Friday, June 27, 2008

Can I Get an Amen?

Today, I was browsing through the rental listings for Craigslist, when I happened across this headline:

$3000 / 3br - Rental listings over $2000 on Craigslist (Pipe Dream USA)

Well, I had to click on it. Wouldn't you? And here is the ad (I am quoting the entire thing because it is just too beautiful):

Would all the people trying to rent houses that they can not afford the mortgages on, please REALIZE that this is a free listing service. We, the readers of craigslist.org, hereby say to you, we can't afford your inflated house either!

Give it up. Walk away. You're underwater and noONE wants to rent your 'fabulous' house for more than 25% of their earnings. You really want to rent your property? Try setting a realistic rental price that someone making an average income in LA can keep up with (48K in 2005). Otherwise, list it somewhere else.

Thanks.

And to you, Anonymous Craigslist poster, sir or ma'am, I say preach on! I think I love you. You win Cranky Crackpot of the Week, and a year's supply of toilet paper!

Thursday, June 26, 2008

TV Has Sunk to a New Low

"Baby Borrowers" message to teens: Don't get pregnant

NBC and The National Campaign to Prevent Teen and Unplanned Pregnancy are educating teens about unplanned pregnancy while enchanting them with "The Baby Borrowers," the network's upcoming new reality show featuring five 18-to-20-year-old couples tasked with taking care of tots, toddlers, tweens, teens and elderly folks on camera.
Are you kidding me? What parent in their right mind would hand their children, especially very young children under 3, over to a complete stranger for three days?

After NBC announced it was producing an American version of "The Baby Borrowers," Natural Child Project director Jan Hunt posted an open letter on the organization's site, lashing out against the network "for the present and future emotional health of the babies and young children whose lives will be so strongly affected."

"Sudden removal from their parents and placement with strangers for long periods of time is from a baby's point of view no different than a kidnapping," wrote Hunt. "It has been well-established that babies who suddenly lose their primary caregiver can quickly go into mourning and emotional depression."
When my dad died unexpectedly almost 5 years ago, Viva was only eight months old. I was her primary caregiver, although we did have a babysitter coming in a couple of days a week to watch her for a few hours at a time (for situations like when it took me over three hours to vote in the presidential election). It was December. My dad's funeral was taking place in Boston, more than 2,600 miles away. There was a nationwide flu epidemic and while we did have warm clothes for Viva, having a baby prepared for winter in Los Angeles is a very different proposition from having a baby prepared for winter in Boston. My husband had just started a new job the previous week; fortunately they were sympathetic and gave him a couple of days off. I had to make a decision quickly, and I decided to leave the baby at home with her Daddy. I left on a Saturday night on a red-eye flight, caught up with family Sunday, went to the funeral Monday, and flew back Tuesday morning.

It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. Walking out the door with my suitcase, knowing she couldn't understand that I wouldn't be back in ten minutes, was awful. At that point in Viva's life, we had never been separated for more than two or three hours. I cried most of the way to the airport. When I spoke to Sweet Dub over the next three days, he said she was pretty much inconsolable at night and although he could play with her during the day, he could tell she was looking for me. She would occasionally just rest her head on his shoulder, looking completely dspressed and heartbroken. When I returned on Tuesday, she was sitting in the babysitter's lap on the couch. When she caught sight of me, her face lit up, and then she burst into tears. She cried for a long time. It was utterly horrible.

Now, I know my experience is just anecdotal, but it reinforces all the reading I have since done on early childhood development. Viva seems to be pretty well-adjusted and attached to me to a fairly normal degree (whatever that is), but I wonder sometimes if this impacted her more than I know. When she was a toddler -- not that long in her lifetime from when we were first separated -- she wouldn't leave my side when we went to the playground. I would try to show her how to play with other kids, offer them sand toys, the usual, and she would have none of it. She only wanted to play with me. I was amazed to see children younger than she was who would just crawl or toddle away from their parents, completely confident and independent. Admittedly, this clinginess may just have been part of Viva's temperament. Or it may have been rooted in that separation. It's hard to know.

When I left Viva for three days, I left her in the loving care of her dad, with her loving grandparents right down the hall, and her loving babysitter for one of the days I was gone. I did not leave her with a complete stranger. It was nonetheless clearly traumatic for her. (It certainly was traumatic for me. And knowing what I know now, I am inclined to think that if I had it to do over again, I would take her with me.) This new show, based on a British show of the same name, seems cruel to me. What do you think?

P.S. Here are statements from two groups concerned with child welfare, Natural Child Project and Zero to Three. Both condemn the show, with good reason. Read if you want more info.

P.P.S. I'll have a new post up at Belly Overwhelmed later today if you are inclined to read it. No pressure!

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Color Confusion

Hold on to your hats:

In South Africa, Chinese is the New Black

A high court in South Africa ruled on Wednesday that Chinese-South Africans will be reclassified as “black,” a term that includes black Africans, Indians and others who were subject to discrimination under apartheid. As a result of this ruling, ethnically Chinese citizens will be able to benefit from government affirmative action policies aimed at undoing the effects of apartheid.

You know, I've said it before and I'll say it again: race is just a social construct. As a woman of color, I embrace my new "black" brethren (and sistren, O yes). If anything, this ruling just underscores the inherent ridiculousness of the whole apartheid system and makes the whole concept look even more ass-backwards, if that were possible.

(Is it possible I haven't posted in ten days? Insanely busy with a 500-person event last week at work, just trying to get caught up. My apologies!)

Monday, June 09, 2008

Dreaming my Dreams

I had the weirdest dream last night/this morning. I was watching an old movie from the '70s, and the plot seemed to involve a group of about ten young men who were very tan in that weird kind of orangey Technicolor way of the 70s, and they were all running around naked through the streets of the San Fernando Valley. They were all high, so they were just laughing and goofing around and running from this barrage of police cars that were trying to cut them off. As they were running they were cupping their hands over their naughty bits, but sometimes they would have to jump, say, across a ditch or something, and there would be this whole nads-swinging-in-the-air thing going on. At one point one of them turned to another and said, "This is the best Googlewatch ever!" Which even in my dream I thought was kind of incongruous. I mean, Google? In the 70s? And in my dream I got distracted from the movie and started to deconstruct the word "Google," making the connection between "go ogle" and "watch." But then I was drawn back to the movie because one of the young men had fallen and was lying down and there was a close-up of him and I said, "Oh my God, is that a young Ted Danson?" and it was.

The end.

Tuesday, June 03, 2008

The Results are In!

But you're gonna have to read them over at Belly Overwhelmed. (Aw, come on, it's just one click away!)

Friday, May 30, 2008

Education Deprivation

A new report from the United Way of Greater Los Angeles finds that too often when we talk about education reform, we focus on early education (the primary years) and high school (preparing kids for college), while ignoring the middle school years, which are critical. Kids who struggle in middle school tend to drop out once they hit high school, or even before. Statistically, these kids are more likely to continue struggling throughout their lives, since without an education they are much less likely to make a living wage. Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger* is proposing to cut LAUSD funding by $350 million, due to the state budget deficit. Talk about kicking you when you’re down. Check out these statistics:

100% of L.A. County middle schools spend less on each student than the national average.

At least 20% of teachers in L.A. County middle schools lack full teaching credentials.

Half of middle schools in L.A. County meet the state’s definition of an overcrowded school, and within the LAUSD this proportion jumps to 75%.

70% of schools that serve high levels of low-income students are categorized as Program Improvement schools – meaning they have not improved their academic outcomes for two years in a row. Half of these have seen no improvement for 4 or 5 consecutive years.
If you feel up to it, the Summary Report and the Full Report are available for free download at United Way Los Angeles.


* By the way, the Schwarzenegger household will be unaffected by the budget cuts. I hear that his children attend a private school that charges over $25,000 a year in tuition.

Fashion Crisis

Oh Lord. I have to go to a cocktail event tomorrow night and I don't know what I'm going to wear. I have two maternity dresses but they are very much more business-y than dressy. Since I left this until the last minute, I can't order anything online and I fear I'm going to end up spending an outrageous amount of money for something I'll wear only a couple of times. Crap.

I really dislike myself sometimes.

Updated to add: Okay, so I ended up looking pulled together, if not glam. I bought this quite non-dressy dress at GapMaternity:



And I spruced it up with a pretty sheer apple green wrap, some dangly multi-colored chandelier earrings, a couple of green and gold bangles, and these A. Marinelli peep-toe pumps:



I also wore my hair down and finger-curled little ringlets into it. Since I didn't take a picture, you're going to have to take my word for it, but I think I cleaned up pretty good.

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

What the...?

So for those who have been following along at home, you know that the Blah Blahs have been trying to find a larger place to live. We don't have to vacate our current digs at any particular date, but we do need more space for when Fetal Blah arrives in late October, with all the attendant baby gizmos and gear. We'd like to move this summer at the latest so I don't have to deal with packing and settling in while being gargantuan.

A couple of nights ago, we went to check out a place that was nice but too pricey for what it was and where it was. I have also been having an ongoing email conversation with someone who listed a house for rent, then when contacted told me the house wasn't ready to show*. We exchanged emails for a week or so, and then she asked me to give her a couple more weeks to get repairs made. I contacted her today to ask if the house was ready, and this is the response I got:

"At this point we have two very interested couples. Thanks, [insert name here]"

What the hell? Clearly this was not meant to be, but I'm discouraged and (I'll admit) a little ticked off.

As my friend Sploo would say, "That is some foolywang**."

So I'm a little bummed out on the house front, which means that this weekend will no doubt turn into an episode of The Blah Blahs Mix It Up, also known as To Make Themselves Feel Better, The Blah Blahs Redecorate. Tune in, while we:

  • debate the merits of blank, pretty sunshine-yellow walls vs. actually hanging artwork in the living/dining area, the walls of which consist of some impossible, impassable substance which you can hammer into forever and still not get the smallest hole to stick a nail or picture hanger;
  • dig up the flower bed and relocate the lantana;
  • find some pavers and put them in the flower bed, which is located very inconveniently in a strip running right through the middle of the patio (aesthetically pleasing, but when you have kids running through it, not so much);
  • gripe about the housing market;
  • buy new bedding for the master bedroom because it is no longer sexy in there;
  • lie around on the couch exhausted from our labors;
  • lie around on the couch having not done any of the above;
  • instead of doing any of the above, make movies in the backyard, with Viva as the star;
  • instead of doing any of the above, create an art project with Viva;
  • watch the NBA playoffs, which will apparently Never END (no, seriously - whose idea was it to stretch the playoff semifinals to "best of seven" instead of "best of five"? Because I like basketball, but I'm done already, and we haven't even gotten through the Eastern and Western Conference finals. Can't we just fast-forward?);
  • debate going to the beach/the in-laws' (on either side)/another kid's birthday party/on vacation;
  • create a simple yet stylish filing solution for the gobs of paper threatening to swallow our house;
  • rag on each other for our choices of baby names;
  • create a dazzling sculptural masterpiece out of all the shoes Viva has outgrown in the past couple of weeks.
Stay tuned for the soundtrack! Coming soon!

* Which should have raised a red flag anyway, since why list the house if it's not ready to show?

** Foolywang is my new favorite word. I am adding it to my list of potential baby names.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Spleen, Venting Of

This morning, while I was waiting An Eternity for Viva to get out of the bathroom, I turned on the TV to find a decent kids’ show that I had recorded (for some reason, at the time when I am usually in the shower and Viva is eating breakfast, there is a dearth of shows which catch her interest or are age-appropriate – she is in this weird netherworld where the preschool shows are too babyish, but the shows she would love to make me let her watch are too old for her. I end up taping a conglomeration of shows at various times when we are not home so I have something to keep her from standing outside the shower and screaming the same made-up song at me thirty times in a row). At this time of day, Good Morning America was on, and George Stephanopoulos was pontificating about the West Virginia primary.

Ordinarily I have no issue with George Stephanopoulos – I mean, he is so cute, you could just put him in your pocket and button it up if you didn’t want to listen to him. But GMA host Robin Roberts asked him what stood out in this primary and he responded, “Race has played more of a factor in West Virginia than in any other contest we’ve seen so far.”

He then cited the following numbers from an exit poll of “white voters” in the West VA primary:

2 out of 10 said race was a factor in how they voted
8 out of 10 voted for Hillary Clinton
3 out of 10 would support Obama vs. McCain
“This shows a real problem for Barack Obama,” he said.

“This shows a real problem for AMERICA!” I shouted at the television. Prejudice is alive and well, and we can point it out, but let’s not address it head-on – why no, let’s just keep it moving. “God, I can’t stand it,” I said, and added some choice words.

Of course, that made Viva come out of the bathroom. If Mama asks you to wrap it up and eat your breakfast, no. But if you hear Mama swearing under her breath, by all means, come on out!

P.S. New post up at Belly Overwhelmed. I'm not making any promises that it's better than this one.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Off the Deep End

I am having trouble accessing Blogger today (including comments), so I am moblogging.  Also, my apologies to Liz over at Los Angelista -- I have tried responding to your comment a couple of times, but no go! I'll try again tomorrow...

Nearly 60 percent of black children can't swim

New study underlies efforts to prevent drowning, boost sports participation

 

A recent survey by USA Swimming found that 58% of African-American children can't swim, and that Black children drown at a rate almost three times the overall rate.

 

Now, I can swim, but I don't like to. I almost drowned in a YMCA swimming pool when I was four during "free swim" time at summer camp, and ever since then, I hate being in water over my head. Sweet Dub swims like he was born to it, and knowing of my fear of the water, he was determined to teach Viva how to swim (and how to LOVE to swim) from a very young age. 

 

At the outset, Viva was fearless. She would launch off the side of the pool and plunge right in, paddling around even when her teeth were chattering. She just didn't want to get out. And then, a couple of years ago, she started "learning" how to swim at day camp. And all of a sudden, she was not so fearless. Sweet Dub was furious. We don't know what exactly happened, but suddenly she did seem to be a bit dubious about the water. "They put the FEAR in her!" he howled angrily.

 

Not long after that, we moved from the apartment building where we had a pool at our disposal whenever we wanted it, and to a house where there is a yard, but no pool aside from the kiddie pool we throw out there and fill with the hose.

 

I recently took Viva over to a friend's for a playdate. They live in a luxury apartment building, and they have a pool. I watched Viva and her friend swimming around, and I realized her friend is hugely confident in the water – she is not quite five, yet swims quite ably from the shallow to the deep end and back. Viva, on the other hand, is constantly getting water up her nose, swallowing water, and refusing to get her face wet.

 

Now: last year, when we went to Hawaii, we bought Viva a lifejacket. This is because we knew we would be swimming in the open ocean, with a strong undertow. Viva now insists on wearing this lifejacket every time she swims, whether in a pool or the open water. It is a security blanket. I hate it, although I haven't commented on it much beyond, "Are you sure you want to take it? You're such a good swimmer I don't think you need it." Viva always assures me that she does in fact need it.

 

An added wrinkle: the African-American hair. Viva has lots and lots of hair. It is naturally kinky and naturally very dry. The chlorine really does a job on her hair and makes it even more fragile. It makes it harder to comb through and more subject to breakage. I do not need an extra struggle over her hair (yet another reason for her to hate swimming). This year, I would love to get her into a good swimming program, but I'm considering getting her hair braided to protect it. 

 

Sweet Dub looks concerned. "Are you sure you really want to do that?" he says. "They just braid their hair so tight. I know I've seen little girls come back from having their hair done and their face looks like this–" and he stretches his face back with his hands in that universal symbol for "bad facelift."  "And then we'll have to listen to her whining about how her head hurts."

 

Oh my God. Do you see?

 

I am trying to make sure my child will not drown, and if getting her hair braided tight* is the price we must pay, then so be it.

 

* Although I am not down with the dreaded traction alopecia.  I don't want my baby to end up bald.

 



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Wednesday, May 07, 2008

Her Little World

This morning, in the car.

Mama Blah [catching sight of the gas station marquee on the way past]: $3.95 for gas! Whoo!

Viva: Mom, I think you'd like to live in my world.

MB: Baby, I already do live in your world.

V [exasperated]: No, in my little world.

MB [catching on]: Why do you think I would like to live in your little world, sweetie?

V: Because in my little world, gas costs only a penny!

MB: WOW! I love your little world!

V: I know! And everything else is free!

MB: Your little world rocks!

V [giggling in the cutest little girl way]: I know!

MB: What else goes on in your little world?

V: Nobody has to go to work or go to school and you can just go the beach all day like in HaWAH-yee!

MB: Book me a ticket, baby. I am so there.


P.S. New posts up at Belly Overwhelmed. Yeah, cross-posting there. Don't know why I'm so scattered these days. Just go with it.

Monday, May 05, 2008

The Low Road

Something happened recently that made me very uncomfortable. Not only am I uncomfortable with what happened, but I am unhappy with my reaction to it. What do you do when you are directly confronted by racism? Do you react differently when it is not directed at you?

Let me lay it out for you. The company I work for recently held an all-day, all-staff workshop. These days we talk a lot about cultural competency, and one of the themes of the day was cultural community – which communities do you belong to, which labels do you give yourself, what assumptions do you make about other folks based on what they look like? The company I work for seems to attract a very diverse group, and we work all over the city at different sites. For the latter reason, it is very easy to be seated at one of these workshops with someone you have never seen before.

It was an interesting day, with some unexpected twists. And I’m glad that the “powers that be” didn’t shy away from having us talk about this stuff. Is it such a bad thing to have a conversation about race (as Barack Obama encourages us to do)?

During the day, we had the chance to break out briefly into one-on-one duos, wherein each participant had to answer a race/culture-related question. During one of these time-limited exchanges, I was seated with an African-American woman. The issue we were told to pose to each other was, “Describe a situation in which you have made an assumption about someone based on the community they come from.” This woman was pretty rigid in her body language and did not turn toward me when I sat down. Who knows what was going on with her, but my first impression was that she was not open to this whole concept.

When I posed the question to her, she told me a story about how she was crossing the street, in the crosswalk near work, and she had the right of way. A car turned right into the crosswalk and barely avoided hitting her. The driver, an Asian man, then threw his hands up in the air at her, in the universal signal for “what the hell are you doing?,” which is rather bizarre considering she was in the right, but certainly I’ve seen people do similar, non-sense-making, rude things while driving. She then responded with a very racist remark which I will not repeat here but which had to do with his eyes.

I couldn’t believe it. “Wh-well, wha—what did he SAY?” I stammered, completely aghast, and at the same time, completely and absolutely positive that I couldn’t call her on it.

“He didn’t say anything. What could he say? He almost hit me!” she said, and then, “He probably didn’t understand what I said anyway. He probably didn’t speak English.”

So there we were, at a table of 12 people, in a room full of 300-some people, each doing their own thing, sharing their own experiences, and I realized that (a) she was certainly not going to accept any criticism from me, since I appear white, (b) she may not even classify what she said as racist, and (c) that no one else had heard what she said.

“And how do you feel about how you handled it?” I said, since I couldn’t think of anything else to say except, “Wow, that was really incredibly racist!” and I knew that wouldn’t fly.

Ladies and Gentlemen: she shrugged. And then the moderator had us all get up and move to the next person, and the next question, and the overall feeling of “Kumbaya” in the room kept going, even if soured for me.

I’m wondering if anyone else in the room experienced this.

And I’m wondering what else I could have said, in retrospect, aside from “My best friend is Asian and my brother-in-law is Asian and my nephews are half-Asian, you racist ass!”

How do you respond to comments like this, particularly in the work environment when you’re trying to maintain professionalism?

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Make a Statement

Today is Denim Day. You may be already wearing jeans today without realizing that you are making a statement about the myths surrounding sexual assault. Denim Day was launched in response to a 1998 Italian Supreme Court decision in which a rape conviction was overturned because the victim was wearing tight jeans. The “reasoning” behind the decision was that there was no way the perpetrator could have gotten the victim’s jeans off without assistance from her, and that this was thus a consensual act. Oh, of course! Now I get it.

In response, female members of the Italian Parliament protested by wearing jeans on the steps of the Italian Supreme Court. Thus was Denim Day born.

Since our office is not casual except on Fridays, wearing jeans would generally be frowned upon on a Wednesday. But today, thank God it’s not, because I seriously have very few clothes that fit due to my expanding waistline. I have three pairs of maternity pants that need to be returned to various places because they are too big. “But won’t you grow into them?” you say. No, my friends, I won’t. I am really disturbed by the fact that vanity sizing even extends to maternity wear.

Today, I am wearing a pair of cropped, slightly big on me maternity jeans with a coral top, seersucker jacket, and sandals. When I left the house this morning, I was feeling pretty put together. I was pleased to realize I could get through another week looking halfway decent with the clothes I have on hand. And then, when I got to work, I dropped something under my desk, and squooshing over to get it, I saw I still have a Little Mermaid* (temporary) tattoo on my ankle. It’s bright red.

Oops. I have a meeting with our President and CEO today. Hopefully she won’t be checking out my legs.

* By the by, a new Little Mermaid movie, The Little Mermaid: Ariel’s Beginning, is coming out on DVD in August. If you’re into that kind of thing.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

THE + IRS = THEIRS

I'm thinking I might just label all posts from my formerly super secret pregnancy blog as "Belly Overwhelmed" and transfer them here. Because I don't have anything to do except obsess over crap like this.

It keeps my mind off of the terrible tragic consequences of Tax Day yesterday. Our accountant left us hanging until the last minute and then told us we owed money. Not a small amount. A major, "could be a down payment on two new cars" amount. Rat bastard! Have I mentioned that we're having a baby and would like to buy a house?

I'm proud to pay taxes in the United States; the only thing is, I could be just as proud for half the money. ~Arthur Godfrey

At least we had the money*, although I would have preferred to spend it on something else.

* We are generally pretty good savers. This is made easier by the fact that Sweet Dub makes considerably more money than I do, what with him being in the Entertainment Business and me being all about the Non-Profit Arena.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Food, Glorious Food

Lately I've been bringing yogurt to work with me in the morning. I sprinkle some granola over it and it is quite delicious. Today, when I tasted my yogurt, it tasted a bit too tangy. I believe it has gone bad. This pisses me off to an irrational degree. I have eaten two granola bars and I am still hungry. It is not even 11:00 AM.

In more happy news, over the weekend when I bought beer at the supermarket, the cashier carded me. She took a long look at my license. "Is that -- '68?" she said. "Wow, well you don't look your age at all." I guess I am remarkably well-preserved. If I could have tipped her, I would.

P.S. The beer was not for me. Although I do sometimes use it in cooking.

P.P.S. I just got an email notice inviting me to join co-workers for cake for someone's birthday at 11:30! I am pretty sure Fetal Blah likes cake. Sweet!

Monday, April 14, 2008

True Story

I have been given the thankless task of compiling a report on an outside program model which my organization is supposed to be implementing. No one can seem to tell me exactly how many departments in the organization are using said model, how long they’ve been using it, or how many clients have been served therefrom.* In exasperation, I contact one of our finance people, A., to find out which departments have been billing against it. And here we go.

Email from A: “It seems to me you should contact accounts payable person, B. If you don’t get the answers you need, come back to me.”

I dutifully email B. I then am cc’d on an email from B. to Finance Person C., the sum total of which is a forward of my email with the addendum: “please advise.”

I then receive an email from C., which says, “A. should be able to help you with this.”

I email back, “A. is the one who told me to contact B,” cc’ing all three.

I then receive an email from A. saying, “I’ll look into it.”

Holy mother of God. This exchange took half a day. It is like I have been sucked into some bizarre circle of hell from which I shall never be free.

Quite honestly, I really think there is nothing for it right now but to eat some ice cream to calm my ravaged nerves.

* Made it up. Seems to me that if you can say, “herewith,” you should also be able to say, “therefrom.”

Friday, April 11, 2008

I Hope You’re Sitting Down

Today I am exactly four months away from my 40th birthday.

Forty years old, Jesus. Some people I know have thrown big parties when they have a milestone birthday. Other people do things like train for a marathon or plan the trip of a lifetime to celebrate. As for me, I wasn’t planning much of anything. I thought we might throw a party, preferably at our new house if we had moved by then. I’d probably drink champagne and enjoy some tasty little nibbles, surrounded by loved ones.

That may still happen. But it appears that I will also be doing something completely unexpected at my 40th birthday: waddling around and watching my feet swell up.

Bloggy Friends: I am pregnant. By my birthday, mid-summer, I expect to be quite large – I will be around 7 months pregnant then if all goes well, knock wood, God willing, etc.

I know, I know – take a moment, take a deep breath. It was a bit of a shock to us too, Sweet Dub in particular.

If you’re interested, I have been blogging about it on my super secret pregnancy blog, which I will make public for you now. Read on if you have a moment. If you don’t, at least just read this one post about Viva’s reaction. It was quite heartwarming and hilarious.

As for me, even though I’ve known about it for 5 weeks now, I’m still trying to work it all out. Don’t get me wrong – I am happy and curious about this new little person, but a bit freaked out about how we will fit another child into the Blah Blah lifestyle. More specifically, into the Blah Blah home, which you should note is only 864 sq. ft. Our bedroom quite literally has no space for a bassinet, never mind a changing table or dresser, and we have two closets in our entire house.
It will all work out, because we will figure it out. I’m just concerned (as I must be) with logistics. Happy Friday! More to come…

Friday, April 04, 2008

Disneyland, Belatedly

Ah, yes, Disneyland. I realize I have not yet recapped it for you.

When we last left the Blah Blahs, Viva's Best Friend's mom had not yet responded about Disneyland, despite the fact that this would be a completely free trip for her and one adult guest (except for gas). Well, my friends, Best Friend's mom never ever returned Mama Blah Blah's calls. Last time the Blah Blahs and Best Friends got together, they spent four hours on a playdate at the Blah Blah homestead. Were the snacks insufficient? Were the baseboards not clean? Was it something I said? Who knows?

Moving on: Auntie Lola and her offspring were more than happy to come along. We were more than happy to treat them, and Viva was more than happy to have her cousins along. You might think that the three kids of different genders/ages would be an awkward mix. But you would be wrong. Viva and M, the 9-year-old, have very similar personalities and really enjoy each other. Viva and T, the 5-year-old, are different temperamentally but close enough in age that they have common interests. Thus: win-win.

Lola and fam rolled up to our house at 8:25 in the morning on Saturday. They actually arrived early, which was shocking. We weren't ready, which is even more unusual. We hit the road at about 8:50, arrived at Disneyland at 9:30, and what with the tram and stroller rental (for all our stuff, not for the kids) hit the park officially at about 10:00 AM.

The rest of the day is a bit of a blur. Let me share some of it with you in pictures:



Viva with "Jack Sparrow," who could not keep his hands off her hair. (Jealous!) This was on Tom Sawyer Island, the only calm spot in the entire park. You get there by raft, and there are no rides on the island. I could have stayed there for hours.




The teacups. This was pretty much the favorite ride for all three kids. T hated every other ride (you see Lola is having to gingerly place him in his seat. He has an innate distrust of all rides.). M and Viva both enjoyed the roller coaster (T would not ride) and the Buzz Lightyear ride (T was only interested in getting a souvenir - poor little guy. "He has trouble with new situations," Lola said).



The seething tide of humanity at the Disneyland parade. It is impossible to convey to you how many friggin' people clog the park on a Saturday at Disneyland. I think they let in approximately 9 trillion people per hour.



End of the day. From left: Viva, M, and T. The kids are completely high on cotton candy and who-knows-what. At this point, M has already begun begging for Viva to sleep over that night, the other two have joined in haranguing my sister, and Lola has caved despite my protestations that we can plan it some other time. So we shlep back through the park, onto the tram, tramp through the parking lot, remove the car seat from our car, install it in Lola's car, and wave goodbye.

I think I fell asleep at about 8:30. Lola reports that (a) none of the kids slept in the car on the way home and (b)Viva did not fall asleep until close to midnight. That Lola, she is a trooper, all right.

Tuesday, April 01, 2008

Happy Birthday, Viva My Love

Dear Viva,

You turned 5 today. How is it possible? Daddy and I look at this gorgeous, long-legged, smart and silly girl, and you take our breath away. You are so much more amazing than I could ever have imagined. I love it that you are both sensible and fanciful. I love it that you want to be a superhero, an astronaut, a cowgirl, a zoologist, a mom. I love your little turns of phrase and the way you frown when I laugh at some of the things you say, and the way you immediately stop frowning when I say I’m not laughing at you, I’m just laughing because the way you talk makes me happy. Even when I am exhausted and not even wanting to deal with anything, I do marvel at your exuberance.

What a journey it has been with you. You have evolved from a never-want-to-leave-mama’s-side baby to a somewhat timid toddler to an absolutely fearless Five. Your parents both love to talk, and so do you. For years now, people have been telling me how advanced you are for your age, how verbal you are, how easy it is to understand you. We lie on your bed and you read to me, sounding out some of the words slowly. It is heaven for me, a hardcore reader and lover of words, to be by your side as you learn to enjoy poetry and song lyrics. Now you are learning jokes!

I so look forward to growing up with you and I know you will teach me as much as I teach you. I love you so, so much, my little puka shell. Here’s to many more birthdays together.

Love,
Mama



Viva, June 2003, with her Daddy




April 1, 2004. Daddy & Viva in Santa Barbara, CA. Age 1.




April 1, 2005. Viva doing her birthday dance in her room before her party. Age 2.

April 1, 2006. With her face painted, at a party with her cousins. Age 3.


April 1, 2007. Viva on the phone with her grandpa (too sick to come to the party). Age 4.
More to come of Viva in all her Fabulous Fiveness!

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

More Powerful Than a Locomotive!

Today is Tuesday, and we are exactly a week away from Viva’s 5th birthday. We are not doing a HUGE party this year, but we are doing a small party at school (cupcakes, goody bags) and we are supposed to be taking her and her best friend C. to Disneyland* the weekend before the birthday – i.e. this coming Saturday. Now, I have called C’s mother twice in the past week and a half and left messages on both her home and cell phones. I offered to just take C. with us, or, if her mom was not comfortable with that, we would of course pay for her as well. NO RESPONSE. This is after I already ran it by her a month or so ago and she agreed to come. So now I am scrambling a bit and will probably see if one or both of my nephews can come instead. I know Viva is going to be really disappointed if C. can’t come – I fully expect big, drippy tears, veins standing out from neck, etc. – so I am pretty ticked off on her behalf.

At any rate, Viva decided that for school, she wants a Bat Cat party. Bat Cat is a fairly minor character in the Charlie and Lola series, so there is no such thing as commercially-licensed Bat Cat paraphernalia. I don’t have as much time on my hands these days as I did when I was home on medical leave and made the Bat Cat Halloween costume, so I asked her to compromise a bit and do a general superhero party. She was down with that, because lately she is crazy for The Incredibles and wants to be Dash (“He can RUN! ON! WATER!”)



and she knows the boys in the class (who outnumber the girls 2 to 1) would be cool with Spiderman and Batman masks and all. But as I am looking for goody bag stuff, etc., I’ve been smacked in the face again with how unbalanced all marketing crap is.

The only female prepubescent superhero that I’m aware of is “Word Girl” who appears on PBS:



She’s great and all, but she has a limited audience. There is no big-name girl superhero.**

This bums me out. Clearly, I am going to have to create one in my spare time.

Speaking of non-commercial superhero stuff for your kid (and we were, weren’t we?), check out Little Capers. Now I’m stomping off to finish a program budget, in a single bound.


*I know, this seems to completely contradict my hatred of all things Disney. But we live less than an hour away from D-Land and Viva has never been and wants to go. Sometimes for your kids you have to suck it up.

** Yes, I know Dash’s sister is a superhero, but she’s in junior high. She can turn invisible and create force fields, which is pretty handy, but she doesn’t have the punchy personality of Dash, so I can see why Viva is not so taken with her.