Thursday, October 15, 2009

On second thought, the $8 mascara is not so bad and other things I like about budgeting.


Really, the biggest thing I like about living more frugally than usual is watching the balance in our savings account rise. Also, clipping coupons from the Sunday paper is kind of fun. And, I got really excited when Whole Foods had a BOGO sale on Pirate's Booty last weekend. Otherwise? My shopping fingers are itchy. We might do our Hanukkah shopping on Friday night just to buy SOMETHING. And, yeah. We're like 10 days into a money makeover and planning a shopping spree, which, we know, is like rewarding weight loss with a bacon double cheeseburger.

On a whiny note, this rainy weather is screwing with ballet flat season. Fall is my only possible cute shoe season, as I spend summer in sandals, winter in Uggs and spring in galoshes. Mom hag.

Monday, October 12, 2009

Falling into winter. Next thing you know, I'll break out the Uggs.

As I type this, Harry and Jack are enjoying what started off as a healthy breakfast-- oranges, oatmeal, eggs, milk-- but became an unabashed sugar fest with addition of chocolate chip cookies that jack helped me make last night. He was so proud of them and so excited to share them with Harry (who missed baking night because he and Ben went out for ice cream. In the cold. Because they are crazy.) that I couldn't resist. MOTY.

Hard to believe that this little guy is 18 months old. Full on toddler. Because he is the second child and I am a little more lax with deadlines, I missed the enrollment date for the 18 month preschool class at Harry's school (that meets for 2 hours once a week-- rigorous academic curriculum, I'm sure), so we'll have to wait until January for Jack's formal education to begin. Which means more Big! Red! Mat! fun for me in the meantime.

And Harry. Despite school and big boy pants and David Cassidy hair, he's still a baby, too.

And now I am passing the cookies out like they're (I don't know-- what's something you pass out? Candy?) so I can keep typing this, even though I have nothing of consequence to say.

Um, it is so cold here. Like 30-40 and rainy/snowy. And this is the first time in their lives that H&J have normal-weight Halloween costumes. They've always sweated their faces off in those super puffy stuffed costumes, but this year, as Buzz and Woody, they're going to need coats or snowsuits over the top.

Love the slide static. Especially with Harry's mop. Which? Okay. Needs a trim. I know.

Winter hats and puffy coats in October? Blech.

Jack's not a big fan either.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Dude! You Guys! It was ROSEOLA!




When Harry broke out in a rash all over his trunk this morning, Ben and I high fived each other and screamed, "That wasn't swine flu after all!!" We weren't sure if he had roseola or strep, but we figured it was a win-win, really. The nurse at our pediatrician's office swabbed Harry for strep, but our doctor (who luckily had Sunday hours this morning) didn't even want us to wait for the results. He took one look at Harry's spotty tummy and back and said the r-word, and we were ecstatic.

On Thursday when Ben took the kids to the doctor's office, Harry gasped when the garage door opened. "How long has it been raining?" he asked. "Oh my! The leaves are turning colors! How beautiful!"

"How long has it been since you went outside?" Ben asked. He decided right then that as long as Harry was fever-free when he woke up on Saturday, they would go to the nature class they've been signed up for, if only so Harry wouldn't forget what color the sky was.

Harry was excited and very bundled

He cavorted merrily through the park



collecting sticks and leaves in a foil pan.

Then he adjourned to the community room and taped the hell out of them



We put his 2 giant collages on his downstairs art bulletin board and now every time we enter or leave the house, we have to "Touch the soft wood. Touch it. No really you guys, TOUCH THE SOFT WOOD. IT IS SOFT. TOUCH IT!!"

So, yes. He is fine. Jack is still crabby and running a low grade fever. He also has a rash on his face and just looks so generally shitty that the doctor actually started examining him, assuming that he was the sick one. Once he realized his mistake, he peeked down Jack's throat and in his ears but found nothing. Jack, though, was happy to be checked out and said "ahhhh" without being asked.

Tonight before bed, Ben noticed that Jack is getting 4 more teeth. The poor kid. His whole life teething has been rough, and he always gets his teeth in 4s.

Jack slept poorly Friday night, and Ben brought him in our room and then ditched me (because I was suffering from phantom flu symptoms that have since disappeared with H's new diagnosis, and Ben assumed that Jack and I were both sick and he should act to save himself). Jack was a very snuggly and aggressive bedfellow, but as I tucked him into his crib on Saturday, I told him if he felt yucky and wanted to sleep with mommy, he should cry or make some noise and we'd come get him right away.

Ben, Harry, and I popped some popcorn, grabbed a blanket, and settled down on the couch to watch Monster vs. Aliens. About 10 minutes in to the movie, Jack started crying, and we ignored him for a little bit, but we felt bad for letting a sick kid cry, so Ben went up and laid with him until he fell asleep, then he transferred Jack into his crib where he woke up and screamed indignantly. We watched the movie with sad Jack in the background for another coupe of minutes until I hit my forehead and yelled, "Duh I said he could sleep with me! He wants to sleep with me!"

Indeed he did. He wrapped his little arms around my neck and pressed his face next to mine. I went to bed at 8:15 last night, and I brought Jack downstairs to Ben at 6:15, and I swear to you I only slept about 3 of those 10 hours. The rest of the time I was head butted, jabbed, kicked into a teeny sliver of the bed, and screamed at-- Jack yells and flips around in his sleep; it's very unsettling. I don't know how Harry puts up with him.

At one point I woke up after a particularly forceful collision of his head and my lip-- I actually bled a little-- and looked at him lying flat on his back on my pillow, his arms and legs akimbo, his mouth wide open, his hair curling up over his ears, and I was suddenly not uncomfortable, exhausted, or exasperated. I was just grateful for our night together.

Note: When your menu contains both tuna fish sandwiches and frozen pizza and when under the heading "Friday" you have written "Who cares? It's only Sunday," your menu is not worth sharing.

Friday, October 09, 2009

Swine Flu: Volume I

I feel like this is going to be a multi-volumed essay by the time it's done because while Harry's flu has passed (thank goodness), Jack fell tonight, and Ben and I are just sitting here, horrified and waiting for the other shoe to drop. And then what the hell are we going to do? Who's going to take care of these damn kids? And am I ever going to get to go to work again?

I stayed home Monday because I was feeling terrible myself (so maybe I already had it? although I don't think so because what Harry and Jack had is like 400 times worse than what I had last weekend, and the pediatrician said if Ben and I get the piggy flu, it will be waaaaaaaaay worse for us than it was for the kids). Harry was sick that day, too (he actually spiked a fever Sunday night before just before bedtime), and we just sort of sat around in our jammies all day. (yeah, I know the date on the post is Tuesday, but these are Monday pics). On Tuesday, I was fever free, so Ben and I split the day with the kids, so I could teach my class.

This is Tuesday morning. I came home from the gym to find everybody in fairly good spirits

A little temperature check revealed that Tylenol was doing a good job of keeping Harry's fever at bay, and Jack was a cool 98.6.

That morning Harry was grumpy, but I kept alternating Tylenol and Motrin which seemed to make him feel better. He took a nap

and woke up with some awesome hair feeling well enough to eat some cookies.

Jack was delightful but not as hungry as usual

After dinner, Harry said he wanted to work out, so we let the kids do the BIggest Loser DVD while we cleaned up


I stayed home all day Wednesday, and while my sweet potato and chicken stew was fantastic, my little Harry bear started to feel really terrible. His fever had been rising to the 102-ish range when his meds wore off since Monday, but by Wednesday night , he was refusing Motrin and Tylenol; his fever was scary high, and he was a mess. So we took this picture and posted it on Facebook:

Wednesday night was awful mainly because Ben and I are both stupid and combative when the kids wake us up and also because Harry made himself vomit to avoid his meds and then Ben retreated to the couch and shivering, feverish Harry woke me up every six or eight seconds for the rest of the night. At 5:15 Ben thought he heard me calling for him, so he bolted upstairs and flung open the bedroom door to see me and Harry sleeping. Unfortunately, all the bolting and flinging woke up Jack, so he and Ben snuggled on the couch and got a head start on the day.

Thursday we spilt kid duties again, and Harry was a disaster. He absolutely refused to take ANYTHING and had a fever of 102.5. I made him stay in bed, but he really wanted to play

So he'd get up to play and just COLLAPSE. It was the saddest thing ever.

At some point it occurred to us that we should maybe call the doctor, so we did. Our nurse talked to us on the phone and told Ben to bring him in because his fever had been so high for so long. The pediatrician was like all bad news. He was worried because Harry's skin was so mottled. He said 99.9 percent of the flu cases they've seen lately are H1N1, so he didn't swab Harry but said he thought it was the piggy flu. He also told us that we were totally screwed and would get it way worse than Harry and that Jack was also doomed. At the end of the visit, Ben mentioned that we'd be back in a couple weeks for Jack's well baby visit, and the doctor laughed and was all "I bet I see you sooner than that." Rock on.

Today, Harry woke up fever free, and he's been that way all day.
Jack started out strong, but here he was in the late afternoon:

He projectile vomited all over the dinner table (Fab. U. Lous.) and went to be at 6:00 with a 101 fever.
As I type this? I have chills and a fever of my own. Ben just left for the store to stock up on things like Lunchables that we can just toss in the general direction of the children from our beds.
I'll keep you posted.

Wednesday, October 07, 2009

SAHMS, WOHMS, SAHDS, and WOHDS

In the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, mothering practice provided women an alternate route to citizenship. Although they could not own property or vote, women could and did care for children in their homes. Mothering practice/theory/rhetoric was bound up in the ideology of republican motherhood. Women (white, wealthy women, anyway) became citizens by proxy when they raised their sons and daughters, future citizens and future nurturers of citizens. During the time of the American Revolution and the years following it, mothering gradually became a more respectable practice, one that was eventually seen as needing education and training. Mothers, thought to be morally superior by nature, were responsible for teaching their children right from wrong and for creating democrats who would vote, own land, and hold public office. Republican motherhood argued that while women could never be citizens, they could enact citizenship through the distinctly female practice of mothering.

By the twentieth century, notions of republican motherhood, moral motherhood, and the Victorian motherhood ideal were supplanted by an ideology of scientific mothering. This makes sense in an era of Progressive activism, including Progressive maternal activism that was responsible for increased maternal and child health measures, the formation of the welfare state, and the birth control movement. Scientific mothering also came about during the aftermath of the professionalism of the medical industry and in a time when germ theory was gaining popularity, and obstetricians were making headway at replacing midwives and helpful neighbors as women's healthcare providers. As it progressed through the middle of the twentieth century, scientific mothering agreed with many of the principles of republican motherhood, namely that women were the chief nurturers of children, naturally suited for this kind of morally superior role. To this ideology, scientific mothering added the notion that women needed to consult experts-- specifically medical men-- for additional guidance. In this era, infant feeding practices changed dramatically, as women were advised to feed babies on a strict schedule and to use formula, which was thought to be superior to breast milk because it was developed scientifically in a lab. Like republican motherhood before it, scientific motherhood offered women a path to citizenship through mothering. Immigrant women, for example, and poor women had an opportunity to achieve whiteness and upward mobility; if they could parent like the white, middle-class ideal, they could create children who could "pass" as white and rich. Legions of public health nurses were deployed into rural and urban communities to teach poor, nonwhite mothers correct mothering practices, and mothering remained a very labor intensive process. Interestingly, many mothers of small children entered the paid workforce during World War II, and day nurseries sprang up in cities across the country to help care for the children of war workers. When soldiers returned home, mothers traded factory gloves for apron strings and assumed the work of raising children in their homes once again.

By the end of the Baby Boom, notions of scientific mothering were overtaken by the ideology of intensive mothering, which is the worldview sociologists claim still governs mothering theory/practice/rhetoric in America. This ideology says that correct parenting practices are time intensive and expensive, that the work of child rearing should be performed in the home, by one parent-- preferably the mother, and that the work of parenting is hands on; childcare providers are expected to be "on the floor" playing with children in a way that earlier generations of mothers were never expected to be. This ideology is a good one to illustrate how theory and policy are closely linked. If a society subscribes to this ideology, it make sense why that same society would NOT value daycare programs, right? Because daycare centers are NOT "supposed" to be taking care of children; mothers are. It is also easy to see how infant feeding practices changed under this ideology. Because women were no longer completely subservient to the wonder of science, the notion of "breast is best" (which fits nicely under all of the tenets of intensive mothering) replaced notions that scientifically created formula was the best food for a baby.

I think social critics lack the required critical distance to declare this ideology passe and label the one that has supplanted it, but I do think a Thomas Kuhnian paradigm shift is underway and that parenting practices/theories/rhetorics are starting to look different than they ever have before. I also think there is some serious mediated backlash against the "right" women forsaking stay at home motherhood to enter the workforce, as evidenced by the "opting out" discussion in the Washington Post article I linked to in my last post. It is no coincidence that the SAHM we discuss the most is the stay-at-home mom who has chosen-- all options being equal-- to leave the workforce and care for her children in her home. This ideal woman (who is real, too, of course-- most of the SAHMS I know personally are this woman, actually) is NOT the most typical SAHM, however, according to statistical census data. The woman most likely to be home with her kids is young, nonwhite, poorer than average, and less educated than average. This woman bears more resemblance to the Reagan-created Welfare Queen than she does to the Diane Keaton in Baby Boom kind of SAHM who graces the covers of ladies magazines.

Moms don't stay home as often as they used to (and they haven't, according to statistical data, since 1964), and Dads do waaaaaaay more kid and housework than they ever have before. Ideologies of mothering are becoming, at the very least, ideologies of parenting. There are lots of sociologists who study the work of parenting and always call it mothering. They reason that because this work has been women's work for centuries and continues to fall unequally on the shoulders of women, even those employed outside the home, the work of parenting should be called the work of mothering to recognize this contribution. I disagree, and so do many historians who are working to locate dads in histories of childbirth and work out where prospective fathers stand in birth control's troubled past, two areas of scholarship that have focused almost exclusively on women's lives. Say what you will about the ivory tower, I think the scholars are ahead of mainstream culture on this one. Just as women have joined the workforce in record numbers in the last 40-ish years, so, too, have men taken delight in discovering a nurturing family role. "Dad works and mom stays home" isn't the norm for most families, but it is still the arrangement held aloft in popular culture as the norm, as the ideal. Even though millions of families deviate from this norm-- even families that have one parent at home and one parent at work, as the Washington Post article points out, don't look like the ideal SAHM/WOHD-- moms who work or dads who stay home always already feel like they've failed.

You think I don't feel like an asshole because I like to work? I am someone who has an extremely flexible job and can be home with my kids whenever I want to be and a husband who does at least half the work and also has job flexibility so that we can cover for each other when the kids are sick or work is tough, and I question my choice to work all the time because I feel so judged by every magazine article or preschool drop off time or Little Gym class schedule that assumes I stay home. But I do drop my child off and pick him up from school (except on the days my husband does pick up); I do take my toddler to daytime Little Gym, and I do sit on my ass on the couch while my children nap reading a ladies magazine and joining with it in judging daycare moms who use their centers or sitters 10 hours a day (but not daycare dads. why not daycare dads?) I can't even justify my decision to work using an economic argument. We don't need me to work. I want to. Because I'm an asshole. Don't I love my children enough to be the one who changes their diapers 85% of the time? Don't I want to kiss every scraped knee and play every round of CandyLand? And what the hell is wrong with me, exactly, if I maybe don't? I choose to work in the most optimum sense of the verb. Don't I love my kids as much as a SAHM loves her kids? As much as a working mom who HAS to work to pay the mortgage loves hers?

I use my own example to illustrate this point: Too often we reduce talk about SAHMS and WOHMS to the following platitude: everyone makes the choice that is best for his/her own family.

To that I say bullshit.

Sure, I am making the choice that I believe works for my family, but I won't call it the best because I hope my above summary of mothering ideology through history convinced you that "best" is a meaningless term. "Best" is historically contingent and usually racist, classist, and sexist if you get right down to it. I am happy with my choice (pretty much), but I also know that I am making this choice from the best possible position with the most possible options (and I have many SAHM friends who selected from a full buffet of choices, as well). Most women (in this economy especially) don't choose from a place of privilege. Some women stay home (often with government assistance) because they simply don't make enough money to pay a babysitter. Some women go to work because they need a second income-- not for niceties or vacations, but to pay the bills. Lots of families make childcare decisions based on money and only money, and more children than we care to think about spend their days in unsafe, unfriendly environments, and we can turn our collective cheeks or look down our collective noses because clearly their mothers didn't get the memo about what's best for baby, right?

Why does this happen? Because of the Mommy Wars? Because families don't always choose what's best? Because some women are selfish? Because all women don't support each other's choices?

No.

Because our society doesn't support families, real fathers and real mothers who work inside the house and outside of it, who juggle private concerns in public spaces, and who work together to bring up the next generation of citizens. We tell our kids they can be anything they want to be, and we parent them like we mean it, but deep down, we know the practical limits of potential, the ways class and race and gender craft both our choices and our access to choosing in the first place.

Parenting in the twenty-first century. What will the historians say about us?

Tuesday, October 06, 2009

Siiiick

Siiiiiiiiiiiick. We're siiiiiiiiick.

with mall bangs

Actually, we've had a pleasant week despite fever and chills and a little puke and horrible work stress from both me and Ben as we scramble to flex our hours and meet essential deadlines and swab the deck at home.

I've realized a few things this week. Like that we have a serious Build a Bear problem.

and that next semester, I need to make sure I have at least one full day a week at home with them because I have really missed it these past 6 weeks.

So, I have a more serious post I have been dying to write, but Ben spelled me with the kids at noon yesterday so I could run to the office and catch up on all manner of details before my class in the afternoon, and I knew he would KILL me if a ginormous blog post popped up during that time because he is really crunched at StudyBlue right now because it;s midterm season and students are just starting to study.

I want to write about mothering in the twenty first century, and have a fantastic and vibrant discussion in the comments, but before I do, please read this Washington Post article
and also this excellent post and its thoughtful comments.

(ha! I just told you what to read for discussion! can you tell the semester has started? ha!)

Sunday, October 04, 2009

Menu Sunday and a note about laundry. Now with stew recipe!

Sunday
Pizza

Monday
White chicken chili in the crock pot
Corn bread
Cooked carrots

Tuesday
Grille chicken salads
Baked potatoes
Green vegetable TBA

Wednesday
Chicken and sweet potato stew in the crock pot
** RECIPE**
4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cubed (we used lemon garlic ones b/c our butcher was running a sale on marinated chicken)
2 medium sweet potatoes, peeled and cubed
2 medium Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and cubed (we used a harvest medley from TJ's of squash, yams, and turnips instead)
2 Medium carrots, peeled and sliced
1 can (28 oz) whole stewed tomatoes
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper
1/4 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1 tsp paprika
1 tsp celery seed
1 cup nonfat chicken broth
1/4 c chopped fresh basil
Throw everything but the basil in the crock pot and cook for 6-8 hours on low or 3-4 hours on high; sprinkle basil on top right before serving

Apple spice bread
Green vegetable TBA

Thursday
Pork chops
Corn
Green vegetable TBA

Friday
TJ's frozen Mexican
Chips and veggies and salsa

I don't know why I was so angsty about laundry in this post. Doing laundry everyday really works for us. We enter the house through the garage, and the laundry room is the room off the garage (where we also cram our crawls pace with crap and make everybody leave their shoes), so it's easy to throw laundry in and change it over as we enter and leave the house. And we only spend 15 minutes a day folding it and putting it away. I really can't imagine only doing it once a week-- we'd have like 10 loads. Same with the bathrooms and other maintenance-- doing it a lot makes cleaning a cinch. I'm just tired, I guess, and a little crabby.

What are you eating this fall? Any warm comfort food recipes to share?

Oh! And Jack looooves to wear Harry's underpants outside his clothes.