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.

It's been a long time

For a full explanation of the events of the last several weeks, please visit my other blog.

But here's this little tidbit of hilarious kid-ness. Noah was talking to me the other day as we were in the car running errands about his life as a grown-up. Apparently, he's growing dissatisfied with the fact that mommy and daddy are the boss and that there are a host of things for him that have to wait "until he's a grown-up." So he told me that when he's a grown-up, he's going to buy his own house. "Good idea, bud."

Noah: "Yeah, and when I buy my house, there's a lot of stuff I'm going to have to buy for it. Because a house is what you keep your stuff in." [see prior post discussing Noah's curiously about why people live in houses]

Me: "Like what?" [a couple of minutes into this conversation, I whipped out some paper and starting taking notes]

Noah: "Well, I'm gonna need a TV for grownups, so I can watch cartoons. And I should probably get another TV for the downstairs, too, for kids."

Me: "Oh yeah, your house is going to have a downstairs?"

Noah: "Yeah, an upstairs and a downstairs like our house in Minneapolis, not like our house in Charlotte. and I'm going to need a couch to sit on. And a refrigerator. And my very own big-boy bed. And I'm going to need a bike so I can take a bikeride all by myself because I'll be a grown-up and I won't have to ask you first. And I'm going to need to get some cables for my TV so it works right. [silence. he's thinking.] WAIT! I don't need cables! I'll just get satellite."

Me: "Anything else?"

Noah: "I'm gonna make sure my house has a guestroom if someone is staying for 5 days. And an attic, to put my extra stuff in."

Me: [laughing.] "Sure, that's a good idea. What else do you need?"

Noah: "Well, I'm going to have to put a garden in my yard so that when I run out of food I can just get it from the garden and I don't have to run stupid errands."

Me: [laughing harder] "Well that makes sense. Where are you going to buy this house?"

Noah: "I'm going to buy it by you and dad and Lukey. Not on the wiggily part of the street, just on the straight part. [thinking] No, you know what? I think I should buy the house next to yours."

Awwwww.

What a great Saturday night!

As the parents in the crowd will understand, we are ecstatic to have finally found a good group of babysitters. We have two go-to girls (both upcoming sophomores, so they'll be around for a couple more years) right here in the neighborhood who are smart AND responsible. Do you know how nice it is to come home to find that your toddler's diaper is on the right way and that it's obviously been changed at some point during your time away? Or what a relief it is to find the playroom has been cleaned and not looking like a tornado tore through? Seemingly not a big deal, sure, but we had so many nightmares in Charlotte that this is quite a treat for us.

Ruby (the boys' favorite) came over Saturday night because Matt and I were headed to the Avett Brothers' concert. They played as the Minnesota Zoo as part of the Zoo's summer concert series. It was a venue for only about 1300 people, and we were frankly concerned about whether there would be anyone else there besides us! We had no idea whether there was a following here in the upper midwest for this little bluegrass-esque band from the south. But there was! It was sold out, and everyone who was there was completely enthuastic. It broke our hearts when it ended -- Matt and I had such a fantastic time. I knew that their music helped me get through the past year -- it connects me to my family, it uplifts me and inspires me, and just makes me happy -- but I didn't realize it had meant so much to Matt, too. I learned this when commenting that we should have brought a poster to hold up or something, to which Matt replied, "but how can you bring a poster big enough to write 'hey, we're from NC too, but we had to move under depressing circumstances and thanks for getting me through the past year '?" Good point.


They're coming back to this neck of the woods in October, when they're playing in Madison, WI. Madison is supposed to be awesome, so we think we're gonna save our pennies and plan to go, and even to bring the boys. Noah loves the band, too, and we'll just do whatever we can to get Luke to make it through. There were actually several kids at this past concert, and they were dancing and having a great time. So, we'll just try to make it happen (that is, unless Grammie and Grandpa want to make a fall visit which would include a little time away for mom & dad...).

We took a video of them doing one of our favorites, "Go To Sleep," but I couldn't get it to upload. So I'm just going to link to a couple of their videos on YouTube. The first one is one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard. I cry when I listen to it alot, and I cried when they sang it at the concert (the first song of the encore). The next one is actually two of their songs, but it's awesome.

Small miracles

Tonight, after some mild emotionally heartbreaking news (nothing truly noteworthy, I'm just very fragile these days), we opted for a treat and went to Chipotle. A wonderful, gloriously yummy $25 splurge (we opted for the guac tonight AND two sodas, instead of splitting one). I am crazy proud to announce that Noah ate almost an entire chicken taco (with just cheese, but still). This is huge for us, because it means we can partake in this tasty treat with a tad less parental guilt. Usually, we prioritized our own Chipotle cravings over the nutritional intake of our babies, allowing them to feast on tortilla chips and chocolate milk boxes (it's organic milk, okay?) as their entire dinner. But tonight, we made just a tad bit of progress. We're so proud.

A 5 year old's questions

Gus has gotten a little bigger since we first brought him home. About 20 pounds bigger. The vet predicts he'll be 80 pounds full grown. The breeder told us 50 pounds. Damn it.

Every kid needs a slip 'n' slide, right? Thank you Cauwels Family!

Noah has always been a curious kid, but he's becoming more and more intrigued by the world around him. A few days ago, he overheard Matt & I discussing the unfortunate news that our Charlotte house apparently had termites. This prompted question after question: what are termites? what do they look like? where do they live? why don't they live in Minnesota? if it gets warmer in Minnesota, will the termites come here, too? etc., etc.

Today, though, I was totally impressed with the kid's thought processes. We were in the car and he asked, "Mom, what part of my body controls what I do?" I did my best at simplifying the mechanisms of the neurotransmitters in the brain. He thought it was awesome. "So, my brain makes my arm move when I want it to move? And my brain tells by body when I'm hot or cold? That is SO cool!"

A few hours later, he says, "Mom, why do humans live in houses?" I had to think about that one for a second, because it takes time to formulate a response that I think a) he will actually understand; and b) will actually satisfy his curiosity. We discussed humanity's need for shelter, on the biological side of things, and our need for a place to put all of our stuff, on the logistical side. Apparently, the latter really clicked for him. "Yeah! Where would I put all of my toys if I didn't have a house?!?"

So, while my 5 year old is anxiously attempting to discover the ways of the world, my almost-3 year old is steadfastly refusing to use the potty, give up the pacifier, or -- most recently -- walk. And so Noah asked Matt last night at bedtime, "Dad, why do you and mom always do everything Lukey wants, but you always tell me 'no'?" Holy crap, we're really bad parents.