I left my garbage can at the curb a little longer than I should have after this week’s collection. When I picked it up a day late I found it half full of Barbies.
I have no idea who put them there, but I am sure that somewhere on this base there is a very sad little girl. A very sad little girl who was a pretty spoiled little girl, from what I can gather, because I had to haul about half of what was in our trash can out of the trash can so there would be room for our actual trash. In the third that I managed to take out of there before the smell of rotting remnants of food drove me gagging from dumpster diving, I grabbed twenty-eight Barbies, mostly naked. There were at least twice that amount left, but I gave up rescuing them because of the stench.
Jonas, of course, thought it was Christmas. He had just gotten out of his bath and while I had the can tipped on it’s side so I could reach stuff, he crawled in butt naked and started grabbing everything he saw. I let him have one Barbie scantily clad in roller blades on her feet and nothing else and sent him indoors. Since then he has pulled over the trash three times because he knows there are toys inside.
I have added the rescued dolls to my growing rummage sale pile, where they will be sold for a song, unless the sad little nudist girl whose parents tossed her Barbies comes to claim them.
Posted by Lou on July 30, 2005 @ 12:22 am | 13 Comments
I took some time to go peruse the offerings at our local bookstore today. As I walked past a young Asian man sitting in an overstuffed chair he caught my eye and smiled. I smiled back (because I’m a nice person) and watched his eyes light up and the wheels start turning. I was instant bait. This isn’t a situation I’ve been in in awhile, given the fact that I’ve been pregnant recently and I’m usually shopping with two little kids. I’m a reasonably attractive woman, but there is no turn off like a toddler and a bulging belly.
I hurried into a remote corner of the children’s section to get away. While checking out the bargain books I came to the sudden realization that he was about three feet away and blocking the exit. He opened his mouth to speak, and his phone rang, giving me opportunity to flee, once again.
I headed over to the journals and scrapbooking paraphernalia and hid myself behind the greeting cards. This was my brief moment of alone time and I didn’t want it ruined by some hopeful dude out looking for Miss Right. After a safe amount of time had passed, I walked over to the section of summer reading I was originally looking at. Within seconds he was back like a hungry puppy after a steak. I tried to ignore him, but he was trying very hard to catch my eye so he could say something. At that point I resorted to the Left Hand Dance. Its’ the one where you adjust your hair with the left hand, caress the cheap summer romance novels with your left hand, even pick your nose with your left hand just to wave the glittering rock on your ring finger in the guy’s face, praying he’ll see you’re taken and move on.
After doing this through two tables of books he finally spoke, “How are you doing?” I had to try not to laugh. The guy had been stalking me for twenty minutes and in all that time the best opening line he could come up with was “How are you doing?” This is not a productive opener. This leaves your prey the chance to respond with the classic shut-down “Fine.” Which I did. Something better would be, “Oh, do you like origami? Do you teach/have a preschooler? Is that why you’re looking at preschool readiness and origami design books?” I mean, really, pick something to say with substance, something that is going to require more than a monosyllable reply. Find a common interest. I’m in a bookstore, for heaven’s sake- the place is full of topics to choose from and the one in my hand is your best bet. But, no. How are you doing. Please.
He then asked me if I was looking for anything in particular (Umm, do you work here? Are you trying to sound like a salesclerk?) I told him I was just browsing and then quickly browsed away. He looked like he was going to follow so I gave up and walked to my car checking over my shoulder all the way home.
I used to have stuff like this happen to me a lot. When I was single, it wasn’t that big of a deal, but when it happens after you get married it just feels weird. I’m flattered, but seriously, leave me the heck a lone and take a hint mm-kay?
One summer when Chris and I were newlyweds we worked from eight to five for the City of Santa Clara, then we would drive halfway home to San Mateo where Chris worked at a store in the mall to earn a little more money for when we went back to college. I didn’t have a second job, or a ride home, so I usually spent three hours wandering the mall or reading in the bookstore across the street. I got hit on A LOT. And it got old explaining that, yes, the ring on my finger does actually mean I’m married, and no, I’m not kidding. It got to be where I couldn’t read without some guy interrupting me looking to hook up. Many of these guys were normal and once I said , “Thanks, but I’m married,” they would go their way without event. But of course you have to have the losers who buy me a drink even after I tell them I’m married, or the pathetic excuse for a guy who upon hearing that I was married asked, “Are you happily married?” My instant thought was, “even if I weren’t I wouldn’t crawl in the sack with you, you bastard.” Fortunately, the withering stare of shock and disgust I effortlessly shot him was enough to make him just get up and walk away.
At this point, I knew I had to do something to make myself completely unattractive to the opposite sex. So I began each visit to the bookstore with a quick trip to the pregnancy section. I’d pick up What to Expect When You’re Expecting and a copy of Fit Pregnancy then hide whatever I was really reading inside one of those. It had a ninety percent success rate in getting single guys to leave me alone. Once I saw a young man check me out from across the reading section. He started to walk my way, so I raised what I was reading to cover half of my face, knowing that there was no way he could miss the word PREGNANCY screaming in his direction from the cover of the magazine. He took three steps, read the title of what I was reading, stopped dead in his tracks and walked the opposite direction. Now that is what I call effective.
To the guys out there who have to put up with this stuff, I’m sorry. But, please, save yourself some time and check the ring finger. You never know. And if she is married, don’t keep hitting on her. That only proves you’re scum.
Posted by Lou on July 27, 2005 @ 9:50 pm | 16 Comments
I was told recently that in having my primary focus on my children I was doing feminism a disservice. I think that statement was made in ignorance. I don’t believe that the person who said it to me was a true feminist. I believe that she was more focused on defending her own choices, and less interested in what was truly good for the women of our world.
Feminism, at its most simple point, is meant to empower and liberate a woman so that she has the power to chose what she wants to do with her life. To say that a woman ought not to focus on motherhood because she should be in the work place taking advantage of the rights gained for women there doesn’t do much to liberate a woman. It simply forces her to fit a new societal mold. If a woman feels most fulfilled in the workplace, then I believe she ought to be there and have access to the same privileges and rights that any man has access to. But if a woman feels that her life would be more fulfilled as a mother or wife, then I think she should have the right to choose that course. After all, isn’t motherhood one of the most feminine gifts of life? No man can be a mother.
I am saddened that in the pursuit of equal treatment so many women have to feel badly for choosing a more traditional role. Just because a woman is capable of being Rosie the Riveter doesn’t mean she should have to, or want to. Women do each other a huge disservice when they demean one another’s choices and force each other into roles that they do not wish to play.
In my life, I have met more opposition from women against the choice to focus on motherhood than I have from men. I have found most men to be supportive of a woman’s choice stay in the home or enter the workplace, especially in a marital relationship where the decision of who will work inside and outside of the home becomes a family issue. It is disgusting that there are women who choose to tear down other women for their choices to remain in the home or enter the workplace. Feminism has become a corrupt means to further whatever position a woman takes in her own life, and is usually to the detriment of her fellow woman. That is not what feminism ought to be. That is selfishness. There is nothing empowering in selfishness.
Posted by Lou on July 26, 2005 @ 3:04 pm | 24 Comments
Let it be known that I am much more articulate in print than I am in person. Especially when I am upset. I am much like Pacha’s wife Chicha in The Emperor’s New Groove. When she gets mad she snorts and fumes and yells a few incomplete thoughts then finally decides to go clean something to burn off the steam. You can tell she’s mad, but as far as effective communicating goes. . . well, not so much.
We have been trying, quite unsuccessfully, to access the resources available on base and in our community for exceptional children. We’ve been trying for almost a year (when I say we I mean I). I have made countless phone calls and each time I have been lucky enough to make human contact I have been sent to someone else. I am quite sure that two thirds of the people I have spoken with (or listened to their charming, “I’m so busy that I don’t feel like doing my job and helping you so suck it” phone messages) could be sacked and replaced with a flow chart of who to call next and they would never be missed.
I am to the point now where I am automatically mad at anyone who I do manage to contact because I am sure they are just going to pass me on to the next guy or not return my phone calls. Like a jilted lover, I scorn before I have the chance to get hurt again. It’s not productive.
In a fit of anger about two weeks ago I told Chris it was his turn to deal with the bureaucracy because no one ever listens to me because I lack the uniform that makes me considered Someone To Be Feared And Obeyed. Seeing that I meant it, he got on the job.
Yesterday he had a meeting with his commander and first shirt to discuss how some stuff was going. Our biggest goal right now is to get moved into a house with a fenced in back yard because then when Jonas escapes the house he would still be enclosed in a safe place instead of running into the street after crows.
The commander said that the Family Support Center people had been a little put out when I declined some of the help they offered me. Since I have been nursing a year’s worth of anger and frustration I sat down to write a letter to explain what was going on and what we needed. I tried very, very hard not to just write “EVERYONE I’VE TALKED TO HAS BEEN COMPLETELY USELESS” twelve million times. I tried very hard to write a letter that effectively communicated our family’s needs. When I asked Chris what he thought he said that it was mostly good, but I was a bit argumentative at points. I had my mother read it and she thought I expressed myself well without being mean or ridiculous. So I had Chris take it to his first shirt.
Ten minutes after Chris walked out of the door the first shirt and the commander had me on speaker phone and were expressing that they were here to help, they saw how frustrated I have been and that they were going to cut through the red tape and knock down the doors to get my son the house he needs. (Really, truly, I’m not kidding here). I admit I was a bit shocked. Considering that everyone else I have spoken with has sworn to call me back and then forgotten, it’s understandable. They then told me to make a list of the other areas we were hoping to help Jonas in and they would get the ball rolling there too. I think my brain shut off at the sound of people who were actually going to help me. . .I’m not sure what I said after that I was so surprised.
At any rate, we are getting help. People with actual power are going to make stuff happen that we really can’t make happen without them. I’m grateful. Now I can’t wait to see what happens.
Posted by Lou on July 23, 2005 @ 12:19 am | 7 Comments
I have reached parenting nirvana. Jonas is, for the most part, finished potty learning. It was a long, frustrating road and many times I thought I was going to be changing his poopy diapers well into grade school. For a child who started out so resistant to the idea, the end actually came about quite easily. Potty learning, for Jonas, all relied on one simple principle: Everyone has a price, and once you learn it, they can be bought. Yes, Internet, I bribed him. And it worked.
About two months ago we were locked in a power struggle over poop. I wanted it in the porcelain bowl, he wanted it in his diaper. He refused to even admit that he was having a bowel movement, even when he was obviously straining and making what we call, “The Poop Face”. Each time I would catch him making The Poop Face, I’d haul his butt to the toilet and make him finish there, explaining that poop goes in the toilet. Each time, he would kick and yell and be quite unpleasant about the whole business.
One day we went to the mall where Jonas saw the Disney Store. He wanted everything and I said no in the interest of financial preservation. Upon arriving home and fighting the potty battle, I realized that I had gained a bargaining chip. I told Jonas very clearly and many times that if he pooped in the potty we would run to the Disney Store and he could pick out a toy. After about two days of this he was standing in the dining room when he suddenly yelled, “Pooooot!” and ran for the toilet, where he did, indeed, deposit poot. I immediately threw the kids in the car and went to the store where Jonas got a toy and some new big boy Incredibles underwear.
It was a breakthrough. I knew he was capable of getting himself to the potty, and that he understood a bribe. Within a few weeks I was finished dealing with poop. He reached the point where it felt gross to him to go in his diaper, and now tells his baby sister, “Don’t poot!” every time I change her diaper.
Peeing proved to be a bigger challenge. That, it seemed, could happen anywhere and he just didn’t care. We kept putting him on the toilet and he would usually go, but there was never any drive to get himself there. We were finding puddles everywhere. Once he even peed on Chris while riding on his shoulders. Finally, I had the good sense to revert back to bribery.
Jonas has gotten into the Rescue Heroes phase after being given a few action figures for his birthday, so one day I told him that if he stayed dry all day we would go to the store and he could get a new Rescue Hero. I made sure that I helped him with this goal by taking him to the bathroom a lot. I wanted him to do it in the first try so he knew he could. That night at eight o’clock, right before bed, we ran over to the BX and bought a new guy. Jonas was elated. The next day he stayed dry again and asked to go to the store for a new Rescue Hero. I made him a deal that if he stayed dry three days he could get another one. He met the challenge, and in those three days went from me forcing him onto the potty to him whipping off his diaper and peeing there on his own. We are having very, very few accidents and Jonas is quite proud of himself.
I’m quite proud of him too. When you think about it, it is rather remarkable that we go from being totally unable to control our bowels to being able to control them in our sleep. Learning the different sensations and gaining the ability to ‘hold it’ is a pretty neat thing.
Posted by Lou on July 20, 2005 @ 3:40 pm | 17 Comments
Obviously, I would hate to spoil it for the rest of the world- but seriously- WHOA. This one leaves you in shock at the end and begging for the last book. That’s all I’m gonna say.
Posted by Lou on July 17, 2005 @ 6:05 am | 8 Comments
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