Edumacation

For some strange reason I have in the back of my mind that Saturdays are supposed to be a day "off", but it seems that I'm working all just the same. My feet hurt from being up all day and from the amount of laundry, cooking, cleaning and general dude wrangling I did I feel like I didn't do a damn thing all week. Aren't working parents the ones who are supposed to feel like they catch up on all the housework on Saturdays? I do my best to really put Sundays aside as a day of NO HOUSEWORK because otherwise I would never feel like I had a break. I'm not a religious observer so I don't follow suit here in Salt Lake for any similar reason, I just adore the idea of a day of rest. It's so simple and challenging at the same time. But Saturday? Saturday needs some kind of special designation too. Maybe "try something new day" or "create something day", "activism day" or "volunteer day". I have lofty ambitions, I know, but the activism focus does have a strange appeal for me.

I've never considered myself an activist beyond my own social network. I'm the girl who always has the "well did you know" statistic or bit of information that my very conservative family doesn't know and most likely wishes they hadn't heard from me. Nevermind. I'm always open to hear the opposing opinion and new information but they never seem to have anything new to offer unless it was on Dr. Laura or Bill O'Reilly. Both of whom I appreciate for their uncanny ability to flesh out the fat ignorance of America. Yes, I'm saying it. I think Americans are a stupid lot. We like feces in our cheap meat, lead in the paint on our cheap children's toys, and guns in our public schools. We like going bankrupt over medical bills and giving birth under regional anesthesia. In the 2006 Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD)'s international assesment of student performance, PISA, the United States' students barely made a blip on the map. Were we in the top 20 at least? Oh no. The United States repeatedly performed in the bottom third in literacy, science, problem solving and math. We weren't even average. Who were the top countries? Finland, Hong Kong, South Korea, oh and Canada. Finland is an interesting case for me because here is a country where students rarely have more than a half an hour of homework a night, there are no honor societies, children don't start school until age 7, the same curriculum is taught nationwide and college is free. We seem to do so many of the opposite things. Early childhood education gets a lot of lip service here to the point of wealthy parents seeking help from preschool counselors to ensure proper placement to start their budding genius toddlers on the ivy league track. Kindergarteners have homework and competition for college is fierce. I think it's time to look around and learn a thing or two from the world community. We are not an island of immunity. People are unhappy and it is time for change. It's time to get involved.

Learning to Swim

I hate it when people tell me how hard it is to stay home and care for children, as if that makes the struggles I go through any easier or my anger any more manageable. And there's a lot of anger. It's not the seemingly insurmountable stack of crap piled in front of me- my work has no economic value in society; I get little if no outside validation for the work I do; it's tedious and often boring; it's lonely and isolating; there's no clear demarcation between my family and work life so it often feels and is a 24/7 job; I have no financial security through my work; I'm sacrificing a chance to save for retirement or contribute to my social security earnings (if there's any left for my generation)- ok, maybe it is that. No, it's when I start my day with a toddler crying in my ear at 7am that he can't find his pussy cat that he's just let outside for the morning. It's when a girlfriend calls me to vent and my child whines the entire time about wanting to speak and then continues to whine long after she's hung up. It's the ant infestation that has me constantly itching and scratching and finding ants crawling on my shoulders and in my bed. It's the feline who insists on vomiting up his breakfast on my living room floor.

I know I'm experiencing a low point and that I need more breaks blah, blah, blah. But it's not like complaining about any old job. There is a heavy load of guilt dragging behind this anger. Mothering is the first experience in my life where the expectations overwhelm any sense of reason or better judgment I might have. I feel as though I should have this unlimited reserve of love and patience for my son. That I should be able to facilitate his growth and nurture his sense of well being, understand his emotional tantrums and have the appropriate band-aid or encouragement for every imaginable obstacle. I don't have all of these things all the time and it feels as though the only excuse for failing to measure up is a personal one. It all becomes so personal with child raising. Everything is either my fault, my responsibility, or my excellent parenting. There is so little grey in a raging emotional sea of reds, and yellows, and blacks.




Remove myself, my heart whispers. Understand your child's autonomy as an individual human being new in the world who is in desperate need of a guide and translator. I'm there, I whisper back, I see it. Yes, we're separate. The wetness of emotions begins to dry a little in the breeze and I breathe in fresh air. I turn and see him sitting quietly, transfixed even and I realize that it is this quiet that allows me to breathe for a moment and feel again the love and gratitude that overwhelms on a daily basis my heart for this little curly haired lion of a boy. And then I remember that his quiet attention is held by Baby Bear and Elmo on Sesame Street and that in a desperate attempt for a moment of peace I plopped my toddler in front of the idiot box. Great job mom. The guilt creeps up again.

Life is a Bucket of Cherries

The weather here is finally starting to heat up and that means my pregnant mass of a self is suffering a little bit more but more importantly that our cherry tree is putting on a sexy show for us.

When we bought the place last summer and discovered we were blessed and cursed with 2 apple, an apricot and a cherry tree we asked around the neighborhood to see what kind of state the fruit trees were in. A close neighbor with a cherry said theirs was completely infested with worms, to the point of being inedible and that we'd have to spray heavily if we wanted to use them. We're huge fans of spraying poison in our backyard on a regular basis so we thought we'd take the wait and see approach. The tree blossomed beautifully and the cherries are big, red, and shinny. Not a worm in sight. The robins are enjoying dessert on the really ripe ones but believe me, there are plenty to go around. So here is a pic of my first attempt at a home grown, lattice cherry pie. Eat your heart out Martha Stewart!

You bet your sweet ass!

Ta Da! Here I am in the great wide world of blogging with of course, no major objectives or proposed goals. Befitting I think for a girl like me. But before I go any further I would like to pay small homage to comedian Demetri Martin for inspiring the moniker for this blog. He makes me laugh until I squeal with pain and that, is something I love.