Uppercase Woman

10 Parenting Things I Wish Existed

1. Playgrounds without swings. Because no matter how hard I push, Tori always wants to go higher. Sometimes Mommy just wants to sit the fuck down already.

2. A Mute Button For Whining. I don't want to mute the serious concerns, but the whining? KILLING ME. And the good news is I have YEARS of it to look forward to.

3. Vegetables that taste and look like chicken nuggets.

4. A small force field that would prevent the dog from taking food out of Tori's hands. Because the begging was bad with the dog before with just Charlie feeding him, and now that Tori feeds him too it's unbearable.

5. A way to keep my kid in bed until 7:30am. Or maybe 8am, while I'm asking. Fucking daylight savings time.

6. A grocery store where the shelves all start four feet off the ground.

7. A toy that would make it fun for my kid to scrub while she plays in the tub. She likes staying in there for hours at a time, might as well have her work while she's doing it. I suppose I could just give her a scrubbie.

8. I know I've already bitched about this, but someplace for Tori to play between 4 and 6pm during the week. Someplace NOT in the dark like the playground now is. Cock sucking daylight savings time.

OK, I can only come up with eight things. That means you guys have to supply the last two, and however many more you can think of. :) Oh, and bonus item:

11. Some sort of electrical field that zaps my cat (gently!) whenever she tries to pee outside the litter pan. OK, maybe that's a bad idea but I am so over the cat pee already.

PS: Happy Veterans Day, both to Americans and Canadians. :)

The Education of Tori Anne

I know, I know. It's the day before the election. I should be writing a lengthy post extolling the virtues of the young Barack Obama. I should be reminding you all about important issues like choice, and war, and health care. But you know what? I am WRUNG THE FUCK OUT, people. I have pounded this subject into the ground. You KNOW what I think. If you are unsure, go back and read the last two weeks worth of posts. I am full of anxiety about this election (I know it looks good for Obama now, but we've been down this road before); I'm having trouble sleeping, I find myself watching Fox News, and to make things PERFECT today I got my period. AWESOME.

So all I can say is, GO VOTE. Whoever it is you plan to vote for, go do it (I know a bunch of you already have). And whatever happens tomorrow, let's all promise NOT to be like this woman who refused to give candy to trick-or-treaters who said they supported Obama. Because America? We are better than that.

Oh, and thank Natalee for this. ONE MORE DAY!

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Last night Charlie and I attended a presentation at a local school we are considering for Tori. The presentation was called "Introduction to Homeschooling." I know: what? A school promoting homeschooling? Indeed, it's true. This is a special school that is considered a "support" school to local homeschoolers. It's also very cool, but I'll get into that later.

We learned from the presentation that the compulsory age for school in Pennsylvania is eight, so we don't need to register Tori anywhere or notify anyone until then if we chose to homeschool her. We learned a bit more about the spectrum of homeschooling--meaning, it ranges from "school at home" to "the world is your school" (which is the unschooling philosophy, basically). Most of this stuff we already knew, but they also spent a lot of time discussing resources for homeschooled kids, and it turns out that Philadelphia is full of great opportunities. It's a good time to be a homeschooling parent.

This school practices an unschooling philosophy. They have just over 100 families involved in the school (with, I think, about 150 children currently attending). Student range widely; there are Christian Conservatives and there are super liberal folks. For some kids, going to school there is the most structured time they spend each week, and for others it's the most relaxed.

We toured the Open Program space for four-to-nine year olds. It's beautiful, frankly. They have a reading section, a bird watching section, a wood shop (with real tools! a very popular corner, apparently), an art and science section, and many other little niches. They spend a great deal of time outside (the school is located on 26 acres backing up to a state park). They do offer several structured activities each day, but kids are allowed to chose which area they want to focus on. There are four to five "facilitators" (they don't call them teachers) per 15 children.

They have an excellent policy on bullying; they don't tolerate it, and they have a unique conflict resolution system that I can see really working with kids.

The school is located about thirty minutes away from us, but they don't have a strict start time meaning the commute--even though it would be during rush hour--wouldn't be stressful because we wouldn't have to focus on being "on time." They offer up to three days a week, from about 9am-2pm. Each day a week (for the whole school year) costs about $2600, making it far more affordable than any thing else we've considered, even if we chose the maximum (everything else we looked at cost upwards of $15,000 a year).

So, you might ask, why aren't we just doing public school?

There are a million reasons. First off, we're in a pretty horrible school district. However, our local elementary school is actually not too bad BUT it turns out that they bus 50% of the kids to a school that is basically in one of the worst neighborhoods around (and, of course, bus the kids from that area here). It's a flip of the coin, basically, whether or not Tori will go to a school nearly 45 minutes away.

I'd like to say I'm a good liberal who believes in public education enough to send Tori to that school and just try to change it by being a deeply involved parent. But combine this with my other issues--my discomfort with the current focus on standardized testing, the lack of the arts in public school, the social dynamics of public school--and suddenly, I want to do whatever I can to keep Tori from getting an education that's part of a "system."

I see in Tori a beautiful, happy, inquisitive child that enjoys the world about her in a way I want to preserve and cherish. I want her to view learning as fun, not a chore designed to make a teacher happy. I don't want her to spend most of her time memorizing the answers to standardized tests. I want her to paint and draw and sing as part of her educational experience.

I don't want to sound like I am indicting or judging those of you that chose to send your kids to public school; please don't think I am. Sarah's daughter goes to public school, and is doing great--but they live in an awesome school district and, frankly, if we lived there too we'd be reconsidering. But since it's unlikely that we would be able sell this house any time in the next few years, much less afford a house near Sarah, we're stuck with making the best of a bad situation.

Admittedly, I have to approach this subject with a bit of caution. I know that, for me, public school was not a great choice. I was horrifically bored in public school; I read too early, every subject came to easily to me and I felt unchallenged and eventually I just quit participating (somewhere around 4th grade). I hated being a poor kid in public school wearing the "wrong" clothes. I hated being considered a nerd for being in band. Charlie was much the same. Of course we both know that we have to avoid living vicariously through our daughter. So we won't shut the door on public education (or any sort of traditional education--except Catholic School--that is the most common alternative around us, but is simply not an option for us); we will work hard to stay tuned to Tori's desires and needs and make sure we meet them accordingly.

Still, we're excited about the prospect of sending Tori to this school. It sounds heavenly. Now we just have to find a place to put her next year... I'm not all that thrilled with the "preschool" level where she is going now to morning care, but we still need a place to send her a few mornings a week. Sigh. We'll figure it out. Time to join the local homeschooling message boards and get some advice.

Hopefully I've distracted you a bit from the current election mess. Or I've bored you to tears. Dunno. Now, I'm going to go nurse my cramps with some ibuprofen. Enjoy your day.

Political Parenting

A couple of nights ago I was watching the evening news with my daughter cuddling next to me (pretending she's interested in the news, when she's really just waiting for it to end so she can watch Dora), Tori pointed to the screen and said, "Who's that?" It was John McCain. And without even thinking about it, I said, "Oh honey, that's John McCain, a bad man that's running for President."

Sigh.

Luckily, my daughter is only 2 years old; the chance of her remembering that I called a possible President of our country a "bad man" is pretty fucking slim. But I do NOT want to be the kind of parent that teaches her child to vilify those that don't agree with her. I've worked looooong and hard on my ability to shut up and listen, to set aside my strong personal beliefs and values to listen to what others are saying to me from their own hearts, and I want to impart THAT to my daughter.

Of course, my ability to listen (my limited ability; there are many times I fail) to opposing view points without anger and rancor has only come via force. When I first started talking about the political implications of the way I lost my sons the very first day I was home from the hospital, I was immediately confronted with people that disagreed with me, and many of them disagreed in a way that was hardly respectful or tolerant. But because they weren't standing in front of me I couldn't punch them in the face; instead, I emailed them back something equally nasty, and they emailed me back, and we went back and forth a bunch of times until--suddenly--a tiny bit of common ground was found and we finally found a way to listen to each other. Many of us have actually grown to be friends. Really!

That is not something I can teach to my daughter. That is something Tori will have to learn for herself. But I can give her a firm ground to start on by teaching her that everyone's opinion is valid, even when those opinions seem crazy to her incredibly liberal mommy.

This weekend I spoke with two women--one at a 3 year old neighbor's birthday party, and another at the playground--who confessed that they are politically ignorant, and they just vote the way their husbands do. Yes, in 2008. I was not put into a wayback machine (one mom that I actually like a lot confessed it with chagrin).

*deep breath*

One of the reasons I want to teach Tori compassion for different view points is because, after all, there may come a day where she disagrees with ME. Above all, I want to teach my daughter independence of thought. I never want my daughter to claim that she just votes the way I do, or her husband does, or her wife does, or her father does. I want my daughter to be fully politically educated--in fact, I want to teach her that becoming politically educated is her RESPONSIBILITY. I want her to form her own opinions.

So from now on, when I discuss politics with my darling girl, I'm going to keep my tongue in check and just state the facts. If she wants to know what I think, well, I'll wait for her to ask.

How are you handling this highly charged political season with your kids? Obviously if your child is older than Tori it probably requires a defter hand. I'd love to hear your stories. Because I see the potential for doing harm here (as in so many different areas of parenting I didn't expect. sigh).

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These last few days have thrown me for a bit of a loop here on my blog. One the one hand--oh, let's go with the right one, since that's my writing hand--the writer in me is honored, a bit amazed, and frankly pretty jazzed by the amount of new readers that have come by because of my last two posts.

Then of course there is my brain and its ten-years-of-working-in-marketing that immediately begins rubbing its hands together and cackling like a mad scientist, thinking about how I can use this as a launch pad to that loftiest of dreams, Making A Living Blogging About My Completely Average Life.

But the loudest voice, the one connected to my left hand for continuity's sake (is that the creative side? or the rational side? whatevah), is a tiny bit overwhelmed. Because, my dear new readers, I am just not all that interesting on a daily basis. Ask my old readers. I often blog about my daughter (who, while I think she is pretty spectacular, is just another kid to the rest of the world). Or my marriage. Or movies and television. So I have to say, please don't expect brilliant political posts from me on a daily basis. Or brilliant anything posts. Sometimes I just write about the shit in my head. After all, isn't that what blogging is all about?

So, welcome (hi!), but beware. I'm just your average East Coast liberal elitist that is completely smitten with her two-year-old; in other words, a mommy blogger. Don't be shocked, m'kay?

The Work-At-Home Juggle

Before I embark on this entry, please remember that for many states today is the VERY LAST DAY you can register to vote. Republican, Democrat, or undecided--doesn't matter. I don't care if you write in your cat's name, just get out there and VOTE. Especially if you are a woman. These ladies fought for us; don't let them down.

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I woke up with a brain devoid of blogging topics, so I cast a net on twitter asking for topics and three different folks asked me how I balance being Tori's mom and working at home. Truth? I'm not sure I do, even after a year plus of trying.

Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings Tori goes to morning care* from 9-12; whoever gets up with her (we alternate days) usually takes her over (only about a half-mile away). She gets home at 12:15, eats lunch, and then goes up for a nap (God willing she'll be like me and nap until she's FOUR) until about 3:00 or so.

Tuesday and Thursday mornings I go to a recovery meeting that offers babysitting, for free, which is awesome. We usually stop at a grocery store following the meeting (Whole Foods and Trader Joe's are both close to one of my meetings, and there are certain things we can only get there) or maybe we'll stop at the library. My only work time on those days is during Tori's nap; Charlie gets the mornings to do his work. Afternoons, post Tori's nap, are time we either spend together as a family, or one of us takes Tori somewhere so the other one can work if needed. Also, if I get up with Tori really early, I might sneak some work in while she watches Sesame Street (although that means more typos. heh).

Weekends I usually also work during nap time, or I'll clean/cook/shop/organize/menu plan. Household things. However, the house frequently gets away from us and ends up being a huge disorganized mess.

As you can see, I don't really work full-time. I work about 30 hours a week, unless I have a big project or deadline and then I need to work in the evenings after Tori has gone to bed. I don't like to do that, however; I find if I do, I get really run down quickly and resent the fuck out of it. Evenings  are down time; time to relax, watch TV, and read books. Time to talk to Charlie (we try to take a moment every evening to discuss the next day and find out if we have any special issues to deal with, and how we are going to divide Tori duty) and reconnect. If one of us has a big project with a looming deadline, we rearrange things to accommodate that need.

The real challenge with this lifestyle isn't really time management; it's money management. We recently went through 30 days without pay. Together we had over $8,000 in outstanding billing, but no one was bothering to actually PAY us. We, like most Americans, operate with little in the way of savings so we have to toss lots of things in the air to keep the bills paid and the fridge stocked--and sometimes the bills go unpaid for a bit in favor of groceries. That's just the way it is.

I consider this blog part of my work. I'm sure you've noticed lots of changes in the last ten months or so, and even more since BlogHer. Truth is, I earn money with this blog--not a lot--and I'd like to make more. I blog Monday through Friday now, and I am constantly trying to find ways to increase my ad revenue and my readership. Why?

Because I LOVE writing here. It means a huge amount to me, and I can't imagine my life without it. While I enjoy all the writing I do, what I love more than anything else is to write this blog. This is where my heart lives. Many people have told me that the best way to find happiness in your work is to do what you love, so that is what I am trying to do. I am trying to find a way to make this part of how I make my living--but WITHOUT compromising the primary role (and, I hope, appeal) of the blog.

So. Is this post boring you? I don't blame you a bit.

The main things that sucks about working from home and working for myself is this; one, I'm never truly off duty--I always feel the computer keys calling to me. Two, I do not see any people except Charlie and Tori. I miss seeing others, and having adult conversations. I swear, I've forgotten how to talk to people. I met someone at a party on Saturday night (my first adult party since last Christmas), and all I could talk about was Tori (and the place we both worked, although at different times, and how much it sucked-- nice, right?). This is why I'm trying to schedule a regular Wednesday afternoon playgroup (at Clark Park, around 4pm, should you want to join us) although last week we got rained out (boy, was I pissed).

But overall? I really, really, REALLY hope I never have to work in an office again. Although if I do, I am never going to return to pretending to be someone I'm not--I don't want to look "professional" (meaning, hide the tattoos), and I don't ever again want to be the "face" of an organization. Being who I really am is the very best thing about working for myself.

* Tori's been struggling with AWFUL separation anxiety--last week was hell, culminating in Tori having to leave Sunday School yesterday because she wouldn't stop crying at church. I had to sing my choir part--as the only soprano!--with Tori resting on my shoulder, sighing those little hiccuping sighs. Charlie and I spent the last 24 hours discussing "playgroup" with Tori, and today went much better. Hoping it's just a phase.

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So, dinner, Sunday night in Bethesda, Maryland! W00t! It's on, people. I'm thinking 6:30pm (if you'd rather do later, or earlier, let me know right away). Melissa is also going to be there (yeeha! that means someone even cooler than me will be there!) and she recommended that we all meet here. It's Mexican, meaning margaritas for you moms escaping the kids, and there will be something for most folks, even vegetarians. Yeah! I can't wait to see you all! Just email me if you can definitely come so that I know for sure how many of us there will be so I can make a reservation. Maybe in a private room. Cause I suspect we are gonna be one noisy group of mofos. Heh.

Clarity, with Rambling

I've finally figured it out. I now know why this year I am so much more in touch with the loss of Nicholas and Zachary than I have been previous years. It's so obvious now, I can't believe I didn't think of it before.

It was an election year that year too.

All these feelings--the political outrage, the fragile hope of change--are wrapped up tight in the loss of my sons. I remember writing this post after I got home from the hospital, and despairing because it seemed so clear to me that there was no hope that Kerry would win, that we would be stuck with George Bush for another four years.

No wonder I'm feeling so raw this year. No wonder I'm jumping at shadows, and overreacting to the comments posted by anonymous people that don't give me an email address so I can actually talk to them.

No wonder. God, what a relief to know. I feel like reason, sanity, and perspective have all returned.

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Tori has suddenly developed separation anxiety. Whenever she goes to day care or the "playgroup" she goes to while I go to a couple of recovery meetings every week, she cries and cries and cries when we leave.

I'd worry that it was something about the morning care place that she hated except she's now doing it at all these other places too (my two meetings are at different locations with different babysitters, both of whom she loved as recently as last week). She stops crying a minute or so after I leave (I've stood outside the door listening), but it breaks my heart to see her so upset.

I asked the guru and she said it was normal and to just continue like normal, but GAH. It sucks.

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I don't often pimp things here on this blog (do I? I don't think so), but consider yourself pimped: you simply MUST buy my friend Nancy Falkow's new collaborative album Under the Stars (OK, the group is actually called Sunflow, but whatever, it's Nancy). It's a group of ten gorgeous songs for kids and parents--songs kids will love and parents will gladly play for them because the are AWESOME. In fact, parents may like them better than the kids do. It was originally intended to be an album of lullabies, but it really is something more than that.

My only complaint about the album is that there isn't enough Nancy, but that's because Nancy is one of my favorite singers (hell, one of my favorite people) so I'm biased.

Here's a little music video she did of one of the songs on the album. I hope you like it, and you buy the whole thing and support an awesome musician who should be more famous than she is.

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There's a new review up at my review blog for the WarmMe WarmMouse (cross posted at Type-A Mom).

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I have to thank everyone for the support you gave me with my last post; I'm sorry the comments got so out of hand. I deleted several comments from folks on both sides, and I've closed comments on that post now (I think it's done enough damage). I do feel that I have a better understanding of Susan than I did after her first comment. But I still don't like being called a murderer (can't imagine why).

I watched the debate last night and I was very, very sorry to see choice barely mentioned (and then only by Biden). I really think Palin's choice stance is extreme (she doesn't support abortion, even in cases of rape or incest) and I would have liked America to know that. Overall, though, she did well (albeit a tad robotic--boy was she ever coached!), even if she is also someone that would think I was a murderer.

Sigh.

Enjoy your weekend, folks. I plan to enjoy mine.

You Are Amazing. No, really, you are.

Seriously, people, do you have any idea how spectacularly wonderful you are? I mean, who needs Prozac when y'all are here? Because you have singlehandedly taken this hopeless, depressed, miserable woman and completely turned her around.

While I still have a vested interest in the outcome of this election (and of course want it to go my own way--heh), you have all reminded me that I love people and that people, overall, are pretty great. No matter what happens in November, the American people are not really a nation divided. We have common goals, common hopes and dreams, and believe in each other.

But what was most interesting about the last two posts is that we are all actually in complete agreement. I find that hilarious. Across the board, everyone--conservative, moderate, and liberal--believes the following that makes them feel disenfranchised:

• They are not currently represented by the government.
• No politician currently running for office represents them perfectly.
• The media is totally biased and it's not possible to get the truth about candidates.

Also, everyone loves America. For the same reasons. All of us love this country because:

• Diversity, both in our people and our landscape.
• Our freedoms.
• Our governmental structure and constitution.
• The character of the American people.

I am so glad I did these two posts! What an overwhelming relief to know that in truth, we have more in common than not. I know I'm being mercilessly sunny and optimistic here, but seriously--in this age of divisiveness--when the politicians and the media are trying to drive us apart, don't you think we need to confound them all by coming together?

By the way, for everyone looking for a way to cut through the noise and clutter about the candidates, check this out. This is the site run by the Annenberg Public Policy Center at the University of Pennsylvania, and they routinely check things like campaign ads, policy, etc and tell you what is TRUE and what is NOT. For both sides. No one gets off easy. I hope you find that it helps.

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I just wanted to update you all about a couple of things. First off, I'm continuing my hunt to find new clients so the loss of my main client won't cause me to be, oh, homeless (kidding, kidding; panic, panic). In looking for new ways to get money (and free stuff) I've started a review blog. Since going to BlogHer, lots and lot of folks want to send me stuff for free but I can't accept it without violating my contract with BlogHer Ads (ah, the irony) so I've started this new blog to talk about that stuff. I'll let you know when a new entry appears there (like, um, TODAY when I review Tiny Prints), and I hope you'll read (and subscribe it to your blog reader!). I promise to be just as tough on the products as I am on Republicans. Heh.

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Tori, by the way, has been much better behaved lately. We found out something interesting: her tantrums and hitting and throwing directly corresponded to her watching the TV show Caillou. I watched an episode with her (she demanded it) and to my shock I saw that the little bald monster that is Caillou is shown hitting, throwing, and tantruming on the show. (On an unrelated note, we are working hard at decreasing Tori's TV time, but we still use it a bit to get work done). Since we've been extremely consistent with punishment (and as long as we don't let her get too tired or hungry (as Sarah can attest--Tori knocked Sarah's iced tea into her lap at lunch the other day at lunch by throwing her sippy cup when Tori was both tired and hungry), she's been much better (except for fighting like HELl when it's bedtime. But that's another story). So Caillou is officially banned. We let her watch Oswald instead. Oswald is very nice and polite.

However, we do have a different problem. Tori's morning care program started back up last week, but they've made some changes. The biggest and worst change is that they've combined Tori's class with another one and that class has a teacher she hates and is scared off (and it appears to us that the teacher actually dislikes Tori). Her old teacher is still there too, but we can't drop Tori off if the disliked teacher is the only one in the room; we have to wait with her until the other teacher arrives.

Overall she comes home tired and mostly, as far as we can tell, happy. But she's not like she was last year, begging to not go home when we picked her up. So do we find another place? Express our concerns to the director? Arg. I really don't know what to do. If Tori was totally miserable, the answer would be clear. But she's not, just not as happy as she was. Is that enough reason? I really feel confused.

My church's Sunday School teacher--who Tori loves--also runs a day care, and we're going to go check it out. It's a bit more expensive (sigh--the conundrum of paying for daycare so I can work) but it might be a better alternative. What would you do?

Remembering

Today is that day again, the day I eye planes flying in the sky differently and I wish my house wasn't so close to the airport (it's a few miles away, but still). 9/11 was such a beautiful day seven years ago; I remember driving to work with a neighbor (one of our cars was in the shop, hers or mine, I can't remember which now so we shared a ride to work) and remarking on the amazing day.

But not too long after I got to work, I passed by another office and saw everyone gathered around a television. It wasn't long after that when Sarah called and asked if I knew what was going on. I got her call just in time to see the second plane hit the second tower.

It was an awful day for all of us, but more awful for some. For those that lived in New York then, for those that had family in the towers. Today I find myself thinking of them differently; now that I have Tori I can empathize, so much better, with the magnitude of loss some experienced.

My heart is with those of you still suffering today, and my prayers go out to all of those that lost someone, and to those of us that still feel grief and rage about that day seven years ago.

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Naturally, when I think of grief, I think of my sons. Recently Tori has begun to grasp the idea of siblings, thanks primarily to her closest playmate, a boy about six months older than Tori, who now has a four-month-old baby brother. When we tell Tori that Eli is Samuel's little brother, I wonder what she thinks.

I find myself wanting to tell her about her big brothers, her guardian angels as I like to think of them; even though I'm not big on angels, I like the idea of Tori having two guiding spirits that love her and want the best for her. I haven't said anything to her yet, but I know I want to soon. I want her to grow up knowing about Nicholas and Zachary; I don't want what happened to Charlie to happen to her.

Charlie was 17 when his father died. At the hospital, as he was absorbing the news of his father's passing when he overheard the priest say, "At least he's with his daughter now." Charlie, until that moment, had never heard that he'd had an older sister*. It was a terrible way for him to find out.

So I'm curious; how have you guys handled this issue? What do you say?

*Charlie's older sister Victoria Ann died a few days after she was born. While on a trip to Europe, Charlie's mother was given thalidomide to treat her morning sickness; the medication caused Victoria to be deformed so badly she couldn't survive. And yes, Tori is named after her aunt, although we put an E on the end of Anne to also name her after my mother, and of course her second middle name is after my best friend Sarah.

Politics Interruptus

I am interrupting my political rants (and oh, do I have them--but I'll wait until after McCain's speech tonight) to kvetch a bit about parenting. Although I will say this--according the Cambodian gentleman that did my nails (beautifully, I might add) today (shut up--every couple weeks I go to a cheap nail place and treat myself. ON YOUR ORDERS, if I recall. "Cecily, do something nice for yourself..." See?) told me that he is 98% sure that Obama will win. Now, THAT'S a relief.

Anyway, parenting. Charlie and I are managing beautifully without a babysitter, thanks to a couple of tricks. Each night we are going over the next day, figuring out who has the biggest workload, and breaking down who is responsible for Tori and when. It has helped a TON. This way we constantly check in on each other, neither of us feels overwhelmed, and we get done what we need to throughout the day. Toss in the fact that we are alternating who gets to sleep in and who does the cooking, we've got a good system going on.

But that is NOT to say that I CANNOT wait for Tori's morning care program to begin again--which it doesn't until September 10. Gah. The reason? Well, apparently Tori has become possessed by the devil.

I'm not sure if she's missing her babysitter or what, but she has been incredibly tough to deal with. Seriously, if she were an adult she's be committed against her will for undergoing a manic episode. One minute she's happy as could be, the next she is screaming. Oh, the screaming. And the hitting! Formerly an occasional issue, it is now chronic. And the throwing of toys! Again, now a chronic problem.

We've done putting her in her crib, and that has helped. Yesterday I tried a traditional time out again and I could see, finally, that she GOT IT--she knew she was being punished, and she knew she was in trouble, and she was very, very upset. She started shaking and crying and OH MY GOD how hard it was not to comfort her right then (of course I did a minute or so later). But seriously, it's impossible. She has, in the last few days, done the following: poured a full glass of water on me and the couch; thrown three books, a train and a car at my face; kicked me in the face while changing her diaper; and slapped me--HARD--while trying to dress her.

I know this is normal, but HOLY FUCKING SHIT, how do you survive?

In case you think I'm exaggerating, here is my attempt to do a video blog post earlier today:

And that's not even HALF of how badly she's been behaving. She has a complete, END OF THE FUCKING WORLD tantrum every single time she doesn't get her way. Like, when I have to pee. Or we give her the wrong fork. It's like catering to a tiny, adorable psychotic. I'm going to survive, right? RIGHT?*

*While writing this she had to go into a time out for running into the street. AGAIN. We're going to have to keep her in her crib 24 hours a day, I swear.

Hand, Foot, Mouth: Not the usual story either

First off, I am going to make a confession: I AM A HORRIBLE PERSON. So, please, read the rest of this post with that fully in the forefront of your mind. OK? Cecily=asshole. So.

Charlie is sick. At first it was just a bad sore throat that wouldn't go away. Luckily, unlike the last sore throat he had that wouldn't go away that he allowed to turn into a raging infection before he'd see a doctor, he went on Friday to get checked out. The doctor wasn't sure, but she suspected that he had Hand, Foot and Mouth disease thanks to the weird bumps in his throat. By Friday night, Charlie developed the tell-tale lesions on his hands, confirming the diagnosis (and yes, it usually only affects children). Charlie prefers to call it by the much more frightening-sounding Coxsackie Virus, and on Saturday morning was to be found perched in a chair googling the virus and uttering frequent "oh my gods."

I tried to be sympathetic, I swear. I really did. After all, we've only just achieved this fabulous peace and harmony in our marriage and I want nothing more than to keep that peace. But frankly, I got pretty snappy once Charlie started saying things like, "I'd better go check into a hotel so I don't give this to Tori."

I suggested he call the doctor again and let her know that he was feeling worse, and find out what his chance was of giving us all the disease. When that doctor didn't call back quickly enough to make Charlie stop doing his anxiety dance about it, I broke one of those codes of friendship and contacted our two friends that are doctors. Doctor Friend One laughed with me, which was nice, and told him not to worry too much, but did agree that canceling a family lunch that included Charlie's nursing-home-residing mother was a good idea. Doctor Friend Two assured Charlie that his hands with the lesions weren't toxic and he was still responsible for changing the occasional diaper. Both doctor friends felt fairly certain that Tori's cold (and mine, probably) a week or so ago was probably actually this virus, and that she's already had it and so is not at risk. Not long after those conversations, Charlie's doctor also called back and repeated all of the above.

My friends, I'm afraid it wasn't long after that when I began to lose my patience. I believe the words, "Look, it's not fucking PRE-ECLAMPSIA!" left my mouth. Yes, indeed, I went there. I know he's sick, but seriously--let's get real. Men, God love 'em, are the worst patients in the universe.

You've all seen this, right?

Is that not the best characterization of a sick man that you've ever seen?

Humor aside, what I really hate about the situation isn't his illness. He's really sick--it's obvious by the amount of ibuprofen and Tylenol he keeps taking for the throat, and how much he's sleeping. I won't deny it. What I hate about it is my complete and utter inability to be sympathetic. Part of it is because I handle illness so differently; last week when I had a sore throat and a cold I pretty much went on as normal with the one exception being I slept a bit more--but only during Tori's naps. Charlie's illness has, of course, thrown our new found "balance" system aside (what were all those comments about how something would come along and throw the balance off? Did that have to come so true fucking IMMEDIATELY?), so I spent most of the weekend doing single parenthood. Which is understandable (Good Lord, how do single parents manage? I can't handle a day and a half. Oh, and Charlie got up with the baby on Sunday and let me sleep in. Yeah.), but makes me cranky. Unreasonably so.

When Tori is sick, I can tenderly administer medication, gently wipe her nose, and coo soothing songs to her without feeling at all put upon. When the dog is in pain, I happily shove pain pills down his throat, make him special treats, and pat him extra and tell him I love him. When Sarah is sick, I'll drive across town to make sure she has chicken soup (although her father always beats me there). But Charlie? I mutter angrily, stomp around, make him food reluctantly, and fetch him pills with all the kindness and grace of Oscar the Grouch.

Which makes me an asshole.

I need a magic wand to wave over me and instill a sympathy gene in my DNA specifically geared toward my husband. In a hurry. Because frankly, my unkind attitude is fucking up our new found happiness. Gah.

Princesses and other gender issues

So, as Charlie so eloquently wrote about, a few days ago Tori donned her swimsuit cover up (a terry cloth striped dress thing) and twirled around and announced, "I'm a princess!"

We were horrified.

I have no idea where she got the notion of princess from. It's not that I'm anti-princess--well, OK. I am anti-princess. I do not want Tori to ever buy into the notion that she just needs to sit back and some MAN will come and rescue her from something. I hate that idea. My mom fought hard to keep that notion from settling with me (and I think she succeeded). I don't want Tori to descend into the whole princess ideal, so she doesn't see TV shows or movies that involve princesses and we don't read any books that involve princesses. When she's older and we can discuss the concepts and shortcomings of princesses we'll go ahead, and then maybe I'll introduce her to the super cool princesses that occur in my fantasy novels--women that are smart, strong leaders that can also kick ASS.

I find myself more and more strongly about protecting and nurturing the strong, smart, curious and athletic child that I see Tori becoming, and that makes me want to keep things from her that will tell her that she's a girl, and that because she's a girl a whole lot of people believe that she shouldn't do many of the things she loves.

Some will think I'm paranoid (and some will think I am judging them harshly because they love their princesses and love sharing them with their daughters, but I am not--this is for me, and my daughter only), but I'm a daughter of a feminist and a feminist myself, so I find sexism and enforced gender roles easy to spot among all the marketing that's done to children. I mean, every big box store has one or two toy aisles dedicated to girls and everything is PINK. Tori likes some pink things; but she also likes trains, and cars, and building things--items you will not find in the girl's toy section of a store--as well as the occasional tiara or fancy dress. I want Tori to feel comfortable embracing ALL aspects of her personality and her preferences.

I'm not sure why I would think we've come farther than this by now. It's clear we have not; just the other day an article about BlogHer--a conference featuring over 1,000 powerhouse women that sponsors were falling all over themselves trying to impress--was put in the Fashion & Style section of the New York Times. Worse, the conference was described in such condescending tones I wanted to scream (quote: " a corporate-sponsored Oprah-inflected version of a ’60s consciousness-raising group." Seriously? It wasn't even REMOTELY like that, but because there was a "lactation room" it's a hippy Oprah event. AAARRRRRGGGGGGG!). In case you are wondering, conferences that feature male bloggers? End up in either the business or technology section.

Gender roles are still being enforced all around us, every day. I want so much to protect my daughter from them, so she can grow to be comfortable in her own skin. Because if I've learned anything these 40 years I've been alive, it's that enforced roles cause nothing but self-hatred.

It was with this attitude in mind that I listened to a story on NPR about transgendered children not too long ago. The story features two different families with boys that they feel were identifying with "girl" toys rather than traditional boys toys. Now, it may well be that these children are truly transgendered--but that determination sprung from the idea that the children were playing with the "wrong" toys.

The two families featured in the NPR story take two different roads with their kids. One family sees a therapist that tries to force the child to identify only with his born gender; the other family allows their son to call himself a girl, grow his hair long, and wear girl's clothing--even at school. If Tori were like these kids, I would assuredly go along the route that the second family took--I would allow Tori to be whoever she wanted to be, even if that meant she identified as male (although I would probably not be comfortable with the relatively new practice of hormone suppression in children to prevent them from entering puberty until they are old enough to make a specific choice about gender; I wish I could find a link explaining this but I cannot. Basically, hormones are given so that the children do not develop secondary sex characteristics, such as an Adam's apples or wide hips and breasts. This way, if the child decides to have gender reassignment surgery, they appear more "natural" as their gender choice as adults). But I would only do that because I just don't believe that there are any appearances, behaviors, or attitudes that are gender specific.

I'll say that again; I do not believe that there are any specific behaviors, ways of dressing, or attitudes that are specifically male or female. I believe, quite firmly, that I would love my eyeliner as much as I do whether I was male or female. I also love fixing things and building things, regardless of my gender. And even though I am technically female, I still hate asking for directions when I'm lost and, oddly, Charlie--who is most assuredly male--doesn't mind asking for directions at all.

I often find myself wondering if we were less gender-focused with children as young as Tori, would there be fewer folks that identify as transgendered? If boys were allowed to just wear dresses sometimes, and girls were allowed to play with dump trucks, would those kids as adults feel so constricted by gender identity that they would undergo a fairly brutal series of surgeries to change that?

I don't know much about this, so I asked my friend Jon. When I met Jon, he identified as a woman--a butch lesbian, but a woman. Jon now identifies as masculine, pansexual, intersexed, guy (he explains that a bit here). This is what he has to say:

To me, transsexualism is about the body. Transgender is about gender role. If the body is fine, but the imposed role is wrong, then it's about the role... the gender assignment. The fact that people think that in order to be a woman, a person has to have certain parts, is pretty twisted... and, I think, a mentality which affects people in very negative ways. There's no reason that a woman should feel less of a woman if she loses a breast to cancer. There's no reason that a small penis should make a man feel less of a man. I think that people not being taught to separate sex from gender is something which does nothing but cause pain. To me, that surgery is recommended to men who enjoy lingerie, long hair, and getting their nails done is simply brutal... and it is sexist. Pink may be a feminine thing, but it is not a female thing.

I also really like what Jon said about the hormone suppression of transgendered children in one of our emails:

Aside from the fact that the "sex" hormones are responsible for more than just the "secondary sex characteristics" and so are needed as a person is growing, it would mean that the stereotyping and polarizing of both sex and gender would be supported, and I don't think that's the way to go. What is a woman supposed to look like? What is a man supposed to look like? Is it not more important to further educate people and to grow as a culture/society by supporting the truth, which is that sex, gender, and sexuality are all just stereotypes? That it's all a continuum?

I couldn't agree more with the last statement: that sex, gender, and sexuality are all on a continuum: some folks are attracted to just men, some both men and women, some just women. Some people identify with female gender stereotypes, some with male and female gender stereotypes, and some just male gender stereotypes. And, honestly, I think there are few of us that completely end up at either end of the spectrum.

I am very interested in what you think, but I think this could very easily be a place where the comments get ugly, so let's practice some basic kindness. Talk about your opinions only, without condemning others that disagree with you--OK?

Cursing

So, I just got the MOST interesting comment (and yes, I'm being sarcastic, but I think it raises some interesting points and I'm curious what everyone else thinks.

Molly (who of course left no email, has never commented here before, and has visited a total of three times for a total of 12 minutes and 47 seconds, and yes, Molly, I can tell--I also know what city you live in) says:

Just my thoughts, but did you ever stop to think that the way you talk to your child and the curse words you use can injure you child just as badly as a physical slap? Don't get me wrong, I don't agree with the violence you describe, but you are an educated woman, surely you can find better word choices than the violence you spew from your mouth. I'm sure Tori has heard it, that kind of language is filthy and leaves those in the wake of it feeling dirty and ashamed. Don't let the kettle call the pot black. In other words you are no example of prime motherhood.

First of all: I never, ever, EVER curse at Tori. I want to be VERY clear about that. I have never once admonished her with curse words, nor do I ever plan to.

However, yes, I have cursed in front of her. No, I do not feel like I am causing her any harm, and considering how frequently she parrots us she has only said a swear word once or twice herself (both times it was "shit" and yes, she used it in context).

Being told that I am spewing "violence" from my mouth when I swear seems, to me, a bit harsh. I think you can hurt a child with words considerably without EVER swearing. Statements such as some of my commenters mentioned like, "You're worthless" or "You're stupid" or "You're ugly" can cause far more harm than me calling a driver that cut me off in traffic a "fucking idiot" in front of my daughter. I also think it's patently unfair for Molly to insinuate that I am abusing my daughter by swearing on my blog.

As for whether or not I am a "prime example of motherhood," well. Have I ever claimed to be? I do know this; I love my daughter beyond reason, and I treat her as if she is the most valuable thing in the world. Which she is.

As Tori gets older, there is no doubt that Charlie and I are swearing less in front of her. But in my blog, I have a long, long time where I get to continue to "speak" in my natural voice, and yes, that means swearing. Tori is TWO. She does NOT read my blog. She does NOT surf the web. I mean, COME ON.

Sigh.

I don't usually grant a commenter that says something I dislike so much space, but I'm interested in others opinions. I know there are many of you that don't like my swearing, but manage to see through it to my heart. Do you think the use of "bad" language injures children? I don't think so; I think words are words and are not bad or good. I think people are bad/good (you know, words don't hurt people, people hurt people). But that is me. What do you think?

And when stating your opinion, let's not attack Molly. She might not have phrased it well, but I think her heart is in a good (albeit judge mental) place. Let's try not to attack me either, m'kay? Just state your feelings and leave out others. :)

Depressing Things (Warning: I get judgemental in this post)

So we've just spent a crazy 18 hours trying desperately to entertain the insane toddler that has taken over the body of my daughter Tori (or as Charlie likes to call her, the angry general). Yesterday afternoon we took her to a fancy ass playground, which was hot, and today to our local aquarium, which was a complete motherfucking nightmare. What the hell was I thinking? Oh, right--we had a 50% off coupon. Sigh. So did, apparently, EVERYONE ELSE IN THE FUCKING UNIVERSE.

Ultimately, it was fun. And Tori of course LOVED IT. But one thing I noticed was HOLY CRAP do other people hit their children a lot. I don't want to judge other parents, but (allow me to go ahead and judge other parents) I have to wonder what is UP with that. The worst part is that each time I witnessed a child hit today it just seemed so fucking arbitrary.

A while back a woman slapped her child's face because the child said to me, "You're fat!" I remember the child glaring at me afterwords like, geez, lady, if you hadn't been so fucking fat I wouldn't have gotten hit. It was horrible. Not only did the poor girl get slapped, but she also learned an important life lesson: that "fat" is a BAD WORD (I prefer to view it as being no different than "short" or "tall" or, of course, "thin." It's merely descriptive). I mean, did the mother think that it was NEWS to me that I was fat? Cause honestly, I ALREADY FUCKING KNEW.

But at least the cause and effect was clear for the hitting. Today I witnessed four different kids get smacked--on the head (two), the arm, and the rear end--just for looking at things on the wrong side of the hallway. Instead of looking at the fish on the left, they looked at the fish on the right. Apparently, their parents wanted them to look at different fish. IT'S A MOTHERFUCKING AQUARIUM. ALL THEY HAVE IS FISH.

It really freaked me out. I don't worry so much about people yelling at their kids; I had someone who had a mother that was a yeller explain to me that it was just part of his culture, that all the women yelled, and it was how the kids knew their mothers cared. I don't get it, but I no longer worry about it. But the hitting? I really don't understand.

I think part of it is rooted in fear; I mean, Tori was all over the place today too and it was so crowded that sometimes it got a bit scary (and makes me long for a child that would willingly get into her ritzy ass stroller). Part of it is rooted in resentment and entitlement, perhaps: No, I want to look at these fish here therefore you must look at them too. I know it's also passed down--chances are, every hitting parent was a child that was hit.

But it doesn't have to be that way. Charlie's mom was a hitter, and he would never dream of hitting Tori. In fact at lunch today, when we were discussing this, he said he hadn't noticed the hitting because none of the parents wound up for the punch or slap like his mom did; so he remained unfazed. If Charlie is any example, this is a practice that could easily be phased out of our society.

(I'm not, by the way, lumping into this group of parents I'm judging so horribly the parent that does the occasional spanking. I understand the smack on the ass a kid gets when he or she has done something dangerous--I might not do it, but I understand it. I find that hitting a kid in the head or face, though, really distressing--until the teenage years. I called my mom a bitch when I was 15 and she slapped me and I well deserved it).

Anyway, to make things worse, when we got home we were greeted by the police. Apparently, our old pal Fred (you know, the homeless drug addict Charlie and I have been trying to help get clean for the last nine months) has been in trouble again. After he got kicked out of the church for the last time a few months ago, we bought him a YMCA membership so that he would at least be able to shower. Well, apparently, the idiot broke in to the YMCA and stole their cash box--and he was filmed doing it. And, with typical addict arrogance and stupidity, he returned to the YMCA for a shower two days later. The entire staff--having viewed the robbery tape--knew it was him and called the police.

Sigh.

Sometimes humanity is just so. fucking. awful.

Sigh.

Anyway. I can't end this post this way. So here's a rare shot of Tori full-on smiling (these days when you ask her to smile she grimaces and squeezes her eyes shut). More photos will be at my Flickr account shortly.

Demon Child, Crazy Mom

Today, an hour or so into church, I began to seriously consider the merits of spanking. Seriously.

I don't know what has gotten into Tori, but since her second birthday, it's like I'm attempting to parent a small fairly adorable demon. Tori is willful, stubborn, pushy, challenging,and determined. She's also agile, clever, strong, and wily.

It's making me crazy.

Of course, there is some PMS going on right at the moment as well, but honestly, I feel completely and utterly at my wit's end about sixteen times a day now. Tori has always refused to hold my hand, and for a while what worked was just letting her protest while continuing to hold her hand until she gave up and walked with her hand being held. But now? Now she throws herself down so hard on the ground that she cracks her skull. Fine on the carpets at home, but a problem at the pool where it's all cement. She doesn't listen, will no longer indulge in the "freeze" game, and has an utterly spectacular capacity to walk away at the speed of light right into the most dangerous thing in the nearest vicinity.

I know this is normal. All two-year-olds do it (right?). But how in the motherfucking hell do you survive as a parent? When I put her to bed every night, I like the last thing she hears from to be "I love you." Tonight, after I put her to bed (although she is still currently chattering on the monitor), I said, "Stay asleep for the love of God until tomorrow, PLEASE." I hate myself, but I am so damned beaten down right now that all I can think about it swimming in a sea of chocolate far, far away from here.

A month ago, I was absolutely dreading going to BlogHer and leaving her behind (not dreading going, just leaving her behind). Now? July 17th can not possibly get here fast enough. I CANNOT WAIT to spend just a few days away from this child. Am I a horrible person? Does it help to know that I've never spent more than three hours away from her ever?

Arg.

I spoke with Charlie (and by spoke, I mean I hollered at the top of my lungs) about him taking Tori out of the house for a few hours once a week. I take Tori out by myself at least three times a week giving him some time home alone. I do sneak out to a movie every couple of weeks, but I usually go when she's napping so that he doesn't have to handle her too long by himself. I really need more.

I know we've talked about this before, this need to take care of yourself so that you can take care of your  child(ren). It is so hard to make that a habit. It is so easy for me to just continue to be her universe. But I am so. damned. tired. at the end of each day now. Something has to give, and I don't want it to be my sanity.

I wrote a bit in my Type-A Mom post that I haven't written too much in my regular blog about how difficult parenting has been for me lately. I hate venting about Tori too much in a negative way, even though I desperately need to do it. I know I sound ungrateful when I talk about how much of a struggle it is to parent a toddler at 40. But damn it, it IS hard, and I feel completely and utterly crazy sometimes.

It will get better. For one, I will get my period and stop having PMS and my patience level will rise dramatically. Secondly, since her morning care program is over for the summer, we managed to hire a babysitter to come in a few mornings a week (at a reasonable hourly rate, too). God willing, I will begin to feel like a human being soon when I have some time to myself.

But until then, I plan to continue to be crazy and sometimes find myself crying at the end of the day. And now I must go, since Tori is calling for me over and over and over again...

The Big P-O-T-T-Y Question

So. Tori is, as you all know, nearly two. Everyone around me with kids her age are talking about potty training. So what have we done about that?

NOTHING.

We don't have a mini-potty for her to play with or practice on. We haven't broached the subject at all, except to begin mentioning to her that Mommy and Daddy poop and pee in the toilet. We have no books, no cute little DVDs, and no potty training doll (do those exist?). We have nothing. Nothing at all.

Now, in our defense, at Tori's 18 month check up I asked her pediatrician about it. She said, "Eh, don't bother until you start getting dry diapers overnight." Tori wakes up now with moderately wet diaper (not heavy-soaked-through like she used to) about 75% of the time. But I have no idea if that's what the pediatrician meant, or if she meant BONE DRY.

My closest personal experience with this comes from Sarah, who potty trained her daughter very quickly. When her daughter was about three and a half, Sarah told her she would take her to Sesame Place if she started using the potty. The next day, her daughter announced that she was done with diapers and immediately switched to underwear. That was it.

That is highly appealing to me, however, it means another year and a half of diapers. I am so not sure if I'm up to that. I feel like we should start doing SOMETHING but I really have no idea what.

So. I am ready for your suggestions and ideas. Instruct me, oh wise ones. BUT I suspect this issue has just as much potential for contention and argument as any other parenting issue, so let's keep it to our own experience and not argue. M'kay?

Bring it on. We need all the help we can get.

Mother's Day

It was Mother's Day again today. I woke up as I often do--with a splitting migraine. Charlie got up with Tori and I had a blissfully medicated extra hour of sleep, and then got up to make breakfast for a trailer full of people (I did have help, thanks to Sarah's daughter). Sarah, the other mother present, ended up doing the dishes.

Mostly what today was--and I am grateful for it--was NORMAL. It was simply another day.

Mother's Day is like navigating a field of  land mines for those going through infertility. I lived through at least four Mother's Day celebrations while trying to get pregnant. The worst one, of course, came three years ago after I'd lost the twins (oddly enough, when I went back to find what I'd written that year, I find that I was so busy buying and selling a house that I managed to stuff my feelings completely and I didn't write about it at all).

Last year on Mother's Day I was still full of bitterness, even though I had Tori. I'm not sure why, but I think while Tori was a baby I found myself feeling the loss of the boys so much more acutely than I do now, both because of the passage of time and the fact that I've never really been able to think of the boys as anything other than babies (if you know what I mean).

This year, though, I am so tired from chasing a toddler around that I find myself just feeling grateful that the only real thing I noticed about the day is that I didn't have to change a poopy diaper. Which is a pretty awesome Mother's Day present, after all.

Today was just a day. I paused several times today to hug Tori and thank her for making me her mother. But that's about it. I didn't honor or acknowledge the day otherwise (oh, ok, I called MY mother).

It's not that I've forgotten about the infertile years. Or that the scars from those years have faded in any way. But I no longer feel like the world is full of sharp and pointy edges that will snag my heart and rip it to pieces at any given moment.

And that has made this my favorite Mother's Day so far.

I hope some of you feel the same, and for those who still find the world sharp and pointy, I'm thinking about you. May you someday also enjoy a Mother's Day free of poopy diapers; but while you wait, I'll keep you in my heart and in my prayers. I hope today wasn't too awful for you.

Update + Pity Party!

So, wow--struck a chord with that last post, eh?

After reading everyone's responses, yesterday we headed off to the playground determined that Tori would hold my hand while walking to the park.

YIKES.

She REALLY didn't want to. And by that I mean, screaming, crying, flinging herself down onto the sidewalk in dismay. We made it about fifteen feet. Every time she fell to the ground I'd let go of her hand/arm, and then when she tried to walk I grabbed it again. I said, quietly and firmly, "Walk? Playground? Slide? Hold hand!" Over and over and over again. Finally, after she was crying so hard she was starting to choke and puke, and flinging herself down on the concrete sidewalk hard enough to bruise, I just picked her up and brought her home, washed her face, and gave her some juice.

She was SO MAD AT ME. For HOURS after. I cannot convey to you how much this took out of us both, and how awful it was, and how horrid I felt. I can't do this every day. I simply can't.

So, we went to Tarjay, and let Tori pick out a backpack leash thing (by pick, I let her choose between the bear and the monkey--she chose the bear, which surprised me--she loves monkeys). We put it on her as a test to walk over to a nearby restaurant to eat lunch and...OH. MY. GOD.

It was heaven.

It's the first time I have felt safe walking with her in public in six months. I cannot tell you how much stress was lifted away from me, how my shoulders relaxed. People gave us looks--yes they did--and perhaps I did feel a need to announce to each one that "She's run into the street three times!" (which did cure the looks, by the way)--but MAN it was such a relief. I plan to use it often. I realize that it doesn't allow her to learn control, but you know what? SHE'S NOT EVEN TWO YET. She doesn't turn two until JUNE. She'll get there.

The other thing we are doing is playing "Freeze." We did it this morning inside and it was great fun. I plan to do play again at the park this afternoon, and keep doing it every day until it's second nature for her.

All in all, great advice and sympathy from everyone. Thank you so much. On a funny note, today when we got home from shopping and lunch, we parked in front of the house instead of in the driveway (so Charlie could take his other car out) and Tori had to walk on the sidewalk a bit. So I held her hand (she didn't have the backpack on since she can't wear it in the car seat), and when she resisted--with her usual methods of going limp, crying, and yanking at her arm--I just stood still until she stopped. And guess what? After just a few seconds, she held my hand all the way to the front door.

Maybe this won't be so hard after all. I think I hadn't realized just how often we give in to her demands rather than listen to the screaming--and that, my friends, is the ultimate problem, of course. God willing, with some hard work on our part, in a few weeks she'll be much better--and maybe she'll survive to actually see that second birthday.

___________________________________________

So, as I've mentioned about a gazillion times, tomorrow is my birthday. And as those of you who follow me on Twitter (Twitter updates are those things under my picture--where you post super mini blog updates--I'm totally addicted) already know, I was having quite the pity party for myself last night. See, weeks ago I decided to have a BIG PARTY. But thanks to a rather hilarious series of events, my big party has shrunk down to about, oh, six or seven people. With Sarah and her hubby and daughter as three of those people, and me and Charlie as another two.

Sigh.

One of the funny things about getting older is that you tend to winnow down your friendships, and not have a big huge group of "party buddies" that can help you ring in a big birthday. Or at least that's been true for me. Rather than have several dozen semi-friends (as I did in my youth), I've chosen to have just a handful of really close friends and work hard on those relationships. So it's not really a shock that all those people that I used to be closer to, or are local blogging buddies I see a couple times a year, or are "city" friends I don't see that often anymore don't feel any great urge to set aside time to help me celebrate a day that, to me, feels like a big deal (anyone reading this that falls in that category and suddenly feels bad--I am SO not trying to make you feel guilty here. I totally understand; I don't come to some of your things either. I know).

But that doesn't mean I don't feel a bit sad and regretful about it.*

I didn't realize I felt sad about that, but combined with the low friend turnout for the poetry reading (I sent the invitation to over 75 people; two came), and I just was feeling pretty god damned shitty last night. So I threw myself a big ol' pity party and invited some chocolate (just a tiny bit) and some cheetos. Then I watched a lot of TV that didn't help (oh, let's see; Betty had a rotten birthday on Ugly Betty, and there was a placental abruption on ER).

And then guess what happened? I got my period this morning.

Ooooooooooooh.

Pity party OVER.

*Don't feel the need to powder my ass about this. I really do feel OK today. You don't have to leave a bunch of comments about how you'd come to my party if you lived closer, cause I already totally know that you would. :) You can just say happy birthday and leave it at that.

One of Those Annoying Mothering Confessions

So, I've become a yeller.

This is the last thing I want to be. It's not like I have a family history of it either; my mom faced plenty of hurdles raising me and I have to say, I have no memories of her yelling much until I was a teenager (then, alas, said yelling was sadly deserved). But me? I yell. I yell at Tori constantly.

And I hate myself for it.

Plus, it's completely ineffective.

Even as I type this I want to explain myself, and blame Tori--blame her spirited ways (and yes, before eight million people say it, I will get that book), her challenging sheer physicality, her incredible curiosity, and her grabby grabby grabbiness (a couple of days ago she climbed up onto a dining room chair, onto the table, found the salt shaker, and salted the entire first floor. Then danced in it). I want to throw up my hands and say, "It's not my fault! I just don't know what else to do!"

But I don't want to keep doing it, and, like I said, IT DOESN'T REALLY WORK.

The underlying issue is fear, of course. Tori has now not once, not twice, but three times run into the street. She is very fast, refuses to hold our hands (she cries and lies down if we try) and when carried lunges about so strongly that both Charlie and I think we have concussions from being head butted. So if we are walking to the playground (a mere block away), we have to try to herd her to keep her out of the street. And if we come to a driveway, she sees the downhill slope and is all like WHEE! and runs right down it into the street. Honestly, I don't think it should require the full attention of two adults to walk a toddler a block.

But see, I'm doing it again, I'm explaining how it's Tori's fault, her over exuberant behavior that causes both me and Charlie to frequently exclaim "TORI! NO!" at top volume. Tori's reaction? About 50% of the time, she turns around to see what the excitement is all about.

Gah.

This whole thing is made to seem even worse by our wonderful neighbors who have a boy about six months older than Tori that Tori loves to play with.  We spend a fair amount of time either in our front yards or in their back yard. These neighbors never yell. They admonish their son gently and with love and he responds to it every single time. Even though they just had a second baby, they still never raise their voices. Admittedly, when they gently admonish Tori, she completely fucking ignores them the same way she completely fucking ignores us. 

I don't know what to do. I'm not sure I'm asking for advice here; in fact, let's just say I'm not, that instead I'd prefer sympathy and empathy. Right now advice would feel a bit too much like punishment (I'm having a sensitive day, what can I say--I just stopped taking birth control pills so my hormones are whacked and I'm turning 40 Saturday!).

I will say that whole "talk to your toddler like a Neanderthal" thing does work with Tori occasionally. Using short word combinations I know she knows and looking her dead in the eye can get her to respond (mostly "No kick Mommy!" and "Slide? Playground? Eat lunch!" that sort of thing). But even that is useless in communicating to her that if she runs into the street when a car is coming... I can't even think about it.

My options seem to be to restrict her further--like not allow her on the front lawn unless we fence it in (which NO ONE in our neighborhood does, I'm sure it would NOT go over well), put her on a damned leash, or just not go outside. I could put her in the stroller to walk the block to the park except the only thing she hates more than holding my hand is the stroller (plus, the whole point is to get her to exercise, and walking is good for her!).

Damn it. I just want my daughter to be safe, and that's why I yell, because she terrifies me with her fearlessness and bravery and curiosity.  But the yelling is just increasing MY anxiety and not improving her behavior, so it's got to go.

Man. Just tell me that this gets easier soon, OK?

The New Hip Thing: Being Frugal

So I read this interesting article in Newsweek and it added to the already busy swirl of money shit going on in my brain. Charlie and I are coming to the end of a kind of a financially flush period; and by "flush" I mean that for a little while we had a little extra, thanks to cashing in my retirement plan when I left my job in May and some residual cash from selling his mother's condo (most of that money is dedicated to her long term care, however). Hence our buying the new minivan, going on vacation, and buying the trailer in the mountains (although we have an interview on Thursday to see if we are good enough people to live in a trailer park in the Poconos; that should be interesting since I just dyed my hair pink. Yeah.).

But as the cash pile is dwindling (the last of it, really, is going to the place in the mountains--a good investment, surely, but still... sigh), we are turning our eyes critically to our budget and thinking about ways to "trim the fat" as the article states and make some changes that will help reel in our spending.

First to go, sadly, is the Irish Girl. The Irish Girl is what we have called the various young Irish women that have been cleaning our house since I was pregnant with Tori. As you might remember, I was not allowed to clean while I was pregnant, and while Charlie technically could have done the cleaning he decided it was cheaper to pay someone else rather than listen to me tell him how he did it wrong. Heh. We got kind of addicted to having a nice young woman come and scrub our bathroom and microwave and mop our floors once every two weeks, and it seemed to be pretty cheap at $60 a visit. But with tipping, and adding more cleaning area (my office, say, and wiping out the fridge, that sort of thing) it's gotten to be more like $80 every two weeks and as sweet as our latest Irish Girl is (we're on the fourth; apparently, all these young women come here to get certified as soccer instructors, which may seem odd, but actually helps them get jobs back home) she doesn't actually clean all that well (the third Irish Girl, on the other hand, was a goddess) so... we've decided that's the first big expense we're cutting out. I hate calling to fire someone, but I don't think the Irish Girl will be all that crushed. She's hardly what I would call enthusiast.

Next up, I took some inspiration from that article and gave my cable company a call and pointed out to them that they give new customers a better deal than they give folks like us, their long term loyal customers. We have everything with them--phone, TV, Internet--so after extensive negotiations, we saved...$15 a month. Sigh. I'd hoped for more, but still, it's something. Next up is calling our cell phone company because truthfully we use only about 1/3 of our minutes these days so we can probably do much better there.

I wish we could negotiate where the REAL expense is; our medical insurance. We are still paying $1,100 for the three of us and we have not been able to find a way to save anything there (it does look, by the way, like my migraine stuff will be covered--thank you for your helpful tips there!). There is just no bending there, no matter what we do. We're lucky, in fact, to be able to afford coverage at all. I'd love to switch Tori to the state CHIP plan (Pennsylvania allows anyone of any income to buy into the plan, and it would change Tori's insurance fees from $250 to $68 a month for the same coverage) but she would have to be uninsured first to qualify. And after being an uninsured child myself, I am completely unwilling to allow her to spend a single second without coverage. Not one second.

So I'm not sure where else we can save. Here's a question for you experts; we've considered refinancing our mortgage. While we're not paying a terrifically high interest (about 7.3%, we think), we're not paying the lowest rate out there, and with the local machinations of the feds we are wondering if we can get a better deal and bring our mortgage payment down a bit. If you are in the field, drop me an email--I'd love your advice.

Also, as you may have heard, food prices are up between 15 and 20%. That article I linked to has some sites listed that can help you get coupons and help you save at the grocery store. I need to get better about doing that--I never clip coupons, and I don't remember to bring grocery store cards with me to the store (I didn't have one the other day and it hurt me to the tune of about $20, I think). I really need to get better about that.

What frugal tips do you have? I'm eager to learn more as I start tightening the belt, so to speak. As I approach my 40th birthday (I know, I just won't shut up about that, will I?), I find myself thinking more and more about being a responsible adult.

Frankly, it really sucks.

___________________________________________

If there is anyone in Connecticut that has been through a loss like mine with the boys--where you had to medically terminate a pregnancy--and you might be willing to speak about it publicly and be an advocate, please drop me an email. There's a congressman that will be holding some town meetings in April that needs to be called on his shit (he claims that no provision for the "health" of the mother is necessary, for both incredibly racist and sexist reasons--you can review here for why the health instead of just life is necessary). Thanks!

Time To Ask The Internets

Sorry I've been so MIA of late. Things have been a little crazy around these parts. Our friend, the one we've been trying to help, has been doing some major fucking up of late and it's been spilling into our lives in some big ways. The latest thing? He broke into our house on Saturday while we were out (all he took, however, was the money he'd earned that we were holding for him to pay off someone. Yikes). Yeah, I know. Yeah, we're still trying to help him (within reason; he will no longer be working for our friends, or us, and we'll be keeping our help focused entirely on just keeping him clean and sober). Yeah, we're probably crazy (Sarah thinks so). Yeah, we're installing a security system too.  Why the security system? Because a week from today, we are leeeeeaving! On a jet plane! Don't know when we'll be back again!

Actually, I do know when we'll be back. We are flying from Philadelphia to Phoenix on Monday, February 11th (five hours straight through, baby, ye gods), renting a car and driving up to see our friend Dave! in Tucson for about a week, then driving to Albuquerque to see some family for a bit less than a week, then spending a night at the Grand Canyon (we will of course, in a nod to Charlie's hobby, be staying here although we can't ride the train--too long a ride for Tori, sadly) and then heading back to Tucson for a few more days before flying back to Philly on February 27th. Luckily, we'll be bringing the laptops, and staying in hotels with free wifi, so you should get plenty of posts and updates while we're on the road (with photos, natch). I'm looking forward to it, of course, but there are some things I'm not sure about.

So, my darling readers, time to tap your extensive knowledge! Here are the many, many things I know nothing about and would love to know about your experiences with. I will tell you what we plan to do as well.

1. Flying with a baby. I've read the horror stories, heard about folks being kicked off planes, and we're pretty worried about this one. Our flight out is at 8am, so we'll have to be at the airport at some ungodly hour (probably about 6 or 6:30). Our plan is to let Tori run like crazy in the airport lounge with one of us alternately chasing her, then once we get on the plane to dose her with benadryl (yeah, yeah, whatever, she takes it now and again without a problem and it's a FIVE HOUR FLIGHT). The laptops can show DVDs so that's good too, and she loves that movie Cars (I don't know why, either. It's a pretty talk-y movie for a kid her age. Luckily, I like it too) so we'll bring that and some other stuff for her to watch. We figure we can try to keep her entertained or unconscious through much of the flight. But it's going to be tough. We might have to find a playground in Phoenix to take her to before driving to Tucson, however.

2. Flying with the laptops. Seriously, what do you do? You can't put them through the x-ray machine, right? I don't want to look like an idiot here. Help.

3. Flying with digital cameras. Again, help? Do they go through the machine? Sarah put hers through without a problem.

4. The diaper bag. Is it a carry on bag? Does it eliminate one of your carry on options?

5. Toys. Should we not pack any toys and just plan to hit a dollar store once we're there and buy her some and plan to toss them before we come home? I hate the idea of flying across the country with toys. We don't mind bringing a couple of must-haves (Elmo that she sleeps with, her favorite books) but most of her toys are fun for about two minutes and then she moves on to the next thing. I mean, she'd probably have as much fun with the cups and ice bucket at the hotel as she does with her toys. What do you do?

6. Weather and clothes. For those of you that live in those areas, what are you wearing? What the fuck should we pack? I know Albuquerque has been really cold, but Tucson has been pretty nice compared to Philly.

7. Things that we shouldn't miss that we can do with a very inquisitive and climb-prone 20-month-old. If you know the areas, any suggestions would be appreciated.

8. Things that we shouldn't miss that we will love cause we're grown ups. Things that we can take Tori to and bore her with.

I think that's all, but if you think of anything else, please let me know. Tori did really well on our trip this summer driving to Michigan, but she's a different kid now; we had to hide the piano bench recently because she climbed to the TOP of the piano. No, I mean ON TOP. I think she might be evolutionarily closer to a monkey than either Charlie or I am (ok, that's not true; I was just as much of a climber). She's much harder to entertain and much busier than she used to be, so I know that wrangling her is going to be a lot of work on this trip. So any tips you can suggest will be very, very helpful. Luckily, with a little help from my fabulous sister, we managed to swing a deal on hotel rooms so we're actually in suites that allow us to have her in a different room so we'll all get to sleep at least. Sigh.

So. Advise away!

Maybe We Should Just Discuss Politics

What a fascinating discussion in the comments in the last post. I'm sorry some folks got their feelings hurt, and I'm leaving that discussion over there. OK then. Moving on.

So, someone said here in a comment a while back that they felt sorry for Tori because they thought I would be ill-equipped to deal with her Princess phase thanks to my rampant and raging feminism. Well, as you can see from the new photo in the side bar over on the left, Tori is already developing Princess qualities and I have to say I am secretly enjoying it immensely. See? Here's proof:

OK, perhaps not QUITE so secretly.

She's clearly enjoying dressing up already; she was given a string of Mardi-Gras beads by a drunken Mummer at the Parade on New Year's Day and she LOVED it until she lost it at morning care (she insisted on wearing it there every time she went), so I finally went and got her a new necklace and the only one they sold came with a tiara. She loves wearing it, and I have no issues with her doing so.

I'd love to live in a world where Sammy, our next door neighbor's son, could also enjoy wearing a tiara without recrimination, but considering the fact that you can't even get "gender neutral" toys with a kid's happy meal, I don't think we're going to get there any time soon. They love me at fast food places because when they ask whether or not I want the boy or girl toy I demand to know WHAT the toys are before telling them I actually need the one for under-three-year-olds (although sometimes we get the boy toy if it's cool). Heh.

Tori's toys are balanced, I'd like to believe. She has a bunch of neutral stuff, a train puzzle, a tiara, books, stuffed animals, a pull wagon with giant lego-type things that was clearly marketed to boys, and one of those cool popper toys that's pink (not because I didn't want to buy the standard primary color one, but the pink one popped much more satisfactorily).

But things I don't want to see in our house are looming on the horizon. Things like this. Or god, worse even--this new line of Barbie dolls (it's like they are competing--who can bring more skank?). I used to think my mom was crazy for not letting me play with Barbie dolls, but man--now I totally fucking get it. If I even go down those aisles at the store with Tori--or god forbid, a fucking rack of the dolls is somewhere you don't expect it (like I came across one at a bookstore for some reason), Tori's face lights up in a most alarming way. I don't want her to feel the same sort of lack and longing that I did--and lord knows, I got a pretty fucking distorted body image without a single Barbie doll in my house--but STILL. Ye GODS.

So what do you do? I don't mind dress up, and letting her be a girl--but I really don't want her to fall prey to all the shit that's out there, you know? Not to mention there are all kinds of other issues such as there aren't enough dolls that look like real people, there aren't dolls of color, etc, etc, etc. There is so much about this gender and toys crap. How do you balance this in your house?

Another New Year Begins...

I've been finding myself feeling more rueful than usual as this year draws to a close. This is the last year I'll be in my thirties--I'll turn 40 this spring--and while that is generally rather meaningless, I can feel the shadows of a midlife crisis circling.

I have such a good life; I have a man that loves me unconditionally and passionately. A daughter that is perfect, charming, adorable, and enchanting (do you know what she's just started doing? Every time I tell her I love her she comes and gives me a hug. Could she be any cuter?). I have the best dog ever™. A cat the mostly uses the litter pan, and doesn't ever bite Tori, not matter how hard Tori pulls on her tail. A best friend many people would kill for. A mother that loves Tori and lives close by. A new car. A nice house that gets nicer every minute that our buddy Fred keeps hanging around fixing things.

But I find myself feeling a bit sad about stupid things; I no longer have the power to draw men's glances across a bar (OK, maybe it was just the big "slut" sign on my forehead, but I did have that power at one point). I have reached that age where most people see a "ma'am" instead of a "miss." No one would ever card me for beer or cigarettes (and I no longer indulge in beer and cigarettes, which I also find myself missing a bit today). It's unlikely that I'll find myself in the flush of new love again; and while I have something so much more amazing now--a deep and abiding true love that cannot be matched--I sometimes miss the days of burning so hot that I out shined the sun.

I'm firmly entrenched in the middle of my life now. I'm no longer at the beginning. I can see, now, why people have affairs (calm down, Charlie, I am so NOT going to have an affair), or buy fast cars, or take up rock climbing (I might, however, take up rock climbing). It feels a little bit, now, like I've done it all--like there's nothing new to explore. I've already lived six or seven different lives, some of them in different parts of the country. I am now simply placing one foot in front of the other, waiting for the next thing to happen.

There is great joy in this, of course. I now actually have the ability to live in the moment, to find the hope and magic in the mundane. I no longer feel the compulsion to change the world--and, honestly, that is so freeing. Changing the world is a big job, and I don't really want to have to do it. I have the capacity to sit still now, to listen to a piece of classical music and really hear it without the impatience of youth demanding that it fucking end all ready. I can enjoy just laying in bed with my husband, our arms loosely entwined, feeling content to just be. I can sit on the floor with Tori and watch her push the triangle through the triangle shaped hole over and over again and applaud it each time with equal enthusiasm because I have the patience that nearly 40 years of being on this planet has given me.

But sometimes it's hard to just smolder when you used to burn. It's one of the joys of growing old, but one of the big lessons in humility that comes with aging as well. I know I don't want to be like those people you see trying so hard to stay on fire with the surgeries and the crazy hair and make-up and inappropriate clothes. I am trying to let my skin settle comfortably around me, and just trust that it belongs where it falls, even if part of me thinks perhaps it should still be up a tad (ok, a lot) higher.

Because the truth is, as I head into 2008--a number that is as completely unspectacular as my life is--I have everything I want. I have a perfect life. I have become an ember instead of a flame, and I am learning to be content with that. I plan to head into the new year with only this one resolution--to continue to trust that my skin does, in fact, fit me. I wish the same for you as well.

Happy New Year, everybody. May you find happiness in the skin you're in.

Juggling

Things I learned today:

1. The new minivan handles snow squalls quite beautifully.

2. I can still wear make up and dress like an adult.

3. Driving at high speeds while singing Christmas carols in a snow squall is highly restorative.

Here's proof of number two: