Back to School & Hello Kitty August 23, 2007

So we have bought Mogo all her school supplies; complete with a Hello Kitty backpack & matching lunch bag (she is on a bit of a Sanrio kick these days). The back pack is small but still WAY too big for her. All in all, I spent roughly $60.00 on school supplies and I have not even gotten the classroom wish list yet (Do all schools do this or is it just California?) The wish list is what I am dreading most. I think that may very well set me back another $75.00. Since the teachers do not get enough funding to buy the stuff they need for the classrooms, they ask the parents to buy an assortment of things that the kiddos will need for the school year. I saw one of the lists last year for a 2^nd grade classroom and on it were things like bleach wipes, and Kleenex, construction paper and extra crayons. Sheesh where the hell are our tax dollars going anyways? I know they aren’t using them to pay these teachers what they are worth; they could at least buy the essentials for the classrooms. I suppose that would just make too much sense though. I fully intend to buy my portion of the classroom booty though, if I don’t that poor teacher will have to pay for much of it out of his/her own pocket. It is a sad, sorry state of affairs. No child left behind my arse but I digress.

So Kindergarten starts in less than 2 weeks. I have much to do to prepare. Registration to process, parent orientation, more school supplies, and sewing little girl dresses, buying school clothes and breathing (lots of breathing). Did I mention that we will be moving the 2^nd week of school? Yeah – I am a little crazed. Have I also mentioned just how utterly stoked (and I mean seriously, the girl is STOKED) Mogo is about starting Kindergarten? There is so much to be excited about… She is excited about the prospect of homework (whose child is this?) and about making new friends (she thinks we are inviting her whole class to her B-Day party which BTW is the 3^rd week of school). She is excited that her school is painted green (“cause that is just silly”) and that she will get to learn how to read like a big girl. I am excited so for her, I have butterflies  in my tummy for her. I feel like I am starting school (and Man, I hope I don’t fuck it up this time).

She is getting so big. She no longer fits on my lap comfortably. Now when she has had a hard day of playing, she smells like kid sweat and needs a bath whereas before when she was still so little, it didn’t matter how hard she played, she still smelled baby sweet. Speaking of babies… the baby has completely left her face, she just looks like a big ole kid now. She looks so grown up as she can reach the dinning table without having to sit on her knees or as she is telling a story. She gets this determined big kid face (complete with tongue sticking out to the side) as she is trying to figure stuff out and I know she is standing in a hole but she wore a pair of overalls recently that made her look so tall and so lean! The up and out growth is not a myth! Maybe she will end up taller than 5”2 after all.

What I am trying to say is that I am in awe. I can’t believe that in less than 1 month she will be 5 years old. I don’t know if this is as much of a milestone for other Moms as it is for me. I am probably blowing it way out of proportion but sheesh man, she made it to 5! No visible scars, or permanent damage that I can see, she is going to turn 5 in one month and she has mostly escaped toddler-hood unscathed. Thank the Gods! I love watching her experience every single bit of her development. I am surprised that I don’t miss her babyhood as much as I thought I would. I am enjoying her age right now. Sure, I liked not getting as much lip when she couldn’t talk (and the lip has been in effect since her very first word – let me tell you!) but despite the not so pleasant parts of her development (you know like sarcasm or temper tantrums) I am just tickled pink that she gets to develop at all. I cannot imagine my world without Mogo in it.

SO here it is, I am saying it out loud feel free to hold me to it… I vow not to be one of the Moms who cry as they drop the kiddo off at their classroom. I will wait patiently until I have climbed into my car and gotten at least a mile away before I start my blubbering. The blubbering will be because she made it this far, and because I am so proud. It will not be because I will miss the baby stuff or some vain need to keep her a puppy forever but because my baby is growing up and I can’t wait to see how it all turns out.

Just checking out this Technorati thing. August 18, 2007

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Balance, or a Lack Thereof August 14, 2007

This is a repost from a blog I posted on MySpace once upon a time. I was looking at some old posts today deciding what to delete and what to keep in an effort to clean up my workspace and when I came across this one I said to myself “Self, this is exactly how you are feeling right now post the damned thing again.”

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Balance, it is a nice word. I like the idea of it. It sounds lovely.

My zodiac sign is Libra with Libra rising (and a Taurus moon). Libra’s like to be in balance although; I have never known a Libra who was. The truth is us Libras mostly cannot make up our mind about anything. Often our equilibrium is thrown off and we are rarely if ever in control (and OH how we love to be in control)! We like to dole out justice and point out when others have done wrong. We love to show you how unbalanced you are and how to go about fixing it all. It is a flaw, I am afraid I am plagued with it and I am sorry if I have subjected you to one of my famous rants.

The truth is my world is pretty off kilter. I am the girl who looses her shoes at your house. I loose keys and sunglasses regularly. I am rarely if ever organized. My bills sit on my computer desk un-opened until someone calls me to remind me that it is late. I forget to feed my fish, water my plants. It is a wonder that I remember to feed/bathe Mogo. My laundry is usually strewn about on my bedroom floor. The clean laundry is housed in a hamper folded but never quite making it to the drawers of my dresser. I lag horribly on things like thank you notes and RSVPing to any party or function. I am really bad about getting the oil changed in my car or even washing the damn thing.

I strive for balance. I want to be one of those women who always looks put together. She doesn’t have loose buttons on her jacket, she doesn’t ever spill coffee on her chest and if she does, she has a perfectly pressed blouse to change into in her purse or something. I want to be “her”. I want to find out how she keeps her skin clear and flawless, her make-up perfectly applied. She never gets raccoon eyes from her eyeliner. How does she walk in those 2 inch heels without taking them off every 5 minutes or complaining that they hurt her feet? Why is it that she knows just how much perfume to apply so that it lasts all day but doesn’t cause her co-workers to sneeze? I bet her white bras are perfectly white and her sweaters and knits don’t get those little fuzz balls on them. Her hair doesn’t seem to tangle or muss. If she puts it up, it stays up and doesn’t frizz around the edges. If it is down it is luxurious and perfectly brushed with no flyaways to speak of. She is amazing to me. I am just not that girl. I am not genetically made up that way. Where do these women learn these skills?

You see, I do have these spurts of energy where my house is clean and I am organized and on top of everything but they only really last a week. I am convinced that those are simply weird spokes in my menstrual cycle. I want to find balance. I want to be more disciplined and more in control of my own life. I want that internal voice that tells me when I need to change the oil on my car; the voice that argues with me when I want to procrastinate on paying a bill. I think this is the same voice that tells “her” that she only needs 1 cookie, or 1 beer, or not to eat the whole fricking bag of potato chips. “Her” voice probably reminds her to keep her 2 inch heels in the box they came in so they don’t get smashed by her Doc Martins. Come to think of it… “Her” voice probably told her not to buy the Doc Martins in the first place. It probably reminds her that it is time to see her colorist or to get her legs waxed. Alas, I have no such voice. My inner asshole does not concern herself with such trivialities. She spends all her time telling me what a fuckup I am and that I will never even compare to “Her.”

I think she just needs to be shot, but then I would have no voice at all.

Why do we do this anyways? August 11, 2007

There are those who are of the opinion that blogging is narcissistic at worst, and a total waste of time at best. I don’t know about that – I love to read them. Perhaps that is a bit voyeuristic but to know that some Mom in South Africa is having some of the same crap going on as I do… well it just makes me feel like a little less than a freak. I also think that blogs give a unique opportunity to have discussions about things that folks think about. The anonymity of the internet turns some people into crazy trolls but for the most part I have noticed that folks can agree to disagree and have a thoughtful debate (thank the gods that we can delete comments though!)

As for the writing of my blog, I love it. Perhaps that is because I am a narcissist who likes to waste time. All I know is that I type faster than I write and when I am supposed to write in my spiral bound journal ON PAPER, I only actually do it twice a year. When I blog, I actually write about 3 times a week at least. For the most part I write about things that are stuck in my head. I have A LOT of opinions and it just is not fair to subject my poor husband to them all. When I have the blues you all get to hear about it (ad infinitum), and when I cannot contain my pride or chagrin about Mogo I come here rather than impose my Mogo stories on innocent strangers in the elevator at work.

I guess I am a Mommy Blogger. I don’t really see anything wrong with that but I frequently see other mommy bloggers who are trying desperately to be anything but that. Not a worry for me. I am a Mommy. It is my most important and my favorite function. It makes up who I am and how I interact with other folks. It colors my opinions on politics and on current events. I do not know how other women separate the mommy in them from the other stuff because for me, it is all intertwined. It also gives me a chance to be myself completely; I am pretty honest in this venue. I can allow the chick that only lives in side my head, aka my “inner asshole” but sometimes thats the chick that lets me admit when I have done wrong or when there is a lessons  to be learned from whatever experience. I don’t let her talk much in the real world. She is sort of a pain in the ass. Here though, I can just let her do the typing.

I have a few topics that are off limits for my blog. I will not talk much about my marriage. I don’t think my Old Man would appreciate it much. I won’t talk about work with the exception of the occasional vague reference to the fact that I work with scientist weirdos but mostly anything goes.

So, I am taking a leap here… I am hoping to start some discussion. So I have a few questions…

1. Why do YOU blog?
2. What purpose does it serve for you? Do you get an artistic release from it? Do you get to complain more than you do in real life because no one of any consequence to you can tell you to stuff it?
3. Do you consider yourself voyeuristic for reading other peoples blogs?
4. What are your blogging taboos?
5. Do you even read your comments?

Can’t Stand Them… August 7, 2007

So I was over at Culture Lust this a.m. where they were talking about The BRATZ Movie and since I am of the opinion that BRATZ Dolls are the bane of every Mom’s existence (and if they aren’t they certainly ought to be) I figured I would talk about it here too. Feel free to jump in with your opinions anytime. Lord knows, I have lots of them.

I am what I consider to be a feminist (well sort of). I think that for this (meaning my) generation there is a new definition to what feminism is. We don’t have to turn ourselves into men to fit into the business world and woman can do any thing men can do and often better (ok, save for a few exceptions because there are just a few things I cannot reach to do myself and my Old Man is King of opening a Strawberry Jelly Jar). In a world where Gloria Steinem got married until death parted them due to cancer, and where we have a female candidate for Americas top office although many will admit she is just not the right “Man” for the job (I am a John Edwards kind of girl myself) many aspects of feminism have changed over time. That is not to say it is better now (although many things ARE better) just that the original folks from the Feminist movement have paved our way to where we are now and we should not stop moving it all along. (BTW, Thanks Girls!) We don’t have to hate men to compete with them. We can be feminine and be strong, opinionated, and powerful. Now, if we could only work on the infighting that makes us women our own worst enemies we would all be much better off.

All that said my girl power opinions definitely spill over to how I intend to raise our little one. I want this little girl of mine who loves pink and princesses and anything that is remotely girlie to climb trees, play with bugs, and hike in the canyon all the while in her frilly pink dresses (Go read “Growing a Girl” it explains my point precisely). I want Mogo to know that she is about more than her body and her beautiful face but that her body deserves respect and how to demand it of those who would objectify her. I want her to embrace that she is smart and that she does not have to “dumb down” to win friends or influence people. That her cleavage (which she is bound to have lots of due to genetics) is not the most important thing to display – and that if I ever catch her dressing like one of those Bratz dolls, I am gonna kick her little… Oh sorry I got a little off track there. Basically, I want her to learn all the stuff I didn’t until I was much, much older.

So far Mogo knows that Mommy thinks those BRATZ dolls are “Tarts” (an unfortunate word I had not meant to teach her) and she is not allowed to have one. She knows that I don’t like Barbie because she does not look like what a real woman looks like. She also knows that I would write a different ending to many of the fairy tales we read. I have her trained. If you ask her what she has to do before marrying her prince, she will tell you she has to “go to Gradumate School to become a Master.” We discuss these things in an age appropriate way. I don’t keep her from watching the Princess movies but I do ask her a lot of questions about what makes sense to her with regard to the stories and how perhaps the Princess of the week could have handled things on her own. Thus far she has some pretty good ideas. I am encouraged.

I think the BRATZ dolls are just a symptom of how we as a society over sexualize our children. For example, you cannot easily find a cute and reasonably priced 1-piece bathing suit for a toddler, and Mary Kate & Ashley are putting out Bikini underpants for the preschool set at Wal-Mart (although I wonder if they did that because those are the sizes they fit into). Not to mention that when you buy a pair of jeans in a 4T you better have her try it on at the store lest you realize when you get home that you just purchased a pair of low-rise.

Over at Culture Lust, Angela points out that children use toys to try on different personas and to simulate real life scenarios. I remember what the little girl next door would simulate with her Barbies when I was a kid and let’s just say that girlfriend had some interesting ideas about what constituted baby making and I was happy to correct her. Somehow when I think of simulating anything with these dolls, I have visions of an A.N. Roquelaure school of pretend play that just disturbs me (see Ann Rice Sleeping Beauty Series). Perhaps I just need to get my head out of the gutter though. I still don’t like Barbie but I would prefer it over BRATZ any day of the week. Somehow I get more of an old fashioned Missionary position type feel from Barbie that I just don’t get from BRATZ. Even if they are trying to clean up the BRATZ image what with the new movie and all. I don’t think they can convince me that it is ok for them to look like they are working a street corner just because they are good at math.

What will be really difficult as Mogo enters Kindergarten is keeping up with this when she desperately wants to be just like all her friends and have all the same stuff they think is cool. Judging by they way these dolls are flying off the shelves, I imagine it is inevitable that mommy’s explanation of “I just really don’t like them” is not going to be enough to placate her much longer. I guess I will have to cross that bridge when I get to it though.

There will be no reincarnation for you… August 4, 2007

Silly Communists.

China Tells Living Buddhas To Obtain Permission Before They Reincarnate

Author: Jane Macartney Source: The Times (UK)

Title: CHINA TELLS LIVING BUDDHAS TO OBTAIN PERMISSION BEFORE THEY REINCARNATE

Tibet’s living Buddhas have been banned from reincarnation without permission from China’s atheist leaders. The ban is included in new rules intended to assert Beijing’s authority over Tibet’s restive and deeply Buddhist people.

“The so-called reincarnated living Buddha without government approval is illegal and invalid,” according to the order, which comes into effect on September 1.

The 14-part regulation issued by the State Administration for Religious Affairs is aimed at limiting the influence of Tibet’s exiled god-king, the Dalai Lama, and at preventing the re-incarnation of the 72-year-old monk without approval from Beijing.

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Silly, silly communists.

Meet Mogo… August 2, 2007

In researching on the web for Kindergarten readiness, “they” suggested that parents write a brief letter to the teacher to describe their child, their academic background and any concerns you might have. So here is mine.

Dear Mr. or Mrs. Kindergarten Teacher Person,

I would like to introduce you to our daughter Mogo. You can’t miss her; she is the one with the piercing blue eyes and the blonde bouncy curls and raising her hand enthusiastically to ask if she can throw away your trash or to tell you that you have a booger hanging from your nose and would you please take care of that right now. She is kind of cool that way. She will be more than happy to help you enforce the class rules (she would be ideal for any hall monitor positions that come up throughout the year). You should know that unless you have a rational explanation behind it, she really does not take “No” for an answer. Once she gets the rule behind the “No” she is pretty agreeable though – the girl respects the law. Any “undoing of the law” will not be tolerated.

On occasion, you may find the need to remind her that she has not yet earned her teaching credential and she ought to allow you the honors of teaching the class (really, we are working on that). She can’t tie her shoes yet (probably because I avoid shoe laces like the plague) but the girl is pretty good with a pair of scissors. Just keep her far away from the girls with long flowy hair. She loves nature. She can decipher a female seagull from its male counterpart and a seal from a sea lion. She loves animals so much in fact that she carries at least 4 imaginary animals in her pocket at any given time. We try to get her to leave them in the car but sometimes one or two will sneak out when we aren’t paying attention. Be careful, the monkey tends to goose people.

In addition to the imaginary animals in her pocket she has an assortment of imaginary children that she has birthed from the steel trap that is her mind and they range in age from 5 to 42. She knows they are imaginary but doesn’t like to admit it. Her “kids” may or may not make an appearance in your class, they usually only pop up when she is feeling lonely or left out.

Our Mogo loves to talk; she loves to sing – loudly and often, and she lives for the dance (interpretive usually). You see she’s got moves you’ve never seen. I envision lots of admonitions to keep her hands to herself to sit still and “while that is a lovely song Mogo, please refrain from singing it again lest I put out my own eyeball right here in the front of the classroom” in your future. I promise we will work on that at home as well.

She is pretty great though. She is smart and totally ready for Kindergarten – just ask her.

Sincerely,
Mogo’s Mom

I probably won’t send it though. A girl has to have a little mystery.