Yes, perhaps a rebellious mythical creature who, in a turbulent mixture of adolescence, infatuation and authoritarian repression (repression by her father), sacrifices her most prized ability in order to achieve an extremely painful physical transformation (to get away from her father) at the hands of a notorious sociopath, then wordlessly abandons everything she knows (her father), could be called a "Daddy's Little Sweetheart."
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Sunday, May 22, 2011
I've never read the Left Behind series (I will NOT link to it; sorry but I draw the line there) but last week I thought a lot about the end of the world. I thought about the people that sacrifice everything in anticipation of the belief that the world will end. I considered the religions that don't believe in the inevitability of a particular rapture day. I thought of the Biblical translations that lead us into different directions; e.g. translation words to "raptured," "carried up," "carried off," "snatched up." I wondered, if the world ended, how would it end? How would we know?
Monday, May 16, 2011
Monday, May 9, 2011
Saturday, May 7, 2011
"You better write your thank you notes before you forget."
"Stop touching your face."
"Everything tastes better at the beach."
"NO WIRE HANGERS!" (Kidding about that one.)
"Push your sleeves up."
"Women mourn. Men replace."
"Always be prepared to be outraged."
"Did you write your thank you notes yet?"
"Of course I took your dad's last name. I only married him because I couldn't find a 'Smith.'"
"Stop playing with your hair. Teenagers play with their hair."
"When planning anything, guests are always the most important thing to consider."
"I never sign anything I don't have to sign."
"You just have a different relationship with your body after you have a kid. You kind of don't care anymore."
"Babies look best in white."
"Shit happens, and we try to make the best of it, and also to appreciate all the good fortune that we have."
"Okay. Sit down right now and write your thank you notes already. And stop playing with your hair."
My mother has been a very strong presence in my life, and she has given me a lot of good advice over the past 30 years. I think I have heeded most of it, forgotten more than I would like to admit, ignored some, and pretty much internalized the rest.
We have very different personalities but we have grown closer as I have learned to navigate the adult world. Lately, I have been leaning on her advice heavily, as my life has included first-time-home-buying and childbearing/rearing, as well as such critical issues as finding attractive post-maternity work clothes that are, depressingly, 4 sizes bigger than the size in which I started my "maternity." Because I now have a baby, I feel closer to my mother than ever, and I think I understand the mechanics behind our relationship a little better.
There is also, obviously, a more difficult side. Babies are demanding. Their needs don't go away when you are sick, sleep-deprived, in a bad mood, or alone while the other parent is traveling. Babies do indescribably disgusting things in which you sometimes have to involve yourself. I guess people don't talk about that side a lot because if they did no one would have babies ever again. (Those who do talk about the gross stuff usually end up here.) The bright side of the dark side is that I have in my mother a caring, understanding, knowledgeable resource who does not hesitate to do whatever she can to ease the pain.
Through all the work and sick and ick and tears, I believe something always compels you, as the parent, to do everything you can to make sure your little one feels safe and happy and loved no matter what is going on. It's not just the sense of adult responsibility. It's a powerful, visceral parenting feeling that must be a product of millions of years of evolution. It's hard to put into words, but the best way I can describe it is, "Nurture this thing, it has a part of me in it."
And I'm only six months into this gig. My mother's got 30 years on me. I guess that compelling "something" never really goes away, maybe even intensifies with time. That could explain, in part, why we've grown closer. Her reaction to me trying to buy a house is probably like mine to seeing my daughter's first smile: that surprise sunrise, a strange and momentous first. But after the initial gasp, the feeling kicks in: "nurture this thing." Comfort this thing through the hard times, celebrate the good with it, help it succeed and feel good as much as you can.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Wisconsin continues to fight. Badgers are tenacious. On Wisconsin! (TPM)
Am I a terrible mother for pre-ordering Go The F**k to Sleep? What? Louder? One more time? No? Okay awesome, thanks. (Amazon)
Right after you finish buying me copious amounts of flowers and once you've nail down your plans to feed me grapes and fan me with palms for Dia de
los Muert las Madres this Sunday, check out 19th century peace activist's original vision for an movement-based Mother's Day. (Greenwala )
My clothes horse sister has introduced me to the very impressive fashion blog of a Capitol Hill staffer who manages to post three times a day. Can you say dedicated? (Hint:you can) (Capitol Hill Style)
Allie Brosh, the genius behind Hyperbole and a Half, is coming out with a book. Oh, marry me already, H-and-a-H! "This is Why I'll Never Be An Adult" is basically my autobiography!
The Las Vegas Sun has excellent pictures of a very inspiring and moving march by casino workers. One day longer. (Las Vegas Sun)
And finally - sure, go ahead, keep whining about how you are oh-so-sick of the backlash to the backlash to the backlash to the ridiculous song "Friday" performed by the actually adorable and charming Rebecca Black. Because I am POSITIVE you were humming it in the shower this morning, hypocrite. You love "Friday" and everything associated with it. So without further ado, I would like to present to you, secret "Friday" lover, the Bad-Lip-Reading version of Rebecca Black's "Friday:" "Gang Fight." You're welcome. (YouTube)
Happy Fry-eee-day, y'all!
Here I go, here I go, here I go again. Girls, what's my weakness?
SIMPLE CARBOHYDRATES! Okay then. I’m sorry, I just love Salt ‘n’ Suga. 'N' wheat. 'N' high fructose corn syrup.
I cannot resist a cookie or a Twizzler or a Lindt truffle. I need to keep these things out of my house. I refuse to categorically reject any food (except donuts, those are completely unsatisfying to me and I feel like I need to eat 4 to feel satisfied so I am avoiding them post-pregnancy).
So I won’t say to myself, “I will never eat sugar again.” I know only one person in real life who as actually done that, and she is awesome, but I’m not her. I can’t give things up forever. What I can do is keep sweets out of my house. On maternity leave, they were so much easier to pop in my mouth with a babe in one arm than, say, preparing a salad. But then I would continue eating candy and didn't compensate by eating more healthfully on other days, or by exercising. Now that I need to model good habits for the kiddo, and get back to fighting weight (aka non-obesity), I can’t run to the grocery or drugstore in the middle of the afternoon to fulfill a Bassett’s Allsort craving as I did during pregnancy.
And I can strive to try to eat sweets when and only when there is something delicious and unusual afoot. For example, a night out for ice cream with friends, or my mother’s special coginettes at Christmas. The sweet surprise of the food truck cupcake arriving in our neighborhood. The treat of Mexican cookies at a Cinco de Mayo parties. Not daily binging at my apartment.Moral of the story? I can't be perfect. But. Cookies are a sometimes food, y’all.
*Apologies for the lyrics bastardization go out to the incredible Salt 'n' Pepa, who I have on 100% good authority read this blog every morning before breakfast. I LOVE YOU LADIES and I hope you understand.