Moondance

Growing Up

2009-07-07T19:14:00.003-04:00

It's puzzling and bemusing, this parenting business. I never really know what to expect from Owl. Much of his life he has no memory of. He likes to hear the stories of "me like a tiny baby." But he doesn't remember the events, just the stories. We visited friends last week that we hadn't seen in a few years, and it was a completely new experience for him.

As a new parent, I assaulted his eyes and ears with educational material, but most of it slid right off like water from a duck's back. Now, more seasoned, I hang back and watch, more passive, letting him take the world by the horns and see what he can figure out for himself.

And so it was that he proudly announced to me and Knightly the other day: "I know what gay means!" OK, you've got my attention, spill. "It's when instead of marrying a woman, a man marries a man, or a woman marries a woman." Well, he was correct, which is what we told him. Then he continued telling me the next thing he learned at camp that day. It's as if he kinda expected his revelation to be a big deal, but when it wasn't, it lost its value to him.

The funny part is, I had explained that to him years ago, and it must not have been important enough for him to remember. I guess who you marry is not a big deal to a five year old, but by seven you have an inkling that there's something special about it, but you are not sure why.

I'll bet he had been hearing the word gay (probably as an insult, if I recall playground days), and knew it had some particular meaning, but did not ask because it might get him in trouble. Then, when someone finally explained it to him, he wanted to show off to us that he had acquired this elusive, grown up knowledge.

How many other things that I thought I had taught him will he "learn" in second grade? Will he learn them from my point of view, of with someone else's bias? He is a sweet, idealistic, naive boy, and he doesn't understand prejudice. But I am not so naive and idealistic to believe that will last forever (I am pretty darned idealistic, but I am getting jaded). Will he continue to share values with me and his father? Is it wrong for me to hope he does?

Facebook

2009-06-13T19:07:00.002-04:00

I now have more Facebook Friends than friends in real life!

Actually, Facebook is great for introverts like me. I get to watch from the sidelines as conversations swirl around me, but there's no awkward silence if I have nothing worthwhile to say.

Also, I'm using this as an experiment to stop compartmentalizing my life. Usually, I keep professional contacts separate from friends, and family in a whole other sphere. Why? Do I think my extended family merits different treatment? Does Knightly's cousin in Texas really need to be shielded from what I say to my Aunt in Connecticut, or an old college friend, or a high school acquaintance? I'm not sure. I'm working on it.

It's kind of like my physical clutter. i desire to categorize everything, and then keep it all, regardless of what works. Why not use what I need, and let the rest go?

Hmm...

College, Three Times

2009-01-15T09:29:00.002-05:00

I was telling Owl that I would ask my friend Bob to look at his ipod to replace the battery. "Mr. D can fix it safely. He's very smart. He can fix anything."

"Oh?" says Owl, "Did he go to college three times?"

"Well, he went at least twice, once to regular college and once to get his doctorate."

"So, he doesn't have a Master?" Owl queries, non-judgmentally.

"No, I don't think so, but he might. You don't need to get a masters first to get a doctorate."

"But that's the order: First you go to college, then you go again to get your master, then last to get your doctor." They are learning sequences (first, then, next, last) in school, so he has been putting things in order lately. "I am going to college three times." To myself, i think: well you are if I have anything to do with it!

But the point of this isn't how smart my friends and my son are, but how I realized he has a whole life outside of the family that we don't talk about. He learned about advanced degrees, but not from me. I chose not to put that kind of pressure on him, and it turns our his first grade teacher (who apparently has her masters), told her class about how she is going to school at night to get her doctorate. And now he wants to do it.

My happiness at his academic goals is tempered by the unavoidable realization that other people will have influence over him, and stuff happens to him everyday that I don't know about. he is his own citizen of the world, and not as my son, but as himself. he will be making choices on his own, and he wont be checking with me on them. That is gut wrenching. I knew it would happen, but I am still not ready for it.

2008-11-15T09:00:00.000-05:00

The first grade teacher asked her class, "Does anyone know what genre this story is?"

Guess who raised his hand?

But some of the kids must have looked confused, so she asked him, "do you know what genre means?"

Yes, he did.

Says Nana, upon hearing the story from him, "I don't even know what that means..."

He's going to be unsufferable when he grow up.

100% Satisfaction

2008-11-14T10:26:00.002-05:00

He runs out of the bathroom. I ask him if he washed his hands. He sighs and goes back in.

He comes back out. But I didn't hear the water run. I confront him with this fact.

"I used Purel. It kills 99% of germs," he informs me.

"So, there's still some germs left," I point out to him.

"Oh," he says with a crooked smile and a glint in his eye, "I'll use it twice then!"

He knows that 99% + 99% is more than 100% of the germs, but from the look on his face and his tone of voice, I am convinced that he actually knows that 99% of the 1% remaining is still not 100% of the germs.

I explain that he now has two dirty hands full of dead germs, which sends him running back into the bathroom to use soap and water.

Hard Things to Talk About

2008-11-13T17:11:00.003-05:00

For some reason, my mother started talking about miscarriages in front of Owl the other day. I know she did the same with me, because I knew, even before I could read, about how babies were born, and that my mom had lost a baby before me. She had the book her doctor gave her about prenatal care (if I find it I'll post it) and I used to look at the pictures. One picture showed a 1950s woman at a shoe store trying on new shoes. I guess that was the chapter about how your feet swell.

I guess I handled it OK, but maybe not. I have found myself to be rather unfeeling about miscarriages when I hear about friends having them, because it was such a mundane part of my family's story when I was a kid: Mom had several miscarriages and a stillborn baby before she had me. It is linked into the next part of the story about how she prayed to the Virgin Mary to intercede with God and give her a healthy baby. She prayed so hard for me and now I disappointed her so much. Why did God finally give her child if it was going to be like me?

Wow, flashback to childhood. Back to present time. Now I need to explain to Owl what a miscarriage is, but in terms that will not warp his mind. I explained it, and he diagnosed it as being a problem with the tube (umbilical cord), because that is where the baby gets all of its oxygen and nutrition. Again, it all makes sense to him if he can look at is through the lens of science.

But, that's the easy part. How do I teach him the empathy part, the part about what losing a baby means to the family? He only understands death in a cartoon sense, or what happens to old people at the end of life. Other than my aunts and uncles whom he hardly knew, he's never experienced death as a part of his life. Of course, as a preschooler, he went to many funerals, since my mom was on the church committee for funerals and attended about one a month. He remembers these. But only from the point of view or organizing the mass, not knowing the families.

Oh, boy, reading this makes me worry about him. Will he be able to have empathy, or just look at things from a distance, clinically?

No Offense - None Taken

2008-11-09T14:38:00.002-05:00

"Mommy, know which Pokemon you are?...Munchlax, because all he does is sleep and then get up and eat 900 pounds of food and then go nap."

So, that's how he sees me. But really, I've been exercising lately, and eating healthy.

OK, he's got me on the sleep thing.

Apolitical Blues

2008-11-08T12:05:00.003-05:00

In my younger days, I used to proudly state that I was "apolitical." I now realized that I was just uninformed. I thought that I could make a determination on whom I would support based on their stance on "the issues." How naive. What I did not realize then is that politicians rarely have their own opinions, they just adopt the issues of whatever political party they are supported by. Or, more specifically, they figure out which of the two political parties most closely matches their agenda, join it, and spend the rest of their lives climbing the ladder.

They want to tell us what we want to hear. They keep promises, or not, and that's how we decide which individual in our party to support. Oh, I know I am overreacting and oversimplifying, but I am mad. I just learned something about myself that has me mystified.

With election day this week, I have read of the joy of many Obama supporters. I am an Obama supporter, so I am happy about that. But what I did not realize was that without exception, every blogger I read, friend with a website, and person I follow on Twitter is a democrat, or at least supported the democratic candidate in this election. I did not link up with these people because of their political leanings. (OK, except for Momocrats.) In fact, for most of them, I did not know their opinions on American politics, either because they are not American, or they never discussed it!

So, why am I feeling down?

How can it be that the network of people I've gotten to know on the web, through business, photography, NewOrleans-philia, mommyblogging, etc., all happen to be democrats? Am I that boring? Or unimaginative and undiverse? Really, like the fake President of the United States, Josiah Bartlett, I like to be "surrounded by smart people who disagree with" me. So where are they? Did I alienate more conservative thinkers? I did not realize I talked about anything online that would peg me as a bleeding heart liberal.

What's the deal?

Jokester

2008-10-10T15:12:00.002-04:00

Owl is developing his Dad's sense of humor. He loves to make plays on words, or make connections in his mind that lead to funny thought. These are not thighslappers, but they make me smile at his awakening awareness of the world and the humor in it. His latest:

"Mommy, wanna hear the joke I made up? You know how we have five percent of the same DNA as monkeys?"

"Really?"

"Yes, that's why we are allowed to eat bananas!"

Mansion On The Hill

2008-10-01T00:10:00.003-04:00

Imagine if you will, a seaside town at the bottom of a steep hill. In the town live the fishermen and their families, the shopkeepers, the teachers, and the tourist business. Some of the merchants get rich and build a country club with a huge clubhouse at the crest of the hill, commanding glorious views of the ocean, while avoiding the smells of the fishmarket. Although this is where they display their wealth, it is the fishing boats and the markets where they earn it.

The Country Club grows in size and opulence over the years, and the townspeople largely ignore their ostentatious neighbors, since they do not understand the business, and they are very busy working hard to make ends meet and put away money for a rainy day. Occasionally a socially appropriate opportunity to donate to non-profits comes up, and the club members spread the wealth and support institutions that help those less fortunate.

Now imagine that an architect designs a terrace to add onto the back of the country club, which will be cantilevered over the cliff. It is a bold move, and earns him awards. He is featured in architectural magazines for his vision. The expansion of the club is complete, and the club members revel in the exquisite design and luxury. One day, at a heavily attended party, the structure begins to give way. It appears thatthe design was flawed, or the contractors took shortcuts, and suddenly, every expert "knew this day would come." The club members in the building can't get out fast enough, and they are sure to perish as the mansion breaks apart and slides down the hill.

Some applaud this twist of fate: The rich are done in by the product of their own greed. Others note that if they shore up the house long enough to get the people off, they will be able to control the descent, and minimize the damage. The naysayers ask "why we would save those who caused the problem in the first place?" But if they don't take this step, experts predict the falling rubble will hit the town, killing many innocent people, and destroying the harbor and the fishing and tourism industries for a while.

If the government has the means to step in and save the town, should it do so?

On The Bus

2008-09-12T10:11:00.003-04:00

I swear this is an unedited version of a story my son told me at dinner tonight:

And Mommy? You know what? Jamie missed the bus this morning and the bus driver drove ALL THE WAY AROUND THE BLOCK, no, the whole DEVELOPMENT* and came back to pick him up! I was like what and my friend was like "where are we going?" and I said "I don't know, maybe California." And he was like "California?" And I was like "And me without my sunblock."

'Cause Mommy, it's hot and sunny in California, right?

______
* Up here in NJ, a development is the name we give to a group of houses built at the same time by the same builder. They usually have bucolic names like "Eden Acres" or "Wexford Estates." My husband calls them "subdivisions." In an Agatha Christie book I read as a teen, I got the impression that it had the connotation in England that goes with the term "housing project" in the US.

Trying to Reason with Hurricane Season

2008-09-11T15:01:00.004-04:00

You know how they say you shouldn't advertise that you are away on vacation, because you may attract burglars? You should stop mail and newspaper delivery, have someone mow your lawn, maybe even move your cars around or turn on and off some lights. I was thinking how I have nothing worth stealing in my house - our most expensive stuff is portable: The ipods, the camera, the laptop. We wouldn't take a vacation without it.

A thief would get some Mardi Gras beads instead of jewelry, old, non-digital TVs that you can't even use after next February, a broken DVD player, some worn out furniture, and a fridge full of caffeine free diet coke. No antiques or cool electronics, no diamonds, even our computers are so old they probably wouldn't support playing World of Warcraft.

I remember when our house was broken into in New Orleans - all they took was jewelry. Costume jewelry. Only two or three pieces cost me more than 35 dollars. However, the loss to me was much greater then the fenced value to the thief. My personalized school ring - who's going to buy that? My grandmother's (broken) enamelled pin from Ireland; the wooden parrot earrings a friend brought home for me from Bermuda (they were much more tasteful than they sound.) Two people were disappointed that day: Me when I saw my jewelry box gone, and him when he realized how small his take was going to be.

That got me thinking: Aren't most of the things that make us happy pretty worthless out of context? I reread the paragraphs above and realized you may thing I live in a broken down shack and we are sitting on barrels eating off a table made out of a big spool, with frayed curtains on the windows. That's not accurate. My curtains may be a little care worn, but my dining room table and chairs are nice, and relatively new, and my house is FULL of value to me. My material possessions make me happy (as much as the Dali Lama would warn me this is not so), and it would be a big loss to have them stolen.

As a kid, I would often think "What would I take with me if there were a fire?" The list changed very little over the years: My desk (as if I could lift it), my photographs, my pets. As an adult, and a parent, I now realize that if there were a fire, I would run through it to get to my son or my husband, but I would not think for a second of any Things. Even the cat is on her own. Face it, she's smart enough to flee a burning building - only reason she would stick around would be her curiosity about why I wasn't leaving!

A more realistic question to ask then, arising out of current events: If you had a few days warning that a massive storm was coming, that might rip your roof off and flood your house and all your belongings, what would you take with you when you evacuated?

This is not a theoretical question for many people in Florida and the gulf coast, who live with the hurricane season every year, and who have (some more than once) been faced with such a storm and lived through it. I am sure that changes your perspective about what's important. Not only for immediate survival (a cooler, milk, water, batteries) but to keep going after the disaster relief workers and the news reporters turn to another group in trouble.

So my question (I can't believe this turned into a meme) is: What would YOU save?

I am tagging a diverse group of bloggers I read, to see if it is different for all of us, or if common themes emerge. Feel free to answer even if I haven't asked you, just link back to this post in your post, and leave a comment with the link to yours so we know where to find it.

Here are the bloggers I am challenging to respond:

NOLA, who has actually made this decision in the last few weeks;

Jon at Ransom Note Typography, who just sent his daughter to college and now has a whole room to load up with evacuation stuff;

Brittney, who blogs at Britt-ish Designs, who must think of these things because she recently taught a group of women from her mom's church about how to start a family blog. Also, as a scrapbooker, I'll bet she has lots of extra stuff to save.

Maddy at Whitterer on Autism, who is so organized and full of energy that she probably DOES have backup archival copies of everything "just in case."

The wonderful writer bon (crib chronicles), who is expecting a baby...oops, just checked her blog...a happy mother with a healthy baby. Well, OK, I will understand if she doesn't respond.

Here's how it works (this is my first time, so I may do it wrong):

1. Tell us what five things you would take with you from your home if you had to evacuate for a storm or forest fire or other emergency, and there was a chance you couldn't come back.

2. Include a link to this post, and pass on this list of instructions.

3. Leave a comment below, so we can find your post.

4. Think of something you can do for someone who actually had to make that decision in real like, and share that idea with us, too.

5. Tag three or more people to pass it on.

Here's my updated answer to "What would you save?

1. My photos, in whatever form. Doing this exercise has reminded me to make archival copies, and keep them in one place, so if I ever did have to do this, I wouldn't have to choose them and find them when I had more important things to do. Also, I could leave them hanging on the walls and not have to crowd them in the car if I had a copy on CD I could take to Staples to print if I needed to.

2. Owl's blue blankie. Nana crocheted it for him before he was born, and gave it to me as a baby shower gift. She made one for all her grandsons (except the last one, because of her eyes). Owl likes it, but he's not like Linus with it. For me, it is a symbol of a grandmother's love for a yet to be born baby. This is especially poignant to me, because her life experience has taught her that preparing for a baby prior to birth makes it worse if something goes wrong. So it is also a symbol of her faith and hope. So this blanket is a huge metaphor for me.

3. My wedding dress. Odd how Knightly rented a tux, so we have no such talisman for his role in the whole day, but the dress reminds me of our whirlwind preparation and the tapestry of the whole day. If pressed, I could leave this off the list, but if I had enough room, I would take it.

4. Books. Scrapbooks, Journals, books that were gifts. Goodnight Moon, the Princess Bride, the Secret Garden, Roget's, Frankowski. It is not just the stories, but the physical look and feel of these particular books, and the part they played in our lives. I can always repurchase the book, but these are special.

5. Five. Do I really not have five? AM I more in synch with the Dali Lama than I thought? Anything else I can think of would just be convenience items like soap, pens, granola bars. Huh, I just learned something about myself. It turns out that not only is there nothing worth stealing, but all that is worth saving is what I hold in my arms and my heart when I fall asleep at night.

Stuffed Menagerie

2008-09-10T22:00:00.000-04:00

"Time for bed," I call. I await which stalling tactic my young offspring will employ this evening.

"Wait Mommy, I have to get a sleep friend." This phrase is from his daycare. I know it will come back to haunt me when he is a teenager. He comes into the room holding a bat. Not a baseball bat, but the cave dwelling blind mammal type. Stuffed, not real. He's holding it like an infant, in the perfect "football hold" they taught us in the breastfeeding glass. How does he know it - he was the football at those classes.

"Look Mommy," he whispers, "He's just waking up." He makes some cooing sounds and talks softly to his animal baby. "Do you know why he's just waking up at bedtime?"

"No honey, why?"

"He's NOCTURNAL"

Well, so he is.

New Blog

2008-09-10T00:56:00.005-04:00

I've been even less active than usual as I reflect on why I blog. It started out as a way to keep family and friends updated on our lives, and it has served that purpose for some, but not enough of my family and friends have a a web presence or interest, so they only look here when I call them and tell them to read something I've posted. That kind of defeats the purpose.

I also thought it would be a good journal for writing practice, but I find (a) I am too self conscious, and don't want to post rambling thoughts or mediocre writing (which is most of what comes out in such a journal) so I end up not posting a thing, because someone might read it and form an unfavorable opinion of me or my value as a writer; and (b) I had no idea about the community aspect of blogging, the two way nature of the communication, and it got a bit overwhelming. I end up READING a lot of blogs, and posting comments, but then, don't write anything here.

So, I've gone back to a college ruled spiral notebook for regular writing, and I've actually started a non-anonymous blog for photos and family news. I still want to post here, and it will probably be with no less frequency than I have been lately. Also, I am posting separately on life with the new additions to my household. Oh, I didn't tell you? Mom and Dad moved it. I can't remember which of Dante's circles this was, but I'm sure it was a hot one. Read all about it at My Sandwich Generation. Send your friends. But be warned - it's al pretty depressing.

Treading Water

2008-07-23T00:05:00.002-04:00

There was a hurricane off the Atlantic coast last week, making for some spectacular waves at the Jersey shore. That's Owl in my new header, frolicking in the surf yesterday. I used letters from a digital scrapbooking kit to make the title. They were made by Heather Benson at Dirty Feet Designs.

I feel like I am running in place. Until we get the estimates from the builders, I don't know how far into debt I will have to go to build the addition on the house for my parents. Knowing that will let me know if it would be irresponsible to quit my job to pursue private practice. I should be laying the ground work for it, but everytime I do that, I feel disloyal to my current employer. So I do nothing.

Plus, on top of that, Blogger's spell check is down, so I am working without a net. I can't spell...what is to become of me? I have to stop now, it's too stressful relying on my own eye to spot the typos.

Creative Outlet

2008-07-13T19:47:00.008-04:00

I have found the perfect hobby for me: Digital Scrapbooking. I used to make scrapbooks when I was a kid, back when you made them out of actual scraps you saved. You couldn't buy ribbons with words printed on them, or themed brads or WordArt. You had to use found objects. There were no fancy scissor sets or die cutters; you had to just play with regular scissors (but don't use your mom's specially sharpened sewing scissors - trust me on this one!). You had no glue dots or glue stick, you just used Elmer's and then peeled it off you fingers. Yeah, I had to do it all by myself. Uphill. In the snow. Both ways.

Then, last year, I gave in to the siren call of Michael's and A.C. More and started picking up little bits "to use for a project when I get around to it." Not a single page has been done. Whenever I find the time, I use up all that time clearing off my desk, finding the glue and "where did I put that cool sticker set?" and then something else would come up, and I would not be able to do it. (Ha! I pulled a Marcia Brady on my hobby: "Something suddenly came up...")

I heard of the idea of digital scrapbooking, and I laughed. It seemed so ironic. You use virtual elements that look like real life things (buttons, bows, rocks, shells, papers) but are not in fact real, in order to create a picture of something that looks like it was put together by hand. For me, the whole idea of scrapbooking is the tactile part of it. Getting your hands on the different textures, and placing items in a pleasing way. Organic stuff, the antithesis to the sleek perfection that is the hallmark of so much of the computer generated work we see nowadays. So, I knew I would hate digital scrapbooking.

...but, I found a few places that let you download free samples (that's the way you deal with addicts, right?), and I tried a few. I am now officially a hard core digital scrapper. Just like that. The very first day I considered doing it, I made my first page. This is my second project:

I did it this afternoon. I actually used paid (rather than free) elements in this one, because I loved the colors and textures so much. The papers and embellishments were designed by Syndee Nuckles for Scrap Girls. The font was free, also from Scrap Girls, and the stones are by Marie Stones. (hee hee, no pun intended - that's really her name).

I took the pictures one Sunday afternoon/evening that we went to the beach. The little girl in pink was someone he picked up at the ice cream stand (seriously, her grandmother chaperoned - I think she was relieved to have the child distracted.) The older girls were fooling around and flirting with him (or was it the other way around?). Afterwards, he told me one of them was from his school. They looked awfully old to be fifth graders...

This was fun. I think I will be doing a lot more of it.

Under Pressure

2008-07-12T08:00:00.002-04:00

We went to the church carnival yesterday. Yes, I know - I've denounced the Catholic church, so where do I get off going to a church function. One word: Funnelcakes.

Is that one word? Funnel Cakes? (That looks better.)

The church and synagogue carnivals in my suburban childhood are great memories. Eating refined sugar and going on stomach churning rides, winning goldfish doomed for a short life, staying up late and letting the carnival lights flow over you. That is the kind of thing I want to share with Owl.

My mom even got into it, taking a turn throwing the balls at the dunking booth target, and trying to get on the "Wipeout" ride. The operator wouldn't let her on with her oxygen, and wasn't fooled when she handed it off to my dad and tried again. Here's a picture I took from the ride. It's a fairly good representation of what they looked like to us as we went whipping by:

The hospital had an air conditioned bookmobile type RV thingee on site, so I decided to have my blood pressure checked. I am glad to say it is well under control. It appears even though its idiopathic (meaning they don't know what causes it), losing weight still helps. Now, if I could just stop with the fried foods and get my cholesterol under control...

Driveway Trauma, Part 2

2008-07-11T22:21:00.002-04:00

Remember a few weeks ago when Knightly's stuff was stolen out of his car in our driveway? And I decided to give him my old iPod so I could get a sparkly new smaller state of the art one? Yeah, I didn't. Instead, I bought him a new one, with twice the memory, and a nice case for it. Sucker!

Seriously, I am my mother - I only wanted to buy myself a new one if he insisted that I deserved it. I guess I'm not done with therapy yet.

Wednesday, I came home from work and the old car (that has been sitting on my driveway for moths because we can't sell it or donate it to charity until the bank send us the title) had the passenger side back window smashed. Nothing was taken, because Knightly had already cleaned it out in preparation for disposing of it, but still!

The cop was of the opinion that it was not vandalism or theft, but maybe an accident - something falling off the roof. I guess that makes me feel better. Not safer, just less jaded about the goodness of mankind.

Sandpaper

2008-07-10T22:26:00.003-04:00

Sandpaper won't kill you, but it is annoying.

No, not annoying enough. Nails on a chalkboard.

Now that I have your attention, I have to confess a pet peeve that, being Roman Catholic and raised by my mother makes me feel guilty and apologetic for mentioning.

I hate when people don't use the English language properly. I am not talking about people who speak English not as their first language. I envy them, to be bilingual. Hard work. I am not talking about creative types who coin neologisms or turns of phrase on purpose. More on Damon Runyon later.

I am talking about people who are lazy or ignorant. Now, some ignorance can be excused, but come on, with all the TV most people watch, you would think eventually, after hearing something correctly a few dozen times, one would wonder why their way of saying it is different.

My latest example: I left a voice message for a state employee the other day. Her message said "I will return your call at my earliest convenience." Now I get "as soon as I can" or "without delay." After all, she was in customer service, and should make me feel like my call is important and she won't dilly dally about calling me back. I also understand when you are asking someone to call you back, you can politely and obsequiously request them to do so at their "earliest convenience." This relates that they need to do it quickly (please) but only when it is convenient to them, the customer. You are stressing that their convenience and happiness is important to you.

However, when a person tells me she'll get back to me at her earliest convenience, what I hear is "yeah, when i feel like it." I don't think she meant to leave that impression. I think she heard the phrase, never thought about what it really means, and changed the pronouns to use in her message.

Or maybe she really does value her own convenience over mine. Gen Y and all.

A Piece of Pie

2008-07-11T20:40:00.001-04:00

Because I love words, and language, and reading, so much, it comes as no surprise that my ipod contains almost as much spoken word (audio books and interview podcasts) as music. The squee part is that Knightly is doing the same thing, and now emails me links to cool podcasts (like the New York Times Book Review, and Predictably Irrational, and Hound of the Baskervilles).He is so perfect!

Well, last month Knightly downloaded a short story by Damon Runyon. If you don't know who he is, go Google him. I'll wait.

Guys and Dolls was one of the plays we put on in high school, so the patois of Runyonese will ever be entangled in my mind with that group of friends, that time in my life, and the budding sardonic irony we all affected. But I had never read any of his short stories. One day in the car, Owl asks daddy to play the story of the eating contest. And then, the three of us spend the next 45 minutes in silence, listening to the story, part of NPR's selected shorts recorded live in NYC.

Runyon is a writer who must be read aloud. (Speaking of reading aloud, give that last sentence a try!) I would include a short excerpt, but it will not do the writing justice. But it was a funny story, wonderfully read, and it held the attention of parents and child alike. See, it doesn't have to be Pokemon ALL the time!

Channelling Sally Fields

2008-07-09T07:35:00.003-04:00

Recently, I attended a conference of a state industry association. The seminar was to bring us up to date on new developments in the law and tips for succeeding under this new way of doing things. They brought in an expert to address us.

You know what an expert is, right? It's a guy from out of town, with slides. Well, that's the 1980s version of the definition. I guess an updated description would be "someone from out of down with an animated PowerPoint presentation."

So, this woman speaks nationally on issues affecting our industry, and she's pretty good. Not a lawyer herself, she works for a law firm as a consultant. Well, I am chatting with an acquaintance during a break, thinking about introducing myself without looking like a big doofus, when she comes over to me and says "I wanted to make sure I met you - put a name to the face." Then she proceeds to tell me how I am "an icon" in my little area of healthcare law, and how the lawyers at her firm think so highly of me. She even went as far as to say when I weighed in on an issue, her staff would listen up "Well, Moondance said..."

I was floored. I thanked her for the compliment and told her she really made my day. After she left, the woman I was talking to, not someone I knew very well, said "That was really nice of her. Isn't it nice to hear that from an outsider? See, it isn't just us (the association) who love you and know you're great." I didn't know that. In a way, her compliment, though less gushing and more personal and understated, affected me even more.

"You like me...You really like me!"

So, does this mean the time is right for me to strike out on my own, hang a shingle, and put behind me the shackles (and protection) of working for someone else?

"I Don't Think That Word Means What You Think It Means"

2008-07-01T23:28:00.002-04:00

Owl was out with Nana and Pop Pop, and came home in the middle of a TiVo episode of NCIS. As you know, he has a certain affinity for that show. So he sat down with me and watched. It was an episode neither of us had seen before, but I did not bring him up to speed, because, well he's SIX, and how much of the cloak and dagger part can he really understand, right? You'd think I'd have learned by now (see my last post)!

In this scene, two characters were transacting the sale of a pirated weapons system, and the parties sealed the deal with high end cognac, poured with great ceremony. I was wondering, silently, would the good guy, undercover as the seller, drink? Could it be poison? Were they onto him? Then Oliver blurted out "Remember when Inigo Montoya was defeated by the man in black and he defeated the little guy because there was poison in both glasses?"

Of course, why would a child imaging he was watching two friends or businessmen share a drink? His mind immediately flew to nefarious purposes: There must be poison involved!

So remember, never doubt that they know what you are thinking. You do so at your own peril. Beware!

Oh, that and: "Never get involved in a land war in Asia."

Stuff I Am Not Ready For

2008-06-25T23:19:00.003-04:00

The following conversations actually happened, and if it's in quotes, I am not paraphrasing. My six year old is developing language and his mind WAY TOO FAST for me to keep up with.

From what I understand from other parents, even when you send your kids off to college, you still look at them and see little children and can't accept that they have grown. But this is ridiculous. I've only had him a few years, and I thought he'd be cute and baby-ish for way longer.
He is growing up too fast. This is just out of control. To wit:

O: "Watch out Mommy, I will send my minions after you."

M: "Did you just say 'minions'? How do you even know what that means?"

O: "A TV show."

M: "OK, what exactly is a minion?"

O: "It's a person who does what you say and follows you when you have to fight."

OK, I have to give him that one. "How do you know that? Did they tell you in the TV show?"

O: "No, I figured it out for myself."

********************

O: "Mommy, you know that plane in the Indiana Jones story?" He has heard me tell it as a bedtime story, but I won't let him see the movie yet. You know, melting faces. "Well, look - I made one that is similar. Not the same one, just similar." Thanks for the language lesson, Owl.

********************

Next scene takes place in Target, where we have arrived to buy a game for his new DS. This was a reward for doing well in school all year. Not sure if it was the right thing to do, but I made a promise. I am reminding him that after we pick out the game, I have some shopping to do, and then we can go home and play, but not before.

M: "Owl, I need you to be a big boy and display your patience while I shop for some other things, and not misbehave because you want to go home. Do you understand?"

O: "Yes, I understand. I will be patient. - Then, it says 'five minutes later' in front of us and I am crying 'waaah wahh I want my DS!' "

This stopped me in my tracks. Yes, he just gave me stage directions. He told a joke in the form of a movie technique. He's six. I would have thought such ways of thinking about things would be too sophisticated for him.

*************

What does this tell me, while I contemplate ways of making him grow up slower? (Well, besides the fact that this kid watches WAY too much TV.) Kids are much smarter than we are taught they are. Everything I know about children led me to believe babyhood and toddlerhood would last much longer, and that children don't have the capacity to understand things when they are young. I believe that is wrong. They just don't care about boring adult stuff, so they don't bother to learn. Child prodigies are remarkable in that they chose to pick an area and spend time in it - but I suspect a great many children have the same talents, but just don't see any reason to bother to use it yet. I look at the kids I know now, and most of them have a favorite pursuit at which they regularly astonish adults and outstrip their peers. The ability is there, but the interest or motivation is not.

It's how my eight year old nephew can teach the salesman at the car dealership how to program the GPS device, and his younger brother can reproduce impressionist paintings. One of Owl's friends can identify people by the cars they drive, as long as he's seen you in it once. If they have this ability with one thing, how can we keep telling ourselves they couldn't achieve it in others?

Now, as a surprise to myself, I do not advocate forcing kids to perform until we find the area in which they excel. I don't think it matters. They are kids, we should let them have fun. But I will keep reminding myself to stop underestimating kids. They know more than we think.

Raw Milk

2008-06-15T00:49:00.004-04:00

OK, doing without unprocessed milk is not going to really impact my lifestyle, but now tomatoes and spinach are contaminated?

The raw milk issue is more controversial because the FDA has declared raw milk to be "inherently unsafe," and warning against it. So of course, the producers of unpasteurized milk are arguing that the contamination is no more likely than with milk that has been processed. Hmmm.

Those who drink raw milk claim there is no comparison, but I'll stick to pouring chemicals from diet soda into my body. I can handle ice cream and yogurt, but most milk and cheese make me feel yucky. Have I become lactose intolerant?

WNYC had a program on food borne illnesses on Friday. I, of course, listened to it during lunch as I ate my turkey sandwich (sans tomatoes). It reminded me of a class I took in graduate school that explained tapeworm, foodborne illness, fecal-oral contamination....lovely. (Yeah, I can't usually eat at a salad bar) But I sure wash my hands a lot.

Things like this make me want to develop handouts to give to the people who look at me weird when I turn off the faucet and open the restroom door with a paper towel (or my elbow). It's NOT OCD, it's just good hygiene!

This radio show reminded me of NOLA's family's stand on mayonnaise.

It just goes to show - nothing is safe, but I keep reminding myself I am more likely to die from heart disease or stroke because of what I eat than from contamination. So, I shall pay more attention to that.

What won't YOU eat because of health concerns?

It's 9:06. Do You Know Where Your Child's Mind Is?

2008-06-10T00:33:00.003-04:00

Earlier, fighting sleep and trying to engage me in coversation so he could stay up later, Owl hung his head upside down over the edge of the bed and looked at the digital clock. Thinking he was being contrary he asked "Mom, do you know what time it is? It's 9:06." He loves to play this game: Looking at the world upside down and making opposite statements like "Mommy is walking on the ceiling. Why is the light on the floor? I might step on it."

So he was disappointed that I responded "Yes, it is 9:06." Because 906 upside down is 906. I think he still doesn't get why his joke was not funny. He though it was 6:09 in reality, I guess...

But this same clueless kid comes up with the following gem, not five minutes later:

"You know what would be cool, mom?" (If you would go to sleep?)

"It would be cool if we could get free ice cream everyday." (Now, that would be cool.)

"Yeah, free ice cream would be cool. Everyday. And you know what else? If everyone could get a free house."

But, honey, if everybody got their house for free, how would the people who built the house get paid? How would they feed their families?

And I kid you not, this was his reply:

"Well you could get your house for free, but then every year, you give half your money to the people who built it. It would be a program."

Yeah, we call it a no down payment mortgage! Not working out well for the U.S. right now, but geez, how did you know about it? Have you been sneaking into my Marketplace podcasts on the ipod when I think you are listing to Pokemon Battle Frontier?