Shouldn't there be an age limit on attitude problems? I mean, isn't 2 a little young to be refusing to call your mother "Mommy," and saying "Ain-ya" (Melania) instead? Or, when you are saying Mommy, to chant it over and over in the exact same tones that Dora the Explorer says "Swiper, No Swiping! - "Mommy, No Mommy! Mommy, No Mommy!"
*sigh*
And then the other day, when Joffre suddenly decided that the cup he was drinking out of was his brother's, and I said it was his, that Alec's was the red and yellow one, he replied, "I don't love you anymore." Surely such a declaration should be in response to a graver offense?
Thursday, June 14, 2007
I've Become "That" Parent
Okay, there are thousands of "that" parents. I've become the one that has kids with Food Issues (nut allergy in the case of Joffre, horrible reactions to whole wheat {upon which I won't elaborate} in the case of Alec). I had hoped to avoid it, but the threat of anaphylactic shock, or at least unspeakable diapers, changed all that.
I've also become the parent who sees other parents doing unfathomable things in public, and tut-tuts - occasionally audibly. Like the mother with a boy of about four or five at Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End (swashbuckling horrors abound). And that's not the worst of it: it's bad enough to take little tiny children to see Pirates of the Caribbean, but to take them to Constantine? As I wrote in another blog after seeing Constantine in 2005:
"Constantine is a violent, scary movie. There are nasty demon possessions, violent exorcisms, people's faces melting off, graphic wrist-slashing images, grotesque shape shifting, death-by-having-flies-pour-out-of-one's-mouth-nose-and-eyes . . . oh, and a man forcibly drowns a woman. On top of all the usual flamethrowers, guns, and bloody, vicious fist fights. But, hey, that didn't stop the people two rows up from us from bringing their little kids to the movie. The children looked to be about 7 and 5 years old. The younger one spent the movie in her mom's lap, hiding her face, and at some point she dozed off. I saw the father reassuring the older one a few times. There was no crying, or anything, but for God's sake!! Who takes their little children to a movie like that??? Sure, these kids have probably been inoculated by having watched violent television since birth, but still. It took effort on my part not to walk up and comment. Not that it would have done any good."
And I finally succumbed, after the 547,621st "why?", to saying "because I said so!!"
I've also become the parent who sees other parents doing unfathomable things in public, and tut-tuts - occasionally audibly. Like the mother with a boy of about four or five at Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End (swashbuckling horrors abound). And that's not the worst of it: it's bad enough to take little tiny children to see Pirates of the Caribbean, but to take them to Constantine? As I wrote in another blog after seeing Constantine in 2005:
"Constantine is a violent, scary movie. There are nasty demon possessions, violent exorcisms, people's faces melting off, graphic wrist-slashing images, grotesque shape shifting, death-by-having-flies-pour-out-of-one's-mouth-nose-and-eyes . . . oh, and a man forcibly drowns a woman. On top of all the usual flamethrowers, guns, and bloody, vicious fist fights. But, hey, that didn't stop the people two rows up from us from bringing their little kids to the movie. The children looked to be about 7 and 5 years old. The younger one spent the movie in her mom's lap, hiding her face, and at some point she dozed off. I saw the father reassuring the older one a few times. There was no crying, or anything, but for God's sake!! Who takes their little children to a movie like that??? Sure, these kids have probably been inoculated by having watched violent television since birth, but still. It took effort on my part not to walk up and comment. Not that it would have done any good."
And I finally succumbed, after the 547,621st "why?", to saying "because I said so!!"
Portrait of a Procrastinator
Friend who has completed law school: So, how do you feel about the 100% exams in the spring?
What I said: Well, I think all you can do is learn for the sake of learning, of really knowing your stuff, and treat the exam as the chance to prove what you know. I mean, all exams (and assignments) add up to 100% anyway, right? I suppose it becomes harder to gauge how you're doing, but again, if you're really applying yourself, I think you'll have a good sense of how you're doing, just from how well you understand and navigate the material.
What I thought: Cool! No December exams!!
EDIT: It turns out that there are December exams - but they don't count for anything. Like a dry run.
What I said: Well, I think all you can do is learn for the sake of learning, of really knowing your stuff, and treat the exam as the chance to prove what you know. I mean, all exams (and assignments) add up to 100% anyway, right? I suppose it becomes harder to gauge how you're doing, but again, if you're really applying yourself, I think you'll have a good sense of how you're doing, just from how well you understand and navigate the material.
What I thought: Cool! No December exams!!
EDIT: It turns out that there are December exams - but they don't count for anything. Like a dry run.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Just Try Not to Think Too Hard About It
Children's programming is bizarre when filtered through the lens of adulthood. There's something about a pleasant, robust male voice saying, "I thought you had the chinchillas - the mayor's not going to be too happy about this" that makes my brain hurt.
And don't get me started on Boobah. Brrr.
And don't get me started on Boobah. Brrr.
Luckily/Unluckily
There's an old storytelling exercise where the players contribute each sentence in turn, always alternating "luckily" and "unluckily" as opening words. Like this:
Unluckily, the man fell out of the apple tree.
Luckily, he landed on a pillow.
Unluckily, the pillow was sitting on top of a picket fence.
And so on. Or, in the case of my day:
Luckily, Alec has decided to embrace toilet training.
Unluckily, he doesn't like to tell me when he needs to go.
Luckily, he has learned to take off his own diapers.
Unluckily, this means he's bare-bottomed a lot of the time.
Luckily, he can climb a stool to get to the toilet by himself.
Unluckily, he doesn't always make it in time.
Luckily, I have really helpful kids who love to get involved in the cleaning up.
Unluckily, enthusiastic preschooler help in cleaning up messy poop off a carpet tends only to make the process far messier and more complicated.
And so on . . .
Unluckily, the man fell out of the apple tree.
Luckily, he landed on a pillow.
Unluckily, the pillow was sitting on top of a picket fence.
And so on. Or, in the case of my day:
Luckily, Alec has decided to embrace toilet training.
Unluckily, he doesn't like to tell me when he needs to go.
Luckily, he has learned to take off his own diapers.
Unluckily, this means he's bare-bottomed a lot of the time.
Luckily, he can climb a stool to get to the toilet by himself.
Unluckily, he doesn't always make it in time.
Luckily, I have really helpful kids who love to get involved in the cleaning up.
Unluckily, enthusiastic preschooler help in cleaning up messy poop off a carpet tends only to make the process far messier and more complicated.
And so on . . .
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
No Fool Like an Old Fool
I should really know better than to leave Alec unattended for any length of time, but Joffre was napping, and Alec was playing peacefully with toys, so I sat down to catch up on some emails. I had left the breakfast dishes on the table, as well as a box of foodstuffs from Peru. All of a sudden, I heard a 'clink' in the dining room, so I went downstairs to find Alec sitting at the table, happy as a clam, having a little snack. My two initial thoughts?
1: I'm so glad I can wash my dining room chairs with soap and water,
2: How can anyone have eaten a bowl of rice krispies with that much paprika on them?
1: I'm so glad I can wash my dining room chairs with soap and water,
2: How can anyone have eaten a bowl of rice krispies with that much paprika on them?
The Senseless Tyranny of Gendered Colours
Why are purple and pink girl colours? Why? Why can't boys like those colours??
According to Google Answers, up until the 1950s pink was not specifically for girls and blue for boys. In fact, the history I found quotes The Sunday Sentinal in 1914 and the Ladies' Home Journal in 1918 as recommending pink for boys and blue for girls. A further comment on that site points out that the researcher could not in fact find any such recommendation in the named issue of the LHJ.
Blue is of course the colour most strongly associated with the virgin Mary, and in the Middle Ages, blue was associated with true love and faithfulness. Apparently blue was commonly used for boys' school uniforms as early as the 17th century - not because there was any particular association between boys and blue, but because blue dyes were cheap. Blue sashes on Empire dresses were de rigueur at the beginning of the 19th century. Theodore Roosevelt's daughter Alice, born in 1884, famously wore a light grey-blue colour that became hugely popular, and was known as "Alice Blue."
Stories abound that pink was considered a masculine colour until the beginning of the 20th century. Whether or not this is true, both blue and pink were worn by boys historically. Less famous than Gainsborough's "Blue Boy" painting is its companion "Pink Boy."
Some point out that the Nazis use of the pink triangle to identify homosexuals indicates a link between pink and femininity by the 1930s.
We can surmise, then, that the stark delineation between blue for boys and pink for girls did emerge sometime in the early 20th century, for reasons historians seem unable to produce, and today is considered to be carved in stone. Oh, sure, girls can wear blue, if the clothing is girly enough, or the girl has long enough/styled enough hair, and men who follow the right sort of high fashion magazines can wear pink silk ties and shirts, but heaven forbid that your four-year-old son have his heart set on Dora the Explorer running shoes:
Or hot pink soup bowls. We bought the latter, but just couldn't bring ourselves to go for the former. We might as well draw a target on his back, at that point.
According to Google Answers, up until the 1950s pink was not specifically for girls and blue for boys. In fact, the history I found quotes The Sunday Sentinal in 1914 and the Ladies' Home Journal in 1918 as recommending pink for boys and blue for girls. A further comment on that site points out that the researcher could not in fact find any such recommendation in the named issue of the LHJ.
Blue is of course the colour most strongly associated with the virgin Mary, and in the Middle Ages, blue was associated with true love and faithfulness. Apparently blue was commonly used for boys' school uniforms as early as the 17th century - not because there was any particular association between boys and blue, but because blue dyes were cheap. Blue sashes on Empire dresses were de rigueur at the beginning of the 19th century. Theodore Roosevelt's daughter Alice, born in 1884, famously wore a light grey-blue colour that became hugely popular, and was known as "Alice Blue."
Stories abound that pink was considered a masculine colour until the beginning of the 20th century. Whether or not this is true, both blue and pink were worn by boys historically. Less famous than Gainsborough's "Blue Boy" painting is its companion "Pink Boy."
Some point out that the Nazis use of the pink triangle to identify homosexuals indicates a link between pink and femininity by the 1930s.
We can surmise, then, that the stark delineation between blue for boys and pink for girls did emerge sometime in the early 20th century, for reasons historians seem unable to produce, and today is considered to be carved in stone. Oh, sure, girls can wear blue, if the clothing is girly enough, or the girl has long enough/styled enough hair, and men who follow the right sort of high fashion magazines can wear pink silk ties and shirts, but heaven forbid that your four-year-old son have his heart set on Dora the Explorer running shoes:
Or hot pink soup bowls. We bought the latter, but just couldn't bring ourselves to go for the former. We might as well draw a target on his back, at that point.
History is Made
Let it be known that on Saturday, June 2nd, 2007, at the age of 2 years, 2 weeks, and 2 days, Alec James Gunson slept through the night. Then he did it again on June 4th.
There is hope.
There is hope.
Damage Control
Unfortunately, I am one of those parents who is guilty of occasionally swearing in front of her children. I don't mean to, of course, but sometimes it just slips out. Unsurprisingly, Joffre has recently said "dammit!" a couple of times. We had a big discussion about how dammit was a bad word, how Mommy shouldn't say it either, etc.
The next day, Joffre and Alec were playing roughly with something, and I told them to play gently so it wouldn't get damaged. Right away Joffre said, "Mom! You said dammit!!" So, I went into a huge explanation about what damage means, how it's not the same word as dammit, and how dammit is a bad word but damage isn't.
Two days later, Joffre got frustrated and yelled "dammit!" I said, "Joffre! We don't say that word! Remember, it's a bad word!"
"No, Mom," he replied. "I just said damage."
The next day, Joffre and Alec were playing roughly with something, and I told them to play gently so it wouldn't get damaged. Right away Joffre said, "Mom! You said dammit!!" So, I went into a huge explanation about what damage means, how it's not the same word as dammit, and how dammit is a bad word but damage isn't.
Two days later, Joffre got frustrated and yelled "dammit!" I said, "Joffre! We don't say that word! Remember, it's a bad word!"
"No, Mom," he replied. "I just said damage."
Wonderful News!
I got a Law Foundation Scholarship for $6000. I am, of course, thrilled, especially considering that tuition is going to run me well over $9000 per year, not counting other university fees.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Dawn of the Camera Phone
I've always sworn there was no need to have a camera in your phone. I mean, really. What's the point of a phone that takes pictures of lousy quality? Why, to have a camera at hand at all times (since I'm never without my cell phone), to snap impromptu pics of my kids and - because the quality's lousy - have small .jpg files to upload to blogger, or email to family.
That's why.
And man, am I using it.
That's why.
And man, am I using it.
Taking Shameless Advantage . . .
. . . to show off how cute they were at bathtime on an otherwise extremely challenging day:
Where We Live Now
I like it here. It's designed around families. It's green, safe, welcoming, and full of interesting things for children to do, with a minimal amount of parental involvement. (not that I'm lazy, but, ya know).
There are lots of playgrounds in the complex:
And all the roads through the complex are pedestrian, so the kids are free to run around as they please:
There are lots of playgrounds in the complex:
And all the roads through the complex are pedestrian, so the kids are free to run around as they please:
Shoot Me Now
Yeah, we're sick again. With the mother of all cold/flu viruses, this one combining sinus and bronchial congestion with a sore throat, ear trouble, and just to round it out, tummy trouble as well. The only thing worse than parenting sick kids is trying to do it when you yourself are sick.
Blech.
Blech.
Goodbye, Sweet Baby's Breath
The other night, Alec single-handedly polished off every sliver of garlic remaining in the pan after dinner. The next morning I awoke to . . . garlic breath! Coming out of my two-year-old! Sometimes being a foodie has its price . . .
Friday, May 25, 2007
Why I'm Not Writing About Law School
Because I'm not in law school yet, of course! I feel like this blog is all about the kids, but trust me that will change - once I'm doing anything that isn't all about kids.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Hair Saga
Caveat: only read this if you actually want to hear all about my hair.
You know how sometimes we make ridiculous, insane hair decisions? Well, last September I got my hair permed because a friend of mine had done so, and I loved her hair. Except, of course, that my friend is Japanese, and so has totally different hair than I do. Despite my insistance upon a loose, ringlet-style curl, using large rollers (note: I know almost nothing about hair styling, and probably was asking for something impossible), my stylist insisted that she knew what she was doing and used little tiny rollers. So, I ended up with a tight kinky wave. Almost like crimped hair. And super, super frizzy. Oh, and the first 2.5 inches of hair, from the scalp down, didn't take the curl because it was new growth after my last colour. And the stuff that *did* take the curl turned a brassy colour after the perm.
Yeah. I went through many months of carefully attempting to fix my hair every day, with mixed results. I cut my hair once in that time - I wanted to cut off most of the curl, but I knew that if my hair was short, what was left with curl would turn me into a puff-ball. I did colour a couple of times, to tone down the brassiness. By the end of it all, the last few inches of my hair was ugly and dry. Then there was the fact that the perm relaxed unevenly, meaning I had portions of stick-straight hair, lots of frizzy-but-not-curly hair, and areas of beautiful wave. Blech.
So yesterday I went and got my hair cut. It's still got a bit of wave to it, and now it's a sort of long bob, or pageboy cut. Of course, I made the dreadful error of not asking the hairdresser the price of the cut ahead of time, and so shelled out $27 for a cut I had to fix up with fingernail scissors later, at home.
So, to sum up: never, ever, ever perm your hair. Also, don't assume a haircut will be cheap just because the hairdresser works in a dive and gives shoddy haircuts. And, finally, remember that time heals all haircuts.
You know how sometimes we make ridiculous, insane hair decisions? Well, last September I got my hair permed because a friend of mine had done so, and I loved her hair. Except, of course, that my friend is Japanese, and so has totally different hair than I do. Despite my insistance upon a loose, ringlet-style curl, using large rollers (note: I know almost nothing about hair styling, and probably was asking for something impossible), my stylist insisted that she knew what she was doing and used little tiny rollers. So, I ended up with a tight kinky wave. Almost like crimped hair. And super, super frizzy. Oh, and the first 2.5 inches of hair, from the scalp down, didn't take the curl because it was new growth after my last colour. And the stuff that *did* take the curl turned a brassy colour after the perm.
Yeah. I went through many months of carefully attempting to fix my hair every day, with mixed results. I cut my hair once in that time - I wanted to cut off most of the curl, but I knew that if my hair was short, what was left with curl would turn me into a puff-ball. I did colour a couple of times, to tone down the brassiness. By the end of it all, the last few inches of my hair was ugly and dry. Then there was the fact that the perm relaxed unevenly, meaning I had portions of stick-straight hair, lots of frizzy-but-not-curly hair, and areas of beautiful wave. Blech.
So yesterday I went and got my hair cut. It's still got a bit of wave to it, and now it's a sort of long bob, or pageboy cut. Of course, I made the dreadful error of not asking the hairdresser the price of the cut ahead of time, and so shelled out $27 for a cut I had to fix up with fingernail scissors later, at home.
So, to sum up: never, ever, ever perm your hair. Also, don't assume a haircut will be cheap just because the hairdresser works in a dive and gives shoddy haircuts. And, finally, remember that time heals all haircuts.
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