Mommy Woes

An issue that continually comes up on this motherhood journey is the "am I doing a good enough job?" question. It manifests in many ways. I belong to a Stay at home mom's (from here on out referred to as SAHM--yes, they actually use that acronym) group; and one of the other moms babysits Henry when I work. My work schedule is something I would in any other situation consider incredibly PART TIME. One full day/week and the odd day or two per month. Since I'm self-employed Henry also stays at the sitter's a few extra hours each week so I can catch up on paperwork, book-keeping, and the other odds and ends that keep me operating legally. Not that much, right? But inevitably, whenever I attend an outing with the SAH group, a bunch of moms will come up to me and say something along the lines of, "I don't know you, but I've met Henry! You must work a lot! Haha! I'm Marie, and unlike you, I love my child." Okay, no one's actually said that last sentence, but it feels implied. Once Henry's sitter had a friend over when I dropped him off with her. The friend (who I'd never met and didn't bother to introduce herself) exclaimed to the SITTER when we walked in, "Look how big Henry's gotten, Heather! He's so cute!" WTF? I stuck out my hand and said, "Hi, I'm the lady who watches Henry when Heather isn't able to." No, I didn't say that; but I wish I had. Partly because of my experiences with the SAHMs and for a variety of other reasons, I'm often wondering if I spend enough time with Henry and if the time we DO spend together is educational, stimulating, developmental-enhancing enough? In other words "quality".
Along these lines, a continuous battle in my head is "Should Henry watch TV?" And if so, how much TV? This issue first entered my radar before I even considered a child of my own, when I witnessed a friend shield her 6 month old daughter's eyes from a television. "What are you doing?" I asked. "She's not supposed to watch TV until she's at least two" friend replied. "Huh?" When I was a kid, I had literally NO restrictions on TV. I could watch what I wanted when I wanted, and at the time I thought that was F-ing awesome. I pitied my friends who could only watch certain shows for a maximum amount of time. I didn't have my own TV, and a lot of time I'd watch it WITH my parents; but I watched A LOT of it. I think I turned out fine, I never felt like I was missing out on something when I was growing up; but now I wonder: Was I missing out on something? Was there a better way for my parents and I to spend our time? (Please understand I hold no animosity towards my parents on this issue. Like most parents, they did the best they could with what they had. They both worked full-time (my dad often worked MORE than full-time) and had busy lives.) Besides relaxing with the boob tube, much of the time we spent together involved them multi-tasking. My mom grocery shopping with me in tow, my Dad doing errands with me in the car singing the "Annie" soundtrack. I never gave the situation much thought, although I always wanted my mom to be the field trip chaperone and the Brownie leader.
Despite a lack of what today might be considered "quality time" with my parents during my formative years, I have loads of great memories from childhood. Running errands with my Dad Saturday mornings was something I always looked forward to--still look forward to. To this day if I'm visiting my parents and my Dad says he's got to run to Costco on a Saturday morning, I beg to go with him. Also, I always felt very included in my parents lives: I went along with them on most trips and evenings out with friends. I always felt included, loved and important to them, even if they weren't spending hours a day playing with me.
Thoughts from others are very welcome. I'm looking at you, Anna (the only person I know for sure who reads this blog; yet she refuses to comment).

I'm With Jar-Jar?

I'm sure this is terribly unfashionable, but the whole Conan/Jay Leno debacle has made me like Jay Leno MORE. This is coming from someone whose watched Leno maybe twice and prefers Conan and Letterman. . .but honestly doesn't stay up late enough to watch any of them. Seriously, who stays up this late? Anyway, I can understand why Conan got upset. . .sort of. They wanted to move his show back a half hour and still call it "The Tonight Show", but that was messing with some kind of "TS" tradition, right? Okay, I get that. But I thought the backlash against Jay was sort of ridiculous and out of control. Why is it his fault that NBC (his boss) wanted to change his job? It's like if I'm a salesman and my boss gives me Tripp's clients, and I do terrible at it (Sorry, Conan. For the record, I think he did a great job hosting the "TS", but the ratings weren't there and that's how TV measures success) and my boss gives Tripp back some of his clients. . .would it make sense for me to be mad at Tripp? I just don't get it.
All of this being said, I love Conan. I TiVo'd his "Tonight Show" finale and was near tears when he gave his farewell speech. I mean, that whole "don't be cynical" message to the kids? Don't even get me started. But I think Jay's getting a bad rap. Prove me wrong, reader(s)!

Fighting a Cold

Does considering the Starbucks Doubleshot Energy + Coffee a health drink (it has B vitamins!) make me less of a health nut?

Movie Review 7: Could Have Been Pretentious, But Was Instead FANTASTIC.

Tripp and I watched Humpday a few nights ago. We'd read a review describing it as a campy independent film about two straight male friends deciding to make a gay porn flick together. Interesting, slightly taboo, could be good. Then it arrived, I read the description on the back of the netflix envelope, and I instantly felt deflated: It's actually about two straight male friends who decide to make an art film in which they have sex with each other. Uh oh. In my experience, "art", "independent" and "film" are three words that when used in the same sentence actually spell "pretentious bullshit". (Hell, Waitress was an independent film about an annoying small-town pie creator, and THAT was pretentious bullshit so I could only imagine what this would hold for us.) So, we trudged along not expecting much and oh how we were delightfully surprised. Simply put, this movie rocks! The two friends are both realistically flawed and adorable, and they do a great job accurately portraying the evolution of a friendship from college buds to grown-ups who love and respect each other despite/because of their different paths. The movie also examines the impact this "art project" has on the responsible friend's wife and avoids making her a "Betty Crocker cardboard cutout" (her words). Most important, the movie is fun. It's funny, it's sometimes uncomfortable, and it's thought-provoking. Can't recommend it highly enough. 11ty stars.

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From the Mouths of Babes (Actually, Alicia Keys)

As Tripp and several of my friends who've endured my (perhaps inappropriately) intimate queries about their personal beliefs regarding God's existence, the meaning of life, what happens after death, and various other heavies can testify (pun intended), I think about this kind of crap a lot.
This came out of the blue for me. For years, I quietly and without question attended Christmas and Easter Mass with my mother's Catholic family as well as my cousins' Bar and Bat Mitzvah and a handful of Seders. Then for a variety of reasons, many of which I'm sure I don't realize, I started thinking about the whole God thing more.
Is there a God? A lot of people seem to think so. I'd like there to be a God, at least the kind of God I imagine: a benevolent, wise, unconditionally loving and accepting grandfather-type who makes everything okay in the end (and who lets us reunite with our loved ones who died before us). But when I thought about it, I mean really thought about it, the idea didn't make sense. Where would God exist? Who or what created God? Isn't it more likely, doesn't it seem more reasonable, that there isn't a Heaven, that we don't have souls, that there is no purpose to life (beyond what we, ourselves, claim it to be), and that there is no loving, omniscient, bearded, bespeckled, and Birkenstocked grandfather in the sky (this is MY fantasy, dammit!)? And finally, don't we look back at the ancient Greeks and think, "Wow, that whole Zeus thing was kind of crazy"? Isn't it possible (probable?) that thousands of years from now our descendants will look back at us and think the same thing?
I struggle with this off and on. During the on's, I feel a deep sadness and fear. People (and animals, for that matter) die, or are tortured, hungry, sick, abused, trapped, and mistreated everyday. The idea that there is no purpose to suffering or that there is nothing better waiting on the other side haunts me. And I envy the faithful. Beneath all the dogma that some spout, those who truly believe have a sense of peace that I want.
Tripp, God love him (haha), is absolutely no help. He'll endure my repetitiveness as I ask the same questions and try to convince him of God's existence using the same arguments I've unsuccessfully used for years (if I convince Tripp, the biggest non-believer I know, then surely I'll believe). But it never works. And for that matter, Tripp seems completely unfazed by the idea of no higher power.
Then, something changed. A little DVD titled "Elmo's Christmas Countdown" came into my life. While trying to distract Henry from his favorite activity (removing all the knives from the dishwasher and licking them), I popped in this little treasure and found an unexpected sense of comfort from it. I only half paid attention to the story line: Something about an advent calendar being lost and resulting in the permanent cancellation of Christmas. But little Elmo and his celebrity friends have faith, which they simplistically explain as what you believe in even when it's hard to and even when it seems more likely that what you're believing isn't true. You hold onto it anyway, and who knows? Miracles can happen. I'm sure religious scholars throughout time have said the same thing in a more sophisticated way; but, as usual, I respond to the Sesame Street version of complicated topics. Faith. Belief that is not based on fact. What's wrong with having a little faith? Maybe there isn't a God or a heaven, but what's wrong with having faith that there is? In the end, Christmas wasn't cancelled forever even though Cookie Monster ate the advent calendar after the gang did all that hard work to find it. If that can happen, maybe there is a heaven and a grandfatherly God, too.

haha!

Go ahead, gay guy!

Thanks, Folks!

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Movie Review: Ain't Nothing Wrong With Esther

Watched Orphan last night. I had a strange response to this movie's previews: I was totally into it. This is strange because usually I don't get worked up to see movies AND because no one else in the universe shared my excitement. (A friend who frequently and purposefully watches awful movies with us wouldn't come near this thing.) Anyway, I was pumped: Was Esther a ghost or just a crazy kid? What IS wrong with Esther??? But due to finances, poor reviews, passing time, and a wandering attention span I forgot about poor Esther and her psycho orphan-hood.
Last night we got it in on Netflix, and let's just skip all the rigamarole and get down to brass tacks: This movie F-ing RULES. All of the female parts are played exquisitely (especially the roles of Max (the most adorable child in the universe) and Kate (baby mama)). There is a twist ending I wouldn't have seen coming if someone hadn't told me about it ahead of time. And Esther is freaking creepy! She even has a Russian accent!!! I say an awesome scary movie, if that's your bag. 24 stars.

More Deliciously Dangerous Than the Frappuccino?

The Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte. Holy GOD.