childhood developement and addiction

If you're interested in parenting you might enjoy this interview about childhood development and addiction...

http://www.alternet.org/world/149325?page=10

parental intervention

This Christmas Jemma got an egg-chair that spins around and has a pull down shade. It does two things that kids love - hides them and makes them dizzy. Needless to say it was a big hit with all the cousins, and I was pleased to see that Jemma was happy to share with everyone.

I was also interested to see that she's perfectly capable of negotiating without any adult involvement - as demonstrated by the following interaction:

Jemma and Janie had been spinning one another around in the chair and Janie had just finished a turn.

Janie: Can I do it one more time?

Jemma: Um... No, thanks. We have to take turns.

Janie: (getting out of the chair) I was just kidding... Wasn't that a funny joke?

Jemma: (getting into the chair) Yeah.

And they happily continued going back and forth.

I've noticed that parents tend to get immediately involved when kids have a conflict. They'll wrench a toy out of their child's hand or tell them the 'right thing' to say. (Heaven forbid their child seems to be un-sharing or uncooperative.) I don't know if this is a fear of what their kid looks like to others (or how their kid's behavior reflects on them as a parent) - or just the instinct to constantly show their child the 'right' way to do things.

Now, I'm not saying that you shouldn't get involved if your kid is hitting another kid over the head with his dump-truck - I just think we need to give them a little (safe) space to figure it out for themselves sometimes. Kids need to learn how to interact - but we don't necessarily need to teach them every second. They're pretty good at resolving things for themselves. Especially if they've seen us model constructive behavior. And constant correction and guidance (even if done nicely) isn't great for self-esteem.

I have trouble not getting involved, too - but in a bit of a different way... It's hard for me to see my daughter struggling, so my instinct is to do everything for her. Which, of course, isn't in her best interest either. I want her to feel confident and capable - so I'm constantly reminding myself to back off a little and let her work things out on her own.

solutions

I was complaining to my husband that a dress I had just bought (in a hurry) was a size too big, but that I couldn't exchange it because I had already cut out the tag.

And his response was, "Well, I guess we'll just have to feed you more."

I love that.

rainy days

It’s raining cats and dogs here. It started a few days ago and it’s not supposed to stop any time soon. When I moved from New York to Los Angeles 10 years ago I remember driving down Sunset Blvd looking up at the sky in awe of how beautiful the day was. I made a promise to myself never to take for granted how amazing days in Los Angeles can be.

I have done a decent job remembering to appreciate how beautiful it is here, at least better than I thought I would, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t use a reminder here or there. Seems I am getting one right now. I think my reminder is supposed to last for a while as we have a few storm systems to get through before sunny days return.

I hope the clouds clear enough to catch a glimpse of a total lunar eclipse happening Tuesday morning. It coincides with the winter solstice. Evidently this particular combination hasn't been seen in 372 years. I'm keeping my fingers crossed these clouds move away, at least long enough to catch a glimpse.

morning conversations

Yesterday morning was our usual rush to get ready for school kind of thing. While I was throwing my hair up on top of my head I heard my 2 youngest daughters Brooke and Allie arguing about something. Their tone wasn’t the, “Oh my God I have a huge fight to dissipate”, but more the, “Oh yeah, here we go again with one of those annoying disagreements that only exists to annoy and irritate the other because it generates a reaction, kind of thing”. Realizing this, I was able to continue getting ready without serious concern World War 3 was about to erupt.

Most of the time these kind of “discussions” just go away without intervention, and sometimes they make their way to me. This one was the latter.

“Mom, Allie is saying God is a hermaphrodite!”

Geez, did I hear that right? Okay now they have my attention.

“Exactly how would God be a hermaphrodite, please tell me?”

Allie, with great conviction, came into my room to explain her case, “Well, you told me God has both energies, male and female, so that would make God a hermaphrodite.”

Yup, she has a point, I guess. I have always believed God has both male and female energy, especially if we were created in God’s image. So without sounding sacrilegious (my sincere apologies if I offend anyone with this), Allie’s statement could in some really odd way, be true.

It’s a weird analogy comparing God and a hermaphrodite, but what I’m thinking it represents mostly is Allie’s attempt to make God seem more like us humans by having male and female attributes.

Most of the time I am pretty hard on myself and I’m thinking I am not alone. So if God is somehow like us, maybe God is not so, well you know, perfect. And if God is not so perfect, then maybe it is okay that I am not either. I feel better.

holding my breath

I just had two days of jury duty - which I hate - and the whole time it was going on I was waiting for it to be over in a suspended state of stress.

It occurrs to me that I experience that same anxiety and impatience with a lot of things... If there's something that I'm not particularly looking forward to I'll worry about it the whole time leading up to the event, and then, when it arrives, I'll figuratively hold my breath until it's done.

It wouldn't be a problem if I only did it for rare and especially arduous tasks, like moving - and believe me, I stress out about moving. But I do it for small things too, like errands I don't want to run, and appointments and deadlines...

I've been doing it waiting for the adoption referral for 'baby sister' smith... And then (very recently) we got the referral. The waiting for that particular thing was over, and I was thrilled. But right after that I began holding my breath for the court date - which we don't have yet.

And I realized that there will always be something that I'm waiting for. And there will always be something that I'm obliged to do that I'd rather not do - or something that inconveniences me or makes me anxious. And to worry, or to wish I were doing something else is a monumental waste of time... What's more, it's ungrateful (perhaps unintentionally - but ungrateful, nonetheless).

I want my days to be mindful - and not just during the bits that I happen to consider enjoyable or entertaining. So often we numb ourselves with our drug of choice (I'm beginning to suspect mine is worry) to 'get through' our lives. But life's not that long, after all - so I might as well just keep breathing while I can.

fashion advice

Last night I had plans to go out to dinner at a fabulous restaurant called Del Posto. It's a relatively formal place, so I wanted to look nice...

But it was freezing outside, and in the end I selected a dress that I didn't especially like, but it was warm, and I figured everyone at the restaurant would be more interested in the food than my attire. I asked Jemma what she thought of the dress, and she gave it a 'sideways thumb' - which is to say, it wasn't a 'thumbs up' but it wasn't terrible enough to merit a 'thumbs down'.

"You don't like it?" I asked.

"It's okay," she said. "I'm just afraid other people will laugh at you."

Needless to say I found something else to wear.

But I don't want you to think my 4 year old daughter is my personal stylist - if she were I'd wear nothing but pink and purple... Although, if I'm honest about my current wardrobe, I have to admit that it would probably be an improvement if she were...

love letters

Lately Jemma's been writing a lot of letters. Not the alphabetical kind... but correspondences.

If I'm too tired to get up with her in the morning (and she gets up very early) I try to find things that she can do for awhile to give me a little longer to sleep. The only that she likes to do without coming in to talk to me every five minutes is draw and - more recently - write letters. She figures out the how the spelling should go based on sound, and usually I can tell what she's trying to say... (If I have trouble deciphering what she's written , she tells me - sometimes impatiently - "Just sound it out, Mommy".)

Last night Jemma wrote a letter to Luca (a boy in her class.)

It said, "Dear Luca, When I grow up I want you to be one of my choices for who I marry."

When I read it, she told me that she wanted to marry Luca.

"Okay," I said.

"I fell in love with him," she explained, and waited for my reaction.

"You can marry him if you want to," I said. "But when you're older there may be someone else you want to marry."

"Nope." She said, "I'm not changing my mind ever."

However, this morning she announced that now she wants to marry Zora...

back in the saddle

Once upon a time I started a blog... and I was pretty good about writing fairly regularly (with a few minor lapses).

And then - more than a week ago - I simply stopped...

And I have to ask myself, 'what the heck'?

The answer is that there's no real reason. Every day I think I'll do an entry - sometimes I even have something to say (like the fact that "The King's Speech" is a really good movie, and that you should go see it) but ever since the Thursday before last I just haven't done it. I think I secretly kept putting it off, hoping that my friend Ellen - who also posts on everything(sort of)- would fill in the gap. (Hint, hint, Ellen!)

It's not that I've given up writing entirely. Quite the opposite, in fact. At the moment I'm working on a couple of projects that I'm really excited about... which is great - but that doesn't do much for my poor, neglected blog...

My apologies - both to the blog itself, and to any optimistic soul out there who might still be checking to see if I will ever post again.

To make amends, here are some photos from this past weekend.

subway static

The other day I was in the subway when an argument broke out between two young women. It was crowded, and one of them had accidentally bumped into the other.

The first woman had said "excuse me" but apparently that wasn't enough for the irate recipient of the bump.
"You just kicked me!" she said. "You should say you're sorry."
"I didn't kick you" the first woman countered, "And I said, 'excuse me'."
"You didn't say you're sorry - and your foot was on top of mine!"
"I didn't kick you."

The conversation continued in circles, with each woman repeating the same things she had already said - and each new round featuring the addition of foul language, recommendations to use private transportation, and the threat of smacking the other person in the face. Every time they were quiet for a few moments I thought they were done with it - but then they would just started up again, getting more and more vehement. I watched them nervously, wondering whether I should step in - but knowing that it probably wouldn't do any good. Finally they stopped. Or, at least, I thought they had stopped....

But then as the woman who had been kicked was getting off the train she threw her elbow into the other woman. She must have been thinking she was going to get in her last licks as she left - but suddenly the first woman grabbed her by the hair, pulling her back into the car and yanking her head down toward the ground.

That was when the people standing closest to them got involved. Somehow, they managed to pry the women apart, and the one who had been leaving got off the train. The passengers seemed to let out a collective sigh of relief when the doors closed and we started moving again, but the air was still charged with the echo of violence.

The car was still pretty packed, and I was standing in the aisle when I felt a jolt.
"Sorry." It was a young guy who had been instrumental in the breakup. He was sitting in a chair near where I was standing and he had accidentally kicked my foot.
"S'okay." I said immediately.
Then, making the connection at the same time, we looked at each other and laughed. Without thinking, we grasped one other's hand. It was only for an instant - an instinctive handshake that acknowledged everything that had just happened.

Then just as quickly the moment was gone. I put my hand in my pocket and looked away... And we were all just strangers on the train again.

disconnect

My mom just got me a book called "Disconnect", which is about the potential dangers of cell phones. And I have to say, I'm not excited to read it. I don't really want to find out that something that I do every day is (possibly very) harmful to my health.

These devices are legitimately useful, and can be real life-savers in certain situations... But I find that 99.9% of my cell phone use is unnecessary. Or, not unnecessary, exactly - but certainly not something I'd trade my health for...

But it's hard not to do. I suppose it's because we can't see or feel the damage early on. Kind of like smoking, that way... And like many smokers I'm 'trying to cut down' - but sometimes still shock myself with how much time I spend on the cell phone.

If you're interested in reading more about cell phone radiation here's an article:

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/14/business/14digi.html?_r=3

And check out this site to see whether your cell phone is one of the 'worst' or 'best' in terms of radiation:

http://sayiamgreen.com/blog/2009/10/how-much-radiation-does-your-cellphone-give-off/

Recommended reading

I recently got together with a friend who asked me about (the Swedish theologian) Emmanuel Swedenborg. She knew that I'm a 'swedenborgian', and she was interested in reading a brief overview of his life and works - as an introduction of sorts. She asked whether I could recommend a book. But I couldn't think of anything off the top of my head, so I told her I'd do a little research for something that would be appropriate.

As luck would have it, a minister that I respect a great deal just wrote a book for this very purpose - and it came out this month. (It's 'Swedenborg's Garden of Theology' by Jonathan Rose.) Talk about serendipity.

I picked up a copy for my friend and started leafing through it. And it looks fantastic. Suffice it to say that I haven't sent it to my friend yet... But I will. (I've already ordered another copy for myself.)

xo

Some mornings I'll get into Jemma's bed with her and we'll lie there quietly or talk until we're both awake enough to get up and greet the day.

Today she asked me,"Why do all mommies tell their daughters that they're 'the best little girl in the world'?"

"Probably because they love them so much." I said.

Then she said, "Do you know what? We feel the same way."

leaf collection

Jemma loves collecting leaves. And sticks and rocks, too - but right now her favorite thing to bring home is leaves. When we're walking she'll stop every four or five steps to pick one up off the sidewalk. Sometimes she'll even pick one out of the gutter and hand it to me. My coat pockets are stuffed with leaves. So is my purse. But I draw the line at the ones that are wet or rotting. She tries to give them to me anyway...

I haven't been able to figure out what makes some of them special to her. She'll go for the brightly colored ones, of course - but other times she'll hand me ones that are dull and tattered and falling apart. But she firmly believes that every one of them is special. And she watches to make sure I put them away carefully.

One afternoon we were making our way home from school by way of the park. We were walking with a few of the kids from her class, and one of the girls noticed that Jemma was collecting leaves, and started making fun of her. I explained to the girl that Jemma really likes leaves - and that I do, too - and that we were planning on doing a leaf project together. (At which point I started a mental list of cool leaf projects.) This seemed to make Jem more comfortable, and the girl stopped taunting her.

But a few moments later Jemma was calling me urgently. I went over to where the girls were playing, and the other girl was holding a beautiful leaf. "Maybe they're collecting leaves together now," I thought. No such luck...

"I was about to pick up that leaf and she grabbed it." Jemma told me.

"Well, let's find you another leaf." I suggested...

"No" Jemma said desperately, her eyes filling with tears. "That one's mine - and I need it." Distraction wasn't going to work this time... Apparently this was the perfect leaf.

The other little girl smiled smugly.

I'm pretty good at reasoning with kids. So I thought I'd give it a try. I went over and squatted down beside her.

"I wonder if you could give that leaf to Jemma, since it seems very important to her, and since you don't really care about leaves that much..." I started. But as I was speaking the girl held the leaf up, and slowly ripped it apart - her eyes on Jemma the whole time.

I watched Jemma's face as her expression changed from disbelief to horror to anguish. She let out a heartbroken cry. It broke my heart a little, too. It was startling to see such a perfect representation of cruelty and disregard played out by 4-year-olds. It was the kind of thing you usually only see in movies...

There was nothing to do but put my arms around my daughter.

"It's okay," I said. "There are so many other leaves. I'm sure we'll find an even better one."

And then, as unexpectedly as the sun breaking through during a rainstorm, one of the other kids appeared holding another leaf - different from the first one, but equally beautiful. She handed it to Jemma, saying, "Here's one for your collection." And, with that small kindness, everything was better. And we were on our way again.

yum!

I've never really enjoyed 'food scenes' in movies. You know, the ones in which a character will take a bite of some gloriously lit morsel, and violins begin to play as the character displays over-the-top ecstasy at what they're consuming.

It just seems to me that it's not something that translates well into film... or perhaps it's simply the way it's usually done... Since the audience can't smell or taste the food, I think the filmmakers get heavy handed in 'showing' us how much the character's enjoying what they're eating. But usually I just end up feeling like, "I get it - it's good." and wishing they would move on to the next shot - which they usually do a full 5 minutes later. (Maybe it only feels like five minutes to me...)

But this past weekend I had a pizza experience that could have been in the most irritating of the scenes I'm referring to.

The pizza came out, and it looked pretty good - but then, I do like pizza - so it always looks good to me. And then I took a bite... and the scene began. I was oohing and aaahing and mugging for a camera that wasn't even there. And I can't be certain, but I'm pretty sure there were violins, too...

Best pizza I've tasted. Anywhere. Ever.

If you find yourself in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, check out Motorino. Or make a special trip just to try their pizza - it's worth it.

http://www.motorinopizza.com/

everything is going be alright

Last night one of my daughters was having a hard time about something and I could not find the words to comfort her. In fact after a solid 30 minutes of trying I was completely out of ideas. Nothing was working and whatever I said only exasperated her problem. To say I was feeling helpless and well, to be completely honest, useless in the parental arena is putting it mildly.

Out of sheer desperation I looked up to the ceiling for help (like inspiration would come from there?), and my daughter said, “Mom, if you would just tell me everything is going to be okay, I would be alright!”.

How ridiculous that I couldn’t come up with those words myself. Pretty obvious, right? Isn’t that what we all want to hear, that everything really will be okay.

mr. roboto

Some mornings when you get up stretching feels so good. And other mornings - like this morning - things don't work out so well.

I'm not talking about the kind of stretching that you're supposed to do before and after exercise - the slow, gentle routines that lengthen your muscles and make you more flexible. I'm talking about a just-woke-up cat stretch.

I did one of those this morning and something went wrong (don't ask me how) and I ended up with a stiff neck. Now I'm walking around like Mr. Roboto.

right this way

It feels like I've been doing nothing but visiting schools lately... (Which isn't too far from the truth, since we're looking at several schools - most of which require a parent interview, student interview, and a tour). But it's important to feel comfortable with a place that Jemma will be spending so much time next year, so I'm putting in the hours...

The tours are tedious - and sometimes feel entirely unnecessary. You usually get a feeling for a school right away, and the rest is just killing time. It's amazing how quickly you get a gut reaction to a place. So far I've seen a lot of nice schools, as well as a few - some with great reputations - that I wouldn't consider sending my daughter to. However, I went on a tour yesterday that was absolutely fabulous. The school itself is lovely, and the atmosphere is one in which I imagine children would flourish. It's just a nice place to be - which made the tour much more palatable. I ended up feeling like if they would have let me apply for a spot in their kindergarten for myself I probably would have. The location is a little out of the way for us... but it's worth considering because it seems like such a special place.

I still have several more schools to visit. I won't be able to make any real comparisons until January, when I'll have checked out enough of them to make an informed decision...

halloween

Oh, I almost forgot...

We did get back from our trip in time for trick-or-treating.

And Jem wore this.

virginia

We just got back from Virginia, where we visited my husband's favorite professor from college, Dabney Stuart. We got to introduce him to Jemma - and Jemma got to introduce him to the ipad.



My husband is convinced that one day we'll retire down there - and I (northern girl that I am) am equally convinced that we won't...

But we had a wonderful time. It's a beautiful part of the country, and a magnificent time of year to be there.

Everything about the trip was pleasant: we had great visits with the people we had gone down to see, the weather was perfect - even the music in the airport as we were waiting to come home was great - as though they were playing a soundtrack just for me... (they went from XTC to Elvis Costello, to Morrissey, to R.E.M. - it was pretty remarkable.) When I commented on this, my husband turned to me with a smirk, and said, "So, you want to live here?"

Well, no. I don't want to move into an airport in Virginia - but I sure enjoyed my visit.

light at the end of the tunnel

I finally received the last document I need to get Italian citizenship. (I think... you never know what they'll have to say when I'm actually trying to register.)

So now I have to go to the consulate to make an appointment for a meeting - they never answer the phone - about whether I have all of the appropriate documents. After that meeting I can make another appointment for the actual meeting when I'll submit the documents and request my Italian passport.

Sounds easy enough (albeit time-consuming). The only concern I have at the moment is that I think they keep my US passport while they're processing everything... And they could keep it for several months (yikes!). So I need to be careful about the timing...

mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful

We had a great time down at my parents' house this weekend. There were the perfect ingredients for fun: magnificent weather, lots of kids around for Jemma to play with (including her best friend, Janie), and mud.

Maybe I should explain 'mud'...

The kids were playing together outside in a dirt pile - the boys digging tunnels and the girls carefully wheeling away spade-fulls of dirt to the driveway. And I was keeping an eye on them while my sister went shopping.

Everything was going smoothly. Everyone was getting along with everyone else, and I was relaxing in the sun trying to soak up some vitamin D. Then one of the boys brought over a bucket of water and turned the dirt pile into a mud pit. And that's when I had a choice...

I knew that it would be a pain in the you-know-what to clean up if I let them play in the mud, and that my sister (the mother of two of the kids) would be really mad. I also knew that the kids would absolutely LOVE it.

I said to Ben (my sister's little boy) "You know if I let you guys play in the mud your mom's going to kill me."

"Yes," he admitted. "She will. But we won't get in trouble." He was right. It would be my fault for letting them do it. And my getting in trouble didn't seem like much of a deterrent. But I need to mention one thing...

My sister hates dirt. She doesn't just hate it - she won't tolerate it. Her house - and her kids - are always immaculately scrubbed and spotless. I pity the speck of dust that dares to settle on her floor. However, this didn't stop me from saying, "yes." In fact, I think it encouraged me. First, because when would they ever be able to do this again? (Certainly never at home.) And second, because if my sister can expose my daughter to massive amounts of refined sugar every time we have a visit (which she does, without fail) I certainly have the right to expose her kids to a little dirt now and again... or, better yet, mud.

Now, before you think I'm the worst sister ever, you should know that I had the kids showered and dressed before she got home. I even rinsed out their dirty clothing...



We did lots of other great stuff this weekend, too - like horseback riding, building hay forts, and carving pumpkins - but I suspect what they'll remember most is the mud.

grrrrrr

I’m going to vent today. I have to because I’m angry. I hate it when parents send their kids to school sick. It is possibly one of the most inconsiderate things a parent can do. Do they really think that somehow their child will not infect everyone around them? I don’t get it. Have you seen the way kids sneeze and cough?

I have three kids which means I have three kids that can get sick. Trying to keep germs from spreading in my home is hard enough, but impossible in a class filled with little children, especially the little runny nose ones.

It is probably a good thing I am not a teacher because I wouldn't be able to hold myself back from telling those parents exactly what I think. I get exposing children to germs makes their immune system stronger, blablabla, but this is just plain rude, and cruel.

just zip it

This morning I was talking with one of the other moms at my daughter's preschool. It started out innocently enough, with her asking if anyone had any opinions about the ipad. So I told her - very enthusiastically- what I thought. I love it, by the way. But apple hasn't hired me to sell their product, and I probably didn't need to be as vehement as I was about it...

I guess that wasn't so bad, though - I just looked like an overly enthusiastic consumer. At some point, however, the conversation shifted to iphones - and to cell phones in general, - and for some reason I felt the need to give this person a lecture on radiation. Well, that led into the general topic of potentially harmful things that we don't think about (or in some cases, even know about.) I could tell I was losing her, but my lips kept moving faster and faster, as if by getting out some vital bit of information I could salvage the conversation. I had moved on to genetically modified foods when her eyes started to glaze over.

Of course, I realized I was going on and on - and I really was about to stop... But then, this poor woman (who was simply trying to contribute something to the conversation) made the mistake of making what she probably thought was a general and innocuous comment. What she said was, "it's important for government to be involved with food regulation to make sure foods are safe for us." (There was no way I couldn't say something about that...)

I'm not sure whether I stopped talking first, or whether she stopped pretending to listen... but I finally was able to get a grip on myself and zip it. (Which is probably the only reason she'll ever speak to me again.)

I have no intention of picking up where I left off here... But here are some interesting links if you're inclined to investigate further (without my having to listen to my rant.)


GMOs:

http://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2007/08/02/genetically-modified-organisms-are-a-looming-threat.aspx


Government 'safety' legislation:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jeffrey-smith/youre-appointing-who-plea_b_243810.html

mermaid

My brother-in-law, Ben, just sent me these photos he took at the end of summer...

rules of conduct

This morning I set out to visit one of the schools we're considering for Jemma for next year. As I was about to leave the house Jemma said to me, "Mommy, you look nice - you look very fashion."

It's not often that I look 'fashion'. (It pretty much just means that I wasn't wearing sweat pants, and that I had brushed my hair - but I enjoyed the compliment anyway...)

I did the tour with a bunch of other parents - all of whom were also looking quite 'fashion' (because we're all extremely aware that the schools are evaluating us, too.)

This particular school seemed like a nice environment - one in which the kids were respected and valued for their unique qualities (which, of course, made me a fan).

In one of the classrooms I noticed a poster that the children had made, listing behavior guidelines they had come up with.

One of these read: "Don't laugh at somebody when they fall down."

I like that. It strikes me as a very good rule... and not just for little kids.

Especially today, when the very best way to be 'fashion' is to wear purple - to support kindness and acceptance.

slippery slope

I had forgotten my old steadfast rule for pushing through difficult times until a good friend gently reminded me of it today. She said, “Don’t focus on the question, how do I get there, but instead, where do I want to go?”.

I know (and whole heartily admit) I have let myself get caught on this slippery slope yet again. I know I am consuming my brain with stupid logistics (thus the real and present danger my head could explode at any given moment). The worse part is I know I don’t have a shot in hell of figuring out where I want to go because there is no room left in my brain from all my “how do I get there” questions. This should be simple to fix, right?

I’m always baffled how easily old lessons seem to slip away. Thank God for good friends, especially when self-induced amnesia sets in.

music video

My daughter's favorite band is The Wiggles. The other day she noticed that they had never made a video for a song of theirs that she really likes, so we decided to make one of our own... After I recorded her dancing to the song she said, "Great. I want everyone to see it."

"Okay," I said. "I'll show it to Papa when he gets home."

"I mean everyone," she responded. "Everyone in the world."

So I said, "I guess I could post it on my blog - that way more people would see it..."

Then she told me that she knew just how to introduce it. (So I took dictation.)

"My child did a very groovy dance. She danced to Balla balla balla bambina. And it looked like this."





"And it looked so nice that I put it for everyone in the world - and if everyone sees this blog everyone will get to see this video."

back to school

As I mentioned in an earlier post, this is Jemma's last year of preschool, and we're in the process of looking at schools for her for next year. So I've been thinking about education a lot lately...

This is a fascinating (and very entertaining) talk about education by Sir Ken Robinson:

be calm...just breathe

We are well into the first week of Taylor driving. I'm going to be honest here. I have been dreading the moment I would find myself planted in the passenger seat with Taylor behind the wheel. I have been putting it off on her dad and even our babysitter as long as possible.

But happily I am here to report my anxiety ridden thoughts are worse than my reality. Thank God Tay has a healthy fear of driving, and more importantly, a healthy respect for the law. I think my car has made more complete stops in the last week than in the entire last year.

And other than being scarily close to cars on the right, she is doing pretty amazingly well. Tay nervously joked about her "car spacial issue" today, and said it is becoming a trend with 15 year olds at her school not to have side mirrors.

thinking about the weather

Some days it's easy not to get out and exercise (or get out at all), take vitamins, or get enough sleep... Some days it's easy not to shave your legs - or even shower... Easy not to care if the other mothers notice when you pick your kid up from school wearing the same sweats you were wearing the day before because you slept in them... Easy not to write...

But today - glorious and sparkling - nudged me into making an effort - in spite of my overwhelming feeling of inertia. Sometimes good weather helps...

bang bang

I've always hated bangs... Maybe that's because when I was a kid mine were always too short. My mother wanted them above my eyebrows... Way above. (I remember trying to trick the barber by raising my eyebrows while my bangs were being cut, but I think that probably just made them more crooked than usual.)

So when my daughter's hair grew in - she was essentially bald when she was born- I grew out her bangs as soon as I could.

But Jemma can't stand wearing barrettes. Or hairbands. Or elastics. If I put something in her hair she takes it out after about three minutes. She's just not a hair combed and coiffed kind of girl...

I think her wild-looking hair suits her. But then, I may just think that because I like not having to 'do' her hair... (I don't even brush my own...) But having your hair in your face can be a hindrance. Especially if you're in preschool trying to work on art projects...

Jemma doesn't seem to mind it, but I'm sure her teachers have some opinions on the subject.

So I decided to cut Jemma's bangs. (After-all, she's not the one who hates them.) I figured it would make her life easier - she'd be able to see, and she wouldn't have to keep saying, "no thank you" every time I offered to pull her hair back.

And they look great on her - in spite of the fact that she's got curly hair - which sometimes just doesn't work with bangs... (Granted, I'm biased. I think Jemma looks cute in anything - even poison ivy.)

In fact, I'm feeling a little jealous. If I didn't look so terrible in bangs they'd be the perfect solution to the lines on my forehead.... For now I'll just enjoy Jemma's.

Charlotte's Web

“Life is always better when you're waiting for something to grow”, Charlotte from Charlotte's Web, E.B. White

I was in my daughter's 4th grade classroom yesterday and this quote was posted on the wall. Her class is in the middle of learning about planting vegetables and flowers, so the quote is pretty relevant to them. I was thinking more in line with things like growth in friendships and love, but flowers work too.

And then there is the other point of view, which is much funnier. A friend told me Charlotte's Web was the first book she had ever read. She remembered shedding a lot of tears from it (must have been a ton of tears since she still remembers. You see, my friend is as old as me thus requiring this traumatic event to have occured decades ago). It so profoundly effected her that to this day she has never wanted to kill a spider.

I bet EB White has saved millions of spiders from being smashed.

dress for success

Today I got into my work out clothes. Never made it to the gym... But, hey, it's a step in the right direction.

Tay's blog

talk talk

While many conversations with children are about things that might not interest the adult a whole heck of a lot, (i.e. comparing the voices of the guys in 'The Wiggles') it's unwise to assume you can just throw in "filler" conversation. They know the difference.

The other night I was putting Jem to bed and said something like, "I'm so glad to have Papa home. Aren't you?"

And she said, "Of course I am, Mommy. Why do you ask?"

"Ummm. I don't know... Just making conversation."

representation

So, I went to the doctor yesterday - after nearly a month of trying to battle this cough on my own I figured I ought to - and it turns out I have bronchitis and possibly pneumonia... (I wouldn't let them do the chest x-rays to be sure... the treatment's the same, and I don't have any need to spice up my life with extra radiation, thank you.) It sounds rather serious - but it's really not that big a deal. I just take antibiotics (I refused the steroid inhaler) and I should get better.

At this point I should address the fact that I sound like a pain in the you-know-what patient, refusing certain tests and treatments - but I'm not. Really. I'm just very conservative about what I subject my body to. Always have been. And, quite frankly, I'm pretty sure my body's grateful. It should be - considering all the 'fun' I could have had in my younger years, when I behaved myself instead. (Plus, I don't just make crazy medical choices willy-nilly - I always get input from the doctors in my family.)

Anyway, none of this is very interesting. It's simply the setting for something that is. Very. While I was hacking away, sitting amidst a pile of tissues, I had a phone conversation with my agent. Yes, that's right - I said, "my agent." My agent. Meaning that I have one.

For the past couple of days the sound of "WOO-HOOO!!!" and "YIPPEE!!!" has been echoing off the walls around here... Kind of glad you can't hear it, actually. Makes me sound too excited - like it's a big deal. Which, of course, it is. At least for me, because I haven't had a literary agent before. And now I do.

I wonder, can you call yourself a writer once you have an agent, or do you have to wait until you've been published?

Also, do any two words sound better together than 'my' and 'agent'? Nope... Not at the moment.

behind the wheel

My daughter just got her learners permit. California law regarding young drivers is pretty good.

At 15 1/2 years old, Taylor had to pass an online test before she could go to the DMV (this part was only 4 hours. Ouch) and take another written test. Now with an official learners permit, Tay has to get 6 hours of driving lessons and 50 hours of driving time with an adult before she can get her drivers license at the age of 16.

Even with all of that, I am still hesitant about the whole idea of a 16 year old being mature enough to get behind the wheel (and of course that is completely hypocritical since I know for a FACT I was mature enough to drive by myself at 16). Although I can think of a few people that would take issue with that comment.

more movie recommendations

(Because there's nothing else to write about on this rainy day.) Except that, yes, I'm still sick - which I don't think anyone wants to hear any more about...

Two films I saw recently were "The Social Network" (which I didn't really want to see) and "The Town" (which I didn't really want to see either). There wasn't really anything else out that my husband and I could agree upon... (I had no chance of convincing him to see "Easy A").

Interestingly, they were both good. Entirely different - but entertaining and satisfying... and both movies I'd recommend.

cough, cough

I know being sick isn't much of an excuse for not posting... but there it is. I've had a miserable cough for the past three weeks, and whatever it is just decided to kick in with a fever, headache and chills... so I figure not posting is a kindness (who knows what delirious things I might write in my condition?)

I wasn't feeling too sick to go out and see a movie last night, however. And I'll recommend it - even though as a general rule I hate documentaries. (This makes my husband laugh, because some of my very favorite films have been documentaries... I think I just have a mental block with them. I really really really don't want to go see them, and then - if they're good - I'm really glad I went. Kind of like yoga, that way.)

Check out Waiting for 'Superman' if you have a chance. It's good... informative and interesting. A little depressing, too - because it very clearly describes the situation in public schools in the US, and isolates the problem - but unfortunately it's not a something you can fix (even by raising enough money...)

I'd like to open a can of 'whoop-ass' on the president of the teachers' union. Maybe that would help...

nicknames

Nicknames are funny things... Sometimes they're funny. Sometimes they're just mean - especially when they're unkind and even more so when they're unkind and accurate... But often nicknames are a way we bond with others.

For most people nicknames are casual, and full names are reserved for more formal occasions. (My mother never called me by a nickname when I was in trouble, for example.)

But for some reason the opposite is true of the interaction between my husband and me... I call my husband 'Scott Smith'. All the time. I only call him 'Scott' if I'm annoyed with him and being nasty - or if there are people around that it might sound strange to. (I'm aware that it's kind of an unusual practice, and I have one sister who is absolutely driven crazy by the fact that I use my husband's full name...) And he never calls me 'Emily' either. It's always 'Emily Lemole' - even though my name is technically "Emily Smith" now...

No idea why this is the case... but it works for us.

Inexplicably - or perhaps not inexplicably, but I'm not going to explain them - some of my nicknames are:

William
Willie
Em
Moo
Baby Moose
Geemoo
Emily Lemily
Emilicious
Eems
Emil Belinsky
Danky (or Dank)

Okay, I'll explain 'Danky'. When I was little I heard someone say "dammit!" so I tried to say it, too - but what came out instead was an emphatic, "Dank it!"

I have an uncle who thought it was so funny that he started calling me 'Dank'. It's what he calls me to this day, and I always feel a surge of affection when he says it...

heat wave

It's officially SUMMER in Los Angeles. Not the fall, no, the summer. We are experiencing what those weathermen/women fondly refer to as a "heat wave". I call it a heat tsunami. It is 115 degrees right now, it's 4:30 in the afternoon, and we still have more than a few hours left to endure this brutal sun.

I grew up in Georgia, but even with all that joyous August humidity I don't remember it ever feeling this way. When my girls got off their school bus today they literally fell out of the bus. I think we are all in heat shock.

P.s.

My last post made it sound like I'm remarkably patient all the time - and I do put a lot of effort into it, but the results vary.

On another sleepless night not too long long ago Jemma referred to me as a "furious monster" - and I can't say her description was entirely wrong...

a pain in the you-know-what

Last night Scott went out to watch the Jets game with a friend, and Jemma wasn't happy about it.

"What if I need someone and you don't hear me?" She asked me.
"Well, just call a little louder," I said. "Or come in and get me."

She shook her head. "But that would be a pain in the you-know-what!"

I'm not sure whether she meant a pain in the you-know-what for me or a pain in the you-know-what for her...

And I don't think she has any idea what you-know-what is standing in for - it's just an expression she's heard me use. The interesting thing is, I've never used it to her - or (to the best of my recollection) even when she was listening...

The fact is that children imitate what you do and say - which stinks if you happen to use foul language, and your kid starts cursing like a sailor in front of his teacher... But if you make an effort to behave in a particular way they copy that, too.

I always try to be as patient as I can be with Jemma.

The other night Jem couldn't sleep - and when she can't sleep she doesn't just lie in bed - she wakes me to let me know she's awake, and to see if I can help...

I know that everyone has different ideas about 'sleep hygiene' and most people think I'm crazy to get up at night with my daughter... But the bottom line for me is that it's not something she has control over. She's having a problem - she's not trying to be a pain in the you-know-what.

So that night she was waking up every few hours, and having difficulty getting back to sleep. The first couple of times were easy. But when it took from 1 to 3 for her to fall back to sleep, and then 5 o'clock rolled around and she woke up again I couldn't believe it. At that point I'd had a total of 3 hours of sleep, was groggy, and more than a little grumpy. As I stumped into her room, bleary-eyed and groaning, she said to me, "You seem frustrated, Mommy. Take a deep breath."

It was disconcerting and vaguely annoying to be given advice by someone who was recently a toddler - but it was amazing to me that she was aware that I was having difficulty helping her, and was trying to help me.

I took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry I can't sleep." She said.
"I am, too." I told her, and got into bed beside her.
I put my arm around her.

I do my best to help when she's struggling, and she does her best to help me, too... even when it's a pain in the you-know-what.

one of the guys

Community is an important part of the human experience, and most people would say that their communities play a significant role in their lives. I always thought I was an exception to this - having typically loitered on the outskirts of any community I've ever been a part of - but then my husband pointed out that my community just happens to be my family...

Jemma seems to have created her own community with a bunch of stuffed animals that she refers to as ' my guys'. They sleep on her bed with her, and - while they don't have the 'lovey' status of her bear, Cubile - are very important to her.

For awhile she'd bring the whole group into our room in the early mornings, to cuddle with us until it was time to get up. I don't know how she managed to carry them all - at one point there were 7 of them - but she'd show up will her arms full, climb into our bed and arrange them, giving one to me and one to Scott, and piling the rest together near her. For some reason she always gave me 'cuddley duck' and Scott always got the kitty-cat ballerina... I don't know why she thought Scott needed that particular 'guy' - but it never varied. Some mornings when Jemma didn't feel like getting into bed with us, she'd just bring in the ballerina and tuck it under her dad's arm while he slept...

She hasn't brought them into our room for quite some time now - but they still live at the bottom of her bed. Every once in awhile a new one will join them or one of the older ones will make its way back to the toy-chest...

Jemma seems to know we all need community... One day she brought me a present. She watched expectantly as I opened it (it was a stuffed animal of a Fennec fox) and said, "I got it for you because you didn't have a 'guy' - and now you have one."

self-esteem

When I was pregnant with my daughter, the one wish I had clearly formed in my mind was that she'd have a strong sense of self, and not experience all the insecurities that I had when I was younger. (I do realize that experiencing self-doubt is part of growing up - and part of being human - but some individuals are more confident than others, and I wanted her to be one of those...)

For the most part, I got my wish. While Jemma is a sensitive child, she seems to have a healthy self-image, as demonstrated by this exchange:

We were in a store and there was a little boy of about 4 sitting in his stroller. He was having a miserable time, fussing and crying, and when Jemma asked what was wrong his mother explained that he had just stopped taking naps, and was having trouble adjusting...

Jemma wanted try to cheer him up, but that didn't work out very well...

He scowled at her and said, "You're bad!"

This didn't seem to faze her. She simply responded, "I'm good."

But he insisted, "No you're not! You're not good."

Jemma just said, "I am good." Then she added, "I'm wonderful."

irresponsible advertising

I just saw Ellen's post on "love the way you lie" and I agree that what appears to be the message is upsetting...

My own personal rant, however, happens to be about movie posters - specifically horror ads. As a parent I find it dismaying that these disturbing (and often truly disgusting) images are put up in public spaces with no regulation whatsoever... regardless of the fact that children are seeing them.

If I had to choose for my four-year-old to pass by a billboard with an ad for alcohol or tobacco (the two most highly regulated industries) or an ad for a horror flick, I'd choose the former every time. The first two wouldn't even register for a kid that age - they don't really have a context for it. But you don't need a context to be terrorized by a demonic visage or to have the image of a mutilated, terrified, or tortured individual make an indelible impact.

The other day my daughter stopped in front of one of these posters and looked perplexed. "Is that an elephant?" She asked, trying to make sense of the image in front of her. The picture was of a girl who was broken - bent over backwards with her arms splayed out behind her in a stance so unnatural that the content of the image was initially unrecognizable. "Yep, an elephant," I said, and quickly guided her away before her eyes were able to see it as anything else.

If I object to what's playing in a movie theater I don't have to go, and if I don't like what's on the television or the radio I can change the station or just turn it off. I don't have these options with posters promoting films. It's infuriating, because other than locking my child indoors, I have no way of protecting her from them...

love the way you lie

Please correct me if I’m wrong. Seriously, please do.
I want to be wrong, but is the song “love the way you lie”
by Eminem and Rihanna about abuse and liking it?

a curse

I remember hearing more than a few times how beauty can be a curse but never completely understood why, that is, until last week.

Standing in line to get a food voucher last week was a 17 year old girl. With faded blue jeans and a t-shirt she made her way through the food line. She was thin with long wavy hair. I noticed her immediately because it’s pretty unusual to see someone her age in line. Usually it’s filled with middle-age men, and occasionally a woman, but not a young girl.

As she quietly approached the table her beauty struck me. Looking into her eyes I noticed a light that really was impossible to ignore. Her beauty is the kind that any teenage girl dreams of, just plain and simple beauty.

I smiled and for a second felt happy for her. Her shy smile was contagious, but my stomach began aching as it dawned on me. In most places her beauty would be a blessing, but for this girl it was a curse. Every predator would come after her and she probably stood defenseless against them. Such a sad thing, her beauty.

did i do it?

School is back in session. I always hate it when people say, “time flys”, but I can’t think of anything more descriptive to express this particular feeling.

Our last summer was pretty crazy. We were in the middle of moving, renovating and learning how to navigate through a divorce. Nothing felt settled. After a completely un-fulfilling summer, I vowed to slow this next one down and didn’t plan usual summer stuff…long trips and over-activity, just good old hanging around. I dreamed of hearing the words, “I’m bored” come from my girl’s mouths. I wasn’t sure how this particular picture would look by the end of the summer, but had high hopes.

Now with the official end of the summer here, looking around the house things definitely look different. Our dining table has become nail polish headquarters (I think we now have pretty much every color on the market available),Twister and Monopoly are no longer lost in the back of the game cabinet, and the grass in our yard has clear and defined dead spots from little feet running over it. Mud spots I should say. Mud has never looked so good.

It's weird sitting in our den watching my oldest daughter plow through her stack of homework. I can’t stop thinking about the no pressure moments from summer when our biggest worry was figuring out who would be the official spinner for Twister.

I’m thinking the real test will come in a few days when my girl's yearly school writing assignment, “what I did this summer” makes it's way home. I’m wondering if the words “I was bored” will appear. Oh I hope so.

the ring of truth

Once a long time ago I told Jemma that I have my engagement ring because Papa loves me, and my wedding ring because I love him back.

Today at lunch she was looking at my rings, and asked: "Does that mean that you guys will always remember that you love each other?"

And I think that often remembering is exactly what it's about.... the love is there between (all of) us - whether we happen to be experiencing it at a given moment or not. The tricky part is to remember it.

dead fish

Our fish died... Not the one that was sick - one of the other, perfectly healthy ones. The one that's been at death's door for the past 4 months is still (happily) lying at the bottom of the bowl.

Completely unrelated, but consistent with the climate of ill-health in our home at the moment: Jem and I both have especially hideous coughs. Scott seems to have been spared, since he's away on a business trip...

"No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in this present little instant."
-Fra Giovanni Giocondo

I know what it looks like...

But I haven't abandoned my blog... (Not entirely, anyway.)

I just haven't been able to do any posting recently - and, trust me, you should be glad I haven't. Recent contemplations have included which kindergarten program would best suit my child, and why the washing machine at the beach house where we spent Labor Day would have the settings: normal, casual, delicate, and hand wash. (Isn't 'delicate' for things that should be 'hand washed' - and how would 'normal' differ from 'casual', exactly? It was probably designed by the same guy who started calling a small coffee at Starbucks 'tall'...)

I'll do a 'real' post soon. (And by 'real' I mean something that may or may not be interesting to the reader, but at least won't put me to sleep at the keyboard while I'm writing it.)

P.s. This is not to imply that I've been too bored to write. In fact, it's partly to do with not having a ton of time to write, and -for the long weekend, at least - not having internet.

P.p.s. Ellen, you could help me out here. Haven't seen a post from you in awhile... :-)

Maine, August 2010