Last night was hell!

Teething sucks.

MJ has the lung power of an opera star should she choose to be one.

Mama Day

It has been a long time since I've read a book purely for pleasure, even longer since it was a work of fiction. That's what working on a PhD and teaching European history courses can do to you. However, a month or so ago I promised myself that I would take some time to indulge my love of books and read something just for myself, with no view to writing a paper or teaching a class. The book I chose was one that was recommended to me by a woman on a mothering discussion board. It's called Mama Day. I thoroughly enjoyed the read and plan to build up a new TBR list (To Be Read, for those who aren't obsessive readers, don't already have such lists and have never used that particular acronym) of modern authors recommended to me by other people or those which simply catch my eye.


Mama Day was written by Gloria Naylor, an African American woman from New York writing about life on a small fictional island, Willow Springs, straddling the border between South Carolina and Georgia. The people of Willow Springs, and specifically the Day family, trace their ancestry back to a woman, whose name no one wants to mention, and the actions she took allowing her to obtain freedom from the slave owning master of the land. The book is a complex but comfortable tapestry of voices fleshing out two of the main characters and one voice that seems to embody the island, its history and the presence of Mama Day herself. The island and its people thrive on customs that are both confusing and alienating to people from “across the bridge.” The people of Willow Springs reject the idea of mainland living and adhere to their own traditions which are largely oral and dependent upon folklore.

On its most superficial level Mama Day is the tale of two people coming to terms with themselves and their personal histories in order to strengthen and support their relationship. However, were this the driving narrative of the story it would fall flat and hardly merit mention. What fuels this story is the tension between the mythical and the concrete, the traditional and the cosmopolitan, the heart and the mind.

Miranda Day, or Mama Day, the eponymous powerful lead character of the story is a woman who straddles two centuries, having been born in the previous one while thriving in the present. Although she is more than 80 years old she is easily the most powerful woman on the island mentally, spiritually and physically. She is a practiced midwife and personally delivered nearly each of the island's inhabitants. Although her midwifery is a large part of Mama Day's personality she is also known to have great strength and ability with “roots” and demonstrates her powers through her flashes of future events and the ability to call the weather at her will. This matriarchal figure is the last glue binding her family together and forcing her grand-niece, Cocoa, a woman who deserted her home and familiar way of life to live in New York, to come to terms with her heritage and open her past to her new husband, whatever the consequences.

I fear that a large portion of the deeper shades of meaning of this story have been lost on me because of my lack of familiarity with African American folklore and oral histories. Naylor draws heavily upon what could probably be called a cultural memory. That culture, fictionalized in Willow Springs, is what beats at the heart of Mama Day. Even with my lack of knowledge and understanding of the material underlining her work, I found Naylor's writing, largely imitating oral narration, colorful and the storyline compelling.

Has anyone else read this book? I'd love to hear other opinions, perhaps opinions of people who have a greater knowledge of folklore than I.

next up: Tracy Chevalier's The Virgin Blue. And please remember, I'm looking for suggestions.

sleep crawling

A little over a month and a half ago I put up a post about MJ's habit of trying to roll over in her sleep. At the time I thought it was odd. Now, not so much.

We had a rough night last night. I knew it would be since she had been working so hard on trying to crawl all day and right before bed I noticed that her gums were swollen. Looks like this is going to be a double whammy week. Joy of joys.

About once every hour MJ would wake herself (and therefore me) up because she had managed to face plant into her mattress. Each time I went in there her butt was up in the air and she looked like she was digging to China. Maybe she was trying to get to her aunt and uncle in Hong Kong. What do I know?

What I do know is that this is only the beginning. She is now sleep crawling which, if she follows the pattern she did when she was sleep rolling, means that she will be a very mobile little girl inside of a week. I'd better get my ass in gear and start doing some serious baby proofing around here.

Poor cats have no idea what they are in for. Run, Simba, while you still have whiskers and the chance to get away!

Week 3 weigh in

Well, I somehow managed to lose a whopping 2 pounds this past week. Not too sure how it happened since I only got to work out twice, but hey, I'll go with it.

This means that I am now 5 pounds away from my pre-pregnancy weight and 8 pounds away from my personal ideal.

Yahoo! Progress sure feels good.

Makeover Monday

Last week I mentioned that Google Reader was feeding my habit and causing me to read many more blogs. Well, yesterday I stumbled across Am I Going Mad or Am I Just a Mommy. (Admittedly, it was another habit that brought me there.... LOST, but that's a story for another time.) Moodswinging Mommy has a weekly thread called "Makeover Monday". I'm intrigued and think I'll play along.

Here is a list of my desired accomplishments for this week:

1. wakeup and hour before the baby so I can get some stuff done around the house calmly and properly, not rushed.

2. keep up with the laundry

3. clean the kitchen before going to bed.

4. find the time to shower each and every day. (sounds gross, yes I know, but MJ is demanding and there is very little time in my day for things that don't include her.)
   

5. Go on a date with hubby. (aka CableDad.)*

*From now on I will refer to Morgan strictly as MJ and Jim strictly as CableDad. Call it changing the names to protect the innocent. :)

Who lives in your neighborhood?

After the Friday night strike of the Orchid Thief the Orchid lady phoned the police to report the theft. Apparently the bicycle of a young girl who lives a block or so away was also stolen. The police informed the Orchid Lady that they are on the lookout for an ex-convict who lives about 2 blocks away. He has been brought up on assault, robbery, kidnapping, and sexual battery charges in the past and the cops are looking for an excuse to get him. They informed the Orchid Lady that he also has had a crack habit in the past and that may account for the recent thefts.

All this talk got me thinking about who actually lives in our neighborhood. Months ago a friend of mine told me about a website called Family Watchdog which keeps track of the home and office locations of registered sex offenders and other criminals. I did a search for our address. We have two in our area.

Who lives in your neighborhood?

The Orchid Thief

When I woke up this morning I was planning on having a nice quite relaxing couple of hours while MJ's daddy took her to a baby Gymboree music class. It turns out that she is not quite ready for the class and got a little freaked out by the instruments, but that's a story for another time.

As this was going to be a lazy Saturday morning I didn't bother to change out of my Pjs as I sat on the couch to read for awhile. It was a decision that I regretted when my neighbor from across the street stopped by and knocked on the door. She is a wonderfully friendly woman who has been helping me feed a recent addiction to orchids. I've never really been much of a green thumb, but a few months back my step-mother bought me a lovely chocolate orchid (the flowers smell exactly like chocolate) and shortly after that I went to the Orchid Festival at Fairchild Botanic Garden with my mother and acquired a few more orchids. Since then, with the help of my neighbor, the Orchid Lady, I have been doing marvelously well at not only keeping my little green friends alive but also getting them to thrive.

This morning, however, the Orchid Lady stopped by to see if all of my orchids, which only numbered around 10, had been stolen as well. Yes, I said, “as well.” You see, the Orchid Lady had at least 30 or more orchids hanging on the palm trees in the front yard of her house. She has what must be at least 200 or so more elsewhere around her house. Sadly, when she woke up this morning and took her dog out for a walk she noticed they had all been stolen. She came by my house to see how we fared. All of mine were gone as well. She talked about phoning the police to file a report and mentioned how she thought it was probably kids who stole them to resell them to the street vendor down the road.

Of course, we all know what will come of filing a police report. I mean, in all honesty, in a city like Miami I'm sure (or at least I hope) the police have more important issue to attend to. While I wish there was a possibility of getting my little green friends back, I know there isn't. My husband keeps saying how I can get new orchids and start my blossoming collection over again. Somehow that's not quite the point.

In a way, I feel violated. Someone walked up onto my well lit porch in the middle of the night while we were all asleep and stole from me. Yes, this is Miami. Yes, I should expect such things to happen I suppose, but for the past year we have been here I have been lulled into thinking that my neighborhood was a real neighborhood. The people are friendly and know each other. We stop to chat on the street. We have had dinner at each other's houses. Now, I know it wasn't one of my neighbors who ran off with our orchids, but nonetheless, the neighborhood just doesn't have that same safe homey feel anymore. The orchid thief ran off with more than just my flowers.

music lessons

We go to Gymboree every Friday afternoon. Morgan loves it and I'm constantly hoping to meet other mothers to whom I can relate (not yet). Anyway, it is customary at our Gymboree to have a weekly discussion topic. This week's topic was music you like to listen to with your baby. What sorts of music does s/he like? What sorts of things so you sing with him/her? etc.

As we went around the room and I hear the replies of the other mothers I knew that MJ and I were out of the loop.

“Oh, Stevie likes the 'Tinker Boxer' song.”
“Anna loves the Putumayo CDs.”
“Evan laughs every time we sing 'Five Little Monkeys'”

When they got to me my reply was, “Morgan loves AC/DC, but the early years. She definitely prefers Bon Scott to Brian Johnson. Oh yeah, and we listen to a lot of Tool and Nine Inch Nails. Those are always favorites.”

I was greeted by stunned silence and then uncomfortable laughter.

What can I say? The kid's got good taste.

De-Lurking Day

So thanks to Stacie I now have the ability to see how many people check my blog each day. Even cooler than that, I can tell where they come from (Dave and Chinatsu, you're not checking nearly often enough! lol). This new found ability has left me wondering. Why is it that when I get at least 40-50 visits per day and the average length of each visit is 3-4 minutes, I never have more than 4 or 5 comments on any one post?

Now I realize that I'm not the most scintillating author and that the majority of what I write is certainly interesting only to a very small viewing public, but with so many repeat visitors I can only think that you actually like reading my posts. So, if you're out there and you're reading this but don't usually post a comment, take this as a “De-Lurking Day.” Hell, take it as a De-Lurking weekend. Come out of the woodwork. Say hello. Say you like my ramblings. Say I'm a boring bitch. I don't care what you say (provided it's not raunchy, and even that might be acceptable if done with taste lol), but say something.

Call it an ego thing.

And, thank you SilverNeurotic for giving me the idea for this blog holiday. :)

baby personality test

I found a baby "personality test" on a mothering board this morning. As a lark I took it to see what insights it would give me into my daughter's future.

What can you expect for your baby? She will be very popular. She will not have any problems making friends. She is fun, optimistic, and full of energy. She may not be the most organized person but she thinks well on her feet. She likes to see everyone get along and may meddle in other people’s relationships in her attempt to keep the peace. She is outgoing and not afraid of meeting new people. In school, she is likely to be in the drama club, on a sports team, or involved in the yearbook committee. She enjoys gossiping and takes pride in the fact that people trust her to tell her their secrets. She likes to give out advice even though her advice is not always the best. Even though she is very popular, she is very insecure. She likes to be praised by others and will seek out people that give her attention.

She will likely pursue a career working with people. She would be miserable if she had to work in a cubicle with nobody to talk to. She may be indecisive when picking a career. She may try more than one job before she settles on one she likes. Career choices may include waiter, journalist, teacher, nurse/health professional, flight attendant, or sales representative.

~taken from justmommies.com

food preferences

Things Morgan likes to eat

• bananas
• avocados
• sweet potatoes
• pears
• green beans
• cereal
• carrots
• celery sticks
• her feet
• her toys
• her clothes
• the straps on her car seat
• Simba's ears
• my hair
• my fingers
  
• anything else in reach

Things Morgan doesn't like to eat

• watermelon

Go figure.

getting ready for summer

My future's so bright, I gotta wear shades!

Week 2 weigh in

When I woke up this morning I dutifully got on the scale to see if there had been any change in my weight. Amazingly I lost 1 pound. I say 'amazingly' since I haven't exactly been the poster child for good eating this week. We had pizza for dinner at least once and I'm sure that cake my step-mother made for Morgan's 6 month birthday wasn't diet.

Next week I will go back and get a body fat % reading and new measurements from the gym.

pierced ears and pink clothes

A few days ago there was a post up on A Mom, a Blog and the Life In-Between about the Curious Case of the Evil, Ear Piercing Cubans responding to a post elsewhere in which people compared piercing a baby's ears to genital mutilation. Obviously the phrase “different strokes for different folks” applies here. While I think it is absurd to compare piercing a baby girl's ears to mutilation in any form (although I may be biased here as I am heavily pierced myself and have never felt mutilated), I certainly would never do it to my little girl. This is not a moral statement and it is not an assault on the practice of piercing. I just personally would never do it. I feel MJ deserves the right to make that choice for herself and that was the comment I made in response to the post, the first one in the list of replies.


When I went back a day or so later to read other comments the tone of each was basically in agreement with the original author: How absurd it is to make such a lopsided comparison. One comment in particular, however, bothered me. The poster described a story in which she encountered a baby of a fellow worker dressed in a white t-shirt and overalls and exclaimed, “He's so cute.” It turns out that the baby was in fact a girl, something about which she was later informed, prompting her to reply, “Really? well maybe she should get her ears pierced. Or not dress her like a boy.”


That statement really annoys me. I was going to reply to it on the original blog, but as my response was forming in my head it began to sound more like a rant and I thought here would be the better venue.


As many people know I am fairly adamant about not having MJ dressed in pink. Personally, I don't like the color and I see no reason to dress my baby girl like a bottle of Pepto-Bismol. This is a lot easier said than done since it seems that many manufacturers of infant clothing generally only make pink for girls until past the age of 12 months. I have gone out of my way to make sure that MJ has clothing in purple, green, black, blue, orange, red and any other color I can find only because I think that the 'pink = girl' equation is absurd. It is my own belief that the tendency of mothers to dress their baby girls only in pink stems from a (possibly) subconscious fear of having someone think their girls are boys.


I feel a similar way about ear piercing. I have no problem with it. I won't do it to her because I think that she should choose to do it herself. I understand that it is also a cultural thing in some instances. I also understand that many mothers simply like it and therefore do it. I have no problem with any of that.


What bugs me is the assumption that it is my responsibility to make sure other people know my baby is a girl by outfitting her with the trappings of "female". Why should I have to I get her ears pierced so that you know what to call her? Since when are jeans and a white t-shirt the exclusive property of the male wardrobe anyway?


Just because I don't put my child in pink frills, or put headbands on her, or put stick-on bows on her head does not mean she looks like a boy. Why is it that no one asks the mother of a boy in a plain white onesie if he is a girl? The assumption always is that if the baby isn't in pink or doesn't have pierced eras the baby is male. How much sense does that make?


What I don't understand is why our culture requires us to outwardly tag female babies in some way to prove to strangers that they are, in fact, female. Why not say that any baby not wearing trucks or footballs must be a girl? It is an equally absurd assumption.


There is an easy solution to that problem, people. If you are wishing to compliment a baby of whose gender you are uncertain, simply say, “What a cute baby!” Simple and to the point

a twist of fate

So after my dose of vitriol on Friday fate has decided to make a monkey out of me.

I had to bring my little car into the shop this morning to get new tires and have a general overhaul. The difficulty with that, as any mother knows, is trying to figure out a way to keep a child entertained for numerous hours while waiting for the service to be completed. Thankfully a friend of my father's offered me the use of his car for the day. Morgan and I went to the garage this morning followed by my aunts in the second car.

The catch? The borrowed car is a Suburban. Don't get me wrong, I am incredibly grateful for the use of the loaner, but the irony of the situation has not escaped me. Nor will I forget it later when I have to spend $100 to fill that monster (nicknamed Big Blue).

Being that I am so used to driving a little '93 Camry, this car is an entirely new experience. It's HUGE. No wonder SUV drivers are so oblivious of other drivers on the road. How could you see them around that monster?

Anyway, for anyone out there who dislikes SUVs and, even worse, Hummers (again, something to add to my list of things that sound dirty but aren't) as much as I do, check out FUH2.

road rage

I am sick to death of overprivileged, cell phone talking, SUV driving women. Wake up, bitches, you are not the only people on the road!

Why is it that the person driving the Porsche Cayenne who nearly runs you down as she flies through the unnoticed stop sign is inevitably a woman on a cell phone? Never mind the environmentally unfriendliness of the car she has chosen to drive but must she always be on the freaking phone? Come on people! I'm sure that whatever you have to say can wait the 15 minutes it will take you to reach your destination and no longer be driving. Do you really feel you are so important that you can totally disregard traffic regulations and nearly run down a woman in a MUCH smaller car complete with baby in the back seat simply because you are on the phone? Let me break it to you gently. In this day and age nearly everyone has a cell phone. Having one does not make you important. Talking on one while driving, however, makes you an inconsiderate asshole.

Inevitably these road hazard SUVs are of a Porsche or Mercedes (Latin for 'bribe' by the way. Look it up. merces, mercedis) make. I mean, really, how ridiculous is it to have a Porsche SUV? I'm sorry folks, I don't care what kind of pepper you name it after, it is still just an SUV, not a sports car.

I realize that presently there is no law in the state of Florida banning drivers from driving one handed because they are talking on the phone. There are no regulations for hands free devices. I'm not an activist. I'm not trying to petition for such a law to exist, no matter how good an idea I think it is. All I want is (obviously impossible) for drivers to have some sort of consideration on the road.

This afternoon on my way back from Gymboree I was nearly hit by a woman (black Porsche Cayenne) who ran a red light. Naturally she was on the phone. Naturally she did not care at all for the fact that she barely missed smashing into the rear left side of my car (with baby in the back). Two days ago I was being tailgated (again a black Porsche Cayenne) while driving on I-95. The woman was so close to me that I couldn't see the nose of her car in my rear view mirror. She was so close I KNOW she would have seen Morgan in the back seat had she not been on the phone. None of this, however, was a concern to her as she tailgated me at 65 miles per hour since her SUV and deep and meaningful conversation marked her out as a much more significant person than either myself or my baby.

Admittedly, I'm not the biggest fan of the SUV to begin with. However, should an affordable hybrid SUV ever be developed I'd buy it in a minute just to shield myself and my child from the Ford Excessives the pollute the roads. Those gas guzzling monsters apparently do not come equipped with rear or side view mirrors. Or if they do the owner's manual expressly forbids using them while the car is in motion. However, my personal dislike of SUVs aside, today I will direct all my anger and venom at the inconsiderate and oblivious cell phone talking soccer moms* who clearly believe that whomever they harm on the road is inconsequential as long as their own kids are safely strapped in the back numbing their brains on seat-back DVD players.

*Please don't mistake me. this is not a rant against soccer moms in general. In fact, I hope to be one someday.

Feeding my habit

Since becoming a SAHM I have found myself frequently 'trolling the blog world. However, I restricted myself to checking blogs only two times a day. Once in the morning (that is, if Morgan takes a nap) and once in the evening. Why bother looping through all the blogs I'd like to read if there isn't going to be anything new up on them.

In steps Google. Now Google may be slowly taking over the cyber-space world (and in the 21st century that really means taking over the whole world) but since their products are so damned cool I don't consider them an evil empire, like say Disney World. Google Reader is the ultimate enabler. It is a widgety thing (technical term) that I added to my Google homepage and gives me up to the minute updates on any blog to which I subscribe. Now I know when the sites are updated and I can 'troll much more efficiently.

What does this mean in the long run? Basically it means that I'm reading a lot more blogs now. So, if I've been posting on your blog or you've been reading mine and you'd like me to add you to my blog roll (presently rather meager) drop me a comment and let me know. :)

Tough Day.

"Do you mind if I just rest here for a moment?"

6 month stats

We've just returned from our six month pediatric appointment. Miss MJ is certainly growing and her love of food is showing.

She is now 26 1/2 inches long and weighs 18 lbs and 12 oz. That puts her around the 70th percentile for height and the 80th for weight.

fun with forms

I have discovered a new way to make Morgan laugh. Unfortunately it is unintentional.

As with any martial art, studying kickboxing requires learning certain choreographed movements called forms or Kata. When I go to the studio on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays I learn the steps to these forms. I practice them at home in order to improve before my next session. Since the play mats that I have put down in Morgan's room are perfectly suited to doing yoga or other floor exercises I have been practicing my forms on them. Morgan is always my audience. This morning I discovered that watching Mamma do forms incorrectly is cause enough to laugh hysterically in Morgan's world.

The final step (at least, as far as I have learned) in the form I am currently practicing requires a 270 degree turn into a squatting position called the Horse Stance. Well, unfortunately for me but fortunately for her, I am not very good at completing this turn gracefully. The matter is further complicated by the fact that the play mats have letters and numbers that pop out of them. As I was practicing this turn my foot rather gracelessly caught on a 'Q' and over I went. Miss Morgan was well out of harm's way but she was close enough for a front row seat to a Mamma tumble. She thought that was hysterical.

My friend Jeff warned me awhile ago that his boys always find it funny when he gets hurt. Guess Morgan has the same sense of humor. Maybe I should bring her to my kickboxing class and see if she finds that funny.