For a two-year-old boy, Thanks Aunt Kara.
http://www.amazon.com/D-Company-25415-Junior-Rocket/dp/B0006N6UQE/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=toys-and-games&qid=1222704854&sr=1-1
For a 28-year-old wife, Thanks Dave.
http://www.darlingmummy.com/order_mv_ss.htm
Monday, September 29, 2008
Sunday, September 14, 2008
3 months later
At the beginning of the summer, Rhianna's daycare asked us to submit a family photo. We finally got around to doing one this weekend.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
For new posts...
For now, I've been posting on thirdaddition.blogspot.com -- check it out if you're interested.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Auntie ME!
I'm officially aunt to a little girl!! She was 7lbs 8 oz., 20.5 inches, born at 12:09pm EST.
HOORAY!!! Congrats Kara!!
HOORAY!!! Congrats Kara!!
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Monday, June 09, 2008
On working motherhood
(reaction to: http://www.boston.com/bostonglobe/magazine/articles/2008/06/01/the_rest_of_us/?page=full)
It's still a social issue because it is still an issue for each woman who becomes a mother.
There is something intrinsic and unique about motherhood. Nothing can really compare with it. Though there certainly is societal pressure for women to be nurturing and maternal, there is also a more primal desire to care for your children. The conflict is, to me, that society pushes women to break the glass ceiling, fight to be top dog with the men, and other such measurements of a patriarchal society. I'm not saying I'm not in favor or equality by any means, but perhaps the gauge should be adjusted so as to reflect a more equal meter. Equality is not a two-dimensional state. If we are to be equal, we must be equal on many axes. (And, unfortunately, I'm not convinced that apples and oranges can every be truly equal as, in many ways, they are simply different beings -- but that's a whole different subject. Perhaps "equality" as we typically see it, is not the goal after all. Anyway...)
When women become mothers, they must learn quickly to use different measuring tools for a success. A successful day with a toddler is not measured by how often you "won" a particular game or how many points you scored (both very masculine and quantifiable ideas), but in how many conflicts you avoided and how quickly you came up with an alternative to divert your child's interest in clobbering the cat with his or her favorite bludgeon. There are great challenges to motherhood and parenting and the tools we are accustomed to using, even those so refined as the scientific method, simply don't apply to the ever-changing variables that are your children. There are no absolutes, no clear finish line, and no specific guidelines for success. For every theory on the "right" way to do any particular task, there is an opposing argument on how this method will send your children to counseling to repair the damage later in life. Further, one approach may work wonderfully with one child and be a total failure with the next --- thus making it very challenging to measure success and, thereby, lodge ourselves as mothers into the hierarchy of achievement as defined by our current society.
I found it ironic when the article contrasted "caring and selfless" to "aggressive and careerist." The women I know who have devoted themselves to being stay-at-home-mom are nothing if not aggressive. And those I consider most "successful" (and by that I mean, manage to keep sane and enjoy their choice to be a SAHM) are not selfless. The selfless ones are food for the wolves. They seem to loose themselves in post-pardum depression and confused identity -- in fact, I felt this way after my first child before I realized that a good mother had to start with a balance self. Though those toothless infants won't handle solid foods for a while after they burst out of a woman's womb, they can ravage mom's sense of self and purpose with the same innocence of a tornado blowing through a trailer park -- blissfully unaware of the damage and disruption it has caused by simply doing and being what nature intended. When women take stock after the natural phenomenon that is young motherhood, their ideals, measuring tools and interests often change. To push this metaphor to a ridiculous level, some realize that even the most well maintained, orderly, successful trailer parks are magnets for natural disaster, others see that trailers are cheap and easy to replace -- just materials that can be rebuilt to be different if not better. Some decide they would prefer a brick house or a maybe a tipi. The possibilities suddenly are overwhelming and now the perspective from which you see your life is drastically different. The normal and predictable weather patterns by which a woman lives and plans her life is replaced, with the addition of each child, by unpredictable, and often severe challenges. It is not our job as women to harness the wild as the masculine ideals would suggest. There is no maternal conquistador. Instead, just as women learn to adjust and live with other natural impositions we face (monthly and otherwise), a mother's job is to adjust to that which is ever-changing and to find balance.
For me, working part-time in my career is a great balance to motherhood. There are clear goals, there are clear successes and I need that balance in my own life. The energy I get off the measured success of my career fuels me for the unending challenges of parenthood. The long-term, intangible challenges I face as a mother motivate me to set clear, ambitious goals in other areas of my life. Within every person, male or female, there is a balance of masculine and feminine. If we are to gauge our success, it should be a perpetual meter of that balance within ourselves first, and those things that can be seen by the outside world should come a distant second. Some people (male or female) need more masculine tokens to balance their scale. They thrive on the measured success of "careerism." Others are balanced by feminine coins. And each person's balance meter changes over time and with different life experiences.
Of course, the trouble in all of this is that the tokens are weighted based on societal standards and given value so in the end, we aren't measured by the balance, but on the volume. Ugh.
Must now get back to work :)
It's still a social issue because it is still an issue for each woman who becomes a mother.
There is something intrinsic and unique about motherhood. Nothing can really compare with it. Though there certainly is societal pressure for women to be nurturing and maternal, there is also a more primal desire to care for your children. The conflict is, to me, that society pushes women to break the glass ceiling, fight to be top dog with the men, and other such measurements of a patriarchal society. I'm not saying I'm not in favor or equality by any means, but perhaps the gauge should be adjusted so as to reflect a more equal meter. Equality is not a two-dimensional state. If we are to be equal, we must be equal on many axes. (And, unfortunately, I'm not convinced that apples and oranges can every be truly equal as, in many ways, they are simply different beings -- but that's a whole different subject. Perhaps "equality" as we typically see it, is not the goal after all. Anyway...)
When women become mothers, they must learn quickly to use different measuring tools for a success. A successful day with a toddler is not measured by how often you "won" a particular game or how many points you scored (both very masculine and quantifiable ideas), but in how many conflicts you avoided and how quickly you came up with an alternative to divert your child's interest in clobbering the cat with his or her favorite bludgeon. There are great challenges to motherhood and parenting and the tools we are accustomed to using, even those so refined as the scientific method, simply don't apply to the ever-changing variables that are your children. There are no absolutes, no clear finish line, and no specific guidelines for success. For every theory on the "right" way to do any particular task, there is an opposing argument on how this method will send your children to counseling to repair the damage later in life. Further, one approach may work wonderfully with one child and be a total failure with the next --- thus making it very challenging to measure success and, thereby, lodge ourselves as mothers into the hierarchy of achievement as defined by our current society.
I found it ironic when the article contrasted "caring and selfless" to "aggressive and careerist." The women I know who have devoted themselves to being stay-at-home-mom are nothing if not aggressive. And those I consider most "successful" (and by that I mean, manage to keep sane and enjoy their choice to be a SAHM) are not selfless. The selfless ones are food for the wolves. They seem to loose themselves in post-pardum depression and confused identity -- in fact, I felt this way after my first child before I realized that a good mother had to start with a balance self. Though those toothless infants won't handle solid foods for a while after they burst out of a woman's womb, they can ravage mom's sense of self and purpose with the same innocence of a tornado blowing through a trailer park -- blissfully unaware of the damage and disruption it has caused by simply doing and being what nature intended. When women take stock after the natural phenomenon that is young motherhood, their ideals, measuring tools and interests often change. To push this metaphor to a ridiculous level, some realize that even the most well maintained, orderly, successful trailer parks are magnets for natural disaster, others see that trailers are cheap and easy to replace -- just materials that can be rebuilt to be different if not better. Some decide they would prefer a brick house or a maybe a tipi. The possibilities suddenly are overwhelming and now the perspective from which you see your life is drastically different. The normal and predictable weather patterns by which a woman lives and plans her life is replaced, with the addition of each child, by unpredictable, and often severe challenges. It is not our job as women to harness the wild as the masculine ideals would suggest. There is no maternal conquistador. Instead, just as women learn to adjust and live with other natural impositions we face (monthly and otherwise), a mother's job is to adjust to that which is ever-changing and to find balance.
For me, working part-time in my career is a great balance to motherhood. There are clear goals, there are clear successes and I need that balance in my own life. The energy I get off the measured success of my career fuels me for the unending challenges of parenthood. The long-term, intangible challenges I face as a mother motivate me to set clear, ambitious goals in other areas of my life. Within every person, male or female, there is a balance of masculine and feminine. If we are to gauge our success, it should be a perpetual meter of that balance within ourselves first, and those things that can be seen by the outside world should come a distant second. Some people (male or female) need more masculine tokens to balance their scale. They thrive on the measured success of "careerism." Others are balanced by feminine coins. And each person's balance meter changes over time and with different life experiences.
Of course, the trouble in all of this is that the tokens are weighted based on societal standards and given value so in the end, we aren't measured by the balance, but on the volume. Ugh.
Must now get back to work :)
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Birthday Party
Rhianna's third birthday turned out fairly well. There were about 6 kids including Rhianna and Owen which may have been just enough for her to feel like it was special. It wasn't quite as chaotic as last year but it was a little stressful because the weather was finicky. Nonetheless, she got to have cake and friends and that's really what birthdays are all about when you're three.
This might be my favorite picture of the kids to date. Check out those rockin' Elmo socks. Awesome ensemble if you ask me.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Birthday news
Rhianna and Owen had a great time at their friend Aidan's birthday party on Sunday. It was held at the local athletic club where they have tunnels and bouncers which was a blast for all in attendence.
This experience certainly set the bar high for Rhianna's upcoming birthday party. Saturday afternoon we will have a couple hours of frivolity in her honor. There will be friends, there will be cake, and there will (hopefully) be fewer tantrums than we've had this morning. Aside from actually setting a time and date for the event, I have made no plans. Hopefully it will come together soon!
This experience certainly set the bar high for Rhianna's upcoming birthday party. Saturday afternoon we will have a couple hours of frivolity in her honor. There will be friends, there will be cake, and there will (hopefully) be fewer tantrums than we've had this morning. Aside from actually setting a time and date for the event, I have made no plans. Hopefully it will come together soon!
Friday, May 23, 2008
Trauma in paradise
First stitches. Very traumatic. She was carrying some things down the stairs and tripped on the last one. When she landed, her lip had an unfortunate collision with the hardwood floor. She split her lip and has two stitches. It looks pretty good now but it was pretty puffy on Wednesday.
I now understand the whole "harder on Mom than on the kid" issue. I was fine getting her from incident to Urgent care, but when they started talking about scarring and lifted up her lip to show me the (healable but bloody) damage, it was heartwrenching. I'm certain that the most traumatic point for her was having the doc actually put in the stitched. I know she didn't agonize over whether she'd have an unsightly scar for eternity, but I sure did. Sheesh, this mothering thing is exhausting.
I now understand the whole "harder on Mom than on the kid" issue. I was fine getting her from incident to Urgent care, but when they started talking about scarring and lifted up her lip to show me the (healable but bloody) damage, it was heartwrenching. I'm certain that the most traumatic point for her was having the doc actually put in the stitched. I know she didn't agonize over whether she'd have an unsightly scar for eternity, but I sure did. Sheesh, this mothering thing is exhausting.
Friday, May 09, 2008
Monday, May 05, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Blog search
Today I came across the following. It's a great list of things to do with your (any-age-old) for sensory play.
http://www.mommypoppins.com/ny-kids/99-sensory-activities-for-any-child/#more-1004
http://www.mommypoppins.com/ny-kids/99-sensory-activities-for-any-child/#more-1004
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Graphic Ts
So there is much to update on in my life but today's post is a thought and inquiry. Graphic Ts are certainly "in" nowadays and, as a designer, I'm very much in favor of them. Many are have clever political stabs while others are just cool. Granted, there is the danger that us adults (or teens) might end up displaying some secret message on our new "cool" t -- having bought the shirt because we liked the design, unaware that hidden with the grunge image is the message "I want to cuddle with Bush" -- pun and all. My issue today about these clever little t-shirts for tots and under.
First, for the record, there are some awesome t's out there for kids. My personal faves are the "ab/cd" (throwback to ac/dc) and the iPoo'd (with the iPod wheel). Simple and to the point. However, there's another branch of these shirts I'm totally opposed to. "Spoiled princess" and such is absurd for obvious reasons. I recently saw the "my dad is cooler than your dad" shirt as well as some more.... political in nature. Now, I like the shirts that say something... well, funny, but somewhat irrelevant. Others are a projection of the parents' ideas and that seems somehow unfair to the kid. It's a fine line, but I'm trying to define it for myself. Sometimes I love 'em, sometimes I despise them. For example, I think a shirt that said "I love trouble" would be obnoxious, however, I think a shirt that said "Sorry." with an image of the old sorry-bubble-dice-thing would be freaking awesome.
Thoughts out there?
First, for the record, there are some awesome t's out there for kids. My personal faves are the "ab/cd" (throwback to ac/dc) and the iPoo'd (with the iPod wheel). Simple and to the point. However, there's another branch of these shirts I'm totally opposed to. "Spoiled princess" and such is absurd for obvious reasons. I recently saw the "my dad is cooler than your dad" shirt as well as some more.... political in nature. Now, I like the shirts that say something... well, funny, but somewhat irrelevant. Others are a projection of the parents' ideas and that seems somehow unfair to the kid. It's a fine line, but I'm trying to define it for myself. Sometimes I love 'em, sometimes I despise them. For example, I think a shirt that said "I love trouble" would be obnoxious, however, I think a shirt that said "Sorry." with an image of the old sorry-bubble-dice-thing would be freaking awesome.
Thoughts out there?
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
So we take Owen to daycare this morning and we talk with Julie for a little while and then Owen walks to the door of the bathroom and whispers "poo." Julie takes him in there and I, curious, go to see what's going on only to see a poop streak on the potty seat. Uh? I was like "did he just poop in the potty?!" He didn't, but he apparently likes to sit on the potty after he's pooped in his diaper. WTF? HE (as in BOY and supposed to be harder to potty train) is giving toilet cues at 16 mos?!? No. I am NOT ready nor willing to do this again. I feel like my whole life revolves around the potty.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Gender studies... Tot Style
At some point in every parent's life, (s)he is faced with the name game. Little Suzi or Tommy discovers her/his girl/boy parts and Mommy (or Daddy.... ok, I'm sick of being multi-gendered already in this post) has to decide what to call them. It seems like a simple thing. After all, why not just call them by their proper, anatomical names. I'll tell you why, because Suzi/Tommy will use these words freely (read: loudly) everywhere you go and having your two-and-a-half-year-old announcing to all of Target that her "gina is itchy" is, at best, awkward for whatever parent is pushing the cart.
My children really aren't old enough to truly appreciate their girl/boy parts, but my daughter has already learned the proper names for all her parts. How you ask? Where does every girl learn about the important things in life? Her girlfriends. That's right, my not-even-three-year-old daughter has a posse of other not-quite-three-year-old-girls and they, apparently, chit-chat about these things. Gender studies tot-style is mostly about look-what-you've-got and who else "matches" your parts. I'm not quite sure I was prepared for my toddler to come home and, while Rhianna watched me put on my bra she informed me that Sage's mommy has boobies too. Oh, and that she (Rhianna) has boobies but Owen doesn't. Now, don't get the wrong idea, Rhianna hasn't seen Sage's mommy naked, but she does know that, like Rhianna, Sage and her mommy are girls and therefore booby carriers.
Rhianna also learned the word "gina" (pronounced like vagina, just without the va) though we've tried to wean that out of her. Not because I disapprove of her using the word, but because she doesn't understand that her gina is only a part of her bottom. And it's more than a little disturbing to hear "my poopies are stuck in my gina." Enough said.
On the other side of the spectrum, we have Owen. Owen doesn't yet have (m)any useful, let alone anatomically correct, words. His vocabulary is, so far, limited to "no," "up," "uh-oh" and "e-i-e-i-o" (yes, I know, if he can sing e-i-e-i-o, you'd think he would communicate more essential things such as "hungry" or "hurt" but I guess it just doesn't work that way). Nonetheless, Owen has started what I understand will be a lifetime activity of exploring his man parts. Now, I understand that this is just part of self-discovery and though I've come to terms with some of my baby-penis insecurity, the organ is still unfamiliar and awkward to me. His daddy assures me he won't hurt himself but seriously, the way he pulls on that thing concerns me at times. I find myself needing a word. As opposed to "don't bite your sister" I ought to be able to say "don't tug your penis." However, that's awkward. I really don't like pee-pee though. It's just too... baby-talk-y for me. So I've so far resorted to pronouns or pure avoidance such as "gentle with that" -- like it's a porcelain doll. "That" doesn't seem quite right either, but at the moment, "that" is my penis crutch. I'm sure the day when Rhianna asks what it is will come and either I'll have to come up with a name I'm happy with or she'll draw a diagram and SHE will tell ME all the appropriate names for the junk.
That's all for today.
My children really aren't old enough to truly appreciate their girl/boy parts, but my daughter has already learned the proper names for all her parts. How you ask? Where does every girl learn about the important things in life? Her girlfriends. That's right, my not-even-three-year-old daughter has a posse of other not-quite-three-year-old-girls and they, apparently, chit-chat about these things. Gender studies tot-style is mostly about look-what-you've-got and who else "matches" your parts. I'm not quite sure I was prepared for my toddler to come home and, while Rhianna watched me put on my bra she informed me that Sage's mommy has boobies too. Oh, and that she (Rhianna) has boobies but Owen doesn't. Now, don't get the wrong idea, Rhianna hasn't seen Sage's mommy naked, but she does know that, like Rhianna, Sage and her mommy are girls and therefore booby carriers.
Rhianna also learned the word "gina" (pronounced like vagina, just without the va) though we've tried to wean that out of her. Not because I disapprove of her using the word, but because she doesn't understand that her gina is only a part of her bottom. And it's more than a little disturbing to hear "my poopies are stuck in my gina." Enough said.
On the other side of the spectrum, we have Owen. Owen doesn't yet have (m)any useful, let alone anatomically correct, words. His vocabulary is, so far, limited to "no," "up," "uh-oh" and "e-i-e-i-o" (yes, I know, if he can sing e-i-e-i-o, you'd think he would communicate more essential things such as "hungry" or "hurt" but I guess it just doesn't work that way). Nonetheless, Owen has started what I understand will be a lifetime activity of exploring his man parts. Now, I understand that this is just part of self-discovery and though I've come to terms with some of my baby-penis insecurity, the organ is still unfamiliar and awkward to me. His daddy assures me he won't hurt himself but seriously, the way he pulls on that thing concerns me at times. I find myself needing a word. As opposed to "don't bite your sister" I ought to be able to say "don't tug your penis." However, that's awkward. I really don't like pee-pee though. It's just too... baby-talk-y for me. So I've so far resorted to pronouns or pure avoidance such as "gentle with that" -- like it's a porcelain doll. "That" doesn't seem quite right either, but at the moment, "that" is my penis crutch. I'm sure the day when Rhianna asks what it is will come and either I'll have to come up with a name I'm happy with or she'll draw a diagram and SHE will tell ME all the appropriate names for the junk.
That's all for today.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Announcement
Yesterday I had the pleasure of calling my parents to tell them that we had finally sold the townhouse. Well, the pleasure wasn't so much in telling them (btw, SILs, we haven't told YOUR parents yet, so please keep our secret), but in making them squirm.
When I called, Dad picked up the phone.
"Hey Dad, it's me."
"Hey there, how's it going?"
"Uhm.. It's good. Hey is Mom there?"
"Uh. Yeah."
"Can you put her on the phone too?"
{shuffle to get Mom on the phone}
"Hey Mom. Dad. I have some exciting news for you!"
{together} "Oh no."
{Mom} "I'm afraid to ask."
{Me} "I'm..." {laugh, take a breath, make them squirm as they await the words "pregnant again" that they are sure are about to follow} "...no longer a townhouse owner!"
{huge sigh and awkward stumble over words as they regroup to finally realize I have not told them of the scheduled arrival of yet another grandchild} "Wow!! that's great!"
When I called, Dad picked up the phone.
"Hey Dad, it's me."
"Hey there, how's it going?"
"Uhm.. It's good. Hey is Mom there?"
"Uh. Yeah."
"Can you put her on the phone too?"
{shuffle to get Mom on the phone}
"Hey Mom. Dad. I have some exciting news for you!"
{together} "Oh no."
{Mom} "I'm afraid to ask."
{Me} "I'm..." {laugh, take a breath, make them squirm as they await the words "pregnant again" that they are sure are about to follow} "...no longer a townhouse owner!"
{huge sigh and awkward stumble over words as they regroup to finally realize I have not told them of the scheduled arrival of yet another grandchild} "Wow!! that's great!"
finally.
Today's buzzword is "finally."
It's finally Friday.
We finally sold the townhouse.
I finally figured out how to change my title bar.
Finally.
It's finally Friday.
We finally sold the townhouse.
I finally figured out how to change my title bar.
Finally.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Little brother
As the youngest of two girls, I never fully understood the concept of the annoying younger brother. Now that I am the mother to one, I'm glad I never had to experience it first hand.
I am truly amazed at the instinct my little boy has when it comes to sibling torture -- and even more impressed at how much he delights in this activity. Somewhere, at the beginning of his younger-than-she bible is a commandment that reads, "Thou shall relish every opportunity to terrorize thy older sibling; for her cries shall be your laughter; her tears, your joy; and her screams, your lifeforce." And Owen sees that this commandment is obeyed.
I am truly amazed at the instinct my little boy has when it comes to sibling torture -- and even more impressed at how much he delights in this activity. Somewhere, at the beginning of his younger-than-she bible is a commandment that reads, "Thou shall relish every opportunity to terrorize thy older sibling; for her cries shall be your laughter; her tears, your joy; and her screams, your lifeforce." And Owen sees that this commandment is obeyed.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
We've been asked
First official inquiry by SomeGuy in Costco: Wednesday, Jan. 9, 2007
"Are they twins?"
"Are they twins?"
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
New Year
With all intentions of more regular blogging, we enter the new year. Owen has a new tooth, Rhianna has a new attitude. If all goes well, we'll keep the tooth and lose the attitude. All in all, the new year looks promising. If we could just sell the (damn!) townhouse, we might be working towards some interesting changes this year. Alas, we must remain calm until the bugger sells.
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