Happy Birthday, Dr. King

Thinking of you today reminds me of why I became a teacher, and thinking of tomorrow's historic inauguration of Barack Obama reminds me that (some) progress (even a little) is being made every day.

It's amazing to me that your day is still one of those sort-of holidays. Congress originally enacted the day as a day of service, but many companies don't recognize this day at all. Oh, and then there's Arizona -- the state that didn't want to recognize Dr. King. This day should be returned to its original dual purpose: to honor a man who gave of himself to change this country and to encourage all of us to do something too. Our President-elect has called for this spirit of volunteerism to be renewed today, and many can't participate because they work for companies that think their business is too important to take a break for a day.

Since my job at the moment is to care for my two babies, I can't be out painting a school or picking up trash at a park. I will spend some of today, however, working on the volunteer project I've had for many years now -- reading the writing of inmates at a state prison and (hopefully) encouraging them to enact progress and change in their own lives. What will you be doing?

We've opened our society to people of color and ensured that their civil rights are secure. This doesn't mean, though, that racism is a thing of the past. I'm sure Dr. King would acknowledge how much more work there is to do. Think of all the snide remarks you hear -- I'm still shocked at how common it is, actually. People who fancy themselves educated who still don't think of people who look different as their equals. I'm lucky I grew up with different values (better, I'd argue) that didn't allow that sort of prejudicial talk -- or, more importantly, think.

So what to do? Be the change you want to see. Go on now!

Dear Phone Gods,

Where is the f#*&*@g old cell phone that Josephine wants? I can't find it, and I've looked in what seem to be to be all the obvious locations in this dump of a house. She's in her crib, but won't settle down until she has this old phone. It's funny -- she liked it for a long time when she was younger, but then she wasn't interested in it at all for a long time. UNTIL someone let her take it to bed with her a few nights ago. And now she won't nap without it? Oh, if only you understood how we have struggled for regular sleep habits with this dear baby. Toys are not good sleep buddies. You must know that. That's why we invested in the Lamby as transitional object -- as a sleep symbol the baby could understand, if you will. Well, now she's been crying for over an hour for the broken down old cell phone she loves again as a toy. She must be awaiting a very important call. Someone will have to take a message.

As if I didn't have enough going on with two under two

We're having our kitchen renovated. Can you say dust, noise, money pit -- NIGHTMARE!?!? Two crying, pooping, hardly-sleeping babies just wasn't enough for me.

Yesterday was day 1, and it actually went better than I expected. We've set up a makeshift kitchen in the dining room, and we're counting on frozen foods, takeout, and the kindness of strangers for the next three weeks. Last night, we actually had homemade vegan chili that I'd made over the weekend. I have a few more meals like that stashed in the fridge, but after that I'll be phoning it in.

We have a carpenter who seems very understanding of the small children situation, and he not only does his best to clean up, but he even takes a few minutes to chat with the babies so they aren't freaked out by him. Nice, huh? There really isn't a good way to get these things done, but it doesn't help to have creepy people around. And now? Amidst demo, both babies are asleep, the little one in her bassinet and the big one on the floor of her room with her giant plush puppy. Was it the noise? I hardly ever get this lucky without reno!

Bite me

About a hundred times a day. That's what it seems like anyway. I know that toddler biting is a very common problem, but I'm not finding it easy to deal with. The firm "NO BITE" that all the books and websites say to give only stops her in the moment, and she's back with a mouthful of vengeance pretty soon thereafter.

I know she does it when she is tired or frustrated or over-excited, and I try to keep those times to a minimum. The fact that she's been teething for the vast majority of her brief life to date doesn't help either. I've found that consistent napping helps tremendously, but it's not really solving the problem.

Honestly, it's not that I worry about having bite marks all over me; I do, however, worry about her biting her little sister. It's only happened once so far -- right smack on the little one's head no less -- but it could so easily become habit. More importantly, I guess, I worry about her biting some other kid in one of her activities. We go to a library group and a music group, but in both of those situations, I'm there to watch her and participate with her. At my gym however, she's in a big play room with lots of other kids while I'm trying to lose an ounce or two of the fifty pounds of baby weight I'm dragging around with me. The woman who cares for the kids is very kind and on-the-ball, but how could she manage every little thing?

So does the biting go away with the teething? It is just a natural phase of life, an outlet for the pains and frustrations of being a baby?

All it takes is an egg and...

Thanksgiving is a wonderful holiday. This year, I am particularly thankful for the blessed Friday after, a day my husband gets to spend at home with me and les girls. (Well, he's actually spending it at home installing flooring in our basement, but you know what I mean --) I celebrated the extra whole-family day by making a big hunt breakfast, as my mom and dad like to call it, complete with eggs, soy bacon and homemade pumpkin muffins that I somehow managed to bake while making dinner two nights ago. (Hello? Domestic goddess committee? I'm over here...) As I finished scrambling the eggs and Michael was scooping up Josephine to put her in her highchair, he paused so she could see what I was doing, and said "WOW, look at Mama's nice eggs!" Not a beat (pun intended) went by before we both cracked up (ditto) thinking about how this is the first November in two years that I haven't been pregnant. I told him to get away from me and my eggs -- it's not that I don't like the rapid-fire babies we already have, but I'd like to take a year off!

Bad Mama

So we've already determined that I'm a bad mama because I let my almost eighteen-month old watch TV -- just Sesame Street -- but TV nonetheless.

But I've been thinking a lot about the research that says that children shouldn't watch any TV before they're two. What I have noticed is that my daughter's language capabilities have skyrocketed since she started watching it. I don't know if it is the style of talking that is prevalent on the show or her comfort with the characters or just the sheer excitement of the presentation of letters, numbers and words. I haven't noticed that having it on has had any negative impact on my now four-month-old either. If anything, she gurgles and giggles more when she hears her big sister talking. For example, Elmo's World did a segment on bananas, and at the end of it, he sang "The Banana Song" to the tune of "Jingle Bells," and days later, Josephine is still singing it. And every time she does, her little sister cracks up. The day she saw it, Josephine RAN to the kitchen and wanted a banana -- shrieked with perfect diction in perfect rhythm of the song. She learned to count to four in another episode, and now she lines up things and counts them. In fact, I think she may be nursing a major crush on The Count.

So what's so bad about this small TV habit? Are the researchers issuing an overly cautious caution so that dumb parents don't strand their kids in front of COPS or 24 or some other less educational, overly sexual or violent programming? I suppose I should read the research before I go and spout off about it, but done responsibly and in moderation (ummmmmm like everything in life) it seems more than fine to me. Media is a huge part of our culture, and don't we need to show our children how to integrate it into life without becoming a couch potato?

I am an educator, but I can't say that day-to-day life in our home would have taught her the counting -- and certainly not the sheer joy of landing on "FOUR!" the way Sesame Street has. I can't say that I would ever have thought to sing "Jingle Bells" using only the word banana. I'm grateful for the intelligent, timeless programming that is offered by PBS -- it's a great crutch for a Baby Buncher like me -- and it's really fun for my babies.

A haircut

has never been one of my favorite things. As a gal with long, curly (read: frizzy) hair, I always dreaded the snips that made my hair curl up, frizz up even more. Until I found Ouidad. I've been having my hair cut by the lovely Vincent at Ouidad for I think 10 years or so -- he, like all the stylists there understands the whys, wherefores and how-tos of curly hair. I had my haircut for the first time since before Josephine was born (yes, that's right, about eighteen months) on Saturday. Vincent was surprised to see me -- not with one baby, but with two, since the last time he saw me I was eight months pregnant with the big one. Vincent and Ouidad and lots of folks in the salon oooohed and aaaaaahed at the babies. It was a nice homecoming, and we laughed at how Josephine's hair seems to be curling up, too. I think I actually enjoyed this haircut. The haircut was a loss of a lot of dead weight.

I haven't been taking care of myself. I mean, obviously, I've been busy, but I mean I really haven't been taking care of myself. I've struggled in the last four months to do the basics: eat well, exercise, get dressed, brush my teeth. None of my pre-first-or-second pregnancy clothes fit, because if you remember, I was only not pregnant for two and a half months between babies. I'm not one of those women for whom the weight just fell off when I started nursing. And if you are, I really don't want to hear about it. I started the week last week by joining a gym -- my friend and birth doula belongs there, and if it is cool enough for her, it is cool enough for me. I've actually been going, and of course I'm still fat, but I feel better.

During both of my pregnancies, my hair grew like crazy. It was coarser, thicker, and it grew long over those eighteen months. But when it all started to fall out for the second time after the second baby, it didn't look or feel good. My hair had atrophied like my sorry limbs, and atop my mushy body I had scraggly -- but very long -- hair. It almost didn't curl it was so tired. Vincent was kind; he didn't lop it all off in one fell snip. He knew that would have made me faint. He gingerly cut off inches -- maybe ten, maybe eleven, I don't know -- until I felt light, light light. It was a wonderful feeling -- better than going to the gym. Better than putting on a real bra after wearing a nursing bra for how long? Yeesh.

It's a trek for me to get into the city for my haircuts now that I have two under two, but I'm not going to put it off from now on. That feeling of buoyancy, that lightness -- it might be the best diet yet.