Everyone’s favorite new . . .
R.N. (That’s Registered Nurse, folks!)
Lisa Butler Palmer Thomas!!!!!!
Way to go, LeeLee. I knew you could do it.
Introducing
June 29th, 2006The Hits Just Keep On Comin’
June 28th, 2006
Saturday: I come down with nasty head cold.
Sunday: Rollie comes down with diarrhea. Lasts until last night.
Last night: Eye starts itching. Wake up with left eye matted and crusted shut. Pinkeye! Just in time for my weekend away from the children, with my husband, I get to look like a goddamn ogre. Awesome.
That, My Dear Little One, Is Karma
June 27th, 2006Me: Rollie, get over here, so I can check your diaper.
Rollie: [petulantly] No! [Runs away from me.]
Me: You have until three. If I get to three . . . [turning to see where he went]
[Very loud sound of head hitting table.]That, my dear, is what we call karma. It’s a bitch.
Dear Diary
June 26th, 2006I was thinking last night about the exhibitionist nature of blogs. It began with me thinking that I was looking forward to a little writing this morning, as I have found that my daily musings are a great outlet for whatever I have pent up inside me at the time, and that I always feel relieved of it after having written about it. This reminded me for some reason of the exhiliration I felt upon receiving my first diary as a girl. It was a hardbound book, in multi-striped, primary colors. I never wrote devotedly every day, but that striped diary lasted me for years. It had a little brass lock and key on it, and I guarded that key with my life, for a girl never wanted anyone to read the private thoughts in that diary. And private they were – sure, they were the ramblings and thoughts of a young girl, but they were thoughts meant for no one’s eyes but my own. (And Dear Diary’s of course.)
I began thinking about the freedom of being able to write things never meant for public consumption, vs. the crafted blog entries I write these days. While I do get relief from writing about my daily life in my blog, there are still things that i think about that I would never publish on the Internet. Sure, I don’t mind talking about excrement and vomit, and starting my period (a subject that used to be solely for the eyes of my Dear Diary, but has now become as natural and shameless as eating a piece of pizza). I talk about my strange political views and I debunk myths about stay-at-home-motherhood. I admit, to the public, that sometimes I want to throw my children out of a moving vehicle. But there will always be a part of me that is kept separate from these posts. Things that preoccupy the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind. Thoughts and hates and fears and dreams and embarrassments and stomach-turning regrets that i would reveal to no one else, not my husband, best friends, sister, or maybe even aloud to myself. No, those are for me and my Dear Diary. I think i need to get her out. It’s been a long time since I’ve really flushed out this mind of mine.
Sweetie, I Love You, But. . . #2
June 22nd, 2006Tell me you did not really leave a wet Band-Aid on the shower window sill.
Genetic Predestination
June 21st, 2006
This is Rollie in his Batman mask. (He was Batman for last Halloween. I know, not that creative, but people, I had a 23-day-old baby and wasn’t functioning at full capacity. He’s lucky he even got to go trick or treating.)
While I was folding laundry in my bedroom yesterday, Rollie was running around in his mask, while Matilda sat on the floor. He ran right up to her, kneeled in front of her, and let out a ROAR! She burst into tears. I explained to Rollie that Matilda was scared of him in his mask, because she didn’t understand that it was him underneath. He removed the mask and showed her his face. I told him not to do it again. She giggled and I went back to folding laundry. Rollie put the mask back on, ran around the room,then ran straight back over to Matilda and got right in her face with an even louder roar. Matilda screamed bloody murder. Seems the thought of scaring his baby sister was just too alluring. He would brave Mother’s wrath for the look of fear in Matilda’s eyes. In punishment for disobeying me, I took away the mask and he apologized to Matilda.
Later, while they were napping, I went downstairs and kept myself occupied for a while. The result? Simon Elizabethan. That’s right: The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Rollie is a chip off the old block. Seems I just couldn’t pass up the chance to torture my cat by making him a paper towel Elizabethan collar and then photographing it for posterity. Ironic, no?
We’re In the Zoo
June 21st, 2006
We renewed our Zoo Atlanta membership again this year. I spent most of last summer chasing Rollie around the zoo. Seems he didn’t really care too much for the animal watching, but was more into picking up sticks, running away from me in crowds (not difficult to do as I was 6 months or more pregnant all of 2005), and getting around to the all-important picnic time.
For our second zoo outing of this summer, I was joined by my old friend Jason and his daughter, Elle. (Incidentally, the last time Jason was at the Atlanta zoo was the infamous Biology Birds project grading debacle.)
There was some trepidation on Jason’s part about taking Elle on the train, as she has some post-traumatic stress syndrome relating to her last train-riding attempt, but you can see in the picture with Jason, that she is a cool cucumber this second time around the track.
Rollie and Elle sit with bronze statue of the famed Willie B.
Rollie, Matilda, and I on the train. It was Matilda’s first time!
Elle, with Jason, is an old pro now!
So, I got a little bored. I did something a little crazy.
June 19th, 2006This whole mommy thing has been getting me down of late. Don’t get me wrong. I love my kids. I am happy I get to stay at home with them, and read to them, and play with them, and answer their many, many, many questions. But sometimes they just aren’t that intellectually stimulating. I mean, right now, we are talking about what freckles are, and Rollie is attempting to count all of the freckles on my arm. I know. You are wishing you could nod your head like a genie and suddenly be sitting in my chair. If only for a moment.
So, when I saw a week ago that Metroblogging Atlanta was accepting new authors, I jumped at the chance to do something new, something different, something not about my kids. So, what is my first post about? Trips to the Atlanta Zoo. With the kids.
But really, this is supposed to be about my city, and so my posts will have to be about Atlanta, not about Rollie and Matilda. That was part of the allure, and part of the challenge. The change and challenge of writing about something other than the all-consuming parenthood. But isn’t it fun that I get to look at the city I was born in through the eyes of my children? I think I will be looking at Atlanta, and at my own life with Todd and Tiller and Rolls, a little differently now.
The "News"
June 16th, 2006Rollie woke up early this morning, and then proceeded to go into Matilda’s room, waking her about an hour and a half earlier than she usually rises. (We woke to her screaming bloody murder and Rollie yelling, “Tilda’s crying!!! Mama, Dada, Tilda’s crying!” Gee, wonder why she’s crying.) So, all four of us were up bright and early, just after six. Todd changed Rollie upstairs, and I took Matilda downstairs to feed her and watch the news before the toddler onslaught of “Me watch Dora. Me watch Miffy. Me. Me. Me!” began.
When I watch the news in the morning, (usually i just read the New York Times online instead), I turn on the local ABC news affiliate, and then check out what’s on CNN’s American Morning. I then flip back and forth between the two during commercials. I must admit here and now that I am a news independent – I am not married to CNN, or to Fox News. In fact, I watch both about equally, depending on which annoying hosts and shows are on at the time, and sometimes forego both in favor of BBC America. So, in the mornings, I much prefer to watch CNN over the annoying Fox and Friends. I am thinking, though, that maybe many more Americans are watching Fox and Friends, because the very things that annoy me about it (inane chitchat, silly stories, smug commentators, etc.) are starting to infiltrate CNN. Miles O’Brien might as well dress up in a tuxedo, tophat, and tap shoes and do a rendition of The Andrews Sisters “Hello My Baby” (“Hello, my baby. Hello, my honey. Hello, my ragtime gal.”)
News stories that I actually consider worthy of air time on CNN this morning? Well, seems Bill Gates is stepping down from Microsoft to invest more time in his Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation. That? I think that is news. This affects the economy and the technology industry in a big way. Not to mention that I highly respect the work his foundation is doing. In particular, the foundation’s support of the School Matters initiative (for more info, see this.) Any other items of actual news interest to me were scrolling in the ticker at the bottom of the page, including the fact that things in The Sudan are deteriorating quickly into “chaos and warlordism if the U.N. does not give them support soon, says Mia Farrow.” Because God knows, if a celebrity doesn’t bring newsworthy items to my attention, then they just aren’t newsworthy.
Why on earth are the deaths in Darfur relegated to the scrolling ticker, while I am forced to watch the following “news” stories?
- Paul McCartney turns 64 this weekend during a messy divorce. (Oh, the irony! Now that’s news!)
- Motorcycle helmet safety and awareness. (Sure, this is news, but the only reason they gave it any airtime is because some dumbass football star wasn’t wearing a helmet when he crashed his motorcycle.)
- Britney Spears broke down in tears on national television while being interviewed by Matt Lauer (who must be really proud of landing the “big” interview.)
Wow. Sure am glad that CNN is keeping me in touch with what’s really going on in the world. Phew!
Teachers Who Made a Difference
June 15th, 2006I recently read a post by friend and fellow blogger Steph. She and I are both stay-at-home moms (SAHMs) of kids about the same age, and have discussed education at length of late. She recently posted about the educators who made a difference in her life, which is funny, because I was thinking of a few of them these past weeks, too. I just didn’t think to give them the proper thanks that they deserve, so i thought I would rectify the matter by giving them their very own post.
First and foremost, I have to thank my most valuable teachers: My parents. They instilled in me a love of reading and learning that has never left me in all these years. I remember them reading to me every night (Go, Dog, Go! and Cranberry Thanksgiving and Christmas), and I remember learning to read by example. Mom always had a paperback in hand, and Dad was a loyal, seven-days/week newspaper reader. In fact, he even attemped to teach me to read the stock market pages. Mom always told me that as long as I had a book, I had a friend. (This served me well in those awkward middle school years.)
Next up? Ms. Hamilton, my first grade teacher at the now defunct Northwestern Elementary in Alpharetta. She was an African-American woman, and I think she was young and unmarried. I remember having reading groups, based on our reading levels, and they were held in groups at a back table in the room. I don’t remember having a lot of other subjects; As far as I recall, we had reading and math, had a lunch and a recess, and occasionally (maybe once a week for an hour) a music teacher came in. (In particular, i remember him playing a creepy Halloween record with a song on it called, “The Ghost of John,” to which we had to walk around the room as if we were ghosts, while singing. Fat chance schools would do something so cool these days!) Ms. Hamilton spent time with all of the students, no matter their level, and challenged us. When we weren’t receiving instruction directly from her, we were to complete cards out of a box that I believe was called “SRA.” It was fun and challenging to continue to complete more and more difficult cards. I still credit this classroom with much of my learning today.
8th grade: Mrs. Sparrow. She was my homeroom teacher, (my friend Steph’s husband, Doug, was in my homeroom that year!) and she also taught science. I actually don’t recall much about what I learned in those years, but I do remember that she was aware enough of her students to know that I was having difficulties and she would try to talk to me about it. At the time, these talks didn’t do much to allay my angst, but looking back, maybe someone just noticing was enough to make a difference. i would like to think that one of my childrens’ teachers would notice if they were having problems.
High School: Mr. Terry. I am not sure what years I had him, as I think i had him more than once for history classes. But this was a man whose love of his subject was contagious, and who really could get a kid (who was completely preoccupied with meeting boys and going to parties) occasionally think about history. I only wish that I had been a better student, or who knows where I might be now with his instruction in a subject that I now find so interesting! But it was certainly not his fault; the fault was all mine.
Sadly, that is my very short list. Three teachers who actually really made an impact on me. I don’t mean to say that there weren’t other good teachers in my years of public school, but those are the ones that stick out for me as going the extra mile to help me, both in the classroom and out.
But Mom and Dad are the real heroes here.