two little speckled frogs

And now for a lighter-hearted post. You do need to see a little bit of Halloween, right?



Trick or treating is AWESOME, even in the rain, even with a persistent ear infection.









This spider was/is the most beloved item in Gabriel's haul.



Candy makes us happy. I decreed the family-wide rule: two pieces per day. Eat them whenever you want. (In Frances' case, that's by 7:30 am every morning). Don't tell anyone, but I'm afraid this mama broke her own rule within hours of making it.

gender, continued

I have tried responding to Amelia twice and somehow my comment disappears! I have apparently figured out how to post but not how to comment. Very frustrating. Also embarrassing. So I will comment here, on a new post:

First, I had no idea that concerns about gender equity were part of why Michael hesitated to have children. (Hard to believe we haven’t talked about this more in the past). I have always envied you your shared job, and admired that it wasn’t just about ‘having more time for the kids’ but also about having more time for other projects, for flexibility, for yourselves and each other – and now I also get how it helps ensure equal status, at least in the eyes of the world and in terms of your paycheck. It seems an ideal starting place if equity is the goal, though I imagine even so negotiation about who does what and how is required.
Speaking of negotiation. Because of the nature of Mike’s job, how it expands and contracts and is ever-present, we aren’t able to come up with rules about who does what to ensure a balance. (Rules can be dumb anyway). That means we need to communicate regularly about these things, and communication of that sort requires time and energy, two things young children sap with a relentless ferocity the likes of which I’d never encountered before they arrived.
But even more than the confines of work life right now, I think the thing that demands negotiation is what you refer to in part 2. We figured out before the kids that gender equity cannot mean splitting everything down the middle, 50/50, because we are different. We have different strengths and desires and we simply would not enjoy our lives as much – we would not flourish - if such a structure were enforced. Truth be told, I desire to care for the children more than Mike does. I want to make papier mache maracas and fall trees. I love cooking. He loves gardening. I prioritize a clean bathroom. He doesn’t mind folding laundry. But put a little stress on the system (too much work, an ear infection) and we get into our own gender-associated ghettos that can lead us to bad places, unless we actually talk about it.
It seems like a goal might be to live day to day life as equal partners. A partnership of equals, wherein both people feel free to express discontent, free to ask for change, able to listen, able to adapt.
I do miss sharing domestic tasks, the way we did before children. This seems a major loss to me. Now we must divide and conquer, or at least divide and do an okay job. Perhaps when the children are older we’ll be able to cook together again.
Now I’m off to work on my resume. ! I’ve decided to try to market myself as a freelance writer and editor for non-profits and NGOs around here – a way to stay connected to the things I am passionate about, use some of my skills, and hopefully develop good connections for future work. What do you think?

p.s. HOW WAS PARIS???? Please tell us about what it is like to be away for so long...in the world's most beautiful city, speaking a bit of French, drinking excellent coffee, etc.!

Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle's cure for retro gender roles

For those of you that knew me when, you may remember many a conversation - either in the "ding king" '94 Altima, or over red plastic plates long scraped clean of chick peas in a cramped apartment - in which I muddled through problems of gender and power with persistence and perhaps way too much emotion. You know how girls can be.
Ha.
Before we had children, we talked a lot about gender roles and balance and communication. Mike was reading continental philosophy in grad school. I was reading Jane Austen novels over and over and thinking about social work. There was so much to talk about! When I was in grad school, I thought about how policy can address the vulnerability of girls and women. I thought about how men could and should change, and how that change might be facilitated through policy and social programs.
I still think about these things (albeit distractedly). But recently I realized that Mike and I left the more elusive, philosophical conversation about the nature of gender and how it shapes our lives behind; it must have been sometime during Frances' babyhood. Life took over and filled up all the old spaces, leaving much less time and energy for those demanding talks. But I miss them! I miss talking about those things that are deeper and un-legislatable. A mysterious force that leads me to say "sure, of course I can help" or even, "please, what can I do to help?" when I simply have nothing left to give. The inevitable private resentment that follows, the difficulty I have with asking for help and expressing anger.
Perhaps you are wondering what any of this has to do with mothering or my children. Two things happened recently that made me realize I am in dire need of examining gender anew: Edith told me to read Freaky Fortnight, and Frances and I have read a couple of Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle books. I haven't read all of Freaky Fortnight but what I did knocked something loose for me. Becoming a stay at home mother has showed me that the door leading back to the fifties is definitely still open (I even just painted my kitchen pink!!) and if I slept less and drank more, I can easily imagine heading into an outrageous vision of family life straight out of Madmen. If I didn't pay attention, I'd clean all day and feel low-level unexpressed anger and start squeezing my kids' arms a little too tight on the way out of the grocery store.
Oh, it gives me the shivers! Not just for myself, but for my growing kiddos.
When I worked and Mike stayed home, we glowed with self-congratulation thinking about how Frances had a Papa who fed her lunch and took her to the playground, and how she would be so much more flexible in her own ideas about what men and women do. It was part of what sustained me during that time - I believed what we were doing would be of great benefit both to Mike and Frances. Then Mike got a fabulous demanding job in a weird town, and I happily agreed it was my turn to stay home. But it is different.
In Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle, Frances pointed out to me that "it seems like all the mamas in this book stay home and all the papas go to offices!" and also that "the papas are always reading the paper and not helping the kids while the mamas give everyone breakfast!" and suddenly I wanted to shut the book and throw it into the scary buggy part of the basement where no one ever goes. The worst part is that breakfast at our house is not so different. Okay, Mike is MUCH better about not reading the paper during breakfast these days. I made a request. That worked out pretty well.
But what to do about the gender roles in all our favorite books? I have been so looking forward to sharing Louisa May Alcott and Laura Ingalls Wilder ... but now I feel a bit ambivalent. I loved Beth so much in Little Women. It seemed perfect that she died. She gave so much that she DIED. Do I really want to shove this at my own children? Has anyone struggled with this? Beautiful books full of sacrificing women and heroic absent men? Perhaps when I return to work and have something else to model for my kids it won't bother me quite so much.


On another note, here is some Frances-style Halloween. "It's a tiny newborn ghost and a bat who just ate a mosquito, because the mosquito bit the ghost and sucked the ghost's blood. That's why the mosquito is red. And the ghost has a bandaid for the bite. And I don't know who the person is."

And on another, totally unrelated note, here are some little things that I love right now, that perhaps you might love too:
1. My stick blender that we make frozen raspberry-banana-milk smoothies with every day, and also now that it is autumn, soups like this one. So good with a big dollop of yogurt swirled in.
2. Dr. Seuss books. I'm falling in love all over again, except this round is even sweeter because Frances sometimes reads and Gabriel repeats every fifth word she says and he gets very, very excited whenever anyone suggests it might be story time.
3. Getting ready for Halloween with Frances and Gabriel. We make a little bit of their froggy costumes every day out of felt bits. Frances put all the (mostly green) felt scraps into the salad spinner this morning and told us she making some salad. Sabrosa! (Thank you again Dan Zanes for all the new Spanish words in our house).
4. Storynory. Frances had a low fever yesterday and contentedly listened to Natasha read chapters 4 - 7 of Through the Looking Glass. I haven't explored the site much but there are many appealing stories for children, and that Natasha is some reader. Thank you Milena!

back on the blog...

Friends, it has been awhile since I've posted. Here are a few updates.

re: Elizabeth Mitchell
We went to a show! I traveled to Providence with my mom and the kids last weekend to visit our dear friends Jenny, Michael and Kit. It just so happened that she was playing a children's book festival in Jenny's neighborhood about an hour after our plane landed last Saturday. So we drove straight there from the airport and jostled into a little auditorium that eventually filled itself to the rafters with adorable messy children and their sympathetic-looking parents. It was one of the first times I've felt reassured - almost relieved - to be so clearly part of a demographic. (Yes! Messy can be adorable!) Gabriel was exhausted and wanted to nurse. Normally I would hesitate to lift my shirt for my enormous 18 month old toddler, given the sardine-style seating...but then my eyes rested on a mama in the next row who was nearly naked from the waist up, nursing her little one, and so I exhaled and figured it was okay. And of course it was.
I was near tears during the show, wanting to hold Frances' hands and snuggle Gabriel (Frances had to shake me off a few times). When Elizabeth Mitchell invited children to come and dance in front of the stage during the "rock and roll songs" Frances, in her enthusiasm, tore off and climbed onto the stage itself. I sat trapped in the middle of our row nursing the big boy, watching the whole thing, watching Miss Mitchell say no no no! unsafe unsafe! and directing her back down to the designated dance area, then watching Frances in the midst of many children dancing and gazing up at the musicians. She seemed so solitary somehow, so vulnerable in her fandom; I wanted to run up and hug her and squeeze her and dance with her, so she wouldn't be alone, but the funny thing is I feel certain she did not want me to be there with her. She wanted to learn the sign language for the words to "Peace Like a River" alongside the other big kids and move her arms like water and have it all for herself.

Re: Sleep
Yesterday Gabriel slept until 7:15!!! Today he woke up at 6:15. But still. This is SO MUCH BETTER than the past months I can't believe it. I think I just had to vent and complain in this semi-public forum in order for things to get better. Bedtime is now around 6:45 or 7, and the evenings are much sweeter, because we are able to read together and do bathtime together. For the most part the children seem to feel some heading-towards-sleep solidarity that is very satisfying for this mama to witness.

Re: Apple picking
We loved it so much. An apple cake, a bubbling pot of applesauce, and many many slices of apples and peanut butter later, Frances drew a picture that I thought was great - "this is me picking Ida Reds and putting them in a big bag":


What else? So much else. We had a lovely time in Providence. I felt utterly at home. My family lived in the same neighborhood where we were visiting when I was Frances' age (moved away when I was six)and I couldn't help indulging fantasies, wondering what life would have been like had we stayed, had I grown up there.
I hope I find a way to live in Annapolis without the deep-down sense of alienation that seems to color all our trips to beautiful communities with a bit of sadness for me. I wish I could simply enjoy these visits to Rhinebeck and Providence and Vermont and Lancaster - enjoy them without the quiet pouter in the back of my brain encouraging me to compare all I see (unfavorably) to my new home on the Chesapeake. But even with my private background bouts of adolescent grump, the shared foreground proved too delightful to be compromised. Jenny and Michael have two adorable dogs that kept the children busy and happy; we went to the zoo and freaked out over the giant anteaters; we frequented a playground that featured a graveyard of plastic toys left by neighborhood families, strewn about haphazardly and surrounded by the vivid newly fallen leaves. Perfect.





But no amount of plastic toys, cookies, big-hearted friends and attractive playground-goers can make up for a gaping absence. There is nothing in the world like being all together, and so we were very, very happy to be reunited with Mike at the end of our trip.