't get me wrong, I wanted to go especially for Sam - it's just that some days feel more choresome than others. Is choresome even a word??

The Fly Creek Cider Mill runs a local commercial with an awful, folksy grate-on-your-nerves tune that goes: Apples and Cider, Apples and Cider, Apples and Cider at the Fly Creek Cider Mill. At the Fly Creek Cider Mill. Of course it was stuck in my head for days, but Sam broke up the monotony by saying, Apples and Spiders, Apples and Spiders. We changed the lyrics for a day or two, but now he knows it's really Cider.

The Word on The Street

Sam adores Sesame Street. It's the only TV he watches regularly, and I don't mind at all. Most would agree that it's a classic and it continues changing to fit the times. Sometimes I find myself entranced in parts of it with him...I'm not ashamed to admit it.
Before the opening song, there's a segment called "The Word on The Street" where they unveil a new word (and its definition) that will be used throughout the show. A few days ago, the word was predicament.

Tuesday morning, we found out just how attentive Sam is to Sesame Street. He and Tim had watched this particular recorded episode the evening before. As I entered the kitchen, Tim said to Sam, "Do you remember what predicament means?" and Sam adjusted himself in his booster, scrunched his face up, and said in a very serious tone, "Iss like a big, big problem."
I asked him what a problem is, and he said, "Uhmmm.....hmmph" followed by, "Can I have wafoos?" That's waffles to you and me.

He's up from his nap - gotta go! This week is hectic, but I hope to post more by the weekend.

Organic Guilt

Without going into an examination of the benefits of organics, or its market explosion of the past five years or so, I will reveal that I have been buying organic products (food and cosmetics and household cleaners) on and off since about 1994, making me feel a little bit more qualified than mainstream consumers to whine about the topic.
In college it seemed sort of like a postmodern hippie thing to do, an elitist little secret. Buying handmade soap felt as anti-establishment as getting a tattoo, or at least as anti-establishment as you can get for a state college student in the mid-nineties - occasionally shopping at the local health food store in a thick coat of L'oreal Raisin Rage lipstick and a credit card. It all made sense, didn't it? OK, so that's my back story.
Today if I choose organics, it's in a more purposeful and planned way, taking price and practicality into careful consideration. I'd love to buy 100% organic, sustainable, fair trade all the time, but it's just not financially realistic (I hear a huge uh-huh out there). I mostly stick to the dirty dozen principle, some organic dairy, and natural bath products for Sam. Sorry, that was more back story.
Yesterday I stopped in the Green Earth (Oneonta's health food store) for a few specific items. The cashier gave me a free promotional magazine called, "Delicious Living". I had a chance to look at it this morning, and I realized that every page was yelling at me. Shrill, white, upper-middle class mom's voices rose from each page, condemning me.

--What? You don't buy raw vitamins??
--You don't supplement your child with DHA? His brain will shrivel!
--Non-organic milk is poisoning your family!
--All your produce is devoid of nutrients!

Alright, so these are not exact quotes, but they are pretty much the messages the mag was sending. I started over, from the Editor's page. The red-headed, simple-but-gorgeous Editor is pictured sitting lakeside on a rock (Colorado) wearing hikers and cargo pants, smiling smugly, suggesting,"I'm a natural mom. Why aren't you?" What a bitch.
The next article was something about Argan Oil in skin care. Dump out your olive oil everyone, this one has twice the vitamin E! If you don't use it, you'll look like Phyllis Diller by Tuesday. I also noticed that the photography was so totally blase. You can picture it pretty easily: small ceramic ramekins filled with creamy looking concoctions arranged on a neutral background. Think Clinique ads for the past 2 decades. Groundbreaking work, people.
As I leafed through the rest, it occurred to me that I hadn't seen one non-white woman, man or child...in the whole mag, including the ads. Hmm. Seems like a magazine with such principled values would make an attempt to be more inclusive. See? Snobby Bitches.
This stupid magazine bugged me for the rest of the morning, and I finally figured out why before I sat down to write. It made me feel guilty - on a couple of levels: the most obvious being that I'm somehow not providing enough for my child, or protecting him enough...whichever. On another level, I felt guilty for being a part of all this and paying attention to it, choosing an organic over a regular product - I do not identify with all of these women, and I don't want to be pegged as one....but I want to shop in the Green Earth sometimes. Maybe I'm having an identity crisis.