47 Weeks

Dear Parker,

You are 47 weeks old.  And you are my sweet baby angel.  Now, don't get me wrong, your brother Jackson is pretty cool, too.  But I am writing this letter to you.  Because as a little baby girl who will grow into a woman, this is an incredibly important time in history.  Hopefully, you are too young to  understand (or repeat) the vile words that often come tumbling out of my mouth when I'm watching the news these days. But I do want you to know, one day, what I was thinking and feeling and hoping.

Usually, I use this space to write about you and Jax and share my thoughts on thought-provoking topics such as toenails, my spirit-crushing experience in exercise class and the latest wacky alternative treatment your grandmother is trying.  Or making me try, such as the 'laser' she routinely fires up and places next to my broken left foot.  (And no, I don't really know what it is.  It's a battery-operated machine that looks like a large remote control with flashing lights and she claims it has magical healing powers.  One day you'll learn sometimes it's just easier to go with it, just sigh, let her place the crazy thing next to your foot, turn on the tv and just go with it.)

But I digress.

As I was saying, this is not a place where I would normally write about anything too serious.  (Although, truly, what's NOT serious about the The Awning, I mean RUHLLY.)  But this is an incredible time in our history and you are witness to it, even if you don't know it yet.

When we held the Baby Blessing for you and your brother, part of the ceremony was a poem I read on Zee's fabulous blog and a portion of it is here:

 

May God bless you with
anger at injustice, oppression, and

exploitation of
people, so that you may wish for justice, freedom and peace.

May God bless you with
enough foolishness

to believe that you
can make a difference in this world,

so that you can do
what others claim cannot be done.

 

Your father and I took these words very seriously.  I want you and Jackson to notice injustice and oppression and bigotry and not only wish for equality and justice but work for it too.  And I want you to believe that you can make a difference, even in a tiny little way. To make the world a better place.

We are in the middle of a crazy time, with many different things happening all at once.  There's an economic crisis the likes of which none of us have ever seen and we're less than two weeks away from a truly historic election.

But there are a couple of really crazy things happening now, things that are propelling Mommy into the kitchen night after night, to scour the cupboards for remnants of  crackers or Toll House chocolate chips that might have fallen out of the package and then to crack open all those bottles of Chardonnay as she watches countless hours of CNN.

One of these things is that there is a woman, her name is Sarah Palin, and she's the candidate for the Vice President of the United States on the Republican ticket.  (And no, if they are elected, she will NOT be in charge of the U.S. Senate, she will not really "get in there with the senators and make a lot of good policy changes." Because, and hopefully you will learn this in a Civics class one day, the only power a vice president has, according to a little document known as the Constitution, is to preside over the U.S. Senate. And maybe cast a vote here and there, in case of a
tie.) 

But anyhoo, having her run as the VP candidate on the ticket is very confusing for Mommy.  On the one hand, Hurray! A woman ran a fantastic campaign during the primaries and was almost the Democratic party presidential nominee.  And then Hurray! The Republican nominee went and chose a woman.  What strides we're making!  What a different world you'll grow up in! 

But then it was like, Hurray!  Hur–what?  Wait, what did she say?  Hold on.  What's wrong with this picture? 

WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK?

She sneers at her opponent's community organizing work during her first big speech on a national stage?  That's mean.  And for those of us who have worked in the not for profit sector, downright insulting.  And she likes to hunt and kill animals?  FROM A HELICOPTER?  And she wants to drastically curb your reproductive rights (Greetings! I'm your Understatement Of The Day!) as well as your access to open and honest sex education.  And she wants to amend the Constitution of the United States to ban marriage between two women or two men?  And when serving as Mayor, inquired about the possibility of removing certain "objectionable books" from the library?

And she openly calls her opponent
anti-American and accuses him, at campaign rallies in front of
thousands of people, of "palling around with terrorists"? And seems to think certain parts of this country are more American than others.

And she calls herself an Every Woman Hockey Mom You Betcha but then spends an assload of money on expensive designer clothing and hair and make-up. She claims to be able to do it all, to put down the Blackberry and pick up the breast pump. As if the rest of us working moms should be doing the same.  Except she actually makes a good enough living,  good enough that her husband doesn't have to work full time outside the home, and when she travels for business her kids get to tag along. And she has tons of family members who pitch in to help, and she could bring her tiny baby to work with her and stash her under the desk while she conducted business. She didn't seem to need paid time off after the babies were born, daycare, or a nanny. Or Lexapro.

She hasn't spoken much about family leave or the need to have high quality, affordable childcare options for working mothers, because I guess she really COULD do it all. 

 IT'S ALL JUST TOO MUCH FOR MOMMY.

What is a Mom with a baby girl to do?

Is she a role model to young girls? Despite the fact that I am diametrically opposed to every single thing she stands for and to be honest, those frame-less glasses just don't really do it for me either, should I respect the fact that she's clearly motivated and has made great strides in the political realm?

Do I consider her a feminist because she calls herself one, even though in the same sentence she mentions how she fished and hunted with her brothers as a young girl and THAT'S what makes her one?

Is she causing more cracks in the glass ceiling or actually putting duct tape over the cracks that other women have made?

Is she saying that a woman really can bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan? While totally pulling off the Sexy Librarian look? Or is she saying that a woman should kill the pig herself (from a helicopter, to make it more fun), bring it home to a large family, fry it up in a pan while Blackberrying co-workers and breastfeeding a newborn? 

IT'S ALL JUST TOO MUCH FOR MOMMY.

I want you to grow up believing you can do great things, and I want you to find amazing role models who can serve as examples for you. I want strong, powerful women to help light your path through the world. But suddenly the definition of 'role model' isn't so clear.

I want you to see things in the world that you want to change, and I want you to have the power to change them. I don't want you to have such convoluted, confusing images of what a strong, feminist woman looks like. 

But how we're going to get there is anybody's guess. 

I'm off to crack open another bottle of wine, hunt for a stale cracker or two and hope for the best.

With all my love,

Mommy

Trouble Afoot Chez Watson

"Tiny Tim is coming!" BeBop yells, quite inappropriately, each morning as I crutch my way down the hallway toward the babies.  CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK is the sound you can hear about three minutes before I actually enter a room.

So here's the dealio:  the first doctor who stated that I would be off the crutches within a week, that I would then use a walking boot alone, and that the total recovery time was 4-5 weeks was either 1) a sick, twisted individual who thrives on giving patients false expectations; 2) an escaped metal patient from the psych ward who tackled a real doctor, knocked him out with a blow to the head or the liberal application of chloroform to a white handkerchief, stole his white coat and shoved him in a nearby supply closet and spent the day impersonating a doctor; or 3) JUST WRONG.

WRONG WRONG WRONG

When I saw a specialist the week after breaking my foot, he said that I would get the walking boot, but have to be on crutches for AT LEAST another 3-4 weeks AND the total recovery time was more like 8-12 weeks. WTF?? And let me tell you, this 'walking boot' looks like something Darth Vader's bride would wear. It's just huge and cumbersome and hideous and doesn't match with ANYTHING. And? I have to pretty much wear some kind of running shoe type deal on the other foot, because I'm such a freakin' klutz I'm afraid without the proper support on my right foot I'm asking for trouble.

And as if getting that news wasn't bad enough, the doctor had a wall-mounted Shop Vac in the exam room. "What's that for?" I asked.  "To get rid of the evidence," he said.  "Hahaha. No really. What's it for?" I persisted.  DUMBASS that I am.  "For the callouses and toe nails." 

Me = sorry I asked.

So I'm hobbling around and will be until Christmas, for crissakes, and can't even really be alone with the babies because they're crawling all over the place and I can't keep up with them, but worse, I can't pick them up and carry them. For some reason they're just not up to speed on the whole 'get your asses in here and get in your highchairs and make yourself some dinner and while you're at it get Mommy a big glass of wine' routine I've tried to implement.  DAMN you 10 and 1/2 month old ingrates!

But here's the good news, the Baby Blessing was just fantastic.  Even though I was hobbling around, and I couldn't get my roots done (so my hair looked like ASS), and I didn't have a kicky new outfit that would hide my flabbiness (so I looked, well, huger than I would have liked) and I couldn't get a mani or a pedi (so my feet and hands were a hot mess) and the house was far from perfect (so I looked totally disorganized) and from this angle it was a perfect storm of unhappiness, even though all of this was in the background, it was still a beautiful, meaningful, once-in-a-lifetime day.

I tried to plan a 'green' party, which turned out great. I sent on-line invites using pingg.com, I ordered biodegradable plates, cups and plasticware from here, and I hired a caterer who served* local, organic food. There were cloth napkins leftover from my sister's wedding and I had water in glass pitchers instead of plastic bottles.  (I was hoping to use small, potted plants as centerpieces but that plan was a casualty of my foot so I did have cut flowers on the tables.) BeBop designed programs that we printed on paper made from the bark of a renewable tree, that we found here and the coolest part is that the paper contains wildflower seeds, so if you plant it, it will bloom! For thank you letters, I sent these adorable, on-line notes from iomoi.

I won't bore you with details of the actual ceremony, but if you're interested please e-mail me.  The short version is, we started with a welcome and then oaths that the grandparents and the Godparents took.  Then I read a letter that I'd written to the babies the night before they were born. (Thank you scheduled c-section!).  We said a blessing to the babies and made a promise of how we wanted to raise them.  And then my sister and a close friend each read a poem, followed by a closing prayer.

I think it was a very different experience for our guests.  But people just went with it and afterward, said it was a wonderful ceremony.

And then because we don't want to throw another party at the end of November, we cheated a bit and celebrated the babies' birthday a tad early.  At the end of the party, we all gathered around Jax and Parker and let them each dig into a cupcake.  This was the first time they have ever had sugar (other than fruit and some Cheerios) and can I just say that if Parker could talk, she would have said, "Mommy  YOU SUCK for keeping such deliciousness away from me.  I'd yell 'I hate you' and run to my room but first I have to devour this yummy mess of chocolate and frosting and NOM NOM NOM NOM!!"

And Jackson would have said, "Ummmm…this thing you gave me is okaaaaayyyyy….BUT WHY ARE ALL THESE PEOPLE STARING AT ME??  I AM NOT a circus freak FOR THE LOVE OF GOD MAKE THEM STOP LOOKING AT MEEEEEEE!!"

Some fairly poor-quality shots to show you:

Parker b-day

Jax b-day

So there you have it!  That's what's new around here. I haven't been able to post sooner because seriously, after crutching around all day MY ARMS HURT.

*When I first posted this, I wrote "served used local, organic food…" With my stellar editing SKLS I forgot to take one of the words out, and DaisyCake commented that that really would be a new way to go green. And possibly moldy. And we did not do that. But slow food? HA. I'm thinking USED food might be a new movement that we've stumbled upon. 

“Is There Any Chance You Could Be Pregnant?”

he asked.  And then?  I died laughing.  I laughed so hard my head exploded off the top of my neck and then rolled around on the floor awhile.  While the rest of me kept laughing. And then?

I managed to bring myself back to life and answer the x-ray technician, "No, there is NO way I could be pregnant!"  

And then he took x-rays of my broken left foot. Remember when I made that crack about My Left Foot? Well, now I have a CRACK in MY LEFT FOOT.  Weird, huh?

And a total pain in the ass.

I wish I could tell you I broke it doing something totally awesome, like running with the Blond Mom Gang who finally let me in to their inner boot camp circle.  Or scaling a high fence chasing a prowler out of my neighbor's yard.  Or practicing my sweet jump roping skills. But alas, I broke it…walking.  Yes, walking. 

I was walking in a parking lot that had been blocked off for a flea market, so I was walking and looking and obviously, I am not capable of doing both activities simultaneously, and one second I was just walking and admiring some horrible, awful thing someone cheap ass was trying to unload on another cheap ass and BLAM!  Down I went.  In front of, oh I don't know, THREE HUNDRED PEOPLE.  I just didn't see the speed bump (I mean, who expects to see a speed bump in the middle of a flea market? There are cracked mirrors and moldy quilts to look at for crissakes!) and my foot landed on the very end of it and then WHAM, my foot turned a crazy angle to the left and there you go. Broken foot.

And it's not like I have two crawling babies at home. That like to escape the baby pen/petting zoo we've set and become Free Range Babies and wreak havoc all over the house.  And suck on Bosco's chew toys.  And lick the bottom of BeBop's flip flops that he leaves around.  OH WAIT. I do have two crawling babies at home that like to cause all sorts of mayhem.

But it's not like I have oh, 40 people coming over on Saturday for a Baby Blessing/early birthday party or anything.  OH WAIT. I do have 40 people coming over on Saturday for just such an event. 

I am super, super screwed.

But what are you going to do, really?  My sister is coming to help, and my outlaws are also coming, so I'm hoping that I can just sit on a chair and drink heavily and order people around and honestly, that sounds like a pretty good weekend to me.

We are having this Baby Blessing thing and apparently, people get very freaked out when you do something…slightly different.  What is it?  What do we wear?  What do we do?!?  Do we bring gifts?? GOD HELP US WHAT IS THIS EVENT YOU'RE CALLING A BABY BLESSING?!?  This is what I've heard from friends and family the last couple of weeks.

I'll post the ceremony next week, but the deal is we wanted to host a gathering of our family and friends (a ritual, if you will) to welcome Jax and Parker into our lives. I stole most of it from the Internet wrote it, and we both have parts to read, as do our parents and both Godparents.  I think I'm also reading a letter I wrote to the babies the night before they were born, but we'll see how weepy I am that day. (Perhaps the Vicodan will help.) Then we'll have food and drink and yummy cupcakes to celebrate the babies' birthday, even though it's early.

We did have them baptized in our church the weekend before last, "Just in case" as one of my friends said. But really, because I knew it was important to my parents. We outfitted them in the traditional garb, a long white dress for Parkie, complete with bonnet, and a little white suit for Jackson. They looked adorable, I must say. 

And it gave BeBop the perfect opportunity to make all kinds of Godfather references that to be perfectly honest, I didn't really get.

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