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« March 2006 | Main | May 2006 »
Battle Fatigue.
April 30, 2006
At some point, several months ago, Monk took to referring to me as "the old battle ax." Boy, do I ever feel that one today. It was a particularly difficult day that included as it's central focal point, a NINE FUCKING HOUR standoff with one Mr. Monk. About his chores. Specifically one chore. Cleaning his room.
Folks, this is where all of that egalitarian parenting crap breaks down. Anyone can talk a good game about taking children seriously or being respectful or what have you...but really in my mind when it comes to enforcing household participation, I don't fuck around. I just don't have time to be the person who does everything around here. And I don't think it's good for my kids (or, really anyone's kids...but you raise yours the way you want to) to just assume that they can get away without doing what is expected of them. I do listen to them when they have issues or complaints to raise, but I do NOT negotiate once an assignment has been given. If it is a reasonable request, I expect reasonable compliance. That's all there is to it.
So, for nine hours today, I had to face a child who absolutely refused to do 30 minutes worth of work, and was willing to lose all manner of privileges to prove some point that I think was totally lost in the shuffle. I STILL don't even know what his point was, other than he was hell-bent on defying me and gaining steam throughout the day.
My early strategies were simple and positive. "When you are done tidying your room," I said, "I can set up the TV and game cube in there." He wasn't falling for it, or the other 3-4 positive consequences. Nor did he particularly give a shit about the negative consequences. It was a full-on stand down. And my stubborn freaking child was NOT budging.
I was determined, too. I was determined to not yell. I was determined to not "kitchen sink" him (which is an unfortunate parenting strategy that involves reeling off a list of really abstract consequences. In my darker parenting moments, these have included such marginal threats as "I am going to burn every last one of your Goosebumps books" to "You will NEVER PLAY AGAIN." - Granted, that last one is usually shrieked humorously a la Burger Meister Meisterburger from the Rankin Bass Year Without a Santa Claus cartoon, but there have been times that it has been tinged with more hopeful truth than I care to admit. Even though I just admitted it.) and I did not do either of those things.
I did, however, spend all day inwardly bemoaning my predicament, questioning myself, feeling like the worst parent on the face of the planet - not to mention the most hypocritical anarchist! Did my mom have such crises of parenting? Did she ever spend an entire day questioning whether her tactics were going to damage her child for life? At one point, I called her and asked her. "No." was her short answer. The long answer was that she had seven children, and she just didn't have time to think about her parenting. Hm.
Late in the battle, I changed tactics. After Monk escaped confinement and decided to entertain himself by tormentnig his brother yet again, I sent him to The Room Without Books. Monk told me I could never break him! That he didn't care if he never played a computer game again or ever EVER got any allowance, he was NEVER going to clean his room! NEVER.
"In fact," said my young upstart, "I'm ON STRIKE."
Damn me for talking about the general strike on May Day earlier in the afternoon!
"OK, Monk." I said, in my explaining voice. "A strike is often a very noble thing...and I can respect you taking a noble stand. However, people who go on strike have to face consequences for doing so, and they need to be very sure that they are striking for a worthy purpose." And then I paused, and added. "I'm not so sure this is a noble thing to strike about."
I skipped the speech about arbitration. I figure there will be more general strikes from Monk in the future (maude help us all) and I can slowly mete out the lessons about labor negotiations and whatnot through his teen years.
Frustrated as I was, I called all of my support people that I could think of to avoid blowing my top with this kiddo - and, more importantly, to avoid giving in. I hate being stubborn like this...but worse than the idea that I spent an entire day battling with my son over 30 minutes worth of chores is the idea that I would battle with my son over 30 minutes of chores only to give in and do them for him. I had two things that were keeping me from bowing to the pressure. First, Monk has told me before that I too frequently give in rather than sticking to it and making the kids face the consequences of their actions. He has said that he actually doesn't respect it all that much when I do that, and that it confuses him. Second, I had spent way too much time the night before reading the blog of some dude who killed a little girl in his apartment complex and was all set to EAT HER and, as ridiculous as it sounds (some of you parents out there will get this) all day in the back of my mind was this idea that "Hell no, my kid is not going to grow up to be a freaking serial killer, and if I give him this battle, he's surely going to end up on a slow slide to sociopathy."
So, the important thing was to stay insistent, but stay as calm as possible. And I did.
Until NINE HOURS LATER. My darling son emerged. I had told him earlier in the day, when I was still in the "helpful suggestion" phase, that perhaps it would be a good idea to ask his little brother for help. So, as I sat here trying to keep myself from blowing my top by playing a mindless flash game over and over and over again, Monk entered his room and said, ever so politely, to Coley "Cole, if you help me clean my room...mom will give us computer time tomorrow."
Coley, somewhat distracted by his play, just said "OK." Simple as that.
Monk then approached me "Mom...is it OK if I PROMISE to clean the room tomorrow after I feed the pets and before I have breakfast."
My heart leapt, however..."Honey, we have an appointment in the morning. That's not going to work."
Monk accepted this somewhat downheartedly, but...still...he seemed to be coming around.
"I'll tell you what," I told him. "If you go take a shower, I will tell Coley that when you are out of the shower, it will be time to clean up and get ready for bed."
Monk lit up. "OK!"
Then he did something super amazing. He went back into the room and told his baby brother "Listen, it's not fair for me to get help from you for nothing...so if you help me, I will let you have MY computer time tomorrow."
Coley agreed to this, and Monk came back into my room, beaming. I have to admit, I was beaming, too. "I'm glad you made the right choice, Monkeyman. For a minute there...I thought you were going to make the wrong choice."
"For a MINUTE?" Monk said. "Maybe I should start this thing all over again!"
I chuckled, somewhat fearfully. "Um...no no no no! OK! For NINE HOURS THERE...I thought you were going to make the wrong choice."
Both of us sort of laughed uncomfortably...I guess we were both a little battle weary.
Damn, this parenting shit is hard!
When all was said and done and the room was passably tidy, I told Monk "You know...that stubbornness will serve a purpose someday, but I just wish you wouldn't practice it so much on your allies. I wish you would reserve it for your enemies."
Monk said "Yeah! Like when I'm protesting!"
"Yeah...something like that."
Woe unto the cop who tries to drag that kiddo off to the paddy wagon. Let me tell you.
Don't you wish you could be a parent, too?
And, with that, I'm totally going to sleep.
Ha!
April 28, 2006
[link via Shaula]
My weird children are at it again.
April 28, 2006
The kids got home from their dad's today WAY before I was ready to officially be awake, so I told them they could watch PBS.
When I woke up, I wandered into the living room and the children were crouched behind the chair, whispering war strategies to each other. There was a pile of socks in front of the TV. The Teletubbies were on.
They were engaging in a war against the Teletubbies, lobbing socks at the TV like grenades. I went to make my coffee, and Monk says to Coley in a loud whisper "Cover me! I need to pee!"
It's like a freaking live-action Calvin and Hobbes comic here, folks. Non-stop action and adventure.
Keep the bastards guessin'
April 28, 2006
I am for sure going straight to Craig's list hell for something I did today:
I am about to explode in a gush of menstrual fluid. Need sex. Pronto. Any volunteers?
I posted the ad at 3:30, and at 5:07 it was "removed by the craigslist community."
However, not before I received over fifty responses from some extremely kind men who were more than happy to volunteer for the task at hand.
And I thought men were squeamish about such things!
I kind of wonder why it was removed...perhaps it was because it was more of a hook-up sounding ad posted on the general board. I entertained the thought of posting a similar ad on women for women, men for women (perhaps with reference to seminal fluid or something, rather than menstrual fluid) and men for men (with the same change) to see if I got as many responses and, more importantly, if the ad would be yanked. But I decided against it.
I did not do this to make fun of those who responded to the ad. That would be kind of mean. However, I did get some pretty interesting responses. Only one person congratulated me for a "funny post" - the rest took me dead seriously. One guy endearingly typed "GROSS!" in the subject line of his email, but then wrote "but pick me!" in the body. I think I liked him the best!
It was an interesting social experiment, to say the least.
And it kind of made me wonder about people who have the mindset that allows them to have a totally random, casual sexual encounter...especially one that might include bloody bodily fluids. You know? And I want to be careful here, because I definitely don't think there's anything wrong with "hooking up" or whatever if that is your thing. It's not really my bag, but I can't hold anything against people who are able to honestly articulate their needs and have a respectful reciprocal interaction with someone that satisfies those needs.
However, as I've spent the past few months attempting to meet and get to know people, and finding that it's terribly difficult to get close to people in a completely non-sexual way...I wonder if sex is our only means of connecting with each other. And, if so...is that a symptom of a larger problem, or is it the cause? Or is it just normal? It seems like it's so fucking hard (pardon the punny innuendo!) to truly connect with people. People are SO PROTECTIVE of what is inside of them...that it causes us to grasp at the physical to approximate the spiritual/emotional connection. And then, when you do meet someone you can connect with on some level, it's all scarcity scare, you know? You can't possibly allow anyone else to get what you got...because you might never get it again - from that person, or anyone else.
I dunno, all of this stuff is jumbled around in my brain. I'm happy lately with all of the weird little social interactions I am going out of my way to establish in my life...but there is a part of me that still feels like I'm pacing back and forth behind the bars of a cage, swiping at people who are trying to feed me. Demanding more, and slowly starving. It is as if the more clear I am about what I need in my life, the more impossible it becomes to obtain it. And, really, what I want is pretty damn simple. Connection. For me, it's like a piece of cake. I'm happy to overshare and snuggle up in the arms of anyone who seems the slightest bit safe and non-ax-murderish. And I happen to know that I am safe and non-ax-murderish myself, but all I get is fear and hesitation from people. As if sharing what is inside of your soul is something that needs to be protected. As if somehow you can create safety in seclusion.
I don't get it, but I'm not really frustrated or annoyed by it. I'm a little amused. I'm terribly in love with people. I have at least one huge crush right now, and several smaller ones. I'm enjoying those feelings for what they are...and I'm wishing it wasn't so freaking scary for people to share. I know I didn't cause the fear, and I know I can't make it go away, but -oh- I want to! I want to cure and heal and in so doing be cured and healed. over and over again.
So, yeah. Funny how a silly little experiment can cause so much reflection. I should thank all of those horny craig's list boys for their contribution to my day. Thanks, guys! I hope you find what you are looking for! I know I did.
Random Thought From the Mind of a 9-year Old
April 27, 2006
"Imagine what would happen if a chubby baby had a boxing match with a wrinkled old man"
(And, yes, this tipped off a world of speculation from the 5-year old, and sparked a discussion about all of the possibilities - including false teeth going flying, and babies being punched in the gut. Why are my kids so weird?)
Greek Protests
April 27, 2006
Bombs and Shields linked up a couple of articles detailing protests in Athens directed at a visit by Condoleezza Rice.
Zeebah's Blogaversary!
April 27, 2006
4 years! Yay!
Unearthed by Search
April 27, 2006
I love seeing what kinds of posts are unearthed by search engine. Earlier this week, I was pleased to discover that I am the number 2 hit for the search term worst+girlfriend+ever with this post:
So, for the 2nd or 3rd time in the past month, I fell asleep during a date with J. Trust me, it says a lot more about me than him. He is not boring or unfun in any way, shape, or form...I am simply the worst girlfriend ever.
And today, I find this gem - which someone I'm sure was thrilled to discover when they haplessly searched using the terms zipper+rides+carnivals:
I had absolutely no idea why on earth Craig might be interested in me. I was gangly and awkward, having just entered puberty. My hair was goofy looking. I had absolutely no fashion sense. My teeth were crooked, and I'm sure I smelled funny. I haven't changed much.I have mentioned, of course, that I spent most of my teenage years steadfastly refusing sex. Craig was certainly not going to go "all the way" with me.
Craig, however, was either desperate to try, or saw something in me that I did not see. He spotted me at the drinking fountain in the activity building while I was waiting for my friend Claire to use the bathroom. Or maybe I spotted him. Or, more likely, his cousin, Kip, spotted Claire, and I was just someone who had to be dragged along for the ride.
At any rate, Craig spent the day riding rides with me. He held my hand on the zipper (the RIDE called the Zipper, you perv! Not his ACTUAL zipper) and he shared his cotton candy with me on the ferris wheel.
I suppose I should keep these posts secret from my hypothetical responders to the Craig's List I proposed below. Although...they are pretty funny. Especially the second one.
Pre-Menstrosity
April 26, 2006
I have been pre-menstrual for a whole fucking week now, and I feel like I'm going to explode in a gush of menstrual fluids.
If that is disturbing to anyone, quite honestly, I don't give a fuck. Maybe if I am mean enough I will get my fucking period already.
Blah.
Cuteness
April 25, 2006
Coley came running out of his room naked, after I told him he needed to get dressed so he can go play at his friend's house.
"You better put some clothes on that booty, Coley, because I'm tempted to smack it!" Says I.
Coley's response?
"Smack it! Smack it and say 'hi ho silver!'"
WTF? Hahahhahahahaha.
Vaccinated at Birth
April 25, 2006
But US scientists have found a way to stimulate an immune response in newborns, following the discovery of a type of molecule present at birth.
For a number of reasons.
I made a choice when Monk was 6 months old to stop vaccinating him, and Coley has not been vaccinated at all. Monk's vaccinations ended when the doctor who was going to administer them brought out a tray of, I think, THREE different vaccinations (some of which were vaccination coctails) and, quite honestly, though I did the research then, I don't remember enough about what gets injected into a child's body when to tell you which vaccines they were trying to administer other than the fact that one of them was the Chicken Pox vaccine which I had already decided was not on the menu for Monk.
When I informed the doctor that I didn't want Monk to get the Chicken Pox vaccine, I got a huge lecture and "talking to" from her. Which really pissed me off because I had done a tremendous amount of research and soul searching to make that decision, and I made that decision at a time when I was still recovering from the traumatic birth, and all of the hospitaly things that happened during the birth, and all of the questioning of myself and my decisions and everything. So, I was in no mood to be questioned by the medical establishment about my choices as a parent.
In the interim years, my ex and I continued to do research on the efficacy and potential harmful side effects of vaccinations, not to mention the harmful ingredients that are included in the mix. We stopped immunizing Monk completely in the meantime. When Coley came along, we had a home birth, so there was no pushiness from doctors, no eye drops, no push to get immunized...I allowed the midwife to administer the heel prick, but that was it.
We visited a family physician when Coley was an infant and asked his expert opinion on vaccinations. He went through the list of available/recommended vaccines with us and gave his opinion on which he absolutely thought were important, and which were not so important. This physician was very decidedly pro-vaccine, but he was known around Austin for his ability to understand and work with those parents who question whether vaccination does more harm than good.
In the end, we chose to not vaccinate Cole or Monk. At one point, Coley stepped on a piece of glass in the yard, and I had to bring him to the emergency room for a tetanus shot. I was pleasantly surprised at how polite the emergency room staff was, and how tolerant they were of my decision to not vax, considering all of the horror stories I have heard and witnessed first-hand.
At any rate, I mention my history hear as a disclaimer for what I am about to say. I am by no means an authority on vaccines, nor do I feel ANYONE can be an authority. The reason I have made the choices I have made hinges mainly on the fact that I am very privileged, and therefore the chances that I will encounter any of the serious diseases (polio, diptheria) that people use vaccinations for are practically non-existent. Some of the other illnesses (measels, mumps, chicken pox) are not life-threatening in healthy children and therefore I am willing to forego the vaccine. I have serious issues, especially, with the chicken pox vaccine.
All vaccines only provide temporary immunity. Only recovery from natural chickenpox disease will provide lifelong immunity. When the chickenpox vaccine was licensed for public use in 1995, the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) estimated that it was 70 to 90 percent effective in preventing disease. A recent Centers for Disease Control (CDC) study (Dec. 2002) reported that "the effectiveness of the vaccine was 44 percent against disease of any severity and 86 percent against moderate or severe disease." Some are suggesting a second dose of chickenpox vaccine may be needed. Another study in 2002 confirmed that adults exposed to natural chickenpox disease were protected from developing shingles and that there is concern that mass vaccination against chickenpox may cause a future epidemic of shingles, affecting more than 50 percent of Americans aged 10 to 44 years.
Pertussis, or whooping cough, is not even fully preventable with vaccination. You might get a milder case of it if you have been immunized, but you will still catch it, and it will never be fully eradicated.
It is my opinion that we have no business introducing foreign agents into the tiny little bodies of infants. Bodies which are only just beginning to figure out how to function outside of the womb. Not only does it seem to be a dangerous idea physiologically speaking, but the psychological ramification of poking an infant with needles as one of their first experiences in life freaks me out. My decision to not vaccinate my children was not made with any degree of absolutism. In fact, now that Monk is older, I am going to be revisiting the information I initially visited when Coley was an infant to try to determine which, if any, vaccines I should recommend to him at this point in his life.
I by no means think that vaccines should be eliminated entirely, HOWEVER, I do feel very strongly that there are other methods of protecting our children's immunity without sticking needles in them. I also feel like many vaccinations enable us to overlook the fact that we live in a world in which some people are so poor that they are still dealing with diseases that most developed nations do not need to deal with. If we just blanket them with free vaccines provided by our multi-billion dollar pharmaceutical industry, we don't have to worry so much about the fact that some people don't have access to clean water or marginally decent healthcare or nutritious food. Not to mention the cessation of anti-breastfeeding campaigns funded by (surprise) the very same pharmaceutical industry that wants to force us to immunize our tiny babies against the diseases that are best prevented by natural antibodies that occur in mother's milk. Can't market that!
So, the idea that we are researching ways to not only immunize children at BIRTH - but also ways in which to mess with the body's immune system in order to do so - just freaks me out. I just don't trust an INDUSTRY to consider anything other than the bottom line when it comes to creating new ways to make us dependent on their product, particularly when it comes to manipulating parents about the healthcare needs of their children.
Naked Chimney Guy
April 25, 2006
Santa? No! It's Naked chimney guy!
"He told us he took off his clothes because as he was going down the chimney the clothes would rub up against it and slow him down," Branson said. "If it was skin on cement he felt he would go down easier."
Now, I'm not an engineer or anything, but...who on this earth thinks that removing your clothing will HELP you get down a chimney? That is, who, among people who actually think they CAN get all the way down a chimney.
Do you think HE'S one of the 30 some-odd percent in Bush's approval rating? That would explain a lot.
I am the decider.
April 24, 2006
I was watching the news shows this weekend, and I truly realized, yet again, why I'm so not wanting to pay attention to politics.
It's because...when I see the president of the united states on television throwing a total fucking temper tantrum and saying things like "I'm the decider! I decide things!" The absolute surreal ridiculousness of it all makes me want to hide somewhere.
And the danger inherent in that ridiculousness makes me want to do foolish things because, damnit, if we can really have a populace that supports a president that says such things (even if it is just 30 some-odd percent of the populace) ANYfuckinggoddamnthing is possible. Especially the Really Bad Things. You know, the ones that require leadership with actual BRAINS to stave off. And, not just brains, but...like, a sense of reality. Or SOMETHING.
"I am the decider." Holy sweet dancing Jesus...you know? And the newscasters listen to that reel, to that soundbite, and then just proceed with their little debate forum as if there isn't something horribly awfully unbelievably FUCKED UP going on. I seriously would feel a lot better right now if SOMEONE - ANYONE in mainstream media would just say "WHAT THE FUCK, PEOPLE? WHY IS OUR PRESIDENT SAYING THINGS LIKE "I AM THE DECIDER, I DECIDE THINGS!"
Gack. Just...gack.
Ladies and Gentlemen...
April 23, 2006
I have found...a housemate.
(commence immense celebration)
housemate ramblings.
April 22, 2006
I said something today out of the blue to a potential housemate that made me think "wow. That exactly describes my current experience in a way that I have never been able to describe it, and it's so simple."
We were talking about fixing things, because this particular potential housemate is handy about the house. She was asking me what kinds of things need to get done around here, because she comes with her own set of tools. I was telling her that it was going to be difficult to get me to let go of my tendency to not accept help from people. What I was saying to her, actually, was that I have been taking care of every little thing around here for so long that I'm not even sure I would know what to ask of another person who might want to take care of something. And it's not even that I'm taking care of everything...it's that I'm taking care of everything I can, and leaving the rest.
And it's so true. I can look around me and see the areas I have been forced to neglect out of sheer impossibility. I think this potential housemate was trying to tell me that she wanted to work WITH me to help out, and I think that is a very good thing, indeed. I might act like I have everything under control around here, but I just don't. I have what NEEDS to be under control under control. Everything else...I have learned to let slide.
So, it is with that thought that I am going to accustom myself to the idea of having a housemate, and potentially having a housemate that wants to actually pitch in around here. And it is with that thought, too, that I approach the other relationships in my life, evaluating how to make emotional ends meet without me going three-quarters of the way out to receive one-quarter in return. Because, like I told the potential housemate, when you get used to taking it all on yourself, it's amazing how much you learn to tolerate the bare minimum. And not just tolerate, but expect it and fully embrace it.
For those who care...
April 21, 2006
This is what we currently have on loan from the library:
My Picks:
Firefly world factbook Lye, Keith
Checklists for life : 104 lists to help you get organized, save time, and unclutter your life Lagatree, Kirsten M.
Whistling and other stories Goldberg, Myra
The Berlin stories : The last of Mr. Norris, Goodbye to Berlin Isherwood, Christopher
Killer market Maron, Margaret
Eat the rich O'Rourke, P. J.
Reefer madness : sex, drugs, and cheap labor in the American black market Schlosser, Eric.
You can do it! : the merit badge handbook for grown-up girls Grandcolas, Lauren Catuzzi
The Home answer book Wissinger, Joanna
"A" is for alibi : a Kinsey Millhone mystery Grafton, Sue
Cole's Picks:
Stone soup : an old tale Brown, Marcia
Amazing whales! Thomson, Sarah L.
Luther's Halloween Meister, Cari
Mouse's Halloween party Modesitt, Jeanne
Halloween day Rockwell, Anne F.
DK big book of trucks Bingham, Caroline
Bugs are insects Rockwell, Anne F
Koi and the kola nuts : a tale from Liberia Aardema, Verna
Lemonade for sale Murphy, Stuart J.
Vaqueros Rice, James
Monk's Picks
Ancient Rome Simpson, Judith
Black water MacHale, D. J.
The not-so-jolly Roger Scieszka, Jon
Hey kid, want to buy a bridge? Scieszka, Jon
Your mother was a Neanderthal Scieszka, Jon
2095 Scieszka, Jon
The Roman Empire Nardo, Don
The land and people of China Major, John S.
The Korean war McGowen, Tom
Aztec, Inca & Maya Baquedano, Elizabeth
In the past 12 hours...
April 21, 2006
I have had to clean up (3+) shitloads of doggy diarrhea, and I have set a pot of popcorn ON FIRE.
Needless to say, my house smells lovely.
And I have about a zillion people coming to look at the room this weekend.
I swear...the universe is conspiring against me ever finding a fucking housemate.
Fuck.
(or, more appropriately...Shit.)
The dog is staying outside for the rest of the day, and I am totally not going near the stove.
Holy Nerdiers!
April 19, 2006
Monk is so awesome (and, yes, as a matter of fact, I AM nattering on and on about my wonderful children). I turned on PBS tonight in hopes of distracting the kids for a bit so I could get some rest. I happened to turn it on right at the start of Holy Warriors. Once he determined it was OK for him to watch it, he became totally transfixed. Halfway through the episode, he said to me with awed hope "Mom...do you like this enough to BUY it for me?"
Ah, my little nerdling.
Diplomatic Negotiations
April 19, 2006
On the playground, they are playing a game of Coley's invention called "Andrewson 2" (which, I have been told, is MUCH better than the original "Andrewson"). Andrewson, you see, is Coley's imaginary knight.
Coley says the object of the game is "bloody murder."
One kid pulls out his gun and starts shooting, and this argument ensues:
Coley: You can't do that! Guns aren't allowed in this game!
Gun kid: Are too!
Coley: No. Only bows and arrows!
Gun kid: Starts pretending to shoot Coley with his imaginary gun.
...tensions rise...will someone go nuclear?
Coley: (more emphatically): NO. GUNS. IN. THIS. GAME.
Gun kid: YES. GUNS!
Coley: NO!
Gun kid: YES!
Coley: Well, I invented this game, and I SAY...NO GUNS!
Gun kid: OH! OK.
Gun kid tosses the imaginary gun to the side, pulls out his imaginary bow and arrow, and merry game playing ensues with only the requisite amount of imaginary conflict.
Oh, Coley...
April 19, 2006
Earlier today, someone came over to look at the room I have for rent. She seemed really nice - had a cute dog, was an artistic type...didn't seem to mind the chaotic state of the house.
We were standing in the room and discussing the possibilities for the space if I couldn't find a housemate when Coley said: "Wanna see something in a drawer in the refrigerator?"
I knew exactly what he was referring to. "Coley, no she most certainly does NOT." I said, thinking "ixnay on the efrigeratorray!"
"YES she DOES, mom!"
"NO...she does NOT."
The woman looks at me questioningly and I turned red. I had to explain to her that the thing in the drawer in the refrigerator he was insisting on showing her was a moldy orange.
I will never rent that freaking room out at this rate. Never.
At the very least, Coley is no longer allowed to be here while I'm showing the room.
Just some rambling, and a little complaining
April 19, 2006
So you know...I am really tired of spending my day going from one argument to the next about mundane shit like cleaning up the zillion and a half playing cards that are scattered all over the floor, and no you may not have sprite, and please stop griping about what you CAN'T have and appreciate what you CAN have, and oh, yes, you do have to brush your teeth, even if you are really tired, and now it is time to take a bath, and oh, yes...the hair must be washed because you smell like a puppy dog...and on and on. And. QUIT. FREAKING. MAKING. THAT. NOISE. And, dude...my bedroom is NOT in the middle of the house...please stop wandering in here.
Bah! Gah! I sincerely love being a mama, but these children...are driving...me...INSANE!
OK.
Now that that is out of my system...
I spent this morning cleaning up the kitchen and listening to the Go! Team. Damn, they are good. It makes the day happy even when I'm all aneurysmy. And PMSy...which explains the sensitivity I am having to sound. Does anyone else get that way when they are PMSing? any unexpected sounds make me feel tense and nervous. I swear Monk thinks I'm insane. I mean, I'm pretty sensitive to sound in general (which, I mean, try explaining to your 9-year old why clicking the top of a pen over and over again is driving you to the edge of your patience but, like, Einsturzende Neubauten is a pleasant listening experience. I can't do it. Maybe you can.) but at this time of the month, I am a TOTAL freak.
Speaking of freak, Monk has taken to calling ME a nerd. The king of nerds. Calling ME an NERD! Ha! I found out yesterday what happens when I beat him at Mario Kart Double Dash, though. I've been practicing every night after the kids go to bed just so I can beat him, and I DID yesterday. For the first time. It messed up his little world, too. He threw a ginormous temper tantrum and wouldn't talk to me for HOURS. Then he said he wished I would have a seizure because then I wouldn't be able to play the Gamecube anymore.
I thought that was an odd thing to say...but then today I was cleaning up the living room and I found the little "precaution" booklet that comes with the gamecube, and I realized Monk had READ the fucking thing. Ha! Talk about NERD! He will never hear the end of it.
My little reader.
He is now re-reading all of the Lemony Snicket books and finding little clues throughout. This morning, we had a long conversation about "what happens if" the Baudelaire orphans were to come and live in our house. Monk said that he would be happy to have some help with his chores and homework, but that he wouldn't make them work TOO hard.
OK, so I guess it's NOT so bad being here with the kiddos. They are funny and fun and all sorts of entertaining. I just need to pull my head out of my ass and enjoy them. Fully.
And listen to the Go! Team. Because it's impossible to not have fun when the Go! Team are playing.
The joys of working with youth.
April 18, 2006
This kid I work with just walked into the office, where I was listening to Beauty Pill. He says to me "Hey, have you ever heard Muse?"
I answer "Nah. Never heard them."
He says "Oh, because they're really good. You might like them."
"Yeah," I say. "What do they sound like?"
"Oh...they sound a lot like some of those OLD rock bands..."
"Old rock bands isn't descriptive...gimme a clue here."
"Oh, you know," He says..."Like RADIOHEAD. You know, like music from the NINETIES."
"Ouch!"
Thankfully, he at least had the presence of mind to realize how funny that was.
Ugh, though. Just...ugh.
I am an old fucker. I am. It's sad, but true.
Oh My God I Love Coley!
April 17, 2006
So, today marked the return of my favorite EVER coleyism. It's one of those mispronounced words that you just don't want to correct because it's so freaking adorable I don't think I can live without it. It's, get this...CONFETTITTY! We encounter this word every year around this time of the year because of the abundance of cascarones and, thus, lots of CONFETTITTY!
Also, Coley just got something stuck in his teeth and asked me to get him some of that..."what do you call it, mom? Sloff? You know, that string that you put between your teeth."
Ack! He's so freaking adorable. Must tackle him with hugs and kisses. Now.
Oh, ETA: I love, also, how filling a near-empty bottle of lavender with water and replacing the plastic cap with a cork turns it into a potion, and inspires a million devious plots of poisoning people "when I'm old enough to go on walks by myself."
Oh...now it's "the juice of the firefly" from Narnia...which I suppose is the anti-poison. Phew. Thank "God" for christian allegorical movies!
Another reason why last.fm rocks my world
April 17, 2006
Can I get THIS made into a freaking POSTER? How hot is that?
Seriously. Last.fm blows this "sliced bread" shit out of the fucking water.
Oh Thank You, Sister Novena!
April 17, 2006
Yes! this is EXACTLY what I'm talking about:
My friends are the most important people in the world to me -- I love my friends, I adore them, I would do anything in the world to contribute to their happiness. To be honest, I can be a lot more ardent about my friends than I sometimes am about my romantic relationships. According to a mindset that only recognizes couples and not-couples, that kind of affection makes no sense; it's the mindset that produces phrases like "just friends." I can't even comprehend "just" friends -- you can't get any closer to me than friendship. Who needs a boyfriend when you've got half a dozen real friends? Now, if one comes along, that's great; I'm not against the idea. But if he doesn't, my sense of self-worth remains intact. I am whole the way I am.
I love it! And, yes...there's room for romantic entanglements at some point, but I really find myself wishing to avoid them entirely right now. Not out of fear, but out of...well...apathy. For awhile there, I was feeling like it would be really nice to find a friend to snuggle with at night, but now that it's SO FUCKING HOT outside, that desire is quickly dissipating, as well.
Yay! I want to write more about this! Surely there are more out there! Let's start a revolution! Let's redefine relationships!
Wonton Soup...and being single.
April 17, 2006
I was rolling wontons today while the boys were playing with the gamecube, and I was thinking about all of these little miniature relationships I find myself embroiled in. Friendships...potential friendships...failed friendships...urban tribalism (!)...
...and I was thinking about how fucking delighted I am to be single.
When I broke up with J, I really thought about the way I've gotten involved in most of my relationships. What happens is this - for the most part, I stumble into them ass-backwards. With maybe one exception, I generally end up in a relationship RIGHT AT the point when I'm enjoying my singlehood immensely and never wanting it to change. And what happens is I unconsciously end up in a relationship mostly because I want to share the joy that I've been experiencing as a single person...with another person...in a relationship...thereby sacrificing the thing that made me want to be in a relationship in the first place.
So, when I broke up with J, I thought "What if I actually CONSCIOUSLY avoid relationships for awhile?" I'm talking, not just "not really want" a relationship...or "not actively look for" a relationship, but truly, truly, truly refuse to get embroiled in one. Make it a choice, and make it stick.
I'm talking like a committed, monogamous relationship here. And, me being who I am, that means no sex. Because I'm not really into the whole concept of casual sex. In fact, sex is like the least important thing to me when it comes to a relationship...and not-so-ironically, the reason I have so much trouble with my relationships also seems to revolve, to some extent, around sex.
So, anyway, I was thinking about all of this while I was rolling wontons, because rolling wontons is a totally meditative act. I was thinking about the perfect relationship for me right now. I was really thinking what would be cool would be to have a friend (and, for reasons that make sense to me but might not make sense to anyone else...and that's OK...this friend is ideally a male friend) who would be happy to come hang out in my house with me and just...be here...while I"m rolling wontons, or doing the dishes, or dancing around the living room. Someone who didn't have to talk all of the time, and who didn't require much of my attention, but would give and receive attention when appropriate...but, mostly, someone who would be happy with going about their business as I go about mine with no demands. And at the end of the day, I could maybe go for a walk with this person and send him on his way.
I get that I'm looking for someone to enjoy all of the totally mundane aspects of partnership with, without rewarding them with the exciting excitement of SEX and stuff. But certainly that's not a bizarre desire, is it? It's actually really simple, and, I think...kind of sweet. Think of it. I could be doing the dishes while this imaginary friend is doing laundry. I could be cranking music and cleaning the living room while this person reads the paper. And every once in awhile he would tell me something he just read, and I would stop dancing long enough to listen.
Doesn't that sound awesome? I wonder if I could put THAT in a Craig's List ad. Ha! I'd probably get like 50 million responses from horny internet dudes who think it's all just another way of saying I actually just really need to GET LAID!
By the way, the wontons kicked ass. I'll have to post the recipe later.
Dave Smith? Yeah. I slept with him.
April 16, 2006
ha! It's time for the annual peep off:
But Dave Smith, a Sacramento anthropologist who works with monkeys, has eaten hundreds of them, and not because he likes them.Smith coordinates the annual Peeps Off in Sacramento, usually conducted the weekend following Easter. This year will be the 13th annual event, its sole purpose being to see how many Peeps a person can consume in a 30-minute time frame.
The record-holder ate 103 of them and kept them down -- one of the rules. He then ate a pizza on his way home to counteract any possible ill effects from that much sugar. And yes, he's still among the living.
The Peep Off doesn't have a lot of rules, and the ones it does have get modified on occasion. The first contests didn't permit the use of beverages to help wash the Peeps down. But now, contestants are permitted to drink Pabst beer, and teetotalers can use diet soda. No one remembers exactly why it has to be Pabst, but the basic idea is that it's not really helpful to the contestant.
The Peep Off -- one of dozens conducted annually across the country -- usually draws about 30 to 40 contestants and 20 to 30 observers, always at a private home. One year, the Sacramento police showed up after a rules debate led contestants to pelt each other with Peeps, some of which ended up on the neighbors' roofs (the Peeps not the contestants) and thus led said neighbors to call 911 and report a marshmallow riot.
Peace was soon restored to the neighborhood, although a few Peeps lingered on roofs until the return of the rainy season.
Smith doesn't himself care for Peeps.
"They are the gift you get in your Easter basket that you sort of blow off," Smith says.
He's at a loss to explain the popularity of the candy or the competition, although he seems to hit upon a given.
"If I had a Swedish Fish Off," Smith says, "I probably wouldn't get any publicity."
...you see? How charming he is? After all, I don't just sleep with ANYONE.
Lazy Sunday Blogrolling
April 16, 2006
I guess it's some sort of holiday or something. Well, OK, I KNOW this because I spent the morning coloring eggs with Coley. Not being a Christian-type...I haven't done this since I was, like 8 or something...but Coley was all into the idea of doing the easter egg hunt at church* today, so color eggs, we must!
Anyway, I'm going to spend the day surfing the internet, cleaning the house, making wonton soup, fiddling with last.fm (because I am fucking HOOKED) and maybe kicking Monk's ASS at Mario Kart Double Dash. Mwahahahaha. Oh, and fuck blogrolling! I just cleared out my one huge blogroll, and I'm not regathering blogs to link to. So, if I have never linked to you in the past, please let me know and if I think you are swell, I will add you to my shiny new fresh blogrolley thingy.
Here are the fruits of my linky labor:
Regarding the Lacrosse rape trial, Blac(k)ademic poses the question:
It is very disturbing that this case has become reminiscent of the O.J. trial where black "truth" is positioned in opposition to white "truth." If this were a team of men of color and another woman of color, would the media have given it this much attention? Would other bloggers have given it this much attention? No. Of course not–although I would hope otherwise, but that is the reality of this situation.
***
"It is the nature of financial journalism to glorify the powerful and the wealthy," Weiss said. "That's true in all journalism to a great extent. ... It has to the do with the pressures of the job, the pressures of advertising, although they are never spoken of as such. It is the nature of covering a beat where there are a lot of wealthy people. You tend to be hagiographic. Fear of lawsuits has increasingly become an issue. It discourages tough reporting. It has become a background issue. It's never spoken of. No one ever comes out and says -- we are afraid of lawsuits. It is never spoken. It is always in the distance. It's background noise. It's part of the culture."
***
RJ attempts to gleen some sort of logic from the "pro-life" movement:
Let's break that down Aristotle-style:1. Abortion is murdering a child
2. Abortion is OK if you were raped
3. Therefore, murdering a child is OK if you were raped.You got a problem with this? Huh? You got even the slightest moral scruple about killing children because of their parentage? Then you have three choices:
- Give up and admit that abortion is not murder, Or
- Write a letter to the editor explaining how it's just fine and dandy for first cousins to pull an Andrea Yates on their 8 year-old offspring, OR
- Admit proudly to the world that you think 12 year-old rape victims should be forced to bear their attackers' children.
Good luck with that, RJ. My mom always gave me good advice with regard to dealing with the mentally ill - don't try to understand them, it will only end up driving YOU crazy, too.
***
I'll be back with more later.
*There needs to be another word for the UU church. Like, maybe chUUrch, or something. I don't want anyone to get the impression that I'm all pious and shit all of a sudden. Yes...I go to church. No, I don't believe in an external god character.
ahhhhhh.
April 15, 2006
I managed to get a ton of work done today, thanks to M, who swooped in, grabbed my kids and my automobile, and took everyone to the Bengalese new year celebration. I spent the afternoon making (fucking) phone calls for the program I work for. Even thought the procedure surrounding the phone calls is a humongous pain in the ass, it's always nice to talk to our clients, and it's especially nice to get work done without interruption, knowing that the usual interruptioners are off having fun throwing rocks in a river.
They came home, only to leave again back to M's house for more fun. Which leaves me...finished with work! Listening to music! Really really appreciating the extra help this weekend.
ETA: M just called and said all of the kids are having a BLAST and that I shouldn't worry about coming to pick them up. I guess I'll start making my wonton soup I have been meaning to make all week. Loud music, good cooking, no kids...what a freaking treat!
I am so obsessed with last.fm
April 15, 2006
It's not even funny. Now I have endless scores of people to gush about music with. It's an amazing project. Wow. Thank you, creators of last.fm! If I ever meet you, I will make you soup!
I know! Let's punish the mama!
April 15, 2006
I had the absolutely most stupid interaction with a health insurance provider yesterday. I swear, my brain almost completely exploded. I was intending to write about it all day, but every time I thought about it, I had to go lay down for a minute to compose myself.
At any rate, here's the deal. Like most divorced parents, at least those who are fortunate enough to have some sort of health insurance, my children are insured under their father's plan. It's pretty standard procedure for the non-possessory parent to provide that, and I sort of pay for it through a subsequent reduction in my monthly child support (the cost of the insurance is subtracted from the ex's income before the percentage of his salary on which child support is figured is figured.)
I, as the possessory parent...you know, the one who actually has possession of the kids during the times that they would normally go to see a doctor...am equipped with some (evidently very useless) insurance cards.
So, yesterday I finally had the time to go about setting up a well check up for the boys. (Gah - thank maude it wasn't an emergency!) and I called the insurance company to find out who their primary care physician is (we aren't huge "go to the doctor for every ailment" people here...mostly I just want to get Monk a referral to his eye specialist, and why not make an appointment for Coley while I'm at it?) First of all, I'm directed to a website, which allows me to input all of the information before it politely informs me that children under the age of 18 are not allowed to use the online services.
Great.
So, then I call. And I get this lady who informs me that due to the new HIPAA laws, she's not allowed to discuss my children's plan with me, since I am not the policy holder.
I was pretty furious. I mean, I know it's not the phone ladies fault, but she was so freaking glib about the whole thing. "Can't you just call the father and ask HIM who the PCP is?" She said.
Well, yeah. I probably can. The ex and I aren't exactly best buddies, but he's never been a jerk about anything like this. However, I'm too busy being furious about all of the women out there who are so fucking thankful that at least the system provided them with the right to demand health insurance from their abusive ex-husbands, only to be told that they then need to turn around and try to get information from them. You know?
I'm pretty sure that's NOT what HIPAA was intended to do. But the lady on the phone seemed so gleeful about her ability to make my life more complicated. Like HA HA! How DARE you demand privacy rights! You want PRIVACY rights? We'll give YOU privacy! We'll privacy you right into a total clusterfuck!
So, yeah. For me, it really only took an email to get it set right. The ex is going to look into the matter on Monday and it's no big deal. But I know there are people out there for whom making a request of the ex is a tricky, if not downright fucking scary endeavor.
Gotta love our government. Gotta love the fucking healthcare industry. Woo! Go Patriarchy!
All aflutter
April 15, 2006
I don't want to say this out loud because a) I don't want my enthusiasm to be misinterpreted and b) I feel like I'm a huge nerd for being all excited about this and c) it hasn't actually come to fruition yet and because of various things, won't until a couple of weeks from now...BUT I have to say that I'm totally psyched to have found a friend who has similarish taste in music to me who likes to go on walks AND has a headset splitter so two people can listen to the same media player at the same time.
You don't even know how many walking hours I have spent wishing I could just have a partner in music along with me! Yay!
OK. That's all I have for today. But, shit! Isn't that ENOUGH! Last week, when I discovered my little friend had a splitter, we contemplated the idea that if we obtained enough splitters, we might possibly be able to plug everyone in the world into the same walkman and achieve world harmony through shared music.
Ha!
However, I think my friend is a little more outwardly cynical than that, in that adorable way true optimists develop in order to avoid getting their hopes dashed over and over again. I say fuck that! Dream out loud! You never know when you might get what you ask for! Like finding a nice, non ax-murderer person who likes walks and music.
Or something. What do I know, though. I barely know this person yet! But...Walks! Music! What more goodness could there possibly be?!
Yeah. I think it's time for me to go to sleep. I'm getting a bit loopy. I blame way too much time spent tagging music on last.fm, and watching Narnia with the kiddos & "in your face"ing Monk about all of the Christianity that overflows from that flick...he kept telling me there wasn't a damn thing Christian about it. IN YOUR FACE, MONK!
Anyway, ahem. Yeah. I think sleep is in order at this point.
The Art of Losing*
April 14, 2006
I'm in love with a house.
Every night, when I go on my walk, I pass this house in the neighborhood that is like a fucking advertisement for the American dream. It sits there on the corner, and the windows are always wide open so you can see the perfect, always spotless, showcase kitchen. Sometimes the occupants of the house will be watching movies on their projection screen that seems to roll up into the ceiling when not in use, and the lighting is always just right so you can see the shadows of people but never really the people themselves.
I sometimes wonder about this house, and the people who live there. Are they really real? Why is their kitchen always spotless, and why are they inviting me to look inside. I think, if I were to meet the owner of this house, I might consider fucking him or her, just so I could say I had sex inside of that house. Seriously. It's that gorgeous.
And yet, the conspicuousness of the house makes me suspicious. Why are you tempting me, house? Why are you beckoning me to look inside and to envy the things I don't have. I look inside and I think about my house, the shabby furniture in disrepair, and I think to myself, why can't I have a house like that?
See what I mean! It's like the house is a capitalist plot right on my walking route! Damn you, perfect house owners! Damn you for having such a conspicuously sexy abode!
OK, this was a really crappy post, but, seriously, listening to the Ex makes me think "What the fuck ever! I am so just a hack compared to these geniuses!" So, pretty much it doesn't matter what I write at this point, anyway. hahahahaha.
*I don't have the lyrics handy for this, but...seriously...if you've never listened to The Ex's LP Starters/Alternators, you are truly truly truly missing the musical/lyrical treat of a lifetime. It's just an incredible aural experience.
Love anarchy, love revolution
April 13, 2006
Lately, I've been having some really awesome conversations with a friend of mine who I've been friends with for awhile, but I feel like we've only just recently started to connect. Ironically, the connection coincided with the disconnection from another close friend...although I think it was brewing for awhile before that point.
This friend has always been intellectually wise beyond her years, but I've only recently discovered that she is also emotionally wise beyond her years. And the best part is that she's always seeking more wisdom. And I love seekers. I love emotional wisdom. I love to share.
At any rate, the other day we were talking about anarchism, and how so often people who claim to be anarchists want you to discuss tomes of anarchist theories that are unwieldy, frequently elitist, and almost always just plain not interesting to me. The existence of such people have, for most of my life, convinced me that I am not an anarchist. I wouldn't know Bakunin if he kissed me on the lips, and while I appreciate Noam Chomsky and all he has done, I just can't sit down with a book about theoretical anarchism and get behind it. Bits and pieces, yes. Pages and pages and chapters and chapters and book after book after book? No fucking way! Yawn!
My anarchy is an anarchy of the self. My anarchy involves observing every so-called instinct that I have, and the ways I react to situations, and really examining where my thoughts and feelings originate. My anarchy is an attempt to truly embody spiritual, emotional, and intellectual freedom. It's a process. It's about as impossible as achieving an actual anarchist state, but it doesn't require a fucking degree in philosophy...it just requires a degree in organic humanity - which is really truly getting to know people, and really truly loving them...in all of their naked flawful states and through all of their silly foibles and inadvertant wisdoms.
I've really been thinking about this a lot lately. Monk and I have been reading the Tao of Pooh, and Monk has indicated that he wishes to read the Tao te Ching next. This excites me. I remember my first exposure to a world outside of my own little sphere of existence happened in a stuffy classroom one summer. I was enrolled in a philosophy class through the talented and gifted program at my jr. high school. Someone shoved a copy of the Tao te Ching in my face, and I think it really shaped who I later was to become. I don't even think I understood half of it at the time. I don't think I was fully capable of abstract thougth. But I do know that it affected me deeply, and it still speaks to me to this day.
I also know that as I am reading this book to Monk, I am recognizing that I am truly becoming a Taoist. There are still times when I am a reactive human being, but more and more frequently I find myself flowing like a river, or like leaves in a tree when the wind is blowing. I don't hold on to things. I tend to right myself rather quickly. I notice that I don't tend to judge my reactions as much as observe and accept them, even when they might be considered "unhealthy" or "bad."
I'm really very pleased with where I am right now. My little personal revolution has thus far been a highly successful coup. I know it's just a battle that has been won on a whole peaceful war that must be waged...but I feel like I am truly on the right path for myself. And, with that knowledge, I can find my center whenever I am knocked off kilter by whatever external event that seeks to do so...and move forward...or sideways...or backwards...or whereever I need to move to be where I need to be at any given moment.
Thankyouthankyouthankyou.
ETA: One thing, too, that I should add to this is that I am really working on, and being largely successful with really accepting WHO I AM, flaws, foibles, wisdom, and all. I don't know if I read this somewhere or if I just made it up, but when I was just on the toilet, I thought "The path is not the sojourner, and the sojourner is not the path." Recognizing that, my next step is to understand and fully accept that of other people, as well. Which can be both easier and more difficult, depending on the situation, I guess.
I am the evil homeschooling overlord
April 13, 2006
mwahahahahahahaha.
So, Monk and I have been studying classification for science. And I hit upon the perfect multi-purpose project for him to complete at the end of the unit. He's going to rearrange the refrigerator, pantry, recycling, or pots and pans into some semblance of sensicalness.
Considering he is the one who puts away the groceries and the dishes, and frequently does so in that typical "I am a 9-year old, and I will just throw everything in all willy-nilly without any thought for useful order" fashion, I figure this will serve at least 4 different purposes.
Is that evil of me, or what?
Unfortunate Gender Assignment
April 13, 2006
Coley has been working really hard to learn how to use his new sneaker skates. He takes every opportunity to pop out his wheels and skate around. Today, I brought him to work with me, and he had this lament:
"Mom...I wish I had been born a girl."
"Why's that, Birdy?"
"Because then I could grow up and be a ROLLER girl!"
Last.FM
April 12, 2006
I have finally joined the Last.FM revolution. Please be my friend in music.
Near Perfect Days
April 11, 2006
I think, as much as I have enjoyed the company of my guest families over the past few months, I hadn't really taken into account how disruptive it is to have several thousand children in the house all of the time. These past few days here have been nearly perfect. I have been able to plan our week, and have had things go off without a hitch and with no disruptions or chaotic interventions.
Of course, the variable here is that I don't seem to be watching anyone else's kids these days. Due to some interesting developments in my work and social life, I have not had to rely on other people for childcare as much...and therefore I haven't had as many people relying on me. While it's nice to not have unplanned interruptions during the day, I think I can bear to have one or two playdates a week in the house without messing the schedule up entirely. It's something I want to work on...making sure people know that I am available...and WHEN I am available.
That said, I'm really happy with the little rhythm we have going lately. The daily rhythm is gentle and fluid, and our weekly rhythm involves a really good balance of inside the house/outside the house time...as well as plenty of time to keep the place somewhat neat and organized, and to keep us engaged in learning activities all day long, whether I am facilitating those activities or not. Plus there's just more face time with my kids. I can have conversations with them, and truly hear what THEY have to say, without anyone interrupting or battling for inclusion.
It's nice. I want to say that I prefer to live collectively...that the experience of having multiple families/children in this house proved to be a really desirable situation. I can't say that it COULDN'T be, but I think in the end there needs to be a lot more commitment and planning and desire to make it work long-term than could have been feasibly nurtured in the limited time I had with the families I shared this home with. I want to blame that, or space, or perhaps even compatibility to some extent. Either way, whatever the reason, I'm totally content in this house without other children living here. I might try it again...and in an emergency, I WOULD do it again...but for right now I don't think I want to mess with that balance.
What the 9-year old knows about immigration reform
April 11, 2006
Since I'm a total goob and missed the Day of Action entirely, I figured the very least I could do was read some news stories about the important events of the last couple of days to the children as our morning circle reading material. I read this one first:
The crowds at many of the protests also cheered speakers who denounced a system that has driven more than 11 million illegal immigrants into shadowy lives of subterfuge, and who called for a new deal that would extend basic rights to them and a chance of eventual citizenship. Organizers said the protests would not stop until Congress passed laws to improve their lives.Much of the anger yesterday and at the protests in recent weeks was directed at a bill passed by the House of Representatives last December. It would have authorized a 700-mile fence along the Mexican border; raised the crime of illegal immigration to a felony; and criminalized giving assistance, including food and water, to illegal immigrants.
After I read that article, I went to move on to another. Monk stopped me. "I get the picture, mom," he said.
"OK," I replied. "What do you think?"
That's a scary question for a parent. Asking what your child thinks, especially when at least attempting to run somewhat of an egalitarian household, opens you up to a world of shit. I want to support and encourage their honest opinions, but there is always a part of me that wants to guide the thoughts into "correctness."
Thankfully, Monk has played enough computer-simulated war games to know where it's at.
"I think that people should just be checked over briefly to make sure they aren't criminals, then we should exchange their money, then maybe offer some basic english classes, and that's it."
At that point, I attempted to play devil's advocate with him, but he stood firm. "Like the article said, mom...we're all immigrants."
I asked him what he thought of borders, and he said that borders were too much work (!) (my little anarchist!) and that they only served a purpose during war. So I asked him if maybe he thought borders might CAUSE war.
He said Yes.
"One time, when I was playing Civilization IV, Ghandi and I were always at war over our borders because I wanted to maintain my territory, and Ghandi wanted to expand. It was never ending. Borders are dumb. People should live where they want to."
DMBQ Video
April 11, 2006
I finally found a video that seems to really bring the DMBQ experience fairly accurately to a tiny little screen on your computer. Are you ready for this?
oh, and here's a video of the drum set destruction at sxsw...but I'm not sure when this happens. I don't know if it's an effect that makes it appear to be at night, but either this happened at the FXFY show, which was in the daytime, or it happened at yet another DMBQ performance that I didn't know about.
Body Image: Anorexia v. Obesity
April 10, 2006
What is my deal with titles lately? That one sounds like a Dateline special.
Really, I just wanted to link up this post on Feministe by Piny. I had really never thought about what Piny posits there...that there is a double standard in how health is measured in the context of the two eating disorders. Generally, anorexia is measured by death rate, and obesity is measured by a size/acceptability rate. There is not really a health-based measurement on either end of the spectrum. If you are fat, you are automatically unhealthy...if you are thin, you are generally not deemed to be unhealthy unless you are dead.
Wow. That kind of stopped me in my tracks today. There's more conversation about it here and here. And I actually wanted to link up this post by that smarty-pants, Stent