Well, I went back and forth about what to do about ol' LoveGreg. Your comments were very helpful, and by "helpful," I mean "evilly amusing." I composed various replies in my head, ranging from very-polite-and-likely-to-send to downright-mean-and-unlikely-to-send. I thought about just blocking him and forfeiting any future potential blog fodder, as well as failing to Teach Him A Lesson (I'm assuming that Facebook doesn't notify the other party they've been blocked...anyone know if this is correct?). Seeking further inspiration, I opened my inbox and noted that his profile picture had been changed from Ed Burns back to LoveGreg. So I checked out his page--well, what the privacy settings would allow me to see, anyway, and was momentarily filled with doubt. You can see the pages of which he is a fan, and...they gave me pause. The Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender, Straight Alliance. The local ACLU. Lots of theatre companies. Eddie Izzard.
He...he likes Glee, people.
Suddenly I was flummoxed, seeing him as a real person instead of just the twerp from my memory. LoveGreg wasn't popular in high school, either (have I mentioned that I was not? I wasn't. We'll get to that another day); in fact, he was roundly teased for being a male soprano, among other things. Maybe I'm overreacting about this whole photo-in-the-shower thing. I mean, he didn't act alone, and perhaps that was his desperate attempt to get in good with the older, cool guys. (And it should be noted here that this was a choir field trip, so "cool" is absolutely relative.) What if he was just trying to avoid being a Charles Wu?
I worked myself up into quite the guilty froth over this, but eventually came back to these points:
1) I haven't actually done anything to him. I've ignored his e-mails, but clearly that hasn't damaged his confidence at all. Ahem.
2) Even if all of the above is true, that doesn't mean I have to like him or even want to get to know him. I can forgive him for what he did and still want to clap my hands briskly to dismiss him. And that's OK, too.
So, for now, I've decided to continue to ignore his e-mails. My plan isn't to block him yet, though, because a) while he is being creepy, I'm not feeling threatened or even bothered by these e-mails. Incredulous, yes, but not truly annoyed, and b) as Naptime pointed out, I am a bit curious just to see how far he'll go. Does he, in fact, have some sort of spreadsheet of everyone he ever knew (or, hopefully not, everyone he ever snapped a picture of in the shower against their will, speaking of creepy)? I mean, there is a certain ambiguity to the language. There's nothing about me at all, only about him, so he could just be sending these out periodically to anyone and everyone. He does have something like 892 "friends" on Facebook, so it seems like he is in the habit of...collecting people.
I'm...not making him sound less creepy, am I?
(As a side note, Naptime mentioned timing how long a telemarketer would hold before finally hanging up. I have a friend who has elevated this pastime into a fine art. She actually looks forward to telemarketers calling so that she can say things like, "You know, I'd really like to hear this, but he's starting to come to and if those ropes come loose, there's gonna be trouble." She also pretends to be a little kid: "Hello?" "Hi, can I talk to--" "Hello?" "Yes, I'm looking for--" "Hello?" Or she holds the phone up for her dogs to sniff enthusiastically, or she launches into a monologue about her day. I've seen this myself, but I am also quite confident that she does it whether or not there are witnesses.)
Anyway, I've decided for now to maintain the status quo. He may well be a reformed, non-shower-invading upright citizen now, one who supports the arts and rescues injured kittens on his days off from working at the orphanage. Meh. I still have no interest in knowing him, not when there are people like you all, people who write brilliantly with wit and pathos and charm (as opposed to with creepy over-familiarity and poor comma usage) who I could be getting to know instead. But I will put to rest the fantasy of writing a nasty, guilt-inducing smackdown letter in reply.
I still, however, reserve the right to use my sister's. Just in case.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Friday, January 29, 2010
Love Greg. LOVE HIM!!!
Oh ho ho, my friends.
Greg is back.
In my Facebook inbox this week:
Hey,
How are you? Hope all is well. Anxious to catch up with you. I have thought of you many times through the years. By the way, in case you don't recognize the name or the picture, it is Greg ______ and that is NOT a picture of me. It is Ed Burns. Hope to hear from you soon.
Love Greg
I couldn't make this shit up. Not even as a desperate ploy for a blog topic (I recently received my sister's blessing tosteal mercilessly quote from her, and therefore have access to all kinds of brilliance. All she needs now is an alias, and an utter lack of desire to write her own blog and steal all of you away from me, and we're set for all kinds of sister-related hilarity. So I didn't need this particular bit of weirdness, although once I read it, I couldn't wait to share it with you all).
Now, class, can anyone tell me what is creepy about this e-mail? That's right: EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS E-MAIL IS CREEPY. Not the least of which is the fact that it's the fourth freaking e-mail he has sent. Also? The omitted comma in "Love Greg" makes it sound more like a command than a closing. Also? I know that there's a Facebook game about changing your profile picture to a celebrity, but would you choose the week you use a different photo as the best time to try tostalk reconnect with someone? Also, FOURTH E-MAIL. WITH NO ENCOURAGEMENT FROM ME.
Now, I believe there is some way to "block" someone on Facebook, which is probably what I should do. However, as far as I know, that will basically have the same effect as ignoring him, but without the added bonus of possible blog fodder. I suppose it is cruel to want to write a response to him solely so that I can share his response with you guys, and not much kinder to want to write a response just to point out how terribly, terribly weird it is that he keeps writing to me.
And writing to me without acknowledging the previous e-mails that I've ignored. Does that seem odd to you? And by "odd," I mean, "clamoring for a righteous reply quashing any possible hope of future friendship as well as illustrating current inappropriateness."
So. You tell me. Are we beating a dead horse here? Shall I just block him and have done with it? Or shall I write to him, politely but firmly asking him what the hell he is thinking and is he perhaps on drugs and also I am married and my husband is a giant 'roid-raging cop. With a gun. Or perhaps that I'm a giant 'roid-raging cop.
God, I hope I'm not blowing my chance with Edward Burns.
Greg is back.
In my Facebook inbox this week:
Hey,
How are you? Hope all is well. Anxious to catch up with you. I have thought of you many times through the years. By the way, in case you don't recognize the name or the picture, it is Greg ______ and that is NOT a picture of me. It is Ed Burns. Hope to hear from you soon.
Love Greg
I couldn't make this shit up. Not even as a desperate ploy for a blog topic (I recently received my sister's blessing to
Now, class, can anyone tell me what is creepy about this e-mail? That's right: EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS E-MAIL IS CREEPY. Not the least of which is the fact that it's the fourth freaking e-mail he has sent. Also? The omitted comma in "Love Greg" makes it sound more like a command than a closing. Also? I know that there's a Facebook game about changing your profile picture to a celebrity, but would you choose the week you use a different photo as the best time to try to
Now, I believe there is some way to "block" someone on Facebook, which is probably what I should do. However, as far as I know, that will basically have the same effect as ignoring him, but without the added bonus of possible blog fodder. I suppose it is cruel to want to write a response to him solely so that I can share his response with you guys, and not much kinder to want to write a response just to point out how terribly, terribly weird it is that he keeps writing to me.
And writing to me without acknowledging the previous e-mails that I've ignored. Does that seem odd to you? And by "odd," I mean, "clamoring for a righteous reply quashing any possible hope of future friendship as well as illustrating current inappropriateness."
So. You tell me. Are we beating a dead horse here? Shall I just block him and have done with it? Or shall I write to him, politely but firmly asking him what the hell he is thinking and is he perhaps on drugs and also I am married and my husband is a giant 'roid-raging cop. With a gun. Or perhaps that I'm a giant 'roid-raging cop.
God, I hope I'm not blowing my chance with Edward Burns.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
If Only Jack Had Invoked This Rule
So, I think I've mentioned that I really love my job. Some parts are really frustrating (see: today's home visit where I was trying to talk to mom about her concerns about her 5-year-old's behavior while he was upstairs playing Halo on Xbox, occasionally coming down to tell us about how he "shot that guy right in the balls"), or sad (my second home visit, to see a 4-month-old who was exposed to meth and alcohol prenatally), but other parts are delightful (said 4-month-old is actually doing quite well, considering, and gave me gummy smiles).
And sometimes? My job is absurdly awesome.
My classroom is in an elementary school, and the older kids had recently made posters about school rules that were then displayed in the halls. Yesterday, a not-quite-five-year-old looked at one and said to me, "This says 'no yelling.'" He was right. When his mom came to pick him up, I told her about it, because I sure didn't know that this kiddo was either recognizing words or interpreting pictures. She was surprised as well, so we went back to the picture and I asked him, "What does this say?" He examined the picture closely, pointed his little finger and said, "No...yelling...giants."
Well, actually, that's pretty close...
I notice he didn't address the disembodied feet, nor did he interject the word "hydrocephalic" before "giants," but he is only five.
And sometimes? My job is absurdly awesome.
My classroom is in an elementary school, and the older kids had recently made posters about school rules that were then displayed in the halls. Yesterday, a not-quite-five-year-old looked at one and said to me, "This says 'no yelling.'" He was right. When his mom came to pick him up, I told her about it, because I sure didn't know that this kiddo was either recognizing words or interpreting pictures. She was surprised as well, so we went back to the picture and I asked him, "What does this say?" He examined the picture closely, pointed his little finger and said, "No...yelling...giants."
Well, actually, that's pretty close...
I notice he didn't address the disembodied feet, nor did he interject the word "hydrocephalic" before "giants," but he is only five.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Longer Out than In
Some friends came by today with their daughter, who is exactly one month and one day older than Tankbaby (she is, however, about ten pounds lighter, not having been exposed to whatever superpower-giving radiation I accidentally breathed in). A and I reminisced wonderingly about where we were one year ago, with our giant bellies and approaching due dates and complete inability to imagine a year in the future. Which is today, when both babies were crawling around my house, babbling away, as Anne Lamott says, in their native Latvian, and daring each other to crawl into the open dishwasher.
My friends (both women) have only a month's more experience parenting than I do, but they seem to have their shit more together. They used to go to yoga together, so now they cycle, where A does the 7:30 class and K does the 9:00, handing their daughter off between them. K is back with her voice lessons and planning a trip to India this fall with the teacher. They travel, they make plans, they have this life with a baby that seems like their old life, but now with added cuteness and a diaper.
Me, on the other hand...I feel like I'm just now, after more than 10 months, figuring out how to have a baby and function. Things like dinners and shopping and showers were, not that long ago, cause for a damn ticker-tape parade if they were accomplished without tears on someone's part. I am finally starting to feel more even-keeled, able to think about a new sewing project or seeing a friend's show with a mere eye-rolling "How am I going to do this with a baby?" pondering, versus a garment-rending "HOW THE FUCK AM I GOING TO DO THIS WITH A BABY IT'LL NEVER WORK GIVE UP NOW I'D TURN BACK IF I WERE YOU" panic.
The child development professional in me points out that, while he may have the meatiest thighs in all the land, our beloved boy has not been the easiest baby, especially for the first six months. He doesn't sleep well, long, often, or solo. He wants to be carried and cuddled, except when he doesn't, in which case he wants you RIGHTHERE to watch. He is now smiley and friendly and fairly easy to soothe, but for a while, he was equal parts baby and time bomb, and my whole brain tended to be devoted to some bizarre algebra where x=minutes since last feeding and y=likelihood of him falling asleep and z=probability of needing a diaper change just as you try to go somewhere and by the way you do realize that you haven't brushed your own hair or teeth today, right? That professional points out that this is just who my baby is, and I did the best I could and the fact that all of us have come out of the other side means I did enough.
I get that. I do. But I think about how difficult I've found this (and by "this," I don't mean mothering, because--despite my anxiety-fueled-late-night-pregnancy-freakouts--I did fall pretty immediately in love with this tiny creature...although that might be because he DID sleep for those first few days, ahem) (wow, parentheses, em dashes, and an ellipse? Holy Fragments, Batman!)...where was I? Right. What I've struggled with is how to be the parent I want to be and still have enough of me left over to be the person I want to be. And I think about what I haven't done and what I wish I'd done differently and dear Lord, how does anyone ever do this with more than one kid?!
For now, I'm trying to be patient with myself. It hasn't even been a year yet. I'm cooking more. I'm teaching a class. I'm planning a trip to see a friend. I'm writing here. I'm beginning to be able to look at the future in weeks and months, rather than just getting through the next diaper change. Best of all, I'm really and truly enjoying (almost) every minute with my baby, and feeling, for the first time in a year, like I can start to relax.
I'm running out of steam here and now just want to go to bed and cuddle with my (miraculously) sleeping boy. Remind me of these warm gooey feelings when he decides at 2 AM that the first two feedings of the night didn't take. Or when I'm trying to convince him that it's naptime and he is, as MOTH puts it, "crawling around like a crazed badger on a sugar high with his hair on fire." I'll leave you with that image.
My friends (both women) have only a month's more experience parenting than I do, but they seem to have their shit more together. They used to go to yoga together, so now they cycle, where A does the 7:30 class and K does the 9:00, handing their daughter off between them. K is back with her voice lessons and planning a trip to India this fall with the teacher. They travel, they make plans, they have this life with a baby that seems like their old life, but now with added cuteness and a diaper.
Me, on the other hand...I feel like I'm just now, after more than 10 months, figuring out how to have a baby and function. Things like dinners and shopping and showers were, not that long ago, cause for a damn ticker-tape parade if they were accomplished without tears on someone's part. I am finally starting to feel more even-keeled, able to think about a new sewing project or seeing a friend's show with a mere eye-rolling "How am I going to do this with a baby?" pondering, versus a garment-rending "HOW THE FUCK AM I GOING TO DO THIS WITH A BABY IT'LL NEVER WORK GIVE UP NOW I'D TURN BACK IF I WERE YOU" panic.
The child development professional in me points out that, while he may have the meatiest thighs in all the land, our beloved boy has not been the easiest baby, especially for the first six months. He doesn't sleep well, long, often, or solo. He wants to be carried and cuddled, except when he doesn't, in which case he wants you RIGHTHERE to watch. He is now smiley and friendly and fairly easy to soothe, but for a while, he was equal parts baby and time bomb, and my whole brain tended to be devoted to some bizarre algebra where x=minutes since last feeding and y=likelihood of him falling asleep and z=probability of needing a diaper change just as you try to go somewhere and by the way you do realize that you haven't brushed your own hair or teeth today, right? That professional points out that this is just who my baby is, and I did the best I could and the fact that all of us have come out of the other side means I did enough.
I get that. I do. But I think about how difficult I've found this (and by "this," I don't mean mothering, because--despite my anxiety-fueled-late-night-pregnancy-freakouts--I did fall pretty immediately in love with this tiny creature...although that might be because he DID sleep for those first few days, ahem) (wow, parentheses, em dashes, and an ellipse? Holy Fragments, Batman!)...where was I? Right. What I've struggled with is how to be the parent I want to be and still have enough of me left over to be the person I want to be. And I think about what I haven't done and what I wish I'd done differently and dear Lord, how does anyone ever do this with more than one kid?!
For now, I'm trying to be patient with myself. It hasn't even been a year yet. I'm cooking more. I'm teaching a class. I'm planning a trip to see a friend. I'm writing here. I'm beginning to be able to look at the future in weeks and months, rather than just getting through the next diaper change. Best of all, I'm really and truly enjoying (almost) every minute with my baby, and feeling, for the first time in a year, like I can start to relax.
I'm running out of steam here and now just want to go to bed and cuddle with my (miraculously) sleeping boy. Remind me of these warm gooey feelings when he decides at 2 AM that the first two feedings of the night didn't take. Or when I'm trying to convince him that it's naptime and he is, as MOTH puts it, "crawling around like a crazed badger on a sugar high with his hair on fire." I'll leave you with that image.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Happiness Is... (think Beatles, not Precious Moments)
We had an interesting discussion today at work among my colleagues who also teach kids with social/emotional/behavioral issues (most of them using Positive Discipline, the method I mentioned a few days ago). What do you when kids play guns at school?
I generally have a (outwardly) nonjudgmental, but firm "no guns at school" rule. Why? "Because they're not safe." "But it's just a pretend gun!" "Yeah, but guns scare me, so I don't even like pretending."
Not a terribly unique way of handling things, I admit. Basic Standard Liberal Hippie Teacher Procedure.
Another teacher said that he used to do the same thing, plus have rules about no toy weapons from home, etc., etc. He used to redirect kids during any sort of shoot-em-up play. But he eventually got tired of constantly monitoring these kids' play so that he can nip it in the bud. Plus, as others pointed out, it seems to be unending. Kids (and, for a myriad of reasons that can be debated, especially boy-type kids) play imaginary guns. You can limit their exposure, you can watch their playmates, you can monitor their TV time, and little boys will still point a stick at someone and say "blam." And the other guy falls down, then gets up and shoots you and you fall down. Then you all get up and go play something else. Probably something loud and possibly equally violent, maybe involving that apple juice that you've already had enough of today, mister. And the world goes on, no harm, no foul.
And that's the typical kids, kids from functional homes with parents who provide adequate supervision. Then you get our kids, the ones who already have such screwy ideas about how the world works, and whose parents have some ideas that are screwy in their own right. One of the kids in my class has been talking about zombies, blood, and shooting his friends at school. He's four. He told us all about this video game called Call of Duty (my assistant muttered that her 19-year-old son had nightmares after his first time playing it). I called the mom, who said that the kid wasn't playing it, but that he was sometime around as she and her brother-in-law played it. Then she said, wonderingly, that the kid seemed more anxious at night and was wanting the light on all the time...sigh. The next time he came to school, he was upset because he'd rather be at home, playing Halo on his Xbox. So for this kid, this four-year-old for whom violent video games are something he does for fun and something his mom and uncle do for fun...what does he think when I give him the message that he, his mom, and his uncle are wrong?
For all of these reasons, my colleague said that he's adopted a different philosophy about this lately. He still says no toy guns, no weapon toys from home, but if kids insist on playing shooting games, he insists that they engage in a conversation with him about how the games will be played. He then leads them through a discussion where they come up with rules (a big part of Positive Discipline is the idea that kids are more motivated to cooperate if they are involved in the process of making rules) like, "No shooting someone who's not playing the game." And, if they break the rules they've agreed to, then that's it for the game for the day.
I dunno. I have a pretty strong reaction to seeing little kids shoot each other. But is that just my own liberal hippiness making me a Judgy McJudgerton? Or am I just seeing it in the context of today's world? Would I be bothered by a film of kids from the 50s playing Cowboys and Indians? And while I do think it's different for my kids, kids who tend to be emotionally volatile to begin with, what right do I have to tell them they can't play a certain way?
Of course, all of our thinking and philosophizing has nothing on a kid's simple reasoning skills. Earlier this week, a kid was pointing his fingers like a gun and shooting at things. I gave him my "no guns at school" rap, but he wasn't convinced:
Kid: "But I want to play hide and shoot them."
Me: "I get that, but we don't allow guns at school. You could still hide and maybe use something else."
Kid: "Like what?"
Me: "A lasso? A laser?"
Kid (looks at his hand, still crooked into "gun" pose): "I don't have a laser."
Me: *facepalm*
I generally have a (outwardly) nonjudgmental, but firm "no guns at school" rule. Why? "Because they're not safe." "But it's just a pretend gun!" "Yeah, but guns scare me, so I don't even like pretending."
Not a terribly unique way of handling things, I admit. Basic Standard Liberal Hippie Teacher Procedure.
Another teacher said that he used to do the same thing, plus have rules about no toy weapons from home, etc., etc. He used to redirect kids during any sort of shoot-em-up play. But he eventually got tired of constantly monitoring these kids' play so that he can nip it in the bud. Plus, as others pointed out, it seems to be unending. Kids (and, for a myriad of reasons that can be debated, especially boy-type kids) play imaginary guns. You can limit their exposure, you can watch their playmates, you can monitor their TV time, and little boys will still point a stick at someone and say "blam." And the other guy falls down, then gets up and shoots you and you fall down. Then you all get up and go play something else. Probably something loud and possibly equally violent, maybe involving that apple juice that you've already had enough of today, mister. And the world goes on, no harm, no foul.
And that's the typical kids, kids from functional homes with parents who provide adequate supervision. Then you get our kids, the ones who already have such screwy ideas about how the world works, and whose parents have some ideas that are screwy in their own right. One of the kids in my class has been talking about zombies, blood, and shooting his friends at school. He's four. He told us all about this video game called Call of Duty (my assistant muttered that her 19-year-old son had nightmares after his first time playing it). I called the mom, who said that the kid wasn't playing it, but that he was sometime around as she and her brother-in-law played it. Then she said, wonderingly, that the kid seemed more anxious at night and was wanting the light on all the time...sigh. The next time he came to school, he was upset because he'd rather be at home, playing Halo on his Xbox. So for this kid, this four-year-old for whom violent video games are something he does for fun and something his mom and uncle do for fun...what does he think when I give him the message that he, his mom, and his uncle are wrong?
For all of these reasons, my colleague said that he's adopted a different philosophy about this lately. He still says no toy guns, no weapon toys from home, but if kids insist on playing shooting games, he insists that they engage in a conversation with him about how the games will be played. He then leads them through a discussion where they come up with rules (a big part of Positive Discipline is the idea that kids are more motivated to cooperate if they are involved in the process of making rules) like, "No shooting someone who's not playing the game." And, if they break the rules they've agreed to, then that's it for the game for the day.
I dunno. I have a pretty strong reaction to seeing little kids shoot each other. But is that just my own liberal hippiness making me a Judgy McJudgerton? Or am I just seeing it in the context of today's world? Would I be bothered by a film of kids from the 50s playing Cowboys and Indians? And while I do think it's different for my kids, kids who tend to be emotionally volatile to begin with, what right do I have to tell them they can't play a certain way?
Of course, all of our thinking and philosophizing has nothing on a kid's simple reasoning skills. Earlier this week, a kid was pointing his fingers like a gun and shooting at things. I gave him my "no guns at school" rap, but he wasn't convinced:
Kid: "But I want to play hide and shoot them."
Me: "I get that, but we don't allow guns at school. You could still hide and maybe use something else."
Kid: "Like what?"
Me: "A lasso? A laser?"
Kid (looks at his hand, still crooked into "gun" pose): "I don't have a laser."
Me: *facepalm*
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Attention, Googlers...
I'm going to just pass along a little bit of absurdity from my life to yours.
For a reason I can't quite remember right now, I was struck with an impulsive need to learn more about the movie Dead Calm. I went to imdb.com like a good little internet monkey, and confirmed that yes, that was Nicole Kidman on the movie poster, back when she looked...more human. Not that she's not gorgeous now, but--whether it's plastic surgery or magical unicorn placenta creams or what--this was when she had an earthy beauty rather than...a waxen sheen, let's say.
Anyway, because I'd never seen the movie, I clicked on the plot synopsis out of idle curiosity. Go ahead and check it out; I'll wait.
(whistles innocently)
I KNOW!!!!
"Rae begins to quiver and close her eyes in a pleasing fashion"? And later, she "firmly wraps her arms and legs around Hughie and readies herself for sex"? Is it just me, or is this synopsis more like, well, porn? Vaguely ESL porn?
I mean, I haven't seen the movie, so I dunno...maybe this sex scene was really amazing and you got to see naughty bits and everything, but...really? Don't get me wrong, this isn't a moral outrage, it's just...organizational prudishness. If you want to write erotica, go write erotica, but leave poor imdb.com alone. Think of the children! (I don't know what I mean by that, but it seems to be a good catch-all argument in cases like this.) Also, maybe go read some good erotica for some examples of better verbs than "mount" to describe human sex.
I tried to find other synopses by the same writers, but failed. I was curious if this was how they handled other movies (Jurassic Park: "...the Velociraptor's heart pounds beneath her ample, scaly breasts as the T Rex stands erect, his eyes gleaming with lust..."), or if this was a one-night stand. I shudder to think what they might write about, say, Basic Instinct (whose summary, actually, is quite factual and not at all titillating).
I gotta go wash out my eyes now.
(Hee...I got distracted in the middle of writing earlier and almost linked you to this instead, which is a great recipe from a great writer and has nothing to do with porn. Except maybe food porn.)
For a reason I can't quite remember right now, I was struck with an impulsive need to learn more about the movie Dead Calm. I went to imdb.com like a good little internet monkey, and confirmed that yes, that was Nicole Kidman on the movie poster, back when she looked...more human. Not that she's not gorgeous now, but--whether it's plastic surgery or magical unicorn placenta creams or what--this was when she had an earthy beauty rather than...a waxen sheen, let's say.
Anyway, because I'd never seen the movie, I clicked on the plot synopsis out of idle curiosity. Go ahead and check it out; I'll wait.
(whistles innocently)
I KNOW!!!!
"Rae begins to quiver and close her eyes in a pleasing fashion"? And later, she "firmly wraps her arms and legs around Hughie and readies herself for sex"? Is it just me, or is this synopsis more like, well, porn? Vaguely ESL porn?
I mean, I haven't seen the movie, so I dunno...maybe this sex scene was really amazing and you got to see naughty bits and everything, but...really? Don't get me wrong, this isn't a moral outrage, it's just...organizational prudishness. If you want to write erotica, go write erotica, but leave poor imdb.com alone. Think of the children! (I don't know what I mean by that, but it seems to be a good catch-all argument in cases like this.) Also, maybe go read some good erotica for some examples of better verbs than "mount" to describe human sex.
I tried to find other synopses by the same writers, but failed. I was curious if this was how they handled other movies (Jurassic Park: "...the Velociraptor's heart pounds beneath her ample, scaly breasts as the T Rex stands erect, his eyes gleaming with lust..."), or if this was a one-night stand. I shudder to think what they might write about, say, Basic Instinct (whose summary, actually, is quite factual and not at all titillating).
I gotta go wash out my eyes now.
(Hee...I got distracted in the middle of writing earlier and almost linked you to this instead, which is a great recipe from a great writer and has nothing to do with porn. Except maybe food porn.)
Sunday, January 17, 2010
In Which I Manage to Sneak a Karate Kid Reference in the Middle of a Parenting Philosophy Discussion
I'm about to start teaching a parenting class through work. It's called Positive Discipline and is based on a book written by Jane Nelson. It's the method that we use at work with our social/emotional/behavior kids and I. Freaking. Love. It. So much so that it is tempting for me to go off on some evangelical rant here about it, but I'll try to just outline the basics enough to be making sense here.
(Side note: ARGH. You know how, when you're trying to make a point, and some history or backstory is necessary for that point to be understood, so you edit, but even as you edit you're thinking, "But what about--?" Let's be kind and say that minimalism is not my strong suit, so bear with me here...)
The belief behind Positive Discipline is that all kids--well, all people, really--are driven by a desire for belonging and significance. That is, we all want to connect with others and feel like we matter. Simple, huh? OK, so the next idea is that children's misbehaviors are really misunderstood (by them and by adults) attempts at those two things. Still with me? Now it gets interesting: according to this model, punishments and rewards are only short-term solutions that may temporarily modify behaviors, but don't actually help the child reach either of those goals, and so aren't effective long-term. Or, they may be effective, but they teach the wrong things (e.g., doing homework to avoid punishment, rather than as a way to learn). So instead, misbehaviors are seen as mistaken beliefs (about how the world works), and the focus is on solutions to problems and teaching children the values we want them to learn long-term, rather than on simply extinguishing behaviors.
Have I oversimplified this? Vastly. There's a lot more to it than that, but what is on my mind lately is the PD theory on praise. Positive Discipline doesn't encourage praise. But wait, you say, isn't praise a good thing? Well, sort of. The thinking is that it's like candy--OK in small doses, but not as a steady diet. Instead of praise, PD advocates encouragement. Sounds like a matter of semantics, I know. The difference is that praise tends to express approval and judgment, whereas encouragement inspires, stimulates, and promotes. The locus of control in praise is external, versus encouragement, where it's internal.
Say, for example, that a kid brings over their finished painting. Praise would be, "You are such a good painter. I like the way you painted this house." Encouragement would be, "Thanks for sharing this with me. What is your favorite thing in the picture?" You get the idea--basically, if you can imagine Yoda or Mr. Miyagi saying it, it's probably encouragement.
When you teach this lesson in the class, you do a little role-play where you have one person receive praise statements like "You're such a good girl" and "I'm so proud of you" while the other person receives encouraging statements like "I love you no matter what" and "You must be proud of yourself." Usually, the person who receives the praise feels good at first, until they hear the other person's encouraging statements.
The first time I saw this exercise, I was quietly embarrassed. Because, while I totally got the point, I recognized that I still wanted the praise. Growing up, I was the quintessential Good Kid, and I got a lot of praise for that. And I loved it. I became what Nelson calls an "approval junkie." It wasn't enough if I liked what I had done, I needed someone else to like it, too.
Ahem. Dig me, using the past tense, as if this is no longer true.
I still really struggle with this, with looking inward rather than to others for validation. It makes MOTH crazy, because, as the person in nearest proximity, he is often who I turn to. Which makes me crazy, because he--being the opposite of an approval junkie--doesn't want me to need that approval, so he grants it grudgingly, which of course, doesn't count. And then I get frustrated because a) I know that I shouldn't need it, but b) I do, and you know it, so how's about we make with the praise, please?!
As Tankbaby becomes a Tanktoddler, I know that parenting is going to undergo a shift as well, from The Basics (provide love, food, shelter, safety) to Advanced (all of the above, plus Shaping Human Being). I hope that I can do as good a job as my parents did (oops...I mean that as a compliment to my parents, not to myself, though I can see how it could read that way...), plus make a few adjustments. One of those is not to create an approval junkie. But I also don't want him to go so far in the other direction that he doesn't care at all what other people think. I do think that independence can go too far and become isolation. MOTH is fiercely independent, and while I find it admirable, I also am driven batty by the fact that I often feel like he doesn't think about how it feels to be someone else. As I've said to him, "It's great that you don't care what anybody thinks, but sometimes that feels to me like you don't care what I think." (He reassures me that he does, of course.)
I'm sure that, with two parental extremes, we can reach a nice healthy middle ground for our boy, right? Oh, and without much conflict between the parents, if that's not too much to ask.
Also, I'd like a pony. That flies.
(Side note: ARGH. You know how, when you're trying to make a point, and some history or backstory is necessary for that point to be understood, so you edit, but even as you edit you're thinking, "But what about--?" Let's be kind and say that minimalism is not my strong suit, so bear with me here...)
The belief behind Positive Discipline is that all kids--well, all people, really--are driven by a desire for belonging and significance. That is, we all want to connect with others and feel like we matter. Simple, huh? OK, so the next idea is that children's misbehaviors are really misunderstood (by them and by adults) attempts at those two things. Still with me? Now it gets interesting: according to this model, punishments and rewards are only short-term solutions that may temporarily modify behaviors, but don't actually help the child reach either of those goals, and so aren't effective long-term. Or, they may be effective, but they teach the wrong things (e.g., doing homework to avoid punishment, rather than as a way to learn). So instead, misbehaviors are seen as mistaken beliefs (about how the world works), and the focus is on solutions to problems and teaching children the values we want them to learn long-term, rather than on simply extinguishing behaviors.
Have I oversimplified this? Vastly. There's a lot more to it than that, but what is on my mind lately is the PD theory on praise. Positive Discipline doesn't encourage praise. But wait, you say, isn't praise a good thing? Well, sort of. The thinking is that it's like candy--OK in small doses, but not as a steady diet. Instead of praise, PD advocates encouragement. Sounds like a matter of semantics, I know. The difference is that praise tends to express approval and judgment, whereas encouragement inspires, stimulates, and promotes. The locus of control in praise is external, versus encouragement, where it's internal.
Say, for example, that a kid brings over their finished painting. Praise would be, "You are such a good painter. I like the way you painted this house." Encouragement would be, "Thanks for sharing this with me. What is your favorite thing in the picture?" You get the idea--basically, if you can imagine Yoda or Mr. Miyagi saying it, it's probably encouragement.
When you teach this lesson in the class, you do a little role-play where you have one person receive praise statements like "You're such a good girl" and "I'm so proud of you" while the other person receives encouraging statements like "I love you no matter what" and "You must be proud of yourself." Usually, the person who receives the praise feels good at first, until they hear the other person's encouraging statements.
The first time I saw this exercise, I was quietly embarrassed. Because, while I totally got the point, I recognized that I still wanted the praise. Growing up, I was the quintessential Good Kid, and I got a lot of praise for that. And I loved it. I became what Nelson calls an "approval junkie." It wasn't enough if I liked what I had done, I needed someone else to like it, too.
Ahem. Dig me, using the past tense, as if this is no longer true.
I still really struggle with this, with looking inward rather than to others for validation. It makes MOTH crazy, because, as the person in nearest proximity, he is often who I turn to. Which makes me crazy, because he--being the opposite of an approval junkie--doesn't want me to need that approval, so he grants it grudgingly, which of course, doesn't count. And then I get frustrated because a) I know that I shouldn't need it, but b) I do, and you know it, so how's about we make with the praise, please?!
As Tankbaby becomes a Tanktoddler, I know that parenting is going to undergo a shift as well, from The Basics (provide love, food, shelter, safety) to Advanced (all of the above, plus Shaping Human Being). I hope that I can do as good a job as my parents did (oops...I mean that as a compliment to my parents, not to myself, though I can see how it could read that way...), plus make a few adjustments. One of those is not to create an approval junkie. But I also don't want him to go so far in the other direction that he doesn't care at all what other people think. I do think that independence can go too far and become isolation. MOTH is fiercely independent, and while I find it admirable, I also am driven batty by the fact that I often feel like he doesn't think about how it feels to be someone else. As I've said to him, "It's great that you don't care what anybody thinks, but sometimes that feels to me like you don't care what I think." (He reassures me that he does, of course.)
I'm sure that, with two parental extremes, we can reach a nice healthy middle ground for our boy, right? Oh, and without much conflict between the parents, if that's not too much to ask.
Also, I'd like a pony. That flies.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Reasons I Suck at Posting Lately
1. My baby's bare feet look like steamed pork buns and I must nom on them daily.
2. During my limited computer time, I'm easily distracted by stuff like this. He's a monkey! Who cooks! And I can highly endorse the apple crumble.
3. I'm still trying to learn that whole who/whom thing. Also, lay/lie.
4. It's really out of service to you, the reader. I don't want to rush you; I want to give you time to really savor each post. Go ahead, swish it around in your mouth a bit. There, isn't that nice? ("Mmm...fruity, with a fishy finish.")
5. I may have mentioned once or twice that my baby (he of the pork buns feet) doesn't. Effing. Sleep.
6. MOTH and I are back on our weekly menu-planning schedule, which means that instead of lame-but-fast pasta, we are taking the time to cook and consume things like tonight's butternut squash and bacon* risotto (which, by the way, good Goddamn, y'all...I believe all three of us consumed our collective weight in that stuff tonight).
7. Each post is preceded by three days of preparatory ritual, including fasting and meditation. Those are tricky, but it's the human sacrifices that really take up some time.
8. George W. Bush. I can't pinpoint how, but it's always safe to assume he's had a hand in screwing things up.
*When I came home, the whole house smelled of bacon, which made me think: bacon potpourri. Genius, right? Come on, you'd totally buy that.
2. During my limited computer time, I'm easily distracted by stuff like this. He's a monkey! Who cooks! And I can highly endorse the apple crumble.
3. I'm still trying to learn that whole who/whom thing. Also, lay/lie.
4. It's really out of service to you, the reader. I don't want to rush you; I want to give you time to really savor each post. Go ahead, swish it around in your mouth a bit. There, isn't that nice? ("Mmm...fruity, with a fishy finish.")
5. I may have mentioned once or twice that my baby (he of the pork buns feet) doesn't. Effing. Sleep.
6. MOTH and I are back on our weekly menu-planning schedule, which means that instead of lame-but-fast pasta, we are taking the time to cook and consume things like tonight's butternut squash and bacon* risotto (which, by the way, good Goddamn, y'all...I believe all three of us consumed our collective weight in that stuff tonight).
7. Each post is preceded by three days of preparatory ritual, including fasting and meditation. Those are tricky, but it's the human sacrifices that really take up some time.
8. George W. Bush. I can't pinpoint how, but it's always safe to assume he's had a hand in screwing things up.
*When I came home, the whole house smelled of bacon, which made me think: bacon potpourri. Genius, right? Come on, you'd totally buy that.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
More Bloggy Love
You guys! (For full effect, that should be read with the "I can't believe it I'm so stunned but secretly I've been hoping for this for months" inflection of the girl whose bra was just snapped by some mouth-breathing jock in the junior high hallway.) Elly over at BugginWord done give me an award! And all she asks for in return is hot lesbian monkey sex with painted ferrets while listening to Rod Stewart (in order to understand those references you will have to go read her blog, which you really ought to be doing anyway).
Ironically, this award is given for commenting, which is something I have been really bad about doing lately (in addition to blogging, exercising, shaving my legs, and countless other neglected activities), for which I have no excuse, given that I've had three weeks off school. I plead traveling, yet another dad-blarned baby cold, and general holiday madness.
So, if I understand how this award works, I list five things I enjoy (general enough for you? I could do, like, Five Things I Enjoy On Ice Cream, or Five Things I Enjoy When No-One's Looking, or Five Things I Enjoy About Rhinoceroses...), then I give a shout-out (who's white? I am!) to five of my "loyal followers who make your day with frequent and cool comments.”
So, Five Apparently Unrelated Things I Enjoy:
1) Reading a book for hours at a stretch, hopefully with a sweet snack to nibble on idly
2) That moment when, either because you hit snooze or because you realize it's Saturday, you roll over and go back to sleep
3) Having warm laundry dumped on me...mmmm...
4) Making someone laugh, especially if it's someone who makes me laugh
5) Bike riding on city streets at night
Now here comes the good part. I think I have exactly five people who I could call followers, and I have certainly tested their loyalty by my scanty posts as of late. So, everyone wins! See, with other bloggers, you might have to gnaw your fingernails, wondering if you would be one of the lucky chosen ones, and sending small tokens of appreciation in hopes of being recognized. But not with me! All you have to do is show up! I mean...
(Hm. I'm not sure who I'm insulting more above...me or you guys. Let's move on to the award while I still have all five of you...)
Submom at Absence of Alternatives: You were my first (bashfully kicks ground), and you continue to post lovely, funny, and encouraging comments--sometimes apologizing, even for commenting "too much." As if such a thing were possible!
Jen at Nathan Rising: Besides the fact that you are always supa-dupa sweet, I think our babies are almost exactly the same age, so I have a fantasy that they'll grow up and be college roommates in some wacky buddy movie. Could happen, right?
The Kitchen Witch: Because I think that in real life, you would shun me for my terribly pedestrian tastebuds, I cling like a howler monkey to each smart and funny thing you write online. Which includes, um, everything you write.
Naptime Writing: Everything I can say, you can say better. So just the fact that you come by and don't shake your head pityingly at me is really enough for me.
Elly at BugginWord: You make me snort more than any person in recent memory. Also, you have kicked major cancer ass, which means that you're a superhero and it's best to keep on your good side.
Good night, my lovelies. You are all the collective wind beneath my bloggy wings.
Monday, January 4, 2010
2010: Where's My Damn Flying Car?
Well, hi. So much for upping my blogging game in December, huh? To be fair, part of the problem was that I spent the last two weeks of it traveling and holding a baby who decided to meet his 9-month milestone of Increased Stranger Anxiety Oh Dear God If I'm Not Being Held By Mom It Is As If My Eyes Are Being Plucked Out By Seagulls (I'm pretty sure that's totally what it's called in the Dr. Sears books.) And while yes, my fancyphone has interweb capability, I do not yet possess the skillz to type on it with any accuracy/speed while simultaneously trying to keep Tankbaby's My First Talons from plucking and pinching at my, ahem, decolletage. This is his new game while nursing, and I am not a fan. My boobs and sternum are now covered with yellow bruises, as if I'm the victim of a tiny, tiny domestic violence offender.
The always excellent Sundry has recently posted her traditional New Year's quizmemething, and, while I generally don't get into these things, I do totally get into a ready-made blog entry (perhaps for Christmas I should have asked for a work ethic). So, while I make my grandiose plans for the pithy and lengthy blog entries I will inevitably write about our holiday travels, for now I offer you this:
1. What did you do in 2009 that you'd never done before?
1. Had a baby.
2. Started a blog.
3. Made my own chicken soup from scratch.
4. Went nine months without ever sleeping more than four hours in a row (see #1).
A very impressive list, no? Actually, there are lots more things that I could list, all related to that baby-having thing, but they'd include things like Eliminated Personal Waste In Front Of Strangers and Lost All Sense of Breasts As Anything Other Than Fleshy Oberweiss Spouts, so let's move on, shall we?
2. Did you keep your new year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I cleverly avoided failure in this area by not making any resolutions last year. Although, looking back, I realize that I should have resolved for 2009 to lose weight. Seeing as how I was eight months pregnant in January 2009, that would have been an easy win as soon as I gave birth. Shoot.
For this year, I sort of shudder to call them resolutions, but my brain keeps popping up the following:
Well, I did. Does that count? Also, my friend A, who hadn't told me she was pregnant yet when I ran into her at what turned out to be our midwife's office. Her daughter is one month and one day older than Tankbaby. And about ten pounds lighter. Hee.
Plus, my cousin's wife, my friend Jason's wife, and my cousin (a different one).
Oh, and Kourtney Kardashian. (Seriously, folks, should we just get DHS on the speed dial now?)
4. Did anyone close to you die?
No, thank God, but one of my dearest friends had a miscarriage in January and it affected me more deeply than I could have imagined (happy ending: she is now pregnant!).
5. What countries did you visit?
Yeah. Look, between the baby and the economy, we're lucky I got to visit another state, and that didn't even happen until December.
6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009?
A full night's sleep.
7. What dates from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
Well, this is awfully "duh," but Tankbaby's birthday is March 8th.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Huh. Have you guys noticed that this quiz is a little weighted in one area? I guess it'd be too obvious to point out that I birthed myself a whole human, basically with the birth plan I'd wanted, and learned to breastfeed, and haven't dropped him yet...
Well, heck, I finished NaBloPoMo!
Aaannd...huh. Hard to surpass Creating Human Life From Scratch. Although, I think I should also give a nod to just learning to live everyday life with a high-needs infant. Things like dyeing my hair, going to work, cleaning the bathroom...each of these have often felt like tremendous successes in the moment.
9. What was your biggest failure?
Wow. What does it say that I have quite a list in my head going on here? I'm going to follow my own resolution about being kinder to myself and take off all parenting-related things from that list. I'm a new, sleep-deprived mom who has a wealth of professional knowledge that translates into a constant voice telling me that I should know better, should do better. I certainly had moments of being so frustrated and overwhelmed and losing it, to the point of needing to throw things, but I never once a) threw the baby, b) threw things at my husband, or c) threw the baby at my husband, so I'm gonna call this good.
I am, however, bothered by how my efforts at being a good mom sometimes meant that I failed at being a good wife, a good friend, or a good teacher. I hope that in the next year, I learn more balance.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Other than pushing-human-out-the-coochie-related owies, I've done remarkably well. The year's first cold hit me in early December. No dreaded swine flu, despite the best efforts of my little petri dishes at school.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
Well, the fancyphone springs to mind, because it's new and shiny and sitting right here, and because, once that rebate comes through, it was free. I think, however, the best money I spent in 2009 was actually spent in late 2008, on the Hypnobirthing classes we took. We certainly got our money's worth in 2009, and I credit the classes and our wonderful teacher with the fact that Chicken Little old me did not have any panic during the entire 24-hour birthing experience. That was my greatest fear (fear itself, ahem), and the fact that I remained calm and (relatively) in control throughout the labor is money well spent.
12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
Imma shout-out to all my bitches. The single ladies (all the single ladies) who were beyond tolerant about my baby-blathering and used their unfettered status to do things like pick up prescriptions and take my dog to the park during those early, bleary days...the fellow new moms who shared and overshared all the details of pregnancy, birth, and new babyhood and made me remember I wasn't alone...the seasoned moms who offered perspective and wisdom when I wished my own mom could have been here....I was (cliche alert) truly blessed to have all these women in my life.
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
It seems to easy to go with celebrity jokes around Sarah Palin, Kanye West, or Tiger Woods, so I'm going to answer this sadly and honestly and say the behavior of some of the families I work with. Of course, other families could easily be the answer to question 12 as well.
14. Where did most of your money go?
Bills and daily expenses. We went down to one income, plus I had some unpaid maternity leave (sigh), so we were definitely belt-tightening around here.
15. What did you get really excited about?
I suppose it's a cop-out to go with the baby again, but let me just say that when you work in special ed, every typical milestone met is a reassurance.
What else? My friend's pregnancy. My other friend's idea for a family-friendly theater company. Writing again. Making my dad a grandpa. Helping my sister plan her wedding. And, um, Glee. What? It's awesome.
16. What song will always remind you of 2009?
Songs I sing to Tankbaby: "Rocky Raccoon" by the Beatles, "Space Oddity" by David Bowie...and the entire Forgotten Arm album by Aimee Mann. You know, just your standard lullabies.
17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
-happier or sadder? Both. (Cop out, I know, but really...of course I'm happier in that my life has totally changed to include this chunky baby of awesomeness, but also? Life is a lot harder and more complicated and I find myself reminiscing fondly of the simple potential of last year at this time, when all was ripe and giddy and just easier.)
-thinner or fatter? Thinner. Because I was EIGHT ZILLION MONTHS PREGNANT last January.
-richer or poorer? Definitely poorer.
18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
I wish I'd started blogging earlier. I wish I'd written more about the early days of motherhood, because I will never experience those for the first time again. I wish I'd taken more deep breaths and asked for help more often.
19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Worrying. About EVERYTHING. Jeez-us, it's a wonder I got anything else done. Oh, wait....
20. How did you spend Christmas?
At my mom's cousin's house with that whole side of the family, most of whom had never met Tankbaby. There were new babies, new spouses, and a whole lotta desserts. Good times.
21. Did you fall in love in 2009?
Yes, with my baby. Also with Cameron and Mitchell on Modern Family. Probably more so with the baby, but it's too close to call.
22. What was your favorite TV program?
Well, we don't have cable, we don't do Netflix, and I mostly only got to watch any TV in the last few months when Tankbaby finally started napping. So, knowing that my choices are limited to what I can see on network websites or Hulu, I will direct your attention to the previously-referenced Glee and Modern Family. But I'm also crossing my legs like an elderly daschund waiting for the return of Friday Night Lights to NBC.
23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
Nope.
24. What was the best book you read?
During the wee hours of the morning, back when night nursing meant sitting up in bed for 45-60 minutes at a time every 2-3 hours, I read the Jasper Fforde Thursday Next series and enjoyed it tremendously. I also reread Ayun Halliday's The Big Rumpus and Anne Lamott's Operating Instructions a few times, both of which helped me feel like less of a crazy person. Lamott's book, especially, should be required reading for new moms.
25. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Please see above notes regarding a) poverty and b) baby. No new music for me this year, really, although I will say that dancing around the kitchen with the babe, I rediscovered just how wonderful Paul Simon's Graceland is.
26. What did you want and get?
A healthy baby (booo-ring!)
To keep my job (which was looking iffy during budgeting time...which fell smack dab in the middle of my--unpaid--maternity leave)
A good haircut now that I've finally grown out the Great Bangs Experiment of Ought-Eight
27. What did you want and not get?
More visits with friends and family
That sense of peace and familial tranquility (not to mention the white, fluffy sheets 'n' duvet set) in all the Johnson & Johnson commercials that feature a new baby.
28. What was your favorite film of this year?
Well, considering I saw exactly one movie this year (Extract, which I did enjoy), this is kind of no contest. Ooh! But I also finally saw Clue all the way through--I know, I know, but I'd only seen it in bits and pieces before--at a friend's house one night and it was awesome. Madeline Kahn and Tim Curry should be in every movie ever.
29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I saw Extract. My in-laws were in town, so we all had brunch, and then they watched the baby while MOTH and I saw a matinee, then joined them for dinner. I turned 34, as did 50 Cent, who I'm sure spent his day similarly.
30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
The ability to fly.
31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2009?
Well, being a fashion icon such as I am, my concept evolved from "Tablecloths with Sleeves" to "Shapeless but Functional" to "Fine, I Guess I'll Wear Non-Elastic Waistbands Again."
32. What kept you sane?
Yeah, that's assuming that I was so kept. I would say that's debatable.
Oddly enough, I think going back to work helped a lot. It gave me perspective to see what some of my kids and families struggle with on a daily basis. I got to talk to adults, but adults who study young kids and were therefore happy to ask/listen about Tankbaby. Perhaps most important for my mental health, I got to occasionally go to the bathroom without filing a flight plan.
33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
I suppose if I were cool I could list one of those sexy vampire kids. Well, I think it's always safe to go with Jon Stewart, right? Ooh, and Mike Rowe. You know, from Dirty Jobs? Funny, built, and willing to deal with the icks of life? Yeah...I'd knock him down and hit the ground first.
34. What political issue stirred you the most?
Well, healthcare and economical woes aside, I am always amazed at how difficult it is to get and keep funding for special ed services for kids birth-five. News flash: if we don't fix it now, it's going to be your problem down the road.
35. Who did you miss?
My mom.
36. Who was the best new person you met?
I will skip the obvious, baby-related answer here and instead give a shout-out to my New Interwebz Friends that have been so wonderful about reading, commenting, and supporting me as I try out this little blogging adventure. When I'm charged with child neglect from spending all my time online, I will thank each of you.
37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009.
When I was complaining to a friend about Tankbaby's fractiousness around month four, she told me about a time she was babysitting and the infant was just inconsolable and wouldn't eat or sleep or chill the hell out. My friend called her mom, who commiserated by saying, "You can't yell at a damn baby." Which is not, I suppose, technically true, but the point is, the baby? He doesn't care about how much he's inconveniencing/frustrating/worrying you, and nothing you do can make him care. All you can do is hold on sometimes. It's been humbling, and probably very good for me, to be part of a process where I have so little control.
Also? I recently discovered that I enjoy roasted squash.
38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
Terribly sappy, but I've been singing Tankbaby this lullaby that my mom used to sing to me. It's a John Denver song that Peter, Paul and Mary performed called "For Baby (for Bobby)":
I'll walk in the rain by your side,
I'll cling to the warmth of your tiny hand,
I'll do anything to help you understand
I love you more than anybody can.
Wow. This damn entry has taken me three days to write, and I pretty much just put "the baby" in for every answer. And now I'm off to check in with my fabulous bloggy friends, sorely neglected these last few weeks. Happy 2010, everyone...
The always excellent Sundry has recently posted her traditional New Year's quizmemething, and, while I generally don't get into these things, I do totally get into a ready-made blog entry (perhaps for Christmas I should have asked for a work ethic). So, while I make my grandiose plans for the pithy and lengthy blog entries I will inevitably write about our holiday travels, for now I offer you this:
1. What did you do in 2009 that you'd never done before?
1. Had a baby.
2. Started a blog.
3. Made my own chicken soup from scratch.
4. Went nine months without ever sleeping more than four hours in a row (see #1).
A very impressive list, no? Actually, there are lots more things that I could list, all related to that baby-having thing, but they'd include things like Eliminated Personal Waste In Front Of Strangers and Lost All Sense of Breasts As Anything Other Than Fleshy Oberweiss Spouts, so let's move on, shall we?
2. Did you keep your new year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I cleverly avoided failure in this area by not making any resolutions last year. Although, looking back, I realize that I should have resolved for 2009 to lose weight. Seeing as how I was eight months pregnant in January 2009, that would have been an easy win as soon as I gave birth. Shoot.
For this year, I sort of shudder to call them resolutions, but my brain keeps popping up the following:
- Be kinder to myself, but less self-indulgent (that second part shouldn't be too hard, considering that by the end of 2010 I'll have a toddler on my hands. I hear they are the next best thing to nunneries if you're trying to avoid decadence).
- Quit building resentment. I struggle so much with this, and it does no-one any good, so I'd really like to work on developing a tough-love "either take action or shaddup about it" attitude with myself. Curiously, I have no problem applying this edict to others...
- Get back into a regular exercise habit. I know, I know, this one is so cliche it's lame, but other than walking the dog, I haven't had a regular exercise routine all year, unless you count breastfeeding. Which is great for the scale, but not doing a whole lot for things like, say, my cardiovascular health. I used to be pretty religious about doing something 3-4 times/week, and should really get back into that routine in some way. You know what they say: MILFs are made, not born. Or...something.
Well, I did. Does that count? Also, my friend A, who hadn't told me she was pregnant yet when I ran into her at what turned out to be our midwife's office. Her daughter is one month and one day older than Tankbaby. And about ten pounds lighter. Hee.
Plus, my cousin's wife, my friend Jason's wife, and my cousin (a different one).
Oh, and Kourtney Kardashian. (Seriously, folks, should we just get DHS on the speed dial now?)
4. Did anyone close to you die?
No, thank God, but one of my dearest friends had a miscarriage in January and it affected me more deeply than I could have imagined (happy ending: she is now pregnant!).
5. What countries did you visit?
Yeah. Look, between the baby and the economy, we're lucky I got to visit another state, and that didn't even happen until December.
6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009?
A full night's sleep.
7. What dates from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
Well, this is awfully "duh," but Tankbaby's birthday is March 8th.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Huh. Have you guys noticed that this quiz is a little weighted in one area? I guess it'd be too obvious to point out that I birthed myself a whole human, basically with the birth plan I'd wanted, and learned to breastfeed, and haven't dropped him yet...
Well, heck, I finished NaBloPoMo!
Aaannd...huh. Hard to surpass Creating Human Life From Scratch. Although, I think I should also give a nod to just learning to live everyday life with a high-needs infant. Things like dyeing my hair, going to work, cleaning the bathroom...each of these have often felt like tremendous successes in the moment.
9. What was your biggest failure?
Wow. What does it say that I have quite a list in my head going on here? I'm going to follow my own resolution about being kinder to myself and take off all parenting-related things from that list. I'm a new, sleep-deprived mom who has a wealth of professional knowledge that translates into a constant voice telling me that I should know better, should do better. I certainly had moments of being so frustrated and overwhelmed and losing it, to the point of needing to throw things, but I never once a) threw the baby, b) threw things at my husband, or c) threw the baby at my husband, so I'm gonna call this good.
I am, however, bothered by how my efforts at being a good mom sometimes meant that I failed at being a good wife, a good friend, or a good teacher. I hope that in the next year, I learn more balance.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Other than pushing-human-out-the-coochie-related owies, I've done remarkably well. The year's first cold hit me in early December. No dreaded swine flu, despite the best efforts of my little petri dishes at school.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
Well, the fancyphone springs to mind, because it's new and shiny and sitting right here, and because, once that rebate comes through, it was free. I think, however, the best money I spent in 2009 was actually spent in late 2008, on the Hypnobirthing classes we took. We certainly got our money's worth in 2009, and I credit the classes and our wonderful teacher with the fact that Chicken Little old me did not have any panic during the entire 24-hour birthing experience. That was my greatest fear (fear itself, ahem), and the fact that I remained calm and (relatively) in control throughout the labor is money well spent.
12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
Imma shout-out to all my bitches. The single ladies (all the single ladies) who were beyond tolerant about my baby-blathering and used their unfettered status to do things like pick up prescriptions and take my dog to the park during those early, bleary days...the fellow new moms who shared and overshared all the details of pregnancy, birth, and new babyhood and made me remember I wasn't alone...the seasoned moms who offered perspective and wisdom when I wished my own mom could have been here....I was (cliche alert) truly blessed to have all these women in my life.
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
It seems to easy to go with celebrity jokes around Sarah Palin, Kanye West, or Tiger Woods, so I'm going to answer this sadly and honestly and say the behavior of some of the families I work with. Of course, other families could easily be the answer to question 12 as well.
14. Where did most of your money go?
Bills and daily expenses. We went down to one income, plus I had some unpaid maternity leave (sigh), so we were definitely belt-tightening around here.
15. What did you get really excited about?
I suppose it's a cop-out to go with the baby again, but let me just say that when you work in special ed, every typical milestone met is a reassurance.
What else? My friend's pregnancy. My other friend's idea for a family-friendly theater company. Writing again. Making my dad a grandpa. Helping my sister plan her wedding. And, um, Glee. What? It's awesome.
16. What song will always remind you of 2009?
Songs I sing to Tankbaby: "Rocky Raccoon" by the Beatles, "Space Oddity" by David Bowie...and the entire Forgotten Arm album by Aimee Mann. You know, just your standard lullabies.
17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
-happier or sadder? Both. (Cop out, I know, but really...of course I'm happier in that my life has totally changed to include this chunky baby of awesomeness, but also? Life is a lot harder and more complicated and I find myself reminiscing fondly of the simple potential of last year at this time, when all was ripe and giddy and just easier.)
-thinner or fatter? Thinner. Because I was EIGHT ZILLION MONTHS PREGNANT last January.
-richer or poorer? Definitely poorer.
18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
I wish I'd started blogging earlier. I wish I'd written more about the early days of motherhood, because I will never experience those for the first time again. I wish I'd taken more deep breaths and asked for help more often.
19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Worrying. About EVERYTHING. Jeez-us, it's a wonder I got anything else done. Oh, wait....
20. How did you spend Christmas?
At my mom's cousin's house with that whole side of the family, most of whom had never met Tankbaby. There were new babies, new spouses, and a whole lotta desserts. Good times.
21. Did you fall in love in 2009?
Yes, with my baby. Also with Cameron and Mitchell on Modern Family. Probably more so with the baby, but it's too close to call.
22. What was your favorite TV program?
Well, we don't have cable, we don't do Netflix, and I mostly only got to watch any TV in the last few months when Tankbaby finally started napping. So, knowing that my choices are limited to what I can see on network websites or Hulu, I will direct your attention to the previously-referenced Glee and Modern Family. But I'm also crossing my legs like an elderly daschund waiting for the return of Friday Night Lights to NBC.
23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
Nope.
24. What was the best book you read?
During the wee hours of the morning, back when night nursing meant sitting up in bed for 45-60 minutes at a time every 2-3 hours, I read the Jasper Fforde Thursday Next series and enjoyed it tremendously. I also reread Ayun Halliday's The Big Rumpus and Anne Lamott's Operating Instructions a few times, both of which helped me feel like less of a crazy person. Lamott's book, especially, should be required reading for new moms.
25. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Please see above notes regarding a) poverty and b) baby. No new music for me this year, really, although I will say that dancing around the kitchen with the babe, I rediscovered just how wonderful Paul Simon's Graceland is.
26. What did you want and get?
A healthy baby (booo-ring!)
To keep my job (which was looking iffy during budgeting time...which fell smack dab in the middle of my--unpaid--maternity leave)
A good haircut now that I've finally grown out the Great Bangs Experiment of Ought-Eight
27. What did you want and not get?
More visits with friends and family
That sense of peace and familial tranquility (not to mention the white, fluffy sheets 'n' duvet set) in all the Johnson & Johnson commercials that feature a new baby.
28. What was your favorite film of this year?
Well, considering I saw exactly one movie this year (Extract, which I did enjoy), this is kind of no contest. Ooh! But I also finally saw Clue all the way through--I know, I know, but I'd only seen it in bits and pieces before--at a friend's house one night and it was awesome. Madeline Kahn and Tim Curry should be in every movie ever.
29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I saw Extract. My in-laws were in town, so we all had brunch, and then they watched the baby while MOTH and I saw a matinee, then joined them for dinner. I turned 34, as did 50 Cent, who I'm sure spent his day similarly.
30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
The ability to fly.
31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2009?
Well, being a fashion icon such as I am, my concept evolved from "Tablecloths with Sleeves" to "Shapeless but Functional" to "Fine, I Guess I'll Wear Non-Elastic Waistbands Again."
32. What kept you sane?
Yeah, that's assuming that I was so kept. I would say that's debatable.
Oddly enough, I think going back to work helped a lot. It gave me perspective to see what some of my kids and families struggle with on a daily basis. I got to talk to adults, but adults who study young kids and were therefore happy to ask/listen about Tankbaby. Perhaps most important for my mental health, I got to occasionally go to the bathroom without filing a flight plan.
33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
I suppose if I were cool I could list one of those sexy vampire kids. Well, I think it's always safe to go with Jon Stewart, right? Ooh, and Mike Rowe. You know, from Dirty Jobs? Funny, built, and willing to deal with the icks of life? Yeah...I'd knock him down and hit the ground first.
34. What political issue stirred you the most?
Well, healthcare and economical woes aside, I am always amazed at how difficult it is to get and keep funding for special ed services for kids birth-five. News flash: if we don't fix it now, it's going to be your problem down the road.
35. Who did you miss?
My mom.
36. Who was the best new person you met?
I will skip the obvious, baby-related answer here and instead give a shout-out to my New Interwebz Friends that have been so wonderful about reading, commenting, and supporting me as I try out this little blogging adventure. When I'm charged with child neglect from spending all my time online, I will thank each of you.
37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009.
When I was complaining to a friend about Tankbaby's fractiousness around month four, she told me about a time she was babysitting and the infant was just inconsolable and wouldn't eat or sleep or chill the hell out. My friend called her mom, who commiserated by saying, "You can't yell at a damn baby." Which is not, I suppose, technically true, but the point is, the baby? He doesn't care about how much he's inconveniencing/frustrating/worrying you, and nothing you do can make him care. All you can do is hold on sometimes. It's been humbling, and probably very good for me, to be part of a process where I have so little control.
Also? I recently discovered that I enjoy roasted squash.
38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
Terribly sappy, but I've been singing Tankbaby this lullaby that my mom used to sing to me. It's a John Denver song that Peter, Paul and Mary performed called "For Baby (for Bobby)":
I'll walk in the rain by your side,
I'll cling to the warmth of your tiny hand,
I'll do anything to help you understand
I love you more than anybody can.
Wow. This damn entry has taken me three days to write, and I pretty much just put "the baby" in for every answer. And now I'm off to check in with my fabulous bloggy friends, sorely neglected these last few weeks. Happy 2010, everyone...
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