We have spent the last couple months, very slowly and deliberately reading pages from Charlotte's Web to Bryony before bed some nights. It's a classic novel of love and friendship, it hopefully teaches children not to fear something because it looks different, and selfishly I never read it as a child so I felt it was long overdue.
We have also, for roughly the same period of time, had a small house spider living behind the sink pedastal in our bathroom. I mostly forget that it's there, but Bryony is all-consumed by its presence, or the assumption that it's present. Actually, I think the cat ate the spider several weeks ago, and I try to relay that bit of information to Bryony, but she can't lay her fear to rest. And, since her potty chair is situated right next to the sink pedastal, and the little eight-legged culprit, bathroom visits have involved me coming to monitor that the spider doesn't get frisky during potty time.
More recently, Bryony has abandoned the potty chair altogether for fear that the spider, long since digested in Holiday's tummy, has somehow grown to huge proportions and will altogether gobble my three-year old up, wet bottom and all. So, she only uses the "big potty" now.
No more potty chair. No more cleaning potty chair. No more stinky residue emanating from potty chair. No more potty chair taking up space in my small bathroom (oops, wait, scratch that. It doubles as a stepstool so it's not going anywhere for awhile).
Thank you, little spider. Job well done. Sorry my cat ate you.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Facebook Faus Pax
Top Ten Things I've Learned Not to Do on Facebook:
1. Ignore a friend request from someone I knew well in junior high and high school, especially since they can see I'm friends with our mutual former classmates.
2. Send a friend request to an old college crush who barely knew I existed then and definitely doesn't know who I am now.
3. Write what I think is a funny story about my husband because chances are he doesn't think it's funny...at...all.
4. Get into a political argument with my Facebook friend's family or friends in the comment section of my friend's wall post.
5. Post anything overly personal if I don't want questions about it later.
6. Post anything bawdy or racy or gross, even if I think sexual humor and potty humor are hilarious. My high school English teacher who happens to be my Facebook friend might not feel the same way.
7. Gossip about friends, colleagues or family, even in good humor. Not on my wall, anyone else's wall, or even in a private message.
8. Forget to send the party invitation to only the Facebook friends I want to come...because having all my Facebook friends, and all their friends attend is just the kind of party I'm looking for.
9. "Like" and comment on every single picture in a friend's album (stalker-ish).
10. Post links to my blog on my Facebook wall, 'cause even if one post is appropriate, pretty soon they'll scroll down to one that ain't.
1. Ignore a friend request from someone I knew well in junior high and high school, especially since they can see I'm friends with our mutual former classmates.
2. Send a friend request to an old college crush who barely knew I existed then and definitely doesn't know who I am now.
3. Write what I think is a funny story about my husband because chances are he doesn't think it's funny...at...all.
4. Get into a political argument with my Facebook friend's family or friends in the comment section of my friend's wall post.
5. Post anything overly personal if I don't want questions about it later.
6. Post anything bawdy or racy or gross, even if I think sexual humor and potty humor are hilarious. My high school English teacher who happens to be my Facebook friend might not feel the same way.
7. Gossip about friends, colleagues or family, even in good humor. Not on my wall, anyone else's wall, or even in a private message.
8. Forget to send the party invitation to only the Facebook friends I want to come...because having all my Facebook friends, and all their friends attend is just the kind of party I'm looking for.
9. "Like" and comment on every single picture in a friend's album (stalker-ish).
10. Post links to my blog on my Facebook wall, 'cause even if one post is appropriate, pretty soon they'll scroll down to one that ain't.
Sha-la-la La...
Because we haven't had television in the last few months, I've managed to miss all of the second series of PBS Masterpiece Mystery "Sherlock." I started streaming them on pbs.org, which is great (not to mention, free!). However, I waffled and waited weeks to have a completely free two-hour stretch, devoid of parenting, cleaning, yoga, etc to watch the series finale, only to find that pbs.org had taken it down from their site, and Hulu wasn't carrying it either. How disappointing. So, I decided to open a one-month-free(!) membership to Netflix.
Upon discovering that the free membership is much more limiting than a normal one (as in, no access to coveted tv shows like the new episodes of "Sherlock), I started looking around for something else to watch. True to form, I decided to settle into my comfort zone--80s sitcom land. One of my family's all-time favorites back in the day was "Family Ties," so that's what I decided to stream.
Looking at tv shows as an adult that you used to watch during your childhood is like discovering them for the first time, all over again. The subtleties, innuendoes, references and allusions are so much more apparent and striking when you're absorbing them from a 35-year old perspective. Like, maybe I knew that Steven Keaton was the station manager for the local PBS station, but that didn't resonate with me as a nine-year old the way it does now. For goodness sake, I donate to my local PBS station every year now. When I was nine, I just watched "Mr. Rogers Neighborhood" and wondered who the "...viewers like you" were.
I also couldn't quite appreciate the culture clash between liberal ex-hippies Steven and Elise and their materialistic, conservative 1980's teenage children Alex, Mallory and Jennifer. I knew there were differences, but only now as an adult does the political commentary and societal humor of the time make sense.
In some way, I feel the timbre of this show resonating so strongly because I want so badly to feel that Bryony carries my values--love for the earth and nature; open-mindedness and acceptance of others no matter the differences; a compelling need to do great work to benefit humanity. I am Steven and Elise Keaton, at least in spirit. I have no idea who Bryony will be. Alex, bright and gifted, driven by a competitive spirit and a srong desire to amass wealth? Mallory, a little dense and shallow, but earnest and gifted in her own right? Or Jennifer, witty and sarcastic beyond her years, a perfect combination of her parents' 60s-era flower-power values and her own 80s-era "me generation."
I think the overarching theme of the show, one that I understood then and understand just as well now, is that it doesn't matter who your children turn out to be. You love them, and you love them hard. You accept them for who they are and they do the same for you. Those are the ties that bind and at the end of the day, that's the whole point.
Upon discovering that the free membership is much more limiting than a normal one (as in, no access to coveted tv shows like the new episodes of "Sherlock), I started looking around for something else to watch. True to form, I decided to settle into my comfort zone--80s sitcom land. One of my family's all-time favorites back in the day was "Family Ties," so that's what I decided to stream.
Looking at tv shows as an adult that you used to watch during your childhood is like discovering them for the first time, all over again. The subtleties, innuendoes, references and allusions are so much more apparent and striking when you're absorbing them from a 35-year old perspective. Like, maybe I knew that Steven Keaton was the station manager for the local PBS station, but that didn't resonate with me as a nine-year old the way it does now. For goodness sake, I donate to my local PBS station every year now. When I was nine, I just watched "Mr. Rogers Neighborhood" and wondered who the "...viewers like you" were.
I also couldn't quite appreciate the culture clash between liberal ex-hippies Steven and Elise and their materialistic, conservative 1980's teenage children Alex, Mallory and Jennifer. I knew there were differences, but only now as an adult does the political commentary and societal humor of the time make sense.
In some way, I feel the timbre of this show resonating so strongly because I want so badly to feel that Bryony carries my values--love for the earth and nature; open-mindedness and acceptance of others no matter the differences; a compelling need to do great work to benefit humanity. I am Steven and Elise Keaton, at least in spirit. I have no idea who Bryony will be. Alex, bright and gifted, driven by a competitive spirit and a srong desire to amass wealth? Mallory, a little dense and shallow, but earnest and gifted in her own right? Or Jennifer, witty and sarcastic beyond her years, a perfect combination of her parents' 60s-era flower-power values and her own 80s-era "me generation."
I think the overarching theme of the show, one that I understood then and understand just as well now, is that it doesn't matter who your children turn out to be. You love them, and you love them hard. You accept them for who they are and they do the same for you. Those are the ties that bind and at the end of the day, that's the whole point.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
A Month In Review
It's been nearly a month since Adam moved. He got a semi-permanent position with Army JAG in the Washington, D.C. area, and left about a month ago to start. It's strange how all of these separations have started to get easier...well, maybe the separations themselves are not easier, but rather, the difficulty of the separation is getting easier to deal with, if that makes sense?
The day Adam left, Bryony discovered Superman, as in the 1978 Christopher Reeve version. She, like her mama (and more pointedly, her daddy), has fallen in love. Adam loves superheroes, I love Christopher Reeve, and Bryony loves all the flying bits. In fact, when Adam left that day, Bryony didn't cry when his car pulled away...but she cried when the movie ended.
I have been reading The Time Traveller's Wife. I saw the movie a few years ago and enjoyed it, and was surprised when Adam brought the book home for me a few months ago. Since I knew how the story would end, I found difficulty getting engaged in the book. After a few attempts, however, I was trapped in an uneasy storyline of a man who travels between his current existence, his childhood, his wife's childhood (which I personally had a hard time swallowing, as I felt it borderline pedophilia), and several random places in between. Now, of course, I'm more than halfway through and can't go to sleep at night unless I've read at least a chapter.
Adam came back this weekend for his first visit since he moved. I looked forward to it with such high hopes for me and Bryony since we've both missed him so much. I worked a half day on Thursday, then picked him up from the airport before going to Bryony's school. She was still sleeping when we arrived, so we were invited by her teachers to sit next to her cot until she awoke. All of her little classmates were so excited to have classroom visitors that they crowded around and played with us until she woke up. Adam is really good with the kids and he was in his element, building block towers and answering all their questions. I could only focus on my little girl, sweet and quiet in her blissful sleep. When she woke up and saw us sitting there, she got jealous and angry that her friends had her daddy's attention, as she really wanted him all to herself. We made a point of sectioning ourselves off so she had some dad time. Afterward, we took her to see the new movie Brave, which was really great and, for me, particularly poignant because it is a mother-daughter tale.
It's been a little difficult adjusting to each other again, which intellectually, I've come to expect, but emotionally, I'm always unprepared for. One of the hardest parts is that because Adam's perpetual absence has come to make him an enigma to Bryony, he can do no wrong in her eyes. He's fun dad...which means that I have to play the role of bad cop. I'm the task-master and the law-layer. And, since she sees me all the time, I'm not really that interesting. So, she has little to no interest in spending time with me or having me around. More than once this weekend, she told me to "Go away, Mama!" when she was having some one-on-one time with Adam. I tried not to feel hurt. When I'm the one who does the day-to-day heavy lifting, the parenting, the comforting, the decision-making, the caretaking...it's hard not to feel overlooked and unappreciated when all my kid wants is Fun Dad.
Then, two nights ago, something happened. Adam went to bed, and I went to the living room with my book to read awhile before bed. Just before cracking open the pages, I decided to check on Bryony, who we'd put to bed 20 minutes earlier. When I opened the door to her room, it squeaked, causing her to open sleepy eyes and gaze up at me. Suddenly, she broke into a mischievous grin and I started giggling. My mind flashed back suddenly to the times she and I had last summer, when we were living in the hotel because our house had been damaged by rain. We had such good times there, just the two of us, on an adventure. In that moment of giggling and remembering, I realized that I have no reason to feel jealous or unappreciated by her desire to spend time with her dad. Of course she wants him, and she should. I have her all the time, and boy do we have some special times together, making amazing memories. Adam won't have as many of those with her as I do, so I need to let them make those together in the rare times they have with each other. I bent over and kissed her smiling face that night, and then we grinned at each other through the bars of her crib. I told her how very much I loved her, and she gave me her signature smile, and whispered back, "I love you, too, Mama!" My heart did a little dance as I recognized that my role in her life--and in her heart--was exactly where it had always been, and where it should be.
Adam leaves to go back to DC tomorrow morning, and then Bryony's and my lives will return to their new normal. The weekend's difficulties will subside, and our routine, with all that it encompasses, will take hold once more.
The day Adam left, Bryony discovered Superman, as in the 1978 Christopher Reeve version. She, like her mama (and more pointedly, her daddy), has fallen in love. Adam loves superheroes, I love Christopher Reeve, and Bryony loves all the flying bits. In fact, when Adam left that day, Bryony didn't cry when his car pulled away...but she cried when the movie ended.
I have been reading The Time Traveller's Wife. I saw the movie a few years ago and enjoyed it, and was surprised when Adam brought the book home for me a few months ago. Since I knew how the story would end, I found difficulty getting engaged in the book. After a few attempts, however, I was trapped in an uneasy storyline of a man who travels between his current existence, his childhood, his wife's childhood (which I personally had a hard time swallowing, as I felt it borderline pedophilia), and several random places in between. Now, of course, I'm more than halfway through and can't go to sleep at night unless I've read at least a chapter.
Adam came back this weekend for his first visit since he moved. I looked forward to it with such high hopes for me and Bryony since we've both missed him so much. I worked a half day on Thursday, then picked him up from the airport before going to Bryony's school. She was still sleeping when we arrived, so we were invited by her teachers to sit next to her cot until she awoke. All of her little classmates were so excited to have classroom visitors that they crowded around and played with us until she woke up. Adam is really good with the kids and he was in his element, building block towers and answering all their questions. I could only focus on my little girl, sweet and quiet in her blissful sleep. When she woke up and saw us sitting there, she got jealous and angry that her friends had her daddy's attention, as she really wanted him all to herself. We made a point of sectioning ourselves off so she had some dad time. Afterward, we took her to see the new movie Brave, which was really great and, for me, particularly poignant because it is a mother-daughter tale.
It's been a little difficult adjusting to each other again, which intellectually, I've come to expect, but emotionally, I'm always unprepared for. One of the hardest parts is that because Adam's perpetual absence has come to make him an enigma to Bryony, he can do no wrong in her eyes. He's fun dad...which means that I have to play the role of bad cop. I'm the task-master and the law-layer. And, since she sees me all the time, I'm not really that interesting. So, she has little to no interest in spending time with me or having me around. More than once this weekend, she told me to "Go away, Mama!" when she was having some one-on-one time with Adam. I tried not to feel hurt. When I'm the one who does the day-to-day heavy lifting, the parenting, the comforting, the decision-making, the caretaking...it's hard not to feel overlooked and unappreciated when all my kid wants is Fun Dad.
Then, two nights ago, something happened. Adam went to bed, and I went to the living room with my book to read awhile before bed. Just before cracking open the pages, I decided to check on Bryony, who we'd put to bed 20 minutes earlier. When I opened the door to her room, it squeaked, causing her to open sleepy eyes and gaze up at me. Suddenly, she broke into a mischievous grin and I started giggling. My mind flashed back suddenly to the times she and I had last summer, when we were living in the hotel because our house had been damaged by rain. We had such good times there, just the two of us, on an adventure. In that moment of giggling and remembering, I realized that I have no reason to feel jealous or unappreciated by her desire to spend time with her dad. Of course she wants him, and she should. I have her all the time, and boy do we have some special times together, making amazing memories. Adam won't have as many of those with her as I do, so I need to let them make those together in the rare times they have with each other. I bent over and kissed her smiling face that night, and then we grinned at each other through the bars of her crib. I told her how very much I loved her, and she gave me her signature smile, and whispered back, "I love you, too, Mama!" My heart did a little dance as I recognized that my role in her life--and in her heart--was exactly where it had always been, and where it should be.
Adam leaves to go back to DC tomorrow morning, and then Bryony's and my lives will return to their new normal. The weekend's difficulties will subside, and our routine, with all that it encompasses, will take hold once more.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
It's Not Me, It's You
I'm learning, after a long struggle, to not take things so personally. I usually have and still oftentimes do. Things I take personally: bad moods, personality quirks, mistakes, busyness, lack of contact.
Not only have I realized that the things that might create a barrier between me and friend might have nothing to do with something I've said or done, but that assuming I'm the reason is a somewhat narcissistic approach to life. I am often insecure about relationships ("what did I do that they haven't returned my call in over a week?") but also egotistical, too ("it must be me that has caused a rift in this friendship!"). I've started exploring the idea that perhaps I like a little too much drama in my life, so I infuse it where no drama actually exists.
Nine times out of ten, said friend or colleague will explain after the fact that they had had an argument with a spouse, or bad news from a relative, or just a plain old busy week that kept them from getting in touch. Usually, what I detect as a rift isn't even there, and the friend just hasn't had the opportunity to reach out. Strangely enough, it's when I don't actually think that I've done something wrong (or don't detect any weirdness) that a friend actually is upset by something I've said or done. I'm totally off my game. My friendship radar needs some calibrating.
Mostly, though, I just need to chill out.
Not only have I realized that the things that might create a barrier between me and friend might have nothing to do with something I've said or done, but that assuming I'm the reason is a somewhat narcissistic approach to life. I am often insecure about relationships ("what did I do that they haven't returned my call in over a week?") but also egotistical, too ("it must be me that has caused a rift in this friendship!"). I've started exploring the idea that perhaps I like a little too much drama in my life, so I infuse it where no drama actually exists.
Nine times out of ten, said friend or colleague will explain after the fact that they had had an argument with a spouse, or bad news from a relative, or just a plain old busy week that kept them from getting in touch. Usually, what I detect as a rift isn't even there, and the friend just hasn't had the opportunity to reach out. Strangely enough, it's when I don't actually think that I've done something wrong (or don't detect any weirdness) that a friend actually is upset by something I've said or done. I'm totally off my game. My friendship radar needs some calibrating.
Mostly, though, I just need to chill out.
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