When friends drift apart (for the best)

We've lived in Podunkville now for almost 3 years, which is so hard for me to wrap my brain around! Shortly after we moved here, I remember meeting this woman at a party, and she told me that whomever I was friends with at that time, I probably would not be very close friends with a few years from now. My friends would completely change. And she was 100% right.

There is something about moving to a place like Podunkville, especially when you are coming from a bigger city, that makes you seem like fresh blood to the locals. (It also makes you a target for invitations to in-home parties where people try to sell you makeup, jewelry, and candles - ugh! See me in hell!) Anyway, there were 2 couples we socialized with pretty regularly during the first 9 months we lived here. Then one of the couples got divorced, and their social scene obviously changed as they returned to singledom and the bar scene. But the other couple, well, I just think they're a bit off, but they're cool people. Just not our BFF's.

The woman, J, is someone who makes a very good first impression when you meet her. Very gregarious, funny. Then you spend a little more time together and start to wonder why someone with such an awesome personality like hers doesn't have any close friends around here, despite having lived here for basically her entire life. I finally figured it out: she is the classic example of that old adage "the friend to everyone is a friend to no one." She doesn't like to get too close to any one particular person. She is more comfortable keeping people at arm's length. The handful of times I had real, intimate conversations with her where I felt I was seeing the real her, were followed by months of unreturned phone calls, cancelled plans, "my kids are sick again," etc.... until she needed a favor, then she would suddenly show up in my in-box again.

So I had basically written her off as a flake. And I finally made some real friends who have stood the test of time. For awhile I had mostly forgotten about J. Then DH ran into her at work the other day and she gave him this whole song and dance about "Hey! Miss you! We used to see you all the time, what happened?" DH said "Yeah, I don't know, we've been busy I guess," while secretly thinking something like, "I'm pretty sure hush is still waiting for you to call her back from February, when you asked to stay overnight at our place before your trip to Mexico that you sneakily disinvited us from ("oops, my FIL could only get us a 1 bedroom condo, sorry!") so you could then surprise us at 9pm with a request to leave your car at our place and have us drive you to the airport at 5am on a Sat am so that you could save $ by not parking at the airport. And then when you get back a week later, you finally inform us your daughter contracted lice before your trip, and we should probably wash and sterilize everything in the room she stayed in..."

I fully realize I may at times seem extremely bitchy on this blog, but believe it or not, in real life I make it a point never ever to be openly rude or mean to people. I blog in part to vent the things my upbringing will not allow me to say. So I always return J's calls and messages, even though half the time I don't expect her to return them, and I keep my expectations extremely low.

It is weird though.

Remember when "birther" used to mean something else?

In 2007, when I was pregnant with DS, I remember coming across the word "birther" for the first time. The basic meaning at the time was "a well-to-do, urban parent" and it was used in the counterculture to rail against people who lived, conspicuously, with children in a gentrifying urban American setting, and did obnoxious things like takeover an entire city sidewalk with a ginormous $700 Danish stroller, while yelling at everyone else to get out of their way. (While I've been guilty of many things, that's one offense nobody has ever accused me of. Kid never liked the stroller. And I'm too cheap to spend more than $50 on one.)

The old meaning of "birther" has now been completely overshadowed and lost (which in theory isn't such a bad thing, now I hear they call them "breeders,") and "birther" means something entirely different today. See here for a synopsis of right-wing birtherism directed at President Obama. There are also some birther conspiracy theories of a different stripe directed at former VP candidate/former Alaka governor Sarah Palin, surrounding the circumstances of her 5th child's birth, outlined and debunked here.

And I ask you: what is wrong with people?

Seriously.

My take on it? Life is too much like junior high. Back in junior high, there were a lot of silly rumors that went around about other kids, about certain members of boy bands getting their stomachs pumped, about certain celebrities and their penchant for gerbils, etc. Somehow these stories started taking on lives of their own. I didn't get it then, and I don't get it now.

Anyone got any good explanations?

Creepy Bunnies and Sleep

This made me almost pee my pants. I've always thought giant bunnies (and of course, clowns) were scary. (Thank you, Andrew Sullivan and your fantastic blog.)

And, I give you, the ONLY children's sleep book you & yours actually ever really need. (Thank you, Stephany Aulenback, and your supercool blog.)

Yeah, you're welcome. ;)

Toddler Tantrums

One of the downsides to having kids less than 2 years apart is that just when you think you have outgrown the tantrums with your older kid, suddenly the younger one starts throwing them, too - and with a whole lot more pizazz!

My 18-month-old DD can throw one hell of a rage-tastic tantrum. When she doesn't get to have something she wants right NOW, which is more often than not something totally dangerous, like say, a butcher knife she sees DH wielding, or an old battery leaking acid she noticed up on the highest shelf of the garage, she just might go crazy on our asses. She's been known to fling herself on the floor, bang her head repeatedly, pull at the carpeting, hit her parents when they try to pick her up, and even pinch our skin between her little fingers.

Now, I know from talking to my friends that their kids did the exact thing at this age, too. I think all we can do is remain calm and try to make it so she doesn't try to slam her head into anything that could hurt her. Maybe offer her a pillow? Sometimes redirecting her has worked, too: "Ooh, is that a birdie outside?!!"

I just hope she starts talking more. She doesn't talk as fluently as DS did at this age, but I think he was a bit of an abberation, and he didn't have the second language exposure she is getting. But I guess it also makes me question some of the old gendered assumptions about "talkative girls" and "physical boys." For the moment, we seem to have just the opposite on our hands.

Another thing we're grappling with all of the sudden is both kids wanting to be held at the same time, and getting royally pissed that the other kid is in mama or daddy's arms, too. It really is sad/maddening/a total no-win that makes us want to run screaming from the house.

That's not to say it's all bad. The kids are both at such CUTE ages now. Everyday they say or do something totally wacky and hilarious. Honestly, about 99% of the time we love how they interact now. They can finally go run and play together outside in the yard and orchards, and we don't feel like we have to be watching them every single second. So that's been oddly freeing.

I also can't tell you how many parents of older kids have told us lately how much they would love to be able to re-live another week with their kids when they were at ages 18-months and 3 years old. I think this is another one of those wistful, 'Grass is always greener" sentiments, but hey, we'll take the reminder to enjoy our kids for the ages they're at now.

When A Parent Retires

My dad is planning to retire at the end of the year - he'll be 66. Mom is a bit younger and plans to work several more years. I'm no expert, but my parents often ask me for financial advice. (I think they ask me because I'm their only child and they want to keep me in the loop.) They're in really good financial shape, have done everything the conventional wisdom suggests, and are good at saving and living beneath their means - so I should feel good about this. Yay for being proactive and all. But the prospect of dad's retirement - and thoughts of his mortality - make me sad. I'm uncharacteristically up at 1:30am now pondering the changes that are coming. He's loved his job, but says he wants to stay home and write. I hope that will make him happy.

He's asked for some input from me about rolling over his 401k into an IRA. I had to do some research, and I think it is a good decision. A Roth IRA would be ideal. From my research Roths are truly incredible devices that can allow a person to transfer tax free $ to their heirs - IF they play the IRS rules right. Anyway, he scared me a bit when he emailed me the name of this investment company I had never heard of - and I keep hammering him to stick with a trusted name that's well-known and fully insured. Which reminds me that he is also vulnerable. Really we all are, but it feels like folks his age facing these choices are especially so. I guess part of me thinks he is susceptible to being duped, even though to my knowledge he's never made any imprudent decisions - except one recent decision. He read something in AARP or some such publication that convinced him to apply for Medicare a few months before this certain milestone birthday... or else he might not get full benefits. WTF? So he applied and the govt sent him a bill! I think he sorted it out, and maybe that was a lesson not to believe everything you read, and to make sure you apply the general principles to the particulars of your own situation. Navigating this shit seems like a bit of a minefield. Hopefully I can be helpful and not worry and lose sleep for no good reason.

In other news, last week I was sure I had a blood clot in my right leg due to the birth control pills I started taking in January. Turns out I'm just a hypopchondriac who probably needs better neurochemicals. (I kid. But not really.) I had these weird pains in my legs that were a lot like the first day of my period was back in my pre-synthetic-hormone-poppin' days. It was the first cycle where I skipped the placebo pills and started taking the next pack of active pills so that I would not have a period for a few months. I think my odd, slightly-painful leg reaction, accompanied by one pimple and a whole lot of moodiness, was just my body getting used to the excellent idea that I'll only have 4 periods a year. Hooray for that.

Turning Your Own Kid in For Bullying?

There was a NYT article online recently about bullying, which linked to this intriguing news story out of Queensland, Australia about a father who reported his 17-year-old son and his 15-year-old daughter to the police when he caught them battering a 13-year-old boy.

I was really struck by comment #17 to the NYT article, from KS in San Diego, California, who wrote:

"This is going to sound totally off the wall, but I think that every parent should HOPE that their child does something completely stupid at a fairly young age (ie, before that act can cause much damage) just so the child can face the consequences and see that their parents are serious about what they're teaching them."

"As a small child (8 or so?) I threw a rock at another kid and hit her in the head--she needed stitches. I didn't even know her, just found a rock and decided to throw it. But I can tell you that my parents came down on me like avenging furies, and I never did anything even remotely similar again."

"My own kids once stole eggs from a neighbor's chicken and used them to egg a local (not their own) school. I'm pretty sure the fallout there was something neither of them will ever forget--nor should they. I'm just glad it happened while they were young enough that I didn't feel the need to involve police."

Your thoughts?

An Egg Hunt Already

This week is Spring Break for all of the schoolkids of Podunkville, so I invited some of DS's preschool classmates and their older siblings to join us at the park for an Egg Hunt this morning. It was actually a lot of fun, but I had been dreading it. The invite consisted of an email from me with the instruction to "bring 10 eggs for each child you're bringing." Turns out that was not clear enough, apparently, because I got several emails and calls asking questions like:

"What kind of eggs do I bring? Hard-boiled and dyed, right?" (A: Any colorful round thing we could hide somewhere outdoors and a little kid could find would be acceptable.)

"Do we put candy in them? Or are we trying to avoid sugar." (A: Feel free to put candy, or anything, or nothing at all in them.)

"Is there going to be any chocolate? Because my kid can't have dairy! And by the way I'm not even sure we can make it, but I definitely know we can't come if people will be bringing chocolate." (If you've been reading my blog long enough, this particular parent ought to sound a little familiar... A: I asked people not to include chocolate, and no one did. And then the anti-cow protein lady's kid got sick last night so they couldn't even make it today anyway.)

"Are you worried about salmonella poisoning if the kids eat real eggs that have been sitting out for so long?" (A: Um, not really. But if you are, maybe, don't let your kid pick up any real eggs? Just an idea.)

I showed all of the emails to DH, and he wrote a really funny set of "Egg Hunt F.A.Q.'s" that I loved, but ultimately did not send. It included snarky gems like the definitions of the words "egg" and "hunt," along with a description of the way the Easter season is currently celebrated in the U.S. including "chocolate rabbits and eggs, etc." Too bad I didn't send it, but I don't think they would have gotten the joke.

But you know, what this all really boils down to is that I am actually the problem. I really, truly feel that in this context, I totally am. So I chose to take all of those emails as constructive feedback about me and my relationship with the people of my little community. The emails in my inbox were trying to tell me that I tend to make way too many assumptions about the tendencies of the people of Podunkville to want to do something crazy like use their best judgment, or do their own parenting. People here are very, very literal. Yes, a few of them love to feel like people are catering to their "specialness" but most of them seem to like to be told exactly what to do, in the form of brightline rules about things as seemingly obvious as a children's egg hunt in the park. So I just need to accept it. That is how things are in Podunkville. I just need to get better at taking life as it comes, and accepting people for who they are - not some fairytale version of the "reasonable people" I sometimes wish they'd be.

However, I also realized there were several people who didn't email me with any odd questions and passive-aggressive, unnecessary requests. People who simply read the email, showed up, helped me hide eggs, and contributed to the fun. Those are the people I need to focus on in the future and ask on playdates (hate that term.)

Interestingly, like the local egg hunt DS was invited to last year, the real eggs one of the moms brought were the big hit of the morning - all of the older siblings were trying to get them. Luckily, the younger ones, like my DS, were more than happy to trade their real ones with a bigger kid for a "Soy Glory 3" egg containing "fun dough." That totally made DS's day.

In other news, my kids are growing up too fast. DD is 18 months old, is about to get her first salon haircut (BTW, we always go to the beauty school, where it's cheap, the students are young and hip, and they won't give you a mullet); and is finally saying a lot of words that people in the outside world can usually also understand. DD says "hold me" and raises her arms toward the nearest adult (in case "hold me" wasn't clear enough). She is finally sitting through an entire board book and also demanding them to be read to her over and over. Last night she kept saying "Brown Bear Brown Bear" as clear as a bell, leaving no doubt as to which nighttime story she wanted. Coincidentally, the books in that series were also big time favorites of DS's at the same age - something about the catchy colors and the rhythm of the words, maybe?

DS finally started learning the alphabet and has been writing his first name - in all caps - and always asks to borrow my pen anytime he sees me writing something. Behaviorally, DS is in a really good place right now. He's been using words a lot more instead of screeching, and we've been reacting a lot less. And for that we sincerely thank thee, Sharon Silver. Oddly enough, since purchasing one of those popular handheld portable devices that allow you to download books, DH has actually read 2 other parenting books and has even been giving me some tips! I'm really enjoying the parenting conversations DH and I have been having, now that he actually knows what is going on with the research. I'd better pinch myself.

Of Magic Erasers and To-Do Lists

I once read a time management book which made the suggestion that "if something can be done in only 2 minutes, then do it now!" So I put that pithy little gem to use and knocked out several items on my to-do list. Like change the HVAC filter. Water the plants. Email the photographer who took pictures of my kids back in November and still hasn't given me my order. Wipe all the little handprints and boogers off the front of the refrigerator. Icky stuff, etc etc.

Speaking of cleaning, I have to give a big shout out to one cleaning product I was introduced to that totally blew my fucking mind. (And BTW, I'm not one to advertise or even mention products by their real names, but I'm about to break my own rule here.) So DS recently decided to draw some crayon pictures all over the beige wall of our living room, and once we found his crayon-art masterpiece, we figured we'd just have to re-paint over it. Then someone told me about the Magic Eraser. Holy fucking shit! It is amazeballs. I paid $3.50 for a pack of 4 sponges that you just wet and wipe... and every bit of the fucking crayon comes right off the wall without any effort or elbow grease whatsoever. It also works on random marks and scuffs that have been there forever. I have no idea what sort of alien technology they have going on in there to make it work so well, but what can I say, the shit just works. Your grandkids may turn out like monkeys, but your walls will be clean, so there's a trade-off.

One of my other brief to-do's was to check the status on my online complaint with my state insurance commissioner's office against the insurer of the woman who totaled DH's car 3 months ago. Long story short, the shady adjuster for her co made a written promise to reimburse our rental car expenses back in Feb and still has not done so. But instead of actually doing his job, he sent some hilarious emails in which he quoted old case law and tried his best to sound like a lawyer... and that I forwarded around to a bunch of people who also got a kick out of them.. Today his supervisor finally emailed me and cc'd him to bascially encourage him to stop emailing and start talking on the phone, presumably because his emails were only helping my case... No, I won't be taking their calls. "Email is forever" - and much much better for documenting what they actually say. I kind of enjoy the game of it - luckily the amount they owe us is not earth-shattering. And most importantly of all, all parties involved walked away from the accident without a scratch. We also learned that our own insurer handles claims properly and professionally, so that's good to know.

I love it when I actually have my paperwork and facts together so no one can trip me up. That happens maybe once a decade, so let me revel in it.

Meme Whilst I Avoid Focusing on Sad World Events

Slow news day around here. Actually, that's not true. I could talk about the events unfolding in Japan, but it is too close and too ouchy for me. I used to live in rural Kyushu when I worked on the JET Programme. The people were so generous and lovely. Others have said everything I wanted to say much more eloquently than I could have.

Well, I should say Happy St. Pat's to my fellow partial or 100% Micks out there in the world. Good news is that DD finally seems to be feeling better: the unflavored, clear pediatric electrolyte fluid we put in her nighttime bottle (which is usually filled with plain water) seems to have helped her to feel better. DS has been watching the new "Star Trek" movie this morning - in Spanish with English subtitles, thanks to NK's excellent suggestion in my comments section awhile back, for getting kids to want to speak in a different language. DS has been speaking a lot more Spanish since we started doing that, so thanks again, NK! (She writes a very impressive home reno/style/design blog, and inspires awe in me by posting frequently and with cool pictures!)

One of the things I see bloggers do when they're having trouble coming up with a post topic and/or are avoiding world news is to do one of those memes (is that the right word?) - like the "ABC's of me" meme I've seen around lately.

Age: 34.

Bra size: 39.5 DD+. Yes, I'm afraid I have National Geographic boobs that are not a standard size. They look much better secured in a correctly-fitted, albeit Granny-style, uber-supportive bra. I'm proactive about getting new ones at least 3 times a year with the help of kind, department store salespeople.
Chore you hate: All of them! Especially folding and putting away laundry, and dusting.
Dogs: Three. I am a "crazy dog lady" who thinks of them as her quasi-children, but who happen to actually hear what I have to say. We even let our oldest dog sleep in our bed.
Etiquette Rule you always obey: Handwritten thank-you notes, promptly mailed.
Favorite color: Turquoise and Kelly Green. And occasionally Reddish Orange and Fuschia. I'm known locally for my colorful dressing.
Gold or silver: Silver.
Height: 5' 8".
Instruments that you can play: The skin flute...
Just one item you'd grab from burning house: Old family photos. I should really look into scanning them and backing them up electronically.
Kids: A 3-year-old son, and a 17-month old daughter. (And the dogs.)
Live: A small town in the rural, inland Pacific Northwest US
Movie last seen in theater: "The Adjustment Bureau" - great movie, loved John Slattery from 'Mad Men,' makes me want to read some Philip K. Dick. Although I wish the ending had been a little darker, and more European cinema instead of Hollywood-ish.

Novel you're reading: "The Lacuna" by Barbara Kingsolver, for book club - not far enough into it to have formed an impression yet.
Overnight hospital stays: One - unnecessary, but mandatory after the birth of my first child if I wanted my insurance to cover the bill. With my second child I went home by choice on the same day a few hours later.
Pet peeve: Using a handheld mobile phone to talk or text while driving - you people are crazy! "All Snake" claims adjusters who don't respond to emails and phone calls.
Quote from a movie: Anything from "My Blue Heaven" which DH and I quote pretty frequently and can relate to our own lives as big city people living in Podunkille, like "You could melt all of this stuff." - Vinny as Todd Wilkinson
Regret: Not sticking up for myself better when I was once accused of stealing someone's gym bag.
Simple pleasure: Clean bedsheets fresh out of the dryer (that someone else washed for me.)
Time you wake up: 7:15am if I'm lucky - that's life as a mother of 2 small children!
Underrated TV show: "Justified" on FX starring Timothy Olyphant. Extremely violent, but excellent.
Vegetables you dislike: Cauliflower.
What makes you run late: My son tantruming/refusing to keep his carseat buckled properly.
X-rays: I had one when I lost the very tip of one of my fingers under the hood of a car in 1991 - it was actually a painless experience, and unless I keep my fingernail too short, the injury is not at all visible today.
Yummy food you love: Chicago-style pizza, New York-style pizza, Korean BBQ, all Indian food, Sabra hummus from the grocery store... I could go on and on.
Zodiac sign: Scorpio (and the description fits me perfectly, unfortunately!)

You're all tagged if you want to be - to answer any or all of these for yourself - feel free to leave it in the comments

Sick Days

I always knew it was going to happen eventually, and finally it did: both of my children, DH and I have been disgustingly sick with some very strange, no good very bad virus for the past 48 hours... all of us have had some form of lower GI issues. I'll spare you the details, but let's just say someone in my family was very, very confused when he sat on the toilet to defecate and it came out sounding like urination.

DD seems to have the worst of it and is still not out of the woods yet. I just got back from a 9pm trip to the store to pick up some pediatric electrolytes and BRAT diet items (BRAT = bananas, rice, applesauce, toast for the uninitiated). My illness was over in a matter of hours but involved me sprawled out in the tub crying for mercy for the better part of the evening. DH hardly had anything at all - DS got over his bout quickly, and decided he doesn't like vomiting.

I'm so tired of scrubbing toilets, and doing laundry, and wiping the floors, and wondering if my house smells as bad as I think it does. I've missed work, and then our poor babysitter also contracted it, so I've been alone with the kids all day. Yelly Mama made a brief appearance, but DS quickly put me in my place with this direct quote: "Mama, be nice or Daddy won't want to marry you or kiss you." I know, I know, everyone thinks their kid is a little genius in some way shape or form - and we're all correct!

"PC Load Letter!!!???!!!"

Why can't we ever manage to find a basic, bare-bones inexpensive home printer that actually works? As in one that like actually prints documents and doesn't get an "out of paper" or "paper jam" message every 5 minutes? I don't need one that can fax or print photos. Scanner and basic printing capabilities will do.

Here's what I'd like to tell all the home printers I've purchased and hated before.

To our newest shitty printer purchase, the H-Pee AWFUL-ice-jet 4500, I say: Go eff yourself! Unfortunately, we have to live with your broke ass a little longer.

To its shitty predecessor, El Ep-Sun Style-less See-Ex 4450, I say: We had you for like a month because you were included for free with some other equipment we got. (The fact we paid nothing for you should have been our first clue.) Eff you very much!

To the O.G. printer we got back in like 2004, the H-Pee All in one 6210: Thank you for some shits and giggles. We got to talk to some guys in India about your issues on two occasions. Eff off!

Tomorrow I take 2 useless printers to the recycling place; the other I must keep until a better replacement can be found at a reasonable price point. Oy.

The good news is DH and I have date night tomorrow, and we get to see an actual movie in the theater. Maybe it will be at the same theater where I went into labor with DD 17+ months ago while watching "Zombieland." Good times!

Taxes Schmaxes

I hate tax season. Especially for this year. Our returns are taking forever in part because our files were a bit of a disaster. But I've learned a few little tips to keep us organized for next year, like the shockingly brilliant idea of actually filing papers in correctly labeled files. Like duh! Fingers crossed that all adult members of my family (ahem) will actually comply with ideas like these stemming from basic common sense.

We had 2 regular babysitters in 2010 for whom we are legally (and I also feel, ethically) obligated to file payroll taxes because they worked in our home, were over age 18, we paid them at least $1000 in any calendar quarter of the year and/or over $1700 that year. Simple enough parameters, so time to pay Uncle Sam, right? That way, should they ever need to make an unemployment claim, they'll get all the funds to which they're entitled, and it hopefully someday they'll have a little more money to put to use in retirement (that is of course assuming Social Security is still around when today's 20- and 30-somethings retire). So allow me to share our tale of two babysitters with two vastly different views on taxation. But before I do, can I just take a moment to say how much easier it would be if there were actually good daycare in Podunkville? Then at least we'd have no real tax issues to have to concern ourselves with.

Sitter One was a 20-year-old white chick born and raised in Podunkville. When I had her complete an I-9 Form when we hired her, she didn't list her social security number, as she did not know it. She worked for us for about 7 months, was sick a lot, and was late a lot, then once day she told us she was getting married at age 19 and needed to find a job with health insurance & benefits. Fair enough - so we agreed upon an end date 2 months hence. Two weeks later she informs us she needs to quit a little sooner, like on the following Monday. I then have to reschedule a bunch of meetings and work shit. Apparently, she's never heard of the professional courtesy of 2 weeks' notice. I actually wasn't too pissed about it; as I had become quite used to her flakiness.

After the Great Summer 2010 Sitter Hunt of Podunkville that lasted 2 frenetic weeks, enter Sitter Two who starting taking care of our kids in June. She is one of the best things that has ever happened to my family. We have given her raises, and all of the bonuses and perks we can reasonably afford (which isn't much...). She just makes everyone's life so much better. She happens to be a Mexican-American immigrant who may or may not be here legally - I honestly can't tell, nor will I be asking too many questions about her immigration status. We have fulfilled every legal requirement though, just like with Sitter One: she filled out a I-9 form, we examined the documents from the I-9 list, made a copy of her social security card, and we still keep them on file, along with the I-9 form we still have on file or Sitter One. Legally that's all we need to do. We need NOT do the work of the friggin Border Patrol or act like we live in Arizona.

In early January, Sitter Two double checks with me and asks me to please file taxes for her if I can - I said "Of course I will." Last month we put together the 2010 W-2's for both sitters. I had to text Sitter One to get her SS# - asking her to please call me with it. No response after 2 days, I ask again. She said "oh yeah sorry I forgot" and texted me back with it instead of calling me. Texting one's SS# = probably not the smartest move ever. Both W-2's went out in the mail by the January 31st mailing deadline, then we filed them with the SSA. (Sorry to bore you with these details, I promise I'm getting to the point soon.)

A few weeks later, Sitter One texts me "I wish you would of [sic] told me you were gonna make me pay taxes, cuz nobody i ever nannied for has, then i could of [sic] had time to prepare."

I was actually disappointed to get that text. I told DH, who in his no-nonsense way basically said, "She really isn't very bright, is she?" I had to resist every temptation to get into a texting war with this silly little womanchild. As if I enjoy paying taxes on someone who honestly wasn't that good, and as if we really have a choice? Aren't the only certainties in life death and taxes? But I digress. After pondering several different retorts and explanations, I simply texted back: "That's the law. Call me if you have any questions." Haven't heard anything back from her about it and I don't expect to. But bizarrely enough she did list DH as an employment reference and the prospective employer actually called... more proof that she isn't the sharpest tool in the shed. Lucky for her, DH is way too nice of a guy to throw her under the bus even though she sucks in all of the areas one generally needs to be a decent employee. But around people we know really, really well DH is pretty candid. DH wishes he could tell this story to the Tea Partiers who think that "real Americans" like Sitter One are losing ground in this country to "all of the illegals who don't pay taxes." There you have it.

In other news, I realize the Oscars have come and gone, and I recall blogging about them last year... so that means my blogaversary has come and gone without even a mention. What can I say, I guess I'm still at it. Glad someone out there is still reading.

He's Over 3-Years-Old Now, and We Finally Finished His Room

Working on My Marriage

I haven't posted about my marriage in ages. Which naturally means things are going swimmingly because I have zero to bitch about at this time! I attribute this in large part to the fact that 1) neither of our kids is under the age of 12 months anymore, and 2) we have figured out how to communicate much, much more effectively.

I've beaten this one to death, but just want to reiterate that "Getting the Love You Want" by Harville Hendrix was a book both DH and I found very, very helpful and illuminating.

I also came across this very interesting little blog about working on marriage last week written by this earnest, adorable young married couple without kids (who BTW are VERY into Christianity though DH and I clearly are not, but no matter... whatever you believe, I suppose you just gotta be on the same page as your spouse with it, right?). They have these "Tuesday Night Questions" they ask each other that I think are absolutely ingenious:

1. How did you feel loved this past week?

2. What does your upcoming week look like?

3. How would you feel most loved & encouraged in the days ahead?

4. How would you feel best pursued in sex/intimacy this week?

Damn good questions, no?

These adorable young people get it. Harville Hendrix gets it. John Gottman and the myriad people he's co-authored relationship books with also get it.

I hope that someone out there on the internets, like me and DH, who is looking for answers to the problems in their relationships (problems that they know in their hearts to be solveable ones, NOT one of the 4 A's: addiction, abuse, adultery, abandonment) can get their hands on information like this. It literally saved my marriage. All those hard times not so long ago seem like distant memories. Believe it when people say there is an end to Survival Mode with a new baby.

Anyway, I'm off to a little date night with DH now. Wishing you and yours lots of romance, or even just a good lay this Valentine's Day weekend...

"Partisanship is the new Racism" ??

As quoted in the February 4, 2011 issue of "The Week" Magazine:

"Partisanship is the new racism. We love to criticize it, and we love to claim we've transcended it. We recognize it in our enemies but not in ourselves. When partisanship is seen as a form of social identity -- I'm a Democrat because people like me are Democrats, or I'm a Republican because people like me are Republicans -- we can understand why so many blue-collar Kansans are Republicans and why so many Silicon Valley billionaires are Democrats, even though each group's rational interests might be better served by the other party. Any liberal who supported George W. Bush's adventure in Iraq would have been ostracized by his friends. A conservative who feels Barack Obama is a cool president will be made to feel like a traitor at church."

-- Shankar Vendantam in Slate.com (read the full piece here.)

Two and a half years ago, we moved from a Big Blue City in a Red State, to a Small Red Town in a Blue State. DH and I bizarrely, and without much discussion, agree on nearly everything when it comes to politics. So much so, that we never really ever need to actually talk about it. We just send each other quotes and articles like the above, and nothing needs to be said because we are so much on the same page.

Sometimes I even forget that there really are people out here in Podunkville and elsewhere in the world who have Strong Opinions on Such Matters. And even an unfortunate few who need everyone else to agree with them... or else! I'd really like to think I'm not one of those people. I have friends of all political and apolitical stripes. My mom is a Democrat and my dad is a an ex-GOP-er, now Tea Partier, so I think, in a way, being raised without a single, dominant political viewpoint in my family-of-origin has made me relatively flexible in my political thinking.

I don't think any party has a monopoly on good ideas, and I tend not to be very One True Way about much anything. Except for Etiquette, that is. You wouldn't know it by all of the swearing I do, but I was raised with a few pretty hard-core rules of manners that to this day I find myself really believing in. Hand-written thank-you notes. Respect for elders: It's always Mr. or Ms. So-and-so. Ma'am and Sir. May I, Please, Excuse Me, and Thank you. Generally, it isn't proper to discuss sex, politics, or religion... (unless you have felt someone out thoroughly and know them very well... and/or perhaps live somewhere like DC or work in politics where it is a cultural norm).

One of the reasons I knew I had to leave El Shitty Book Club o' 23 Podunk Princesses was the time when the organizer affectionately quoted one of the other members who was missing that night, as having said about some other woman they knew: "Then M said 'She seems nice, but I'm really afraid she's a Democrat!!'" Everyone laughed. And no one except me even blinked an eye. And I wondered if I would pass this person's simple enough litmus test. I don't fit neatly into any of the usual categories. But then I thought about her overall demonstrated level of comprehension of some of the current political issues today, and realized that there were certain words I probably shouldn't use because she might not fully grasp their meaning, and I thought to myself, eh, fuck it. It isn't my job. I live in a small town now, just stay below the fray. Glad I took my own advice on that one.

Anyway, back to the quote at hand - when I first read it, part of me thought, um, actually isn't Racism still the same old Racism? We're just a lot more coded and careful about expressing it these days, but it's obviously still there. One of the comments to the original article suggested that Vendantam's analogy should have been to bigotry instead of racism, and I tend to agree.

Your thoughts?

In Which I Hope I Don't Offend Real Allergy Sufferers

What is wrong with my internal WTF? reaction to the following situation:

Ms. A, mom of a sweet 3-year-old kid who has just joined DS's one-morning-a-week co-op preschool class, shows up yesterday and suddenly says "My kid can't have any dairy" after the person whose turn it was to bring the snack for everyone put a piece of cheddar cheese on every kid's plate, then Ms. A's little guy sees it, wants it, and throws a major tantrum that results in Ms. A having to remove him from the preschool building. Once the little guy calms down, Ms. A bring him back and gives him his own snack of prunes and a banana, sitting him in a different room with her apart from all of the other children, who are eating snack together at one large table with their teacher.

Suddenly, a couple of the other parents are asking me, hey, what is going on!? Because I'm the person with the dubious distinction of being 'parent coordinator,' unfortunately. Aw, shit. And because not having all of the kids eat together with their teacher is apparently a big deal for some parents because they are worried that their kid will demand his/her own special snack, and to be able to eat with mom by herself.... actually that sounds like some potential shenanigan my son would try.

So I ask Ms. A, quietly, what her little boy's dietary restrictions are, and can I please let other parents know so when it is their turn to bring snack we won't have this happen again? (The school is already nut and gluten free, FYI). She says "Well, I don't want to force other parents to have to not bring certain foods." (Thinking to myself, ok so she wants the exact opposite of whatever she just said) I said "I hear you, and BTW we have a policy of being completely nut and gluten free already, so what specifically do we also need to avoid?" And she replied, "Last night my husband and I decided to eliminate all cow proteins from our sons' diets. No more cheese, no more dairy, no more non-organic beef because it is causing our sons' constipation. So we're trying a total elimination diet for 2 weeks to see if the constipation improves." (She said as her son gobbled down 4 prunes in 30 seconds... so perhaps hers isn't much of a scientific approach if her goal is to determine whether or not 'cow proteins' are in fact the cause of constipation, I thought to myself, snarkily.)

Suddenly the president of the co-op is chiming in over my shoulder, "Have you had your son tested for allergies?" I didn't know she was standing there. And at least two other parents are listening in. Ms. A said "No, but I've just been thinking lately about how bad anything from a cow is for you, and how humans were really never intended to eat cows and cow proteins, and how one time we went to this camp for the summer and the food was all vegetarian and no one in our family was constipated, and how when I serve only pure organic beef at home everyone is fine..." Then the kids finished their snack and I got pulled away from the conversation to attend to them, while the president continued to speak with Ms. A for a bit, and a few others continued to listen in.

And I realized my immediate reaction was to be pretty judgmental of Ms. A's entire line of reasoning. And I feel a bit bad about it, but not really. Look, for the record, I respect vegetarianism, veganism, pretty much any and all entrenched cultural & religious reasons for restricted diets, and obviously I fully support institutional restrictions of any foods that cause us and/or our children anything from mild oral discomfort to very serious, life-threatening illnesses. But... between you, me, and the internets, something about this scenario doesn't quite fall into this aforementioned "legitimate" category for me. Maybe because the overall tone of how it unfolded just rubbed me the wrong way? I really ought to give her the benefit of the doubt and go along with her pseudo-scientific thinking, right?

Then the president comes up to me and says "I think you should put the word out about it." Normally, I would send out an email, but honestly I am at a loss as to what to say, and how to describe what exact foods parents shouldn't bring from now on? We have a list of recommended snacks, but I have no idea if they'd be ok with Ms. A (and honestly, I'm irritated even thinking about having to find the list again and having to inquire - shouldn't that be Ms. A's burden?). Even though Ms. A said she didn't want to force other parents to comply with her self-imposed restrictions, Ms. A seemed pretty comfortable telling everyone about her family's diet, and I'm sure she would appreciate everyone doing their part to support her parenting choice (who wouldn't?), so maybe she would be ok with an email going out about it?

I'm of two minds about this. On the one hand, I wish Ms. A would have said something sooner, because it caused a disruption to the class, caused a bit of "drama" amongst the parents, and clearly seemed to make the parent who brought the cheese feel like an a-hole. While Ms. A's son is new to the preschool, her two older children attended there for years, so it is not like she was unfamiliar with the process. When she joined, I made it abundantly clear the multiple ways I and others are always reachable. Granted, I'm sure she didn't expect her son to throw a ginormous tantrum over some cheese... but let's be honest, wasn't it the least bit foreseeable in this context? Anyway, that's all my own problem of feeling irritated and eye-rollish. And I want to be clear, if she had lied and said this were something we needed to have an epi-pen ready to deal with, hush would have been ALL OVER it. I am one of those moms on the playground who has the epi-pen and knows how to use it, and BTW no one in my family is allergic to anything (yet). So maybe I should just be happy she was honest about the situation and the lack of severity.

I'm afraid if I send out an email it will sound all passive-aggressive in my head and I will over-analyze it obsessively. Could you all please tell me honestly what the kind thing to do is? Thank you for listening (I'm annoying myself now just re-reading this.)

How Does Montessori Do It?

This morning I took DS (aged 3 years, 3 months) to a local Montessori preschool for an in-class observation before we formally complete the registration paperwork and pay a deposit to secure his spot in this fall's entering class. The plan is for DS to go at least 3 mornings a week the year he turns 4 (this fall), and then either 4 or 5 mornings or full days a week (we'll see how the upcoming year goes) the year he turns 5; then he'll be off to our local public school for K-12. I've blogged about the public school choice issue before, and right now the plan is to send him to the school in our home district; I'm pretty sure we're not going to want to choice into the away district's dual language school when the time comes. Our friend's first grader is having a hellacious year there with the district's crazy, ineffective discipline policy (called "Make Your Day") and the administration has been no help, so we've pretty much written them off.

Today I was completely blown away by how this entire room of 3, 4, 5, and 6 year-olds was just so eerily quiet, with each and every child focused on their "work" (aka oddly interesting pieces of toddler & preschooler crack) at these small tables or on all of these neatly-arranged floor mats. Then I was blown away yet again by the fact that my son actually participated in this unspoken routine of his own volition (!!), without any type of struggle (!!), and was transformed right before my eyes into a model little citizen within this unique little world without needing much instruction. After an hour and a half of observation, the teacher (beloved by all in Podunkville, and I can see why) proclaimed he would fit right in, and said she looked forward to welcoming him this fall. Then she said she needed to make a note to herself not to ever touch him again without his permission first because he physically bristled at her when she touched his arm while she was showing him how to do a "work," and she said he was the first child in all her years to react in that particular way to her touch, and she was truly impressed. Huh? I almost fell over. I think I finally met someone who "gets" my kid! It was pretty cool that she chose to view his reaction in such a positive light, and formed a strategy for working with him that didn't automatically label him a misfit.

I can't stop thinking about how well DS meshed with this place. You recall that this is the kid who, once he turned the dreaded 3, had to quit pretty much every activity we used to enjoy. This is a kid who has a reputation of being just very hard in general, as in 'Your Spirited Child' to a T. So I was sure he'd hate the place. I've never been happier to say I was wrong!

Now I kind of want to know how it is that they do it. I understand that the term "Montessori" does not reflect a trademarked brand, and so it can mean a million different things depending on the school. Even in Podunkville we have 2 "Montessoris" - one that the locals refer to as "the real Montessori" meaning every kid has to go 5 days a week and commit to 3 years including Kindergarten; and the place we attended today, aka what the locals call "the fake Montessori" where there is flexibility as to the level of attendance. Anyway, I was majorly impressed, but left before I could really figure out the proverbial secret sauce they have going on in there. My guess is DS really connected with the getting to choose his own "work" to do, where he could just jump right in, and not have to sit there in a circle on a carpet square, and talk or listen to other people singing, or do craft projects he isn't into - which were the common themes of all the activities he now hates. Hmmm.....

Keeping My Mouth Shut

I kind of wish I was more of a talker sometimes. But the truth is I'm an introvert who sometimes manages to seem like an extrovert for awhile, but after a time my learned traits like carrying on a lot of small talk, and calling up someone to go see a movie or go to the mall with me go by the wayside, as I realize they are just not natural to my personality. The world seems to love extroverts - I'm learning to accept it, and to keep working to find my truest voice in social situations.

That being said, I am really good at keeping secrets - the good kind of secrets, anyway. When something is an obvious "need to tell" type of thing, I almost always find the courage to talk. Well, until this week anyway.

Something came to my attention recently regarding the "nanny" (Ms. H) of a local acquaintance of mine (Ms. S). (Note: to me, a real "nanny" is someone who actually lives on your property and works at least 40 hours/week. Anyone else is a "babysitter" or "day care provider/teacher." IRL, I would never, ever try to correct anyone on that point because, first of all, I'm not even sure my definition of "nanny" is technically correct. I just think the mis-use of the word "nanny" **in certain contexts** can sometimes make people seem overly pretentious and self-important. Not always, but sometimes, and in certain situations. I just think "babysitter" is so much more palatable, IMHO.)

So anyway back to my story. Another babysitter (Ms. D), who works for a local friend of mine (Ms. B) witnessed Ms. S's babysitter, Ms. H (an early-20-something with no kids of her own), treating one of Ms. S's four daughters inappropriately at a local indoor play gym. Ms. B told me that Ms. D told her that she saw Ms. H yelling across the gym at Ms. S's 6-year-old daughter, and refused to get up off her ass and actually go talk to the child about whatever she was doing that Ms. H felt she needed to scream about. So the little girl was running wild, Ms. H was yelling publicly, and Ms. D didn't like it one bit, but she also didn't say anything to Ms. H nor to the management of the play gym. (Sorry for all of these Ms.-so-and-so's, I hope this is not too hard to keep straight). Ms. B asked me what I thought she should do...

BTW, Ms. B and Ms. S are colleagues who do not know each other well; and Ms. D is in her 50's with 3 grown kids, and used to run a daycare that Ms. S's girls used to attend, before she sold the place and took up part-time babysitting.

I told Ms. B that I thought Ms. D should have addressed it directly with Ms. H or someone in authority, either at the time it happened, or immediately thereafter, if she really thought what she saw was so "inappropriate." I also said that I have seen Ms. H behaving very lovingly at this same gym towards two of Ms. S's other daughters, and I know Ms. S thinks the world of Ms. H and has taken her on several family vacations. Also, several of Ms. S's neighbors who are stay-at-home moms regularly play with the kids with Ms. H, and I have to imagine would report back to Ms. S if something were amiss.

Ms. B mentioned that this is a hard topic for her because when she used to live somewhere else, someone once reported to her that they saw her babysitter behaving inappropriately, and so she immediately fired her - but had nagging doubts about it. I agree that the "reasonable parent" when confronted with a report like that would probably have to let the sitter go immediately. I know I would - but part of the reason would honestly be not wanting to look like a crappy parent in the eyes of the person who reported the behavior to me! But on the other hand, no one can prove a negative. It would be like Ms. S saying to Ms. H, "prove to me that you did not scream at my kid in public."

I left Ms. B by saying she could call up Ms. S and let her know what Ms. D saw, and say something like "maybe you should talk to Ms. H about how you expect her to discipline the kids." I don't know though. My read on Ms. S is that she doesn't want her boat rocked and probably wouldn't fire Ms. H over this. I hate situations like this!! I feel like the so-called "right" thing to do here is eluding me. What say you, parenting goddesses?

Ski Season Comes to Podunkville

One of the best things about living in the middle of nowhere in the Pacific Northwest is the opportunity to live near a decent ski resort. DH and I both started skiing when we were in our early teens, and we only went about 4 or 5 days a year at most. So there is a huge gap between our level of ability (intermediate, don't enjoy moguls and ungroomed powder runs) and the ability level of people who are from this region and who started taking lessons at age 4 (a few of whom are more confident on skis than they are on their own feet). As DH says, "I am not out here trying to win Olympic gold, and I appreciate not breaking my ass."

Now that DS is 3 and is potty trained (wow- part of me can't believe I just typed that because it was such a long, non-linear journey to get there), he is ready for his first official 3-hour ski lessons, instead of just playing around with mom and dad on the rope tow. The local instructors are really good with the little ones, and they understand that at this age it is all about having fun and drinking hot chocolate afterwards.

We decided to do a season rental of real skis and boots for DS, which is super cheap here. He fits in the smallest ski boots and skis that they make. The boots are Salomon and have little rocket ship decals on them, which he loves because they remind him of Fuzz Lightbeer, naturally. And he has the cutest, shiny black ski helmet (which would fit most 5-year-olds, but he has a big head) that reminds us a little bit of Darth Vader or the Rick Moranis character from "Spaceballs."

DD has had a few tries on her plastic Happy Skis (the ones that strap over the snow boots.) She tolerates it for a little bit, but doesn't demand it like her brother did at the ages of 1 and 2. So she is most content to play in the day care at the base of the mountain while the rest of her family goes out to ski. In just a few more years, we will not be able to keep up with our kids, and they will want to run off to other parts of the mountain with their friends while we take it easy on the "boring" runs. So we'd better enjoy the brief days when we all can and want to ski together.

In other news, did anyone watch The Golden Globes? I did not sit through it, but I caught part of the red carpet chatter, and heard that some of my favorite shows "Mad Men" and "Boardwalk Empire" got accolades. I also saw an ad on TV telling me that another one of my favorites, "Justified" returns to FX on Wed, Feb 9th. I love me some gracefully-aging Timothy Olyphant. This should tide me over nicely until the return of "True Blood" to HBO hopefully this June. Did you hear about the homage to "True Blood" on "Sesame Street?" See it here, and be sure to watch for the Lafayette look-alike at the very beginning. There is also a "Sesame Street" that sends up "Mad Men" but it is not quite as entertaining, IMHO.

Starting on The Pill Later in Life

I am one of the only American women I know who has never taken any form of hormonal birth control. Until now, it had never felt right for me and my body, and I have a hard time articulating why. I know full well that it currently is and historically has been such a good fit for like pretty much everyone and their mom, forever. When I was a teen, my own mom (a relatively asexual being whose DH had a vasectomy right after I, their only child, was born) kind of sort of discouraged it with a couple of hints and some shoddy reasoning, while stopping short of having an actual birth control conversation with me - she's skilled at odd verbal acrobatics like that. In hindsight, I think she just didn't want me to ever perceive that taking the Pill would give me carte blanche to bed whomever free of consequences, because obviously it offers no protection against STDs. I think she thought somehow I wouldn't understand that basic scientific truth (duh, right!). Luckily I was resourceful and got my hands on the right books, and finally found The Bible on such matters: "Taking Charge of Your Fertility" by Toni Weschler. It seriously should replace the textbook for young women in junior high & high school sex ed classes. Can't wait to introduce it to my DD someday. I seriously credit this book with singlehandedly having helped me avoid unwanted pregnancy, because from it I learned all of my fertile signs by heart years before I officially needed to know them to start trying to conceive, and was basically using Fertility Awareness for years as a back-up to the various barrier methods I was using.

Another reason I missed out on the ritual of taking the pill during my "peak" fertility window of ages 18-35: I was a dork who starting having sex relatively late in college, at least when compared to my peers, so my need for reliable birth control was low. So a supercheap diaphragm, some spermicide, and a box of condoms pretty much got me through the 90s. I was working too hard and not having nearly enough sex. Meanwhile, nearly all of my closest friends who had started taking The Pill when they were between the ages of 16 and 18 pretty much stayed on it until well after age 30 when they started trying to get pregnant. Most had great, acne-free skin, and no trouble eventually conceiving. The only real negatives I ever heard about The Pill were breakthrough bleeding on occasion, and also the reports from three of my friends who suffer from migraines who were finally years later told by doctors "you should have never been given this kind of pill!" and who were then thankfully cured of their headaches once they switched to a different formulation.

Fast forward to the present day: this is my 35th year on the planet. I'm done having kids. I don't want to get my period anymore, and I would like the acne on my back to clear up. So yesterday I filled my first prescription for The Pill. It seems I am about to join the proverbial club. That said, the original plan was for DH to get a vasectomy - BUT as there unfortunately is no longer the local urologist who could do the 'no needle, no scalpel' technique here in Podunkville (good doctors don't stay here long) DH will have to wait until we have a couple of days free to get it done in a bigger city - so that means realistically it could be a few more years. I suppose I could have forced the issue and made him go see a local non-specialist who might eff up his junk, but honestly that's not the choice I would make for myself if I were in his shoes, obviously!

I guess my only question is, assuming The Pill works well for me and DH never gets a vasectomy, at what age do I eventually stop taking it? 45?? 50?? Or even later?? Hmm... My doctor didn't satisfactorily answer that one.

Ok, it's pithy link time. I'm sure most of you have already read or heard about Vanessa Grigoriadis' recent piece on "Waking Up From The Pill" - but if you've been living under a Cheerios-scented rock like me, maybe not. You can find it here. Recommended reading, though I have some issues with some of the assumptions she makes.

Your thoughts? What pill are you poppin'?