My Flimsy Soapbox

I feel the need to apologize for or retract yesterday's entry. Not the part about the Women's Day Off, but the part where I tried to wax political. I'm no Anna Quindlen. Where would we be without the husbands, fathers, grandfathers, brothers and SONS in our lives. After all, a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.

From now on I think I'll stick to twee tales about my kids.

Proceed With Caution

October 24 was Women's Day Off in Iceland. On that day, organizations encouraged women to leave work at 2:08 p.m., when 64.15% of the work day was complete, to signify that a woman's salary in Iceland is 64.15% of her male counterpart. Other reasons for the strike:

women get 72% of men's salary for working the same number of hours

having children has a negative effect on women's salary, but a positive effect on men's

many women live in fear and insecurity in their own homes

one out of three women becomes victim of gender related violence in her lifetime

women do not get credit due for their education

women in business have less access to finance

responsibility for upbringing of children and domestic work is still largely on women's shoulders

jobs involving caretaking are among the lowest paying jobs in the job market

women's voice is still not loud enough in the media

women's bodies are treated as merchandise

a woman has never been prime minister, bank manager or bishop

women have never occupied half the seats in parliament

women are not treated as equal to men

Doesn't sound too different than in the U.S. does it? Can you imagine if every women you know decided to not show up for work today? I know that I am cynical, jaded and apparently somewhat of a chauvinist because I picture a day without women as being chaotic, frenzied, disorganized and in the end, unfinished. But a day without men? I see something completely different. Peace, order, resourcefulness, camaraderie. You?

The Small Stuff

I'm winging it today. No drivetime story, no tantrums from the kids. Despite the content of most of my entries I don't follow my kids around with a notepad and pencil: "Come on baby, Mama's gotta blog!!!"

We had a good, but basically uneventful weekend. We went to the Texas State Fair, a friend's birthday party, grocery store, Home Depot (did you know large recycle bins can run $80?), the typical weekend stops. But when the weather turned cool and rainy on Sunday we found ourselves inside. And I, for one, had nothing to do. The house was straight (as straight as it's ever going to be with two little ones, two cats, and raccoons that bring in fleas). The washer and dryer were full. The kids were co-playing and Bryon was watching football. (If he was smart he would Tivo a sporting event, play it back later and tell me it was live. "Can't do 'X' right now, I gotta see if the Chiefs score." I would never know.)

It was all I could do to just sit there. I needed to, wanted to, get up and 'futz about.' Futzing is my second favorite thing, after sleeping. And then I decided to get down on the floor with the kids and just watch. You know the saying 'don't sweat the small stuff?' Well, don't overlook it, either. When you pay close attention you notice that Jake knows when a book is upside down and will carefully turn it right side up and turn the pages slowly, as if he is reading it. You'll notice that when Sam colors he sticks his tongue out the right side of his mouth. Or that he hums while he plays or that Jake clucks when he hears music. And you'll notice that at the end of the day the bath towels may not be folded, but your kids say they love you more than candy.

I'm Walking, Yes Indeed

It's the most widely used 'working mother' cliche - yesterday while I was at work, Jake took his first steps. When I picked him up, Miss Jackie casually said "He took four steps today." Like it was any other day, like she was telling me it had rained, like she might've forgot to mention that, oh yes, your son reached a milestone today while you were at work Googling college classmates.

My friend Joslyn had a good point. She said they shouldn't have told me. They should've waited until I said he had walked.

In college I had a French poetry professor I really admired (she was French, not the poetry). She used a phrase - shocks of time - to describe those moments, nano-moments really, that you remember. They may be significant (I have one from my wedding, just a few seconds during our vows, when I remember looking Bryon right in the eye and thinking "Don't cry, remember this moment.") or they may be insignificant (standing under a tree somewhere with Bryon while my mom took our picture) but for one reason or another they stick with you.

We've known that Jake was getting close to walking. In August he started standing without help and just recently he was able to push himself up from a 'tripod.' So the past few mornings when he's been up at 5 a.m. and we have a couple of quiet hours together before everyone else gets up, I've been hoping it would happen. That there on the living room floor, me in my pink jammies that Sam loves, Jake in his faded hand-me-downs, he'd take his first step. Into my widespread arms of course. That would be my newest 'shock of time.' That moment, frozen, perfect for repeating to Jake the teenager, Jake the dad.

But instead, my 'shock of time' will be standing at daycare with Jake on my left hip grabbing at the pumpkin mobiles overhead while Miss Jackie looks up at me half-heartedly from her rocking chair and says, "He took four steps today."

The Pullover Incident

Those of you who read this blog or know Sam know that he develops random, fickle attachments to things. The first one I remember was Farmer Jed, the Fisher Price Little People farmer. At one point I even got on eBay to determine if it would be possible for me to stock up on Farmer Jed should he go missing. For awhile it was a little plastic zippered bag in which he carried two pairs of Incredibles underpants (a future Boy Scout perhaps?).

There have been various Batman action figures (Grey Batman, Red Batman, Blue Batman, Black Batman and you'd better know the difference). Recently he's fond of a blue Power Ranger that rides a blue and white motorcycle. As of this weekend, it is a zipper-front pullover from Osh Kosh that he got for Christmas last year. Until this weekend it had been in storage, but when the weather turned cool (82 degrees) I got it out.

Yesterday we left it at school.

Now I'm not the most passionate person. Other than my kids, our photo albums and a couple of keepsakes there aren't many things I have that would bring me to my knees if I misplaced. So that is why I tried to be patient with Sam when he realized we were heading home without this magic pullover.

There was high-pitched screaming, tear-stained cheeks, flailing (as much as a car seat will allow) and the choked sobs of "It's Mama's fault! It's gone forever! Get it for me and I'll be happy!" (All the while however, he managed to chew a huge piece of Bazooka.)

I feared he would be able to get out of his seat and then he would be loose in the car like a mad hornet. And then I worried that at any minute the aforementioned blue Power Ranger and motorcycle would hit me in the back of the head, retribution for my forgetfulness.

Needless to say it was a long drive home. The saving grace was that Sam's tantrum was quite entertaining to Jake. He just stared, mouth agape, the entire drive home.

A few minutes after we got home and Sam tattled to Bryon, he cooled off. "I'm sorry I was mad at you," he finally told me.

The first thing we did at school this morning was seek out the pullover and thankfully it was there, abandoned in the 'cutting' station. And for all the outpouring of emotion the night before the reunion was disappointing. I thought he might clutch the pullover tenderly, "Oh pullover! How I missed you! We will never part again." But no, he put it in his cubby and went about his day.

What About My Needs?

If you have some time on your hands, try this Google trick. Search for "your name needs." (In my case "Ann needs" ...) Then spend the next few minutes wading through the interesting, and in my case eerily accurate, results:

According to Google:

1. Ann needs your help
2. Ann needs appearance enhancement
3. Ann needs to get ahold of herself
4. Ann needs to be indoors only
5. Ann needs one of those dressing room standup mirrors
6. Ann needs to find her inner child and beat the shit out of her
7. Ann needs to start behaving like a proper young lady, learning to knit, cook, and manage a household
8. Ann needs to decide what is right for her
9. Ann needs to wash her left hand
10. Ann needs to work on her self esteem
11. Ann needs a device to help with communications
12. Ann needs a challenge
13. Ann needs to get happy
14. Ann needs to check her chemical levels
15. Ann needs some fast cash
16. Ann needs to improve her mental game
17. Ann needs someone to love her, worry about her and take care of her
18. Ann needs to start eating some rubber chicken
19. Ann needs to chill out
20. Ann needs some strategically placed syrup and a come-hither look
21. Ann needs a father figure
22. Ann needs to be taken to a mental hospital
23. Ann needs to lighten up sometimes
24. Ann needs to try
25. Ann needs a lot of examples to learn
26. Ann needs to have a TV show
27. Ann needs to eat at Fat Mo's more often (perhaps I can get the aforementioned rubber chicken there)
28. Ann needs to return to her royal life
29. Ann needs to be told something she can understand
30. Ann needs a nickname
31. Ann needs a lemon chicken vacation
32. Ann needs to work on blowing bubbles
33. Ann needs to make a comeback
34. Ann needs to write a book promoting the sanctity of marriage
35. Ann needs to speak up a little bit
36. Ann needs one more chance to prove she's worth it
37. Ann needs to get her facts together before she opens her mouth
38. Ann needs to grow and have fun
39. Ann needs to shop
40. Ann needs to hold her face more pretty
41. Ann needs a slap
42. Ann needs something dressier
43. Ann needs to get her head out of her butt
44. Ann needs to work to keep her family above water
45. Ann needs someone to teach her some manners
46. Ann needs focus
47. Ann needs to comb her hair before she goes on TV
48. Ann needs the support that comes from having a good relationship with her family, especially now that she’s confused and feeling rejected
49. Ann needs people around her sometimes
50. Ann needs a break sometimes
51. Ann needs more housework to inspire her
52. Ann needs a powerful computational ability
53. Ann needs more color and accessories
54. Ann needs a hug
55. Ann needs to stop being a bitch
56. Ann needs no introduction
57. Ann needs to figure it out for herself
58. Ann needs a serious life
59. Ann needs a diaper change

(Thanks Priscilla:)

What're You Looking At?

Several Fridays ago, the whole family went to a new bar and grill in town. At one point a David Bowie song came on and Sam got up next to his chair and started dancing - the great, jerky, slightly awkward dance of the uninhibited 4-year-old.

I envy that - the option for a kid to be 'suddenly silly.' When a grown-up does it you are labeled eccentric or quirky. I dread the day he is too intimidated or embarrassed to dance.

Just last week we were going through his homework and there was a drawing of a chicken (I think). He said Griffin, his friend, had told him it was ugly. I tried to convince him that no, it was not ugly, I thought it was clever how he'd colored it black and yellow and orange. And again I thought how quickly the time comes that someone else's opinion matters.

When Sam was about 2 my sister sent him Mickey Mouse ears from her family's trip to DisneyWorld. Sam loved those ears. If he didn't wear them he wanted someone NEAR him to wear them. So, for quite awhile I wore Mickey Mouse ears as we drove to and from school. And I'll admit, I enjoyed it. It made me laugh. And I thought it was funny to pull up next to someone at a stoplight and just wait for them to turn and look. (Many stick in the muds wouldn't even smile ...)

Sam is pretty much over the Mickey Mouse ears. Sure, if you get them out he wants someone to wear them, but he doesn't have a wobbler if you leave the house without them. And this is what makes me start to understand why parents sometimes do things that embarrass their kids. Because at one time the kids really did think wearing Mickey Mouse ears or sticking a Band-aid on your forehead or crunching Oreos in your teeth and cluelessly asking "What? What? Do I have something in my teeth?" was funny. And you secretly hope they still think it is funny, even though they are 14 (or maybe 8 or 10) and they are visibly embarrassed. Deep down you want them to think 'she may be goofy but she's funny.'

But then again, I shouldn't care what other people think. Right?

Daddy-O

When we dropped Bryon off at work today I rolled down Sam's window so he could say goodbye. He yelled "Goodbye Daddy-O" as Bryon walked into his office building. Then, as we were driving away, Sam said under his breath, "He's the coolest cat I know."

Thank You Sir, May I Have Another

Jake had his one-year checkup this week, and thankfully, he is healthy. (Our doctor always uses the word 'wonderful.' At his first checkup Sam looked 'wonderful.' At his three-year checkup he looked 'wonderful.' Jake, all nudie and chubby, looked 'wonderful.')

Ironically he might have a soy allergy. I guess Sam and I will be the vegetarians and Jake and Bryon will be the carnivores.

We gave Sam the option to either go to school with Daddy on Monday morning or go to the doctor with Jake and Mommy. He chose the doctor. He chatted to no one in particular and anyone who would listen while Jake was examined, weighed and measured. He told the nurse that Jake sometimes puts small things in his mouth, that he thinks everything round is a 'BAHL' and that Mommy and Daddy 'lost' him once, right before he fell down the stairs. (I guess Sam is officially at the age where he can 'rat' us out.)

I asked the doctor if Sam would be able to get a flu shot at his four-year checkup and she said he could get one right then. I felt a little bad since he thought he was just along for the ride, but I told him he was going to get a 'poke' and that it would sting a little, but when he got to school he could show his friends his Red Badge of Courage. He jumped right up on the table as the nurse explained how to take a deep breath and blow out when she said so. He barely had the deep breath in when she plunged the needle, Psycho-style, into his little thigh. He looked a little bewildered, then rolled up his other pant leg and said, "Can I have another one?"

Our Son Shecky

We had an atypical night last night. Bryon worked late so the boys and I ran errands and went to the playground until we could pick Bryon up from work (carpooling, remember?). By the time we got home it was later than usual. Jake was already asleep so Bryon, Sam and I sat down to eat dinner. I have to say, the 'atmosphere' was great. Everybody was tired and a little loopy. Some of us were already in pajamas. We were eating take-out off paper plates. We'd bought a brownie for Sam and somehow the conversation turned to brownies ... brownies flying out of Bryon's backside (like I said we were loopy, it was late). After a particular joke, Sam smacked his palm on the dining table, shook his head and said, "Ahh, gotta love the classics."

That's My Boy

I swear this conversation is true. Sam was not provoked or prompted in any way.

So we are driving home last night. Out of the blue Sam says, "Mama, I like you more than Woo." (This is a high compliment; Woo, also known as Woo-Tee or Blue Woo Number 2, is his blue blanket. I won't even say 'favorite' blanket because there has never been another.)

"Thank you. I'm honored."

"I like you more than ice cream."

"Thank you. I'm flattered. What don't you like?" I ask.

"Grass (?), towns (??), rainbows (???), George Bush."

Happy Birthday Jake

We celebrated Jake's first birthday this weekend. Very lowkey. BBQ and cupcakes with neighbors. He did look a little puzzled when we sang Happy Birthday, but he loved his new toy. I think the more annoying the toy is to adults, the more engaging it must be to kids.

I've been thinking a lot about the John Lennon song, Beautiful Boy.

"Before you go to sleep,
Say a little prayer.
Every day in every way,
It's getting better and better.
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy.
Out on the ocean sailing away,
I can hardly wait,
To see you to come of age,
But I guess we'll both just have to be patient.
'Cause it's a long way to go,
A hard row to hoe
Yes it's a long way to go
But in the meantime,
Before you cross the street,
Take my hand,
Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."

Happy Birthday Jake. You are loved.

Hi My Name Is ...

We are visiting a new church. The last time we went Sam didn't enjoy the children's room. He played by himself most of the time (unusual for him) and the other kids kept to themselves. So when we said we were going to church, he wasn't thrilled. (Truthfully I wasn't either. I don't like putting the kids in the church 'nursery' when they are in day care all week long.)

But yesterday Sam got cleaned up, put on his Jesus sandals (without the bubblegum bribe) and went along. As we were walking into church Bryon was reassuring him. "Now what do you do when you want to meet new friends?" he asked.

"Say 'Hi, My name is Sam. I'm 3 1/2 years old. What're you playing? Can I join in?'" Sam replied.

It was so sweet and sad and touching. You just want it to be so easy for them. And to think he's got a lifetime of those awkward moments ahead of him is heartbreaking to me.