Come on, ladies.  Britney loses custody of her kids.  Now, Marion Jones admits to steroid use.  Such disappointment.  Next, Alice Walker will admit to plagiarizing the work that won her a Pulitzer Prize.  Gimme a break.  I need some good news about strong women around the world, or even just my country. 

 

Well, word is that if Hillary gets elected, dh Bill will consider promoting the U.S. around the world.  Now that’s some good news.  Life was good, oh so good, for me and my friends and family when Bill was Prez.  I’m not saying that I’ll necessarily vote for “Billary,” but I didn’t vote for Bush, either, so what do I know about what the majority of the country wants.  And look at our country’s PR mess, now.  Granted, it hasn’t been all that great for years, at least not in the countries I’ve visited since 1979.  They envy our wealth – and are literally dying to get over here - but feel contempt for our egocentricity. That view may have been skewed somewhat because, back when I visited, the big U.S. TV shows they got were “Knight Rider” and “Beverly Hills, 90210.”  ‘Nuff said?

 

So, women out there, it’s like the title of Walker’s latest book:  “We Are the Ones We Have Been Waiting For,” (June Jordan).  Let’s get out there and inspire, not dismay.  And in the words of our nation’s cheerleaders, “We can do it, yes we can, if we can’t do it, no one can!”

Road trip!  I never seem to get past the excitement of those two words. Back in college, my eyes glittered at the thought of getting out of Blacksburg and seeing something, anything, anywhere else!  Those were the good ole’ days, when anything and everything was possible.  Truthfully, most of the time I was working to make ends meet, so my road trips mainly consisted of traveling back and forth to visit my hometown and family.  Did it really make sense to drive four-and-a-half hours to get laundry done?  Aah, it was just an excuse to get out of town.  Now, a road trip still conjures up a welcome respite from day-to-day drudgery, though I somewhat dread the packing and planning that goes along with toting two young boys, an infant and a husband (I do love you!) on the road.  Still, when I heard that my friend from CA would be in a nearby town for business, I jumped at the chance to get out and go on an adventure of my own. 

 

It was a straightforward trip:  a one-hour, highway drive from Richmond to Williamsburg.  But, I’d never done it before.  So, to heighten the excitement, I let my DH print out the directions at work to hand off to me as I left, like an actor who doesn’t get the script until the day before taping.  I didn’t even know exactly where I would meet my friend, letting my DH choose one of the many Visitor’s Centers that Google and MapQuest spit back at him when he searched.  Could I make it on half a tank?  Yeah, that would be exciting – the prospect of a sheltered West End mom running out of gas on a seedy side street in Williamsburg.  Who would I call?  How far could I walk in heels?  But, nah, the DH thought the better of it and filled ‘er up. Darn!

 

Oh, I did manage to spend a couple of days shopping and deciding what to wear.  After all, neither my CA friend nor I are exactly world travelers, so who knows when we’d meet again?  Got to leave a good impression.  I did manage to impress my dh with SOME practical planning:  I brought some books on CD.  My grandmother had recently mentioned how much she liked to read poetry, and I dabble in it here and there.  Why not listen to some on the way down?  My dad’s favorite is Robert Frost, probably because he brushed past him while strolling in a park up north one day, long ago.  But, have you ever listened to him read his poetry?  Creepy.  Well, it is October, and almost Halloween and Colonial Williamsburg does have its ghosts…

 

The hour went by pleasantly and uneventfully and we eventually met up at the correct Visitor’s Center.  We hit the outlet stores.  Later, we rocked in the chairs with the old folks at Cracker Barrel.  Man, can we talk!  I mentioned that I had been reading “On the Road,” by Jack Kerouac.  She confessed that she’d heard it was stream-of-consciousness, not really her type of writing.  I wasn’t impressed, either.  It sort of rambles, describing adventures in hitchhiking, drinking too much, meaningless sex (though not in a titillating, 21^st century way). About halfway through, I looked online to see what other readers thought about the book.  Some were ardent admirers, others hated it, but one said that it was ground-breaking at the time that it was written, that it had inspired the repressed young people of post WWII to question and think differently about things.

 

I was telling Laura that this trip was so not “On the Road.” I didn’t steal a car, get in a bar fight or sleep around.  And I wasn’t wondering who would be my life partner, nor traveling cross-country, trailing behind a crazy, irresponsible friend who couldn’t care less.  In fact, my life is quite the opposite. Driving back, I concluded that this trip – like any road trip – is not just a going-away, but also about a coming home, to a realization.   I reaffirmed the great “girlfriend” I have in Laura. And, great doesn’t just come along everyday.  But as the chilling October air signaled the dark molasses nightfall, I also sweetly anticipated my return home, to the embrace of my great family. 

 

And I hope I never get past that.

The thing about being a SAHM, especially if you have more than one child, is that stuff never gets done. 

 

Oh, you start plenty of things, like opening up the book to the recipe for Yorkshire Madeira cake, which you’d like to make for your neighbor who’s coming over for tea for the first time, but between cooking, laundry, getting the children off to school with food in tummies/glasses on/teeth brushed, and “sprucing up” the house for that first impression, you never get past the ingredients list.  (Guess pre-made cookies will have to do).   You just only get halfway.  Like, the time when I thought I’d prepare the coffeemaker the day before so all we (meaning me, usually the first one up) would have to do, early, in the darkest hour before dawn, is flip a switch for that caffeinated, sweet – actually slightly bitter - elixir of life.  I poured in the water but never got around to adding the coffee grains.  It was an unpleasant surprise for the DH, who, that next morning, was the first one up, and added coffee grains plus more water.  Hmmm…

 

Well, I have not gotten around to posting as often as I’d like, either.  My “Secrets of the Baby Whisperer,” book has not revealed all the baby-sleeping-through-the-night-and-two-naps-a-day secrets, as I’ve only made it through two-thirds of the book.  The sleep deprivation has successfully gotten me into what I call the tornado cycle:  you can’t see much of what’s ahead or behind because you’re so busy swirling around in the funnel trying to catch up.  So much for a writing career.  Still, I pointed out to my DH that I’ve been following someone else’s parenting blog and was proud of a recent post I had just made.

 

“You haven’t been posting in your blog,” said my DH.

 

I was too numb to coherently respond. I would have liked to let him have it.   Just like I would have liked to have caught up on my scrapbooking, to have gotten the children to bed on time and to school early, to have remembered how the baby wound up sleeping in our bed half the night, and to have had perfectly toned abs by now.

 

What I am so unsuccessfully trying to say concisely is that this blog software is not working for me.  And I sooo need someone or something to work for me.  When I import my writing from MS Word, it’s leaving all these characters in between the paragraphs (I am so sorry!).  Unfortunately, it doesn’t show up when I view it, only when other people do.  There are many other annoying little “un-niceties” that make it difficult for me to edit and post in a timely manner, so I procrastinate and, lately, just don’t do it. 

 

My dh promised me that there are other programs out there that are easier to use.  I’m sure there are.  Eventually, I will find one.  But, for now, it looks like all that will become of that idea is the good intention behind it.

Can’t we all just leave Britney alone? 

 

Yes, I watched the sluggish, pathetic MTV Music Awards performance, which reminded me so much of Mariah Carey’s first performance after her breakdown, where she appeared like she had taken one tranquilizer too many.  Britney’s going through a long, rough patch in life that makes us cringe, since her greatest talent seems to be performing in public, so we’re constantly subjected to her, well, craziness.  Though not a big Britney fan, I do want to see all women succeed. But with Britney, I feel it especially, painfully so, since she’s a mom, like me, and she’s got these two innocent children to raise.  Who is lending her a helping hand?  Why do so many just sit back, point fingers and laugh? 

 

Britney’s descent from “good girl” seemed to accelerate after her breakup with Justin Timberlake, while his fame has skyrocketed.  What happened there? Maybe it triggered a nervous breakdown (the quickie marriages…and K-Fed?  Come on!) or latent mental illness.  Or maybe she just didn’t have the emotional support, didn’t have enough trusted friends, to help her deal with it.

 

So, how ‘bout Britney’s mom?  Being a mom, I’m the first to defend mom’s…no one really knows what it’s like raising children, like a mom does.  But, back in the 90’s, I believe mom was manager when Britney became popular with her video, “Oops, I Did it Again”, in which she wore some super-short school girl uniform and over-the-knee socks.  Didn’t we all want to believe that she was just a tease, that this video was just “business,” that it was all an act, and that her morals were safely intact?  The next time I saw her on MTV was in the making of a video in which she slithered around on a leaning tree with some male-model type. I wondered, “Mom is okay with this?” 

 

Anyway, now that Britney is an adult herself, do we just leave her to flounder?  Where’s her famous kisser, Madonna?  I guess party buddies Lindsay and Paris have enough legal/substance abuse troubles of their own.  Like Mariah Carey, Britney’s fame was too much, too soon, without enough people around to tell her the truth (like, she should not have worn that sparkly black bikini – a slinky one-piece, sure!) and without the continuing support of good friends. 

 

No, we cannot leave Britney alone.  She’s been too alone.  There are people around her who can step up to the plate and help her make positive changes in her life.  The rest of us can only pray that they do…for women’s sake…for mom’s sake…for her children.

I am up early to read this book, "Secrets of the Baby Whisperer," mainly b/c I want to sleep.  Talk about ironic.  Well, it all started during our family vacation.

This summer, we planned to spend a long weekend at the beach, figuring, that that would be enough togetherness for this family of five.  So last week, we were off on vacation.  Baby Thomas was the wild card.  I was worried that he wouldn't sleep well, since he had been waking up during the night and sleeping in our bed again.  That wouldn't be much of a vacation for me.

Fortunately, he did sleep well -- in his travel crib --- the first night.  The next night, he was overly fussy, so we let him fall asleep in our bed, then transferred him to the crib.  That worked for a few hours, then he was up again.  Ditto for the next night.  When we got home, he wanted to bf  all the time and barely ate solids.  He napped ever-so- briefly and kept waking up most of the night.  Yikes!  By this time, my brain struggled to function.  I called the Dr. but since Thomas didn't really seem sick, I agreed to monitor him for the next few days( and kick myself for not knowing what to do, despite all my experience).  Finally, I dug out this book from my library pile.

Thank God!

While the "What to Expect...." book series seemed to focus more on doing all the right things, I felt that this book was more about getting to know the personality and temperament of your baby.  Or, maybe that was me.  Maybe doing everything "right" was what I focused on with my first children.  Boy, did I ever!  I smugly congratulated myself on my "Angel" baby and derided myself for my "Grumpy" baby.

But this baby is completely different.  Of course!  Mother Nature would have it no other way.

Turns out, little "T-Bone" is a "Spirited" baby.  And, I think I got a bit lazy.  These many years of parenting had perhaps made me overconfident, and, by-the-by, forgetful.  Sleep deprivation can do that!  Anyway, I began a new nighttime routine last night, following the author's suggestions, and it worked like a charm.  My DH was not home at the time, so when he got back, it was late, and maybe I prattled on a little too long about "this exciting new book" and how T-Bone's nighttime routine would be different and how it took several tries but that now he was sound asleep.  He blinked. 

It's not surprising, then, that at 4:00 AM, my DH brought the crying baby to me in bed, wondering what to do.  Since we were all blearily awake by now, I fell back to the old routine:  I fed him and put him back in bed.  Well, at least he was in his own bed, not ours.  But I was up for too long, too early.  So, here I am, ready to "finish" the baby whispering book, then pass it on to my DH.  I keep thinking of that Shakespeare quote, "To sleep, perchance to dream..."  Maybe...probably...no, definitely, tonight.

Aaah!  I have had no time to write.  Our lovely little T-Bone has decided to remain attached to my hip, or my husband's shoulder, indeterminately.  It's tough to type one-handed. 

Exhaustion has set in -- after a wonderful vacation I wanted to blog about -- so, I think it's time to hit the Anbesol and Tylenol pretty hard.

Be back for sure next week when the Big Bro's are back in school.

Chao! (Bye!)

Hey, all you Virginia drivers out there! Have you seen the list of fees for breaking the law listed in today’s InRich.com? 

Ay, ay, ay! 

As I was scanning through, I saw that in the $300 fee section was “Failing to stop for pedestrian with guide dog or white cane.”  My first reaction was “What? Ohmigod!  Who does that?”  I can’t believe that we even need a law like that.  And, why is the fee only $300?  Almost running over a blind person is horrible, and should be at least in the $350 category, right?

Okay, now it’s the baby bottles to worry about.  Today’s Washington Post headline regarding the presence of the chemical BPA (Bisphenol A) in clear, plastic baby bottles, gives parents another punch in the gut.  But, not all of us are reeling, exactly.  A Vogue magazine article  -- sorry, I cannot seem to find the article online to link -- that I referred to in a previous post not only explained how the chemical BPA “masquerades as a healthy hormone while causing havoc in your body,” it also mentioned that after newspapers reported on the issue of BPA, “stores on the West Coast sold out of glass bottles.”

Glass bottles?  I am not sure that I’m ready to go that far.  My seven-month old LOVES to throw things.  He’ll also innocently stare at you in his high chair as he sticks his arm straight out to the side, one-by-one dropping each and every thing on his tray, then lean over the edge to see where they all went. 

Fortunately, the Post headline refers to some online retailers offering BPA-free bottles.  But, there is debate in the scientific community as to whether the BPA is even harmful at all. 

I am tired of having all these knee-jerk reactions.  Wouldn't it be nice to know about these issues, even if they're debatable, from our pediatricians or baby books for expecting parents?  As a former teacher, I like to plan for the best and prepare for the worst.  That word is PRE-pare…BEFOREhand.  Still, I'm always ready to learn something new.   I will add the book Our Stolen Future, by Theo Colborn, et al, to my list of books to read.  She – as mentioned in that same Vogue article – “less than a decade ago…noticed pervasive fertility problems in wildlife along the Great Lakes… (She) helped to jump-start congressional action when it was published in 1996.”

Wow, come to think of it, this August Vogue article, “Infertile Ground,” could not have been timelier.  Please check it out!

With massive toy recalls in effect, tossing plastic kids-stuff is a no-brainer.  Like a “good” mom, I have looked on the CPSC (Consumer Product Safety Commission) website and weeded out a couple of “bad” toys already.   And I’ve tossed some old plastic cups.  But, while shopping for a trip to the beach, I came to the sudden realization that traveling with three small children is going to be a “no plastics” nightmare.

First of all, there are feeding logistics.  My seven-month-old eats organic baby food from biodegradable containers three times a day.  Often, he only consumes part of it.  So, I scoop out the amount I think he’ll eat into another bowl (a non-breakable one)… plastic!  In Target, disposable bowls and spoons go into the shopping cart.  Not wanting to spend valuable vacation time washing cloth bibs in the hotel sink, I go for the vinyl bib 3-pack (I checked online…these Circo ones were not recalled). 

Next, every child on a long car trip needs new distractions!  I buy soft rattles with plastic parts and plastic/vinyl teething rings.  (I end up throwing one of these out when DH notices that it smells like chemicals).  The older boys will get mini- magna-doodles, books and maybe a new game for the handheld video game-player.

Last, since this is a beach trip, we’ll need some flotation devices.  Off to the discount store we go to purchase vinyl rafts, beach balls, and a baby float.  I probably won’t have time to check whether these have been recalled.  At this point, after all the activity planning and packing lists, I confess that I don’t much care.

“Well,” I reason to myself, “I’ll only use them for this short trip, so they can’t do much harm.” 

And then, there’s always next year!  It will be easier to plan menus with a toddler who can feed himself and I may have more time to check those plastic beach toys for recalls.  Then again, maybe not…

 

 

We will finally reach the beach for a weekend this month.  Just as I’m starting a blog, I’m gone.  But, hey, why not write about how this family vacation pans out each day.  You know, keep the creative juices flowing.

Who am I kidding?

Just the logistics of what to pack are daunting.  For some strange reason, we seemed to think that the four of us and a baby could fit into one hotel room.  Sure, we CAN do it, but as comedian Chris Rock said, “Just because you COULD drive with your feet, doesn’t mean you SHOULD!”

I’m starting to sweat.

Well the “Six-minute Rule” time is just about up.  Not that it really mattered…I can hear my little screecher through a closed door, over the washer noise, all the way downstairs.  Chao (bye), for now.