The new blog

http://sustainablydiabetic.blogspot.com/

A little milestone

So we had our two-week appointment yesterday with our pediatric endocrinologist. We're big fans of Dr. Amy, and we were excited to hear that she happens to the medical director for diabetes camp, which Noah will attend this summer. She's just super down-to-earth and kind; she spent the first few minutes of the appointment with her arm around Noah. Considering he's going to be with her several times a year until he graduates college, it's a good relationship to foster.

Anyway, he's been struggling to keep his blood sugar up, so we reduced his dosage of his basal/long-acting insulin, and (drum roll...) we've transitioned to per meal dosing. Yay! Basically, this means that instead of having a consistent mealtime fast-acting insulin dose, and then trying to match the amount of carbs in his meal to that dose, we now get to decide what to feed him, count those carbs, and then give him insulin to match. This is oddly liberating when it comes to planning meals, but more than that, it means we've stepped a little further into "real life" as a family with a diabetic kid. Matching the insulin to the intake is the way it's supposed to be done, but everyone starts off the other way to get a handle on "patient's" insulin-to-carb ratio.

And, even more exciting, we don't have to go back to the doctor for another 2 and a half months, at which point they'll test his A1C, which is the real measure of how we're all managing Noah's diabetes. Perhaps I'll explain A1C in a later post, but I doubt it will really hold anyone's interest.

And along those lines, I think this blog may be coming to an end. Simply put, diabetes has taken over our lives. I count carbs in my dreams. I'm constantly evaluating our food stashes to make sure I have frosting, glucose tabs and juice boxes in every car, every backpack and every purse. Yesterday I panicked because Noah didn't finish his breakfast, and I didn't realize it until I had put him on the bus. Thus ensued frantic phone calls to school, to get in touch with his teacher, to have her send him to the nurse and drink a box of juice, lest he get a low.

But he came home with a low anyway, as has been his pattern for the past few days. Which means scrambling to wash his hands, test his blood, get 15 grams of carbs in him and then wait, not-so-patiently, for the number to come up.

Dinnertime was somewhat annoying before (kids acting insane in the witching hour, trying to match when dinner is ready to the ever-changing arrival time of my husband, me being exhausted at the end of the day, etc.). Now, it's utterly chaotic. Staving off Noah's hunger so he doesn't ruin his dinner, simultaneously trying to ward off a low while dinner is cooking; getting Noah to do everything he has to do (again, wash his hands, test his blood), which is not always successful, sometimes he does it fairly willingly, but other days he still balks, whines or cries; actually cooking dinner; counting the carbs in the dinner and measuring out Noah's portion; calculating Noah's insulin dose; answering the phone when Matt calls to tell me that he is a) on his way home; or b) not yet on his way home, and adjusting dinner accordingly; writing down what's on the menu for Noah, his glucose numbers, his carb-count and his dose.

It's all truly exhausting and all-consuming. And I know that frankly, none of you guys care to hear all of the gory details. So that leaves me either blogging to myself, or leaving it alone, so I'll likely chose the latter. And I make this proclamation to avoid any negligent-blogging guilt trips by the Boy Wonder. ;-)

A new blog is in the works, however. My dear friend, Catherine, is spear-heading the design and coding. As some of you may have guessed, I am kind of a freak about whole, organic, local, sustainable foods. Then enter diabetes. It has completely changed the game. We've heard from lots of people, including our dietitians, that otherwise healthy families tend to develop less healthy diets over time because of the convenience of processed foods when it comes to counting carbs. You'd be amazed how much of the "Help your diabetic kid" books out that are devoted to carb counts for happy meals and canned fruit. And try to find a farmer's market style-cookbook that provides nutritional information. And diabetes management doesn't exactly fit with my style of cooking, which thus far has been "a little of this, a little of that into the pot, and see what happens." I need to create a database for myself and other like-minded families with tips, ideas, recipes, cheat sheets, etc. for how to keep a diabetic kid healthy without resorting to the middle aisles of the mega-grocers. And I need to vent diabetes bullshit to an audience that won't think I'm whining or overreacting. I've gotten enough feedback so far to know that not everyone thinks this is that big of a deal. Sigh. We'll see how it goes....

Diabetes Blows

I am about to spend $132 on Amazon, and I don't give a shit. Because my baby is has Type 1 diabetes, so who really gives a shit what our credit card balance is? My purchases are:

1) Digital scale for measuring food in grams

2) Two books detailing proper carb counting, including carb factor listings

3) Two books on how to parent kids with diabetes

4) One book all about insulin

5) One book that purports to teach me how to "Think Like a Pancreas." That one was purchased for the name alone -- tons of positive reviews by parents of newly diagnosed kids was just a bonus.

6) A DVD on yoga for stress relief. My power yoga videos aren't quite cuttin' it these days. Need something a little more mellow.

7) A copy of The Help. Heard it's a great book, and I need something to read besides diabetes books, right?

8) The unrated version of The Hangover. Must have something to help us laugh.

9) The New Moosewood Cookbook. Borrowed it from the library. Must. Have. Own. Copy.

The oil spill

This makes me so sad.

On a "warmer" note... 72 degrees!

It's a Minnesota miracle! Or so they tell us. This was the first March on record without snow here in the now un-frozen tundra. And with the early thaw came all sorts of things I didn't expect, including a return of many residents of our herb garden. We've taken advantage of the gorgeous weather to get started on our cleaning, weeding and planting. We're trying some new things this year and learning as we go.

The golden raspberry bush, coming back to life, bringing forth lots of little babies.

Basil & cilantro in pots, because although it's been warm and although I've only lived in Minnesota a year and a half, I'm no dummy. I can bring them in if we get a cold spell. Also in the pots are arugula and swiss card seeds. In the coconut grass planter, I've transplanted some chocolate mint -- hoping it catches and does well in the hanging planter. Chocolate mint mojitos anyone?

The herb garden is reborn! The oregano, chives, sage & thyme are all doing well. And there's still hope for a curly parsley plant. To the left I've planted some lettuce beds -- Forrellenschluss and two musclun mixes.
Here's our new cherry tree. The cherries will be tart, not sweet, so with any luck, there will be lots of cherry pies, crisps, tarts and jams in the Tomback house this July. We're hoping to add a couple of plum trees in the next few weeks.

And here's the zucchini that came as a total surprise. This is exactly where it was last year, so apparently a seed from a hunk of vegetable that got left in the ground all winter decided to make a come back. Yay!

This little hard-to-see baby is one of our two new blueberry bushes. They have both been ravaged by some little fucker -- probably a rabbit. They're still alive, so I'm hoping they can rally and make it through. I've watered them like crazy and covered them with netting to prevent any further mutilation. I've also sprinkled the area liberally with fox urine pellets. Fingers crossed!

And these are my gorgeous seedlings chillin' in under the flourescent light in the workroom. I actually have two trays, and they are full of 4 varieties of tomatoes, 5 varieties of peppers, 2 kinds of eggplant and okra. Now I know what all of you are thinking -- especially the NYC crowd: Mary, are you crazy trying to grow Okra in Zone 4? Well, yes, this is perhaps a fruitless endeavor (pun completely intended). But this variety is more cold-hardy than others, and you only live once, right? So why not just throw caution to the wind and try to grow okra! This is the first year starting my own seeds, and so far, so good. With any luck at this point, I'll even have some extra plants to pass along for my neighbors' gardens.

And finally, Noah, Luke & our neighbor Symone making a frickin' disaster at the sand/water table. Totally worth the mess.

No, no, no!!

I came across this today on Facebook. Right now, I really should be in my garage, pricing things and setting up for my garage sale tomorrow. But I can't. I'm going to write this instead.

A large part of the reason I practice my faith these days at an Episcopal congregation is because I don't agree with the Vatican on much of anything. I want to be a devout Catholic -- really, I do. But I love receiving communion during Mass from a female priest. God Bless You, Rev. Nancy! I love that everyone at Mass is invited to partake in communion. I love that I am not banished to confession if I miss services on any given week. I love that my priest would not send me marching off to confession upon learning that (back in our fertile days), my husband and I were pretty attached to our birth control. I love that I am great friends with the WIFE of our priest, i.e., I love that our priest gets to have a WIFE. I love that the diocese of Minnesota nominated a lesbian priest to be its new bishop, because Episcopalians, as a denomination, have nothing against homosexuals. And I love that I can go to services and experience the same rituals and traditions that I treasure about having grown up Catholic.

And I have tried to refrain from too much judgment against the MODERN Catholic church in the wake of the most recent news of priest sex scandals. Initially, I did not blame the church for the fact that some of its priests molested young children. I ABSOLUTELY point my finger directly and solely at the church for those times when priests molested children AGAIN -- those times when the accused were quietly shuffled to a new congregation. But as to Pope Benedict and the current Vatican, I didn't necessarily hold too large a grudge because much of what was coming to light now were atrocities that occurred in the past. And I frankly wasn't paying too much attention to Cardinal Ratzinger's role in any of the previous cover-ups, simply because I didn't care enough.

But now I care. Because when the Pope's #2 says publicly that "he's been told" there is "a relationship between homosexuality and pedophilia," I want to scream. Sure there is, in that some pedophiles are homosexuals. And other pedophiles are heterosexuals. But that's not what he was insinuating, and the world knows it.

This comment was apparently made amidst the debate about the forced celibacy of priests, the idea being, that if priests were allowed to be married, perhaps they wouldn't have such sexual hang-ups and issues that may play a part in the pathology leading them to pedophilia. Sure -- I buy that.

But I think the conversation needs to go one step further. Specifically, the Catholic church (and every other religion that condemns homosexuals) needs to recognize that homosexuality is not a sickness. It's not a crime. It's not a sin. It's not something to be scared of, shunned and hidden. Let's consider all of the sick bastards during the 50s, 60s, 70s, who were molesting young boys: first of all, I don't believe all of them were homosexuals. Priests' access to kids back in the day was most often with boys, because only boys were allowed to be altar servers. So I'm sure some of them were actually fucked up heterosexuals who were choosing their victims based on access and availability, more than sexual orientation. But with respect to those who would have considered themselves homosexuals, I believe very strongly that many of them entered the priesthood as an escape. It was not okay for them to be gay -- not in their families, their communities, or their churches. They felt they had no choice but to repress this identity. They were taught homosexuality was a curse, a disgusting, sinful curse that would land them straight in hell. So their call to the priesthood, as genuine as it may have been, was a perfectly acceptable escape. Priests weren't sexual beings, after all, so it didn't matter if they felt sexual feelings for men, rather than women, because they couldn't act on them anyway. BUT, they nevertheless had to hide this part of their identities in every aspect of their lives. Moreover, they had to preach to their congregants the evils of homosexuality. How on earth could this not have fucked them up even more?

Is all of this an excuse for pedophilia in the church? Absolutely not. But isn't it reasonable to consider it a factor in the discussion of the guilty priests? It speaks nothing to the other criminal behavior at work -- the persistent cover-up by the church -- but if we're going to talk about why this can happen in the church at all, I think this topic is relevant.

Thank you, New York!

So, someone or something during our travels last week gave me a cold. Yuck. I'm just now feeling semi-normal again. So forgive my belated note/blog of thanks -- we had such a wonderful time! And we absolutely LOVED seeing each and every one of you. It was the perfect way to spend Sweetie's birthday! Some pictures -- the second one is Noah's butt in front of the T-rex at the museum. He insisted on that one. The last one of is Noah riding his bike without training wheels for the first time.

#8 and #9

8. The Stone Diaries by Carol Shields. Won the Pulitzer Prize in 1993. I picked it up at our church's book sale last summer for $1 -- can't say that I would have gravitated toward it in a book store or sought it out. But it was a really beautiful novel -- the story of a woman from her birth through her death, told from the interchangeable perspective of the people in her life, and occasionally from her own perspective. Haven't decided whether I'll put it back in the donation box for next year or if I'll keep it as part of our "library."

9. A Year in Provence by Peter Mayle. Love Provence. Love the French. Have an unshakable urge to go bask in the sun outside of a cafe eating, drinking, smelling the lavender and gazing out at the vineyards.

A point of clarification

I have given this some more thought since writing the last post, and I can actually think of many republicans I know and love who are not, in any way, douchebags -- my father, being a prime example. And I wholeheartedly apologize to those people I love whom I have offended by my stream-of-consciousness ranting.

I'm still bewildered by the positions the PARTY takes, however. Some of them truly seem contradictory to me, particularly when espoused by the hard-core Christian right. And I'm still disgusted by the tactics employed by some of its more vocal and extremist leadership. For example, twittering that it's time to "reload," mocking, ridiculing and belittling a sick man at a rally, suggesting Obama is a Muslim (inherently implying there's a problem with being a Muslim), etc. The debates we are having in this country are not civilized. They are petty and immature and shameful.

One of the most pathetic aspects of these behaviors is the inability to see that the pot is calling the kettle black. And for that, I will now call out some of the democrat douchebags that have sickened me as of late. Mr. Stupak and Mr. Nelson are prime examples -- cutting deals and making stinks that undermine any genuine attempts at good faith negotiations. And don't even get me started of John Edwards. I feel so duped that I bought into his "poor, Southern boy made good" act. How these charming southern-boy, philandering jackasses can look right into a camera and bold-faced LIE about fathering a child or getting blow job from an intern is beyond me. Is it idiocy, or arrogance, or naivete that allows them to believe they will get away with the lies?

So it's settled -- there are republican douchebags and democrat douchebags. But I would love to engage in a "mature" policy discussion (one in which I will refrain from labeling anyone a douchebag or a jackass) SOMEDAY. (But not anytime soon. And not over pizza. And not in LaPorte. ;-) Love you, Mrs. Howard!!)

Partisan Politics

I'm confused about something, and I have been for a while. I started drafting this post in my head as I was driving around, listening to a caller chime-in on the health care debate on NPR. I'd love for any of the loyal NINE readers to explain the following to me.

I know a lot of Christian fundamentalists, or people who would otherwise label themselves as very religious (choice of word important here -- I do not mean "spiritual"), who are die-hard Republicans. They want the government to stay out of their lives. (An example, I heard today that Texas Governor Rick Perry is planning a lawsuit to challenge the constitutionality of the newly-enacted health care reform bill, urging Texans -- including the 6 million without insurance -- "to take responsibility for their own health.") Yet another tenet of the party platform is "American values," which loosely translated seems to mean no assistance for illegal immigrants, no abortions and no gay marriage, or even according to some people, no equality for same-sex couples.

The latter strikes me as among the most significant possible infringements by government in one's life -- the government in your bedroom and in your uterus. (I, for one, would much rather have the government in my health insurance company.) Yet most conservatives welcome that infringement and fight for it, assumingly because they place themselves on such high moral ground that this invasion of privacy wouldn't affect them, the heterosexual virgins-until-marriage that we know all them to be. But surely some of these devout church-goers are themselves without health insurance? Perhaps, dare I say, some of them may be smokers, or diabetics, or otherwise at risk for a chronic health condition that could render them uninsurable or financially crippled due to out-of-pocket healthcare costs under our current system? Universal health care in general is virulently opposed by conservatives, notwithstanding the fact that it could help them, their neighbors, their families, their friends and their communities, because they don't want government in their lives. Apparently, they'd rather have the millions of Americans without insurance die broke from a disease that wasn't properly treated, than have some government-run health care. Because some version of the current bill would have theoretically allowed healthcare funds be used to subsidize abortions, even those abortions that are medically necessary, the whole bill is rendered evil and catastrophic. I don't get it.

Bravo to the group of Catholic nuns who urged Congress to pass the healthcare reform bill, despite official opposition by the U.S. Council of Catholic Bishops. These brave women wrote that the bill "will uphold longstanding conscience protections and it will make historic new investments – $250 million – in support of pregnant women. . . . This is the REAL pro-life stance, and we as Catholics are all for it.” But one nun in particular went even farther, writing that national health care must include “Medicaid funding for a woman on Medicaid … who chooses this legal medical procedure.” God bless her and all those people that prayerfully dissent from what their religious leaders tell them and choose to recognize that this issue is not so one-sided.

Speaking more broadly, I remember what someone told me once about democrats and republicans. I was in college at the time, interning for the summer with U.S. Congressman Charles Taylor in NC, a Republican. He was a tree farmer, and a logger, and cast numerous votes that destroyed much of the western NC wilderness. These things didn't bother me at the time -- I knew I wanted to go to law school, he was the congressman from my home district, and I wanted the experience for my applications.

The other experience I was getting that summer was as a public relations intern for the United Way. When I was shoved into the dark, dank, dusty basement of the congressman's fundraising office to "clean and organize" YEARS worth of press clippings and notes from constituents, I came across several letters to the editors of area newspapers from my supervisor at the United Way, railing on the congressman. I talked to her about it at some point, and she told me that she thought democrats tended to be nicer people than republicans, because their platform is based on helping people, rather than forcing everyone to make it on their own.

At the time, I thought this was complete crap. I'm not sure I do anymore. I'm confused. Because all of the issue that are important to me -- conserving resources and being kind to the earth, promoting diversity, ensuring a healthy food supply, making sure ALL children have access to the SAME quality of food, education, and health care, giving those people who got dealt a crappy hand in life some support, treating all people with dignity, respect and fairness -- are NOT supported by the republicans. That are strongly, loudly and shamelessly opposed by most republicans. To me, these beliefs epitomize a pro-life ideology; specifically, I think these things are exactly what Jesus -- the religious leader so many conservatives claim to follow -- preached. Jesus said that God is the judge, not man. He said help your neighbor out. He begged us to love the earth the God created for us (in 6 days of course, a mere several thousand years ago.) He brought compassion to those people the community ostracized and condemned. He pleaded with people to not be douchebags to each other. (My words, not his.)

So I'm going to need some help here. I have found myself more and more lately leaning toward the dangerous predisposition that republicans = douchebags. I know this can't possibly be true. So I need someone to explain to me how and why I'm wrong. Please.

UPDATE: Bob Herbert is preaching to the choir! Preach on!!

He did it!

Noah can now ride his bicycle without the training wheels! We're so proud!!

He turns 6 in little over a month. Many younger kids in the 'hood are already riding two-wheelers, but he's been really nervous about it thus far. Last fall, he was insistent that he couldn't do it, and he was working hard on his Razor. We figured that would teach him some balance, so that would be a good primer for his bike.

This week, in the crazy, gorgeous spring-like weather, we took a couple of trips to the park, one of them with Symone, our neighbors' daughter. She is about 8 months older than Noah, and she is a champ on her bike. She rode her bike and Noah rode his scooter, and he was thoroughly pissed that she was going faster than he was. You could see his mind churning -- he was obviously deciding he was going to figure out that bike.

So Matt took him out today, and withing 2 minutes, he was on his own. He was so proud of himself. It was one of those beautiful parenting moments. Pictures to follow.

P.S. Matt wanted me to add that he can't believe Kansas lost.

Thank God for Spring

I'll admit that, thus far in my life, Spring has been my least favorite season. I found it boring, dirty and ugly. Fall was where the action was at as far as I was concerned -- occasional Indian summer days, apples orchards and pumpkin patches, gorgeous colors everywhere you look, big beautiful mums on front porches, breaking in the fire place for the season, preparing for the holidays. All of these things, of course, lead to first snowfalls, sledding rides, ice skating, lots of fires, hot chocolate and wool socks. I love being cozy, so winter was just fine by me. And summer... well, who doesn't like summer? Spring just paled in comparison to all of the joys the other seasons held, and so for me, it was nothing more than a means to an end.

That is, until I moved to the frozen tundra and learned why God invented spring. It's the reward for making it through three months without seeing anything green; three months of being unable to expose any skin to the elements; three months of anxiety and worry when your kids had to traverse the ice that covered nearly every patch of pavement. Three months of not seeing your neighbors, of having to take the car to drive your baby down the block to the bus. Three months of choosing between being cooped up in your house or freezing your ass off.

I understand now, having lived through (almost, anyway) my second winter in Minnesota, that spring is utterly beautiful in its own right. Sure, I could talk about rebirth, new beginnings, awakenings, etc., as part of the glory of the season. And those things are all well and good. But they aren't the best parts.

The best parts are the little things that you can shed as part of your daily life that you didn't once think were a big deal but that eventually weigh you down. Like being able to get out the door five minutes sooner because you're not putting on gloves, hats and scarves. Having your child climb into his own carseat because he is no longer restrained by the bulk of his winter coat. Finishing off a bottle of Vitamin D supplements and not needing to rush to the co-op for more. Telling your kids to please, for the love of God, go outside and leave you alone for five minutes. (Sure, I could have done this in the winter, but inevitably, I would spend 15 minutes getting everyone suited up in their bib-style snowpants, boots, and other winter-wear essentials, they'd be out for 7 1/2 minutes, then someone would need to pee and we'd have to go through the whole process all over again. So not worth it.)

There are now more parking spots available at preschool and Target because mounds of snow have not been plowed into 1/3 of them. I ran around Lake Harriet today because it was finally warm enough to avoid my cold-weather asthma. The last few mornings, I have filled up my coffee cup, strolled with Noah to his bus stop and then chatted for a minute with the neighbors before heading home.

And this past weekend was a beautiful, wonderful, fantastic, perfect weekend. It was mostly sunny and 55 degrees. Admittedly, that's not exactly "warm," but it felt like heaven. We finally took down the outdoor Christmas lights! Hah! Who knew we'd turn into rednecks when we moved to Minnesota? Last year we thought everyone was being festive and fun by leaving their decorations out for so long. Now we know the truth. A) it's too damn cold to go outside in January (or February) to take them down; and B) even if you wanted to, the damn things are frozen in place anyway.

The boys broke out the scooters and did a few loops around. We even put Noah on his bike, sans training wheels, and he managed a few rides down the street with daddy just holding the seat. Friends came over on Sunday night and we cooked burgers on the grill, then ate outside! We also took Mabel for a walk. This in and of itself is huge, since she shivers like the dickens and is rendered immobile when temperature dips below 40.

I feel like a new woman. I know that we're likely to get at least another snowfall and some more days of freezing temperatures before winter is completely behind us for this year, but that's ok. This weekend showed us the light at the end of the tunnel. We can make it. And for the first year ever, I will actually enjoy every single spring-like moment we get.

Our hats go off to you, Dr. Chien

This is so frickin' awesome. If you haven't seen the documentary King of Kong, rent it immediately. If you have already seen it, you'll love this.

http://www.bestweekever.tv/2010-03-10/our-long-national-nightmare-is-over-billy-mitchell-dethroned-as-donkey-kong-king-2/

Still, with the Avett Brothers

On Friday night, sweetie & I saw the best concert of our lives -- the Avett Brothers, at First Avenue, a club in Minneapolis. It was even better than their show last summer. We loved every single minute of it, and we were practically depressed the rest of the weekend because it was over. I would talk more about this incredible show, but my previous attempts to show my readership the light on the brilliance of the Brothers have been met with resistance (you know who you are, losers), so I won't do so again here.

In other news, signs of spring are appearing here in the frozen tundra. Specifically, we see grass! Disgusting, muddy, brown, matted patches of grass, and it's beautiful in all of its hopeful, energizing splendor. Most of the grass is still covered with snow, but more is melting every day. I even ordered seeds this weekend! I'll probably do a separate seed post soon, but I'm planning to start some of my own in my workroom under a fluorescent light, and then direct seed the ones that I can. I'm planning an herb and lettuce bed, a separate mint bed, kales & swiss chard as edible landscaping along the front walk, and lots more in the back beds. Again, more later.

Also to celebrate spring, we took a big walk around the lake with friends. Only in Minnesota do you celebrate the 42-degree weather the first weekend in March with a 3 mile walk around a frozen lake with the whole family.

And the weekend was capped off with me watching the Oscars alone in bed while Matt worked. Someone please explain -- who told Charlize Theron that dress was a good idea?

The Beauties

Well, discussion in my last post sparked lots of commentary, so I thought that you would all love to see a picture of my gorgeous girls (and by this I, of course, mean the Le Cresuet pans).

What you see here is the 7 1/4 quart Dutch Oven and the 3 1/2 quart buffet, both in Dune. I love them desperately. The buffet was a last minute decision, but I'm thrilled with it. I've made dinner in there twice already in the past three nights of cooking, and I'm going to use it again tonight. It's going to prove to be very useful, I'm sure. And I'm sure some of you are thinking (as my sweetie did ), "Why Dune when there are other so much more interesting colors?" True, some would consider this choice boring. But it isn't to me. To me its classic and tasteful and gorgeous. I absolutely love the decorating combination of creams and whites because it is clean, simple, fresh, bright and versatile. Those colors are the palette for the whole kitchen (and the better part of the house, actually). We also got a 9 1/2 in. non-stick stainless steel saute pan, which has also already seen a lot of use. One of the best thing about all of these is that Le Creuset offers a lifetime warranty. Anything ever happens to the pan, just bring it back and get new one. Ahh, love.

Another Tuesday morning

I'm writing this blog post well-aware that no one will likely read it, save Sweetie. Jeff is in Asia, Brian is in trial, Andrew is neck deep in a thesis and Nilda has a life. With only five readers, it's amazing that I so willingly crumbled when faced with Boy Wonder's guilt-trip and now attempt to blog with regularity. I need to re-think the theme of the blog, to aim for some consistency. But then again, with only five of you reading it, who cares? Blogging has served the worthwhile purpose of maintaining our friendships -- making me, at least, feel like you are all not quite as far away -- but without the hassle of direct human contact. Hah.

I should have put some toasted pecans in my steel-cut oatmeal this morning.

For lack of a more compelling topic, I shall talk about my kitchen activities. I've always been somewhat hit-or-miss with my culinary endeavors. Usually the quality of the results suffers from lack of patience and failure to research properly my methodology. And then there's the perpetual problem of failing to be creative enough to use up -- fully -- what I have, instead of making unnecessary grocery store runs.

I was inspired on our mini-vacation to Texas by a fabulous cafe, The Lunchbox. It was open for breakfast and lunch, and relied heavily on locally sourced ingredients. Galveston is not yet too deeply invested in the local food movement -- no real presence of farmer's markets, co-ops, or health food stores. This is particularly unfortunate since the climate is so amenable to year-round growing, but apparently the soil isn't so great, and why waste land for food when it can be used to refine oil? So this place, just two blocks from my brother's apartment, is unique, particularly because it serves as a farmer's market of sorts, allowing patrons to purchase extra stuff from the owners' network of farmers, which includes backyard gardeners.

Anyway, the owners had some great stuff on their menu that got me to thinking. And I came home and started reading through some more of my cookbooks -- particularly Heidi Swanson's Super Natural Cooking and my Alice Waters Collection.

Then, on Saturday, we went to the Le Creuset's outlet for it's sale, and I got a couple of new pans. They are gorgeous and I adore them and they make me want to spend more time in my kitchen playing around and experimenting. Words cannot adequately express my love for these enameled cast-iron beauties.

And we're also going to be doing a little project in the kitchen -- taking out some kitchen cabinets over the countertop peninsula and installing some heavy-duty open shelving on the wall on top of our sideboard. I'm going for a rustic, eclectic "country" kitchen, something that is worthy of being the heart of the house. We've got the fireplace/grill in here, tons of light, open to the rest of the house, great view of the backyard (and the garden, come spring), so I'm super excited.

This past weekend I made some fantastic oatmeal chocolate chip cookies with walnuts (which were absolutely incredible dunked in our morning coffee). Sunday night Matt made burgers (ground beef from our CSA -- yum!) on our indoor grill in the kitchen fireplace with some lemon garlic broccoli. Yesterday I made a chicken stock that came out really well. For lunch I did an avocado & grapefruit salad. Last night for dinner I threw together (in my beautiful new Le Creuset casserole) a dish of local polish sausage, onions, sweet potatoes, canned tomatoes and cannellini beans, with red wine, sage & oregano. It was pretty decent. Today I'm going to make some lemon blueberry cookies substituting half of the flour for almond meal. I'm working on getting some gluten and refined sugars out of our diets, so I've got to get cracking on some more cookie recipes.

Ok, enough talking to myself. Time to exercise.

#'s 5, 6 7 and 7 1/2

During our trip to Galveston, I powered through a bunch of books. So I continue my quest for 25 this year with the following:

5) Mindless Eating by Brian Wansink Ph.D.: this book was basically a regurgitation of tons of studies this guy has done about how and why we eat what we do. Some pretty interesting tidbits in there, including that children of big families tend to eat more, faster because of the "you snooze, you lose" mentality regarding dinner and snacks. As the only girl in a house of three boys and a dad with a big appetite, if there was something yummy in the house, I learned to eat as much as I wanted as fast as I wanted, lest it be gone the next time I was hungry. Unfortunately, this rarely applied to fruit or vegetables, but instead to poptarts and doritos. Those things never lasted more than a couple of hours in our house. The most notable example of this phenomenon occurred when "we" ate all of my brother Mike's birthday cake (I believe I was in college at the time, so it wasn't me, and I'm pretty sure that the bulk of that cake was digested by my father, having likely forgotten it was anyone's birthday). Anyway, an interesting book, and I think there might be some noteworthy items in there for Andrew's thesis.

6) Fieldwork, by Mischa Berlinski: my first work of fiction in the group. This is the story of an American journalist bumming around Thailand while his girlfriend is there teaching English. He gets caught up in the story of a female anthropologist imprisoned for murdering a missionary. She commits suicide right after finishing a couple of papers on life inside the prison. It was a pretty good book -- I got through all 300+ pages in about a day and a half, but the ending was somewhat anticlimactic. Tons of build up to some incredible ending, but then just kind of fizzled. Maybe I read it too fast and missed something. But still interesting. Almost made me want to move to Thailand. Definitely made me happy I'm not an anthropologist.

7) Into Thin Air, by Jon Krakauer: admittedly, this was re-read. My brother had borrowed it and I had run out of books to read for the ride home, so I just re-read this one. And I loved it -- again. I came home and dug around for more of the stories of the other climbers and the backlash against Krakauer for his alleged finger-pointing in the book. I actually don't think that he was blaming anyone in particular, and I think he did a decent job of accepting some blame himself, which he may or may not deserve. He was one of the first ones down, seemed to be physically one of the best off, both before and after the summit, but he didn't take part in any way in any of the rescue efforts. He even left Beck Weathers lying in the tent freezing and started down on his own, apparently on the advice of the other climbers, all of whom concluded Weathers was going to die anyway and they would have enough trouble getting down on their own. So, it might be that Krakauer is a self-centered douchebag, or maybe he was just crazy tired and doing his best to stay alive. Never having met the guy, nor having ever tried to climb anything higher than Crowder's "Mountain" (read, "big hill"), in Charlotte, I'm not going to judge. Regardless, he writes a great book.

7 1/2) The Rape of Nanking, by Iris Chang: This book describes the events surrounding the Japanese takeover of Nanking, China in 1936. By conservative accounts, the Japanese tortured and massacred at least 200,000 Chinese (some estimates have it as high as almost 400,000), most of whom were civilians, including women, children and the elderly. I had to stop this one halfway through, to stave off the inevitable nightmares and depression. There has been lots of backlash against this book -- no doubt Chang had an agenda. She's a Chinese-American whose grandparents have fled Japanese invasions. So, she's pissed. Specifically, she was taking issue in the book with the fact that Japanese war criminals were never prosecuted for the atrocities of Nanking, nor has the Japanese government ever atoned or apologized for the brutality that occurred there. The descriptions (many of which included pictures) detailed the murders and rapes (including rapes of pregnant women, which the Japanese soldiers completed by using a bayonet to slice open her abdomen, rip out her intestines, then the baby, then bayoneting the baby; sons being forced to have sex with their mothers; fathers being forced to rape their daughters). The Chinese were allegedly beheaded, burned alive, buried alive, eaten by dogs, etc., etc. Lots of Japanese historians question the death count (although independent agencies have estimated, conservatively 260,000) and the mode of death. But it seems fairly solid that in six weeks, Japanese soldiers individually killed more people than those killed at Hiroshima and Nagasaki combined. I'm not necessarily saying one was better or worse than the other, but ever since I was a kid and learned about those bombings, I've been ashamed, and I've questioned how America and humanity could ever engage in such an act (this is the same guilt I carry about the Japanese internment during WWII, slavery, the massacres of Native Americans, etc. -- in short, I'm ridiculously naive and idealistic). But now I have a little more perspective -- the Japanese weren't saints themselves, nor were the Chinese. But my feelings about escaping to an island somewhere (it used to be an igloo, but my love for winter is fading quickly...), shunning my national identity, avoiding politics and commercialism and materialism, has been strengthened significantly.

My children don't speak English

Matt and I thought we were teaching them how to speak and understand English as their native language, but we can now see that we were wrong. The common English words and phrases listed below are utterly incomprehensible to our children. Following the English phrase, I will include our perception of what Noah & Luke hear us to be saying.

1. "Don't ask me again" = ask me again in 3 minutes, but this time with more intensity.

2. "Please aim for your pee pee into the toilet" = try to hit the wall, the floor and even the shower curtain, depending on your angle, but do whatever it takes to avoid the toilet.

3. "Please go put your shoes away in your room" = throw your shoes into the middle of your room while you stand in the hallway.

4. "Please just leave me alone for 10 more minutes so I can finish exercising" = stand next to me for the next 10 minutes screaming "NOW NOW NOW!!!"

5. "Luke, you cannot have your mimi [pacifier] if you aren't sleeping" = stand there, close your eyes, and make snoring sounds, but under no circumstances let go of the mimi.

6. "Go wash your hands" = put your hands under cold water for 1.2 seconds.

7. "If you don't take a bite to at least try what mommy cooked for dinner, you aren't going to get any dessert" = push your plate away screaming, then crawl onto mommy's lap, cuddle her adorably, and ask if you can have your dessert now.

8. "For the love of God please pick up these legos before one of us hurts ourselves" = this one seems to have no translation whatsoever. Such a phrase repeatedly falls upon deaf ears. I think the vaccuum cleaner bag is the new lego container. But if those boys think I'm sifting through that nastiness (again) to find their missing lego piece, they're nuts.

9. "Ok, but this is your last one" = you can have as many as you want, so long as you continue nagging mom!

10. "Relax, just relax" = Louder! LOUDER! DON'T STOP NOW!!

#3 and #4

Today I wrapped up two books. First is I'm a Stranger Here Myself by Bill Bryson. I'm a huge fan of his, having read A Short History of Nearly Everything, Lost Continent, and, one of my all-time favorites, A Walk in the Woods. This one did not disappoint. It's a compilation of the columns he wrote for a British newspaper when he moved back to U.S. (Hanover, New Hampshire) after having spent the past 20 years in Britain. Here's my favorite passage. He's describing his attempts to find a winter pastime in New Hampshire, and here he's taking his daughter ice-skating:

And I do know how to skate, honestly. It's just that my legs, after years of inactivity, got a little overecited to be confronted with so much slipperiness. As soon as I stepped onto the ice, they decided they wanted to visit every corner of the pond at once, from lots of different directions. They went this way and that, scissoring and splaying, sometimes getting as much as twelve feet apart, but constantly gathering momentum, until at last they flew out from udner me and I landed on my butt with such a wallop that my coccyx hit the roof of my mouth and i had to push my esophagus back in with my fingers.

"Wow!" said my startled butt as I clambered heavily back to my feet. "That ice is hard."

"Hey, let ME see," cried by head and instantly down I went again.

And so it went for the next thirty minutes, with various extremities of my body -- shoulders, chin, nose, one or two of the more adventurous internal organs -- hurling themselves at the ice in a spirit of investigation. From a distance I suppose I must have looked like someone being worked over by an invisible gladiator."

Admittedly, this strikes a cord given our recent recreational activities. Great, quick read.

I've also just finished How to Practice; the Way to a Meaningful Life, by His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Interestingly enough, this one wasn't quite as entertaining as #3. I was interested in learning a little more about Buddhism, so when I came across this on an endcap at a Target, I figured, "what the hell" (because, of course, all life-changing spiritual awakenings are prompted by purchases off an endcap at a major discount department store). I figure there are two kinds of people who would read this book, a) those people who wanted to read something by the Dalai Lama, to learn more about Buddhism, b) those people who were interested in putting themselves on the path toward enlightenment. Now, not everyone may know which category they fall into when they open the book. I was keeping an open-mind. I mean, I have been to that one Buddhist meditation retreat (it was three hours long, and I spent the final two hours and 45 minutes thinking about how incredibly uncomfortable I was having to sit criss-cross-applesauce), AND Buddhism seemed to do a lot for Tina Turner (at least according to Angela Basset's performance in What's Love Got to Do With It). So I was thinking, at least superficially, maybe I should get on board.

Well now, having finished the book, I can safely say that I am the "learning more about Buddhism" type. I'm not sure that the path to enlightenment is easily navigable for a stay-at-home mom in suburbia. Not that I didn't get what His Holiness was saying (ok, well, I didn't get all of it), but it's just that that shit seemed really hard. For what it's worth though, the tenets of Buddhism seem to come down to one thing: help others, and if that's not possible, do no harm. That's something I can aspire to.

For parents of young children

This article speaks to me, in what I aspire to as a parent, and in what I am horribly guilty of as a parent. And on this particular subject, it should be noted that I always negotiate with toddlers.

"Snack Time Never Ends," The New York Times.

I LOVE the Twin Cities!

I think I've done a post like this before, but this time of year, when it's currently -2 and there's been a foot+ of snow on the ground for more than 6 weeks, and spring is still several months off, it's important to remind myself of how awesome this place is. So,

Oh Twin Cities, how I love thee. Let me count the ways...

1. Last night, I needed a haircut, so I made an appointment at Juut's New Artist Academy. They use only Aveda stuff and have locations throughout the metro. Before you get your cut, you get a scalp, shoulder & face massage. Then, when you're having your hair washed, you get to lie down on a BED! And then you get a great cut (the people there are already stylists -- this is the graduate school of hair). All for $25!! Friggin' awesome.

2. The salon was in Uptown -- an area of town for people who think they are cool and want to be cool, but aren't quite hip enough to live in the really up-and-coming areas, like Seward. As I was driving around that neighborhood, I couldn't help but notice all of the great places to shop & eat. There's Falafel King, a spot that hearkens back to Matt's love affair with that shwarma place in the Village. There's Penzey's -- a specialty shop for spices and seasonings that are absolutely phenomenal. There's Bryant Lake Bowl -- a bowling alley & restaurant that is touted all over local sustainable living guides for it's eco-friendliness in its menu and practices. And there's a ton of consignment stores, non-chain coffee shops, second-hand bookstores & music stores and ethnic restaurants. I can't wait for warmer weather so we can load up the boys and go spend an afternoon wandering around.

3. Also in that neighborhood is French Meadow Bakery, so I stopped on my way home to get the Mr. & I some fancy desserts. I got a slice of a cappuccino chocolate torte, a tres leche cake and a passion fruit truffle (sorry sweetie, I ate that on my way home). They were wonderful, and we just ate them slowly and relaxed while we watched the State of the Union. Yum.

4. Anything that I have considered doing with my life (as a career), there's a school here to help me get it done. There are tons of options for me to get my master's in education (including a teaching fellows program), there are two acupuncture schools, there's a program for homeopathic medicine, there's a university that is offering a master's in holistic health sciences, which I could do jointly with a master's in social work. The yoga studio a couple miles away where I go offers instructor training -- a complete program for 200- or 290-hour certification. One of my only requirements when Matt and I were talking about where we wanted to move was that it be a place with opportunities for me to explore what I wanted to do professionally (this is the biggest strike for me against the little town in Vermont that we were considering...). Anyway, as it turns out, I've pretty much decided just to take the bar exam here next February and open my own practice -- yay! I'll specialize in family and adoption law, but to the extent I'm comfortable, I'll do some general stuff, too -- simple wills, health care proxies, formation documents for small businesses, etc. We have lots of friends and I know lots of people who can give me the connections to make this happen, and I'm actually kind of excited. The Twin Cities is this metropolitan area made up of little communities that are pretty self-serving. Several of our friends here in SLP actually grew up in SLP, and went to the same schools their kids go to. It's got a small-town vibe, with the benefits and opportunities of a bigger city. So I'm pretty confident that I can do this on my own terms. I will NOT be a slave to deposition schedules or motion practice or partner demands. I'll probably not make too much money, either, but I'll be in control of my own career.

5. Last weekend, sweetie and I took cross-country skiing lessons in a great regional park about 15 minutes from our house. There are three park options close to us that have groomed x-country trails that are even lighted at night. Next week I'm going skiing around a lake in the woods at night with a friend of mine. As much as I'm starting to feel the Vitamin-D deprivation, I am thrilled that we live in a place where this is possible. All of these parks have ski rentals (for $8), and the class was only $17 a person for two hours of instruction. This city (county? state?) is incredibly devoted to helping people get outdoors and enjoy what nature has to offer.

6. And along those lines, we're in love with the bike trail that we can hop on less than a 1/2 mile from our house. That trail can take Matt all the way to his office, or to get on the Grand Rounds, which encircle each of the major lakes in Minneapolis, or out to Lake Minnetonka, the huge resort-like lake that's a few miles in the opposite direction. It even goes right past Noah's school, so this spring, when we can get that boy riding a two wheeler, I can put Luke in the trailer and we can ride bikes to drop Noah off at school. Our neighbors do that all the time in the warmer weather. How awesome?

7. And speaking of schools, do to a recent structuring of the schools in SLP, our kids are going to be going to middle school now for grades 6-8 (instead of just 7-8), and the middle school is a block from our house. I'm so excited that our kids are going to get to walk back and forth to school -- that was something I always wanted to be able to do when I was a kid, but couldn't. AND, SLP's high school was just ranked #1 in the state -- a state which is consistently ranked high in the nation for education.

8. There are a gazillion ice-skating options all around us. Noah is doing lessons on Saturday mornings at the Rec Center (where the boys could also do rink rat hockey, swimming lessons, soccer, and through which I can do yoga, zumba, knitting classes, meditation classes, classes on thrifty grocery shopping, estate planning, gardening, cooking, and a million of things). But then we have all gone skating together, too. Last week we tried Oak Hill park, which has two small rinks -- one with a wall and the other with hockey nets, and then a track that encircles both. It had a great warming house where you could buy hot chocolate to placate your sons while mommy took one more loop outside, and there's also one of the best sledding hills in the city right next to the rinks.

9. 2 and 1/2 hours to Duluth & Lake Superior, 4 hours to the Boundary Waters, 10 hours drive from the Black Hills! A day and a half to Yellowstone!

10. CSAs -- in Charlotte, I had about three or four to choose from. Here there are about 20-30 to choose from. Sure, the growing season is a few weeks shorter (I got my first delivery in Charlotte toward the end of April; here they don't start delivering until the second week of June), but you get more root and cold-hearty vegetables, so that's the trade-off.

11. Co-ops and farmers' markets galore! I have 5 different co-ops that are within pretty easy driving distance for me. And our favorite farmers' market is the Mill City market. It is situated right in the middle of the old flour milling district on the Mississippi River. When developing the area, they did a tremendous job of preserving some the architecture and history of that area. But there's also the Guthrie Theater right there, parks, bike lanes, etc. And most importantly to the boys, there's a very nice Hmong man there that makes balloon animals. And most importantly to Matt, there's an incredible food stand that makes, reportedly, the best crab cakes in the city, and truly the most delicious donuts we've ever had. But when we don't feel like going all the way across downtown, we can go to a smaller little market just a couple of miles away -- it's the kind of place where the farmers stand behind their table to get to know your name when you're a repeat customer.

12. Early childhood education here is unlike any other place we've lived. There's mandatory pre-K screening to identify any developmental issues early. There's ECFE, which is a combo of parenting classes and preschool that almost everyone participates in. There's preschool programs subsidized by the city (Luke goes to one of these), and they have several options designed for low-income families, kids whose parents both work, and kids who need extra help. Luke's teachers talked to me about a little speech therapy for him, and they arranged for a specialist to come to his class to evaluate him. If he needs help, the cost will be covered by the city, as will transportation to and from sessions if we need it. For kindergarteners, the school identifies kids who may need a little extra help, and keeps them for an hour and a half after school ends, feeds them lunch, gives them an hour of small group instruction, then takes them home on the bus. Again, all free of charge to the parents.

13. Hennepin County libraries are awesome! I don't know anyone who doesn't go regularly. They even offer passes to all of the museums, zoos, etc., so you can check one out and go to any of them free of charge.

14. Westwood Nature Center, a block from our house, had an adorable Halloween party that we went to with friends, and the kids loved it. There's a mile and a half loop around the lake, there's a playground set in the woods, and there's a nature center that has playgroups, rents snowshoes, and hosts weekday classes for preschoolers, and week-long camps throughout the summer, in addition to workshops, hikes and programs designed for the whole family.

15. The restaurant options here are awesome. Tons of local, sustainable food options. Restaurants on the water and in high rises. Every ethnic choice you could hope for. And several of them try very hard to make kids welcome, at least during certain times (brunch, early dinner, etc.). Sure, there's still a line outside of the Olive Garden on a Saturday night, and we will admit to eating the at the Chili's down the road more often than we care to admit, but we have big aspirations for the culinary adventures we will embark upon when we don't have to bring crayons and legos with us.

16. The kite-flying festival on (frozen) Lake Harriet, the MN Zoo, the Minneapolis Institute of the Arts, the Walker Sculpture Garden, Eagle's Nest, tree-house like playgrounds, countless beaches where the kids can wile away hours playing the sand and trying to catch minnows, the REI with the kids' play area, the Lake Harriet-Lake Calhoun trolley, the MN State Fair, the Science Museum, fruit-picking orchards and fields galore, Prairie Home Companion, Liberty Custard, cheese curds, fire stations that give free tours AND rides for kids' birthday parties, Park Tavern Bowling Alley, and countless other things that we haven't even discovered yet.

17. The large airport 20 minutes away where we will go in less than a month to fly to Galveston, TX to visit my brother. We're using frequent flier miles, we'll get free lodging with Matt, and it was 70 degrees there two days ago, with no snow in site. Perfect.

I love my nieces

I love Kaia (almost 7) and Audie (3 1/2) for many, many reasons, not the least of which right now is that they allow me to live vicariously through them, both as a former doll-obsessed little girl, and a mother of two boys. My nieces, God bless them, love American Girl Dolls. Today I just bought Kaia, whose 7th birthday is Sunday, the pet bunny that belongs to her newest doll, Julie. This is Kaia's 4th American Girl Doll -- she has Kaya, Kit, Ruthie & now Julie. This probably means nothing to most of you, but it takes me back to my Cabbage Patch Kid days, in all their glory.

This summer when Mike, Kerri & the kids were visiting, Kerri & I made the trek to Mall of America (something I am generally loathe to do), so we could give Kaia a special trip to the American Girl Doll store. Her doll Kaya, who is an American Indian, was having some hair issues, and the store has a beauty shop (oh yes). So Kaya was attended to by a professional AGD hair stylist. She was changed into a spa robe, placed in a salon chair, and given the works. She got beautiful new braids AND got her ears pierced (Kaia had also just gotten her ears pierced).

And anyway, while we were there, I got to look around. Oh, how I longed to be a little girl again. I fell in love with all of those dolls! They're so interesting! My favorite -- and the one I really want for my birthday this year -- is Rebecca. She's a Russian-Jewish girl in 1914 in New York City, and I love her. I tried to persuade Kaia to get her next, but she opted instead for Julie, the little sixties flower child. Hippie. I'll have to start working on Audie, -- maybe she'll cave to the pathetic requests of her Aunt Mary.

As I write this post, my two sons are selecting, over and over again on On-Demand, the Lego Indiana Jones show, while playing with there Indiana Jones legos. Noah is home sick today with a fever, a bad cough, and "little drops of throw-up." And Luke, who's lazing around in his pajamas, just announced, "Ok, I give up. I need to go pee-pee." [Pause] Ok, now I gotta go wipe Luke's butt.

Mother Guilt

Mothers of young children are encouraged to volunteer in the classroom (be in the kindergarten or preschool one, in my case). I was a room mother for Noah's preschool class in Charlotte, and he seemed genuinely happy to see me when I appeared in his class. But at the same time, he seemed to prefer to hang out with me (yes, I am that cool), and nervously engaged in the activities of his classmates, and only when I prodded him. As an example of how our presence affected his behavior:

When he was 3, his teachers invited all of the kids' families to their holiday party. My parents and Uncle Mark came, too. First we all did some crafts together, then ate Christmas cookies -- you know, the usual preschool party stuff. And then the kids were going to do a little concert. The teachers gathered all of the toddlers at the front of the class for their performance. Noah quietly sat with his classmates, starring at us, but when the music started, he subtley turned around, bent down and stuck his little butt in the air. He stayed that way through the whole thing. All 12 of the other children, their smiling faces beaming proudly toward their parents and family, sang and made the requisite adorable arm motions, except our kid. He just bent over with his ass in the air. 12 happy, shining faces and one ass. As the other parents stared at each other, wondering whose kid's ass was ruining a perfectly good photo op, my beet-red face and giggling gave me away. In any event, I think (hope?), he wouldn't have done that if we hadn't been there, so I tried to limit my attendance at school so I didn't negatively affect his mojo.

But all of that is just an aside. The real story is that today, I didn't have any errands to run during the 1 hour and 15 minutes I have in between kid pick-ups, so I thought I'd hang out in Luke's class for a while to help out, watch him play, etc. We're trying to decide what kind of preschool we should put him in next year, so I wanted to observe him in action and see how he behaved in this setting. (His teachers swear to me that he is an angel in school, despite my frequent apologies for his stubbornness.) I had asked him a couple of months ago if I could come to school with him, and he firmly answered that I could not, because school was just for little kids, not mommies. Fine. But this time, I decided not to ask permission and just do it. After we got him situated (cup in the bucket, frog with his name on it in the basket, jacket in the locker, etc.), I was just standing there, asking him what he was going to do first -- art table, puzzles, etc. He looked at me in confusion and said, "Mom, why are you still here? You need to just leave."

I calmly told him I wanted to stay so I could play with him and help his teachers, and he said "No, just leave."

My first instinct of course was Ouch. But then I rethought that. From one perspective, it should actually be perceived as a good thing that my kid doesn't want me at school. It means he feels safe there, he feels a sense of personal identity -- that is his turf, and he's independent and self-possessed enough to function just fine without me. These are, in fact, all good things -- exactly the qualities I want to instill in my kids. And what's more, what the hell was I complaining about? Not getting to hang out with 15, 3 year-olds for an hour? Had I gone mad? I know that a good mom is supposed to be thrilled to volunteer in her kid's class, but I've never claimed to be a "good mom" (the best I am hoping for is just not to raise total assholes), and I've hardly been beating down the schools' doors to volunteer my time. And here my kid was kind enough to let me off the hook. I only get 3 hours a week to myself, damn it. So I headed down the street to the bakery, ordered a banana pecan scone and a coffee and read a book. Perfect morning. Thanks, Lukey.

(That being said, I came home and emailed Noah's teacher to ask when would be a good time for me to come there (in my very mature way, I'll just hang out with the kid who actually likes having me around). And, I recently appointed by the town school board to sit on its committee on Human Rights, so "check" on the to-do list item for community involvement and volunteerism. I'm so pathetically susceptible to guilt.)

The First Two

Inspired by Robertson, I chose as one of my New Year's resolutions to aim to read 25 books this year, and I figure I'll keep track of them here. (Since Brian shamed me into blogging more, I may as well take advantage of the medium.)

1. Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America, by Barbara Ehrenreich

This was my second attempt at this book -- I've been doing a lot of that lately, starting and stopping books. I just figure life is too short and there are too many good books out there to bother with ones that don't interest you. But I had heard too many wonderful things about this particular book, among which was that I could not consider myself a true bleeding-heart liberal and not read it. So I did, and I urge everyone else in the world to also. It's heartbreaking and eye-opening and infuriating, all at the same time.

The book chronicles the author's attempt to live on minimum wage, and she does so in three different parts of the country (the Keys, near her actual home, coastal Maine and the Twin Cities). She took abundantly reasonable steps to make the experiment as real as possible to mimic the experiences of your average blue-collar worker who would have to settle down and try to make a life for him or herself. But, unlike many such folks, she did not have a spouse or any children to support, and she was not burdened with any debt.

And (spoiler alert!, but only if you live in a hole), she couldn't do it. A single, middle-aged, healthy woman could not support herself, eat a semi-healthful diet, and live in anything other than squalor, on minimum wage. And the experiences she recounted of how she was treated in these minimum wage jobs was so depressing, causing many uncomfortable flashbacks of the summer my parents made me work at KMart. Nepotism got me that job (dad was the pharmacist) the summer in between my sophomore and junior years of college (my unpaid internships for the U.S. Congressman and the United Way weren't satisfactorily contributing to the bottom line). My "education," energy and work ethic -- relative to the middle-aged woman who had spent their lives on their feet at those cash registers -- shot me to Employee of the Month and Customer Service Desk Manager a mere two weeks into the job, and I will never forget the disgust and disdain flowing from my co-worker (she was not my supervisor, even though she had been there 12 years and I had been there two weeks), when I got to leave early one day because my new contacts were irritating my eyes. Because who the hell was I? Some college snot without a clue as to how privileged I was, evidenced by the ridiculous amount of time I spent bitching to my parents about that job.

So anyway, a quick must-read, frustrating in that you're left not knowing what you can do to solve a massive problem in our society. But at the very least, the tips we leave will be as large as we can afford, we'll do our best to show our respect, and our children will definitely be forced spend a few summers working shit jobs for no money.

2. Grace (Eventually), Thoughts on Faith, by Anne Lamott

This is the fourth book of hers that I've read, and she is by far one of my favorite writers. Reading most of her non-fiction (the books are largely reprints of columns and essays published previously -- she has written a lot for Salon), is a deeply personal endeavor. She talks motherhood, politics, family, friends, disease, and body image, all with a spiritual bent. Not necessarily a book for the atheists or cynics in the crowd, but definitely one for those of us who are overwhelmed sometimes by fear and self-doubt, and who need help to be reminded to just slow down and take a deep breath.

Not enough politcs lately

Now that we don't have Bush to bitch about, there hasn't been a lot of political rambling on the blogs lately. Allow me to correct that.

Sweetiecakes recently came upon this article published in New York magazine, "Saint Elizabeth and the Ego Monster." It's basically about what a douchebag John Edwards is/was, and how Elizabeth isn't all she's cracked up to be, either. It's long, but take the time to read it -- fascinating and entertainning article. I take it with a grain of salt, as there wasn't a lot of insight into how the author got his facts, but even if some of it is true, it paints a scary picture for me -- another example of how risky it is to trust in the honor and integrity of public figures (or anyone?).

The Tiger Woods thing was a big disappointment to me, too, because I am a walking cliche --a naive, rose-colored-glasses kind of gal who wants to believe in the inherent goodness of humanity. Is it so far-fetched that a person who has cameras in his face a lot, or is held up in the public eye to be awesome (whether as a politician, sports hero, movie star, etc.), can also be faithful to the woman he purports to love? That such a person can keep it in his pants when the woman he pledged his life to is pregnant with his child, or spending hours on end in a hospital having radiation treatments so she doesn't die? that such a person -- who lives with cameras in his face -- can recognize that if he can't keep it in his pants, someone will find out about it, and when they do, his betrayal and disrespect and selfishness will humiliate not only his wife, but their friends and family? and that his children will likely spend the better part of their lives, in one way or the other, coming to terms with the fact that their father in, in fact, a douchebag?

And so as not to put this all on men, why is it that there are so many women out there in the public eye who revel in their reputation as loving, compassionate, sensitive people (or simply awesome in their own right, whether as activists or super-gestators) who in reality treat those around them like shit (Mrs. Edwards, Mrs. Gosselin, etc.). How is it that we foster this culture of obsession that allows people to perceive themselves as better than the rest of us? Do we, as the viewing, listening public, have such a collective low self-esteem that we allow these people to behave this way? Where is our outrage? Where is our decency? Is there anyone out there asking these people, "Who the fuck do you think you are?" A President of the United States had an intern half his age blow him in the oval office, down the hall from his wife and daughter, then lie about it under oath, to the entire world, but we now still hold him up as one of the best presidents in recent history. And that wife, whom he betrayed and humiliated and lied to (repeatedly), in front of the entire world, in front of her own daughter, stayed with him, at least in part, allegedly, to bolster her own political ambitions. How is that a lying, adulterous, impeached leader can be a political asset? What the fuck is wrong with these people?

Holy crap. I had an acupuncture appointment this morning and it must have freed a lot of pent up energy. I need to go take a nap.

Shut up, Brian

Fine. I'll blog. Because frankly, I'm giving in to everyone lately.

Luke, in particular. He's missed two of the last three days of school because he didn't want to go and I didn't want to argue with him. I really won't argue with Luke about much of anything lately, and for this, I admit that I suck. And if I'm going to be completely honest, I would also have to admit the primary reason he did not want to go to school is because such an outing would interrupt his marathon viewing of Tom & Jerry Go To Mars. $4.75 at Target buys so much joy for that child. I'm not proud of this.

But while we're on the subject, I'll give you a little update on Luke that wasn't quite worthy of the Christmas letter. He won't drink a smoothie unless he gets to help make it. He won't bathe unless Mr. Bubble joins him in the tub. He generally won't eat dinner unless popcorn, cheese or crackers are served as a side dish, and even then, he'll only eat that side dish. Two nights ago his dinner consisted of 5 pieces of string cheese (but it was organic, so that's ok, right?). His favorite word is "butt." He adds to it any sentence to make that sentence funny. At Christmas at my parents' house, when he was DRUNK off of the m&ms that my mother was willingly doling out to him by the handful, he came into the living room to serenade everyone with Jingle Bells. It was a lovely rendition by a drunken 3 year-old, slurred speech and all. Then he announced he was going to single "the funny one." I figured we'd get the "batman smells" version, a perennial favorite. But instead, he sang the entire song, just as before, but at the end, he shouted "BUTT!" Then he lauged hysterically, grabbed another handful of m&ms and disappeared into the basement. He passed out about 45 minutes later.

Yesterday, I walked into the boys' room to hear Noah telling Luke that he didn't want Luke to put his penis in Noah's face. Why would Noah ever have to utter such a sentence? Because Luke's favorite thing to do these days is de-pants himself and dance around the house, demanding that everyone check out his butt (and more recently, his winkie). And speaking of Luke's penis, there's something wrong with it because when he pees, the stream is at a minimum of a 45-degree angle, even when he points it straight down. He's been known to piss in his own face. He goes through several pairs of underwear each day, that is, if he's even willing to put underwear on in the first place. He's a big fan of freeballing.

I think I need to make an appointment with my therapist.