Would-be Supermom's Procrastination Central

"What about socialization?"

2011-12-12T08:28:00.000-08:00

I saw this post on a list I'm on, and liked it so much that I wanted to put it here. Socialization remains the number 1 thing people ask me about when they learn that we homeschool. But it's really the last thing we ever worry about. In fact there are so very many opportunities for socializing and socialization that the challenge is really not to overextend ourselves. Anyway, read on for an amusing take on the issue.

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What about socialization? (from another angle)

Two women meet at a playground, where their children are swinging and playing ball. The women are sitting on a bench watching. Eventually, they begin to talk.

W1: Hi. My name is Maggie. My kids are the three in red shirts.

W2: (Smiles) I'm Terri. Mine are in the pink and yellow shirts. Do you come here a lot?

W1: Usually two or three times a week, after we go to the library.

W2: Wow. Where do you find the time?

W1: We home school, so we do it during the day most of the time.

W2: Some of my neighbors home school, but I send my kids to public school.

W1: How do you do it?

W2: It's not easy. I go to all the PTO meetings and work with the kids every day after school and stay real involved.

W1: But what about socialization? Aren't you worried about them being cooped up all day with kids their own ages, never getting the opportunity for natural relationships?

W2: Well, yes. But I work hard to balance that. They have some friends who're home schooled, and we visit their grandparents almost every month.

W1: Sounds like you're a very dedicated mom. But don't you worry about all the opportunities they're missing out on? I mean they're so isolated from real life -- how will they know what the world is like -- what people do to make a living -- how to get along with all different kinds of people?

W2: Oh, we discussed that at PTO, and we started a fund to bring real people into the classrooms. Last month, we had a policeman and a doctor come in to talk to every class. And next month, we're having a woman from Japan and a man from Kenya come to speak.

W1: Oh, we met a man from Japan in the grocery store the other week, and he got to talking about his childhood in Tokyo. My kids were absolutely fascinated. We invited him to dinner and got to meet his wife and their three children.

W2: That's nice. Hmm. Maybe we should plan some Japanese food for the lunchroom on Multicultural Day.

W1: Maybe your Japanese guest could eat with the children.

W2: Oh, no. She's on a very tight schedule. She has two other schools to visit that day. It's a system-wide thing we're doing.

W1: Oh, I'm sorry. Well, maybe you'll meet someone interesting in the grocery store sometime and you'll end up having them over for dinner.

W2: I don't think so. I never talk to people in the store -- certainly not people who might not even speak my language. What if that Japanese man hadn't spoken English?

W1: To tell you the truth, I never had time to think about it. Before I even saw him, my six-year-old had asked him what he was going to do with all the oranges he was buying.

W2: Your child talks to strangers?

W1: I was right there with him. He knows that as long as he's with me, he can talk to anyone he wishes.

W2: But you're developing dangerous habits in him. My children never talk to strangers.

W1: Not even when they're with you?

W2: They're never with me, except at home after school. So you see why it's so important for them to understand that talking to strangers is a big no-no.

W1: Yes, I do. But if they were with you, they could get to meet interesting people and still be safe. They'd get a taste of the real world, in real settings. They'd also get a real feel for how to tell
when a situation is dangerous or suspicious.

W2: They'll get that in the third and fifth grades in their health courses.

W1: Well, I can tell you're a very caring mom. Let me give you my number--if you ever want to talk, give me call. It was good to meet you.

--Author unknown

The Band

2011-11-25T08:50:00.000-08:00

There's lots of band-related news. As I mentioned, our album "Hidin' Out with the Blues" is out on iTunes. And, we have a new band website: http://voodoohighwayband.com We are particularly excited about the "What People Are Saying" tab... And, in honor of Black Friday, we've posted our song "Walmart Killed Main Street" to YouTube. Shop local, if you still can!

Hellooooo....

2011-11-11T11:24:00.000-08:00

It's been a ridiculously long time since I've written anything here, and of course there's so much I'd like to write about. I'm mostly sorry that I haven't been keeping up with writing about Ben, because I have also not written a word in his baby book in over a year. Oh well; at least there are plenty of pictures...and Facebook updates! Maybe I'll print them out one day and tuck them into his mostly blank baby book.

I also have lots to report about the band (like, that our CD is out on iTunes!), but that will have to wait. I want to write a birthday letter to Ben like I've always done for George, though it will have to be for his "half-birthday" since he just turned 1 1/2. And yes, I'm even late on that. As I said, Oh well. Anyway... here goes.

Dear Ben,

Happy, happy eighteen months! And happy they have been indeed. In fact, you are such a happy boy that friends routinely tell us that you're the happiest baby they've ever seen.

Ok, so, you're not really a baby anymore, since you've been walking for so long that we barely remember when you didn't, but I'm afraid it is going to take a good long while for you to lose your moniker of Baby Ben. It just suits you so well!

I'm sorry I haven't been chronicling your extraordinary babyhood/toddlerhood very well. I've really been insanely busy with work and, well, with you! When I'm *not* working, I'm spending the time with you (and the other kids, of course), and while I've gotten pretty good at multi-tasking, I haven't yet figured out how to give you my full attention and blog or write in your baby book at the same time. The real kids in front of me win out over the chronicling... (Right now, btw, you are napping, and I should be doing the same, or grading papers... but I have really, really been wanting to write this!)

A few things about you. Though we call you Baby Ben, no one can convince you that you're not one of the big kids. You always want to be right there, in the middle of the action, with everyone. My favorite example was over the summer. We were all in the pool and we were playing beach-ball-tag, where we have about 10 or more beach balls of various sizes that we throw at each other. (There's no "it"--it's more of a free-for-all.) Anyway, Brad and I had George cornered and were pelting him at very close range (not hard enough to hurt, mind you! But it was pretty rambunctious). You were nearby, wearing your arm floaties (which you took to like a pro from the get-go), playing on the steps. When you saw us laughing and throwing the balls at George, you climbed out of the pool, walked over to the corner where we were, and lowered yourself into the pool in between George and the side, right where we were throwing all of the balls. How pleased with yourself you were! I wouldn't have even thought that there would be room for you in there, and also, I don't think you had ever lowered yourself into the pool like that before. But, like I said, no one was going to convince you that you were just a baby and shouldn't be right smack in the middle of all the rowdy fun we were having!

Let me list at least a few things that I love about you right now (since that's what I usually do in these birthday letters).... I love how happy you are when you wake up, and how usually you look at me and say in this really sleepy and loving and sort of satisfied voice, "Mama." And then you look over at your daddy and say "Bob-Bob" with the same sleepy, loving tone. (You still don't call him Dad!) You used to look for the cats next, and say one or the other of their names, but you have added a new intermediate step. You scooch or crawl over to Bob and kneel over him and say right up in his face, "Rock and roll!" Usually with great insistence and enthusiasm. Yesterday morning when you awoke, you opened your eyes, smiled at me, and said "Mama... Mommy, Bobby, Baby, rock and roll!" As you can imagine, we're quite pleased with this development! (Especially given your early obsession with sh!t-kickin' country music :-)

The next thing you do, after you wake up and do your sweet little roll call, is to get up and head into the bathroom. And if we've forgotten to close the door to the toilet, you go right in and start plunging the toilet. For some reason, this is irresistible fun for you. This morning you went downstairs and I was lagging behind a bit; when you heard me coming down the stairs I could hear you running across the kitchen. When I got down there, there was no sign of you, but when I peeked into the bathroom off of the kitchen, I saw that you had left your calling card--the plunger in the toilet. When I turned around to look for you again, I saw that you had run around the corner into the doorway to the stairs leading down to the basement; you were poking your head around the doorway looking at me with this impossibly adorable, slightly guilty, trying-to-be-nonchalant look on your face, as if to say "What? What's the problem? I haven't been plunging the toilet or anything. I've been right here, by the basement stairs."

Anyway... Next, you generally say "boom-boom-boom", which means you want to go down to the basement to our jam space and start playing the drums. When we get down there, you insist on having us turn on all the colored lights, and then you ask to be set up on the drum throne so you can play. You can't reach the pedals, of course, but you don't let that stop you--you instruct us when it's time to hit them.

Another little story from the time before you had discovered toilet plunging... this was just a couple of days after we had gotten the drum kit, which was about two months ago now, I guess. So you were about 16 months old. We had a routine of going for a walk every morning when you woke up (though now the weather is getting a little chilly, so we usually go later in the day, if at all). You went down the stairs ahead of me, while I was still putting my shoes on (by the way, you've been an extremely adept stair-climber and -descender for months, which is a good thing, since our house is full of so many stairs!). When I got down to the kitchen, I didn't see you, but I figured you must be just hiding around the corner--you never went very far. So I said something like "Ok, Ben, I'm ready; let's Go!" Which *always* made you come running. (You LOVE to "Go!" and are always up for it, wherever we are going.) But, nothing. So I said it again a couple of times, and added that it was time to go for our walk (which also always got you excited), and that I had num-nums for you (again, any one of these things NEVER failed to make you come running). I even went so far as to open and close the door, which up to that point would have made you come running, and might have even made you cry out of fear that someone was going somewhere fun without you. But still, nothing. So I ventured over to the doorway to the basement stairs, fully expecting to see you hiding right there and smiling at me, but no. I went down the stairs and rounded the corner and still didn't see you, but at that point I heard the drums.... I kept going on until I reach the jam space, and there you were--with that same little "What? Who, me?" look on your face--holding the drum sticks but now standing in front of the kit, as you had obviously heard me coming and thought I'd be disapproving. I laughed and smiled and told you to go ahead and play, and you ran right back around to the other side and started banging away. Holding the sticks the right way and hitting the drums pretty much the right way! Unbelievably adorable and awesome. I did actually capture some of it on video, on my phone, which you will have probably seen by the time you are old enough to read this....

So, anyway, we usually have a little drumming session, and then we have a little breakfast and go for a walk if it's warm or we go up to the man cave which we have sort of Ben-proofed, although that is a constant work-in-progress, since you're constantly growing and also thinking up new ways to reach things... (Like pulling big cushions off of chairs, or moving chairs around....)

Another really sweet memory of you from very early in the summer... We were all at the back of the yard, putting together the trampoline that Maga and Grandma Jane had gotten us for Christmas. You were over closer to the house, but then decided to come see what we were doing. It's a pretty long walk for a little guy (you weren't much over a year old at that point), but you were undaunted. About halfway across, you spotted Coco, curled up (or stretched out--I can't quite recall) next to the edge of the fence around the pool. You deviated slightly from your path so that you would go right by him and when you got to him you bent down and "kissed" him right on his fluffy body. I put "kiss" in quotation marks because your kisses at that point were more like just putting your mouth up to the designated kiss-recipient. Anyway, then you proceeded on your way across the rest of the yard to us. Soooo sweet.

You love the kitties and, thank goodness, they are very tolerant and patient with you! I mean you really adore them, and you like to show your love by yes, kissing them, and sometimes petting them gently, but also by grabbing and pulling their tails/paws/a handful of fur.... You used to like to lie down right on top of them! Or crawl right over them when you were in your crawling phase. You don't do that so much anymore, but you're still big into the grabbing and pulling thing. They are unbelievably patient. Except for Lucy, who hisses at you from time to time, which you hate. Sometimes you hiss back at her, which is so funny and sad--sad because you just don't understand why she would behave that way when all you want to do is love her!

You love your siblings and light up when you see them. You have been great at saying Lindsey's name from very early on (it was one of your first words, and you say it quite clearly), but you have nicknames for your brothers. George is A-duh and Brad is Ung, which evolved from what was at first Ugh. As I said, you adore them, and you love repeating their names over and over whenever you see them or whenever you even hear us talking about them.

You continue to have an amazing, special relationship with your daddy, who takes care of you every day. (I take care of you every day, too! But you two really do spend a lot of time together.) You still love napping on him, and your latest thing is to rough-house with him, which he clearly loves every bit as much as you do, if not more! You also love watching football with him (you call out "football!" any time you get even a glimpse of a game), and you two call your rough-housing "tackling".

Another truly extraordinary thing about you that your daddy and I really love is that you are very fond of the concept "back"--not just as in people coming back, but as in putting things back! You love to put pretty much anything back, and most of the time we don't even have to prompt you. You'll pick something up, walk around with it, show it to us, and then, in your adorable little voice, with great pride and decisiveness, you'll say "Back!" as you put it back. I've never seen anything like it. You obviously got this trait from your dad. We're hoping it might rub off on your older siblings and, ahem, your mom.

You and swimming.... I've already talked a little about it, but you really took to the water this summer like a little fish. From pretty early on in the summer you loved your arm floaties, and were swimming around the entire pool like a pro with them. You were so tiny! To see your little head floating above water as your arms and legs propelled you all over... it was really something to see. But as much as you loved the freedom the arm floaties afforded you, you eventually concluded that they were for babies, as no one else was wearing them, and you took them off and actually started swimming a little bit on your own toward the end of the summer. We're pretty sure you'll keep it up over the winter in the hot tub, though you're now tall enough to stand in it, so you're not swimming quite as much these days!

And also filed under the category of I'm-not-a-baby is the way you are bound and determined to go down the stairs the way we all do. At first, you would crawl, and it was so cute--you'd get down in the crawling position at the top of the man cave stairs, and then you'd back up toward the top step, except sometimes you'd miscalculate and end up with one leg on the wrong side of the railing, so you'd have to crawl forward and then come around again for another pass. Really, it was unbelievably adorable. And kind of amazing that such a little guy could handle the stairs so well! But it's not enough for you. You will now wait at the top of the stairs for us to come hold your hand so you can go down the grown-up way. Or you'll try to reach up and grab the railing, which is just a bit out of reach, but surely won't be for long....

You LOVE the Itsy-Bitsy spider song and for months have been putting your thumbs together trying to decipher how to do the spider-motion. You also love Patty-Cake and you especially associate it with Grandma Jane, with whom you also have a very special and close relationship. And you've also developed a great bond with Maga, despite the fact that she lives across the country.... She adores you and can't ever stay away for too terribly long!

You love your Duplo Legos and are even learning some of the letters on them (we got you the alphabet ones). And you're working on your colors as well. One of the few books that you haven't torn apart is Spot's Colors and you love to read that with us. I can't wait until you get over your book-destroying-thing and we can bring out more books to read with you!

Oh yeah, that reminds me... I do have one book that I keep in the car and read to you either before or after our walk (yes, we drive to the park to take our walks most of the time!). It's Llama, Llama, Red Pajama. You LOVE it and never seem to tire of having me read it to you. I keep it in the car because when you're there you're strapped in and you can't destroy it!

You also LOVE spoons. You love to hold them and play with them, but you haven't quite worked out the details of feeding yourself with them just yet. Oh yes, and you also love the piano, which unfortunately no one besides you ever really plays. Basically, you are just crazy about music. The other day George practiced his recorder in front of you (which he doesn't usually do) and you ran right up to him and put your face up next to his, getting as close as you possibly could so that you could see exactly what it was that he was doing. You were utterly enthralled. I can't wait until you're old enough to take up an instrument in earnest. I have a feeling it won't be all that long.

But I take it back; I can wait! I love you so much, just as you are. I am savoring pretty much every moment of your babyhood/toddlerhood. Your face... your eyes... your smile... your walk/run... your hugs and kisses... your voice... You bring me boundless joy, each and every day. So much love and happiness, and all of it so unexpected at this point in my life! Thanks for being you, Ben. I love you.

Love,

Mom

Happy Birthday to my writer

2011-03-21T22:43:00.000-07:00

11 years ago tonight I was in the hospital, waiting for George to be born...

I'm going to write my annual list of "Things I love about George right now," but first a word about his latest writing project, which was just published online here. It's called "Commander Cat" and it's about a kid who finds a secret portal to an online gaming world, enters it, and ends up becoming their hero. He actually came up with the story when he was in kindergarten, on the playground--at recess he used to assign roles to a bunch of other kids and they would act out various parts of the story. He finally wrote it all out (changing it a fair amount in the process) for an online creative writing workshop he just finished through Northwestern's CTD.

***

Well, the way life goes these days, I started this post, and now a few weeks have gone by and I haven't finished it. So now it's after George's birthday, but I'm still going to write my list/letter.

Dear George,

You are now eleven and are quite the young man. You have always been wise beyond your years, but you have really matured by leaps and bounds since becoming a big brother. I catch myself even more often than I used to forgetting that you're a kid! Which in some ways you don't mind, because you hate it when adults patronize kids by having reduced expectations of them.

Despite all the maturing, of course, you're still the same wonderful George you've always been.... I continue to be very much in awe of your creativity! It flows through you. I love acting as your scribe when it's flowing too fast for you to keep up with yourself. I sit with my laptop on the leather couch up in the man cave while you pace back and forth, and around the pool table, dictating to me. When you pause, I used to think something like "Oh no, he's out of ideas for what's going to happen next," but it makes me laugh to remember that now because you are *never* out of ideas. It is great fun, and it feels like a great privilege, to witness your creative process in action.

But it's not just all of your amazing ideas that have me in awe. It's your tremendous facility, ability, in expressing them. You have such flair. You can turn a phrase like nobody's business. You are very aware of the conventions and devices of the various genres that you write in, and employ them with ease--and talk about them critically when questioned about them. At 10 (now 11), you are one of the best writers I know. (I mean one of the best writers I know personally :-)

I love that I can talk to you about just about anything.

I love that you took a CTD course called "Computer Gaming Academy," where you learned how to design computer games using a certain program, and you haven't stopped designing games ever since, and have even helped several of your friends (and your cousin, I think) design some games.

I love being able to homeschool you, and I love exploring different models of learning/schooling with you. I love that I can discuss those models with you as we explore them! That you're interested in that sort of thing. And I love that because you are homeschooled (increasingly unschooled), you have plenty of time for all of your creative endeavors. I hope I'm doing right by you. Sometimes homeschooling feels like a huge responsibility. I rarely wonder if public school would be a better option for you, but I do sometimes wonder if I'm approaching homeschooling in the best way possible for you. I'm definitely making it up as I go along! In any case, I do love being on that journey with you.

I love watching "Good Luck, Charlie" with you, and laughing and laughing.

I love what a sophisticated consumer of popular culture you are. You said to me one morning recently, "Have you ever noticed how kids' cereal commercials are all the same?" and then you proceeded to give me a critique/analysis of the common elements of about 5 different cereal commercials. You did the same about family sitcoms, pointing out various stock characters that always seem to be in play. It's funny because this kind of literary/cultural analysis is in some sense what I do for a living, but I think it comes easier to you than it does to me!

You know that most of all I love your kindness. And your incredible consideration for other people's feelings in all kinds of circumstances.

I love how sweet you are with your baby brother. Like how when Bob and I are playing tennis, you'll talk to Ben and play with him in the car until he's bored and then you'll put him in his stroller and walk him around the park. I love how you make him laugh.

I love your exuberance toward the band, and my songs, and my singing. (You are really great for my self-confidence!) I love it when you walk around the house singing--one minute it will be a song Bob and I have written, and the next it will be something from your choir, and the next it might be a song you're currently learning on recorder. So it's not just that I love how supportive you are of my music, I also love your involvement with and appreciation of all kinds of music.

I love how unflinching you are in the face of peer pressure. You are your own person. You do not live your life wondering, worrying, what other people think. It's not that you don't care what others think. But you're not going to let that stop you from doing or liking something. And it's another reason why I'm glad I'm able to homeschool you--that you don't have to deal with all of that pressure to conform all day long. I know from when you were in public school that the pressure to conform (much of which came from your teacher!) didn't ever really make you conform, but it did cause a lot of friction and unpleasantness in your day. And I love how you are almost sort of baffled when people you know are affected by peer pressure.

I just took another break in writing this post because you came up to the man cave, where I've been, and we talked and talked for like an hour... about church(es), about peer pressure, about school, homeschooling, and unschooling, about what we're going to do this afternoon to get out of the house, besides chess club (I'm off from teaching this week, and Bob's going to be cleaning the house so we want to get out of his way!).... I love our conversations, and I know you do, too (I know 'cuz you just told me). And I love that you love the man cave. That might sound silly or weird but I do. You have a sort of relationship to this space and I think it's really cool. You love to come up here in the morning before anyone else is up, especially if it's raining--sometimes you'll bring your pillow and blanket and a book (ok, it's never just one book--it's always a whole stack), and you'll snuggle up under your blanket on the couch and listen to the rain on the roof while you read.... I love it.

I guess it's time to get on with my/our day, so I'll wrap this up. But happy birthday, George. It's a privilege and a pleasure being your mom. I can't wait to see what fun things this next year will bring, what great stories you'll write, what new passions will develop (speaking of which, I feel this letter would be incomplete without a mention of Pokemon and Lego Ninjago, two of your current passions!).... Thanks for being you. I love you.

Love,
Mom

Baby Ben Update

2011-03-06T20:07:00.000-08:00

Life has been way too crazy to find time for blogging... and also too crazy to keep up with the baby book I had so diligently been filling out every month for Ben. But I have a few spare minutes (not really, but...), so I thought I'd jot down what Baby Ben has been up to the last few days.

He continues, of course, to be a total joy! Pretty much the happiest, smiley-est little guy you ever did see.

He had been working so much on various physical developments (crawling, standing, cruising...) that he hadn't said any new words in quite a while. But now he's on a verbal learning streak again. New additions to his vocabulary include uh-oh, which sounds more like "uh-uh", uttered whenever something falls or gets knocked over (usually by him, and usually on purpose); all gone, which sounds more like "ah-guh!"; all done, which, you guessed it, sounds like "ah-duh"; up, pronounced very clearly and decipherably; and arms up, which sounds like "ah-up" or "ah-uh", and is always accompanied by his putting his arms up in the air. While all of these utterances are completely adorable and sweet, "up" has to be my favorite. He finds occasion to say it all the time. For example, he'll sit up in bed right when he first wakes up, with his eyes still half-closed, he'll bust out a definitive, authoritative "up!" Or if we're up in the man cave, he'll proudly proclaim "up" when he sees Bob coming up the stairs. Or when he's in one of his exersaucers or a high chair and wants to get out. Or when he sees someone stand up. Or when he pulls himself up. What a great early word! So multi-purpose, and so positive....

On the flip side, he has figured out what "no" is and when you say it to him he'll give you the most serious little look, almost a stern look, and start shaking his head. This is when he's doing something he really wants to keep doing and you're telling him not to. If he doesn't mind being told no or if he hears us saying no to each other or if we read it in a book, he gets the most adorable little smile on his face and then shakes his head. If you ask him a question, any question, he'll usually smile and shake his head.

Actually, that's not quite true. If you ask him, when he's on the bed, if he wants to go up to the man cave, he'll smile and clap. If you ask him if he wants some num-nums he'll perk right up and start looking around for where you're hiding the goods. And if you ask him if he wants to go somewhere with you and he does, he'll book right on over to you as fast as he can and put his arms up, waiting for you to pick him up. He's definitely a baby on the go, and would rather not be left behind!

More physical feats of late... in addition to the head-shaking and the clapping, and the crawling, standing, and cruising, he's become quite the acrobat. The other day he did a full flip off the side of the bed, fortunately landing in the laundry basket. With a pillow on top of himself (he was trying to climb over the pillow, which was on the side of the bed, and which flipped right along with him). He has also figured out the best way to get down off of something (couch, chair, bed) is to dive, head first. He does it slowly, and puts his arms out, but he does often land on his head. He's such a tough little guy, though. He very rarely cries.

Laurie, one of his godmothers, noticed what a little tough guy he is the other day when he closed his baby laptop right on his thumb. She said he pulled the thumb out, looked at it for a second, then sort of brushed it off on his leg and continued playing.

I was similarly impressed when he fell off the bed the other day (not his careful sliding that he does on purpose) and landed on his head, with a thud, on the wood floor. (Where was his mother?! I was sitting right next to him but had taken my eye off of him for a second. It does not take long for a baby to fall off the side of a bed!). Anyway, he didn't so much as whimper. He said something sort of like "eh!" and then got up into a crawling position, and crawled right out the bedroom door, obviously quite pleased with himself for breaking out of the prison of the bed, and eager to explore. He headed out into the hallway (with mom tailing him very, very closely) and paused as if trying to decide which way to go. He opted for the route up to the man cave, crawling quite quickly across the floor and over to the stairs. Previously, he had only ever mounted one or two of them, but I guess he was feeling emboldened by his new-found freedom, and he climbed up every last stair until he got up to Dada at the top.

Speaking of Dada, though he remains utterly attached to Bob, he still doesn't really say Dada so much! It's gotten to be almost a running joke now and in fact we sometimes wonder if Ben is holding out on purpose because he thinks it's funny or something. Until recently, if you'd say "Dada" to Ben, he'd look at you like he was thinking about it and then he'd reply "MA-MA". But now he has a new response: "Bah-Bob!" It sort of sounds like a cross between "Bob" and the word for daddy in Italian ("Babbo"), both of which he's heard Bob called, but honestly, we all call Bob "Dada" wayyyy more than we call him anything else, so it's kind of funny that for whatever reason Ben's just not saying it. The funny thing about it is both how dada is supposed to be one of the easiest words to say, and also how attached he is to his dada. I mean, he was saying mama by about 3 months, and Lindsey and George soon thereafter, and he even said Linda (quite discernibly) when we went to visit my family in CA and he took a strong, instant liking to his Aunt Linda.

He also remains very attached to his big sissy. The other night when it was time for Lindsey to go to bed, and Ben saw that she was leaving the room, he protested so insistently and loudly that we just had to let her stay up an extra hour to hang out with him! He'll be very happy this summer when she's back with us every day.

He continues to love music, and fortunately he has expanded his tastes from $&!#-kickin' country to various other genres. The other day I had Mardi Gras music on Music Choice on the TV. He cruised across the front of the TV stand until he got to the volume button on the sound system. He cranked it all the way to "max volume" (which really is quite loud!), looked back at me, and then proceeded to start dancing!

I have so much more to say, but I'll wrap this up with one of the sweetest things he does, and that is giving out kisses. He doesn't really do the kissing motion with his lips--he just sort of opens his mouth and puts it on your cheek, and then pulls his face back a little and gives you the most adorable little smile, like he knows he's done something sweet. He's done this on occasion for quite some time (mostly to Bob at first), but now he's really doing it often. And he's started dispensing these to the cats, when he can catch them--somewhat to their dismay!

Somehow I'm managing to enjoy all of this quite fully, despite being stressed out/overwhelmed by work much of the time. I'm definitely counting the weeks to the end of the semester....

"Supermom" returns... with a whole lotta help

2011-01-24T17:49:00.000-08:00

Today was my first day back at work after my maternity leave. Ok, so technically it was a leave from teaching, not from all work--I've continued to run the journal I edit, preparing one volume to go to press and working hard on soliciting articles (and referees for each article) for the next one, and transitioning to a new press, etc. etc. I've been working pretty intensely on it... but mostly from home, so it's really a different kind of thing. Today was my first day back working outside the home. And it went remarkably well--thanks largely to Bob, whose role as Mr. Mom started today in earnest. Or perhaps I should say started a new phase, because he's been taking care of Ben quite a bit ever since Ben was born. Anyway...

I teach in the late afternoon. As I was leaving, Baby Ben was curled up asleep next to his daddy, but when I came into the room to get my backpack he woke up, of course. Oops. Note to self: leave backpack by the door! But it was fine--Bob started reading him Blue Hat, Green Hat, which Ben loves, and so I left the house to the sounds of massive giggling. Just about my favorite sound in the universe. It was a perfect send-off, really!

Did I mention that it was the Coldest First Day Ever? In fact, I had to deal with two weather-related crises before going into work (frozen pipes, etc.). Not exactly how I'd envisioned my first day back, but I did get everything resolved in time, so it worked out ok. But anyway, walking from the car to my office, I was really glad for my birthday present from Bob--a very warm winter coat. And last year's Christmas present from him--toasty warm gloves.

My class went really well... I may have overwhelmed them a bit with the descriptions of all the work they're going to be doing, but then I lightened the mood a bit with a chunk of a Monty Python movie (which, believe it or not, *was* relevant to the material!)

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, after reading time, Ben and Bob went down to the exercise area in the basement. Bob worked out and Ben did, too, in his Exersaucer. After the workout, Ben was hungry! Bob fed him two kinds of baby food, part of a banana, some watered down apple juice, and some steak (no, you don't really need teeth to eat steak, it turns out). By the way, Ben goes crazy for steak. Just try eating it in front of him without giving him any. Actually, don't. It's not pretty.

After mealtime, they went up to the man cave, where Ben played with his toys on the floor for a little while, and then sacked out hard on top of Dad.

When I came home he was still asleep, so I whipped up dinner, with George keeping me company, telling me all about his afternoon....

After dinner, I hung out with Ben while Bob cleaned up from dinner, then it was my turn to have Ben sack out on top of me. George put himself to bed, while Bob sat next to me and acquiesced to watching The Bachelor. A wonderfully relaxing end to a really good day.

How did it feel to be back? Honestly, it felt great. It felt great because as much as I love staying at home with my family, I also love my job. And I felt so very good knowing that Bob was at home holding down the fort. There's no way I would have felt that great if I'd had to leave Ben with a sitter or in daycare. Yes, we're making some financial sacrifices to make this work, but we can swing it, and it's beyond worth it to us.

I've been a single working mom for so long... and then even after Bob and I got married, Bob was away for long hours (two hours of commuting every day), and was exhausted much of the time when he was home.... I can hardly express how different, and how amazing, it feels to have the support of a stay-at-home spouse. Of course, a crucial part of that is that Bob loves it, too. It wouldn't work if he weren't happy with the arrangement. But I think he loves it even more than I do. Retired at 45? Why not?! Good thing I love my job as much as I do, or I'd be jealous :-)

To Grade, or Not to Grade?

2010-12-22T05:54:00.000-08:00

I'm late turning in my first quarterly report for George (shhhh! Don't tell the authorities--they seem not to have noticed yet). But it's not because I don't have it done. I actually finished it early, over a month ago. It's because I'm wrestling with the question of grades.

I'm not required by NYS to assign grades. I could just say he "passes" everything. Or even that he's "excellent" at everything--though even that brings up a similar set of questions.

Basically, if I give him grades, my question boils down to this: do I base them on his effort, his achievement relative to other 5th graders, or his achievement relative to what I think he's capable of?

There are arguments that could be made for and against each of the above options. Let's take effort. The effort he puts into things. He works hard at reading and writing (though actually, none of it feels like work to him, because it's his passion! But he spends an abundance of time and energy on these things), so based on that, it would be an easy call to give him an A. Ok, maybe this is a bad example--if we're going to hand out grades, there's no way he deserves anything other than an A in Language Arts. But you get my point. Should grades be assigned based on effort? Part of me likes the idea, and part of me thinks it's kind of, well, lame. Because you could try really hard at something and still not be good at it... is that going to earn you the blue ribbon? And of course you can try not very hard at all at something and still be quite good at it. So I think perhaps "achievement" is a better thing for grades to measure.

But if we are going to measure achievement, what do we base that on? If it's based on what he is achieving relative to other 5th graders, then I'd give him an A in everything, because he's ahead of grade level in everything. Does that render the grades meaningless? Maybe. Yet, isn't that in some sense what the grades are intended to measure in the first place? How well any given kid is doing based on what our expectations are for the given level?

Or do we measure achievement based on what I feel he could possibly, potentially achieve? What a slippery slope that is, however. Are there areas I feel he could be achieving more in? Perhaps. I mean, one could pretty much always do better in anything, at least potentially. So, I'm not sure that's such a helpful road to travel.

All of these things might point to not giving him any grades at all. On some level, that appeals to me. His learning is very much its own reward, and I think he would agree with that. Several years into this homeschooling thing, we've managed to find, in pretty much every area, curricula/approaches/work that are a great fit for him. He's passionate about learning, has been doing plenty of it, and seems to be very much enjoying it all.

On the other hand, I'm at least mildly concerned about building a transcript or record of some sort for him for his future endeavors. I know he's only 10. And probably I could always go back and fill in grades if he suddenly needed them for something.

Or maybe I'm still on some level attached to the idea of grades (having loved the feeling of getting good grades myself back in the day). Maybe the notion of George having straight As just makes me feel good. Or maybe I feel it somehow legitimizes what we're doing here. I know that probably sounds sort of dumb, but if I'm being honest, I think somewhere inside of me I do just like the idea of grades (just as well, since they're a big part of my job and all!!!!). I don't know.

Then there are the related issues of motivation and self-esteem. Take math. He's working ahead of grade level on it. But he's not as far ahead in math as he is in reading/writing, nor does he devote the time or energy to it that he devotes to words. So does he deserve a lower grade in it? Maybe. But I know he's learning the material, and I'd be willing to bet good money that what he's doing would earn him a solid A in school. But should I give him a slightly lower grade anyway, to inspire him to work harder at it? I could try that. But I'm afraid that might backfire. Despite his successes in math (including some very high scores on standardized tests), because it doesn't come as easily to him as other subjects have, he's convinced that he's "terrible" at it. I would hate to reinforce this view in any way, which a lower grade would likely do.

But, still on the self-esteem question, is giving him As for being ahead of grade-level simply rewarding him for being smart? I read a very convincing article awhile back about the importance of praising kids for their effort (something over which they have control) rather than for being intelligent (something they were born with and over which they have little control). Praising them for their hard work empowers them, while praising them for being smart makes their self-image too tied to the idea of being so, and makes them afraid to try new things that they might not be so good at and that might "reveal" that they aren't as smart as everyone thinks. (I wrote more about this in the past, here.) But maybe that's not so relevant. He is, after all, doing the above-grade-level work. I wouldn't be rewarding him simply for being *capable* of doing above-grade-level work.

I don't know. Probably I'm over-thinking this. Besides, I need to get on with my holiday preparations. I guess I'll give it another day or two, and then just decide. In the meantime, comments and suggestions are welcome!

Baby Ben, Wordsmith

2010-11-02T05:31:00.000-07:00

Wow, do I love being Baby Ben's mom! It is a delight. I keep wanting each stage to last, thinking it's the very best one, but then when the next one comes I like it even better! Actually, I seem to remember that happening when George was a baby, too....

The newborn phase was just extraordinary--as I've mentioned, I was better able to enjoy it the second time around for a whole slew of reasons, including that I was less overwhelmed and knew what I was doing this time. But as amazing as that was, it keeps getting better :-)

Now he's six months, and is going to town with language, which is particularly fun. He was a super-early talker, saying "Mama" and sometimes "Mom" at 3 1/2 months, though he only ever says it when he's hungry. But it's been quite consistent. The first time he said it, he was with Lindsey in the living room and I was in the kitchen. He said it very loudly and very clearly. It stopped both Lindsey and me in our tracks! Anyway, it's very handy, because as I said, he only says it when he's hungry, so that narrows it right down for us. Although I should add that one time in the car recently he was fussing for "Mama" and we tried popping in one of his country music CDs (his new favorite is the soundtrack for "O Brother, Where Art Thou"). He stopped fussing *immediately*. I mean, like, within the first note or two. So we've decided that "Mama" means not only "I'm ready for some milk" but also "Please crank up the country music."

We thought for sure, given how very much he adores Bob, that his next word would be "Dada" or "Dad", and it *sort* of was, but he really hasn't said it with any consistency. (He has said it maybe 5 times or so.) We theorize that this is because Bob is pretty much always by his side, so he has very little reason to have to call out to him to get his attention! In any case, he does have very effective ways of getting Bob's attention from nearby: he will bat his arms at Bob until Bob turns to him, and then he'll give Bob what we call "The Look". It's a look that says "Dad, I want to snuggle into your chest, and I want this more than anything in the whole world, so please don't even try to resist; just pick me up right now 'cuz who are we kidding--we both know you're going to." It's equal parts love, longing, and the knowledge that the longing is about to be satisfied. He has done this combination of inching himself over to Bob, batting him, and giving him The Look pretty much since the day we brought him home from the hospital.

I guess his next word was "hi", which he started saying last month. He says it when he's trying to get our attention, like when he wakes up next to me and I'm still sleeping, or if I'm on my laptop and he's ready for me to turn my attention to him. The utterance of "hi" is often accompanied by one of his trademark smiles (more about those in a minute). One particularly funny time when he said it was at Campfire, when one of the homeschool moms was playing peek-a-boo with him in his stroller when I had gone out of the room for a second to take a phone call. When I came back in, she said, "I could swear he just said hi to me!!" Yep!

His next word was "baby", though he doesn't say it with a lot of consistency yet, either. He does this thing, though, when I'm saying a word to him, where he looks so intently at my mouth, and you can almost see the wheels turning as he's taking it all in, and then he starts moving his mouth in imitation, first without vocalizing, just making the motion with his mouth and then with his tongue, and then he'll sort of whisper it, and then he'll finally vocalize. Then he'll keep practicing just making the motion with his mouth and doing an almost silent whisper. It's pretty cool to watch! To see the learning in action like that. Probably my favorite ever moments as a teacher. Anyway, as I said, he doesn't say it with much consistency and it's mostly repeating after us when we say it to him. Though one morning he woke us up by practicing: "Ba-ba-ba-ba-Baby! Ba-ba-ba-ba-Baby!" So now we say that all the time, to him, and about him to each other ("It's a ba-ba-ba-ba-baby!"). Yeah, we're total goners.

Next was "book", which actually comes out as "boo" (not "boo" like what a ghost says. "Boo" like the word "book" without the "k" at the end). It's mostly in response to when we say it to him, repeating it back to us (and oftentimes in that adorable little barely audible whisper), so I'm not sure it really counts yet. He definitely knows what it means, though--boy does he jerk to attention if you ask him if he wants to read a book! He loves, loves, loves book time, which we have every morning (and sometimes again throughout the day, but the morning one is our routine). His favorite books are Pat the Bunny, which he has particularly loved since he was 3 months old; Moo, Baa, La La La (awesome Sanrda Boynton book about the animal sounds); Blue Hat, Green Hat (another Sandra Boynton book that makes him laugh--he especially loves the last page where the dressed-up turkey is diving off the high-dive into the pool; he seems to get that this is funny); Daddy Loves Me (very sweet book about daddies and babies that I gave Bob for Christmas last year, when Baby Ben was still Ace!); and There's a Wocket in my Pocket, by Dr. Seuss (which was one of George's favorites as a baby, which makes it a little extra sweet for me... actually, most of these were George's favorites!). We also usually read Curious George 1 to 10 and Back Again, and he has a few more "touch-and-feel" books that he really enjoys (especially one from his Aunt Becky and another one from his Grandma Jane).

His next word was "Lindsey"--ok, a version thereof, sounding more like "Li". First, let me reiterate how much this boy loves his big sissy. He truly adores her. So, anyway, last month we got him to repeat "Li" a few times. But on Halloween night when we were out trick-or-treating, he started saying, very boldly and loudly, "Li-li-li-li-li!" in a clear attempt to get Lindsey's attention. He did this repeatedly, while we were out and also when we were back home (where it evolved into "Li-li"). He was manifestly extremely pleased with himself when it worked, by the way... which it did, every time, because Lindsey is equally enamored of him, and was mighty pleased herself.

And now, just today, he has come up with his version of George. George came in the room this morning and Ben greeted him with a very excited "Guh!" It was interesting, because it was a hard g, which I don't necessarily think of as being so tied to the soft g sound, but it was unmistakable that Ben was using it to designate George. We repeated "George" to him a bunch of times (and he did that thing where he studies your mouth with that look of concentration and then imitates the movement), and he did soften the g a bit, to a more gurgly kind of sound--alternating the hard g and the gurgly g. We also, in addition to having him repeat the sound when we said it, would point to George and ask Ben, "Who's that?" He said "Guh!" every time. George couldn't have been more delighted!

Another really fun thing about the last month or so has been introducing solid foods (his first one was a lemon wedge, and yes, we captured the hilarity on video), but I think I'll save that for another post.

It's also been great fun seeing his physical advances over the last month, with lots of ever-improving sitting up; standing up while being supported from behind (I mean while he leans ever-so-slightly against someone's legs--Lindsey first figured out that he could do this) or while holding on to something in front of him; and getting around on his back like a little inchworm-doing-the-backstroke. His latest thing is he'll inch across the king-sized bed if Bob isn't in it, in what seems a pretty clear attempt to go off and join his dad wherever he is!

But my favorite thing of all about this baby remains how happy he is. Even when he had a bad bout of teething, where he was crying in pain, we'd look at him and tell him we love him and he'd try to smile back at us through his tears. The sweetest thing!

And while we're on the subject, a little more about his smile.... It's a smile so radiant it could light up a medium-sized city during a power outage. Well, it sure lights us up, anyway. I may have mentioned this already, but we call them "smiles from heaven", because they really do seem almost other-worldly. George, when he was watching him on the couch the other day, put it this way: you could be crying, having the worst day of your life, and if you took one look at Baby Ben and his beaming, happy face, you couldn't help but feel happy yourself! George also added that Ben is just without a care in the world. It's true. He is so full of unfettered joy and innocence and exuberance, and it really is contagious when you're around him.

What a little (huge) blessing he is. And as you can no doubt tell, we're really savoring it.

Story Club: A Young Writers' Group

2010-10-09T04:52:00.000-07:00

Inspired by a homeschooling (cyber) friend, and by my desire to support George in his creative writing this year, I decided to start a young writers' group. We had our first meeting Thursday, and so far so good!

The idea is this: once a month the kids will pick a genre out of a hat, and will have all month to write a story in that genre. At the meeting, they'll be encouraged to read the story they've written (plus anything else they've written that month and want to share). Hopefully these readings will generate some discussion and further thought. We'll also play some writing games, especially the one where each person writes down two sentences of a new story, and then passes the paper to the person on their left, who adds two sentences of their own, etc. etc., until everyone ends up with the story they began, which they then finish off, and then read to the group. (Does that game have a name?!)

For the first meeting, I decided we should have a discussion about genres--I wanted the kids to list as many genres as they could think of, and then go down the list together and discuss what each one was (and maybe give some examples), and then decide which 8 suggested ones should make it onto our final list. I wanted the number to be 8, because there will be 8 subsequent meetings, and I want each kid to have a chance to write a story in each genre over the course of the year.

George and I had talked a lot about this in advance, and had come up with several genres ahead of time, in case the discussion stalled out. We needn't have worried. Our little group (5 kids including George, though at least 4 more are planning on coming next time) had plenty of ideas! Most of the time I just acted as scribe and tried to stay out of their way, as they really were off and running.

The 8 genres they settled on are: action/adventure, comedy, tall tales/mythology, plays/graphic novels/poetry, memoir/autobiography, historical fiction, science fiction/fantasy, and horror/mystery. You'll notice there are a lot of compound categories; this is partly because it was hard to narrow it down to 8 and partly because the kids wanted to offer flexibility in some of the categories (for example, several of them were very enthusiastic about including poetry, but one or two of the kids weren't so thrilled about that. Ditto for plays. So they decided those genres should be combined with graphic novels, so no one would have to feel forced to write a poem or a play).

After we had our list, we turned our attention to the game. I've played this game with my intermediate and advanced language students at the university (in Italian, of course), and it's always great fun and often quite hilarious. What I didn't really anticipate was that some of the kids would feel kind of uncomfortable with the direction in which the other kids took their stories! I guess they were feeling quite invested in the stories that they had begun ("I can't *believe* Indiana Jones ended up getting eaten by a shark!"--uttered with great dismay). So if I had it to do over again, I would explain that aspect a little better before starting, and prepare them for the fact that they would have no control over where the story went once they passed it on (but that if they had in mind a particular progression for the story, they could always write that story themselves later). In any case, I explained that at the end, and they were all pretty much ok with it at that point. They seemed to be able to let go and embrace the creativity and whimsy and humor of it. There was definitely much laughter when the end products were read aloud.

Then it was time to pick their genres for the month. We also decided that each month we'd highlight one genre, and the kids would each find a book to read in the highlighted genre to come back and report on/discuss with each other next time. Probably, if we do the story-writing activity again, they'll try to make their composite stories be in that month's highlighted genre.

Overall, it went even better than I had hoped. The kids seemed to have a great time, and seem excited about it. And I'm excited about it, too. It was deeply rewarding watching these kids interact with one another and work together. It was also, quite frankly, highly entertaining, as there are some very sharp wits in the group.

Sitting at the table with the kids, and thinking about it afterwards, I have found myself feeling the way I've been feeling a lot so far this year: kind of surprised and very happy that we really have managed to find or create so much of what I once feared that George would miss out on by being homeschooled. He has plenty of friends. And he is in plenty of group situations with other kids where he gets to work in all different kinds of ways: small- and large-group projects; independent projects that are later shared; more academic enterprises like Story Club, and more recreational ones; groups with very rigid rules and structure (such as Tae Kwon Do), and groups with no stated rules at all (weekly playgroup).... I really don't see that he's missing out on any of the good things. I'm so glad that we've found our way here, and that we can make it work.

A few pics:

Gigging: Thater Races and Communiversity Fest

2010-09-24T20:10:00.000-07:00

I wanted to write about the gig we just did, a big block party downtown jointly sponsored by the community and the university (hence "Communiversity Fest"), but first I'm going to paste in a post I wrote almost a month ago and forgot to put up, about the Thater races, a big gig in the park that we also did last year and were very happy about doing again this year....

AUGUST 28: This was a great gig! Better turnout than last year; in fact, better turnout than we saw for any other band down there (ok, we only saw a few other bands—but still!). It was a very high-energy gig—lots of energy from the crowd, and plenty on stage as well. There was a problem with the guitar amp they provided, so Bob loaned the band before us his amp. This somehow got the set-up all a little off, so we were a little behind schedule when we were setting up, which was a tiny bit stressful. (With these types of gigs, when a whole bunch of bands are playing short sets one right after the other, a quick tear-down and set-up is key, and is insisted upon.) I’m glad it didn’t happen last year because it might have thrown me. But I was able to just let it go when it was time to play.

We opened with All Right Now, which started us off on a high note, and it just got better from there. Right off the bat there was a “tween” girl with a Nintendo DS up front taking pictures of us. Maybe she had just gotten the DS and was experimenting with taking pictures of anything, but still, I felt flattered! The crowd seemed to love Hidin’ Out with the Blues (one of our newest originals), which we played next, and Josie (after that) always goes over big. Next was Ramblin’ Man, and when the opening riff started, you could feel the mood lift in the crowd. They were totally into it, and boy was that fun! Why (one of my songs, that I've blogged about in the past) also went over huge. It was my favorite time playing it, ever. There were these young teen-aged girls off to my left who I noticed were completely digging the song, and digging me, so I gave them a little encouragement by singing some of the lines to them. Well, that’s all it took, and they were off and running. Singing along with each chorus, copping the appropriate attitude… (“when I’m the best that you ever had…”) I can’t tell you how much fun it was, getting that kind of reaction on a song I’d written. After that we hit ‘em with Black Magic Woman, and the crowd's energy seemed to increase again! What a rush. The group of girls started line dancing, and all across the park we could see people really loving it. At the end of that, I said, “All right! Let’s Rock and Roll!” And Donnie, the stage manager, who had come up to the top of the steps, said “Let’s Rock and Roll? How ‘bout let’s go home!!” and then he laughed and said “Ok, one more…” At that point we had planned to play Can’t You See, but I was thinking it was too long (plus I would’ve had to strap on my guitar)... and also I really wanted to keep the energy up. So I called out Mojo, and we ended with that. Of course it went over like hot cakes!

It was one of my favorite gigs. I was so excited and happy and having a ball the whole time. I was nervous beforehand, for much of the day, really. But once I got on stage I was in the comfort zone. It was a blast.

And I’m really glad that of our 3 big outdoor gigs that we have lined up for late summer, this one was first. I’m feeling ready to rock downtown!

Some pictures:

You can see the girl with the Nintendo DS in the foreground:

Love my blue congas!
Here are the line-dancing, chorus-singing, girl-power girls (Donnie dubbed them the "Sparkle Sisters"):
And here's our littlest fan, the precious Baby Ben:

And here are a few pictures from Blues on the Bridge, which I didn't write a separate blog post about. Here's Lindsey with Baby Ben--she watched him for the whole time (Laurie was out of town), and did a truly awesome job!:

I loved this stage. I especially loved that it was right over the foot bridge where Bob and I had a whole slew of wedding pictures taken, as it's not too far from the church where we married. But also it's just one of my favorite spots in Binghamton, right by the confluence of the Susquehanna and Chenango rivers.

The booths set up on the bridge over the Chenango, directly in front of the stage:

Linds and Baby Ben, after the gig. It might look like Ben's in the same onesie as he had on at the Thater, but that one has a big peace sign on it and this one says "Johnny Cash Folsom Prison" on it. Classic!

Ok, now onto talking about Communiversity Fest:

SEPTEMBER 24: This was the third in our series of 3 big outdoor gigs. Another short gig, which is perfect (so that I can stay for the whole thing but still not be gone from the baby for too long). The Thater Races and Blues on the Bridge were the first two. I loved how the Thater gig went, but I honestly felt just a little deflated after Blues on the Bridge—it went by so fast! I felt like I barely got going and then it was over. This was partly due to the way we had constructed the set list: for one thing, I didn’t sing until 4 songs in, and I didn’t realize how that would affect my feeling connected to the crowd and vice versa. Plus, we were also really bummed to discover that they put the wrong web address for us in the program—a MySpace page for another Voodoo Highway! Anyway, this gig wasn’t going to be much longer, but I liked the pacing of the set list that we’d come up with a lot better, and I was really looking forward to rocking downtown. And I was going to make sure I announced our website, so people could find us if they liked us and wanted to hear us again.

There was some pre-show drama. We all met at the Geers’ (our neighbors' house, where we practice), and were on our way downtown in two cars when Mike, our drummer, realized he’d left his drumsticks back in his car. So we dropped everyone off downtown to get started with the set up (the equipment was all in the Geers’ car), and Mike and I headed back to the Geers’ to get his sticks. When we were on our way back downtown, Bob called to say that although we’d been told there would be a drum kit provided, in fact, there was none, and we’d have to get Mike’s drums. WHAT?! So Mike and I turned around and headed back to the Geers’, and madly started dismantling his kit which was set up in their basement. It’s quite the production. But just when we had it just about all dismantled (but not all packed up), Bob called back and said the drummer in the band that had just finished said we could use his. Ok! So, back downtown….

It took us and the sound people a while to get us all set up. They had some a capella groups on in between bands, and they were quite good, but people weren’t really sticking around. When we had first arrived at this thing, at slightly before 8, there were a lot of people there, but by the time we were ready to go on, hardly anyone was left! All the vendors had packed up and gone home, and most of the crowd had as well.

Anyway, we were finishing up the sound check at about 8:35, so running late by about 5 minutes or so, and then Bob broke a string! So then we had to wait while he changed it, which took almost another 10 minutes.

I took the opportunity to talk up the band to the few people who were sticking around. Telling them our name, website, upcoming gigs… I was actually kind of having fun with it. I felt loose and “on”. And it was good practice for me. I still sometimes am so focused on the music that I forget to talk to the crowd. With no music to focus on just yet, it was easy to remember to talk!

Finally, at 8:45—15 minutes late—we were ready to go on. We busted out with Black Magic Woman. I was a little nervous that there weren’t any on-stage monitors; I was wondering how the heck we were going to be able to hear ourselves. But on both of the speaker stacks that were off to each side they had one speaker that was turned back around toward us and I could actually hear us just fine (though Mike, who was sitting 3 feet or so behind me, said he couldn’t hear at all). I did hear a bit of an echo sometimes, which can be really disconcerting, but it wasn’t too often. All in all, I could hear us just fine.

The crowd, such as it was, seemed to be loving it. And honestly, I will take a small crowd who’s totally into it over a larger crowd that just sits there any day! They were dancing and singing along and playing air guitar, etc., and were clearly enjoying it. It was a great vibe. I was having a blast.

Next came Gimme 3 Steps, which I sing, and I felt really good about it. I felt like we were hitting it just right and again, it was going over very well. I think Bob was a little thrown from the broken string thing, and he skipped ahead a bit in the middle part of the 3-part solo, but I don’t think anyone really noticed. We all just followed him ahead.

Next up was Ramblin’ Man, which I felt like we also nailed, and the crowd also seemed to love. Several groups of people walked by during the song, and everyone was looking like they were really into it.

I was excited to sing Why next, and was trying to decide if I was going to announce ahead of time that it’s one of our songs or wait until it was over to say that… however, when we ended Ramblin’ Man one of the organizers headed over to the stage and told us that was it! Time was up—the sound people were only on until 9, and it was 9.

So, all that work to play 3 songs in front of probably 30 people! But you know what? I loved it. Standing there on Court Street, under the street lights and the traffic signal that kept changing from green-to-yellow-to-red and back again, playing songs I love for people who were digging it… I was really happy.

I do still feel like any experience is good experience at this point. And who knows? Maybe we made a few new fans who will come out and hear us again next time.

Sorry the formatting is a bit messed up on this post. I really should learn HTML. I'll put that on my to-do list. Ha.

Proud Mama

2010-09-24T13:40:00.000-07:00

My boys are having a great day today!

First, George got elected president of his Campfire Kids troop (a co-ed, hippy version of scouts. I should add that I don't really know if the national organization of Campfire is so much more hippy than scouts, but our local homeschool troop definitely is!). Here was the speech he gave:

Please don't feel like you have to vote for me because you're my friend. If you do vote for me, I want it to be because you think I'd do the best job. I have a lot of experience with public speaking, so I think I'd do a pretty good job as president.

Now, if you've been reading this blog from the beginning, you may recall that George ran for president of his homeschool government class a couple of years ago, and lost. So I was really proud of him for having the courage to run.

And I'm really happy for him that he's finding ample opportunities to explore his interests and talents. It was one of the things I was worried about when we made the decision to homeschool full-time, that he wouldn't have the chance to experience certain things that I knew he would really enjoy and that usually happen in a school setting, like running in an election. And here he is, only a couple of years later, having gotten to experience both losing and winning. I'm also proud of how humble he is about all of this:-) He took it totally in stride, and also felt bad for his friend who ran against him--who, by the way, did get elected VP.

As for my other boy, he sat up today for the first time! He's been working up to it, almost sitting up, for a long, long time. But today was the first day where he stayed up long enough that we felt it could really "count". Correcting himself when he was about to fall over and such. Both Bob and I were sitting right here with him when he did it. Proud, happy moment!

Let's hope the evening goes just as well as the afternoon did, as Bob and I have a gig with the band downtown in a few hours. It's a quick (half-hour) gig at a downtown block party jointly held by the University and the city, called Communiversity Fest. Ok, gotta go get ready to rock!

Back to School (ish)

2010-09-15T17:46:00.000-07:00

Wow, it's been a long time since I've written! (Actually, I started many posts over the summer which I would then abandon when the baby needed me, and then I'd forget to get back to them. I did recently get around to posting one I had started on Father's Day about Ben and Bob. Maybe I'll be filling in some more as time goes by.) In any case, as you can imagine, I've been a little busy all summer, with the sweetest little baby around, but also with work, and with the older kids. George was home a lot (didn't go to as many camps as he has in past years), and Brad and Lindsey, my stepkids, were with us all summer. It was crazy and hectic in some respects, but it was also great to have that bonding time as a family.

Anyway, Brad and Lindsey are back at school and living with their mom most of the time, and our homeschooling is pretty much back in full swing. I'm on maternity leave this semester (hooray for my dean), but will continue to work on several things including the journal I edit.

I thought long and hard about what I wanted to accomplish with George this year, and talked to him about it extensively. There are those who think I should make George do at least some academic things that he doesn't particularly enjoy (just every so often, because that's life), but I'm perfectly satisfied merely to make him endure chores that he doesn't enjoy and leave it at that. I really don't see any reason to make school unpleasant for him. First of all, that's a big reason why we homeschool! So that I can tailor the work to his learning styles/abilities, so that he gets the most out of it. Second of all, if it's unpleasant for him, believe me, it's unpleasant for me. And who needs that?! So, anyway, I have had many discussions with George about what his expectations and desires and goals are, and together we came up with the following plans:

MATH: Math was so traumatic last year! I even considered skipping it altogether this year, to make up for the anguish I made him endure last year because I didn't want to let him quit a program I had spent a small fortune on, even when it became utterly clear it was a terrible fit for him. But rather than abandoning math altogether, I really wanted to find at least a few things he could do that he would actually enjoy, to try to see if he could maybe even have a little fun with math. What we came up with was the first two books in the Life of Fred series, which are roughly equivalent to 5th-grade math, I think. Also, he'll continue to play math-based computer games like Timez Attack (which has painlessly taught him his times tables). We may also work through the Descartes' Cove math CD series, though when we tried it last year it was still a little too hard for him. Will all of this be enough? I don't know. Enough for what, anyway? The Life of Fred author claims that there is enough math in the series, if you follow it to the end, to get you through college-level math classes. I think that's going to be good enough for me, at least for 5th grade. Seriously, if he falls behind he can always catch up later, and it's more important to me right now that he find a way not to hate math, and maybe even to love it.

SCIENCE: We bought the complete middle school/high school PLATO online curriculum (through the Homeschool Buyers Co-op), but with the idea that all George really needed to do to make it worth our while was the award-winning middle school science series (which CTY uses for their middle school science courses, at greatly increased cost--admittedly, with increased support as well). There are three separate courses: Life Science, Earth and Space Science, and Physical Science. He's well into the Earth and Space one (started it over the summer) and is loving it so far.

ENGLISH: Reading takes care of itself with George, and so do spelling and vocabulary-building and such. As for writing, I kind of wanted him to take another CTY reading/writing course--he's done two and they were fantastic--but he decided he's more interested in a course offered by Northwestern's CTD called Family Vignettes. Here's the course description:

It has been said that family stories are heirlooms held in the heart, not the hand. Every family has favorite memories, often with multiple versions, dependent on the person who is telling the tale. Learn to create short, written, impressionistic scenes that focus on a single moment or event in a family’s memory and discover a particular insight into a character, idea or setting. To tell these stories well, students must pay attention to details, refine their writing skills and in turn, become more thoughtful readers and writers in other contexts. The final products of this class are treasured.

He's going to wait until the winter session to do that class, though. For now he'll focus on various creative writing projects and also on learning to type, which he's finally excited about doing. For that we're using Type to Learn, which we also bought through the Homeschool Buyers Co-op at a significant discount. Honestly, if the main thing he accomplishes this year in writing is to learn how to type well, I'll be happy. It will be such an important skill for him--for everyone, really, but especially for someone who really loves to write. As for handwriting, I do think he could stand some work in that area as well, but I'm going to wait on that for now. I think one boring-but-essential mechanical skill at a time is enough.

SOCIAL STUDIES: I had thought he might like to do the American History course on PLATO, but he did a few units over the summer and quickly tired of it. I'm not going to sweat it. Learned that lesson with math last year. Besides, there are sooooo many ways to learn history. We're going to watch the History Channel video series "America: The Story of US", which we actually started watching last year but didn't make it all the way through. They're decent videos, and I'm grateful to the History Channel for sending them to educators for free. But they aren't terribly nuanced or critical, so to balance them out he'll read Howard Zinn's "A Young People's History of the United States." I think those two things would give him a really decent overview of American history, but on top of that we're going to build a curriculum around the Williamsburg virtual field trip series (again, something we bought through the Homeschool Buyers Co-op--at 90% off! Maybe it sounds like I'm doing a commercial for this Co-op. I'm not. It's free to join anyway. I'm just so happy that I found it, because it's saved me a ton of money and has also brought a lot of great materials to my attention). It's a program of seven live broadcasts on a variety of topics, and it looks like it could be great fun. I haven't fully explored all of the study materials that come along with it, but from what I have seen it looks like it would be pretty easy to spend a lot of time (if that's what we want) preparing for them and then wrapping them up. I'm looking forward to watching them myself. The first one (Oct. 14) is called "The Will of the People", and here's its description: "One of the most bitter presidential campaigns in U. S. history is part of a surprising lesson for a 21st-century student. Thomas Jefferson explains how negative campaigning, partisan politics, and contested elections have been part of our political system since the earliest days of the republic."

MUSIC & THE ARTS: Recorder lessons, with a fantastic teacher who is a great musician and teacher and also totally "gets" George. I've probably written about her before. She's really top-notch, teaching him the basics like reading music but also having him write his own pieces, and improvise as part of his daily practice, and play songs different ways expressing different things, etc. And church choir, with arguably the best choirmaster in town. (People who aren't even Episcopalian have been known to join the choir at our church to be able to work with him.) I was in a church choir briefly when I was a kid and I remember getting together every so often and learning some nice hymns and putting together a special program at Christmas and such, but this is something else. He really gives the kids a thorough musical education. I'm so glad George has taken to it. In addition to those things, we'll take him to concerts, plays, operas, art exhibits, etc., and of course expose him to plenty of rock and blues via Voodoo Highway :-)

PHYS ED: Tae Kwon Do... as close to 3 days a week as we can swing. Also, running around and playing outside both at the weekly homeschool playgroup and with the neighborhood kids after school, as long as the weather permits. I'm trying to talk George's dad into taking him to the park once a week for a bike ride. And I'm going to try to get George to come with me sometimes when I walk with Ben. Honestly, this will probably be the most challenging area to keep up with (I mean, once the pool is closed). I'm considering buying a trampoline... if I can find a cheap one that seems reasonably safe.

In addition to the subjects mentioned so far, he'll be participating in plenty of other group and individual activities, like "Cooking and Pop Culture" with my BFF Laurie, and Chess Club, and Campfire Kids (kind of like a more hippie version of Boy Scouts), and Shakespeare in the spring, and probably Odyssey of the Mind, etc. etc. Also, he'll have various daily/weekly chores. So, he'll be keeping busy!

I'm hoping to strike a good balance this year, giving him just enough structure so that he can really thrive, but also giving him freedom to run with his interests. I'm not so concerned that he cover everything that a 5th grader would cover in public school. My approach is more that I want him to be able to explore what he's passionate about, while continuing to develop his talents and skills that will serve him in whatever his future endeavors will be (most likely including--but not limited to--college). And I want him to have a great time doing it. And I want to be able to facilitate it all while still being able to devote ample time and energy to my job. And my new baby. And stepkids. And marriage. And the band. And.... Well, you get the idea. Wish me luck.

Letter to Baby Ben, on his 3-month birthday

2010-07-31T03:59:00.000-07:00

Dear Ben,

You are an amazing baby! (Sure, all mothers think that about their babies, and I'd have a hard time arguing that they're wrong. But whatever--this isn't their blog post; it's yours, so getting back to *you*....) I wanted to write some of my favorite things about this time with you because it's going by so fast, and I don't want to forget.

Probably my favorite thing is when you look up at me when I'm feeding and/or holding you.... You have this look in your eyes, like you're just taking it all in. So open and innocent, but in a way that almost seems wise. Like you have this wisdom that you brought with you from wherever you came from, like you're a foreigner in a new country, processing and making sense of all that you see. And then you'll suddenly break into a smile--a smile that could light up a whole city. In the wintertime. Your daddy and I call them smiles from heaven, because it actually kind of feels like heaven itself is smiling on us. It really does! You are so sweet, and beautiful--you pretty much just feel like pure love.

As you can tell, you have doting parents. We've been through this before, but circumstances are such that we are both in a position to enjoy it much more this time around. It's funny to think back about how disruptive a baby once seemed. It seems as natural as can be this time. And you know, we've always been very happy with each other, but since you've come along it's off the charts. You bring so much love and joy to us all, each and every day.

Another thing I love about you-right-now is how you laugh when we change your clothes. You think it's hilarious when we pull a onesie up over your head! And I love how you look at art, like you're really evaluating and appreciating it.... And even though I joke about the country music thing, I do get a kick out of your defined musical taste. And a little more about your smile: when I smile at you, I love how you smile back at me with this twinkle in your eye, almost as if we're sharing a private joke, the best private joke ever.

And I'm sorry if it sounds like bragging (hey, that's my right as your mom)--but you are one beautiful baby boy. Seriously. Even strangers stop us to tell us so, and they also remark on how happy and smiley you are. An old lady stopped me in the supermarket the other day to say what a cute, happy baby you are. Of course I had to agree.

I love your perfect little eyebrows... Laurie calls them "painted-on" eyebrows. And I love how you arch/raise them sometimes when you are interacting with people. It's quite the sophisticated little look.

I love how you are getting really into your books, especially Pat the Bunny. It's sooooo sweet.

And I love how your siblings are responding to you. It's hard to express how much sweetness fills my heart when I see them interacting with you. Of course, I also love watching you and your dad together.

Well, I'd better go catch some zzzz ("Sleep when the baby sleeps", and all that). Your Uncle Metro and Barbara are here to visit you, and we're all going to Woodstock (the concert venue) tomorrow. Your daddy and I are excited to take you there--we went there last year on our anniversary, right around the time you first came into existence.

Anyway, thanks for being you, and for bringing me such boundless joy:-)

Love,

Mom

PS--a few photos of you over the last month:

With Lindsey at the tennis court

With big brother Brad

George reading to you on his bed

With Lindsey on the courts again, while we play

With Laurie, at the big party we had today to welcome Uncle Metro and Barbara to Binghamton

Summer Camp Time!

2010-07-24T07:10:00.000-07:00

Summer's in full swing, and that means camp for George, though he has scaled back a bit from past years. He used to go to camp pretty much all summer, but his tastes have become more specific and he's narrowed it down to just a few that he really loves this year--all at our Discovery Center. Last week it was "Myths and Legends" week, and the camp for his age group was Mythical Creatures. They learned about vampires, dragons, werewolves, etc. It was extremely well done, with crafts that even the usually craft-averse George loved, and really cool themed snacks that they helped make of course, like dragon cookies and werewolf cupcakes.

The counselor was awesome, and really enjoyed George. A counselor who was not so on top of her game might not have, since George was already something of an expert on mythical creatures, and also has never been the type to keep silent in a classroom setting if he disagrees or has a particular opinion! For example, one day I stayed for the beginning of camp, and the counselor was talking about mermaids. She said that there had been sightings of mermaids reported throughout history, including by Christopher Columbus. George raised his hand and when called on, he announced "But you can't trust anything that Christopher Columbus said, because he was a liar!" Then another kid jumped in and said "Yeah, and he didn't really discover America! There were already people here!" Without missing a beat, the counselor said, "Well, Christopher Columbus isn't here to defend himself, so let's leave him alone for now..." and took the conversation right back to mermaids, which seemed fine with everyone--they had gotten to speak their peace!

On the last day they wore costumes and got their faces painted. George chose to dress as a vampire, and he had a truly inspired idea for his face-painting:

Here's a closer look:

Creepy, huh?

And here he is with his counselor:

The kids paraded around a bit with a Chinese dragon, had refreshments, and received award certificates. George's was for "Most Informed", which didn't surprise me one bit!

Next up: Galumpha camp!

Back out there with the Band

2010-07-22T02:58:00.000-07:00

It was great to be back out gigging again, especially for such a fun and appreciative audience as the firemen turned out to be! And Baby Ben survived it just fine (and my pal who watched him survived his fussy time--whew).

The funniest thing that happened at this gig was when a guy came up to me during the break and asked me if I'd slap him. What?? For real? Yes. He didn't seem like a total creep or anything--in fact, he seemed like a very nice young fireman--so I said ok, and gave him a good ole slap across the face. It was kinda fun actually. (Is that wrong?!) He thanked me and walked away.

Very soon after that a slightly older fireman came up and said to me, "What did my son say to you??!" I just laughed and said something like, "Well, I don't really want to repeat it, but let's just say we're even now." He apologized profusely for his son's rudeness, and then walked away. A little while later I was at the bar getting a refill on my water (I get very thirsty when I sing!), and the young guy, the son, came up to me and thanked me again, both for slapping him and for not giving him away when his dad asked me about it. It turns out that he had made a bet with his friends. He told them that he wanted to come up and talk to me, and they said they didn't think he had the guts (I *told* you it was an appreciative audience!). He then upped the ante and told them what he planned on saying to me, which he didn't repeat to me, but was obviously something quite bold. They said he wouldn't dare say that! And he said oh-yes-he-would, and walked up to me... and you know the rest. Anyway, I guess this mama's still got it ;-)

Baby Ben: Lover of the Arts

2010-07-17T08:52:00.000-07:00

This baby is tuned into the arts, has preferences, and lets us know about them.

First of all, he hates a blank wall. From very, very soon after we brought him home from the hospital he has fixated on paintings or wall-hangings of various types. We have a painting above our bed that he loves to stare at, and will crane his neck to try to see until we turn him around and let him look right at it. He'll stare at it for very lengthy periods of time. I get an extra kick out of this because of the sentimental value of the painting; it's something my sister did many years ago, when I was still a kid, of the bedpost of my grandmother's bed:

He also loves the photograph of the mosaic on the floor in the San Marco cathedral in Venice that we have hanging over his changing table:

As soon as we set him down, he starts moving his head around so that he can see it better. And he doesn't just stare at these works of art--he actually "talks" to them and smiles at them and even laughs!

And whenever we take him into a new room or place, he immediately scans the walls for artwork. Friends' houses, the dentist's office, you name it--he wants to see the art. And if he doesn't find any to look at, he fusses a little bit, and gives us this look like, WTF? Where's the art, man?

Second, he has a definite musical taste. Of course I'm thrilled that he's so tuned into music. However, I'm not so sure about his genre of choice: country. It all started when he was in the womb. As I'm pretty sure I've mentioned, he'd go *nuts* in there every time I'd play Johnny Cash's Folsom Prison Blues with the band. (If you don't know it, it has a very driving rhythm, at least the way we play it. And it's one of the songs I play on guitar.) I couldn't really tell if he loved it or hated it, but it never failed to get a big reaction out of him, and I'd often have to try pretty hard not to crack up on stage. Band on the Run never got that kind of reaction out of him, or any of the other songs I play guitar on! You might think that perhaps he was gravitating toward what we had familiarized him with, but that's really not the case. That is the *only* country song we play, and we never played it all that often (I mean, we played it for every gig we had, but we played lots and lots of songs at our gigs. And it's not like we were working on this one and practicing it all the time, because it's a song we already had down long before he came along). So it was, and remains, a mystery why he responded so strongly to that song, every single time.

And he still loves it. The other night Bob and I were up in the man cave going over our set list for this gig; Ben slept through most of it. But at a certain point he woke up and was very fussy, so I held and fed him while singing/practicing the conga beats on my knees. Quite the multi-tasker, I know. Anyway, the one thing I couldn't do while holding him was play guitar, and we did have one song left that we hadn't gone over yet, which was--you guessed it--Folsom Prison. So I set him down his his bouncy seat and he immediately started to fuss, very actively. Not all-out-bawling, but on the verge. Well, as soon as we started strumming the first bar he stopped all fussing and was completely riveted. Spellbound, even. Staring at me and my guitar with this look of total wonder and awe. I was wishing I had a camera handy! It was amazing.

We have also discovered that he loves the soundtrack to Crazy Heart (a movie Bob and I loved and saw like 3 times... it's the only country record we own, and we bought it because we so admired the songwriting in the movie). If he gets fussy in the car, we put it on, and it placates him. We have to play it at a pretty high volume, though. And if we get sick of it and turn the volume down or, heaven forbid, put something else on, he'll let us know he's *not* ok with that. Even it seems like he's asleep. He'll wake right up and make it clear that we'd better crank that sucker back up again!

Bob has taken to calling him our little shit-kicker :-) And we're taking this as proof that God has a sense of humor, that rocker parents would end up with a baby who only has ears for country....

The Baby and the Band

2010-07-17T07:05:00.000-07:00

We have a bunch of gigs lined up for the second half of the summer, starting with one today, so I've been back in full swing with band practice. It has not been entirely smooth! But we're working it out, and it feels great to be back.

Our first gig is perfect to start out with, because it is short--two one-hour sets, with a short break in between. We've worked it out so that I won't be needed for the second half of the second set, so I can leave early. I'll be leaving Ben at home with my best pal (who is also one of his godmothers) and plenty of pumped milk and instructions re. what to do if he gets fussy (dip in the hot tub followed by time in his swing). I'm actually feeling ok about leaving him for this short amount of time, with someone I completely trust, and am hopeful about how it will go.

I've participated in two full practices so far, to get ready for this gig. For the first one, we had George watch Ben (just right upstairs from us!), which did not go so very well, I'm afraid. The problem is that practice happens to be right at Ben's fussy time. Ben was fine when I left him to go downstairs, but before long he was screaming his head off. George was so frustrated and felt so bad that he was powerless to help his little brother that he soon joined Ben in the tear-shedding department. Fortunately, our sound guy (Les, who is also one of Ben's godfathers) came to the rescue, putting Ben in the "football hold" while walking him around, and getting him to sleep right away. At that point their daughter who was home from college stepped in and held Ben for the rest of practice.

So this week we thought we'd try having my stepdaughter Lindsey watch Ben during practice, because she is really incredible with him. In fact, sometimes she can calm him down even when Bob and I can't! We call her the junior mommy, which she loves. She's only 9, and I wouldn't even think of leaving her truly alone with him, but I figured she could handle being upstairs from us. Practice lasts only about an hour and a half, and she watches him all the time at home--including during his fussy time. But in fact it was a bit rough on her! I came up in between songs at a certain point and her eyes were welling up with tears as she told me that it was too hard! He wasn't actually crying with Lindsey--he's sooo comfortable with her--but he was wiggling all over the place and she just didn't know what to do to settle him. I put him in the stroller and walked him around the living room and dining room until they really needed me downstairs again, at which point Les once again came to the rescue, getting Ben calm enough to where he fell out hard next to Lindsey on the couch. Probably what we need to do is just bring the swing to band practice with us, because that works pretty much every time. I'm also contemplating getting some noise-canceling headphones for him, so he could even be downstairs with us while we play.

Anyway... playing our old songs again (covers, as opposed to our own music which we've been playing exclusively since mid-February) has been a lot of fun. I have absolutely been loving the recording process, but getting back to our standard set list has also felt great--like putting on a pair of really comfy-but-cute shoes and stepping out to dance the night away!

The gig is a party put on by the firemen in a nearby town. Since it's relatively short, we'll be playing only songs that are our very favorites, including the debut of two songs that we've recorded but have never before performed in public.

Wish me luck!

Shakespeare in the Woods

2010-06-28T06:51:00.000-07:00

The homeschool Shakespeare group wrapped up its second year this weekend with three performances of Twelfth Night. The Friday night performance was in a theater on campus, and the Saturday and Sunday matinees were at a thing called Faerie Fest (think Renaissance Fair with lots of wings and a bigger dose of fantasy).

As was the case last year, the Shakespeare class/group has been a wonderful experience, for both George and me. It's homeschooling at its best, in a way. It felt like being part of a really wonderful school--well, actually, better than that. People worry that homeschoolers don't get enough opportunity for socialization, but the kind of community and socialization that developed over the course of the last several months with the Shakespeare group was probably better than anything I've ever been part of in a school setting, as either a student or a parent.

Since sometime in March, 31 kids and their parents met every Monday for about 3 hours (and occasionally on Fridays as well). The leaders of the group are the minister from the local Unitarian church and his wife, and they are extraordinary. The first few sessions were dedicated to various acting games, which served not only to loosen the kids up and get them really into the spirit of acting, but also to give Douglas (the director) an idea of the kids' levels of acting ability, for the purposes of casting. The activities ranged from improv with or without props to saying various lines with different emotions. Once the play was cast, the weekly sessions obviously focused more on rehearsals, but until the last month or so there was always a little time left at the end for more acting games, which the kids just loved.

The parents at first mostly just watched (although sometimes we participated in some of the games, too), but as time went by people helped out as they were able with costumes and sets or with running lines with kids whose scenes weren't being rehearsed right then with the director. As the months went by, I found myself becoming closer with several of the parents, but also with many of the kids. I have to say, I really love these kids! And I really cherish having had the opportunity to spend time with them, and to see them grow as actors and as people. And once Ben was born, it was so wonderful to see the kids respond to him. They were fascinated by and adored him, and would always ask to hold him and would sometimes even help me change him. It was so very sweet.

One experience that had nothing to do with the production really stands out to me as typifying the beauty of the community of the group. The Unitarian church has a labyrinth in the yard, and after rehearsal one day one of the kids asked me if I'd use the timer on my cell phone to time her as she ran through it. When a couple of other kids saw what we were doing, they asked if they could do it too, and before long there was a line of at least 10 kids who wanted to run through the labyrinth and be timed. I have to admit that part of me was just a little nervous--while a few of the kids are active in competitive sports, many are not, and I just wasn't sure how they'd handle this kind of direct competition. (Maybe I've internalized some fears about homeschooled kids!) Plus, some of the kids are a lot younger, and I thought maybe they'd get their feelings hurt if they didn't do as well. I needn't have worried! The kids all stuck around after their turns not just to see if anyone would beat their time, but also to cheer each other on with great gusto. You could really feel them pulling for each other, as if they were all on a team together. Which I guess they sort of are! I found the whole thing to be both touching and great fun.

The play took a little longer to come together this year than last, probably because it was significantly longer and also a bit more complex, with more characters with speaking parts, and some longer scenes with lots of entrances and exits and such. But eventually it did come together, of course, and despite the occasional rough spot we parents were all bursting with pride on performance night.

George did an awesome job (my biased and unbiased opinion), making the most of his minor role despite his disappointment in not getting a lead this time around. At least he didn't have to play a lover again, which was what he very much wanted to avoid:-)

I hope Douglas and Sidra will be up for doing this again next year!

A whole bunch of pictures... starting with one of the cast party, held at our house. Look, actual homeschool socialization in action ;-)

George as Fabian, the gardener:

Tending the tree he's about to hide behind with Sir Andrew:

Watching as Malvolio reads the fake love letter they have planted for him...

The whole cast, at the end of the production on campus:

The next day, at the entrance to the Faerie Festival

Fabian, pushing a very reluctant Sir Andrew to fight with an equally reluctant Cesario
Fabian, Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew discuss their shenanigans

The final scene, when all is revealed:

In between scenes, Baby Ben is adored....

My number 1 helper, pretty-in-pink stepdaughter Lindsey

Hamming it up after the performance in the woods at the festival

One of the more elaborate booths at the festival:

A fairy/nymph of some sort, who came out of her tree to offer a very entertaining blessing upon Baby Ben:

Another entertaining creature...

We wrapped up day two with a trip to a nearby lake:

Scary movies

2010-06-27T03:25:00.000-07:00

George tells me that the 4 scariest movies he's ever seen are:

4. Toy Story 3
3. Killer Klowns from Outer Space
2. Super Size Me
1. Gasland

Out of the lot, Killer Klowns was the only one he actually enjoyed. I had been looking forward to taking him to Toy Story 3, but his dad beat me to it--which wouldn't have stopped me from also taking him, except that he does *not* want to see it again! Not because it was too scary, primarily, but because he also found it quite sad, and just did not find it fun. Oh well. Super Size Me was scary in what I think is an appropriate way... we should be afraid of McDonald's! And ditto for Gasland, which details the disastrous effects of natural gas drilling, although that one affected him perhaps a little too much.

His dad took him to a screening of Gasland last week at which the director was present. George fully expected to find it uninteresting, and had brought a book along with him. But it seems he didn't read much of his book. His dad told me that George was so upset about the movie that he was crying about it later that night, and what he was most upset about was that his baby brother might have to grow up in a wasteland! So sweet and sad at the same time. I watched the movie a few days later on HBO; it is indeed awfully disturbing. I'm hoping that the attention the movie brings to the issue will be enough to halt the drilling. But I told George that if things really get that bad here we'll find a way to move somewhere else. Maybe somewhere free of scary day care centers, Killer Klowns, and McDonald's!?

Ben and his Daddy

2010-06-21T02:04:00.000-07:00

We had a great Father's Day. I wanted to make it extra special, since it's our first one with Ben. The rest of the kids were all with their other parents, so it was just the three of us, and we went to Skaneateles. It was an absolutely gorgeous day here in upstate NY--a day that could almost make you forget about the other seasons, and make a California girl actually *want* to live here. :-)

Anyway, we had lunch on the waterfront at the Bluewater Grill, which was great. The place gets mixed reviews online, but I've loved it every time I've been there. The food was delicious, the service was great, and the views were lovely.

After lunch we took a sightseeing cruise on the lake, which was so nice. We both really, really love the water. And then we strolled down the main street and looked in several stores before heading back home.

All-in-all it was a pretty much perfect day.

And on the occasion of Father's Day, I wanted to write a little bit about how bonded Ben is with his dad. It's pretty extraordinary. I've never seen anything like it. It's been like that from the day we brought him home from the hospital. He completely adores Bob, and seems utterly fascinated/compelled by him. He will just stare and stare, adoringly, at Bob's face. At less than two weeks old he smiled at Bob, and has been smiling at him ever since. (He does smile at other people, but with nowhere near the frequency he does with Bob.) When he's fussy, he'll calm right down on Bob's chest. When we put him on the bed between us, he finds a way to scooch himself over (he has done this from the beginning) and plaster himself next to Bob, and then he flails his little arms and legs around (batting at Bob) until Bob picks him up and puts him on his chest. Ben usually at that point puts his arms straight out to the sides, as if he's giving his daddy a giant hug. And then he promptly falls asleep. He has wanted me when he's hungry, but that's pretty much been it, and in fact if Bob could feed him I think he'd be happy never to leave Bob's side!

About 95% of the time, I think this is wonderful. Honestly, I was the one who was initially most enthusiastic about having another kid (though Bob was certainly on board), so it's been a beautiful thing to see this incredible bond between the two of them, and how much joy it brings Bob. We have even said that we kind of feel like Ben is here for Bob. Maybe that sounds weird, but if you could see it, you might know what I mean. He's certainly changing Bob's life in a huge way, because Bob has decided not to go back to teaching next year, but to stay home with him, which we're all really thrilled about. It's also just really nice to feel that this little being who needs so much doesn't need it all from me--it's great to be able to share the caregiving as well as the love.

But every once in a while I do get just a little jealous! Mostly after a marathon feeding session when he then wants to go to Bob, and will look up at him with this expression of satisfaction and gratitude, like "Wow, Dad, thanks for that great meal!" Humph! I think it would be at least a little more fair if Bob were the one who had to give up dairy!

Anyway, every day Ben is more and more alert, and he's getting more tuned into me as well, which I am enjoying. In fact, he's plastered right up against my side right this minute. So sweet.

A few pics of our day, and of Ben and his daddy:

In front of the Bluewater Grill

Inside, a primo window seat for Ben!

Itty, bitty, baby feet!!

Back in the car, for a quick feed and a cuddle

A gorgeous day out on the lake!

Drinky-poo on the boat

Cheers to you, Daddy!

More lovely lake views

"Judge Ben" has a nice ring to it

And now a few pictures of Ben enjoying his favorite spot (right next to, or on top of, Dada):

Sailing around the world

2010-06-19T06:02:00.000-07:00

Sailing has been on my mind a lot lately, because my brother Michael's 3-year circumnavigation is just about to come to an end, but also because of the 16-year-old girl, Abby, who recently had to be rescued in the Indian Ocean. When she was lost at sea for that day or so, of course I could not help but think about my brother, and how happy I was that he was done with all of his ocean crossings and was now sailing safely up the Pacific coast of Mexico, back toward his home port in Southern California. And of course I was hugely relieved when Abby was found and rescued.

Part of me admires both Abby and her parents (for letting her go). What spirit! Like Dante's Ulysses, who--unlike Homer's Ulysses--instead of returning home to Ithaca decides to sail out past the Pillars of Hercules (where the Mediterranean meets the Atlantic), into uncharted waters, in search of adventure and knowledge. Dante rewards Ulysses' daring by shipwrecking him, as if to say that we humans ought to know our limits, and should not reach for too much. But if everyone thought that way, if everyone stayed "in bounds", how much we as a species would miss! Sure it sounds crazy to let a 16-year-old sail around the world by herself. But didn't it once sound crazy to fly to the moon? To fly at all? We need dreamers and adventurers who dare to push the limits.

On the other hand, there's daring, and then there's foolhardiness.

Michael plotted out his trip very carefully, keeping the various extreme weather seasons around the world in mind. And in fact, his trip ended up taking three years instead of the originally planned two because he got off-schedule a few times while his boat needed repairs, which sometimes resulted in his having to remain in a particular port for months, waiting out monsoon or hurricane seasons. Avoiding the major storm seasons is no guarantee of safety, to be sure. But it seems a pretty good place to start. Apparently Abby never should have been sailing that far south in the Indian Ocean now, where, Michael told me, there is at least one huge storm per week this time of year.

Was that error in judgment/planning due to her age? I don't know; it seems to me that a 16-year-old could be capable of figuring something like that out, and it also seems to me that an inexperienced, unwise adult could make the same mistake. But I suppose the young age can make for a lack of both experience and wisdom. I know she was originally rushing because she was going for a world record, but fairly early on she knew she had lost the record to an Australian girl, and yet she still wanted to continue on with her trip. I imagine she wanted to finish what she had started, because it was just something she really wanted to do in her life. I can admire that. But she should have taken her time or chosen her route more carefully, for sure! Anyway, she's safe and on her way back home to Southern California...

As is my brave and adventurous (and cautious-when-it's-called-for) brother! His arrival in Newport Harbor is scheduled for July 3rd, and will be marked with what is sure to be a fabulous party at the Balboa Yacht Club. He has invited all of his friends with any kind of boat to meet him at the entrance to the harbor, and caravan with him through the harbor to the yacht club. It kills me that I won't be there!!! But he will be coming out to visit me about a month after he comes home... and I'm going to throw him one heck of a welcome party when he gets here :-)

Read, Play, Learn. With Confidence!

2010-06-01T08:17:00.001-07:00

A great piece in the New York Times about education was recently brought to my attention. It was about how misguided current educational policy is. It made some really great points about childhood learning, such as:

"developmental precursors don’t always resemble the skill to which they are leading. For example, saying the alphabet does not particularly help children learn to read. But having extended and complex conversations during toddlerhood does. Simply put, what children need to do in elementary school is not to cram for high school or college, but to develop ways of thinking and behaving that will lead to valuable knowledge and skills later on."

It goes on to specify what kids ought to have mastered by the time they're about 12:

"They should be able to read a chapter book, write a story and a compelling essay; know how to add, subtract, divide and multiply numbers; detect patterns in complex phenomena; use evidence to support an opinion; be part of a group of people who are not their family; and engage in an exchange of ideas in conversation. If all elementary school students mastered these abilities, they would be prepared to learn almost anything in high school and college."

It then describes an ideal 3rd-grade classroom, one that would foster the attainment of the goals stated above. Basically, there would be lots of time for reading, conversing, playing, and exploring, with a bit of time for writing (specifically, writing things that are actually meaningful to the child--stories, letters, cartoons, etc.) and basic math skills.

If school were really like that, I probably wouldn't be homeschooling! Actually, George did attend a school like that (and if you've read this blog for long or if you know George you surely know all about it), if all too briefly.... But in any case, this line of thinking pretty much mirrors my own, and the description of the ideal classroom is quite close to what I aspire to do with George's homeschooling days much of the time. (Apart from the times when he's taking a non-self-paced course and is devoting much of his time to one particular subject, that is.)

And I have to say, it's nice to see that point of view articulated and advocated, because even though most of the time I'm fairly confident about how I'm proceeding with George, it's still too easy for me to second-guess myself sometimes, and to feel like I ought to be making sure he has a lot more structured learning.

I wish I could have that old second-time confidence the first time around! I mean, I'm so much more relaxed with Ben, having been through all of this baby stuff before. It's not that I was an uptight mom with George; I really wasn't. And I very much followed my own instincts with him, even though they didn't exactly coincide with what I had been told or was being told about parenting (though that changed when I eventually discovered, many months into it, that what I was doing with him was actually a "thing," and it had a name: "attachment parenting"). But even though I knew deep inside of me that my parenting approach with George was what was right for him, there was still a level or a layer of self-doubt, however subtle.

This time around, with Ben, that's completely gone. And I don't miss it one bit! It's not just a matter of "this feels right to me"; it's that I've done it before, and I know it works. I wish I could bring that level and consistency of confidence to my directing of George's homeschooling, even though it's my first time through.

But I guess the trail has to be blazed first....

Neither the Baby nor the Band

2010-05-31T05:34:00.001-07:00

I thought it was time for at least a quick post about homeschooling, which hasn't been *entirely* lost in the shuffle these days....

As I've probably mentioned, in the afternoons George usually has some sort of activity (or two). MWF he has Tae Kwon Do, but he also has Shakespeare class on Mondays, homeshcool play group on Tuesdays, recorder lessons and "library/Barnes and Noble day" on Wednesdays, and cooking/pop culture class with best pal Laurie on Thursdays. He was doing Spanish and swim/gym at the YMCA on Friday afternoons, but we've cut that out since my 9th month of pregnancy--it was just too much!

Anyway, so afternoon is activity time, which leaves mornings for academics. And for the last two months, George has been focusing mainly on an online course he's been taking through Northwestern University's CTD (Center for Talented Development) called Computer Gaming Academy.

At the beginning, the weekly assignments were very brief and easy to complete in a few hours or so. When we had a crazy couple of weeks at home when George's play on campus was running and I was in the hospital having the baby, George and I agreed that he needed a little break from his online class, and his teacher readily agreed that it would be no problem for him to make up the work after his play was over. But there did turn out to be one slight problem: right at that time the assignments got a lot more intense, and he has been running to try to catch up ever since!

I'm not clear on all the details, because I'm barely supervising him in this class at all (although I have tried out most of the games he's made). When he's done online math or reading/writing classes, even though he always has an online instructor, I've usually been right there next to him, encouraging him to push himself and to check his work... and in some cases learning a thing or two myself. But computer gaming really isn't my cup of tea. (It's not that I don't appreciate a good computer game, but I couldn't be less interested in, or knowledgeable about, computer programming and such.) Not to mention the fact that I've been a bit preoccupied! So when he's gotten stuck, I've been completely unable to help him, apart from offering a bit of encouragement.

Anyway, he has been working very hard and enjoying it, and I'm glad, and I'm proud of his progress. But at the same time, I'll be glad when the course ends on Thursday--it's been eating up so much of his time and energy. I'll be happy not to feel the pressure of deadlines with him. It's been nice to have the structure of an academic class again, which I had kind of been missing since we had taken a break from math. I think it's very valuable for him to have that from time to time. But when does have it, it pretty much takes over, and takes away from other things that I think are also highly valuable, such as reading and creative play and writing stories.

Which brings me to the next thing I wanted to write about... but I'm afraid it's going to have to wait until later; time to get on with our day!

"Bad Girl": Song #3

2010-05-24T19:12:00.001-07:00

The third song we recorded was actually the first song I wrote. I mean, the first song I wrote to sing with the band, because I actually wrote another one before that, but that's another story for another time.

I wrote Bad Girl before I had even joined the band. It is semi-autobiographical. But the initial inspiration actually came from a TV show called Redemption Song, about these women with troubled pasts competing to win a recording contract. As I was watching it, I was just sort of thinking how there's a little "bad girl" in us all, in some way or other, and I was thinking about how it would be funny to write a song about that, to play with that concept a little bit. About how I'm so bad because I don't always keep up with my dishes, or balance my checkbook, or remember to shut the back door even in the winter (hey, I'm from California!)... that sort of thing. But how none of that matters to Bob--it's all good with him.

I say it's "semi-"autobiographical because a couple of things in the song are not based on me. I'm actually pretty good about RSVPing. In fact, I throw a lot of parties myself, and it's kind of a pet peeve of mine when friends don't bother to RSVP. (You know who you are, people!!! LOL). Also, my mom doesn't really think I'm a jerk. Plus, I would never leave the cap off the toothpaste. The rest of it's all me, though!

I wrote the words in the late fall of 2008. I think I was already singing a couple of songs with the band, and had been coming to practices, but I hadn't officially joined. Bob and I were married but weren't living together yet (we were taking it slow! Ha!); we were at his house and he picked up his guitar and we came up with a melody together. I remember we were rushing at the end because we had to drive back here for band practice. I'm pretty sure we were putting the finishing touches on the song in the car-ride back here. When we got to practice we told everyone we'd written a song, and we worked it up with the band right then.

We debuted the song in May 2009, at the first gig we did with me as a full-fledged band member, at a neat little cafe (that has since closed, unfortunately) called the River Muse. It got a great reaction from the crowd (most of whom were our friends); I was totally thrilled.

It got a slightly different reaction when we played it at a party where I didn't know any of the guests. It was clear that they hadn't really been listening to the lyrics during the verse, because when we got to the chorus ("I'm a bad, bad girl, now, Baby/What they say is pretty much true/I'm a very, very bad girl/but I'm oh so good... with you"), everyone looked sort of shocked and some people even looked a little uncomfortable. A few of the women even left the dance floor. I wanted to stop the song and tell them to listen more carefully to the lyrics! That I'm a bad girl because I don't balance my checkbook! Because I eat too much chocolate! I mean, yes, the song is definitely meant to have a sexy edge to it. But it's not a song about sleeping around.

After that I was careful to introduce the song properly--either by saying something along the lines of, "Before I sing this song I want to state for the record that I am a fine, upstanding member of this community" or by asking the crowd if there are any rebels out there, and then saying this song is for you. Or sometimes Sue, our keyboard player, will joke around before we start about how she has no idea why such a nice girl like me would write a song like this. Any one of those seems to do the trick! Because apart from that one time, this song has pretty much always scored big with the crowd....

So, all you rebels out there... give it a listen. I hope you like it.

Giving dairy-free a go

2010-05-24T13:44:00.000-07:00

The sweetest little baby in town has been having digestive discomfort. Pretty much from the get-go. He's so sweet and easygoing that he doesn't cry about it, but you can see that he's in discomfort quite often.

I gave up broccoli and onions and beans and such, but it wasn't having much effect. The doctor suggested trying Baby Mylicon, which we've been doing since Friday evening, but we haven't noticed much of an improvement. So, I decided it was time to bite the bullet and give up dairy to see if that makes a difference.

I don't know why I was resisting this so much; yes, cheese and yogurt are the staples of my diet. And the other day I bought some soy yogurt just to give it a try and I hated it. But yesterday when I was talking about it, George suggested I just replace cow cheese with goat cheese(s), and I felt both relieved (I really, really love cheese!) and stupid for having been so resistant to trying something that might make my baby feel better! Of course I'd do anything for him. What's doing without a little dairy for a while, especially when there really are so many alternatives?

So this morning, full of optimism and resolve, I headed to the most upscale grocery store in town (where I would find the biggest variety of non-dairy alternatives). I was feeling strong and brave, and decided to go with Ben but without Bob or George. For most of the trip, Ben slept peacefully in his car seat inside the grocery cart. But when I was nearly done, my baby-who-pretty-much-never-cries awoke with a start and began screaming his head off. Of course. What to do?

I could tell he was hungry. But I wasn't quite feeling brave enough to nurse him in the middle of the grocery store!

I opted to check out; I was pretty much done anyway. But I just couldn't leave him in his seat screaming his head off while I made my way across the entire store to the check-out, so I picked him up and held him, which definitely helped. The super-humanly loud screaming turned into mere fussing, much to my relief, but the downside was that he kept trying to suck on my neck whenever he got his mouth close enough! Plus it was very tricky to push the heavy cart with one hand while I held him with the other... but somehow I managed. Checking out with one hand was ok, but maneuvering the cart back across the uneven parking lot with one hand was another story. I really should have asked for some help with that from the employees. But you try thinking clearly when your baby is screaming in the middle of the grocery store.

When I got back to the car I quickly got everything unloaded from the cart, but wrenched something in my back in the process. UGH. I didn't fully throw out my back (which I have done many times in my life), but I'm taking it really, really easy; there's no telling if by tomorrow I'll be feeling fine or will be unable to move.

On a happier note, almond milk is delicious, as is raspberry-flavored soy yogurt!

Water Baby

2010-05-22T20:55:00.000-07:00

Yesterday Ben was 3 weeks old, and we had a great trip to the doctor. He has put on almost two pounds since birth! And has grown nearly an inch. Way to go, Baby Ben!

I was also happy because I was afraid the doctor was going to say I should try giving up dairy, because Ben has been having some gas discomfort/issues--but instead she recommended trying some baby gas drops. Whew.

The other really exciting thing to come out of the appointment was that we got the go-ahead to take him into our pool or hot tub whenever we want. The doctor said that actually, the sooner the better, because he will still remember floating around in the womb, and he'll be very comfortable in the water if we do it now. (She didn't recommend doing it in a public pool, though.) I asked her about safety and she said just make sure we don't get drunk and forget to pay attention to the baby. Um, ok! I think we can handle that! She also said we should really always have two adults present, just in case. Also very do-able. She also suggested checking out teach-your-baby-to-swim sites online.

You might be surprised that we were eager to try this, given Ben's history with baths. What can I say; we like to live dangerously. (Plus, we had a pretty good swim diaper for him.) And wow, how much fun it was! He absolutely loved it. I got in first and Bob handed him to me; Bob stayed out in case he hated it and wanted to get out right away. We needn't have worried about that. I put his little tootsies in first, then his legs, and still no complaints, so then I held him close to me and put him in up to his waist. He was loving it.

I remember hearing something about how babies can be taught to float on their backs, so I put both hands under him and lowered him into the water on his back, being very attentive of course in case he started to squirm. But he didn't squirm; he totally relaxed. And got his little bath-time half-smile on. I had one hand under his head/neck, and he seemed to be floating so well that I actually took the other hand away, so I was just holding him up with the one hand, and he kept floating, beautifully! And calmly, and happily. It was kind of amazing. I was surprised that he was that buoyant. Bob and I took turns holding him that way, sharing his blissful relaxation.

At one point we decided to try letting go of his head to see if he could float without any assistance at all. He couldn't. He sank down right away. Of course we pulled him right back up! Such a calm little guy; he didn't even cry. He looked surprised but not freaked out. So we went back to the one-handed float.

We didn't stay in too terribly long; we didn't want him to get overheated or anything. And what a cooperative boy: he waited until the moment I got him out of there to fill his diaper! I would not have minded if he had waited until I had dried him off and gotten him out of his swim diaper and into a regular one, but hey, I'm *not* complaining. It was mighty sporting of him to wait as long as he did:-)

Later I did a quick search on YouTube and found out that what we were doing was actually pretty much the right way to teach a baby to float. Here's a very cool video of a young baby floating.

In any case, I think this all bodes very well for a summer of family swim time!

More Bath-time Mishaps

2010-05-20T15:43:00.000-07:00

We've decided that Daddy is the bath-time jinx.

I've given Ben several uneventful baths since that famous first one. All without any, um, incidents whatsoever. Mostly with the help of big sis Lindsey.

But Lindsey wasn't around, and I thought Bob might like to try helping with another bath. After all, the last one we did together was so... memorable!

I lowered Ben into his little tub and right away he started to pee (which he really hasn't done since that first time). For a second I was trying to decide if it was worth changing the water right then, or maybe we should just change it quickly at the end... but then the little stream became a fountain that shot up and landed right in Ben's face! Crying bout number 1. No, I could not let that stand! So Bob lifted him up, and we concluded part 2 of the bath as quickly as possible, before any additional bodily functions could come into play.

While I was lifting Ben out of the bath, I noticed that Leo, one of our cats, was sort of running around by my feet where I was squatting. As I stood up to hand the baby off to Bob I looked down to make sure I didn't step on Leo, and what did I see but a little mouse scurrying under the bunched up bath mat!

I probably shrieked a bit as I told Bob to quick, give me back the baby and go after the mouse! He handed me Ben and I started backing up to get out of there and then the mouse, trying to evade Leo, scurried across my foot! Which made me jerk back, and bang poor little Ben's head into the wall!!! Crying bout number 2.

At that point Leo caught up with the mouse, grabbed it in his mouth, and headed up the stairs to the man cave. While Bob took off after them, I consoled and dried off my crying, but clean, little one. Whew.

I'm not even going to ask what's next!

"Don't Go Lookin' for Trouble" and "Why": Songs #1 and #2

2010-05-19T12:39:00.000-07:00

We finally have some recordings ready! A whole bunch of them at once, actually. I'm going to write about them one or two at a time, but if you click on any one of the band links in the sidebar (under "Voodoo Highway Links") you can listen to all 5 of them anytime. These are actually working drafts of the songs; we're still adding and re-doing parts. But we were eager to get at least something up on sites....

The first two we recorded, back in late February/early March, were "Don't Go Lookin' for Trouble" and "Why", which were both written last summer. Bob and I have co-written pretty much all of the songs, but the process hasn't been the same for each one. As for the lyrics: for some songs I've written most of the words and for some he has; sometimes we'll really contribute equally. As for the tunes, same thing. Sometimes for the lyrics I've written I'll have a tune in mind and he'll help me hammer it out on the guitar; sometimes I won't have any idea for a tune and he'll noodle around until we find something we're both feeling; sometimes he'll have a fully formed tune or set of riffs that we'll match up with some lyrics.

"Don't Go Lookin' for Trouble" was one of the songs where I wrote the lyrics, and we collaborated on the music. I say I wrote the lyrics, but they practically wrote themselves (I *love* it when that happens). In fact, I got the idea for the song when I was walking to my car from my office. By the time I got to my car in the parking lot I had the chorus written. On the 10-minute ride home I wrote two of the verses, and when I got home I raced upstairs to my laptop to write it all down before I forgot any of it, and then promptly wrote the third verse as well.

It's the second of two songs that are about a big fight Bob and I had! Just about a year ago or so. Now, listen, Bob and I hardly *ever* fight. Really. We get along so well that it's almost freaky. But every once in a great while, of course, we put on the boxing gloves, as it were, and go at it. It's usually all his fault. Ha. Kidding. Sort of. What happens when we have a disagreement is he's the one who generally gets more angry and reactive, and I just sort of give him some space until he cools down (and comes to his senses :-). While I was giving him that space during this particular fight, I decided that instead of just sitting around waiting and being annoyed I'd pass the time by writing a song about it. That song was "Why". I left the lyrics in the chorus vague enough that they could apply to any number of situations where your partner slips up or lets you down. It was actually a really fun and empowering experience to write about a fight, and I told Bob to go ahead and be a jerk whenever he wants. LOL

Anyway, Bob loved the lyrics and was happy I'd written them--we had at that point written I think 4 songs which we were performing regularly with the band, and he was very glad to have another one to work on. We didn't write the music right way, but set the lyrics aside, waiting for inspiration to hit.

Not long after that, I was at work, and found out about a situation where some people were gossiping about me. I didn't let it get to me too much, but of course I was not thrilled about it. And on my way to the car that afternoon when I was leaving, I started thinking about how some people just thrive on conflict and drama, and they really enjoy stirring up trouble. I've known people like that my whole life, as I'm sure we all have. They're just always looking for something to stir up. And I was asking myself what makes them that way, and the only thing I could come up with was that maybe it was something from their childhood. And that got me thinking about my mom, and how she used to tell me that you should always pay close attention to what you're looking for because whatever it is, you're bound to find it. So better to be on the lookout for happiness than for trouble. Which then led me back to thinking about the fight Bob and I had recently had (even though it was completely resolved by then), and about how it seemed to me that he had just been sort of looking for a fight with me, and how he'd eventually gotten what he was looking for.... And thus was another song written. The lyrics anyway.

When I called Bob on the phone to tell him about the new song, I prefaced it by saying that it wasn't about him or our fight, really, that it was just in general about people who stand in the way of their own happiness. But he laughed as I read him the lyrics, because we both knew that wasn't exactly the case! Good thing he's so good-natured and has such a great sense of humor, even about himself :-)

Ok, so fast-forward to early August, when we took a trip to Squam Lake, NH, where my sister rents a house on a tiny island every summer and sometimes invites me. It's really beautiful, and also really rustic, with no electricity. We decided to bring the (acoustic) guitars, because we thought it might be nice to play or even write a little music while we were there. Well, it ended up being an incredibly prolific few days for us. We spent much of the time in the lovely gazebo at one end of the island (see several pics below) and wrote a whole slew of songs there, including the music to these two.

A couple of weeks later it was our 1-year wedding anniversary, and we planned a Woodstock-themed celebration (it was also the 40th anniversary of Woodstock). We planned to go first to the town and then the concert venue, spending a day in between at a beautiful inn on a lake. Again we took the guitars with us.

At the inn we sat out on the dock at cocktail hour and ran through all of our new songs, editing/making several adjustments to most of them as we went. When we first got out there the dock was empty, but people began filling the tables during the time we were there. It's really not our style to force our music onto people, so we played quietly, but we also kinda figured if they were choosing to sit down near us they must not hate it! And in fact we got some very nice compliments (and inquiries about the band), which made us feel pretty good.

The next day we went to the Woodstock concert venue, and decided we'd play each of our new songs there as well, to absorb the Woodstock mojo. We sat down on the lawn right in front of where the stage was and started playing and singing, and sort of out of nowhere this really cool hippie appeared with a set of bongos, asking if he could join in with us. He said he'd been waiting there all weekend for someone to come play some music, but that no one else had come. We were more than happy to have him join us, of course. And it was a really neat experience sitting there on that summer day, playing our songs, soaking up the spirit of the place.

A little more on "Don't Go Lookin' for Trouble": my mom really did always used to tell me all of those things, when I was growing up. I wasn't always sure I agreed with her, but now that I'm older and wiser... I do think she's right that we generally find what we look for and get what we wish for, and all that (the law of attraction, before it became so in vogue!). One story she told me from her own youth to illustrate the "be careful what you wish for" thing made a pretty big impression on me. She said that in high school this boy had asked her to a dance and she had said yes, even though she didn't really want to go with him. From the time she agreed to go she started wishing that something would happen so that she wouldn't have to go. Well, on the day of the dance he actually got in an accident and broke his leg! So she got her wish, but felt pretty bad about it.

But I think the funniest part of the story of these two songs is how much our kids love them. When we're driving around town all together in the minivan the kids will often specifically request these songs, and they sing along with every word. Bob rolls his eyes and says, "Great; now I have to listen to my kids sing about what a jerk I am!" But of course I know he secretly loves it ;-)

The gazebo at Squam Lake, where we wrote a whole bunch of songs

Bob hard at work

Another shot of the gazebo... Don'tcha wish you were there right now?!

Ok, this really had nothing to do with the writing of these songs. I just liked the picture. Oh, yeah ;-)

The whole crew at Squam, in front of whom we debuted the songs. (They all joined in on percussion with pots, pans, and wooden spoons.)

Our day in Woodstock, the town. We had our guitars and were going to play our songs on a street corner but decided it was just too darn hot out. It's not that we were chicken or anything.

On the dock at the Chestnut Inn, where we edited the songs and played them for the first time in front of people we weren't related to.

Me on the dock at the inn.... What a fun anniversary weekend this was!

The Woodstock concert venue. The grey area down the hill off to my right was the site of the original stage.

At the front edge of where the stage was, looking up at where the masses were.

My turn to feel like a mega star of 1969

This guy came out of nowhere, almost as if we'd hallucinated him. But we have this picture, so it obviously was *not* the brown acid. LOL

For Sale, Cheap: Very Lightly Used Binky

2010-05-18T08:22:00.000-07:00

I have just conducted a pacifier experiment. It failed miserably.

With George, I was pretty militantly anti-pacifier. I figured if he was fussing, he was hungry or needed to be changed or held, and I wasn't going to try to substitute a pacifier for any of those things. Plus, I had seen kids freak out when they dropped their pacifier on the ground, screaming and sobbing while their parents frantically washed (or just wiped, if there was no sink nearby) it off as quickly as they could--I kind of figured, why create a dependency like that? Then there was the matter of weaning them off of it when they hit a certain age, if they hadn't dropped the habit on their own. Plus, I had heard a vague theory that pediatric dentists were opposed to them. Honestly, it just all seemed like a bad idea to me.

The second time around I am, predictably, feeling a bit more relaxed about everything. My kid's nursery is in the bathroom, for crying out loud! (No, we don't make him sleep in there, as I'm sure I've mentioned.) What got me thinking about pacifiers this time was that Ben seems to have some gastrointestinal issues--I don't think it's anything serious, but he gets gassy sometimes and he also spits up a fair amount, at least compared to what George did. When Ben is obviously having gas pains, he often acts like he wants to nurse, even if he's just eaten a very full meal. He'll be all squirmy and fussy and will nurse furiously, only to spit most of it right back up. It seems that he wants the comfort more than the food. So in the interests of saving myself the trouble, I started looking into pacifiers.

The consensus among both my friends and most sources on the internet (see for example, the informative "Pacifiers: They don't suck as much as you thought") was that if used properly, pacifiers can be a perfectly legitimate parenting tool, even for parents who aren't planning on abandoning their baby all day in a playpen.

So off we went to Toys-R-Us, to get some more burp cloths (the 6 or 7 I had saved from when George was a baby just weren't enough for this one) and a "Mam" nuk, which had been recommended in particular for breastfed babies by a friend's pediatrician.

It was with slightly mixed feelings that I popped it into his mouth last night, after he was certainly fully fed but was still fussing a bit. I couldn't help feeling a bit like I was cheating, or taking the easy way out, but I pushed all of that aside.

At first he was happy to be getting something in his mouth, but his look of hopefulness soon turned to one of almost disgust as he realized it wasn't what he was expecting. Still, he didn't spit it out. And after probably about 30 seconds the look of disgust/confusion was gone and he was happily sucking away and drifting off to sleep. Score! I settled in myself for what was sure to be a long stretch of sleep.

Only it wasn't. I awoke to the sounds of his fussing and I saw that the pacifier had fallen out of his mouth. So now I'm thinking, am I creating a dependency here? But I was so sleepy I decided not to care, and put it back in. Same look of confusion and disgust on his part, but followed again very quickly by peaceful sucking and drifting back to sleep.

When I awoke to his fussing a couple of hours later, I figured it was feeding time again... and OW! OW! What did he think I was, a pacifier or something?! Clearly, yes. I soldiered on and finished the feeding, and when he was still fussing after over an hour of it, I went against my best judgment and tried the nuk again, hoping that this little chomping problem was just a fluke.

Well, it wasn't. And the rest of the night was quite miserable (for me, anyway).

So, alas, the great pacifier experiment has failed. Oh well; I did get one really nice two-hour stretch of sleeping--and later, a funny photo op--out of it.

Bath-time Adventures (etc.) with Baby Ben

2010-05-13T21:28:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow Baby Ben will have been with us for two pretty amazing weeks. I have lots to say about him, but much of the time I'm trapped underneath him and can't reach the keyboard with both hands :-) My recovery has been slower than anticipated in some respects (I have not been in much pain at all--just very weak), but I'm not complaining, because there's really nowhere else I'd rather be than resting in bed with the sweetest little baby around.

In addition to being totally adorable, he's also very easygoing, which is *great*. He does not cry much at all, and he's a good sleeper, often sleeping for 3-hour stretches or even a little longer. Of course he makes up for those blocks of time by being very hungry afterwards, but that's all going pretty well, too.

I have to say that I'm finding everything a lot easier the second time around! George was a really good/happy baby, too, so it's not that. Well, it's partly that my life is a lot better now in some very important ways than it was 10 years ago. Everything was sort of crashing down around me when George was born: my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer the very day he was born; soon thereafter George's dad lost his job and it looked very much like I was going to lose mine, plus our relationship wasn't super stable; my physical recovery from the birth was slower and more painful than it should have been; I had a painful skin cancer in my ear.... So when, in those insanely difficult weeks (which stretched out into months), lightning struck a tree right in front of my house, knocking out power and phone lines to my house alone, well, you can see why I was feeling like the universe had it in for me! Ten years later, the story is quite different. I'm very happily married and stably employed, and everyone seems to be in good health (knock on wood)....

But on top of that, it's just easier having been through all of this before. The incredible changes that your body goes through, which I found so disconcerting last time (of course that was compounded by all of the uncertainty all around me); the lack of sleep; the sudden and almost total loss of any personal time and space (which you know about going into it, but you might not realize how overwhelming it can be); even things like having to inhale your own dinner in between baby feedings.... It's just so much easier to keep it all in perspective this time. Having been through it once I *know* these things don't last, and it makes it easier not to be overwhelmed by it all, and also to settle in and relish all of the good parts. Really, if I had known how much easier pretty much every aspect of this would be the second time around, I don't know if I would have waited 10 whole years to do it again!

Back to Baby Ben... We're convinced he's some sort of prodigy, because he turned himself over--back-to-front, no less--when he was two and a half days old. And he's almost smiling already... he came really close yesterday when he had his first bath (more on that in a minute), and it seriously looked like he smiled at Bob twice this evening. Plus, he gained over three ounces during his first week, when breast-fed babies are expected to lose 7-10% of their total weight; I'm feeling a bit proud of myself on that one!

On the less exciting side, he snores and doesn't seem to tolerate onions very well! Hoping that won't last.

So, his first bath was kind of classic. We have this little tub that has a sort of hammock built in to it (one of our cats seemed convinced it was his new cat bed). So we filled up the tub with warm water, and lowered Ben into it... and this look of wonder and rapture spread across his little face! It was so sweet. He seemed to be feeling such joy at having recovered the experience of being in water. He was, as I said, really almost smiling. He was so relaxed that--you guessed it--he peed. So, Bob lifted him up, I dumped out the bath and refilled it, and we started over again. Take two. And it happened again, right away. Ok, so same thing, we dump it out and start again; take three. We're thinking he ought to be good to go now. He's got the same rapturous look on his face. He opens his little mouth as if to smile, and... out comes the spit-up. A lot. Ok. So, Bob lifts him up again (and Ben really has to be wondering why we keep putting him in this wonderful warm water but then lifting him back up into the air!), I rinse and refill the tub; take four. We put him back in and now we're really sure he's good to go. I even take a minute to go get my camera, since we know we should be recording his first bath for posterity.

I start the recording, narrating how it's his first bath, and how we've had three mishaps but won't dwell on those because look-how-content-he-is-and-how-great-everything-is-going, and I'm zooming in on his adorable, happy little face when all of a sudden we hear... you guessed it again... the sound of a big ole baby poop being let loose. Oh noooooo! We laughed and laughed as we cleaned up and got ready for take 5, thinking about all the fun we'll have showing this video in the future if there ever should arise an occasion when we want to embarrass him ;-)

Our little water baby

Happy baby (and mama!)

All clean (whew), and all tuckered out

Baby Ben is here!

2010-05-05T10:26:00.000-07:00

Baby Ben has finally arrived, and boy was he worth the wait. I'm totally enthralled, as is the rest of the family. I have so much to say about him already, but I'm going to start with the birth story, by popular demand. Quit reading now if you're not interested in such things.

So, we arrived at the hospital as scheduled, bright and early last Thursday morning. The plan was this: if he had turned himself back around, we'd do a regular-old-induction. If he was still breech or transverse, we wouldn't mess around with trying to turn him, but would go right for the C-section. It was kind of my way of letting him decide which way he wanted to enter the world.

We registered downstairs at the hospital before heading up to the maternity wing, and when I got up from the registration desk, the baby started to shift in a big way. I wasn't sure he was actually turning himself around, but he was definitely on the move. Not long afterwards we were settled into the room and they got out the ultrasound machine... and lo and behold, he had indeed turned himself around! I honestly felt a little thrown by this, because I had so geared myself up for a C-section. No labor, no pushing, no indescribably excruciating pain going on and on and on (and on...). And sure, you end up with your stomach cut open, but you're pretty much likely to end up cut or torn open the other way, too. Anyway, whatever--it's not that I was totally hoping for a C-section! It's just that it had already been such a roller coaster ride up to that point, and it felt like every time I wrapped my mind around a plan the plan changed, and I was just getting kind of... overwhelmed and exhausted from it all. Little did I know how much more of that was in store for me at that point!

Ok, so, they hooked me right up to the pitocin, and almost immediately I started up with regular contractions. Every two minutes, right on the money. They were mild, but the dosage was low, so we all took this as a great sign, figuring they'd increase beautifully with the dosage. We started placing bets on when the baby would be born. Noon? Three? Four? Whatever; we knew it would be very soon. In the meantime, we passed the time watching a Brady Bunch marathon on TVLand, which felt sort of appropriate, since Bob and I both grew up on that show, and also family and friends have joked, more than once, that we're the new Brady Bunch....

They made me fast all day, and made me walk the halls with my mobile IV and in my hospital gown (which made me feel like a nursing home patient), and even had me bouncing on this gigantic ball, which made me feel quite silly. But I didn't care--I was so excited that we were finally going to meet little Ace, face-to-face.

But my body seemed to have other plans. They cranked that pitocin up on me all day long, and NOTHING. The contractions stayed mild, and I was not even the slightest bit dilated. The doctor said if nothing had happened by about 4pm we'd re-evaluate. Well, by 4pm the contractions were still so mild I was barely tensing up, and I was still all sealed up like Fort Knox. I was quite distraught! I hadn't anticipated that the pitocin wouldn't do anything! Was I ever going to have this baby?

The doctor said if I really had had enough, she'd give me the C-section, but she was recommending taking the night to go with a few applications of cytotec, a suppository that is supposed to make you dilate and get you more ready for labor. In fact, I had the cytotec with George, and it slammed me right into labor, which apparently it does in rare cases. I was pretty much sure that that's what would happen this time, and the doctor agreed it was highly likely. So, we decided we'd go ahead and give it a try, and then if I still wasn't in labor by the morning we'd go for the C-section.

They let me have a little dinner (hospital food never tasted so good) and gave me a sleeping pill so I could get at least a few hours of sleep before my body kicked into labor, which we were pretty sure would happen in the wee hours of the morning.

Except it didn't. By 8am, I had gotten a very nice night's sleep (thanks to the Ambien), but still no labor! I couldn't believe it. However, I had now dilated (drumroll, please) 1 (one, uno, un) centimeter. 24 hours on labor-inducing drugs, and that's all my body had for me. One centimeter. Oh, yes, and still the very, very, very mild contractions (I couldn't really even feel them, but they were showing up on the monitor). Still, it was progress. Soooo, we decided we'd go for one last day of pitocin, and if I hadn't had the baby or at least gone into some further stage of labor by the afternoon, *then* we'd do the C-section!

Back on the pitocin, for one hour... two hours... and still nothing. I was really starting to get discouraged, and was wishing I had opted for the C-section 24 hours earlier! What was the deal? Did this baby just not want to be born?

It was at that point that my husband suddenly figured it all out. He told me that he thought I needed to give my body permission to go into labor. That it wasn't that this baby just didn't want to come out, that it was more that my body was just refusing to go into labor, because it was so traumatic for me last time.

Wow, when he said it, it really clicked. I just knew he was right. As soon as I heard that I tried to grant myself that permission by visualizing it happening, but I really couldn't! Every time I tried to see it happening it was just a complete and total blank, except for a feeling of absolute terror.

I know women have been giving birth since the beginning of people, obviously, and that many, many women have done it multiple times, and that some women even don't mind it. But for me, the last time, it was--well, I don't really want to dwell on it, but let's just say it was beyond traumatic. Unspeakably painful. Inconceivably so. It took me a very long time to recover physically, and mentally/emotionally I obviously still had not recovered. I'm pretty sure I had some sort of PTSD from it, which had remained at least partly unresolved. Seriously, I was terrified. And I was pretty sure that terror was holding me back in a significant way.

Whether the simple acknowledgment of the problem was enough or the cranking up of the pitocin was finally having some sort of effect, at about that point my water broke. It was the coolest thing, actually! I felt the baby drop in there all of a sudden (did I mention he had still been riding *totally* high up to that point?), and then whoosh. The reason I found it to be so cool was that my body was finally doing something to cooperate with this whole plan. It was finally responding. It felt like the sign I had been waiting and waiting for that this was going to happen!

The bad news was there was meconium in the water. If you're squeamish and you're still reading, stop now! Meconium is the baby's first bowel movement, which they usually take in their first 24 hours after being born. The doctors don't like it if the baby takes it while still in the womb, because it can put the baby in distress (it can get in their little lungs). But his heart rate was ok and everything seemed fine, so no rush to a C-section just yet anyway.

Soon after my water broke the contractions started getting stronger, which again, I found very encouraging. Weird to be wanting/waiting for/welcoming pain, but that's just the deal. As the contractions increased, I asked the nurse if she wanted to check to see how dilated I was, and she told me she'd check in a few hours. Hold up: a few hours? I was going to have this baby within a few hours, thankyouverymuch. I wanted to be checked because I did NOT want to miss my window for the all-important epidural that I did not get to have the last time, but this time was GOING. TO. HAVE. At all costs.

I had been talking to my doctor about an epidural pretty much since I had met her, way back in September. She had assured me, repeatedly and in front of witnesses (my mom and Bob) that I could have my epidural WHENEVER I WANTED IT. She does not believe in making women wait for it if they know they want it, especially if they're on pitocin at the time. She had told me this flat out, and I was banking on it. In fact it was pretty much the only thought that was getting me through my absolute terror. And there was NO WAY that I was going to miss my window for it, and I told the nurse as much.

Once the contractions started increasing, they started getting very intense very quickly. Still the nurse refused to check me (they don't want to over-check especially once the water has broken, for fear of infection). But I could tell I was suddenly progressing quickly, and was further along than she thought I was, and I told her so. I mean, I had been through this before! I told her that, too. She told me not to worry, that she'd make sure I got my epidural. But I was worried.

Anyway, I had been walking around the room and bouncing on that darned ball, because that was what they told me would move things along. And when the contractions got really strong, actually the most comfortable position I could find was sitting on that ball, leaning way forward. Except they couldn't get a read on my contractions when I was that way, so they told me I had to get back in bed and lie down so they could get a good contraction pattern going. I didn't like this idea one bit, because when I was in bed before I could feel the contractions much more strongly, and they were, at this point, *quite* intense and painful. But I agreed.

As I lay there, they got really bad. REALLY bad. Like, approaching the point where I really couldn't handle it. I told the nurse that I wanted my epidural, and I wanted it now. I told her that my doctor had PROMISED me I could have it WHENEVER I WANTED IT, and that I was NOT making that up. (Actually, I had already told her that, but I told her again, with great emphasis and insistence.) The nurse clearly thought I was delusional, though she told me she believed me. But she added that I had to be at least 3cm dilated, that they had to follow these guidelines, that it was their policy or something. I told her a) that's not what my dr. said, and b) to go ahead and check me because I was thinking I probably was that dilated by now. She thought I'd gone off the deep end and tried to calm me down. She also told me that the epidural doesn't work completely on everyone, which I knew but thought was just kinda cruel of her to bring it up! It made me start crying and telling Bob that I didn't think I could do this, that I really didn't want to do this, that I hated it and why-hadn't-I-had-the-C-section, etc. etc.

My crying seemed to have gotten her attention at least a little bit, because she told me she'd go get me something for the pain. I said all I wanted was the epidural, but she said this other thing would help, so I let her go.

The second she was out the door I grabbed my phone and pulled up my doctor's number, and thrust the phone at Bob, telling him he *had* to call her and tell her I needed my freaking epidural NOW!

I was afraid the office wouldn't put him through to the doctor (they never let you talk to the dr.), but I guess the magic words are "My wife is in labor right now", so they put him through. He told her: "My wife's water broke, she's in labor, and if she doesn't get her epidural soon I think she's going to kill someone." Atta boy, Bob! My hero!!! The doctor said of course, she'd call the nurses right away.

I couldn't take lying down anymore, and frankly I'd had it with these nurses and their contraction patterns and their no-epidurals-until-we-say-so, so I just got up, which I knew would help at least a little bit. Bob tried to stop me, but I barked that I was not going to let some 20-something who had never been through this herself tell me what to do when I knew what I needed!

Let me state for the record that I actually really liked the nurse. I really did! She was kind of a hippie-chick with a nose ring and a really up-beat demeanor, and was really into the whole visualization thing when we'd talked about it. I had taken an instant liking to her when I'd met her in the morning. And I thought it was awesome that our little rock-and-roll baby had arranged to arrive during the shift of such a cool nurse. But this was a whole new thing at this point. This was just about showtime. This was my labor and it was going to go my way!

Anyway, the nurses came back in with the other medication and their promises that it would make me feel better right away. It was kind of awkward to have to tell them that we had just called the doctor and she was ordering the epidural right then. I could tell they were a bit taken aback that we had gone over their heads like that, and I did not like having any awkwardness added to the mix right then, but what-are-ya-gonna-do. Anyway, I guess this other drug wasn't going to interfere with the epidural and I was pretty much out-of-my-mind with pain at that point so I really didn't question it. And in fact, whatever it was (I still don't know), it was great. It did take the edge off. They made me get back on the bed because they said it would make me dizzy (which it did), but they didn't make me lie down, thank goodness. They did check me for dilation at that point and guess what? I was nearly 3cm. How 'bout that.

Very soon thereafter, the anesthesiologist arrived. The skies opened up and a chorus of angels rang out a Hallelujah. While he was inserting the needle I had to stay still for quite a lengthy time (I mean, staying still at all when you're in excruciating pain will feel like a lengthy time), and I did feel a sense of pride when he praised me for staying so still, telling me I was in the top 10% for not moving. Ever the achiever!

Once the epidural kicked in, I was hugely relieved. The unbearable pain stopped. However, the pain did not stop altogether. I did still feel the contractions and they were pretty uncomfortable. I started to cry again, partly out of relief that I finally had it, partly out of exhaustion from having had to fight so hard to get it, and probably mostly out of fear that when I got to the pushing part it would hurt really badly again. Bob was my rock, and helped me get through that little breakdown.

Finally I was able to relax--so much so, in fact, that I felt I might even be able to drift off to sleep. Now *this* was the way to be in labor! The nurses left me hooked up to the monitors and said they'd be keeping a close eye on them from their station down the hall.

The baby's heartbeat was lulling me to sleep. Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Ba-boom.

And then suddenly, a pause. I jerked to full attention. It started right back up again, but in just a few seconds the nurses came rushing back in and announced that they needed to check me to see if it could be time for me to push. Nine and a half centimeters! We were ready to roll!

I pushed for a total of about an hour and 15 minutes or so, I *think*. I can't remember when exactly the doctor arrived, but I was definitely glad to see her. She had ordered some extra equipment to be in the room because of the meconium, but there had been a shift change with the nurses and the equipment wasn't there. I could tell she was not happy about that and seemed to be kind of worried, but I was just so happy that I was pushing and could feel enough to push but not really enough for it to hurt that it didn't really register. Also I had said something when she got there along the lines of how earlier I had been wishing I had gone for the C-section after all but that it was too late now. She sort of hesitated, as if to say "Not so fast, it could still come to that," and said something like "Well, right, um, we'll see." Whatever. I was so happy that the pushing was going so well--I wasn't going to let anything freak me out or spoil my mood!

But at a certain point it became clear that everything was not ok. It was kind of a blur, but something about the baby's heart rate was dropping significantly with each contraction, and also the worry about the meconium... She started talking about a vacuum and said something about how if that didn't work we might have to even take the next step (which was pretty clearly the C-section). WHAT? WHAT? I had NOT come all this way to have things go wrong now.

She told me I had two more pushes to try, and then she was going to have to intervene. The next push after she told me that I was gearing up to give it everything I had, except then I just burst into tears. I was so worried about my little baby! It was an awful feeling! I couldn't bear to think of him in any kind of danger! Anyway, I pulled myself together and gave the next one every last bit of everything I had, and thank heavens, it was enough. Out he came, my beautiful, precious baby, crying and breathing and everything. They laid him right on my chest and oh-my-goodness, words can only gesture at the sense of relief I felt.

The doctor held up the cord and said it was the longest cord she had ever seen. No wonder he was able to move all around in there, she said!

Pretty soon after they put him on me, they had to take him back and put him on the warmer table next to me, to suction (not vacuum, just suction with the little manual suction thing) him all out to remove as much meconium and fluid as they could get to. This whole process took quite awhile, but I didn't care. I was busy feeling intense relief!

Once he was all cleaned up and given the ok, and was back on my chest, and my mom and Bob's mom and the three kids had come in to meet him and take some pictures and had gone again, I went on this amazing high. I have never felt anything like it. Wow. Wow.

I had heard about women getting a high from a newborn, but I don't know if I really believed it. When I had George, ten years ago, I was filled with an incredible sense of love for him, right away, for sure. I was amazed by him and couldn't get enough of him and thought he was a miracle, the best thing ever. But at the same time, I felt like I'd been beaten senseless and left for dead by the side of the road. Which as you might imagine kind of put a damper not on my feelings for my perfect new baby, but on my mood in general. So I really did not understand this whole newborn high thing.

But this time, I got it. And I was so happy! I was so happy I was getting to experience how great it can be! People had told me that giving birth could be a beautiful thing, but I had always thought "Yeah, for everyone but the mother"--I thought that for the mother it was just truly barbaric. Barbaric, I tell you! But I could see now that it really can be beautiful, and wow, what a feeling. The only thing that made me the slightest bit sad was that Bob and I hadn't started early enough that we could make ten more of these enchanting little creatures.

I stayed up almost the whole night, just holding him and gazing upon him. And I have pretty much been on cloud 9 ever since.

A quick photo-tour of the two-day event...

Me, feeling like a nursing home patient. Bingo, anyone?

It's always a good time for a Brady Bunch marathon.

Bob, on the infamous ball.

Come on, the ball is just too funny to resist. This is my mom having a turn on it.

Our priest came by Thursday evening to bless the baby. Only there was no baby just yet.

Day two (or three, if you count Tuesday, and why wouldn't you, really?!):
Me and my new favorite drug.

Mama with Baby Ben (8 lbs 5 oz, 21 1/2 inches of pure beauty and joy).

Wow, we have four kids!

The grandmas

Me and my boys

Looks like mama's not the only one on a "newborn high"!

Baby bliss :-)

Letter to Ace, the night before his birth

2010-04-28T18:56:00.000-07:00

Dear Ace,

Tomorrow you will join us out here in the world! You've given us quite a crazy couple of days here, but I truly don't mind:-) It's been a wonderful pregnancy--relatively free of problems, and quite full of love and joy.

I'm sure you'll hear many times how you got the nickname of Ace. We were quite certain that you were going to be a girl, and had your name picked out from the get-go (Alexandra). Well when they called to tell us that you were a boy (we had some genetic/chromosomal testing done in NYC early on, because of my "advanced maternal age" and all, so the lab called with the results a few days later when we were back home), we were completely shocked, and had absolutely no idea what to name you. We all went out to Friendly's, and I started surfing the web on my Blackberry, looking for baby name sites. The first one that popped up had, as about the 3rd or 4th name, Ace. Ace? I said. Ace? Is that really a name? We thought it was so funny and cute that we decided we'd start calling you that. We eventually settled on Ben (Benjamin) as the name we are probably actually going to give you. But I'll be surprised if you never get called Ace.

You are being born into a busy, loving household. Your parents are crazy about each other, and couldn't be happier about your arrival. Your siblings are also thrilled. And although we all feel quite connected to one another already, you are going to give us all an extra bond. Yet another way that we are all connected. And I love that. You also give me another bond with your daddy's whole side of the family, and your daddy another bond with my side of the family, which feels wonderful.

You won't really have a room of your own, but I hope you won't mind. In fact, we've been joking that your nursery is the bathroom, which is actually only sort of a joke--the bathroom is *huge* and had lots of wasted space, so we put up a wall and put your changing table in there, and put your clothes in the big built-in cabinet and drawers. But of course we're not actually going to make you sleep in there:-) At first you'll sleep with your daddy and me, and then you'll move into your big sister Lindsey's room. When she gets ready to have her own room again, she and your oldest brother, Brad, will switch rooms (his room is on the third floor, and we don't want you all the way up there when you're little!). But we'll leave that timing up to her.

Lindsey is soooo excited about you. She talks about you all the time. She can't wait to take you to the park, and take you on walks, and change your clothes and even change your diapers. She's often sort of the odd-man out around here, because your big brothers George and Brad are often playing older-boy games that don't interest her. So she really can't wait to have someone else in the family to play with! When you get a little older she'll push you on the swings, and run around with you outside, and play ball with you, and maybe eventually help you learn to ride a bike and stuff like that.

George is also really, really happy that you are coming. He already loves you so much! He hugs my belly and kisses it and talks to you through it. He is always figuring out how old you'll be when he's various ages (he's almost exactly 10 years older than you), and has it all planned that when he's in his 20s and you're in your teens he's going to take you on vacations with him. He's very excited about teaching you how to read, and teaching you all kinds of things--he wants to homeschool you himself (unless you *want* to go to school, he always adds). Except for kindergarten--he wants you to go to the kindergarten he went to and have the awesome teacher that he had. It's just down the street from us and you might really like it. But there's plenty of time to figure that out! In the meantime, you'll have in George just about the best tutor I could imagine.

And he's going to be an awesome big brother. He's been waiting to be a big brother for a long, long time now. Since he was 4, actually, when I tried to adopt a little girl from Mexico. We got all approved (which was quite the long process) and put on the waiting list, but then they never called us with a placement. We were pretty disappointed, but now we know--we were waiting for *you*, all along!!!

I, too, was born to a busy, blended, loving household, with three older siblings, and it was awhile before I had my own room. But I never minded. In fact, I used to love sharing a room with any one of my siblings. I was much younger than they are, as you will be with your siblings, and I really loved it. I had a fabulous early childhood. I remember that there was always a pair of arms outstretched to me whenever I wanted a hug. There was always someone to teach me something or to read to me or to take me to the playground (or the beach, which you won't exactly have, but hey, we've got the pool for at least a few months out of the year!).... My oldest brother Michael, your Uncle Metro (who is currently sailing around the world, but is going to come visit you this summer), used to love to teach me all kinds of random things that I used to love walking around spouting. And your Aunt Melissa taught me the alphabet one night--I remember I had had a bad dream and was going down the hall to see my mommy, but I only made it as far as Melissa's room, and she snuggled up with me and taught me the alphabet to give me something else to think about besides my bad dream, to make me feel better. I remember that it totally worked. Anyway, my point is, although your siblings will all be so much older it could end up working out really, really well for you, as it did for me!

You have three cats waiting at home for you. I'm hoping that two of them will love you, but I'm pretty sure that one of them, Lucy, is not going to like you one bit. On the day that I brought George home from the hospital and had set him on the bed next to me, Lucy jumped up on the bed, happy to have me home, until she suddenly spied this little creature next to me. She gave me a look I'll never forget, that said very clearly, "You have GOT to be kidding me. What in the HELL is that thing, and WHAT is it doing on our bed?!" She hissed at him, and has hissed at him ever since, pretty much every time he walks by her. Which is why I got two more kitties, Coco and Leo, because George was getting such a bad impression of animals in general! Coco and Leo are Ragdolls and are supposed to be super-affectionate and love everyone, and they *sort* of are/do. But we'll see how they react to a new baby!

Your daddy and I have fun trying to imagine what you'll be like. You seem to love music already, especially rockin' music, and especially rockin' guitar solos. It almost seems like you recognize your daddy's guitar, because you respond to it so markedly! It's really sweet. We think you might end up being a guitar player. But don't worry; we won't be disappointed if you don't! We mostly just can't wait to meet you, and to get to know you here on the outside, and to see how you grow and develop. You will always have a special connection to our music, though, especially to the album we've been recording, because more than half of the songs were written either right before you were conceived or while I was pregnant with you, and several of them have been recorded during the pregnancy. Plus many of them were performed for the first time while I've been pregnant with you. We had a pretty active gigging schedule right up through the seventh month! (So clearly, it was a pretty good pregnancy, if I could swing that:-)

Plus, you are our little Woodstock baby, conceived right around our Woodstock-themed anniversary. (Won't it be funny if you grow up to be uptight and conservative! Ha! You better not! Just kidding. Sort of. :-)

What else to tell you? Well, I started knitting you a baby blanket, as I did for George when I was pregnant with him. Only I didn't finish his until he was about 3, no longer a baby! And in fact I was on track for the same with yours, but my friend Jacqui offered to finish it up for me. So you'll get to use it while you're actually a baby. It's soft and blue and has a diamond pattern on it. You also have another really soft, blue blanket with a heart pattern that we'll use with you a lot--our next-door neighbor Mary knitted it for you.

You will have extended family both near and far, which is great. Your Grandma Jane and Grandpa Bill live about 40 minutes away, and you'll get to see them a lot. My mom lives far away, in California, but that's fun, too, because we get to go visit her there. You also have uncles and aunts and cousins in various places that are lots of fun to visit.

And, you are being born into a neighborhood of people who will love you! We really are lucky to have so many amazing people as friends and neighbors. You'll see; we are really part of a community here, and I'm sure you'll love it. I had that in my early childhood in California, and I remember loving running back and forth to different neighbors' houses, feeling so at home everywhere I went. I also remember how sad I was when we moved away from that to Northern Virginia, and the neighborhood just didn't have that same kind of friendly openness. But this one sure does, and I just know you'll love it. We also have a great community of homeschooling families that we are getting closer to all the time, and I know you'll have lots of wonderful connections with them as well.

My sweet little baby boy... I've got to call it a night, because you and I both have a very big day tomorrow. I so can't wait to meet you. I do kind of wish there were an easier way for you to transition from the place where you are now to the outside world! But no matter--soon you'll be here in our arms and that's the important thing. Here's wishing you an easy and non-traumatic entry into the world, Ace. I know I already said it, but I really can't wait to meet you, this little person that's been growing inside of me and kicking me in the rib and dancing when I play Johnny Cash on the guitar or when I sing or when Bob plays just about anything on his guitar. You've already filled all of our lives with so much joy. I can only imagine how much joy you'll bring us when you join us out here!

Love,
Mom

Flips, False Starts, and Granola Bars

2010-04-28T00:22:00.000-07:00

I really, really should be asleep. But who can sleep with all of this craziness... (not I, clearly). What a day yesterday.

It started at about 6am, when I awoke in a panic because the baby was hardly moving compared to before. I mean, he was still moving a little, and I know it's normal for him to decrease his movements in the final stretch, since there's so much less room for him in there, but it just felt like such a sudden and marked decrease.... But he definitely *was* moving some, so I chalked it up to some not-fully-awake-over-reacting, although I was very glad that I'd be seeing my doctor later.

Later in the morning, I finally packed my bag for the hospital, as I knew there was a chance that the doctor would decide at my appointment that the baby should come out. After all, she kind of wanted to take him out last week. But the plan was that if everything looked stable we'd wait until Thursday, and my intuition was telling me that's when it was going to be. Bob was thinking the same thing (in fact, he hadn't packed his bags yet, and from what I could tell wasn't going to until Wednesday. Fine; we were pretty sure he wasn't coming yet). ANYway...

I had made plans to have an early lunch with both my mom (who's in town from CA for the birth) and my mother-in-law at a nice little cafe; after that my mom and I would head straight to the doctor for my appointment. Lunch was lovely and I felt really happy for the baby, that he's going to have two such wonderful women as his grandmas.

After lunch my mom and I made a quick stop by a great little toy store that is near the cafe, and the strangest thing happened--even though it was sunny, and not really all *that* cold, and April-freaking-27th, it started to snow. Weird. It briefly crossed my mind that I was glad he wasn't going to be born today. I guess I was just feeling a little (uncharacteristically) superstitious or something, but it just seemed too odd to me.

At the appointment, we started with a non-stress test, as usual these days, to check Ace's heart rate. It was fine, but still he wasn't moving much. They did the little noise zapper, which last time made him go crazy, but he only moved for a minute or two, and even then, not all that much. The doctor came in and said his heart rate looked ok, but she was thinking we should just go ahead with the induction today. TODAY? TODAY?

Ok, you might be thinking... what's the big difference, an induction on Tuesday or on Wednesday night/Thursday morning? What difference was one more day going to make? My bag was packed; all I had to do was to call Bob and tell him to bring it on over. But for some reason I was just having a very hard time wrapping my mind around this one.

The doctor ordered another ultrasound, which she said would help us decide--we could probably see better why the baby wasn't moving so much, check the fluid, and all that. So I called Bob and told him to pack his bag and get mine and Ace's ready, and be ready to head on over, pending a later update.

They sent my mom and me back to the waiting room, because there was a long backlog of patients waiting for (last-minute/previously unscheduled) ultrasounds. So, we sat. And we sat. And I tried to get used to the idea that the baby was probably coming in a few hours. Eeeek! Eeeeek! Okay!

By this time it was already after 3:00; the non-stress had taken a long time, and they weren't kidding about the backlog. Woman after woman was called in for an ultrasound. Finally it was my turn. All the technicians in this office are super-nice, but it happened to be my favorite one who called me in. I took this as a good sign! My mom was excited because she had never seen a live ultrasound before (only the pictures afterwards).

Well the technician set the wand down high on my abdomen and what do you suppose she saw first thing? The baby's HEAD. Up high. After months and months of being in the perfect position (including just last Thursday, when I had my last ultrasound), this baby had flipped! WHAT? Not only that, but she was seeing something else in there, because she asked me if I had a history of fibroids. WHAT? I did actually have a fibroid once, but it had long since disappeared. But she said there was something that she really couldn't tell what it was that was almost sort of blocking the exit in there. She looked at it for a long time, and then said maybe it was possibly some sort of echo and wasn't really anything. She also said that today had been a weird, weird day, with all kinds of strange things happening. I was beginning to see her point.

Ok, so, I went into an exam room to discuss these new developments with the doctor, but then another ultrasound technician came in and said she wanted to take a look too, to see if she could figure out what the mystery mass was. So, back into another ultrasound room. (Stop me if this is getting tedious. Ok, you can't actually stop me, but feel free to stop reading or at least skip ahead!!) More of that goop on my abdomen, and another look... the baby was still breech, or maybe more sort of transverse (sideways), but the good news was that the mystery mass was totally gone. Ok, well, whew.

Back to the exam room to wait for the doctor. At this point it was about 4:40. I hadn't eaten since before noon and was getting pretty hungry, and so was my mom, so we decided to split a (very small!) granola bar that I had in my purse. It was delicious, by the way. And, as it turns out, a rather fateful little snack.

A few minutes after that, the doctor comes in and says that I have two options, but either way the baby is going to be born today, that she's going to admit me to the hospital right away. Ok, this is really happening. Ok.

So, the two options are: C-section, or she tries to flip the baby back and if it works we induce right away before he can move back again, and if not we do a C-section anyway. Whoah. Really?

Now, I have to admit, part of me is thinking that I have brought this on myself--last time, I found giving birth to be so incredibly painful and traumatic, and I had an abnormally long recovery, that I have been sort of daydreaming about having a C-section. I think I may have mentioned somewhere in this blog that even though I have always wanted to have more kids, I was never thrilled about going through that again, and in fact had tried to adopt a little girl from Mexico about 6 years ago, which ended up falling through. But anyway, I'm thinking, how bad could a C-section really be? 6 weeks of recovery? I had that last time anyway (without getting overly personal, I had a bad tear that took longer than it should have to heal). And if you were going to choose where you were going to be sliced open, would it be at your most vulnerable spot, or low across your stomach? The choice seems mighty clear to me, although I know that when they cut open your stomach they're also cutting through a lot of muscle and other stuff and it's a much more serious cut.

Ok. Anyway. I'm also fearful of the cord getting wrapped around the baby's neck in the process of flipping him. I know that most of the time when the cord does that it's no problem, but it actually happened to my stepson, and he has some pretty severe learning disabilities that have been attributed to loss of oxygen during birth because of it. So, just something else to be worried about.

Anyway, at this point the doctor says we'll need to wait to do either until 6 hours after I last ate. Your stomach has to be empty for the anesthesia, and even if I opt for the flip I have to be ready for the C-section, right away, because occasionally (not usually, but it happens) flipping the baby can put him in distress and they need to take him out right away. So, when did I last eat? Uh-oh; I just had half a granola bar. Does that count?!

Yes, it does count, so we have about five hours and 45 minutes to mull all of this over. Ok. So, she gives me my paperwork and tells me to head up to the maternity ward, to have Bob come join me, and we can talk and make our decision then. Either way I'm going to be hooked up to an IV (which is just as well if I can't eat or drink anything for the next 6 hours, because I'm starting to get thirsty!), so we might as well get started.

I call Bob and tell him to meet us up there, and my mom and I head down the hall. Passing by the window, I look out and see that the beautiful, sunny day has again turned snowy! I try (unsuccessfully) to ban from my mind the blues song "Born Under a Bad Sign"! I'm really not a superstitious person in general. But for some reason, this is what kept going through my head.

Anyway, up we go to the maternity ward. Bob gets there pretty soon, suitcases in tow, and he and my mom watch and wait while I'm hooked up to an IV, have blood drawn, and fill out 50 million forms with the nurses. All of this takes quite some time. Finally, at around 6:45, we're done with the forms. My mom heads down to the cafeteria for a little dinner and Bob and I start talking. Do we do the flip? Do we just go right for the C-section?! How do I make such a decision? And my head is still spinning at this point as I even try to grapple with the fact that the baby is going to be born tonight.

The doctor comes in and chats with us, and does a quick ultrasound and confirms that Ace's head is still up. We tell her we still haven't decided.

Our phones are ringing a lot. Various family on both sides wanting to know what's up. We still haven't decided.

The doctor leaves again to let us have some more time to talk/think about it, but she also says that if we want to skip the flip and go for the C-section, we might actually wait until tomorrow morning or even Thursday. She said if we want to do the flip, time is sort of of the essence, since the fluid has been starting to decrease, and will continue to do so, which makes a successful flip less likely. But since I ate that granola bar, in any case we can't really do anything until about 11pm anyway, so we still have some time to decide. In the meantime, she figures she will check with the anesthesiologist who's on duty, because we can't do anything without the anesthesiologist being ready.

So, Bob and I talk about it some more. Are we staying? Are we going home? Are we doing it tonight? Are we spending the night in the hospital but doing it first thing in the morning? Are we trying the flip? Going straight for the C-section?! Aaaaaaaah!

My mom comes back and then leaves us to go home and get George from his friend's house and put him to bed; we tell her we'll call her and keep her posted. Bob's mom wants to know if we'd like her to come (she lives about 40 minutes away). We have no idea what to tell her. We just can't decide.

I actually resort to flipping a coin. (I like to do this sometimes to clarify how I'm feeling about a difficult decision. Bob thinks it's completely nuts.) Heads I do the C-section, tails we try for the flip. First toss: Tails. Ok, of course I have to try again; two out of three, right? Second toss: Heads. Ok. Third toss: Tails. Really? How about three out of five? Fourth, fifth, and sixth tosses: Heads! This is not giving me the clarity in my own mind that I was hoping for. I'm just overwhelmed and don't know what to do. I do a little prayer/chant/meditation for clarity, and it comes to me to tell her to try for the flip, even though I'm not feeling great about it (neither am I feeling great about C-section. *Adoption* is sounding good at this point, though I do realize it's a bit late for that). So anyway, I figure leave it up to fate, or Ace, or whatever--try for the flip and if it doesn't work we'll have our clear and definite answer. Ok.

The doctor comes back in and I tell her the new plan, and she tells us that she's talked it over with the anesthesiologist, and he doesn't seem too keen on doing a non-emergency C-section at midnight. And since I don't have my heart set on a vaginal delivery, and will be fine if the flip doesn't work (again, the more time goes by the less likely the success at this point), we all agree that we'll just wait for Thursday morning after all!!!! Who knows; maybe he'll even have flipped himself back by then.

Whew. CRAZY. Crazy, weird, snowy April 27. Honestly, even though I had finally wrapped my mind around delivering, I was not too sorry to wait. Even though it meant pulling out the IV, having to go through all the intake paperwork again, and dragging all of our stuff back home and then back again to the hospital... it seemed like the right thing to do.

But I couldn't help thinking if I hadn't had that half a granola bar at nearly 5pm, I could very likely have my baby in my arms right then. (Finished eating lunch at just before noon, so they could have started the process pretty much as soon as they had gotten the IV in and done the intake paperwork.)

But that's ok. I'm really ok with this. I'm really ok with Thursday. And even though this hospital admittance seems like it may have been an exercise in futility, it actually served a purpose.

I have been so scared about this birth. I really have not felt "connected" to it. I've had a wonderful, wonderful pregnancy, and feel a very strong connection to the baby. But I've been almost in denial about the actual birth. And in an odd (and quite disruptive!) kind of way, this experience actually kind of centered me and helped me get ready to *really* do this thing, one way or the other.

Bob and I headed out for a late dinner (it was about 9:30 by the time I was discharged) at Ruby Tuesday's, which gave us the chance to unwind a bit together. It was so nice. He's such a supportive, kind, and fun partner, and I'm so happy we found each other, and that we're getting to have a kid together. Whatever ends up happening on Thursday, I know we'll be able to handle it just fine.

I can do this, people!

Some pics:

The grandmas at lunch

Whoah! Ready to go. Or not.

Mom waiting patiently...

My awesome, awesome doctor

Suitcases back out of the closet...

...and back down the hall to go back home for a day!

Not exactly where I thought I'd be, but not a bad way to end the day, nonetheless.

Within a week...

2010-04-23T03:22:00.000-07:00

...I'll have a baby!

I went to the dr. yesterday. They're monitoring me pretty closely because of various risk factors (age and other stuff) and saw some things they didn't love, and were considering taking me right up to the hospital (the office is in a wing of the hospital building). Whoah! After some further tests they decided everything was ok, but my dr. said the baby is ready and she doesn't want to press my luck, so if the baby doesn't come out on his own sooner he'll be coming out by next Thursday at the latest. Which honestly, is fine by me.

I know, natural childbirth is best and all that... Well, I truly don't mean to denigrate anyone's choices here, and I completely get why many women (probably a very high percentage of my friends, actually) are super-pro-all-natural childbirth. In fact, two friends of mine are midwives; they are wonderful and I think what they do is a really beautiful thing. And I'm certainly not one to blindly trust anyone with a medical degree. But in my current case (and maybe this is partly because for half my life I've been studying the Middle Ages, where so many women and babies didn't fare so well in birth!), I'm really perfectly fine being in a hospital, under the care and following the advice of a physician whom I really trust. It could be different if I were 25 with no risk factors, but I'm not. And I feel just fine about the way this is all unfolding. Ok, now that I've gotten that off my chest...!

So, I'm going in Tuesday for more monitoring. Depending on what they see, they may take me in Tuesday, but they'll probably leave it until Wednesday night or Thursday morning. When Bob heard Wednesday night, he shot me a look, and I knew he was thinking "Band practice!" Which I said out loud and we both laughed. The dr. asked what time it was over and I said around 10, and she said that if we need to go with Wednesday night we can come in after that. The thing is, we're halfway through recording "Been a Long Time", and we'd have to shelve it for a long time (as it were) if I can't get my vocals down now (and I can't do my vocals until Mike first lays down the drums and then Bob lays down the rhythm guitar, which I'm pretty sure they can't do until practice on Wednesday night).

Of course, I must say that I kind of love the idea of going into the hospital to have the baby directly after band practice! This has been our little rock and roll baby from the start, and somehow that would just be fitting. Let me explain.

First of all, he was conceived right around our first anniversary, which also happened to be the 40th anniversary of Woodstock, which we sort of made the theme of our anniversary. We visited both the town and the concert venues, and even had our own little impromptu concert on the lawn, right where the original stage was. We played all of the songs we had just recently written (on the lake in New Hampshire--more on that in later posts) and had spent a portion of the weekend revising/refining.

Two or three weeks after that, I took the pregnancy test, right before we were about to play our biggest gig yet (a national/international bike race that takes place in our town). I remember I wanted to take it then, right before the gig, because sometimes we like to party a little bit before we go on stage, and I was thinking that I'd better just check this out before I tossed back a shot or two of blueberry vodka! Anyway, the test was positive, and that was one exciting/intense gig, let me tell you :-)

And throughout the pregnancy our music has really flourished, especially our songwriting. It's just been an incredibly fertile time for us creatively (not just procreatively--ha).

And, this kid comes alive with music! Well, in particular, with music that really rocks, and especially with the guitar. It started during one of our gigs--can't remember which one--but he'd start going nuts when I'd pick up the guitar and play Johnny Cash's Fulsom Prison Blues (if you don't know it, it's a really kicking song, especially at the tempo at which we play it). It was a little disconcerting the first time it happened, but then it became something I kinda looked forward to and that actually cracked me up. It happened every single time I played that song (and often during some of our other songs that really move... but never during any of the slower ones). More recently, he's started going nuts every time his daddy plays one of his rockin' solos. A couple of practices ago, for example, we were listening to some of what we'd recorded, which was pretty loud and with a booming bass drum beat, but he was perfectly still in there. But when Bob strapped on and plugged in his guitar and started noodling, the baby jumped into action! Dancing all around in there. The guitar wasn't any louder than what we'd been hearing; in fact, it was not nearly as loud, so it's not that. It just must be something about the sound that he really responds to. It's happened many times (at home, as well, when Bob picks up the guitar).

Yesterday during one of the tests in the dr.'s office (a non-stress test, where they test the baby's heart rate), the baby wasn't moving enough. I had brought a cookie with me, because the same thing happened last time. Well, the cookie wasn't doing anything, so after about 10 minutes I got out my Blackberry and found the one video we have on YouTube and started playing it while holding it right up to my belly. It definitely got him going a little bit at first, but where he really went nuts was during his daddy's guitar solo! And then he slowed down when the solo was over, and then at the very end of the song, the way we do it, each instrument has a little one- or two-bar solo, and when it came time for Bob's, again he went nuts. You could see it on the monitor. It was hilarious. And of course, Bob loved it!

OMG, too funny... I just went to YouTube to get the link to put here, and played the video, and he did it again--woke up and started kicking during the guitar solo. Then went back to resting.

Speaking of getting back to resting, I'm going to try to do that now. Soon there will be not much resting to be had in my life!

Band Practice: Recording

2010-04-21T20:19:00.000-07:00

Had an *awesome* band practice tonight.

We haven't been performing since about mid-February, but the timing of this break has worked out perfectly to record our CD, since Bob and I have been on a songwriting spree. We had been playing about 7 of our own songs along with all of our classic rock and blues covers as a band at our gigs, but Bob and I have written about 13 more songs in addition to those, and have been working on them a bit, and were ready to start recording them (along with the 7 we have been playing) with the band. So that's what we've been doing with our Wednesday nights since the end of February.

My plan was to write in here about each song as we finished it, to post something about the circumstances under which it was written, etc., and also provide a link to that song. But we've been continuing to tweak each one, so we don't really have any of them totally ready yet. And I'm getting tired of not writing about them, because I'm so excited about it all!

The recording process is something that was completely new to me. Bob and I got a recorder off of eBay, and fortunately our drummer, Mike, had a good mixing program on his computer. (I guess you can do the mixing right on the recorder, but then you'd have to completely finish each song before you started the next one, and as I said, we've been continuing to edit and redo parts all along.)

The first step is to record a scrap track for the song we're going to work on. It's a track that doesn't have to be perfect (once you get enough of the real parts down, you "scrap" it), but it does have to be perfectly in time. We found it works best if it's just Mike's drums, Bob's guitar, and my singing, but all together on one track. Once we have that down, Mike re-records his drums as an isolated track, while listening (and keeping time with) the scrap track. Then Bob usually lays down the rhythm guitar part (again, on his own isolated track, but while listening to the scrap track). At that point, either Ryan (our bass player) or Sue (our keyboardist) will lay down their parts, again separately and again while listening to the scrap track. Usually I do my vocals last, and I do not do it while listening to the scrap track because it would throw me off to sing along to my own voice. But it doesn't matter, because we have all the parts recorded separately by then anyway, so I just listen and sing to that. In fact, sometimes I've done my vocals earlier on, with just the rhythm guitar and drum tracks down, which also works just fine. Oh yeah, and somewhere along the line Bob records his guitar solo parts.

Then Mike transfers all of the separate tracks to his laptop, and gets to work on mixing them to get the right levels, which is quite tricky. There are several tricky things about this, but one of them is that he might get it mixed in a way that it sounds just right on his stereo, but then when we play it back on someone else's stereo the bass is too booming or the vocals are muffled etc. etc. So it takes a long time and a lot of experimenting to get it just right.

We have recorded 5 almost complete songs at this point: Don't Go Lookin' For Trouble, Why, Bad Girl, Mental Health Day, and I Land on My Feet. The first four of those are part of our regular set list, and we've played them out at gigs many times. The last one we've never played out but had gone over it a few times in practice--we just hadn't yet gotten around to polishing it.

Tonight we started on the first brand new song. It's called "Been a Long Time, Baby". It was one of those songs that practically wrote itself--it's almost like it showed up in my mind as a song I already knew. Music and lyrics. I was hearing it as a rock song in the vein of The Doors. We hadn't worked it up yet with the guitar, though we'd been talking about it, and had even been listening to some Doors so that Bob could start to get a feel for the kind of sound I was talking about. Well, he was taking a nap one day next to me and must have been dreaming about the song or something because out of the blue (almost seemingly without waking up) he asked me what I would think about making it a reggae song. I loved it!

I have more that I've written already about how the song was written, but I'll post that later, when the song is ready. I really just wanted to write about the great feeling I had tonight, down in our neighbors' basement (where we practice), hearing this song come to life. This song that I've had in my head since last July (it first came to me when I was on a boat ride on a lake in New Hampshire)... now here it was no longer just inside of my head, but all around me, being played by these really, really good musicians, and sounding awesome! If I do say so! It came together so quickly; we were able to have everyone learn it and lay down the scrap track just like that. Bob was totally grooving on his guitar, and everyone else was sounding so good, and it just made me so happy. It really was quite the high. I can't wait until all these songs are really done!

So, if the baby keeps hanging in there through next week, we should get all the individual tracks for this song done next Wednesday evening. After that, I'm pretty sure the baby will be born, and they'll go on recording without me for at least several weeks, working on the songs that Bob sings and that I have only minimal parts on that can be added later. I'm pretty happy that it looks like we will have gotten 6 songs that I sing done before I take my baby break. Bob has at least 4 more that are ready to go, and that will be enough for an album, even though we still have 10 more on top of those....

Here are some pics I took tonight:

That's my rockin' husband! I just noticed he's wearing his t-shirt from Squam Lake, which is the lake we were on when the song first came to me.

Mike, amazing us all with his reggae skills...

Sue, who not only plays great keyboard parts but also feeds us dinner every Wednesday beforehand...
Ryan, kicking @$$ as usual...
Les, our sound guy...
Whoah, Mama! Yep, that's me. There was actually another picture where I looked EVEN BIGGER, but I decided I looked plenty big in this one!

Growing up faster than I can really keep track of...

2010-04-19T07:04:00.001-07:00

The other night George stayed at rehearsal by himself, because his dad was in the same building having a rehearsal for a show that he's in, and it really didn't seem like I needed to sit there as well. The plan was that if George finished first, he could either go find his dad or stay and watch the rest of his own play until his dad came to get him. George is only in the first of the three acts of the play, and hadn't yet seen the whole thing. Well, his dad's rehearsal lasted much longer, so George got to see his entire play which, as I have mentioned, is quite heavy and depressing. (Again, it's Arthur Miller's All My Sons.)

Yesterday George was talking about it, and about how heavy it was, and I told him I was really sorry that he had to see that without either of his parents there. He asked me what I meant by that, and I told him that when you see something disturbing, it can make you feel kind of lonely and sad, and it's comforting to have a parent with you. As usual, was he one step ahead of me.... "Mom, please. Were you sitting right there with me when I read the end of Hamlet? No, you were not. And I was just fine. So don't worry about it. Ok?"

Ok!

History, lists, moods, and breakfast

2010-04-18T20:03:00.000-07:00

Friday morning I decided I wanted to take George out to breakfast--we have so little time left where it's just the two of us! And I knew Brad and Lindsey (my stepkids) were coming Saturday for several days because it's their spring break, and soon after that my mom is coming because the baby is due super soon, and then of course the baby will be born and chaos will reign for who-knows-how-long, so I really wanted to spend a little special time with George. It almost didn't happen because I had a terrible night's sleep the night before and was trying to sleep in; I had given George the strictest instructions not to wake me up for ANYthing.

Well, about an hour later he came in to wake me up because he had hit his head "really hard". Did I jump into mommy action to help him feel better? No! I told him to get out because I was sound asleep and wanted to try to stay asleep! (Mom of the year, I know.) Well, once awake I realized I was parched, so I had to go get some water, and then I realized I was starving, and it was clear I wasn't going to fall right back to sleep. I was in the foulest of moods.

But then the coolest thing happened. It just popped into my head that I could really decide how the rest of the morning was going to go, that it was pretty much up to me at that point. And I decided that it was going to go great. I went into George's room, and he immediately began apologizing profusely--poor thing! He's a little too familiar with what a foul mood I can be in when I've been awakened prematurely.... Anyway, I stopped him, and apologized myself for not sympathizing with him before, and asked him if he was ready for breakfast. Off we went to our favorite neighborhood diner (which used to be an Arby's; what it lacks in atmosphere it more than makes up for with rock-bottom prices, very decent food, and great service).

We had a wonderful breakfast. He's such delightful company! We talked quite a bit about his homeschooling, and about what our plans are or should be for the rest of the year. I know I'm not going to have the energy or time to supervise much, and there are only a couple of months left anyway. And right now he's *really* busy with the play he's in on campus (plus the Shakespeare play, plus recorder, plus a course called Computer Gaming Academy through Northwestern's CTD that he's recently started...). But I wanted to feel like we had a plan for after the play is over and the baby is born, a couple of weeks from now. I do feel that he has been floundering a bit lately with his schoolwork and I wanted to come up with a workable plan that he'd be excited about and that would be very easy to follow.

What we came up with was a sort of "unit" on American history. I've gotten him several books on American history lately that he's excited about reading, but he keeps not getting around to it. So we decided that once the play is over, he will read these books for an hour and a half a day, and then he can explore some history websites for another half hour or so a day. And he'll watch three American-history-themed documentaries each week. While he's working on all of this, he'll be noticing what aspects of American history he wants to study more in-depth next year.

It's a pretty simple plan (especially considering he usually spends several hours a day reading anyway, and loves to watch the History Channel), but on the heels of our experiment with radical unschooling I have been feeling like he is needing a little more structure. He seems a bit adrift--he keeps busy, but it's sort of all-over-the-place and almost kind of chaotic. He's not quite as grounded as he usually is, and I've been feeling that the blame lies with me, for being rather distracted and scattered myself. I also have been feeling like he's not doing quite enough, or like maybe he's not learning enough. I'm hoping that having a plan like this will help.

Anyway, while we were on the topic of history, we had a great conversation about WWI and WWII and various other wars, and about Machiavelli, and politics and human nature, and it struck me that this kid is learning all kinds of things, actually. I couldn't possibly have had a conversation like that at his age. Maybe not even until I was in grad school. I mean, if someone had talked to me the way that I talk to him on a regular basis when I was his age, I'm pretty sure I could've handled it, but no one ever did talk to me that way about such things. So then we talked about that, and about the kind of uncritical approach to history that I was being fed in school when I was his age, and for the next several years after that. It struck me once again that he really is always learning, that he is growing up in a pretty stimulating environment, that he's always paying attention and that he's learning *plenty* (despite the fact that, for example, I've abandoned our 5th-grade math curriculum at least for now!). It was pretty reassuring. What a journey of doubt and discovery I'm on as a homeschooling parent.

So, getting back to John Taylor Gatto, as I promised in my last post.... The other thing we did at breakfast was to make a list (as suggested by Gatto) of what George wants to be when he grows up, and then make a list of the activities he is doing on a regular basis to prepare himself for those professions. He came up with four things he'd like to be: actor, author, cartoonist, and video game designer. We made the list of activities only for the first thing, actor--but he had so many items to list! Here they are:

--Acting in plays
--Reading plays
--Watching plays
--Acting workshop/class
--Role playing/imaginative play
--Public speaking/reading (at church)
--Singing (church choir)

I'm looking forward to making the other lists with him. Who knows what he'll really end up doing when he grows up, but regardless it was so much fun to think about all of the ways he spends his time and how all of the things he does are furthering his development as a person, in ways that we both value.

John Taylor Gatto

2010-04-17T18:55:00.000-07:00

I've been meaning to write about John Taylor Gatto's talks that I went to way back in February at the unschooling conference, but well, I've been just a little bit busy. But I made use of some of his advice the other morning, so I thought maybe it was time to talk about him a bit.

If you don't know who John Taylor Gatto is, I recommend looking into it and finding out. He's a fascinating guy. Was a NYC teacher for many years, and won the NYC teacher of the year award three times. After he won it for the third time he resigned, speaking in front of the state govt. in Albany and publishing his resignation speech in the New York Times, saying that he thought that school actually hurts children and he didn't want to take part in it anymore. He has spent his time since then writing books and speaking around the country about education.

He said a lot of things, more than I can cover here obviously. But I'll just go over a few of them. One thing was that we baby our children for too long--and that's not doing them any favors. By expecting so little of them (that is, by not expecting them to be self-directed, contributing members of society until they're 21 or so) we are short-changing them. He had so many amazing stories about his students who had accomplished incredible things by about age 15 or so... he served as their mentor, helping them to find and seize opportunities based on their experiences and interests, and he recommended that we do the same with our children. Help them find or create an internship, or to start a business. Have them volunteer at a charity that interests them or where they will build skills that will help them attain their future goals, and make sure to talk to whoever is running the charity and tell that person not to patronize your kid, but to expect of your kid what would be expected of any volunteer, regardless of age. It got George and me talking about what he could do, and we've been thinking that next year he might possibly start volunteering as a tutor in his old kindergarten classroom once a week or so; if it goes really well, he could possibly start his own tutoring business from there. We'll see!

Another thing Gatto suggested was to have your kid think of what he wanted to do with his life, and then sit down and make a list of the skills needed to do that, and then brainstorm about ways to acquire or hone those skills. The idea is that kids should be more actively involved in planning and directing their education. I actually really liked this idea, and have been meaning to do this with George for quite some time now. We finally got around to at least getting started with it yesterday. But I think I'm really too tired to write about it now, so I'll leave the rest for tomorrow....

Cindy Sheehan comes to town

2010-04-10T06:25:00.001-07:00

In my spare time (ha), I joined with some local peace activists and helped organize bringing Cindy Sheehan to our area. If you don't know who she is, she is a mother who lost her son, Casey, fairly early on in the Iraq war. While she initially supported the war, as time wore on she changed her mind and became a major spokesperson for the peace movement, setting up "Camp Casey" across the road from Bush's ranch in Texas, then founding the group Gold Star Families for Peace, writing several books, and running for Congress against Nancy Pelosi, and ended up being nominated for a Nobel peace prize.

Her visit was to have begun with a press conference at the local UU, followed by a pot-luck lunch with her and the organizers. Unfortunately, her plane was delayed, so she was not able to make either of those events. We hadn't gotten the memo, though, so we showed up anyway, and I'm so glad we did, because the lunch was lovely. It was a beautiful day, and we enjoyed their outdoor labyrinth (joined for awhile by several others, including one older lady who introduced us to a labyrinth/chase game she used to play as a child called "Fox and Geese") while we waited for lunch. It was pretty much the most exercise I'd gotten in quite awhile!

Anyway, then it was time for lunch, and it was great sitting around the table talking peace with a bunch of wonderful people. One of the best parts of it for me was seeing George in that element. He fit right in, and even joined in the conversation, in completely appropriate ways. For example, we were all talking about how Obama had run as the anti-war president, but he wasn't exactly living that out. George chimed in with, "And wasn't it ironic that while he was giving his acceptance speech for the Nobel peace prize he was getting ready to send more troops to Afghanistan!" This kid pays attention:-) He made several other comments throughout the lunch, and I was really happy. Of course with the content of his remarks, but much more than that, with his confidence and his social skills and his ability to take part in and contribute to a discussion like that, with about 20 adults or so. (So much for homeschoolers not learning any social skills, or not having any opportunities to use them, thankyouverymuch!)

After lunch and the exhausting game of Fox and Geese we headed home to rest for a little while, and then went back out to a local bookstore where Cindy was going to appear for a book-signing (and give her press conference). When she arrived, we went up to her to greet her, and she had already heard about George. He gave her a picture he had drawn for her to sign.

Before starting to sign things, she talked a bit about her take on politics, peace, and society. It was a great little talk, in my opinion. She said that when she first started out on this journey of questioning, she thought that George Bush and the war in Iraq were the problem, but she has come to realize that they were merely symptoms of a larger problem. She talked about how it's really all about class--how there are two classes, the robbers (the very rich/governing class) and those they rob from. She said that those in power actually foster division among the rest of us (Republican/Democrat, gay/straight, Christian/not, conservative/liberal, etc.) so that we will be too busy fighting with each other to notice how they're robbing us blind in the meantime. Robbing us of our money, our civil rights, our democracy, and in some cases our children and our lives. In response she was calling for a revolution of sorts--albeit a nonviolent one. What she has in mind is for each of us to resist patronizing corporate America as much as possible--living off the grid when possible, growing our own food, patronizing local merchants and farmers' markets, and being active in politics on the local level, since she sees national politics at this point as too corrupt to penetrate. The way to change things, she suggests, is from the bottom up. She also talked about several other things, but I'll refer you to her books if you're interested!

While I loved her message, I think I was even more impressed with her demeanor and her warmth. Losing a child is just about the worst thing that I could imagine happening to a person, and I wouldn't blame someone for being hardened and bitter after that. But she really didn't strike me that way. She was gracious and kind and centered and funny, and it was really a joy getting to meet her. And whether or not you agree with her, I think, you kinda have to hand it to her for taking her personal tragedy and turning it into a life's work doing what she firmly believes will make the world a better place.

Here's the picture George drew for her to autograph:

And here's the picture that ended up in our local paper...(too bad George had just turned his head aside!):

Apparently we also made it onto the local news, but I recorded the wrong channel so didn't get to see it. Oh well!

Breaking up with RU (Radical Unschooling)

2010-04-07T02:30:00.000-07:00

Dear Radical Unschooling,

I'm sorry, but it's just not going to work out between us. I gave it my best shot, but I've become convinced that we're just not right for each other.

You might say I didn't give us enough of a chance. That if I'd stuck it out longer I would have seen that we were perfect for each other. But I just don't think so.

The thing is, I do have an idea in my head of the kind of person I want my son to be. You might call that controlling, and you might say that control is an illusion, and that if I'm imposing my ideas on him I'm just messing with him, that I should stand back (or stand very nearby) and let him develop entirely into the person he wants to be, that he chooses to be. Perhaps this could even be true if the world were different. But with so many influences raining down on him all the time from our culture, I feel that if I don't step in a bit I'm not really letting him grow up to be free, I'm merely ceding my role as guide to the media, etc. I think that as his mom I have a thing or two over the corporate/consumer culture that is constantly, subtly and not-so-subtly, bombarding kids with messages regarding what they should value and who they should be. And if I don't speak up and yes, sometimes insist, that culture will play too formative a role in his development. And as his mom, I don't want that. And I actually do believe that is my right (and maybe even my responsibility) as his parent to want or not want that for him, and to act accordingly.

I know you're asking me who I am to insist that my son spend his time in particular ways. What makes me think that he should spend only a limited amount of time, decided upon by me, playing video games or watching tv, for example, as opposed to reading books? If I happen to think that books are more valuable than tv/video games, that's merely my opinion, and I should let him form his own conclusions, right? Sorry; I don't buy it. I really don't.

Let me tell you, RU, I have nothing in particular against the tv or video games. I enjoy them plenty. And I also know that there are plenty of truly educational tv programs and video games, and also that one can learn a lot even from shows and games that are not at all meant to be educational. But there has to be a balance. And with all the tv programming for kids that there is nowadays, I'm sorry but I don't trust that my son would "eventually" self-regulate. I gave this unlimited tv thing a try. And George enjoyed it, for sure. He found a whole bunch of new programs that he loved and started watching on a regular basis. I don't have a problem with that, except that it's all he wanted to do. And with all the cable channels we have, there is *always* something new to watch. And for awhile he was simultaneously watching the tv and playing his Nintendo DS. For hours on end. At the end of which he'd be completely strung out. I felt him slipping away into his own little electronic world. Seriously, his personality changes when he has too much screen time. His sense of humor, normally so sharp and verbal and sophisticated, regressed into mild obnoxiousness. This just does not happen when he spends the whole day reading. And honestly, I don't think it's good for him as a human being!

Yes, I do have an idea of the person I want him to be, and that person is very well educated, and well read. Call me a snob if you must, but I'll counter that I think that such a person can also be well versed in pop culture. I truly have no problem with that, and am quite well versed in pop culture myself. For crying out loud, I'm in a rock band, and I love so-called "reality" tv. If I had more time, I'd actually read People magazine from cover to cover on a regular basis. But again, there has to be a balance as far as I'm concerned.

I want George to grow up reading. All kinds of things. From comic books to the classics. Reading engages your mind in a particular way that electronic media simply does not, in my experience. In a way that I value. It gives you a broader perspective on humanity and the human experience, and sharpens your analytical skills more than electronic media can. I think it makes you a more sophisticated consumer of electronic media, and in the days of "infotainment" and almost non-stop advertising and completely bogus political propaganda being slung around all over the place by around-the-clock stations like Fox "News" (and all the rest of them, really), being a sophisticated consumer of rhetoric is of vital importance. If you are not thoroughly versed in the ways of rhetoric, or at least in possession of a critical approach to and understanding of the ways in which people use language to shape "reality" for you, you are a sitting duck for corporations and politicians who would manipulate you into following them headlong into what's best for them, which at least as often as not is not going to be what's best for you. And I'll tell you what I see: people who are well read and/or well educated tend to be less likely to fall prey to that sort of thing. It was certainly true for me that in graduate school, when I became a much more sophisticated reader than I ever had been, I also became a more sophisticated consumer of both popular and political culture, and that spilled over into all areas of my life, making me a much more empowered human being.

I want that for my son. And I'm going to do what I can to make sure he gets it.

So, anyway, RU, I hope there are no hard feelings. I wish you all the best, and I know you'll continue to thrive in many places, among many families. Just not mine.

The Unschooling thing

2010-03-27T06:32:00.000-07:00

Unschooling has been on my mind a lot lately, pretty much ever since I went to the unschooling conference earlier last month and discovered that I'm not really an unschooler. Well, not a real one, anyway. Turns out to be a true unschooler you pretty much have to not insist on anything from your child. It's not just a homeschooling approach; it's a parenting philosophy as well. If there's something you want your child to do (being helpful around the house, or being polite, for example), you lead by example and can talk to them about what's important from your perspective, but leave it completely up to them whether or not they follow. Unschoolers also do not worry about what their children are or aren't learning--it is completely up to the child what to focus on and when. You might think that this sounds like neglect, but from what I've seen nothing could be further from the truth. The parents I've encountered who choose this style of homeschooling/parenting are extraordinarily dedicated parents, who work hard to provide all sorts of educational opportunities in areas where their kids express interest. And the unschooled kids I met at the conference seemed, actually, to be very nice kids (articulate, interesting, well-socialized, "together", etc.). Here's a definition of radical unschooling that I found on an unschooling site:

Unschooling will look different in different families, and "radical unschooling" simply means extending the philosophy of unschooling (that children will learn what they need to know when they are ready and want to learn it) into every other aspect of life (i.e. children will go to sleep when they are tired, eat when they are hungry, and will learn to be a functioning, helpful member of a family/household without being forced/required to do things like chores, given punishments, limited on tv/videogames, etc.)

I find this concept to be both intriguing and kind of horrifying. It goes counter to so many things in our society (which could be both a plus and a minus, I suppose).

Children who are unschooled often take classes and follow curricula--*if* and when they so choose. Parents who unschool their children say that their kids hardly ever spend the whole day watching tv or playing video games; they say that because these things are not limited, their children aren't obsessed with them. I see the logic in this argument; I really do. And when George had lice last fall, and I told him he could do whatever he wanted until it cleared up, he did spend about three full days on his Nintendo DS but then was quite bored with it and went back to reading. Does that prove the point? Well, I must admit that it kind of does. Do I continue to limit his game/tv time? Well, yes I do. But back to that in a minute.

There are two separate but of course related issues here, one having to do with parenting in general and one having to do with schooling. I'm actually grappling more with the schooling end of things. I'm pretty happy with my parenting in general and also with the person George is turning out to be. Of course I believe that in any area there is always room for improvement, so I am enjoying being on an unschoolers list-serv and considering the different points of view presented there.

But I feel like George and I have a pretty authentic, balanced, respectful, trusting relationship (not unlike the relationship I had with my parents when I was growing up), despite the fact that on occasion there is an imbalance of power. Because I've been around a lot longer than he has, there are some things that I know that he doesn't. And while I'm always willing to listen to and consider his point of view, and will follow it on many things, I feel that insisting on certain things like a bedtime is truly in his best interests. When he doesn't get enough sleep he becomes very irritable and difficult to be around, which adversely affects both him and everyone around him. He really turns into a different kid. Argumentative, edgy, angry, volatile, sometimes even explosive. I understand; I become those things, too, when I haven't had enough sleep! I truly do. As an adult, I do my best to insure that I get at least a minimum of sleep so that that doesn't happen too much. But I can't expect George to do that for himself, not when it would mean voluntarily removing himself from whatever is going on with the rest of the family pretty much every evening (George wakes up early, no matter what, so he has to go to bed by about 8 or so. My husband and I stay up a bit later than that, of course, and when my stepkids are here, they are also allowed to stay up until at least 9--they generally sleep a bit later than George does). This is one example--actually, the main one (though a similar phenomenon happens when he has too much screen time)--where I feel it works best for our family and for George himself for me to insist on something from him.

Back to academics.... The theory, as stated above, says that kids will learn what they need when they need it, and it's not up to us to force-feed them anything at all. This sounds pretty radical, yes. But there are so many examples I've heard of since I've really been looking into this lately. Mostly having to do with math/science, which coincidentally is what's most on my mind. One unschooled girl was never required to do any math and when she was of high school age she was doing a building project of some sort that was important to her, and she suddenly found that she needed a mathematical formula to figure something out. She went right to the computer and did a little research, and within 15 minutes had found the formula and figured out how to use it. Another kid decided she really wanted to go to college and found out that there was an entrance requirement of chemistry, in which she lacked any interest or training. She decided to take an online college-level chemistry class, worked really hard for the duration of the term, and got an A. Getting either of these kids to study these things sooner, when they really didn't see the point and had no interest in them, would likely have produced different (less desirable) results.

At the same time, as I've stated before, I am a proponent of a well-rounded education. I believe that people benefit from studying different things. Even things they aren't particularly interested in. That each discipline has its own way(s) of seeing the world, and that one can only benefit from being exposed to such diversity of perspective. Plus, you might discover that you love something you didn't know you would in advance. An example: I thought I hated "literature". Don't get me wrong; I always loved to read. But I had a series of English teachers in high school who did not inspire in me a love of studying literature. I thought it was sort of imprecise and annoying to try to analyze literature. Fast forward to college: I decided to be a French major, mostly because I loved traveling. (I had initially wanted to be a math major, but had a bad experience in honors calculus my first semester and never took math again.) At a certain point I ran out of language/culture/cinema courses in French and was forced to start taking literature courses my senior year in order to finish my major. Well, with the right professors, I suddenly found that I *loved* studying and analyzing literature. Something finally clicked, and I went on to grad school (in Italian) and became a professor. Now I spend much of my life analyzing literature and teaching others how to do it. And I love it. I really do. But if I hadn't been required to look into it further as part of my studies, I never would have discovered that.

But what about George? What about how much he's hating math right now? How much do I insist that he stick with it? Perhaps there's a happy medium. I actually do believe that he could pick it up pretty quickly, later, if it were to serve a purpose he valued, and I kind of feel like all he's learning right now is a hatred for and frustration with math, which is certainly something I do *not* want to teach him! I recently read a really interesting article, in fact, about a highly successful experiment in which the teaching of math was delayed until middle school. Those kids actually ended up with a better understanding of math than their peers who had been taught the basics all along. (The real problem with the math George is doing right now--which my husband, a former middle-school math teacher, says is about early 7th-grade level--is that it is too repetitive, and it's killing him. So I'm thinking of letting him drop it entirely for now and starting up with a new program sometime next year, when he's recovered a bit.)

This post is already getting kind of long, but I am also wondering how much to insist on things like writing from him. He's already a really good writer. How much do I push him to work on his writing skills, and how much do I let him just run free with them, working on them when he feels inspired to do so? I like the idea of letting his own creativity and drive be his guides. On the other hand, it's not a bad thing to learn how to write (or do math, or work in general) even when you're not feeling particularly inspired to do so.

Anyway, for right now, unschooling (academically, at least) is working pretty well for me--I know George is ahead of the game in everything at this point, and I'm 8 months pregnant with increasingly limited energy and under a fair amount of pressure with my own work. Work that I do, yes, because I feel inspired to do it--sometimes. But also because I *have* to do it (if I want to keep a roof over my head, etc.), and it's a pretty good thing that I've learned to work even when I don't particularly feel like it.

So, despite my current flirtation with radical unschooling, I think I'll likely continue, in the future, to embrace my own little combination of approaches to both homeschooling and parenting. I'll keep looking into a variety of approaches, taking what feels right to me and leaving the rest, figuring it out as I go along. And then figuring it out all over again, as needs and situations always seem to be changing!

Back on Stage

2010-03-26T14:31:00.000-07:00

The fun news: George has been cast in another university stage production (he was in one last year as well). The less fun news: as was the case last year, the theme is too mature for any of his friends to come see it!

Last year George was cast in Harold Pinter's One for the Road. It was an awful play, really! I mean, a great production, but a really grim play. George was not allowed to watch any scenes other than the ones he was in (much to his chagrin. Though I did capture it on video and promised to let him see it when he's like 30). The scenes he was in were fine, though with quite creepy undertones, because he was being sort of interviewed by a monstrous torturer who had kidnapped him and his family, but was being all pal-sy with him. Anyway, despite all that, it was a fabulous experience for him--we have a pretty good theater department here, and with a relatively small cast, he got plenty of personal attention and instruction/direction. It was starting up right when we pulled him from school and began homeschooling full-time, so it worked out well that he really had the time and energy to devote to it. I was so proud of him, as I'm sure you can imagine! He was a real pro up there, completely holding his own with the college kids. I was disappointed only that his friends couldn't come see him.

Fortunately, another opportunity came up right after that--homeschool friends of ours started a Shakespeare group/class and George was cast as Lysander in A Midsummer Night's Dream. They worked on the show all during the spring and put it on in June in the same theater on campus where the Harold Pinter play took place, and then again outdoors at a local Fairie Festival. Lysander is a great part, and George played it very well, if quite reluctantly--he was highly embarrassed to be playing a "lover"! He has plenty of friends that are girls, but did not like having to be lovey-dovey with a girl on stage (no matter that the girl in question was/is *totally* adorable and sweet, IMO)....

I'm really happy that the Shakespeare class is happening again this year; the play will be Twelfth Night. We're still waiting for casting. George was so eager *not* to play a lover that he actually asked if he could have the lead, who happens to be a girl. A girl who is pretending to be a boy for almost the entire play, and who does end up in love at the end but it's with a boy, so he wouldn't have had to walk off the stage arm-in-arm or holding hands with a girl. I find it pretty amusing that he'd rather play a girl than pretend to be in love with one, but ok! In any case, alas, it was not to be; there are more girls than boys in the group this year, so they really can't spare a girl's part for a boy. Anyway, we should find out Monday what part he ends up with.

In the meantime, as I mentioned, he's been cast in another play on campus--Arthur Miller's All My Sons. Not to be at all confused with the sit-com My Three Sons, which I watched a lot as a kid. No. Not at all. Once again, George's scenes are harmless, but the overall theme is definitely not too kid-friendly, ending as it does with the suicide of the oldest son and the father.

Why can't he be cast in The Sound of Music, or Mary Poppins, or something?!

Still, I'm not complaining! He's thrilled to be in the show, and I'm pretty thrilled myself that he's getting another opportunity like this. His first rehearsal was last night and he did *great*. I was so proud of him up there. And today we went to the costume shop to get him fitted, which turned out to be lots of fun because in one of his scenes he gets to wear a cowboy get-up which includes a holster and gun:

I had to practically drag him out of there; he was having such a blast (as you can probably tell from the pictures).

I think I forgot to mention that opening night of this play is on the earliest of my possible/shifting due dates, by the way, so I might not even get to see him in it. (Though of course I'll be at many of the rehearsals.) And as I said, none of his friends can come...

But at least there's no love-interest for his character!

Birthday thoughts, and OW

2010-03-21T16:59:00.000-07:00

First, the ow--I've been having early labor pains for most of the weekend and it has not been fun. They do finally seem to be subsiding, though, so I'm hoping for a decent night's sleep!

More importantly, the birthday thoughts... It's George's 10th tomorrow.

I used to keep a sort of journal for him. I started it when I was pregnant with him. When I found out I was pregnant all those years ago, a friend took me to a knitting store and got me started on my first knitting project since the 1970s, when I knitted one pink slipper to earn some girl scout badge or other. (It was all about the badges--and one slipper was enough, so I never got around to the other one.) Anyway, my friend got me started on a lovely blanket, which I really appreciated, but it wasn't helping me to connect with the little being inside of me in a way that really felt like, well, me. I suddenly got the idea to start a journal, which I would address to the baby, and in which I would write down all of my thoughts about being pregnant. I loved it, and I kept doing it regularly well into his first year. I'll share them with him someday, when he's a bit older. Anyway, my writing has gotten more and more sporadic, and I now write only a couple of times a year or less.

But one thing I've always done, right before his birthday, is to write down a bunch of things I love about him right then, at that age, and also some highlights of the last year. I was going to just write it in here this year, but then I thought that I really ought, for continuity's sake, to write it in the latest journal I have for him (which I think I started when he was about 4!) But then I couldn't find it, and now there's less than an hour left before his birthday, so I figured I'd better just go ahead and write it in here! I always address it to him. I hope it won't sound, I don't know, too personal. Or like I'm bragging, because it's kind of all about how awesome he is. (He's never actually read any of these yet, but he'll probably read this one... Anyway...) So if all that's going to annoy you, just stop reading right now! In any case, here goes.

Dear George,

It's almost your birthday! I won't say anything trite, like "you're growing up so fast", even though it does seem odd that it was 10 years ago tonight that I went to the hospital to bring you into this world. I didn't really know what to expect, of course. I was very excited and also scared. I had always wanted to be a mom, and sure hoped I'd be good at it. It's funny that now, exactly 10 years later, I've been having labor pains.... But in a way it's kind of cool, a kind of interesting connection between you and your little brother-to-be.

George, you might think I am saying this just because I'm your mom, but you are a really great kid. I have loved the last year with you. It has been such a privilege to get to spend so much time with you. It was just a little over a year ago, I think, that we pulled you out of the Montessori school (which you were attending only part-time at that point anyway) and moved full steam ahead with homeschooling. It has not always been easy and we've been sort of figuring it out as we go along, but I am so happy we're making it work. I can see that you are thriving and that is what a mom really wants to see.

So, what do I love about you, right now, at this ripe old age of 9? I love... first of all how kind and caring you are. You really care about other people and are extraordinarily thoughtful and considerate. You've been that way since you were like 2, but I'm glad to see that the world hasn't taken it out of you :-) Also, how insightful you are. How you really "get it". You have a great barometer for detecting bull#$%@ and you crack me up sometimes when you subtly call people out on it. You are really good at considering people's motives and also at understanding why people do the things they do, even when those things aren't very nice. This is true on the level of family, friends, and even society--we had a great conversation about racism tonight, for example. (After which you told me that when you grow up you want to eradicate racism. And also find a better cure for lice.) And I love our bedtime conversations--connecting with each other at the end of a day.

I love how motivated you are with Tae Kwon Do and also with recorder. That when we find something that you like and is a good fit for you, you really run with it.

I love that you trust me enough that when I'm upsetting you you know you can tell me. Like the other day in the car when we were a little late for music because you took too long getting ready, and I was going on and on about it because I was stressed out (about work, not really so very much about being late for the music lesson) and you listened to what I had to say but at a certain point you spoke up and gently expressed that I had really made my point, and that you really don't like it when I go on and on like that after you've clearly heard and understood what I've said! You were so right. And you didn't say it in a mean or disrespectful way.

I love how creatively you play. You will sit in your room for hours playing with your toys (right now it's lots of Legos and Disney Racers), talking and making up story lines... and I love that because you're homeschooled you have plenty of time to do that. Also, I really enjoy sitting on the floor with you (well, I did before I was pregnant, anyway!), playing board games, especially word games. Also, the way you write your own comics and you make up games that involve drawing pictures and such (sort of "choose-your-own-adventure" games, where you draw pictures for each adventure that the "player" chooses, like the rock-star game you made up for me).

Speaking of which, I love how you love my music and my singing. It makes me so happy to hear you sing, and I get an extra kick out of hearing you sing the songs I have written. Even more, I love how we wrote a song together, Schoolhouse Blues--that we took your horrible experiences in first grade and turned them into something so fun, and that was so well received when Bob and I performed it at the unschoolers convention.

There's not much I love a whole lot more than your sense of humor. You really do crack me up several times a day. Wish I could think of some examples but I'm tired and am drawing a blank! On a similar note, your facility with language. I love how when you learn a new word you start using it right away (pretty much always correctly).

I love the tenderness you already feel toward your little brother. You are so sweet when you kiss or ever-so-gently pat my belly and talk to him. I love all the love you already have in your heart for this little boy you haven't met just yet, but of course are so deeply connected to.... Also, how early on in the pregnancy you told me that a uterus was a portal from heaven. And how when you came to an ultrasound early on, and the ultrasound technician pointed out how quickly the baby had just turned around, you turned to me and announced, totally deadpan, "Well, Mom, looks like we've got another child prodigy on our hands." Also, how you told me that the ultrasound reminded you of how Chronos had swallowed his children, that that's what it looked like to you!

I love your attitude about religion and God and the Bible and such, and that you and I can have mature, sophisticated, and completely honest discussions about theology. And about literature. And about people. And about the meaning of life, and about just about anything. You are a great conversationalist--and not just for a nine-year-old, either. Really. I am lucky to know a lot of really great conversationalists and you can hold your own with any of them, with insightfulness, panache, and wit.

I also love how philosophical you can be... like the other day when you were overtired and upset, and verbalized that you were overwhelmed by turning 10 and thinking about all of the changes that you've had in your life already! Also how you noticed, when you were so very tired and upset, that it was, as you said, almost as if your body was looking for excuses to cry. That level of insight into your own feelings is going to serve you well in life.

I love what a good little actor you are. It was so wonderful to see you on stage last year (on your birthday!) at the play on campus, and then again as Lysander at the various performances of A Midsummer Night's Dream with the homeschoolers--especially one of the outdoor performances, when it was pouring rain, but you didn't let it slow you down one bit (nor did any of your cast mates!) I also loved it when you realized that you had forgotten to bring your sword out on stage with you once when you had a fight scene that was about to start--you hesitated for only a fraction of a second, and then just went for it, as if you were holding that sword anyway.

I love snuggling up with you in the morning and chatting, planning our day, or sometimes watching tv. I love going out to lunch with you. And going to the movies with you, even though I fall asleep probably half the time. How you loved the Return of the Pink Panther, which was my favorite movie when I was your age.

I love traveling with you...

I love how helpful you've become, especially now that I'm pregnant... offering to do various things without even being asked (like carrying the groceries, etc.).

Of course there are plenty of other things I love about you, Honey, but it's so late and I'm so tired... so this will have to do. I hope you're not embarrassed that I've written all of this here instead of in a journal where no one but you would see it (and not even you for several more years!!!).

Goodnight, my 9-year-old. Tomorrow we'll have brownies at Shakespeare class, and for dinner we'll have tostadas, your favorite meal. Then next week we'll have a little party for you at the movies. You wanted to show the Pink Panther movie, but were dissuaded when you showed to one of your friends and he didn't share your enthusiasm, so it's Back to the Future Part 2, instead (since you showed part 1 last year). So, sweet dreams, and happy, happy birthday to you!

Quick math update

2010-03-02T14:07:00.001-08:00

So, I backed way off on the math thing, and apologized to George for having been overbearing and impatient about it, and guess what? We're almost totally back on track with it. He's not absolutely loving it, but he's had a few good sessions in a row and is really motivated with it again. Most importantly, he has in general returned to his enthusiastic self.

I hope I've really learned the lesson this time, to listen to my kid, and to respect his own internal rhythms a bit more. He knows when he needs a break. And it may or may not coincide with when I want him to take one. But when he truly needs it and I push him harder instead of giving it to him, it just doesn't work. And I end up sort of traumatizing him in the process! I need to remember that he pushes himself plenty hard overall, in many directions; apart from general guidance or specific help when he needs it, and gentle reminders here and there, I should just back the heck off. And save my slave-driving for myself!

Wrestling with my inner control freak

2010-02-26T21:48:00.000-08:00

So, writing that post yesterday, and observing with renewed attention George's behavior and attitude today, I realize that I've slipped back into my slave-driver mentality this week. There are so many forces at work (both internal and external) that validate that mentality for me.... And it's so easy to forget who I'm dealing with here--not that being a control-freak-nazi-slave-driver would work particularly well with any kid. But the point is, George is plenty driven. He doesn't need me riding him so hard to make him learn! When I do that, it just burns him out. Listen to your kid, remember? He understands his own needs better than you might think.

When I'm pushing him too hard, it's because I'm noticing that he's slacking off a lot, but when he's slacking off a lot, it's always because he somehow knows he needs it. I'm not talking now about when he'll try to avoid doing something like brushing his teeth and he needs a little push in the general direction of the bathroom sink. I'm talking about when he starts to get an overall lack of enthusiasm for everything, even the things he normally loves. Which I really noticed today, when I was paying particular attention to *him* and not just to my own agenda.

And for cryin' out loud, who says he has to complete advanced 5th-grade math in 3 months? He's not even in 5th grade yet and even if he were, why should he be pressured to finish a whole year in 3 months? Just because I've paid a %$&^load of money for it? That's just dumb. Like forcing yourself to overeat at the buffet or something, because no matter what you want to make sure you get your money's worth. Or making yourself wear really uncomfortable-but-expensive shoes that you bought on a whim, because even if you're making yourself completely miserable, again, you're gonna get your money's worth, come hell or high water. Ha.

I *know* all of this, and yet somehow I can so easily forget it. Especially when I'm in a particularly intense period with my own work. And I guess I'm feeling the pressure with that and also with a baby on the way, like soon I won't have enough time and energy to make sure he's doing his math, so I'd better work hard to make sure he gets as much done as possible, right now. But he has his own needs and his own internal pace. His own comfort level with processing, absorbing, learning. And it absolutely needs to be taken into account. In fact, it really needs to be what guides his education. Any teacher worth her salt should know that!

It can just be hard to quiet the voices inside (and outside) my head--subtle though they may be--that express worry that he won't learn the value or the satisfaction of hard work and discipline, or that I'm letting his mind and talents go to waste or something. Again, it goes right back to the issues in my very first blog post, where I was grappling with the question of whether or not I was pushing him too hard or not enough (guess which one it was). I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that I'm having to relearn a lesson that I thought I had already mastered. That just kinda seems to come with the territory of, well, life. On some things, anyway. Two steps forward, one step back....

Homeschooling again...

2010-02-25T17:34:00.000-08:00

I initially started this blog to sort through my experiences as a new (or at least, newly full-time) homeschooler, but things had been going so smoothly in 2010 (at least as far as homeschooling!) that I really didn't have much to write about. Well, I do still have a lot to write about unschooling, but, anyway, now a problem has arisen that I do really want to address.

The problem is (surprise): math.

5th-grade math is so tedious! At least, the course George is doing now. The awful part is that they keep drilling him on fractions (improper, equivalent, etc.), and on long division and multiplication, and he's just tearing his hair out with it. His frustration level is so high that he has been crying almost every day with it. I gave him a long break in January, and then another week-long break for the unschooling conference, so although I can tell he could probably use another break, I've not been feeling inclined to give it to him. I have let him skip the last two days, though. The trouble is, the course is so darned expensive. I hate to let days go by without his making progress.

I guess even more than that, though, I hate having him develop an attitude about math. I have been telling him that I, who *loved* math in high school, hate this kind of stuff, too. It's boring, repetitive computation. The math I love is the more conceptual, logical stuff, and I just know he's going to love that, too. I mean, he does love it when he gets to do it. There's just too much emphasis on the computation right now, and it has zapped all the fun out of the rest of it for him.

It's making him miserable. And by extension, it's making me miserable. It's a particularly busy/productive time for me as I try to get as much accomplished as I can before the baby is born. But it's hard to focus on my work when George is crying over his math in the next room! He gets all frustrated and then he makes a minor error and gets the problem wrong, and then that sets him off. I've been sticking to the line of making him push through it, but it's not really working.

And call me a softy, but I don't think math should be torture. I don't think it should be excruciatingly dull. Cleaning the cat box, waiting in a long line, tidying his room, now those things can be tedious or boring. But I want him to love learning!

So, I've been looking into alternatives. I'd been hearing about Life of Fred for quite awhile, and we checked it out of the library. He does like it! The series claims to teach all the math you need to know from fractions through second-year college math or so. But it's hard to believe that it's really sufficient. The books are so short and are also written in a story format. They are very funny. They tell the story of Fred, a 5-yr-old boy who goes to college. All the math is taught in the context of things he comes across in his life. Then there are little tests that you have to pass before you can move on to find out what happens in the next chapter. It's really, really clever, and also teaches little smatterings of philosophy and rhetoric and such along the way. I love it, and George likes it as well, but I am definitely having a hard time believing it's as thorough as it really needs to be.

I also found that after the next couple of levels CTY math goes from EPGY to Thinkwell. And when I went to the Thinkwell website, I saw that the lowest level looks like it covers stuff he's doing right now. And it looks a lot less dry. AND it's a LOT cheaper. Part of why I feel pressured to keep pushing George is how much money this course is costing; even though it is an entire year of math, he's supposed to be able to do it in 3 months, and if he goes over the three months we have to pay more. But with Thinkwell you pay way less and you have an entire year to finish the course. BETTER! If I feel like he needs a break, or to focus on other subjects for awhile, I don't have to sweat it.

So, I'm contemplating having him do the Thinkwell placement test tomorrow, to see what he can place into. If he can place high enough, I won't feel too bad about abandoning the CTY/EPGY class in the middle. (I don't know why I'm reluctant or afraid to abandon the current course for the Life of Fred. But I am.) We can use the unused credit for another CTY course, I believe. (He's expressed an interest in their cryptography course.)

That's my plan, I think. The CTY courses have felt like such a safety net--they were what gave me the confidence to start homeschooling George full-time in the first place. Taking on homeschooling is such an awesome responsibility, and I felt that as long as the basics (math and reading, and eventually science) were being covered by this program for gifted kids run through Johns Hopkins and Stanford, well, then he was clearly getting an outstanding education. But it's not working so well anymore.

And part of what's so wonderful about homeschooling is that you can be completely flexible and tailor the whole thing to what is working for your kid. So maybe it's time to accept that this program has, for now, served its purpose, and it's time to move on.

Yes. I want his learning to be joyful. Challenging *and* fun. I really think it ought to be so, at least most of the time.

So much to write about...

2010-02-20T20:06:00.000-08:00

...so little time/energy to write about it! Plus, my unlucky-with-laptops streak has continued, and my newest laptop, the only computer in the house that had been working consistently, has been acting up. Anyway, here, in brief, are some of the things I've been wanting to write about:

1) Went to an unschooling conference and finally actually learned something about what unschooling really is. Found that I am, and am not, an unschooler. Am definitely not a "radical unschooler". I intend to write more about this in a future post.

2) Also at this conference I heard John Taylor Gatto speak, and really loved many of the things he had to say. The main idea he conveyed that I loved was something along the lines of how we prolong childhood artificially in our culture, and by doing so, we actually do our kids a disservice. We should both give them more credit and expect more from them starting much earlier on. I'm not explaining that well at all... (does it sound like I'm all for putting kids to work in sweatshops?!) but it will have to wait for a future post.

3) I've been sick all week with a cough that was so bad I actually went to the emergency room (under the advice of my doctor, lest you think I'm a total hypochondriac!). Everything is fine, big-picture-wise, but it's been quite a week. Hence the lack of energy to write about all these things that have been rattling around in my head....

4) I have been on a song-writing spree. Not so much this week, but in the weeks leading up to it. I kind of have the idea to write about the genesis of some of these songs in here, because I think down the road I'd like to remember the circumstances under which I wrote them. And it's getting to the point where there are enough of them that I'm going to start losing track. I will say that tonight Bob and I set to music some lyrics we wrote some time ago ("Catch a Groove"). Anyway, more later.

5) I have great aspirations to write about all of the above, but am not sure when I'm really going to get to it, since I also have a ton of work to do (especially since I fell far behind this week, being on my deathbed and all), and I'm going to have a BABY in two months and my house is nowhere near ready for his arrival.

Ok, that's it for now. Must sleep!

Rockin' Out

2010-02-07T05:33:00.000-08:00

Weird, weird gig last night.

It was at a bar called The Country Pines, kind of out in the boonies. It is a huge place. The owner actually called us a few days ago to say he was thinking of cancelling the gig and closing up the bar for the weekend, because the place had really been empty--January and February were traditionally his worst months, but with the economy the way it is, they've been truly abysmal for him. We had told him we didn't mind playing to an empty house and would rather not cancel, and didn't mind if we didn't make any money (we had an arrangement for payment that was based on what kind of business he did that night, an arrangement that has worked out nicely for us in the past at other places). Besides, we had invited a lot of people, and even though we always invite way more than we get, we were pretty sure that several people were coming.

So the show was to go on.

When we got there, the place was empty. Completely. The owner wasn't even there yet! But he came soon. By the time we were set up and ready to start, several people had in fact shown up, and at one point there were probably 25 people. Which would be a nice little crowd in some of the places we've played in, but as I said, this place is HUGE.

Not that we mind a small crowd--in fact, what they lacked in numbers they more than made up for in enthusiasm. The problem was, the place was so big (and had wood floors and only a bit of wood furniture, and not much on the walls), that it was like singing in an echo chamber.

Have you ever tried to sing in an echo chamber? Well, me neither, but I now feel like I have. When I started singing my first song (Gimme 3 Steps), my voice came bouncing back to me from all over the place, and it was so completely disorienting. I felt like I had nothing to latch onto with the music. It sounded horrible to me, and I couldn't believe people weren't running for the hills, or at least the bathroom, to escape.

Around somewhere during the second verse, I realized that trying to listen to myself wasn't working, and I had to just let go and hope for the best. Focus in on Bob's guitar and try to block out everything else, including myself, and just go for it. Doing this took a great deal of concentration, and was not really conducive to a fun, high-energy performance, however. In fact, it was *quite* stressful.

I wondered if my bandmates were having similar issues, because it seemed like everyone's concentration was just a bit off. We weren't quite clicking. It almost felt as though we were playing underwater, like everything was kind of a struggle and we weren't as honed in on each other as we normally are.

But, we forged onward. And during about my third song, something came over me--the realization that this was our second-to-last gig before we take my "maternity break". It hit me that it will be awhile before I'm doing this regularly again, and I felt really wistful about it! I decided that I was going to milk this experience for all it was worth. That I was going to have a ball, echo chamber or not. Grating vocals or not. Seventh month of pregnancy or not. And you know what? It worked. I had the time of my life up there. I loved it. Loved it. And no one was leaving, so I was thinking maybe it didn't sound as bad as I had been fearing.

There are a few songs that I don't need to play on, that have been serving as built-in breaks for me during the sets. When I came down off the stage a little over halfway through the first set, I thought we actually sounded pretty decent. Though of course I could not hear my own vocals then! But it gave me hope that the whole thing was sounding better than it did up on stage.

By 11:15 or so the crowd had thinned out, and we had agreed in advance with the owner that we would end early if there weren't a lot of people there. I was actually having so much fun I wanted to keep going, but I went with the flow.

I'm not much help packing up the equipment these days, so I left early... but Bob told me that as they were packing up a new group of people came in to hear us play, and were really disappointed that we had ended early! Of course we love it when our friends come out to hear the band, for *sure*... but it also always feels great when people you don't know have heard about you and come to see you.

Even better than that, Bob reported, the bar owner LOVED us. He told Bob that we were the best band he'd heard in awhile, and that he does a lot of catering/private parties, and that we were going to be the number one band he recommends from now on to people who ask him. We were kinda shocked (since we truly did not feel we'd put our best foot forward), and thrilled.

So, one more gig, next week, and then it's at least three months off for me. But I will definitely be back. Definitely!

Water, Water, Everywhere...

2010-01-27T09:15:00.001-08:00

I guess the universe decided that I needed a little water to go with all that sunshine I've been getting this month.

First, our hot water heater broke, flooding our (very full) basement with up to 5 inches of water in the deeper parts. Then, on a particularly rainy day, it started raining into our bedroom (which is on the 2nd floor, so no relation to the basement issue). Oh yeah, and our downstairs toilet started to leak.

The hot water heater broke when I was home between trips to CA and FL. Bob and I were going out for brunch (so, late morning) and to run errands, and as we were leaving I heard water running down in the basement. It sounded like the washing machine, and I was pretty surprised and impressed that Bob was already doing laundry that day. Fortunately, rather than just heading straight out the door, I mentioned it... and was none too happy to hear that he had not in fact started the washing machine. I rushed down there to find water spewing out of the top of the hot water heater (I later learned this was because the "core" blew, though I still don't really know what that means--other than that we were out one hot water heater, which needed to be replaced), and an ever-less-shallow lake covering the entire basement floor.

Doing my best to remain calm, I called Bob down there, and we started trying to figure out how to turn the water off. I thought I remembered the water main being on the far side of the basement, on the wall closest to the street. Not even thinking about the possibility of getting electrocuted, I trudged over there through increasingly deep water (at least I was in my rubber-soled Dansko clogs). Bob followed; while I looked for the water main, he headed straight for the hot water heater, and actually found the right spigot to turn off.

I knew there was a drain somewhere in the floor over where I was (from a previous flooding); I found it, but we couldn't get it open. Fortunately, a friend who is also a handyman was able to come over and open it up for us, and the water did drain out pretty quickly once that was the case. He's the one who brought up the possibility of electrocution. YIKES! But fortunately, we were all fine. If a little wet.

But then there was the matter of All That Stuff to deal with.

First, let me say that I am an incurable pack rat. Have been since I was a kid. I really have a hard time parting with things--not like those people on tv who save the wrapper that their Big Mac came in, or anything. But really, I know I save way too many things. I envy my sister, whose house is, I would venture to say, about 100% clutter-free. I don't know how she does it.

Anyway... all of that to say that my basement would have had way too much stuff in it anyway, but it had even more because last year when we renovated the attic for Bob I lost all of my storage space up there. I did get rid of some stuff, but a lot of it ended up in the basement. And then there were the many boxes of Bob's things that we hadn't found a place for that were also on the floor in there. Plus boxes of things from our wedding (extra embossed napkins, which I thought would be fun to save and break out at an anniversary party somewhere down the line, etc.). And of course, a TON of toys, because before that became our storage room it was George's playroom.

So began the task of going through all of it. Which was a task we were planning to undertake this winter anyway, to get the house more organized before the baby joins us and we start acquiring even more stuff. But this wasn't exactly how we were hoping to go about it! Also, I really couldn't start right away, because I was quite exhausted from my trip *and* I needed to save my energy for a 4-hour gig we had the next day. (The two-hour gig we had in the middle of the holidays just about did me in, because I wasn't well rested for it. It took me days to recover, and I didn't have days to recover from this one because George and I were going to be off on our next adventure very soon.) And Bob couldn't do it without me, because honestly, it was mostly my stuff. It was completely overwhelming.

But, you know what? As overwhelmed as I felt by the monumental task of sorting through all of it (and the short time frame), and by knowing that I was going to have to part with a lot of stuff (which, as I said, is not something I do very willingly), I actually didn't really feel all that upset. In fact, I was feeling, overall, blessed and even lucky.

Why? Because this all happened at the same time as the earthquake in Haiti.

I couldn't bring myself to watch much coverage of the devastation there, but you really couldn't help but be aware of it. Thinking of all of those people trapped in the rubble of their homes, or wandering around looking for loved ones, with no shelter and no food and in many cases in need of medical attention.... What, compared to that, were a few dozen boxes of wet stuff that I hadn't seemed to miss much in the last year anyway??? Not a whole heck of a lot. I really felt that, and it really gave me the strength to do what needed to be done.

So after I'd made it through and recovered from the gig (which went surprisingly well: a 4-hour gig when you're well rested is infinitely easier than a 2-hour gig when you're not, I found), Bob and I headed down there to attack the mess. It was a little bit brutal, I won't deny. One thing that stands out in particular that was tough to toss was the original trunk (it looked like a big, black suitcase) from my dad's very, very old Ford, which had a note with it that my dad had written about it sometime before he died. The fact that it was soaking wet might've been ok, but it had started to mold a little bit and the whole thing smelled bad. Bob thought that maybe we could salvage it, but I didn't see how, and besides, I was in a rare mode of being willing to get rid of things. So I saved the note, but out went the trunk. Along with a ton of clothes, books, papers, supplies, some stuffed animals, a beautiful (thick and quite large) area rug, and I don't-really-want-to-think-of-what-all-else. I actually felt really bad throwing clothes away, but they were soaking wet and would have needed to be cleaned before being donated, and I truly did not have it in me wash or dry clean them all. It might have been different if I hadn't been leaving town again the next day, or if I hadn't been pregnant and running on limited energy anyway (or if we hadn't also had to do about 8 loads of laundry because we had mounds of it down there that had been waiting to be either washed or folded), but there you have it--that's all I could handle.

We put bags and bags and boxes of things out by the side of the house, for Bob to haul to the curb on garbage day after I was long gone.

There are big spots of mold on the floor that will need to be dealt with, and that aren't getting any smaller, but they will just have to wait.

Focusing on the positive. I'm trying to retain that sense of feeling blessed and lucky for how wonderful my life really is overall.... We really do have so very much. And feeling good about finally having just a little bit less!

Livin' it up, retiree style

2010-01-20T21:04:00.000-08:00

Did I mention that January was "travel month" for me? I know we just got back from California, but we took off again for Florida, where we are visiting my stepmom. I have to get all these family visits in before I'm too pregnant to travel (and before I have a baby in tow).... It really has nothing to do with following the sun or anything!

In any case, my stepmother (Laura) lives in central Florida, about an hour and a half north of Orlando, in a gigantic retirement community that I've concluded is kind of like college for old folks (minus all the academics, and plus some pretty fantastic facilities).

Yesterday Laura took us by golf cart all around town, which was quite the little adventure (especially considering it's a cart that seats two, and she and I plus George=3, plus baby in my belly=at least 3 1/2!)... George sat on my (disappearing) lap at first, and then I came up with the idea to have him stand up in the back and strap him in where the golf bag goes. That worked quite well for awhile, and he thought it was pretty fun!

There are golf-cart paths all over town, and golf-cart lanes (like bicycle lanes) on many of the main roads.... Here's a golf-cart bridge over the highway:

Our destination was one of the shopping/dining/congregating centers, on a lake. It looks like a charming, old (but very well kept up) village that you might find in the Florida Keys or maybe somewhere in the Caribbean. But of course it's all been built since like 1990. We went out to a gazebo at the end of the dock and had a lovely picnic lunch that Laura had made for us.

(Just out of the picture is a place with a long outdoor bar, where people were starting up with Happy Hour at about 3:00. Hey, no need to wait till 5 if no one's working!)

We window shopped until we got tired, and then piled back in the golf cart and headed home. After a nice nap, we headed out (in the car this time) to what turned out to be a great Mexican restaurant for some early bird specials. When dinner was over we strolled up the street to another "town square" area where there was live music and dancing. There were probably 200 people there--maybe more. What fun! There was a stand that was selling all kinds of drinks, and lots of people were partaking, but from what I could see everyone was having a great time either way.

When we first arrived, a whole bunch of people were doing a line dance, and I thought George might really enjoy giving it a try, so I asked him if he wanted to... he said that he did not. Undeterred, I offered him a bribe (we all know by now that I'm not above that! and besides, I just *knew* he'd love it if he gave it a try). 5$ if he went up there and went for it. He was clearly quite tempted, but the dance ended before he could decide. Fortunately, a few songs later he had another chance, and he ran right up there. (This is a kid who volunteered to do the hula at a Luau for 500 people in Hawaii a couple of years ago, so don't think I was pressuring him to do something that was totally out of character for him.) Well, this was probably the most complicated line dance I've *ever* seen. I watched intently the whole time and I never figured it out. Poor George was really floundering and at one point started to leave, but one of the old folks encouraged and convinced him to stay. (Plus, I figured, he wanted to stick it out to make sure he got his $5.) This other lady looked like she was kind of taking him under her wing, motioning to him at certain parts, which I thought was really sweet. Until I found out it wasn't true.

When the song ended, he stormed off the dance area and headed straight for the back of the crowd. Then he burst into tears and said that he was totally humiliated! Turns out the lady who was gesturing at him had scolded him, and told him that he was going to make her fall! How terrible do you think I felt?! At least the other person who had talked to him (when he tried to leave partway through) had in fact told him that he was doing great and he should stay, but when I tried to console George with that, he countered "That's just the type of thing that grownups say to kids to make them feel better. It wasn't true." Ok, so he was having trouble with the dance itself, but he really did look adorable out there! But yes, I felt just awful, and told George I'd double his bribe to $10 *plus tax*. That did actually get him to stop crying. It didn't make me feel much better, though! Humiliating my kid for my own amusement. NICE. (Come on, though; doesn't he look cute?!)

Anyway, apart from that incident(!), it was a great day, and today was lovely as well. Laura made us pancakes in the morning. Later, she had some things to do, so George and I drove the golf cart to the club to swim and lounge around in the sun. Glorious! And I didn't even feel out of place in my skirted (maternity) bathing suit! Tonight we had dinner at home (delicious lamb curry) followed by Lexicon, a really fun word/card game.

Tomorrow we're going to play shuffleboard, which we are very much looking forward to. Then another early bird dinner.

I could really, really get used to this life....

The next day, we're off to Disneyworld. If you think that the fact that we've just been to Disneyland dampens our excitement for that, you are incorrect. We can't wait!! I haven't been there in over 20 years and George has never been, and we are rarin' to go. We've already studied the map and figured out all the rides we want to hit. I'm sure I'll exhaust myself again, but oh well--I can sleep on the plane the next day. Or maybe when I get home. Or, actually, maybe when I retire.

Bittersweet

2010-01-12T21:44:00.001-08:00

I had an amazing day with George today. But by the end of it, I found myself feeling a bit wistful....

The day started out in the desert, at my mom's. It was our last day there before heading back to Orange County, where we're staying overnight at my brother Drew's and then flying back home to the great white north.

We were considering stopping off at Disneyland's California Adventure, Disney's other theme park out here, on the way to my brother's, solely because we had free tickets to it. Which we got last week when we went to Disneyland with several members of my family (if you are CA residents, as they all are, you get a free ticket to the other theme park to be used on a separate day). A few Disneyland pics:

(Mom in front of the Matterhorn)

(George and Cousin Ryan, waiting for the Tiki Room)

(Drew, my mom, Ryan, and George on the Jungle Cruise)

Honestly, we've been to CA Adventure before and haven't been too impressed with it. But *free* tickets....

George is so sweet--even though he actually really wanted to go, at first he said he didn't. After a bit of probing, I figured out that he was just saying that because he didn't want me to tire myself out too much. He saw how exhausted I was after Disneyland last week, and he was worried about me! What a kid. Anyway... I just hated to let free tickets go to waste, so I told him we'd stop by for only a couple of hours.

As it turns out, we got such a late start leaving my mom's that we got there just about two hours before closing time, which was fine because a) there really aren't all that many rides there and b) this would ensure that I would not let myself get overly tired. And it's just as well, because when closing time rolled around I would have totally been up for staying longer, but I know that would have done me in. And with a cross-country trip tomorrow, and then band practice on Thursday, and then a gig on Friday, well, let's just say it worked out very well that I had no choice but to cut it short.

In any case, it was a marvelous couple of hours. It really was. He was such great company. We went on several rides, my favorite being Soaring over California, where you are taken on a simulated glider ride over various parts of California. A totally safe and non-bumpy thrill....

We had been to California Adventure I think twice before. Both times with free tickets. The first time was kind of a disappointment, because he was too little to go on half the rides. But I actually still have some very happy memories of that trip, especially of him playing in a couple of "play-place" type areas that they do have for younger kids. The second time was more recently, and he was big enough to go on the rides, but he was too scared for some of them. This time, he was really looking forward to going on some of the scarier rides, but the thing is, expectant mothers are barred from all of them. (At nearly 6 months I could pass for a woman with a paunch, but couldn't be less interested in a roller coaster at this point!) I told him that if he really wanted to we'd see if he could go by himself, or we'd try to find someone in line who would go with him. He was thinking that he might like to try that, but said that first he just wanted to go on rides with me, which I thought was awfully sweet (especially given how little time we had).

Turns out, that was just as well. The third ride we went on was a giant, swinging ferris wheel. The cars are on rollers, so they slide/swing back and forth quite dramatically (yet very smoothly) at certain points. This made us scream! Mostly with delight. But by the time we were coming around to the bottom, George asked if we could get off. (It was time to get off anyway.) After that, he was pretty much cured of all desire to go on the fast/scary/looping roller coasters.

(Roller coaster left and center; thrilling-enough ferris wheel to the right...)

We also had a lot of fun in the Toy Story 3-D shooting gallery. You ride around in a little cart, while wearing 3-D glasses, and you stop in front of screens with various scenes and targets on them (like you would see in a carnival shooting gallery). It keeps track of your score for you, so at the end you can compare how you did with the day's and month's high scores (we thought we did pretty well, until we saw that we had about 1/6th of the daily high scores. And about 10% of the month's high score....)

After the crazy ferris wheel George was ready for some old-fashioned playtime, and I was happy to sit down for a bit, so we went to one of the play areas. It's a gigantic (and I do mean gigantic) sort of wooden jungle gym/obstacle course. One of the earlier times when we were there I remember he got away from me and I was pretty freaked out because it was so big and there were so many people, but he's older now so I just turned him loose in there and told him to meet me back at the bench at the entrance when he was done. Funny--this time he was the one who got a little freaked out, because at a certain point he wanted to leave and couldn't find the exit, and was also afraid that I'd be worried about him! Sweet.

After that we wanted to get something for dinner, but the park was closing and the only food place that was still open was the ice cream place. I asked him if he wanted to wait and get something outside of the park, but he was starving, so I said what the heck, and we had ice cream for dinner. (It was delicious, if not-so-nutritious.)

We made one more stop on our way out, at one of the stores, where I got him some little cars, which he's been very into lately. He was so appreciative, and so non-greedy about it all--it made it really a pleasure to spend what was a pretty reasonable amount on him (some or even most of the stuff in those stores is way overpriced, but the little cars were fine).

While we were in the store, and the day was just about over, I was suddenly overcome with bittersweet emotion. It hit me that this was one of the last times *ever* that it would be just the two of us.

For perhaps even the majority of George's life it's been just the two of us. When he was very young, his father was living with us for a few years, but was not around a whole lot many/most days. After he and I split up (amicably, ftr), I was officially a single mother for several years. And even though I'm now married and have two stepchildren who spend plenty of time with us, George and I have a *lot* of time where it's just the two of us, since he's homeschooled and I work from home a lot. So we are accustomed to long stretches of time at home and about town together where it's just us. And beyond all of that daily time, because of our uniquely flexible schedules, for George's whole life he and I have taken regular trips out to California to see my family, pretty much every year.

But all of that is about to change, because soon there will be another little one in the mix. And this one will not have a parent in another home that he goes to sometimes. Of course, sometimes Bob will take Ace (did I mention that's the baby's in-utero nickname?) somewhere for a morning or an afternoon and George and I will have a little alone-time, but that will be the exception far more than the rule that it has been.

I asked George, in the store, how he felt about that and he actually said that he's excited about it. He added that he's particularly looking forward to reliving his childhood "from a different perspective". I hope he still feels that way after Ace is born. I think he will, actually.

In any case, big, big changes ahead for us.... So I'm extra glad we've had this time.

Highs, Lows, and Tortilla Soup

2010-01-08T23:56:00.000-08:00

I am actually, finally, getting a little emotional with this pregnancy. Not a whole lot, mind you--just a bit. And you know what? It's not all bad.

I have been extremely level-headed throughout this whole thing thus far. Which sort of felt like it has been by choice. You see, I had a miscarriage about a year ago--actually a little sac that never developed a baby in there, so it did not feel as tragic as it might have. In fact, if I *had* to have a miscarriage, I'm sort of glad that that's the way it went, because there really wasn't the loss of a baby to mourn. And honestly even though I was quite sad about the whole thing, part of me was happy that I got to experience the joy of a positive pregnancy test (and a few happy days before it was clear something was wrong) with the man I'm married to and with whom I'm deeply in love.

Despite all of that, it was quite the roller coaster ride, in no small part because there was a slight chance that a baby would suddenly decide to show up in the sac. So, since I very much wanted to be pregnant, the doc suggested I wait at least a few weeks to see what would happen. Those were some difficult weeks emotionally, let me tell you. Knowing I was probably miscarrying, but taking daily progesterone to try to keep it from happening.... Trying not to get my hopes up but at the same time not at all being able to mourn and process the miscarriage.... It was not a journey for the faint of heart, let's just say.

So when I discovered that I was pregnant this time, I was definitely circumspect. I didn't let myself get excited, hardly at all. We also did not tell a single soul for quite some time, which isn't the sort of thing that's in my nature--I'm good at keeping a secret for a friend if/when it's called for, but I don't like to keep hidden from those close to me something that is so monumental to myself! And if I had miscarried again, I definitely would have shared that with my friends and family, but if it came to that I wanted to do it after the fact, and not take everyone on that roller coaster ride with me once again. Also, George had taken the news of the miscarriage extremely hard--when I told him, he collapsed into tears and said it was the worst day of his life. Needless to say I was eager to spare him that pain!

So Bob and I kept it to ourselves for quite some time, most of the first trimester. And somehow, keeping the news completely to ourselves kind of made it not seem entirely real, even though the morning sickness and exhaustion provided daily evidence to the contrary! The combination of not telling anyone and of trying to be glad without getting my hopes up too much (I handled the first miscarriage like a pro, really, but a second one would've been crushing, I think) made me rather emotionally distant from the whole thing. Which, now that I think about it, is kind of sad!

Anyway, once the first trimester was over, and we had some excellent test results back, it was time to start telling people, and of course to start accepting for ourselves that it was really happening. Since then, I have been feeling very, very joyful about it. In fact, I've been on cloud nine pretty much every day, though I have also felt extremely grounded. In a good way. It's been this very calm, deep happiness, if that makes sense. No wild mood swings, no getting weepy....

Until last week. It was the day before I was leaving to come out to California to see my family. It was &%#*ing cold. Single digits. Below zero if you count the wind chill. I had been out tutoring and came home to Bob (all the kids were with their other parents). Bob asked me what I wanted to eat for lunch, and I just burst into tears! "Tortilla soup," I managed to say. "Do we have the stuff to make it?" he asked. "No!" I cried. Being the super-sweet husband he is, of course he volunteered to go out and get me some, but this made me cry even harder--"You can't go out there! It's too cold! And besides, I don't want you to leave me!" and, well, you get the picture. I cried for quite some time, until I fell asleep, which is probably all I really needed. When I woke up, we bundled up and did go out together for some tortilla soup.... But anyway, it was the first time during this whole pregnancy that I felt quite overwhelmed and emotionally not-really-myself.

Have I been willing myself to stay calm all this time, and I'm finally letting my guard down more? It doesn't really feel that way. Although, with all the responsibilities I have, it may be that something inside me knows I just *have* to stay grounded. Nothing like having other kids to keep you from getting too carried away by your own stuff, after all. But maybe now that I'm closing in on the third trimester and we are thinking about baby gear and other practical stuff it's becoming even more real to me, and that is taking things up a few notches for me emotionally. Or maybe the hormones are just finally catching up with me.

Whatever it is, I don't really mind! It is a true delight to be pregnant at this point in my life. And to be sharing it with my husband. And with George. And my step-kids.

So, I think I'll just relax and enjoy this ride for all it's worth :-)

Invictus and(/vs.) Avatar

2010-01-02T03:28:00.000-08:00

I went to back-to-back showings of Invictus and Avatar last night. Two very different but quite powerful movies. I can't stop thinking about them--separately and in relation to one another.

Let me say that I went to Avatar fully expecting to fall asleep. For several reasons. A) I'm an insomniac whose body seems to decide that being in a dark movie theater is a perfect time to catch up on sleep, even when I'm watching a movie that I really enjoy... but especially when I'm watching a movie I don't really love, and B) based on the previews, I didn't think I was going to particularly enjoy this movie. I don't like action movies to begin with, and the previews I saw of this were full of violence. C) I found the last 3-D movie I went to, A Christmas Carol, to be somewhat hypnotizing and thus a great sleep-aid. D) It was a late showing--10:15--which *always* exacerbates this cinematic snooze problem of mine. E) I was completely exhausted to begin with, from the holidays in general, but also from a gig we had on the 30th (note to self: sit down during breaks when doing gigs while pregnant in 40s) and then of course New Year's Eve (we have an annual party), and my longed-for long nap during the day yesterday just didn't pan out. Because I wasn't sure I was going to like the movie anyway, I didn't really mind that I was probably going to sleep through it--I figured we'd get there, I'd get a feel for this movie that everyone was talking about, and then not-too-far-in I could start catching up on my sleep and my husband (um, let's call him Bob) could fill me in later.

But I didn't fall asleep. At all. This movie held my attention all the way until 1:00am.

It wasn't just the special effects that kept me awake, though they were admittedly worth the price of admission (especially if you sneak in and use the glasses you kept from A Christmas Carol, which I'm *not* saying I did). It was aesthetically a beautiful movie, with abundant, great scenes of an otherworldly jungle. But that is actually the sort of thing that is likely to lull me to sleep as much as anything.

So, it was really the rather compelling storyline that did it for me, I guess I'd have to say. In particular, it was the transformation of the protagonist as the world of his avatar and the Na'Vi people (ok, humanoids) becomes more and more real to him than the world from which he came, a transformation we as the audience undergo as well, to a degree. But also it's a great story of good vs. evil, and will-the-underdogs-beat-the-bully and all that. But also (and I don't think I'll be spoiling it for anyone by saying this, because you keep hearing it all over) it's a movie with a strong message rooted in current events, with interesting--if rather uncomfortable--implications. But more about that in a minute.

The other thing that held my interest was my consideration throughout of a very interesting review I had read in the New York Times. A brief quote: "The remarkable thing about 'Avatar' is the degree to which the technology is integral to the story. It is important to show Pandora and its Na’Vi natives in 3-D because 'Avatar' is fundamentally about the moral necessity of seeing other beings fully." It's true. It's very much a movie about perspective. And this is related to the other things that I said kept my attention during the movie, namely, the protagonist's (and our) gradual entrance into this other world, but also the critique this movie offers of American foreign policy.

You know, when you go to a movie, a good/compelling one at least, you go on a journey with that movie, and the journey this movie takes you on is one of increasing sympathy with the Na'Vi people. It felt strange and more-than-a-bit disorienting to me to find myself sympathizing with the underdogs in their struggle against the rapacious, bullying, imperialist enemy, when all the while I could not help being aware that that enemy is really us. Now, listen... those who know me know I'm a die-hard progressive and peacenik who loves my country but has never shied away from criticizing it. In fact, I think it's our patriotic duty to question and, when necessary, criticize our great country. It keeps us honest, and is absolutely vital to the health and survival of democracy.

So it's not that I felt strange engaging in a critique of American aggression. Not one bit. But it's one thing to be critical or even to radically oppose a policy or an entire war (or even war in general). It's another thing to be cheering for this group that wants to destroy "our" soldiers. I take that seriously and it makes me kinda sick to my stomach even as I write the words, because there are people in our military right now whom I really love. My own dad was a veteran (way back in WWII, but still). I couldn't possibly be hoping for any harm to come to them! Not for a split second, not even just by extension during a movie about an alternate universe. And yet, the story does kind of try to lead you there, within its own framework I mean.

(I'm not accusing James Cameron of hating our troops; please understand! If I had to guess, I'd say he's just trying to get us to think about things from a different angle for a minute... or 160 minutes... to consider what it is that our country may be doing to other countries, to other people, to their homes, their lives. And maybe to ask ourselves, and each other, and our government: why.)

But I guess I shouldn't feel too conflicted about all that because after all, as I said, I am a peacenik. I pretty much reject violence as a solution, even as a solution to violence. I don't want ANYone to come to a violent end; I really don't. I don't have this worked out utterly and completely (the Hitler thing remains a sticking point to me), and it's pretty hard to see how in this movie the Na'Vi could have successfully engaged in nonviolent resistance. And I also know that some will consider my viewpoints naive. I'm not going to go into a full explanation of why I try my hardest to embrace peace on both a global and also the most individual level, in every single situation, because that would make this post too long. But I will say that I think all war is a tragic failure of humanity to live up to our potential. All war saddens me deeply. I do believe that we can do better and that we must find ways to do better. Not just we Americans, but we humans. In support of this, I would point to what great things have been accomplished by proponents/practitioners of nonviolence such as Ghandi, Martin Luther King, Jr., and, well, Nelson Mandela.

Which brings me to Invictus. Compared to Avatar, it was a modest, quiet movie. But it was terrific. I loved it, and found it deeply inspiring but not schmaltzy. The message of Nelson Mandela came through beautifully. I found it moving on a personal level as well as a political one: if he could forgive those people who imprisoned him for 27 years and who actually wanted him dead, and who dragged his family out of their home, if he could forgive them enough to become *their* leader and to represent *their* interests, whom could I not forgive, ever? What a great challenge Mandela's example offers to each one of us for our own lives, for how we interact with one another on an individual and a global level.

I know that Invictus was not about what to do when the enemy is attempting to destroy your home, and so in some ways perhaps a comparison with Avatar is unfair. Invictus is about what happens after the underdog has already won, and how, when the underdog suddenly finds himself in a position of power, he finds a way to heal everyone involved. He finds a way to give them the real respect they never gave him, and to treat them with a humanity they never would have expected after the way they treated him (and those like him) for so very, very long. It gives me faith in humankind. A reason to hope. For *real* change. Lasting change. For peace. And for the safety and well-being of every person on this planet.

Ok, I think I'll get off my soapbox and go make a daisy chain now. Or maybe I'll try to catch up on my sleep, finally.

More holiday spirit

2009-12-17T20:00:00.000-08:00

Man, I am so full of holiday spirit this year... could it be because I'm (drumroll, in case you don't know) pregnant?!

Whatever the reason, I've been totally in the mood for Christmas since even before my birthday, in early December, which never happens. (It usually dawns on me that Christmas is coming less than a week before it arrives, when I'm finally done with my semester.) You might think this means that my decorations have all been put up and my presents are bought, wrapped, and sent out, along with my holiday cards... but you'd probably only really think that if you didn't know me.

In spite of all that spirit, I think I've decided not to get a real tree this year. Our plan was to get a fake tree for the man cave, on which we would put all of my husband's ornaments, and the customary real one downstairs, near the front door, for all of mine. But once we decked out the man cave and set up the fake tree it just looked so awesome that we've pretty much decided to move Christmas up there this year. Besides, we can't find the box with my husband's ornaments, and although we're hoping it will surface sooner or later, I thought I might just as well hang all of mine up there. So, there will be no stockings hung on the mantle downstairs (but they look so great hanging on the shelf near the tree upstairs), and no tree when I walk in the front door (ok, I'm thinking of getting a little potted plant for the spot). But ever since we made the man cave, in early 2009, we've spent most of our free time there anyway--I can't remember the last time we hung out in the living room--so it kind of seems right.

I've also been really into holiday activities with the homeschoolers this year, the latest of which was making gingerbread houses today:

Danny, one of the younger ones, was stuffing candy in his pockets; when it started to fall out he did the logical thing and transferred it to his boot:

This house ended up being a joint effort by George and me, because he got bored with it after awhile:

Gingerbread (ok, Graham Cracker) Row:

Voila, our Christmas table centerpiece for this year. Who knows: it may end up being the only decoration downstairs....