Holy Jeebus I’m tired. The Hatchling got up at 4:15 this morning and would not go back to bed. I’m beginning to question whether she’s actually my child. Except I know she really is, because a) stretchmarks, and b) she’s just waking up from a nearly 4 hour nap, in which I could not join because I had stupid adult crap to take care of while she refreshed herself. I hate adult crap.
In completely unrelated news, this is fucking awesome. (via eWAC)
Comments Off on Fatigue and Funny
Posted in Funny Stuff, random tidbits, trials and tribulations
When it comes to mothering, at least in this culture, there’s a lot of pressure to do it all. Be a combination of Martha Stewart, Marmee from Little Women, June Cleaver, and – oh yeah – make sure you’re still dynamic and sexually attractive. For god’s sake don’t lose your style!! Because, you know, we aren’t under enough stress as it is, juggling the kid(s) and the career(s) and the relationships and the housework and all. So when I see the term “yummy mummy” it tends to set my teeth on edge – I associate it with a very judgmental perspective on being a mama. But I have to say, Anna Johnson’s The Yummy Mummy Manifesto does a really nice job of reclaiming the term for what it really should be all about: loving yourself and finding a way to be a whole, passionate, vibrant personality, even while you’re caring for a small person who regularly coats you in their bodily fluids. Here’s a representative quote:
I will tell anyone in the first year of mothering to hang on to her pregnancy rights (the cravings, the emotions, the attitude, and, yes, even those ten pounds) and to fixate less on going back to what she was before. Once you’re a mother, it’s all about more. … It isn’t easy to be expansive in a culture that is constantly urging women to contract, shrink, and diet to the point of disappearance, but that is probably the greatest challenge of Yummy Motherhood: to feel delicious every step of the way. Proudly so. Pregnancy is the milestone we carry up front. This is the most glorious moment to be all of your many selves. Never will you occupy so many variations of one body in such a short space of time. And, hopefully, never will you feel so free, in high heels, in overalls, or in nothing at all.
Johnson’s free-ranging tome covers everything from pregnancy style (key message: embrace the flamboyant), to sex, to fighting fair, to throwing a yummy birthday party. It’s not a radical book – the underlying assumption is that the reader is a heterosexual woman who finds makeup and fashion at least a little bit fun – but Johnson has a fundamentally kind and caring approach. This is not a book that will harangue you into exercising and getting that baby weight off (thank god). This is a book that will encourage you to find a way to move your body with joy, and eat things you love, and wear clothes that are both comfortable and beautiful, and damn the torpedoes. There are lots of handy links to web resources for SAHMs and WAHMs (stay-at-home and work-away from-home moms), along with recipes, craft projects, and ideas on how to be more of an eco-mom. But I have to be honest – I think my favorite part of the book is the design. The pages are lushly illustrated, in rich colors with botanical motifs – the whole visual experience of the book exactly reflects the “yumminess” the author is promoting. Does The Yummy Mummy Manifesto offer any amazing new insights into modern motherhood? Nah. But it’s a loving reminder that life is more fun when you approach it with humor and zaniness and passion, and that – as Martha would say – is A Good Thing.
(Reviewed as part of the MotherTalk blog tour.)
Comments Off on Review: The Yummy Mummy Manifesto
Posted in reviews
Our grill was stolen. Mr. Squab noticed it when he came home today; I’d been outside in the afternoon but I have no idea if it was there then or not. It was a pretty sizeable grill, and quite heavy, so we’re guessing that whoever took it did it last night, with a friend to help and a getaway truck. This sucks for many reasons. One, no grill! And we like to use it a lot in the summer! Two, it was a surprise present from my sister and my stepdad, and I don’t know why but somehow it feels worse to have a gift stolen than something we’d bought ourselves. Three, it just feels so icky and invasive. With all the work we’ve been doing on the house, especially outside, I’d been feeling pretty good about where we live – we’ve been meeting a lot of our neighbors as we work on the front yard, and everyone has been so nice, and the house is looking good. Now it’s hard not to feel suspicious and like we live in the semi-ghetto again. Our back yard, where the grill was, isn’t fenced, but it is up on a hill a good 6 feet above the sidewalk, so to steal something out of our yard you really have to make an effort to leave the public space of the sidewalk and enter our private zone. We’ve been leaving some of Ellie’s toys out there, the occasional ladder or shovel – you know, stuff that you leave outside sometimes. Only now I guess we can’t. Which sucks. On the plus side, I guess this makes it easier to figure out what to get Mr. Squab for Father’s Day. On the minus side, when we get a replacement we’ll have to figure out some way of chaining it to the house. Stupid theft.
Comments Off on Gross.
Posted in trials and tribulations
It was a good Memorial Day weekend in Squab country. Mr. Squab came home early on Friday, we had a cookout Saturday night, vegetated on Sunday, and had a picnic on Monday, at our favorite park. Good times. I think we’d all be better off if 3.5 day weekends were standard, don’t you?
Meanwhile, I started this week with a vengeance by having a job interview (!). Nothing too freaky – it’s not like I’m looking to go back to full time work or anything, particularly since we hope to have a new little one on the way soon. But I need to get back into teaching, if for no other reason than to prevent massive gaps on my CV. And also I really enjoy it. So I’ve been looking for some adjunct spots, something I can do while being a SAHM. Handily, my BFF is the registrar at a local music college, and so she let me know they were looking for some people for the fall. I aced the phone interview, and so today I did the in-person one. 15 minutes of teaching demo followed by a round of pretty boilerplate interview questions. I think I did pretty well – toward the end of the interview I actually got an “amen, sister” from the chair of the hiring committee – so it was rewarding to know I’ve still got my interviewing chops. But I’ll tell you what: prepping for job-related stuff WITH a two year old is a whole different ball of wax than prepping without one. I was up late last night getting materials together and then shaving my much neglected legs (hello, razor burn!) The interview was at 10 this morning, and since the Hatchling slept until 8:30 (I know, this is not something to complain about), we had to hustle it up to get out of the house on time. Thank god for lovely friend J, who was there to watch the Hatchling while I was gone, and to zip my damn dress up the rest of the way (impossible to reach with my stumpy arms) and to loan me a deck of cards – critical for my teaching demo – since I’d left the house without mine. Of course.
I’m actually feeling pretty zen about the whole thing. It’s a part time position (at least for now), which is a little more low key, and since we don’t need for me to have it – though, don’t get me wrong, the extra $$ would be nice – I feel like I’ll be ok whether or not they have a spot for me. I guess that’s a good place to be, mentally. Right? Or am I losing my edge? Anyway, I’ll keep you posted on the outcome.
Here’s a clip of the Hatchling and her cousin doing a little happy spring dance at the park on Memorial Day. The Hatchling’s 5:00 shadow is actually a light crust of Oreo cookies. Because that’s how we roll, baby.
Happy Oreo Dance on Vimeo.
Did you grow up on the Winnie-the-Pooh books by A. A. Milne? (Note: I said “books” not “movies” and “by A. A. Milne,” not “by Disney.”) If you didn’t, I’m not really sure what to say to you except GO READ THEM NOW. If you did, then you’ll perhaps remember “Cottleston Pie,” one of Pooh’s many zen-koan-like rhymes.
Cottleston Cottleston Cottleston Pie,
A fly can’t bird, but a bird can fly.
Ask me a riddle and I reply
Cottleston Cottleston Cottleston Pie.Cottleston Cottleston Cottleston Pie,
Why does a chicken? I don’t know why.
Ask me a riddle and I reply
Cottleston Cottleston Cottleston Pie.Cottleston Cottleston Cottleston Pie,
A fish can’t whistle and neither can I.
Ask me a riddle and I reply
Cottleston Cottleston Cottleston Pie.
Anyhoo, I was having some friends over for brunch the other day, and looking for something to make, and I came across this recipe for Cottleston Pie in my vintage 1969 Pooh cookbook. So I made it, and boy was it scrumptious. Perhaps you would like to make it, too.
Cottleston Pie
adapted from The Pooh Cookbook
1 nine-inch pie shell baked until firm but not brown
3/4 c. diced, cooked, ham
1/4 c. chopped green onion or chives
3 eggs
2 c. whipping cream*
1/4 tsp. salt
grind pepper
1 1/2 Tblsp butter, cut into tiny dots
1/2 c. grated cheese
Preheat oven to 375. Distribute the ham on the bottom of the baked pie shell. Beat the egg, cream, and seasonings until thoroughly mixed. Stir in green onion and pour mixture on top of ham. Scatter the butter dots and cheese on top. Bake for 30 minutes or until pie has puffed up and browned. Serve piping hot.
*You could, of course, use half-and-half or whole milk instead of cream … but you have to ask yourself, is that really what Pooh would want?
This evening I had dinner with The Caffeinated Priest (a.k.a. Sarah), who is – literally – my oldest friend. By which I don’t mean that she herself is old (god forbid), but rather that we’ve known each other since we were in utero, which is about as early as you can get. We were born a mere two months apart, and she was my very bestest friend for the first decade of my life. We lived on opposite sides of town and went to different schools, but hardly a week went by that one of us wasn’t spending the weekend at the other’s house. For me, Sarah’s house was a wonderful oasis of sibling-free existence, where life was more exotic (shopping at health food stores! making our own yogurt! eating out at restaurants! OMG!) and we could spend hours playing make believe in the huge backyard or the upstairs attic suite. I remember choreographing dance routines to John Lennon songs, or watching as Sarah’s mom put on makeup before going out for the night. Sarah’s house had crazy modern art on the walls and she slept in a canopy bed – soooo glamorous. Sarah’s father worked for the Public TV station in Athens, and one year we got to ride the trolley from Mr. Roger’s neighborhood in the huge 4th of July parade in Atlanta. Sarah had that effortless self-confidence that some only children have, and I was happy to follow her lead in our many adventures. She was cooler than I was, and I knew it. When my Dad finished his PhD program and got a job in Minnesota, Sarah’s house was the last place we stopped by on our way out of town. We hugged and cried and she gave me a UGA t-shirt that I wore for nearly ten years, until it finally disintegrated in the wash. We kept in touch regularly for a few years after I’d moved. She called me when her parents split up; I called her a few years later when mine did. We kept track of each other sporadically through high school, and I saw her randomly on a summer trip with my parents during college, but we’d mostly lost touch my the time I graduated. Occasionally – and this might sound a little weird – I’d have dreams about her and her family, and I’d wake up and wonder what she was doing. I tried googling her a few times, but never came up with anything. Then, earlier this year, I got an email from her. Seems she’d been doing the same thing, and found my blog and my Flickr site and there it was – we were back in touch again. It’s probably my favorite thing about the internets, how I’ve made new friends and gotten back in touch with old ones, but this was something extra special. Sarah was at a conference in Minneapolis this week, so we arranged to get together for dinner. You can never be completely sure how it will be with someone you haven’t seen in nearly twenty years (and haven’t really seen in over twenty-five years) but something told me that we’d be ok, and lord! Were we ever! I’m sure Mr. Squab felt a little out of it with all the reminiscing, but I think Sarah and I could have kept talking into sometime next week without much of a pause. So much to catch up on! So many people to ask about! What was nicest of all, though, was to confirm that this person who was so incredibly important to my childhood is still someone that I really like, that I feel comfortable around and would choose to hang out with. We’re surely different people than we were as ten-year-olds, but we’ve both become pretty damn cool women, and I feel lucky to know my oldest friend once again. (And sorry mom, we forgot to take a picture!)
Comments Off on Old Friends
Posted in la famiglia, random tidbits
This week, I am hosting: a playdate Monday morning, a brunch Tuesday morning, another playdate Wednesday morning, dinner with my oldest friend Wednesday evening, and a cookout at some point over the weekend. This is in addition to our regular ECFE class on Thursday morning, various errand running, and probably several impromptu trips to the park. Call me Butterfly. Social Butterfly.
In other news, in case you were wondering, periods SUCK. Thanks to the wondrousness of my IUD, I basically haven’t had one since before the Hatchling was born. Which was, how do I put this, TOTALLY FUCKING GREAT. But now the IUD is gone, and I’m on the rag, and christ I forgot how much of a pain in cooter it is. I’m not one of those three-day no-cramps blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of gals. More like seven days, massive cramps, emergency run to Walgreens for feminine products,* cursing my reproductive system raving bitch. So it’s fun for the whole family! I hope to hell it doesn’t take as long to get knocked up this time as it did last time, because I am OVER the menstruation.
Ehm … Happy Monday?
*Or, as Mr. Squab fondly refers to them, “your lady blood sponges.” Sorry, did I just overshare?
Comments Off on Whoa. Interacting.
Posted in random tidbits, updates
1. (potential TMI warning) The IUD has been removed. Let the fertility rites commence. Operation Hatchling Siblification has been initiated.
2. Against the advice of people who probably know better, I cut my hair. SHORT. I figured two straight months of viscerally hating my hair every damn day was enough. It is gloriously carefree.
3. After 5+ years as a happy iPod owner, I *just* figured out that there is a sleep function on the damn thing. How did I not know this before?
4. Soy chai lattes are good.
That is all. You may now resume your normal weekend activities.
Comments Off on A series of brief, possibly trivial, announcements
Posted in random tidbits
What you should read/watch since I’m not writing:
Things Younger Than John McCain. You’ll be surprised.
This fascinating NPR story on different ways of dealing with transgender kids. Also look at the Q&A with two of the psychologists mentioned. I find the traditional approach (trying to make kids more ‘comfortable’ in their current gender by forbidding them to express other behaviors) kind of appalling, frankly – both politically and psychologically. I hope the trend moves in a more accepting direction.
The Test for Husbands and Wives is both hilarious and depressing. I have to say, Mr. Squab would score MUCH higher on this than I would. Which is, I guess, a sign of progress?
I love Ricky Gervais, Gordon Ramsay, and juvenile humor, so this is pretty much the perfect clip:
Happy Thursday!
The problem with leaving the Pledge out on the kitchen countertop is that you’re liable to mistake it for the Pam and spray it all over the inside of the bowl in which you’re about to place your bread dough to rise. Only the lemony scent saved you from a waxy, possibly toxic loaf of bread. TIDY UP.
Comments Off on Memo to Myself for Future Reference
Posted in random tidbits
