As Yet Untitled

Overheard

2011-10-18T07:00:00.001-04:00

"Oh, no! He's losing his manners!"

End Speed Limit

2011-10-17T13:45:00.004-04:00

Okay. Am I the only driver in the world who doesn't get the whole "End Speed Limit" thing? What is the point of telling me that the 25-mile-per-hour speed is ending, if you don't then tell me what speed limit is starting? How am I supposed to know what speed I should be driving, other than "Not 25MPH?"

Somebody, please enlighten me.

(I found the picture here.)

On Sharing

2011-10-16T14:12:00.007-04:00

My five-year-old is one of the most considerate people I've ever met -- which is saying something, I think, for a five-year-old boy. One of the ways this consideration manifests itself is that he doesn't want any sort of treat, be it a special outing, privilege, dessert, you name it, unless he knows his siblings will benefit too. "Let's just go out for ice cream, you and Mommy!"-style logic is totally lost on him; he would perceive that not as a treat, but a slight to his siblings. And he would probably say no.

This tendency has given us some issues since starting formal education, because the simple fact is that when you're not together all the time, and you're not always doing the same things at the same time, treats are not going to fall in an everyone-gets-something, all-the-time pattern.

"Can I have an extra lollipop for my sister?" He was not quite three, big sister had just started school, we were at the bank, and those earnest brown eyes peeping out from under his bright red hair just about did me in. We were still in the initial stages of "something for everyone," and I thought it was cute, and I gave him an extra lollipop and figured he'd eat it in the car.

He didn't. He saved it. As he then went on to try and split and save every food item he perceived as a treat, so he could give half to his sister. I let it go, thinking he'd outgrow it. He misses his sister, I thought. And they've never really been apart before. If I just don't make a big deal of it, this too shall pass.

It didn't. Fast-forward several months later, and my son was still trying to save half of everything so he could give it to his sister. By this time she had joined him in his efforts, and was trying to save and bring home half of any treat she got at school to share with him. It sounds cute. But cleaning up mashed-up cupcakes and sliced-up strawberries from the inside of the bookbag? Not so much.

So we all sat down and had a looong talk about different people getting different treats at different times, and how that's okay. How sometimes it's nice to think of your siblings, but sometimes it's okay just to have a treat for yourself. (Not words I ever, pre-children, envisioned myself having to say.) How the extra-lollipop-at-the-bank thing was fine, but the half-a-cupcake-in-the-backpack thing had got to stop.

And we were all, more or less, okay with it. My son's tendency will always be to save and share, including feeding me an extra cookie when pregnant or nursing "So the baby gets one," but that's okay. There are worse faults.

Fast forward to last night. It had been a long, fun-filled day and people were tired. There had been a trip to the zoo with Daddy, a women's tea at church where my daughter and I danced a setting of Psalm 78:4 with my mom, and just lots of fun and happiness. We were about full up on fun and happiness, to be precise. Daddy had given the boys their bath and they came downstairs while big sister was having hers, to find me clandestinely finishing off the caramels Grandma and Grandpa brought on their last visit. So both boys had a caramel, and big sister finished up her bath, and I was changing the baby as they trooped up to bed when all of a sudden it hit my son that there were no more caramels, and big sister didn't get one.

Meltdown.

Over his screams and sobs as I was dressing the baby, I called to my husband something along the lines of it's fine, she had plenty of treats at the women's tea, so tell him it all comes out even for the day. Or something like that. Problem was, my son heard me.

"You went to a tea party? And you didn't bring me?" (I should probably mention that my son loves tea parties.)

And then I had one of those moments where I say something, and as I'm saying it, it's like I can see the little cartoon bubble of words coming out of my mouth as I'm simultaneously thinking, really? You said that? You were that dumb? Wow.

"It was a women's tea," the words appeared in the cartoon bubble. "Just for girls. You couldn't come because you're a boy."

It's been over nineteen hours, and I still cannot believe I said that to my son.

He couldn't believe it, either. The look on his face was the kind of look you expect when something incomprehensible happens--gravity ceases to exist, or the sun turns into a marshmallow. He's encountered his fair share of inequality in his life, (always doing his best, can-I-have-an-extra-lollipop part to counter it) but he has never, never been told he could not do something because he's a boy.

(Actually, that's not quite true. There's a little girl in his dance class who has told him over and over and over again that boys don't dance, but Mommy has always assured him that's bunk, and that he can dance if he wants to. This same Mommy with the cartoon-bubble gender discrimination last night. Doom, doom.)

He was crying the kind of crying that left unchecked will make him throw up. He was heartbroken. And I was exhausted, needing to put four kids to bed, and really not looking forward to whatever was looming in the wake of my stupid words. I'm not generally a fan of parenting manuals--that's another whole post--but Faber and Mazlish's How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & So Kids Will Talk (which I read many, many years before becoming a parent) is a shining exception. One meltdown-taming strategy they suggest is giving your child his wishes in fantasy, and that's the parenting lifeline God threw me last night.

"We should have a tea party for mommies and boys," I said, picking him up.

"Y-y-yeah," he sobbed into my shoulder.

"And we could drink tea. Lots of tea."

"Lots of tea," he echoed, his shoulders shaking.

"And we could eat cookies. And gummy worms. And popcorn."

He was quiet, his shoulders still heaving.

"I don't like Swedish fish," he said after a moment. And I knew we were going to be all right.

"No Swedish fish," I said, and helped him climb up into his bed. "Just tea. And maybe a mint chocolate chip ice cream cake."

"Yeah," he sniffed. Then a pause.

"We should eat some healthy food before we eat all that junk," he offered, his head on the pillow.

"Good idea. How about we have some vegetables?"

"I don't like vegetables. I like pasta. Oh, but I do like cauliflower."

(What is it with my boys and cruciferous vegetables lately?)

"All right then," I said, stroking his hair. "We'll have cauliflower."

In the space of a few breaths he was asleep, dreaming, no doubt, of a world where everyone goes to tea, everyone has a treat, and absolutely no one is ever, ever left out.

Pow, Pow, Pow!

2011-10-14T13:35:00.003-04:00

That's the sound of the baby, hitting milestones left, right, and center. All of a sudden we have two teeth. We put everything into our mouths. We roll like we're singing our favorite Easter song.

But I'm finding, as we travel this milestone-ridden part of the path, my favorites aren't necessarily the ones that come with pre-printed stickers in baby books and calendars. A couple of days ago she was sitting in her Bumbo seat on the table (I know, I know, no Bumbo on the table -- but she had like five people watching her, so I think she was fine) and all of a sudden she figured out that if she thumped her foot on the table, it made a sound.

And she was delighted. It kept her busy for the longest time: thump, thump, thump. Smile, laugh. Thump, thump, thump. Then she somehow got her foot turned in her sleeper just enough that she was banging a snap against the table, and the new sound was even better than the original.

There she sat, kicking and thumping away, totally pleased with herself. And we were all pleased, too.

At Least We Have Our Priorities Straight

2011-10-13T08:41:00.001-04:00

My daughter has taken to wearing her hair in increasingly outlandish and unpredictable fashions, always claiming that each is "the latest style."

"You mean that's the latest style in second grade?" I always ask. "Or did you just make it up?"

Invariably, "I made it up."

Today we had hair from one side of our head pulled back around to the other side and clipped up high with a little butterfly clip. The effect was very asymmetrical and avant-garde, and I commented upon it.

"That's a very interesting hairstyle," I said, noncommittally.

"I know," she replied airily, tossing the free-flowing bits over her shoulder with a stylized hand flip.

"The beauty salons may want me," she continued as she strutted away. Then she called back over her shoulder.

"But I am going to be a missionary."

Astounding

2011-10-12T12:42:00.003-04:00

Scene: A parking lot

Players: Mother (me), Toddler (mine), Baby (also mine), Random Woman (not mine).

The Mother is trying to hustle Toddler inside and out of the rain. Baby is riding on Mother's hip in a pouch sling, grabbing anything she can get her hands on. Toddler spots Random Woman, also crossing the parking lot.

Toddler: Look, Mommy! A lady with no babies!!!

(Amazing, isn't it? I'm not sure he's previously processed that there are such things, ladies without babies. It confounds the mind.)

Math

2011-10-11T16:13:00.001-04:00

Caramel apples+small children+unseasonably warm weather=sticky, sticky mess.

Just in case you were wondering.

Actually

2011-10-09T14:38:00.002-04:00

It's "guacamole."

Not "Whack-a-Moley."

But I knew what you meant. And I doubt Daddy has been sneaking it into your peanut butter, regardless.

A Million Moms

2011-10-08T14:19:00.005-04:00

Today's detour on the parenting journey took us to the doctor's office, where my six-year-old was seen for a double ear infection. I've been thinking about her turning seven lately, and we'd spent the morning getting out all her old baby clothes so they can be handed down to Current Baby, and then she just looked so woebegone all curled up in the doctor's chair -- wearing the pretty pink shirt she'd put on earlier when the day's big activity was going to be playing at a friend's house, not going to the doctor.

I just wanted to pick her up and hold her.

Then she turns to me, apropos of nothing, and announces: "Sometimes I wish I had a million moms all just like you. You're such a good mom."

How does one respond to such a statement? I blinked a few times, and then stammered something along the lines of "Well, I do try...."

"You don't just try," she continued. "You do it. You're a really good mom."

And she was so matter-of-fact about it. I think the break along that particular fault line in my heart was actually audible.

I'm tucking this one away to pull out again someday when she's screaming that she hates me and I've ruined her life. Today, all pale and sick and with two ear infections, it was the most obvious thing in the world to her that her mother is a good mom.

Life is good.

Not Sure What I Think About That

2011-10-06T13:14:00.005-04:00

So I promised my son that I would help him build his Lego Imperial V-Wing Starfighter today, which he picked out and bought yesterday with a gift card that he received for his birthday. (In case you're doing the math, Lego+Star Wars+birthday+gift card+picking out your own present=very, very excited little boy.)

I decided we would attempt this while the broccoli-loving toddler was napping, even though it meant I would be building one-handed while nursing the baby...because baby and toddler will not sleep at the same time, no matter what, so baby usually nurses the entire time toddler is napping, in order to ensure enough relative quiet that toddler will, in fact, nap.

I was a little nervous about this plan. I like Legos and all, but suffice it to say that Building Lego Creations with Alacrity is never going to be a prize for which I'm shortlisted. Add to this the fact that the Imperial V-Wing Starfighter is rated for ages 7-12, and I'm pretty sure my abilities fall below that benchmark.

However. Bouncing little boy. Very excited. Mama's got to try.

On the very first page of the instruction manual, I made a discovery: Lego directions have gotten easier since I was a kid. Not only do they show you where every piece goes, as I remember, but at the top of each page is a little inset showing you which pieces you'll be adding for each step. (And the fact that I have a five-year-old boy, and am just now making this discovery, shows how much Daddy has been building and assembling Legos for these past however many years.)

I wasn't quite sure what I thought about that. I mean, isn't half the fun of building something from Lego directions trying to make sure you got each new piece on every step? It's like those "What's Different?" pictures in Highlights--you have to pay attention and make sure you don't miss anything. And then all the random pieces at the end, where you go "Huh--guess I missed all of those, didn't I?" (Like I said, never going to be shortlisted for the Building with Legos prize.)

All of that kind of falls by the wayside when you start out by being told what's different, and what you're going to need, don't you think?

But anyway, I ended up being grateful for the little extra-help insets, as I was nursing the baby and trying to assemble the ship and watching my son run laps around the playroom going "Vroom!" and "Pow!" and occasionally "This is a little bit trickier than I thought it would be" or "Doesn't that look like our boomerang that's stuck in the neighbor's tree?"

So, thirtysomething mothers-of-four who build Legos while nursing babies might not have been the chief target demographic behind the new easier directions, but I, for one, ended up being glad to have them. Thanks, Lego.

Whose Two-Year-Old...

2011-10-05T16:25:00.004-04:00

...was standing in the middle of the YMCA parking lot today, yelling "I don't want an a-bar!" (Granola bar.) "I want bloccoli!"

Yup, that would be mine.

What can I say? The kid likes broccoli.

And We Found Them

2011-10-03T13:19:00.007-04:00

Not, alas, in time for school...but at least we found them.

(They weren't under the refrigerator.)

I Hate Library Books

2011-10-02T19:44:00.003-04:00

Okay, I don't really hate library books. Obviously. But when it's 7:45 at night and I have four children to bathe and put to bed and I've moved both couches, the piano, two bunk beds, and all the toy shelves looking for missing library books, they're not all that high on my list of favorite things. Why do we need library books, anyway? Why can't we just read the books we have??

I know, I know. My children are privileged -- they were born into a world of books; they will never remember their first book. The library is a blessing. I am blessed that they have the opportunity to read even more books, and for free. Peace, love, reading.

Grrr.

(The absolute kicker is, one of the missing library books is a book that we already own. And I know where our copy is. Do you think if I sent that one back in, anyone would notice?)

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to move the refrigerator.

The Second Grade Continents Song

2011-09-18T09:06:00.004-04:00

(Sung, at least vaguely, to the tune of "Yankee Doodle.")

North America, South America, Asia, and Australia

Africa, Antarctica, the only "E" is Europe!

Seven continents of the earth

Seven great big places

God has made them with His might

And He rules all the races!

Sing it again, faster and louder. Sing it again, FASTER and LOUDER. Teach it to all your siblings. Repeat until Mommy has a headache.

On the plus side, no one in this family--or, perhaps, this entire neighborhood--will ever forget the continents.

(Image found here.)

And We're Back!

2011-09-16T08:19:00.011-04:00

So last night I decided I should start blogging again.

It was one of those nights--and we've had a lot of "those nights" around here lately. The baby wasn't sleeping (the baby doesn't sleep, as a general rule) and the four-year-old had a high fever, and I couldn't fall asleep (even when the baby finally did) without first seeing that number on the thermometer coming back down into this stratosphere.

So I was sitting up late and Googling around to see if my latest article had been published yet (it hadn't) and one of my old blog posts came up under the search results. I read it, and then I read another, and then another, and before I knew it I was laughing and crying at all the stories, all the wonderful things I've forgotten in the intervening two years. The books we read. The prayers we prayed. Even the times we were sick. And I thought, I should start blogging again, so I have some record of these memories some day when I am in my dotage.

As a quick catch-up: when we last left off in the Chronicles of Elrena, we had a four-year-old, a two-year-old, and a baby. Now, two years later, we have a four-year-old, a two-year-old, and a baby, which really makes it seem like we are getting nowhere fast, until you figure in the fact that we also have a six-year-old now, and the current baby is a new addition.

This morning I was nursing Current Baby and my four-year-old was in the next room, talking to his imaginary friends. (Actually, I think they're more his big sister's imaginary friends, but he likes to keep them entertained while she's away at school.) I was listening to him chatter away about Nintendo and dragons and robots, all the things that matter to him, when I heard him pause for a moment and then say, "I really wish my parents were..."

I perked up. A window into the mind of my son! What does he wish his parents really were? Rich? Superheroes? Willing to let him eat candy all day long? All sorts of possibilities were playing out in my mind, until I heard him finish the sentence. The deep desire of my son's heart is that his parents would be...

"...thirty-nine."

What? Where on earth did that one come from?

"You know, in six years we will be thirty-nine," I called to my son, thinking how cool it was that in only six short years I could grant him this (inexplicable) wish.

"And how old will I be?" He called back.

"You'll be ten going on eleven."

"And how old will Big Sister be?"

"She'll be...almost thirteen."

And then I had to stop and breathe for a minute. Thirty nine is not that much older than thirty three, but almost thirteen is way, way, way older than almost seven. I looked down at Current Baby happily nursing away, and I stroked her chubby foot and held her toes up to my lips and kissed them, quick before they're all grown up and wearing high heels. Or, you know, Crocs. Whatever.

And that is why I am restarting the blog.

New Blog, New Book, New Baby!

2009-05-16T07:03:00.000-04:00

And that pretty much sums it up.

Although I no longer maintain this blog, I'm now writing for Her.meneutics, the Christianity Today blog for women. Stop by and say hi!

My next book, a short story collection titled This Crowded Night, is forthcoming from DreamSeeker Books. Here's the blurb:

An unknown name, a faraway place, a forgotten voice. The stories of the women in the New Testament are barely fragments, yet once they were as rich and full as the lives of the women who lived them.

Although their voices have been stilled for millennia, their stories are still our stories, their hopes and dreams and fears our own. Love, lust, frustration, and anger, fear and shame and faith...all play out against the backdrop of a world where women’s voices, women’s lives, were constantly denigrated.

A cripple who fears her sins have brought about her paralysis. A teenage girl living on the streets. A mother who only has eyes for her son, a woman whose lover is not her husband. Their stories and others show us the world of these women through their own eyes, as each one ultimately has her life changed -- for better or worse -- through an encounter with Christ.

And last but definitely not least, my new baby has arrived! You can read a bit of his birth story here.

I hope all my readers are well!

Magnificat

2008-12-16T11:27:00.002-05:00

I'm popping back up just for a minute here, to post a video of a dance I did at church last Sunday. I'm writing my next column for Literary Mama on the Magnificat, so I thought it might be fun to share this as well!

On Hiatus

2008-10-03T07:27:00.001-04:00

I'm taking a bit of a leave of absence from the blog, while I work on some other projects.

Namely:

I'll still be writing my regular column over at Literary Mama, and I'll be posting Mama, PhD events and other writing-related news on my website. Just taking a break from the blog.

I have six different Mama, PhD events scheduled for the month of October, and I'm in the process of scheduling November, so hopefully I'll get the chance to see some of you there!

A Bedtime Story

2008-10-02T07:17:00.000-04:00

So my daughter has been falling asleep to the same story, every night now for longer than I can remember. (This is the story that comes after the reading of books and the nursing of baby brother and the standing on of heads, etc.)

It started as a retelling of some duck book -- Little Duck Lost? The Fuzzy Little Duckling? Little Quack's Hide-and-Seek? -- there are so many books about lost ducks, it's hard to keep them all straight. And then the story kind of merged, to have elements of each.

And then it took on a life of its own.

I'm not saying this is great writing -- much of the details have been added by my daughter, which is not to say that she's not a great writer, only that she's three -- but it's become a family tradition. It evolved to a point where she was apparently satisfied with it, and there it has stayed.

I know this story like I know the Nicene Creed at this point, and at night I close my eyes and listen to the rhythm of the words while my daughter, in true liturgical fashion, calls out her responses. It's no creed, our little duck story -- for one, it lacks the beauty of the language, and, well, the whole theological underpinning -- but nevertheless, here it is:

The Story of the Mama Duck and the Baby Duck

Once upon a time, there was a mama duck and a baby duck. And one day, they decided to play hide-and-seek. So the mama duck said you hide, and I'll try to find you. And she covered her eyes and counted one...two...three...four...five! Ready or not, here I come! And she swam off to look for her little baby duck.

She swam and she swam through the reeds and the tall grasses that grew alongside of the pond, and as she swam she called out: "Baby duck! Baby duck! Where oh where is my little baby duck?" But there was no answer. So the mama duck swam on.

She swam and she swam until she came to where some frogs were resting on their lily pads, eating some grapes.

"Little frogs! Little frogs!" called the mama duck. "Have you seen my little baby duck?"

And the frogs said, "Ribbit, ribbit. No! We have not seen your little baby duck. Would you care for a grape?"

"Oh, no thank you," said the mama duck. "I am looking for my little baby duck."

"Perhaps you should ask the fish," said the frogs.

"Thank you," said the mama duck. "I will try that."

And so she swam off, looking for her little baby duck.

She swam and she swam until she came to where the fish were leaping and darting through the water, eating some blueberries.

"Little fish! Little fish!" called the mama duck. "Have you seen my little baby duck?"

And the fish said, "Splash, splash. No! We have not seen your little baby duck. Would you care for a blueberry?"

"Oh, no thank you," said the mama duck. "I am looking for my little baby duck."

"Perhaps you should ask the birds," said the fish.

"Thank you," said the mama duck. "I will try that."

And so she swam off, looking for her little baby duck.

She swam and she swam until she came to where the birds were nesting in the trees, eating some apples, and some oranges.

"Little birds! Little birds!" called the mama duck. "Have you seen my little baby duck?"

And the birds said, "Tweet, tweet. No! We have not seen your little baby duck. Would you care for an apple, or perhaps a slice of orange?"

"Oh, no thank you," said the mama duck. "I am looking for my little baby duck."

And she swam off, looking for her little baby duck.

She swam and she swam until she made it all the way back home to her nest. And she swam up to her nest, and she peeked inside, and...what do you think she saw?

It was her little baby duck, eating some toast!

And the mama duck scooped the baby duck up and said "Oh, my little baby duck! I am so happy I found you!"

And the baby duck said "Quack!"

And the mama duck said "Oh, my little baby duck! I love you so much!"

And the baby duck said "Quack!"

So the mama duck and the baby duck cuddled up together and had some toast. And then they snuggled in tight, and went to sleep.

The end.

(I found the baby duckling picture here, isn't it cute?)

Guest Blogging for Cindy Green

2008-10-01T11:09:00.003-04:00

Caroline and I are guest blogging today for romance writer Cindy Green, on the topic of Mama, PhD and book publicity. Here's an excerpt:

"So you’ve written the book. You’ve gotten an offer, you’ve signed the contract, you’ve edited yourself cross-eyed. Now all you have to do is wait for publication day.

While you’re waiting, this is the perfect time to start thinking about publicity—the bridge that will span the gap between you and your readers, the tool that will bring your book to your buyers. Here are some tips to get you started:

1. Create a website for your book, whether you buy a new domain specifically for the book, or simply make a dedicated page on your author website. (What? You don’t have an author website? Stop reading this, and go make one. Now!)"

Click here to read the rest!

MomCentral Spot Shot Blog Tour

2008-09-30T07:03:00.000-04:00

There's nothing like getting a package in the mail, is there? My children get all excited, dropping whatever they're doing and running to the door, and then there are the cries of "Open it! Open it, mama!" (And, on the occasions I have trouble opening said package fast enough, "Get a knife! A big knife!")

You gotta wonder what our neighbors think about us.

Anyway, so the other day we got a package and after all the bouncing and squealing and yelling for knives, I finally got it open and realized it was a bottle of Spot Shot from MomCentral, since I'd signed up to do the tour. Cool, I thought, and pulled it out.

But the box wasn't empty. Reaching inside, I also pulled out -- is this a carpet square? Paintbrushes? A little bottle marked "chocolate"? What on earth....

So I read the directions, also enclosed. The chocolate, the paintbrush, and the square of carpet were there for me to create my own stain, so I could observe how well Spot Shot cleans them up.

You have got to be kidding me. I live in a house with two preschoolers and two cats. And a husband, for that matter. Stains? I got yer stains right here.

I didn't paint the carpet square with the chocolate (I gave the paintbrushes to my children, and threw the chocolate away after, disappointingly, I noticed that it was marked "Not for Consumption"). So I can't vouch for how well Spot Shot works on non-consumable chocolate -- but for real stains? On a real carpet? Works like a charm.

(Just one note to the folks at WD-40: the next time you want to send me some chocolate to create a stain? Make it consumable chocolate. Better yet, make it Godiva.)

Happy Birthday, Baby!

2008-09-28T21:09:00.004-04:00

My little boy is two years old today -- and so far, so good with the "terrible twos" thing. Then again, we've been at this less than 24 hours.

I love two-year-olds, actually -- it's so fun to see them at this stage, really starting to come into their own, with so many glimpses of the little people they're becoming. My own little guy is just so yummy (ask him -- he'll tell you: "I'm so nummy!") that if I had the power, I would almost want to press pause and just hold him here for a little bit. But if this parenting gig has taught me anything, it's that -- so far -- the best is always yet to come. It just keeps getting better.

And I can't wait to see where the future is going to take you, baby. Happy birthday!

Book List

2008-09-19T07:57:00.001-04:00

It's been a while since I've done a book list, so I thought that might be kind of fun.

Every night, my husband reads to my daughter while I nurse my son. It sounds all lovely and idyllic, and sometimes it is, but other times it's "Read this book first!" "No dis buk fust!" "No this book!" and etc., and then it's fighting over who sits where and next to whom, and then insisting on nursing and being able to see the pictures at the same time, and on and on and on.

Anyway. It's idyllic some of the time.

When my husband finishes reading, he drops the book on the floor next to the bed before there can be any other requests, and I quick snap off the light. And there the books lay, (I thought it was "lie" but my husband says "lay," and he's usually right about these sorts of things) until I pick them up. It's amazing how fast they amass.

Here, from the past -- week? maybe a smidge more? -- a list of the books lying -- laying? -- next to the bed:

Dump Truck
Hello Kitty Hello Shapes
Winnie-the-Pooh Opposites (I couldn't find the link for this exact one, out of all the books with the exact same name!)
First Tomato
The Very Hungry Caterpillar
Joshua by the Sea
Maisy's Morning on the Farm
Little Cricket's Song
Dinosaurs Galore!
The Cat in the Hat
Curious George and the Birthday Surprise
Pooh's First Clock
The Tale of Peter Rabbit
Buy Some Mung Beans, Mama! (This is entirely in Chinese, and that's the only link I could find -- we kind of make it up based on the pictures)
Isabella Abnormella and the Very, Very Finicky Queen of Trouble (autographed)
Olivia
Curious George Goes to a Costume Party
Baa Baa Black Sheep (I have strong feelings about this book upon which I will not enumerate -- suffice it to say, my children do not share my feelings, and so we read it often)
Stranger in the Woods
A World of Wonders: Geographic Travels in Verse and Rhyme
Curious George in the Snow
The Itsy Bitsy Spider (ibid on my note for Baa Baa Black Sheep)
Meet Biscuit
Maisy's Big Flap Book

And then, we (meaning I) picked them all up and put them away! Goodnight children, everywhere.

MomCentral Ringling Brothers Blog Tour

2008-09-17T20:10:00.006-04:00

Remember my birthday? The one I spent lying on the couch drinking pedialyte, while my whole entire family went to the circus -- my erstwhile birthday present -- without me?

Yeah. Well.

It's been months, and my children are still talking about the circus: Remember when we went to the circus? With grandma and grandpa and daddy? Remember when we went to the circus with grandma and grandpa and daddy? And...and then a pause, a confused look. Where were you? they seem to be asking.

I was lying on the couch, drinking pedialyte, I say.

It happens.

MomCentral is doing a blog tour for Ringling Brothers right now, and participating bloggers get to receive a souvenir brochure, a souvenir DVD, and a whole bunch of bright red clown noses. Sign me up! I said. And actually, I already have the souvenir brochure. And the souvenir DVD. Because my family brought them back to me, after they went to the circus. Without me. While I spent the day lying on the couch drinking pedialyte. (We keep coming back to that, somehow.)

Our circus package arrived in the mail, and the children tore into it. The circus, mama! The circus! Remember when we went to the circus? With grandma and grandpa and daddy? Remember when we went to the circus with grandma and grandpa and daddy? And...and then the pause, the confused look. Where were you?

I won't say it again, we all know where I was by this time.

So we looked at the brochure and watched the DVD and played with the clown noses -- which took me forever to figure out how to work, and you wouldn't think they'd be that hard, right? I mean, come on: plastic clown noses. This doesn't exactly require a graduate degree. Yet, graduate degree notwithstanding, I couldn't figure them out. But eventually I did. And all were happy.

I have to say, as someone who didn't get to go to the circus, the DVD is a lot of fun. And the part about the circus train, where performers and animals actually live -- fascinating. I could have watched the train segment several times over, it was that interesting, were it not for the chorus of little voices in the background: The circus! Remember when we went to the circus? With grandma and grandpa and daddy? Remember when we went to the circus with grandma and grandpa and daddy? And.... Where were you?

Just can't get away from it.

Ringling Brothers is most likely coming to a town near you -- on the cool train -- and if, unlike me, you're lucky enough to decide to go and not coming down with the barfing bug, I have a 20% off discount code you can use! Actually, you can use the code regardless of whether or not you come down with the barfing bug, so I suppose that's neither here nor there.

The tour schedule is:

Indianapolis, IN - Sept. 4-7, 2008
Kansas City, MO - Sept. 10-14, 2008
Grand Rapids, MI - Sept. 18-21, 2008
Denver, CO - Oct. 2-13, 2008
Boston, MA – Oct. 8-13, 2008
Cleveland, OH - Oct. 24 - Nov. 2
Chicago, IL - Nov. 6 - 30, 2008
St. Louis, MO - Nov. 6-9, 2008
Auburn Hills, MI - Nov. 12 - 16, 2008
Highland Heights, KY - Feb 27 - Mar. 1, 2009
Cincinnati, OH - Mar. 4 - 8, 2008

And the code is MCC, redeemable online. Have fun!

MomCentral Noodleboro Blog Tour

2008-09-15T19:53:00.006-04:00

We like board games around here. My husband proposed to me over a game of Scrabble, my daughter is now quite the aficionado of games like Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, and of course, Candy Land.

So when MomCentral sent out a call for bloggers to review Hasboro's latest line of games intended to help teach preschoolers manners, I signed right up.

Our Noodleboro game, the Learning about Manners Picnic Basket Game, arrived on a not-so-good day. You know, the kind when everyone (including me) is crying "When is Daddy going to be home?" and it's only 8:00 in the morning. So when the package from MomCentral arrived in the mail, we ripped it open right away.

I didn't attempt the game -- board games with my son "helping" aren't any fun for my daughter or for me, or for him, actually -- but the Noodleboro games also come with a storybook and a CD. So we opened the book, and popped in the CD.

I had mixed feelings about the book and the CD, but not my daughter. She loved them. She memorized them. She became particularly attached to the "bad guys" in the story, and their catchy, bad-guy song.

Hasboro would do well to take a page out of Big Idea's book with the debacle of The Bunny Song.

Suffice it to say my husband got home that night to be greeted by a little girl flying at him yelling, "That's mine! Give it back! Gimmie gimmie gimmie gimmie gimmie!"

"To what do I owe this wonderful display of good manners?" my husband asked.

"To the new game we got today," I said. "The one that was supposed to teach manners."

"Gimmie gimmie gimmie!" yelled my daughter.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

The game itself, once we got to play, was fun -- although I wasn't sure the "teaching manners" part was all that brilliantly executed. It basically consists of making players say "please" and "thank you" as they take their turns, and really, couldn't you do that with any game? Beyond that, though, it's a matching game, which my daughter loves, and it has a really cool plastic picnic basket that you can either use to play the game, or keep out for various other picnic-type play, as my daughter chose to do.

The end result? She loves Noodleboro. She's read the book and listened to the CD so many times my son has it memorized, and we play Noodleboro just about every day. She's even appended the bad-guy song, sung to Freres-Jacques, to the grace she sings at every meal to the same tune. This is how it goes:

Thank you Jesus
Thank you Jesus
For this food
For this food
You are very good to me
You are very good to me
Thank you, God
Thank you, God

and then, much, much louder

Crabby grabby!
Crabby grabby!
Give me some!
That's my crumb!
Ants don't ever ask nice
They just grab the biggest slice
Give me that!
Give me that!

And at the end of all of this, she adds a rousing "Amen!" which my son then echoes.

I don't know whether to laugh or to cry.

But for better or for worse, I have visited Noodleboro upon our family. I'm not sure about its ability to help out in the manners department, but for sheer entertainment value, it's a definite win.

Mom Central is raffling off 200 Noodleboro games; sign up through the link below to enter to win! http://www.zoomerang.com/Survey/?p=WEB2285CWRZFAU

Something to Read

2008-09-06T16:27:00.002-04:00

My good friend Tara Koup has a piece in the current issue of Metrokids that's both funny and poignant. Check out A Jealous Mom's Confession!

(And the mom in the piece with the almost-four-year-old who still naps? Yep, that would be me...although sadly it's not for lack of sugar, or because we listen to lots of classical music!)

For Your Own Good

2008-09-05T19:25:00.002-04:00

My daughter has discovered the joys of books on tape -- or CDs -- specifically, the read-along sort where you can follow along in a book while you listen to the story. So when I saw the Curious George Complete Adventures anthology and CD set, I had to get it for her. I couldn't even wait until her birthday.

We are still pretty much obsessed with George around here, (I think at last count we had 21 George books? And all of the PBS Curious George DVDs?) but most of our George consumption has been of the new George (in all his various incarnations -- it's fun to see how George changes through time). So I was a little hesitant about introducing her to George, the original. The pipe-smoking doesn't bother me, even though I know it gets a lot of other people upset -- but the man with the yellow hat isn't quite so friendly in the opening book what with basically kidnapping George and all, and there's the bit with calling the fire department, and oh yeah did I mention George goes to prison? "We will have to shut you up," George is told, "where you can't do any more harm."

My daughter, however, doesn't seem all that upset by the book. On the contrary. The other morning, as my son was tumbling through the day leaving the usual tide of destruction in his wake, I suddenly saw her with her hand on his arm, gently but firmly marching him into her room.

"Little buddy," she said firmly but not unkindly. "I will have to shut you up where you can't do any more harm."

And it was so hard not to laugh, because sometimes, you know, I feel the exact same way. And he was marching along with this big old smile on his face, all sure, whatever, big sister! Happily trotting off to be shut up in her room.

I rescued him, of course, and my daughter and I had a little chat, and all's well that ends well, I guess, until she tries to call the fire department.

Mama, PhD MotherTalk Blog Tour, The Wrap-Up

2008-09-04T19:07:00.021-04:00

I've got a bunch of links to post here, so bear with me! Thank you all so much to everyone who participated, commented, or otherwise played along at home -- I loved getting to read your thoughts about the book.

First up, Black Belt Mama gave Mama, PhD a black belt! I'm as excited as if I, myself, actually suddenly possessed advanced martial arts prowess. In addition to the black belt, Black Belt Mama writes:

"My story is not unusual. In Mama PhD: Women Write about Motherhood and Academic Life, I read essay after essay of similar experiences and feelings toward the wonderful world of higher education. In this collection of essays, women explore their role in educational institutions and their role as mothers. Overwhelmingly, the two don't seem to mix. Many of these writers have made it work, but it hasn't been easy. Others put their career first and got tenure, but have to give up the dream of having children. Most comment that the way colleges and universities are set up, as patriarchies, there is no room for women pursuing children, just women pursuing tenure. Scholarship. publications, and teaching duties are the only measurement for success."

21st Centuty Mom says:

"I sort of skipped around in the book both reveling in and mourning the experiences of the almost 40 well educated, articulate, very intelligent women who contributed essays. To a woman they do what we all do - they prioritize their lives, splitting their time between work, family and self and finding the best possible ways to leverage the places where they intersect."

Crunchy Granola says:

"The collection is a smart, funny-sad-crazy making-amazing-wonderful set of pieces that had me nodding as I read. The authors come from a variety of fields, and a range of institutions. This collection is well-worth reading for anyone considering an academic career, and also for any administrator mentoring faculty."

Tales from the Diaper Pail writes:

"The perspectives presented in this book once again unearth a theme that is salient in pieces written by mothers who work outside the home– the pull between worlds and the pressure to, as one writer expressed, 'perform childlessness.' The stories often draw from humor, sometimes dark, to highlight themes of loss and triumph through various stages of the academic path. Several themes resurface - the mind-body schism that seems even more poignant in an academic career as well as the feeling of 'never enoughness'. The stories are well-written and at times, heartbreaking...Although these pieces are particularly relevant to mothers pursuing or in academic professions, I found themes through the book that were pertinent to women in all professions, where the pull to 'perform childlessness' is quite real. "

Third Culture Mama says:

"We, professors included, never discussed motherhod beyond our right to be defined as more than just mothers or potential mothers, to be defined beyond the family unit. Of course I didn’t notice any of the latter until I got pregnant. Mama, PhD hit so close to home."

Mama(e) in Translation writes:

"And now comes the really hard question: how can I simply review a book in which I could have been published, but wasn't? So, there is only one thing to do, and I hope you (or the folks at Mother Talk who selected me as a reviewer) don't mind -- I just have to share my contribution. Here, and now, since I was unable to post it on the day of my dissertation defense the way I had dreamed about."

(And might I add: her post is beautiful and well worth reading, beyond the review. Go on, go read!)

Review Planet says:

"I'm in love with the new book Mama, Ph.D. It’s a collection of stories from academic mamas who lay bare their souls about the hard times, the good parts, the special challenges (pumping in a maintenance closet — and then the dean walks in!), and why it’s all worthwhile. I think it’s also a good casebook of the situation today in many departments, and I hope that it will be used by someone or somegroup to start making changes. I hope."

Writing in the Mountains says:

"Mama Ph.D. features essays by an amazing set of women, mothers and academics exploring blending family life with the academic in different personal situations, but with generally the same outcome. The academic is not particularly accommodating to mothers in general and mothers with young children in specific. In reading this book, it is painfully clear that something needs to be done to close the inequality gap and open up opportunities for fair pay, support in childcare and plain respect."

Everyday Stranger writes:

"Mama Ph.D., is a collection of stories by women who had children while in graduate school or while studying for their doctorate. It was well-written and engaging, and more than once I wanted to raise my fist in the air and shout "I know where you are!" (I wanted to say "Amen, sister", but am aware of the idiocy in further contributing to stereotypes. Still, first thoughts and all that.) "

And finally, Viva La Feminista wraps it up with this:

"That said, most of the essays are hopeful. Mama PhDs who thought that the flexible schedule of an academic would make motherhood easier than for someone with a 9-5 job but soon realized that the pressure to write a book and change diapers was far different. Mama PhDs who worried endlessly that the time they spent away from their children and the travel required made them bad mamas only to have their children tell them otherwise. Mama PhD is heart wrenching and heartwarming at the same time. It shows how far we have to go as a society to truly value families and the contributions of working moms."

Two Pictures

2008-09-02T19:58:00.005-04:00

I've been away from all the MotherTalk Mama, PhD blogging for a bit, because we've been traveling. Rather than tell the story of our trip in words, here are two pictures:

My son's shirt, the morning of our first travel day:

My son's shirt, that evening:

Any questions?!

Mama, PhD MotherTalk Blog Tour, Day 9

2008-08-26T18:43:00.004-04:00

Two more reviews!

First, from Fictionary (whose post is titled "Mama, PhD...no womb at the university?" -- isn't that awesome?):

"This book is a must-have for any woman who intends to pursue motherhood and academics. In truth, it should be required reading IN the universities for everyone–male and female–in education.

My first child, my son, is now 31, with two daughters of his own, and I still remember arriving at school in the mornings looking like a raccoon, mascara puddling on my eyelids, the wet sorrow of peeling myself away from him.

This book is one I’m ordering copies of for my own daughters, not because they’re mommy/academics, but because the stories of the struggles are honest and funny. They’re written by women who know that sometimes the solution is equally problematic, but who recognize that balance is a goal…not a given."

And then from They Grow in Your Heart:

"This book gave me a great deal of encouragement because so many other women have decided to forgo teaching full time - like I have. And there was a continuing theme that it’s okay if motherhood takes over the academic side of your life. OR if you decide to pursue your career. But, at the same time, it’s sad. It’s sad for our students and for our schools that so many women feel forced to choose between having a family and being an educator.

Mama PhD is a great read for anyone in academia considering motherhood, any moms in academia looking for a better way, and for all administration in schools everywhere. Actually, maybe it should be required reading for administrators!"

And for a brief detour from all things Mama, PhD related (I had to get that link in there somewhere!) my latest column is now up on Literary Mama:

"Baptism. It seems like just a moment ago we were driving to church on the first Sunday after Epiphany to celebrate the Baptism of our Lord and to baptize our baby daughter. Yet here we are, driving to church once again for the Baptism of our Lord, and this time, to baptize our son. It's been two years. Two years in that Mobius strip of time with small children that feels like forever and only a day."

Click here to read the rest of Christ's Own Forever.

Mama, PhD MotherTalk Blog Tour, Day 7

2008-08-24T20:06:00.006-04:00

Today we have one more MotherTalk review for Mama, PhD, followed by a review from On Campus with Women!

First up, Literary Mama's own Susan Ito, on her blog ReadingWritingLiving, writes:

"The writing in this book is alive, often very humorous, often fraught. The quality of these narratives is uniformly excellent. It’s creative nonfiction at its best: true stories that often read like fiction, with compelling narratives, and characters for whom much is at stake...Truly, every piece in this collection is strong, provocative and gives much food for thought. I’ve been turning these womens’ stories over and over in my head for weeks, having silent debates with them and myself, and I suspect the conversation is going to go on for a long time."

And from On Campus with Women:

"Unlike similar studies that focus primarily on mothers who have “made it”--i.e., those who have remained in the professoriate--Mama, PhD provides a balanced perspective from mothers who have opted to pursue other career options, from part-time contingent positions to non-academic writing. Celebratory but realistic, these essays illustrate the multitude of choices available (and still unavailable) to women and the great rewards (and considerable pitfalls) of fitting motherhood into the academic mold. In offering concrete suggestions to improve institutional support for women with children, the anthology connects personal experience to systemic change and gestures toward academe’s potential to provide truly family-friendly workplaces. Its stories will be of interest to young scholars contemplating motherhood, to current parents who feel isolated by expectations that they “perform childlessness,” and to anyone wondering how mothers are faring within the academy."

And there's more good stuff from both reviews, so check them out!

Mama, PhD MotherTalk Blog Tour, Day 4

2008-08-21T20:45:00.005-04:00

Two more Mama, PhD reviews came in today on the MotherTalk blog tour...one reviewer enjoyed the book, the other, not so much.

First up, from Life in the Hundred-Acre Wood:

"I was shocked (and a bit horrified) to read about such a thick glass ceiling. Actually, it's more like a glass floor. Because in many cases, these mother-scholars are prevented from even raising their feet off the ground. Though the anthology paints an honest yet bleak picture of academia, it is not all gloom and doom. Some women do find ways to make it work (though a few had partners able to share equally in the child care). Others, such as the single mothers, are down right heroic in their abilities to balance their work hours with raising a family. But the essays that tugged at me most, were the ones where the unrelenting demands of academia had permanently derailed these brilliant and talented mothers from attaining the holy grail -- a tenured position at a major research university. These pieces were an unpleasant reminder of the number of brain cells lost to society when we don't accommodate parents."

For Here We Go Again, Mama, PhD just wasn't her cup of tea:

"In general, I didn't hate this book. I didn't like it much either. I wouldn't have bought it for myself. In my opinion, it wasn't really a book for pleasure reading, which is all I do now. However, if you want to write a scholarly paper on women in academia, cite away. This would be a great research tool or a great read if you were considering either becoming a professor or a graduate student and wanted to know how it worked with motherhood. But for casual reading, try Anne of Green Gables."

Which just goes to show, it takes all sorts. I love Anne of Green Gables. And Mama, PhD!

Mama, PhD MotherTalk Blog Tour, Day 3

2008-08-20T20:48:00.004-04:00

Today we have reviews from three more bloggers!

First up is Peter's Cross Station, who says:

"But it's not all about the choice between dropping out or suffering, Mama PhD also tells more than one tale of a mother at the end of her rope who was thrown a fresh one by an enlightened advisor, mentor or department chair. There are a few corners of academe that have put all the feminist theory of the past thirty years into some kind of practice and support actual women (and their children). There are small institutions that place a community value on families and children and the well-rounded well being of professors."

Next, Wavybrains says:

"Get out the highlighter. I wanted to leap through the book and give [one of the contributors] a giant hug, while offering to be her BFF and start a super-secret Ya-Ya club for women with advanced degrees who ended up 45 degrees west of their intended landing zone. And who were still happy. Because the happy part resonates just as loudly as the guilt part throughout Mama PhD."

And finally for today, PCOS Baby says:

"I wonder if I would have even tried to have a child while in graduate school if I’d read this book. Whether I would have or not, I certainly would have been more prepared for what to expect. I went from the 'Golden Grad Student' in my lab, because of my input and productivity, to 'just a mom' because I’d given birth. It was a harsh realization. Having read this book, it seems that what I experienced is pretty much the standard. There is clearly a need for change within the academy, but it doesn’t seem high on the list of priorities for research universities. Talented, highly educated women are moving away from this career choice because it punishes us for wanting to have a family. And that's simply wrong."

I'll be back with more reviews tomorrow!

Mama, PhD MotherTalk Blog Tour, Day 2

2008-08-19T19:19:00.003-04:00

Today's review comes courtesy of Compost Happens:

"I hope that Mama, PhD will spread the word through the bastions of higher education: policies that marginalize women also marginalize our children, our future, and our present. The glass ceiling is cracking in the business world; the marble ceiling has shattered, but gender equity hasn't cracked the ivory tower yet."

Click here to read the rest!

Mama, PhD MotherTalk Blog Tour

2008-08-18T20:12:00.005-04:00

I'm beyond excited to announce the MotherTalk blog tour for Mama, PhD, which kicked off today with blue milk posting the first review:

"Mama PhD is not just a shoulder to cry on for readers grappling with what they may have thought were unique troubles in juggling academia and motherhood, it is also a call to arms for women and men in academia to make change happen, to make academia a place consistent with the lives of both men and women. Evans and Grant, the editors of the book, understand that there is a power in speaking out, that when women hear many other women are struggling in exactly the same fashion we suddenly see our experiences not as personal incompetence but as a larger injustice."

Yes! Exactly! I couldn't have said it better myself, really. Even if I wrote a whole book.

Stay tuned, as twenty bloggers in total will be telling the world what they thought of the collection. You can also see updates here on the MotherTalk site.

Yay!

New this week at Literary Mama

2008-08-17T21:07:00.003-04:00

Three new columns are up over on Literary Mama this week, good stuff as always.

In Faces of Motherhood, Kenna Lee-Ribas teaches a fascinating Biology Lesson. Amy Mercer worries about her children's Inheritance in Chronic Mama, and 12-Step Mama takes the last step in Step 12: Awakened by a Child.

Enjoy!

Children Learn what they Live

2008-08-12T09:18:00.003-04:00

1. The other night I was getting my son ready for bed, and buttoning up his pajama top while he desperately attempted to wiggle free. Trying to distract him, I started saying a word for every button I buttoned. It went something like this:

Me: "I..." (button) "love..." (button)

My son: "Meeeee!"

Exactly.

2. Yesterday morning I finished putting in my contact lenses and turned to see both of my children standing a stone's throw away, holding a contact case each, and solemnly sticking their fingers in their eyes.

My daughter: "We're putting in our con-texts."

My son: "Con-texts."

And there they stood, very serious, blinking at me and stabbing themselves repeatedly in the eyes.

The good, the bad....

All Sorts of Joy

2008-08-09T20:25:00.003-04:00

Yesterday my daughter pulled The Joy of Cooking off of the shelf, and proceeded to try and read the cover.

"The joy of," she reads out, all words that she knows. Then a pause.

"C, C" she says, making the hard "c" sound. Then, "O, O." She stopped, running her finger down the word "cooking." It's a pretty long word, and I could tell that was probably what she was thinking, too.

Often, when she doesn't know a word and/or it's too long for her to sound out, she'll just guess -- which I think is a pretty good strategy. So she's bent over the book, brow furrowed, going "The joy of...the joy of...the joy of...."

"Kids!" She finally yells out. "Two kids! The joy of two kids!!"

And she was so pleased with herself, I almost couldn't bear to tell her the word was "cooking." I did, though -- I told her that the book is actually called The Joy of Cooking, but in my world? She's right. The joy is two kids.

MotherTalk Book Tour: The Dangerous Days of Daniel X

2008-08-06T17:41:00.007-04:00

When I was a grad student studying children's literature, conversations abounded on the differences between the reading habits of boys and girls. Girls are more likely to read, I was told, and boys, when they do read, tend to prefer nonfiction over fiction. These statements in turn led to more conversations: why do girls seem to like to read, and boys don't? Why do girls read fiction and boys nonfiction? Why aren't there more books -- fiction and nonfiction alike -- marketed to young boys? Should we encourage boys to read more fiction? Is there some inherent worth in fiction? What, even, is the inherent worth in reading?

Good, good stuff. I could talk about reading and gender -- two favorite topics, really -- until kingdom come, and probably not run out of things to say. I was also dating someone at the time, coincidentally, and subjected him to my rehashed versions of all these conversations, asking him, as we talked, what his experiences had been with reading as a child.

He read the encyclopedia, I found out. (No big surprise there, that's the kind of guy he was.) He hated being read to in school because "they were always dumb books about prairies." But did you read Farmer Boy? I asked, slightly outraged at the diss on the Little House books. He hadn't. He hated the summer reading program at the library -- I nearly needed my smelling salts after that revelation -- because of more of the same: the books were all dumb, and apparently he didn't get credit for reading the encyclopedia. And -- this was the ultimate punch in the gut -- he read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, but none of the rest of The Chronicles of Narnia, because he "didn't think the first book was all that interesting."

And yet, somehow, I married this guy.

So when I signed up to review The Dangerous Days of Daniel X by James Patterson and Michael Ledwidge, touted as "a vaccine for the 'boys don't like reading' epidemic," I did so with thoughts of all those conversations in grad school and then subsequently with my to-be husband. And when it became evident on page 4 that this clearly wasn't going to be my kind of book -- "fast-breeding creeps with burnt-looking metallic faces and deer horns bristling above hornet noses and stingers...very nasty sluglike things with jowls like water balloons about to burst...a host of human-skeletonish freaks with tentacle hair and green multifaceted fly eyes; some white chocolate-colored cretins that look like giant human babies, only with glowing television fuzz for their eyes and mouths; and a praying mantis-looking race with shrunken heads, long red dreadlocks, and a pathetic need to kill" -- I called in my backup, and handed the book to my husband.

"Read this," I said. "Give me the guy's perspective. Tell me if you would have liked it when you were a kid." He made the tiniest bit of a fuss, which I quickly quelled by reminding him that he just read Myrtle of Willendorf all of his own volition, and I can't even think of a book less targeted toward guys. "But I like archeology," he protested. "Read," I responded, handing him Daniel X. And he did.

The verdict? "Better than the prairie stories, definitely."

Would he have read it as a kid? "Maybe."

Better than the encyclopedia -- or at least a viable alternative? "No way."

Maybe there's something to this nonfiction thing after all....

New at Literary Mama

2008-08-05T18:43:00.004-04:00

There's some lovely new reading material up on Literary Mama this week.

In Multi-Culti Mami's Sound and Music, Violeta Garcia Mendoza writes about singing to her children. Vivian Morrow Jones reflects on her mother and on Emily Dickinson in An Inheritance from My Mother: Emily Dickinson, and Sarah Byck, Cheryl Dumensil, and Meg Pokrass write poetry on everything from chess camp to Mr. Potato Head.

Wonderful reading for a hot August day...enjoy!

Whoops

2008-07-31T19:45:00.002-04:00

I woke up in the middle of the night last night with that panicky feeling of having forgotten something, something important. So I'm lying there trying to remember what it was I forgot -- locked the front door? turned off all the lights? But my brain is going no, bigger. Forgot to put the wash in the dryer? Yes, actually, but that wasn't it.

A deadline? A birthday? What did I forget? I couldn't think of anything. A meeting? A playdate? No, and no. A holiday, my brain finally suggests -- like maybe I forgot Christmas? Another important date?

That's it! I almost yelled out loud, which would have woken my husband up, but then again, he's used to it. The release date for Mama, PhD!

How on earth could you forget the publication date of your own book, I'm sure you're wondering, but the truth is the book's been available for so long now that I kind of...well...forgot. Still, I thought the official release date should be commemorated in some way, right?

So I guess that was my own little commemoration: I forgot all about it. Oh, well. I'll make up for it I'm sure.

Mama, PhD! Read the book! Visit the blog! Watch the trailer! Join the conversation!!

And quick, before I forget what it was I was talking about.

Much to Blog About, Much to Read

2008-07-28T19:50:00.008-04:00

When it rains, it pours.

First off, my newest column, The Church Without Walls, is up now on Literary Mama. Here's an excerpt:

"As I nurse my son, I think about women as priests, as deacons, and I think about women who lay no claim to such titles, but whose lives show forth the same devotion. Women who gladly give of themselves in the service of others. For the past few weeks I haven't needed to venture outside of my house to find a community of people to care for me; women have brought the Body of Christ to me."

Second, I just got word that Mama, PhD was recently reviewed by Author Magazine. Here's a taste of the review:

"You would imagine that a university teaching position would be the perfect job for a new mother to have. After all, professors really only “work” (lecture) a few hours a week, and aren’t all colleges at the forefront of progressivism with flextime, health insurance, and maybe even lactation stations? This collection of three dozen short essays (ending in a couple of “Momifestos”) paints an entirely different picture: one in which academe has yet to fully adjust to having women present at all, let alone those with interests and responsibilities outside the ivory tower."

And last but not least, Caroline and I are guest blogging today for The Debutante Ball, about our experiences co-editing Mama, PhD. Check it out:

"Meet over email. Of course; you live, after all, 3,000 miles apart, but it helps our relationship get into writing right away. We are literally words on a page (screen) to each other for the first year of our collaboration (we don’t even talk on the phone!). It doesn’t hurt that we meet via Elrena’s submission to the section of Literary Mama that Caroline is editing at the time.

Meet when one of you is pregnant. This helps get the conversation personal, pronto, as Caroline cautions Elrena that she might not get back to her very promptly with edits.

Don’t always stick to the point. We know we are both writers, and mothers, and if we’d stayed on topic it might have stayed at that. Instead, we digress into breastfeeding and parenting and graduate school and ivory tower life -- and friendship. And then, ultimately, a book."

Happy reading!

Wow

2008-07-23T15:08:00.002-04:00

Our morning routine is pretty unvaried around here, if by "pretty unvaried" one means doing the exact same things, in the exact same order, every single weekday.

But today I got a little bit of a surprise. I was in the kitchen, fixing everyone's breakfast (cereal and milk in a bowl with a spoon, the spoon is very important) and the children were climbing all over me and totally underfoot -- as they are every morning -- and so I told them to please go to the table and sit down -- as I say every morning -- and I would bring them their breakfast.

So on a usual morning my daughter goes and sits at the table, and my son goes and stands by the highchair and waits for me to pick him up and put him in it. Today, I walked out of the kitchen with a bowl of cereal (with a spoon) in each hand, to see my daughter sitting in her chair at the table...and my son sitting in his highchair.

I was totally stymied. How on earth did he get there? There I am, with two bowls of cereal (with spoons) in my hands...could I have somehow put him in his highchair without realizing it? Not possible.

No one else is home. My daughter certainly can't lift him. So the only answer must be, he put himself in his highchair. All by himself.

Now our highchair isn't exactly a climbable structure. I walked around and looked at it from a few angles, (still holding the cereal, mind you) and I really didn't see any way he could have climbed up. I walked around a few more times, surveying the situation. And then I saw his route.

"Did you climb up on a chair and then up on the table and then into your highchair?" I asked him.

"Uh-huh," he said, nonchalantly, with a slight nod. "Tereal?"

I gave him his cereal. I buckled him in. I tried to imagine him climbing from the table to the highchair, without falling and without knocking the chair over. I asked him again if this was what he did. He said yes.

He was so "whatever, mama" about it -- but I was really kind of impressed. Tomorrow morning I think I'm going to stake out a spot where I can see the table, and watch the gymnastics for myself.

A Word of Advice

2008-07-20T19:58:00.005-04:00

Here is something I recently learned: when you purchase a spatula or other cooking utensil, wash it before you use it.

I mean, that goes without saying, right? But just in case you need an additional incentive to run your brand-new cooking utensils through the dishwasher before they touch your food, here's another motivator: while it was on display in the store, some kid just might have licked it.

By "some kid" I of course mean "my kid," my daughter to be exact.

"She was licking the utensils," my husband remarked after a recent trip with her to the store.

"She what?"

"She was licking the utensils. You know, like, licking them."

Yuck.

So caveat emptor, and please wash your new utensils. As for me, I'm just trying really hard not to think about what might have been on said utensils, or even -- shudder -- the licks that potentially came before.

Suggestion Girl

2008-07-18T06:49:00.001-04:00

I've blogged about Suggestion Girl and Suggestible Boy before, but Suggestion Girl has been taking things to a whole new level lately.

A typical example:

Her: Baby brother is such a big boy, mama.

Me: Yes, yes he is.

Her: He's such a good boy. He's so good at singing the L song!

Me: Yes, yes he is.

Her: And he's so good at using the potty!

Me: Yes, yes he is.

Her: And -- pause, casting around for something else to compliment her brother on (this is usually where I start to clue in to where all this is going) -- he has such red hair! And (this part all in a rush) -- he says gee-gop so well!!

Gee-gop is lollipop. And yes, he does say gee-gop so well, especially after the wind-up of that whole big huge litany of baby brother wonderfulness. Gee-gop, gee-gop, gee-gop! he says.

The first time she did something like this, when she got to the money line she kind of raised her eyebrows at me and opened her eyes wide, with this "Is she going to fall for it?" kind of face. And I told her I had to hand it to her, I had no idea (the first time around) where were were going to end up, and that was a very clever, well-though-out, involved way to try and get (herself) a lollipop.

I don't remember if I gave in the first time or not, but I've been pretty good about not caving with all the repetitions. And we're having some conversations now about paying sincere compliments, around these parts.

Sheep Say Moo

2008-07-16T06:41:00.000-04:00

So apparently my husband's concert the other night was a pivotal, foundational event in my son's young life. He hasn't stopped talking about it ever since. The conversation runs something like this:

Him: Daddy bass!

Me: Yes, daddy plays the bass.

Him: Donald!

Me: Yes, daddy played Old MacDonald.

Him (with increasing excitement): Sheep!

Me: Yes, there was a sheep on Old MacDonald's farm.

Him (barely able to contain himself): Moo!

My daughter: Sheep say baa, Baby Brother. Cows say moo.

Him: Moo! Moo! Moo!

Repeat conversation multiple times a day.

I think the first time the conversation took place the "moo" was actually a brain blip, caused from the sheer excitement of remembering daddy playing Old MacDonald with his band. But because it got a reaction -- a laugh from me, a correction from big sister -- it's stuck. Moo! He yells, and launches himself at me, laughing with delight.

I'm not correcting him on it; it's just too cute. And besides: big sister's got the correction angle covered.

Lazy Hazy Days of Summer

2008-07-14T18:30:00.005-04:00

It's been slow postings on the blog lately -- for one, we've all been sick; for two, both of the people who usually keep my inbox full have been overseas, lending naturally to a nice break from the computer; for three, it's summer.

So we've been lazing around, first working our way through a round of inexplicable fevers that rendered the various afflicted tired, cranky, and wont to lie on the couch and ask to watch Curious George. (I didn't get the fever.) Now we're working our way through a round of head colds that render the various afflicted tired, cranky, and wont to lie on the couch and ask to watch Curious George -- or, alternately, ask to just be left in peace and please not be jumped on, please, please. (I did get the cold.)

Yes, well. I feel like we've spent the bulk of the past week and a half rotating on and off the couch, or sitting out on the back deck, blowing bubbles and listening to Vivaldi. I know, right? Everyone's bad days should be this good.

But swimming starts again today, and after a brief break for Science in the Summer, storytime will resume at the library. We're meditating on healthiness, putting away the bubbles for now, and getting ready to jump back into life with both feet.

(I found the turtle picture here.)

MomCentral Recycline Toothbrush Blog Tour

2008-07-10T13:31:00.007-04:00

When MomCentral sent out a call to help spread the word about Recycline toothbrushes, I signed up as fast as I could. I figure I'm an ideal candidate to blog about a toothbrush made from recycled material.

Why? Two reasons.

First, I'm obsessed with brushing my teeth. I love brushing my teeth -- I brush them all the time; I'm probably one of the few people who goes to the dentist and hears "You really shouldn't brush your teeth so often." But I can't help it. That nice, fresh clean mintiness, the bright and shiny smile -- and brushing my teeth helps me clear my head, I think, when I'm writing and I get stuck or I'm homebound for the fourth day in a row with sick kids. Brushing my teeth gives me new perspective on life. Really.

Second, my daughter is obsessed with recycling. I don't know if it's the thought of something being turned into something else, or if it's because of the recycling episode on Curious George, or if she just likes the sound of the word, but she is all about recycling. She has this little running monologue about how the milk cartons go into the recycling bin and then the recycling truck comes and picks them up, and the recycling truck takes them to the recycling plant, etc. etc. ect.

She always wants to be the one to deposit used containers into the recycling bin, which usually leads to some interesting discussions, because she asks if she can recycle the containers and then my son goes "Trash!" and she goes "No, recycling" and he goes "Trash!" and she gets all worked up and it's actually kind of funny. And then I explain to her that he's only one, and he doesn't yet really know the difference.

Anyway. When I got my toothbrushes in the mail I opened them and showed them to my daughter, and I told her they were made out of recycled plastics -- milk jugs, yogurt cups, etc. Her eyes went wide. The toothbrushes are now firmly a part of her recycling litany, after the milk jugs go to the recycling plant etc., "They melt them down and then they make them into this toothbrush. This toothbrush, right here."

She's enamored.

I'm pretty impressed with the toothbrush -- and the company -- myself. The brush provided all that fresh-cleaned wonderfulness that is newly-brushed teeth, and plus, they retail at Target (Target! I love Target) for $2.04. Not exactly a piggybank-breaking enterprise. The brushes also come in their own (recycled) containers that can be used for storage and/or travel, and when you're finished with the brush, simply pop it into the mail using a postage-paid label from the Recycline website, and they'll recycle it again and make it into plastic decking, picnic tables, or boardwalks! How cool is that?

Kind of like, "A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm... [and] a king may go a progress through the guts of a beggar." Except...well, not really like that, all that much.

Did I mention being housebound for four days with sick kids?

Anyway. We're hooked, pardon the fish reference. Recycling and toothbrushing and more recycling, it doesn't get much better than that.

And now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go brush my teeth.

This blog post sponsored by MomCentral. Image courtesy of TreeHugger, and the fish/guts quote is from Hamlet.

Under Construction

2008-07-06T13:17:00.002-04:00

I'm making some updates to my website today, so if you happen to see anything odd, that would be why.

(Image courtesy of the BBC, and fondly referred to around here as the "Man Having Trouble Opening Umbrella" sign.)

MotherTalk Book Tour: A Summer Affair

2008-07-01T09:52:00.011-04:00

The scene:

Dinnertime. I'm sitting at the table with my son; my husband is in the kitchen with my daughter, teaching her how to make pancakes (she's 3 1/2). My son (1 1/2) is eating pancakes. I have my nose in a book.

My husband: See, how the batter is all shiny around the edges? You have to wait until it's not shiny, and then it will start to bubble, and then you can flip it.

My daughter: Can I put in some more blueberries?

My husband: I think we have more than enough blueberries already, thanks.

Me: I think the lady in my book is going to have an affair.

My husband: No, not yet, you have to wait just a little bit more to flip it...what did you say?

Me: I said I think the lady in my book is going to have an affair.

My son: More pancake! More pancake!

My husband: Hmm. What was the title of the book again?

Me (lowering the book, peeking around at the front cover): Oh.

And there you have it. Somehow, I hadn't quite processed that A Summer Affair by Elin Hilderbrand was going to be about, well, an affair. At least, I hadn't processed that it was going to be about that kind of an affair.

Even beyond the whole affair bit (which I must say, is pretty central to the plot -- hence, I guess, the title) I didn't really find myself resonating with the main character. I was all set out to like her -- redheaded, stay-at-home mom struggles to find time for artistic pursuits while raising small children, sound like a familiar narrative? -- but after a scant few pages, I couldn't see myself in her anymore.

For one, there's the whole affair bit; and for two, she has an au pair. A live-in au pair. And honestly, as far as the book goes, that bugged me even more than the affair. All of the lavish sympathy I was prepared to pour out kind of dried up, when she made a casual remark about her husband, home with the children: if he couldn't handle the kids, the au pair was always there.

And that kind of did it for me. When I'm out and about pursuing my artistic endeavors, and my husband is home with the kids, he's home alone with the kids. There's no au pair to go running to, there's just him, all by his lonesome, "in the trenches," as one of my friends calls it. Similarly, I don't have anyone else around every day during the day to pick up the slack, to entertain the children while I get some work done or make a phone call or blow my nose or just breathe for five seconds without being climbed on, etc. And yet, we still manage to pull of the occasional accomplishment around here, even without live-in help.

I read the book all the way to the end -- for one, I had this review to write, and I've spent far too much time being a student to write about something I haven't read. But the main reason I read the book all the way to the end was because of the descriptions of the main character's craft. She's a glassblower, and oh my -- the descriptions of her working in her studio (which I now know is called a "hot shop") were amazing. Hilderbrand obviously knows her stuff about glassblowing, but it wasn't presented in an off-putting way, it was woven seamlessly into the narrative. And it was totally captivating. I actually found myself holding my breath at times, it was so real -- the heat, the fire, the delicate, molten glass. Beyond cool.

So, there you have it: A Summer Affair is about an affair, in case anybody (else) missed that. The main character annoyed me, and yet: the glassblowing descriptions were beautiful enough to keep me reading, all the way to the end.

My Hubby Rocks

2008-06-29T16:32:00.005-04:00

We all know that I think my husband is the best husband ever, but he also rocks. Literally.

Friday night he and his yet-unnamed band (the "As Yet Unnamed" band -- borrowed much?) played in downtown Phoenixville for the ongoing summer-long block party that is basically summer in my town. On the first Friday of every month when school is out we have a true party, they close the road and we get street vendors and the whole bit, but we have lesser parties on all the other Fridays in the summer, just because. And Celtic fairs and Blobfest and the Dogwood Festival and, and, and. I love Phoenixville.

This past Friday we had four different bands and a handful of street performers, and the children and I walked down (well, I walked down, they rode along in the little red wagon) to hear Daddy play, and we had such a good time. We got a bit rained on (okay, we got soaked) but we borrowed a towel from a neighbor (who inexplicably didn't own any umbrellas?) and dried ourselves off and all went and had ice cream afterwards.

And then got soaked all over again walking back home, singing some of hubby's greatest hits. It was a great night.

Mama, PhD Giveaway!

2008-06-28T17:44:00.002-04:00

Caroline has a giveaway going on her blog right now: the first person to post a review on Amazon for Mama, PhD and send her the link will get a free Mama, PhD t-shirt!

Although since we already have one review (thank you, Tara!) I'm assuming this will go to the poster of the first new review?

We may need to be buying more t-shirts.

Anyway, sound like fun? Post away!

MotherTalk Book Tour: More Than it Hurts You

2008-06-26T06:35:00.003-04:00

Today is the last day of my daughter's two-week-long, four-days-a-week swim class. It goes without saying we've been spending a lot of time at the pool.

I love the pool, something about the constant attention I have to pay to my children makes me forget everything else but them, and it's nice to be cocooned in that chloriney little bubble every now and again. Even four days a week for two weeks straight.

Over the past few days I've seen some mothers at the pool lose it just spectacularly -- there's something about the hot sun, the cold water, the constant threat of aqueous death that maybe brings tempers closer to the surface? I've been fortunate, I've had my mother-in-law along to help out these two weeks, and I've found myself watching these mothers and not quite knowing what to do. We all lose it at points, and I try to imagine if it was me, if I was the one calling down fire and brimstone on my children, what could a stranger do to help? Should I offer to help, in some way? How? What can I do in that tempestuous moment that will truly come across as a stand of solidarity, not a criticism?

It's hard. Because I'm certain, for most -- if not all -- of these mothers, this isn't their normal way of being. I'm sure, like me, they're just trying to get their overtired children dried off and into the car so they can go home. And I don't know what I should -- or even just could -- be doing to help...recognizing of course that the luxury of all this thinking and contemplating is only mine because I have someone along to help me.

In More Than it Hurts You, Darin Strauss asks us to consider the ramifications of a mother's actions against her child -- actions that occur not just because everyone is tired and stressed out and wet, but instead as the result of deliberate premeditation. Strauss leaves no doubt in the reader's mind that this mother, perhaps suffering from Munchausen by proxy syndrome, is hurting her child deliberately. But this is far from being a cut-and-dried case, and far from a cut-and-dried story. It made me wonder, as I did at the pool -- what could be done to help?

Strauss' use of multiple point-of view characters allows the reader a glimpse not only into the mind of the mother, but also her husband, and the doctor who eventually intervenes. Each character brings a rich background to the story, and the circumstances that end up tying them together make for a rich and complex novel.

Far from being a book about a bad mother, or even one that gives in to the polarization of good/bad mothering, More Than it Hurts You leads the reader into the thick of a mess that has no easy solutions. I usually find myself thinking, as I'm reading almost any book for the first time, "Oh, I hope X happens; I hope this is resolved in Y way." For this book, though, I didn't know what to think or to hope. My brain was stuck in a feedback loop: I wish...I wish...I wish. But there were no quick fixes or obvious solutions.

When I finished the book I spent a long, long time thinking about what might have happened to the characters after the point where the novel ends -- the mother, the father, the doctor, the little boy. And I think -- I think -- I managed to come up with a solution that would be in the best interest of everyone involved. But more than that, what I took away was a heartrending sadness for a mother who was so sick -- or perhaps so hurt, herself? -- that she could deliberately injure her child.

At the close of the story the little boy in the book was almost exactly the age of my own little boy. Yesterday after we got home from the pool I was feeding my children lunch, and planning out what to write for this post. My son was sitting in his high chair, his hair still wet and sticking up all over the place from swimming, eating grapes. As he bit into each grape the firm skin exploded and juice dribbled down first his chin, then his hands, then his arms. I sat at the table for a while, almost mesmerized by the sight of him: so roundly plump and delicious himself, happily eating his juicy grapes. And I thought about this book, about the mother, about her child.

Then I walked over and scooped up my juicy, grapey little boy and held him for a long time.

Writing Updates

2008-06-25T06:51:00.001-04:00

We've been busy around here lately.

In addition to the book trailer for Mama, PhD I also have a piece in the current issue of Brain, Child about Johnson & Johnson's mama-blogger retreat, Camp Baby:

"Perhaps not the most shining PR moment for Johnson & Johnson? The days following the disinvitations saw blogger comments from mamas who were invited, not invited, and disinvited -- and considering that over one hundred women were invited for just fifty spots at camp, a lot of people had something to say."

Brain, Child: available wherever fine magazines are sold.

I also have an essay up on Mothering.com this week, about my experiences with tandem nursing:

"Should I have weaned her? The question looms in my mind. Should I have weaned her when I had the chance, before the baby was born? But I didn't want to wean her then. I was so aware of the dwindling days, the end of our time together as just the two of us. Every moment was saffron-precious, and I couldn't bear to waste it. Weaning was not an option."

Click here to read the rest!

Mama PhD Trailer

2008-06-24T13:45:00.004-04:00

Check this out!

I have to admit, I'm beyond pleased with how it turned out...what do you think?

Happy Anniversary!

2008-06-21T16:42:00.010-04:00

Five years today.

I've been hearing a lot of "congratulations!" lately, and the odd "what an accomplishment!" with regards to our big day today. The first one I get; the second, not so much. I've gotten to spend every single day of the past five years with my best friend, it wasn't exactly a hardship. If I had it to do all over I'd marry my husband again in a heartbeat.

Seriously, I would. The dress still fits and we know our vows, so if anyone wants to fund it, we'll throw the whole wedding again and y'all can come on down and party with us. Just let me know!

In the meantime, here are five pictures from our wedding, to celebrate our first five years of marriage. I hope we have about a gazillion more to come.

Love you, hubby!

Pictures by Tim Scott of Spencer Studios

In Real Life

2008-06-17T19:04:00.007-04:00

I'm participating in another Absolute Write Blog Chain this month, and I'm set to blog after Bookdragonette's post about meeting her partner over the internet.

I was really tempted to pick up on the "partner" theme, because I have a post in mind that I've been planning on writing about my husband, that I'd originally planned to post on our anniversary. Our five year anniversary, (can you believe it?) which is this Saturday. And then I decided, oh, I should really wait the four more days and post it then. So I am.

Instead, I'm going to pick up on the meeting-people-on-the-internet theme. My Mama, PhD co-editor Caroline and I first met online, which we write about in the introduction to the book -- and we worked on the book together for almost a full year before we ever met in person. It's always fun for me to get the chance to meet people in real life whom I've only known online, and over the past weekend I got to do just that, with two of our Mama, PhD contributors.

I was in Ohio (yes, we went straight from the beach) for the wedding of one of my oldest and dearest friends, and while I was there I got to meet two contributors -- Rosemarie Emanuele, and Natalie Kertes Weaver, both of whom are at Ursuline College and thus somewhat close to where I was staying in Ohio.

I had all my usual pre-meeting people worries -- will they think I'm dumb, in real life? Will they raise their eyebrows and shake their heads and think, really? This flibbertigibbet is one of the book's editors? But of course, none of that happened, and Rosemarie and Natalie were as wonderful in real life as they are in their writing.

We spent a lovely morning talking about the book, and how it came to be, and Caroline's and my experiences with it -- from deciding on the project to soliciting and selecting essays to choosing a publisher to the final, finished, real-live-in-your-hands book. I got to hear more about Rosemarie's and Natalie's experiences with parenting in the context of the academy, and about their work, and all about their children, and it was one of those days where I found myself thinking over and over again "I wish we lived closer, these people are so cool." I probably said "yes, exactly!" about 1000 times as we were chatting, so hopefully neither of them will hold that against me.

Right before we parted ways we got a quick picture -- taken by Rosemarie's five-year-old daughter, no less! Mama, PhDs, in real life:

Next up on the blog chain is Puttin' Words on Paper, and here are all the participants if you'd like to read our posts!

Spittin' (Out Words) Like a Llama
Polyamory
Life in Scribbletown
Polenth's Quill
Auria Cortes
Blog in a Suitcase
Delirious
Asian Business
If you ask me anything I don't know, I'm not going to answer
As Yet Untitled
Puttin' Words on Paper
Fumbling with Fiction
Rotating Bear
spynotes
Virtual Wordsmith

Something to Read

2008-06-12T16:43:00.006-04:00

So while I've been cavorting around on the beach, my new column has gone up over at Literary Mama. Here's an excerpt:

"Every Sunday I pray a prayer that begins 'Our Father,' taking comfort in the repetition of the words as I pray my daughter someday will as well. But ask me if I believe God has a gender, and I will say no. God the Son had a gender in the person of Jesus, but as for God -- God the Father, the triune God? I don't think so. The Bible talks about humanity being made in the image of God, and I think both of those essences -- male and female -- are reflected in the Godhead. Which is not to say that I think God is a woman, or that part of God is a woman; I don't. I think God is beyond gender, or at least beyond our understanding of it."

Click here to read the rest!

Also, I just finished another Blog Blitz over at Absolute Write, so if you're looking for some new blogs to read, check these out:

Peregrinas
Polenth's Quill
Auria Cortes
JJ Cooper
Writes in the City
The Hero Complex
Blog in a Suitcase
Chronic Pain Today
Celebrity Today
Delirious
Fumbling with Fiction
Weird News
Spittin' (out words) Like a Llama
The Galaxy Express

View From My Deck

2008-06-11T10:34:00.001-04:00

Did I mention I'm on vacation?

Everybody Dance

2008-06-06T14:50:00.004-04:00

We're getting ready for our church's end-of-the-year dance concert around here, where both my daughter and I will be dancing. Suffice it to say, there's been a lot of rehearsing going on lately.

My daughter has run her piece so many times at this point that my son knows it, complete with the running commentary she keeps up as she dances, and the little coda she's added at the end from Dance with the Teletubbies (which I'm trying to get her to stop doing, all efforts so far fruitless).

This morning I was doing laundry and I heard her twirling up and down the hallway (baby brother one twirl behind her all the way) going, "Mama, I have to practice the concert, I have to practice the concert right now!"

"Do you mean you have to practice your dance?" I ask, but no, she means she has to practice the concert, the whole entire thing, including selections from last year's concert and selections from -- well, your guess is as good as mine on where some of them were coming from.

"This one is All Creatures of our God and King," she announced, and proceeded to do her dance, complete with the running commentary and the Teletubby coda.

"This one is Thy Word," another piece from the concert, but not one she's in, all twirling to the contrary.

"This one is Jonah was a Prophet," a piece from last year's concert -- hop, skip, twirl.

"This one is Praise the Lord, and Chuck E. Cheese's."

I have absolutely no idea where that one came from. She's been to Chuck E. Cheese once, for a friend's birthday, last November. Apparently it made an impression.

Praise the Lord, and Chuck E. Cheese's seemed to be a more modern piece, lots of asymmetrical movement and a few falls, and it might have been intended to be a duet, because at one point I heard "You kneel down right there, Baby Brother...you kneel down right now, I said" -- but then again, that might not have had anything to do with the dance, after all.

The Boston Globe Again, And a Tale about Consequences

2008-06-05T16:55:00.003-04:00

As if having Mama, PhD contributor Rebecca Steinitz 's article in the Boston Globe wasn't cool enough, the Globe ran another article the next day mentioning the Mama, PhD blog on Inside Higher Education.

Coolness abounds -- figuratively speaking, if not literally. It's hot and humid in beautiful Phoenixville at the moment, and the air inside my house is about the consistency of soup. Blug.

Perhaps it was the soupy air that motivated my daughter to dump an entire glass of water on the kitchen floor, despite being repeatedly told not to do so. The dumping was followed by some jumping and splashing, which was almost instantly followed by running, which in turn of course was followed by a slip and a fall.

Once I ascertained that she was fine -- surprised, but not hurt -- I decided maybe this could be a Teachable Moment. So I picked her up and held her, and asked her if she was hurt.

"Yes," she sniffled. "I got hurt."

"How did that happen?" I asked.

"I slipped and I fell down and I got hurt."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," I said. "Why did you slip, do you think?"

"Because there was water on the floor."

"Oh," I said. "I see." I paused for a minute. Then: ""Why was there water on the floor?"

And boy, did she see instantly where that one was going! She gave me this look, all full of suspicious eyes and sideways glances, and didn't answer. So I asked her again: "Why was there water on the floor?"

"Because I dumped the water on the floor," she finally said, sotto voce.

"Ah," I said. "So. You dumped water on the floor, and then you slipped and fell and got hurt."

"Yup," she said, resigned.

So we talked about consequences, and about how when things happen because of other things, those are consequences. And they can be good, or sometimes not so good -- like when you do something you were told not to do, and you end up getting hurt (or, in this case, you end up getting a long, Teachable Moment sort of lecture).

And I think she really got it, she went running upstairs calling "Daddy! Daddy! I'm learning about consequences!" which I thought was just too cute. A couple of minutes later she was back at my side, with another question:

"Mama, when the consequences are over, will it be Christmas?"

"I don't think they'll last quite that long," I said. And they didn't.

Mama, PhD Contributor in the Boston Globe!

2008-06-01T08:11:00.003-04:00

Rebecca Steinitz, one of our Mama, PhD contributors, has a wonderful piece in today's Boston Globe called "The Rest of Us," about motherhood, work, and family:

"Could it be that the glass ceiling is cracking, rather than shattering, as dramatic breakthroughs give way to the often frustrating slog of complicated, incremental change?"

Click here to read the rest!

MomCentral AccuClean Air Filtration Blog Tour

2008-05-31T12:50:00.006-04:00

We interrupt our regularly scheduled program of gushing about our book to bring you this review of...an air filtration system.

So I've been doing reviews for MotherTalk since shortly after I started this blog, (actually, one of the main reasons I started this blog was so I could do reviews for MotherTalk) and the last review I did (or, more accurately, my husband did) was co-sponsored by MomCentral. And I got to thinking, maybe I should start doing some reviews for MomCentral, too!

As I surf around the blogosphere I'm always seeing reviews for cool products, or yummy things to eat or drink, and while my hand will always shoot highest into the air for a free book, sometimes you need something to munch on while you read, right?

So I signed up. I didn't get picked to review the first product I signed up for, or the second, or the third, but perseverance eventually paid off and I finally got picked to review...an air filtration system.

Hence this post! Since the AccuClean Air Filtration System is a whole-house system, I didn't get to actually test it out, but I did spend some time on their website. AccuClean boasts 99.98% removal of allergens from filtered air, which I thought was cool, but then again we don't really have airborne allergies around here. When I saw that AccuClean also removes over 99% of influenza A virus from the air, I started taking a little bit more notice. And when I started reading that AccuClean helps reduce the need to dust, they had my undivided attention.

So, there you go: if you're in the market for a whole-house filtration system, check out AccuClean -- reduce those nasty airborne particles, and spend less time dusting. What more could you want?

Search Me!

2008-05-30T06:14:00.000-04:00

The "search inside this book" feature is up and running for Mama, PhD on Amazon!

Although I couldn't get the keyword search to work (you know something is wrong when a search for the words "Mama" and "PhD" in a book titled Mama, PhD yields nothing) the rest of the links work fine, and I had a lovely time clicking "Surprise Me!" until I got that scary pop-up that says "This is copyrighted material, and you just asked for one page too many, you greedy reader you" or whatever it is that it actually says. At which point I said duh, it's my book you stupid pop-up, and I can read the whole thing if I want, right now. So there.

Anyway. Before we got to all of that, it was lovely.

When the first sample page appeared, before all that nastiness, I saw which essay it was from and kind of went, oh! I love that piece! What a great selection to make! And then I clicked again and went, oh! I love this piece, too! Another great selection! And then I clicked again and went -- well, you've probably figured out the pattern by now. And again, and again, and again, until the copyright pop-up told me off.

Click on over and have yourself a browse! It's so much fun, really.

In other news, in case a book, a blog, and a website weren't enough, I'm thrilled to announce the launch of Mama, PhD apparel -- shirts, hats, tote bags, baby clothes, you name it. I ordered a shirt for myself and one each for my children -- quality control, you know -- and they just look great. Too, too much fun.

Candy, Anyone?

2008-05-29T15:54:00.010-04:00

Yesterday morning my children were off playing quietly by themselves (first clue that things are about to get interesting) when suddenly, they both appeared at my elbow.

"We ate up all the candy!" said my daughter.

"Canee!" my son echoed.

"What?" I was nonplussed. "How did you get candy? Where? From whom?" We hadn't even had breakfast yet, and to the best of my knowledge, I was the only adult at home.

Yet there they stood, the children, beaming up at me with their little jaws going munch, munch, munch. No answer to my questions.

I tried again. "Where did you find candy?"

My daughter considered this seriously for a moment. Then, "In my mouth!" she answered.

"Mouf!" echoed my son, and pointed helpfully in the direction of his slightly-purple-stained lips, in case I wasn't quite sure where his mouth was.

"Ah. Yes," I said. "But what I meant to ask was, where did you get the candy from? Where was it before it was in your mouth?"

My daughter thought even harder about this one, before she brightened. "In my teeth," she said.

"Teef!" came the echo, with another point, open-mouthed this time. I caught a glimpse of an erstwhile purple candy, before it was crunched into nonexistence.

"Ah. Yes," I said again. "But where was it before..."

"We ate it all up! All the candy, we ate it all up, the beautiful, beautiful candy," my daughter interrupted.

And, "Canee!" said my son.

Munch munch munch.

After a minute of watching them chomp away I remembered the leftover candy from a parade we went to the other week, that I'd randomly thrown in a drawer and that, apparently, they'd randomly found.

Oh well, I thought. Not much I could do about it after the fact, and besides: we're celebrating around here anyway.

You Said It!

2008-05-27T14:58:00.003-04:00

Scott Jaschick has a piece up on Inside Higher Ed titled "Does Academe Hinder Parenthood?" I read the article this morning, including all the comments, which contained such gems as

"We cannot and should not coddle to those who make the decision to have children. When a woman has a child it is her problem, and no one else’s"

and

"The fundamental fact of academic life is that marriage and family are incompatible with the necessary high standards needed for professors."

Good stuff, no? It probably goes without saying that I was nearly apoplectic.

I was all set to drop everything I needed to do today and write something about the comment trail to this piece, but then I clicked over to Libby Gruner's post for the Mama, PhD blog today, and read that first. And Libby said it. She said it all, she said it well, and I nearly stood up and cheered.

Go read it, seriously. It's well worth the time. And now I'm going to go throw in a load of laundry and hug my children.

And It's Here

2008-05-26T20:31:00.009-04:00

Saturday was one of those lovely days you just want to tuck away and keep.

In the morning, my husband and I walked down to the Phoenixville Farmer's Market, with my daughter on her tricycle and my son in the little red wagon -- I joked that we were a walking advertisement for Radio Flyer.

After the Farmer's Market we walked around downtown a bit, and then had a lovely lunch at Molly Maguire's, where at first it looked like we were going to have to wait a bit to be seated, and then, as it turned out, we didn't. Prompting me to say "So three redheads walk into an Irish pub...and find a table!"

Then we walked/rode back home, where what was waiting for my in the mailbox but my real, live copy of Mama, PhD. I pulled it out of the envelope and just kind of held it for a moment, until my daughter went "Hey! That spells 'Mama!'" And indeed it does.

So I sat down next to her and we looked at the book together. She read my name off of the cover, and then we looked at the dedication and she found her name and her brother's, and then we looked at the acknowledgments and she found my husband's name. And it was just so wonderful, really, my whole family right there all together, looking at my book...it was just really, really cool.

When my daughter saw Caroline's son's name next to hers she guessed that it said "Big," as in "Big Idea," and I said no, that's "Ben," but if you look here...flip over to the copyright page...that says "Big Idea" right there, because I have a VeggieTales quote in my essay. That was also a very cool moment.

I've been carrying the book around with me from room to room since it arrived -- you know, just in case I need to look at it and don't have the time to walk upstairs or whatever -- and every time my daughter sees it, she says "Hey! M-A-M-A! That's 'Mama!'" Or "Hey! E-L-R-E-N-A! That's 'Mama!'"

And I say yes, yes, you are right. You are right, indeed.

Still Waiting for My Book...

2008-05-22T18:38:00.002-04:00

In the meantime, look what my husband brought home from work yesterday! Yum.

My Book is Here!!!

2008-05-21T14:46:00.003-04:00

My book is here my book is here my book is here my book is here my book is here!!!

Or, more accurately, my book -- finished, printed, it's really-and-truly-a-book -- is on my editor's desk in New Jersey.

I will not drive to New Jersey I will not drive to New Jersey I will not drive to New Jersey I will not drive to New Jersey I will not drive to New Jersey....

Squeee!

While You Wait

2008-05-19T14:38:00.012-04:00

The Absolute Write May Blog Chain has made it to my blog! This blog chain doesn't have an overarching theme, so bloggers are supposed to create their own thematic links to the post before them. I'm posting after Spittin' (out words) Like a Llama, which I'm totally tickled about because we like llamas over here.

Spittin's post was a top ten list: "Top Ten Ways to Know Your Novel (or proposal or short story or article…I’m not prejudiced) Has Been Rejected." I'm going to take the top ten theme and make my own top ten list, on the flip side of rejection! So, without further ado:

Top Ten Things To Do While You Wait For Your Book To Come Out:

#1. Google the title of your book

#2. Google your name

#3. Google your name with (debatably) relevant keywords

#4. Repeat all of the above on Blogsearch

#5. Set up Google Alerts for the title of your book and your name

#6. Check out your book's page on the publisher's website

#7. Check out your book's page on Amazon

#8. Check out your book's page on every other online retailer you can think of

#9. Stop, close the computer, remember that there is More To Life, and go for a nice long walk. Preferably pushing a double stroller two and a half miles round trip to the library for storytime.

#10. Come back and do a blog chain post!

You will note that nowhere on the list is the one and only thing that should be on the list (with the possible exceptions of #9 and #10) -- write the next book. Oh, well.

Next up on the blog chain is Mad Scientist Matt's Lair, where you can read all about whether or not you can really run your car on water, which I think is so cool because my husband and I were just talking about that the other day. What are the chances?

Check out all the other participants!

Auria Cortes
Life in Scribbletown
Polyamory From the Inside Out
For the First Time
Family On Bikes
Writes in the City
Elf Killing and Other Hobbies
Rotating Bear
Fantastical Imagination
Asian Business
Spittin' (Out Words) Like a Llama
As Yet Untitled
Mad Scientist Matt's Lair
Peregrinas
Delirious

Hey, Check it Out

2008-05-18T20:52:00.004-04:00

I'm headlining!

I don't even know that I know what "headlining" is. Material that covers the ceiling of an automobile interior? That can't be right. Providing with a headline? Whatever happened to not using the word in the definition? Publicizing highly in or as if in headlines? Ditto?

Ooooh! Being engaged as a leading performer! I like that one, I'll go with that.

As always, thanks to the lovely Merriam-Webster toolbar for the definitions. Pre-order your copy of Relief 2.2 today!

And the Winner Is...

2008-05-16T15:16:00.003-04:00

Me!

I found out this morning that I'm the grand prize winner of MotherTalk's Dirty Little Secrets Contest, inspired by the book of the same name. Bloggers were asked to dish the dirt on what makes them less-than-perfect moms...you know, those little secrets we all have, and I won!

You can read what I wrote here (it's the second post), and check out all the other dirty little secrets, too. It will make you feel a whole lot better about yours.

See You at the Fair

2008-05-15T07:45:00.005-04:00

Last night, my daughter stood in line for twenty-one minutes to ride a ride not unlike the one pictured here. (Although not, in fact, the exact one pictured here, as I got this particular picture off of a web page about things to do in Hiawassee, Georgia.)

Anyway. The Dogwood Festival is in Phoenixville once again, and last night we joined about a gazillion other families with small children tromping around the park eating fair food and riding rides and playing games of chance and parting with money faster than I thought imaginable. Fun was had by all.

My son also got to go on his very first amusement park ride, a simple little cars-around-a-track affair that he instantly decided was a train, even though the preponderance of the word "rock" and the pseudo-prehistorical decorations led me to think that it was supposed to be more of a -- I'm not sure, exactly. Flinstones take-off? Dinosaur safari?

Whatever it was, he loved it, rattling the gate as he stood not-so-patiently in line yelling "Choo, choo! Twain, twain! Choo, choo!" And then there was a steering wheel, and a horn, pretty much little-kid heaven. And he was so cute -- pretty much mama-heaven.

Then my daughter wanted to go on the bee ride, so I went and stood with her in the twenty-one minute line while my husband chased the baby around, and the second best part of my night was watching her figure out how to move the bar on the ride to raise and lower the little bee, and hearing her squeals of laughter bouncing out over the noise of the fair and echoing into the night.

The absolute best part of my night, however, was waiting in the line. I kid you not. Off in the distance one of the rides was blaring music, and as we inched along I could see my daughter straining her ears to filter out the rest of the fair noise and listen to the songs we could just barely hear above the din. They were nothing remarkable, standard fair-ride-and-dance-party fare, but something about a line from "Love Shack" apparently reminded her of something else.

"Love shack bay-beeeee!" the speakers blared, and my daughter's whole face lit up. "Saved a wretch like meeeee!" she belted back, and then proceeded to sing "Amazing Grace," at the top of her lungs, to a vague approximation of the tune of "Love Shack."

It was a wonderful night.

Recipe Question

2008-05-14T16:28:00.006-04:00

So the other day I decided that merely baking with my children isn't messy enough, we should step it up a bit and make cookies that you not only roll out (itself a disaster) but that you paint, too. Because I needed to have splotches of dyed egg-yolk-and-water mixture all over my kitchen.

Anyway, in the process of cookie creation I learned three things:

1. In the time it takes to remove the extra dough from around the cut-out cookies and drop it back in the bowl (.7 seconds? .8?) my son can scoop up and eat approximately 3.29 raw cookies.

2. Given an array of beautiful colors to paint with, the children will inevitably mix them so as to achieve the least attractive options possible.

3. In the time it takes to pop a new tray of cut out, painted cookies in the oven, (1.2 seconds? 1.3?) my daughter can filch and eat approximately 4.5 finished cookies.

All in all, an educating experience.

The recipe we used is from Betty Crocker, who really should know her cookies, but this is the second time we've made it and both times it's been a disaster. Anyone want to weigh in on what might be wrong with this recipe, and/or how I can fix it? The dough is so dry it's completely unworkable -- it looks kind of like biscuit dough before adding milk -- and the first time we tried adding another egg (because my husband insisted I couldn't possibly have remembered to add the first egg, even though I had, but that's another story) and we ended up with a sticky mess; this time I added some water, but it was still pretty dry and unworkable.

Here's the recipe:

1 1/2 cups powdered sugar
1 cup butter, softened
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 teaspoon almond extract
1 egg
2 1/2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon cream of tartar

Suggestions?

Happy Mother's Day!

2008-05-11T18:52:00.003-04:00

There's nothing quite as sweet as waking up to the sound of two children singing, is there? (Although granted, on a different day, with a different song, I might not feel the same way!)

But today it was lovely, a rousing round of "Happy Mother's Day To You!" followed by the Mysterious Present I knew they were making for me last night when I was sent out of the house, and went to Target, to watch fathers and small children wander around looking for Mother's Day gifts.

Here's what I got:

Along similar mama-lines, there's some lovely new work up on Literary Mama today, including the debut of a new column, Multi-Culti Mami. Good stuff. But as they used to say on Reading Rainbow way back when (perhaps they still do?) -- "You don't have to take my word for it!"

Happy Mother's Day, everyone!

Baby Got Back!

2008-05-09T06:09:00.001-04:00

The cover for Mama, PhD arrived in the mail yesterday, and oh my goodness. I didn't know it was coming, so when I opened the mailbox and saw a big envelope from Rutgers I got all excited. And then when I opened the envelope and saw what was inside, I got even more excited -- I have never been so psyched to see the back of a book in my entire life.

I hadn't seen the finished back copy before, and although I knew the text that had been selected, there's just something about seeing it all nice and booky-looking, with a price and an ISBN bar code and everything, that is very, very cool.

So in case you're wondering what people do when they see the final covers for their books, here is what I did, in order:

1. Check to see that my name was spelled correctly
2. Call Caroline (she wasn't in)
3. Clean up the whipped cream, eggs, and apple juice the children inexplicably got out of the refrigerator and started randomly playing with while I was doing #1 and #2
4. Proofread the entire thing
5. Get out a ruler and a pen and do some measuring and marking so I could fold the cover exactly along the lines it will be folded on when it's printed, so it looks like a real, live book
6. Scan the cover and save it on my computer
7. Get the children ready for bed
8. Start e-mailing totally random people about my book cover
9. Put the children to bed
10. Blog

And here it is! (If you click on it, you can see it large enough to actually read.)

Here it is folded, to look like it will once it's printed -- resting on top of How to Fit a Car Seat on a Camel and Twentysomething Essays by Twentysomething Writers, of course.

Like I mentioned here, you can read an excerpt of my piece from How to Fit a Car Seat on a Camel here. And while I'm doing the link thing, my essay from Twentysomething Essays by Twentysomething Writers was originally published here, and was my very first publication, and how Caroline and I met...and really, along with this piece, (also included now in Mama, PhD!) is how the whole thing got started.

I Once was Lost...

2008-05-08T08:05:00.007-04:00

But now I'm found.

Six weeks and change after running away, the kitty-rumschpringe has apparently come to an end, and our cat is back home.

I'm so happy -- I really didn't think I would ever see her again. And the children are thrilled.

Thanks to everyone for their thoughts, prayers, good wishes, and walks and drives through our neighborhood with cat food, toys, and treats!

(Oh, and she's hiding under my desk in the picture. I don't think she likes the camera.)

Check Me Out!

2008-05-06T06:41:00.000-04:00

I'm on Budget Travel!

Cool, huh?

MotherTalk Blog Tour: That Baby DVD/CD

2008-05-05T07:57:00.010-04:00

When MotherTalk sent out a call for reviewers for That Baby DVD and That Baby CD, I wrote back about a nanosecond later. I have two children in the target age range and a husband who's a musician -- how could I not sign up?

The DVD arrived and we popped in in the player, and I have to confess I wasn't as thrilled as I wanted to be. I think the whole random-video-footage-to-music thing just really isn't my thing, no matter how well done. So I watched the DVD, and I appreciated all the time and effort that went into making it, and I thought about how someone else might really get a kick out of it. But it's just not my sort of thing.

However. The music? Fabulous. Absolutely fabulous. Most of the covers on the DVD are done by Stephanie Schneiderman, with others done by various Portland artists. Oh my gosh, they are wonderful. So I was pretty excited to pop in the CD once the DVD was done, and discover three extra tracks on the CD that aren't on the DVD. We've been listening to the CD ever since...and yes, I'll admit it, I even listened to it when my children weren't around!

The song list is as follows; the last three are only on the CD:

Happiness Runs (Donovan Lietch)
Circle Game (Joni Mitchell)
Sunday Sun (Neil Diamond)
When We Grow Up (Free To Be...You and Me)
Pony Boy (Bruce Springsteen)
Brass In Pocket (The Pretenders)
Get Together (The Youngbloods)
Garden Song/Inch By Inch (Peter, Paul, and Mary)
Anything Is Possible (Jonny Lang)
Songbird (Fleetwood Mac)
These Are Days (10,000 Maniacs)
Three Little Birds (Bob Marley)
I Will (The Beatles)
St. Judy’s Comet (Paul Simon)

I was just delighted to see St. Judy's Comet on the song list, as this song is a favorite of mine, although I sing it with slightly different words: "Won't you run come see St. Judy's comet roll across the skies, and leave a trail of goldfish in its wake?" Perhaps I should suggest my version for the next edition of That Baby CD.

I was also tickled to see When We Grow Up (Free To Be...You and Me) because one of our Mama, PhD contributors, Megan Pincus Kajitani, writes about Free To Be...You and Me in her Mama, PhD essay. Incidentally, Megan's advice column for the Mama, PhD blog over on InsideHigherEd debuts today...which somehow makes me think I should suggest covering It's a Small World for the next That Baby project!

My daughter loves Garden Song and has a whole choreography worked out to it now, complete with a narration of what exactly she's planting (usually tomatoes, thanks to Oswald) and every time Pony Boy plays, my son stops whatever he is doing and goes and does this little bouncy-boppy dance that is just too cute for words.

All in all, a great CD. And I think a great DVD, too, just as I said -- not really my thing. The folks who made That Baby DVD have also done a wonderful job with their website; you can read all about the project, watch a clip, download stuff, you name it. Well worth a visit!

And for anyone interested in ordering That Baby DVD, or That Baby CD, or -- even better! -- both together, if you enter the coupon code "MotherTalk" when purchasing from the website, you'll save 20% on your entire order! Also, from now until May 18th, all orders using the coupon code "MotherTalk" will be entered in a drawing to win a new iPod nano.

Cool, huh? Check it out -- and if you get the DVD, get the CD too, really. It's worth the price just to hear St. Judy's Comet.

Mama, PhDs on InsideHigherEd, and More!

2008-05-04T19:12:00.004-04:00

I am just tickled pink to announce the launch of the new Mama, PhD blog on InsideHigherEd! Seven of our contributors will be blogging each weekday about the joys and challenges facing academic mothers, and I couldn't be more excited if I tried.

Caroline and I got to kick things off today with an introductory post; from now on the blog will run along this rotation:

Monday: The Career Coach Is In by Megan Kajitani
Tuesday: Mid-Career Mothering by Libby Gruner
Wednesday: ABCs and PhDs: Biologists at Home, by Dana Campbell, Liz Stockwell, and Susan Bassow
Thursday: Math Mom by Della Fenster
Friday: Drama Mama by Anjalee Nadkarni

Be sure to stop by and check it out, because I think it's going to be fabulous.

In other Mama, PhD contributor news, Jessica Smartt Gullion has a lovely essay up this week on Literary Mama. In A Vinyl Batgirl Notebook, Jessica offers a glimpse into the daily struggle of keeping the peace in her home, and the heroic balancing act of being a writer and a mother: "The kids are fighting again: 'She keeps goin' in my room!' 'He hitted me!' 'She push-ted me first!' 'Mama!' 'Mama!' I wipe a Clorox-coated rag across the blue paint-splattered pattern of my kitchen counters and wonder for the thousandth time what kind of person would choose this design."

Good stuff all round, yes?

10,000!

2008-04-30T07:57:00.002-04:00

Yesterday, my StatCounter registered pageload number 10,000 for my website!

Now, I don't know how good of a measure of website traffic the whole pageload thing is, and I'm fairly certain at least 5,000 of those pageloads were my own (hey look! I have a website! hey look! I still have a website!) but still: it seemed like a reason to celebrate.

(I found the image here, because I didn't feel like taking the time to make my own. I have like 10,000 other things to do.)

2008-04-28T14:19:00.003-04:00

This is why you cannot leave them alone, not even for a minute. Not even for two seconds. Not even so you can make reservations for brunch on Mother's Day.

Oh, and hubby? Since I know you read my blog? Can you please bring home some more Cheerios?

Bodies and Babies

2008-04-27T15:16:00.002-04:00

I stumbled across a wonderful post this morning on the Nurture: Center for Women and Families blog, responding to the Nutshell article I wrote for the Winter 2008 issue of Brain, Child.

Here's my favorite line:

We need to reclaim the "mama body" and celebrate it as an image of strength, warmth, and beauty.

Amen! Absolutely! Where do I sign up and how can I help?!

To Check Or Not To Check

2008-04-26T16:08:00.004-04:00

I got an e-mail on Thursday of last week (mere hours before the madness started, incidentally) saying that contributors' copies for How to Fit a Car Seat on a Camel were on their way.

And then I sort of fell off the face of the planet, and then I recovered, and I've been stalking the mailman ever since. I was so excited the other day to get a media mail package that I ripped it open as I was walking in the house to find...another book that I had ordered, and forgotten about. Sigh.

So now it's Saturday, which means if my book didn't come today, I have to wait until Monday to check again. The mail's here, I saw it arrive, but I just can't bring myself to go out and check.

I really want my book. I really don't want to wait until Monday. And as long as I don't check the mail, the potential still exists for the book to be there.

This reminds me of when I was in college, and I applied to do a summer program in Oxford with one of my closest friends. When I got an envelope in the mail from the program, I just kind of left it sit in my room for a while -- because of course once it was opened, if I didn't get in, that would be the end of my little dream.

I got in, though.

Maybe I'll go check the mail.

Another Prayer

2008-04-25T18:28:00.003-04:00

So since "prayer" is still the number-one search term that lands people on this blog, I thought I'd share a new one. This one is my own invention; I'm guessing it will only be a matter of days before my daughter adds it to her repertorie.

"Dear God, thank you for this food. Please don't let me see any of it again. In Jesus' name, amen."

A Poem

2008-04-24T20:26:00.007-04:00

So I've been meaning to do a post for National Poetry Month for -- oh, about 24 days now, I guess!

I have a scratch recording of my daughter reciting the refrain from A. A. Milne's King John's Christmas (her current favorite poem, from Now We Are Six) and my original plan was to re-record it, minus the baby chattering in the middle and all, and post it on the blog. But we've been rather busy around here, and National Poetry Month is slipping away from me a day at a time, so I decided just to go ahead and post it as is.

So here you go! I wrote out the words in case you can't understand what she's saying -- and the faux British accent is compliments of The King's Singers, who include this poem on their Kids' Stuff collection.

The Light at the End of the Tunnel...

2008-04-23T15:03:00.003-04:00

...was apparently just a mirage.

I really thought we were past the worst of it yesterday, but then this morning the baby started throwing up again so badly that the pediatrician had me take him to the emergency room.

He's fine, and they decided not to do an IV (thank you, thank you, thank you God) so we're still hovering at the "pushing fluids" stage. As in push them down, watch them come back up.

I hope we're getting close to the real end of the tunnel -- my little guy is such a trooper, but it's so hard to see him so miserable.

On a positive note, I figured out I made it through1,255 days of parenting before taking a child to the ER. That's not too bad, I think.

Rebecca O'Connell Reads Penina Levine is a Potato Pancake

2008-04-22T06:57:00.002-04:00

Check this out -- author Rebecca O'Connell reading from her newest (not yet out yet) book, Penina Levine is a Potato Pancake.

Rebecca (whom we refer to around here as "The Baby Goes Beep Lady") sent me this clip, along with a link to its debut on Story Pockets!, the blog of the Children's Department of the Carnegie Library in Pittsburgh. And I thought, a children's library with a blog?! How very cool.

You can see that post here, but be forewarned it's a very cool blog, so plan to spend some time reading and adding books to your wish list!

Well, This is Fun

2008-04-20T10:19:00.006-04:00

First off, the big news: I'm 30!!! Yay!

My birthday was actually yesterday, but I was still feeling too sick to blog. And on that note, if you have a sensitive stomach? Maybe best to skip the rest of this post.

So I wanted to do something wild and crazy to mark the end of my twenties, and I'd ruled out bellybutton piercing (the second baby really destroyed my bellybutton) and tattooing (for now at least) and settled on graffiti. There's a bridge in Phoenixville that's being torn down, and I thought, perfect! I'll go do some graffiti on it, and it won't matter because it's being knocked down anyway, and it will be my wild and crazy thing. So I told my husband about this plan, and he thought it was cool, and offered to get me a can of spray paint. And I was horrified -- I'm not going to spray paint graffiti, I'm just going to, like, write my name with a ballpoint pen. Or maybe a marker.

As it turned out, I didn't get a chance to do either. (Last chance, sensitive readers, to stop reading.) I spent the last night of my twenties being violently sick. And then I spent my birthday trip to the circus lying on the couch drinking pedialyte. And then, this morning as my family was heading off to church, (literally right as they were getting ready to walk out the door) my son threw up. All over his brand-new Hartstrings outfit, the poor baby, and when I told my daughter we'd better stay home from Sunday School she cried.

So all in all, not too happy over here. But still there is grace -- grace in the form of my husband, who is taking care of us all, grace in the form of my daughter, who isn't sick, grace that my son threw up at 8:14 in the house instead of 8:15 in the car.

When I was in the worst of it my husband called our doctor, and he told him to give me a teaspoon of water every five minutes until I could get in to be seen, and as I'm listening to my husband's end of the conversation my not-yet-sick son comes over to the bed with his toy watering can.

"Wa'can, mama!" he says, lifting it up to show me.

"That's a nice watering can," I say, trying to smile.

"Wa'can," he says more urgently. "Ahhhh."

And then he tips the watering can up to my lips. He was bringing me water because he heard daddy say I needed it. What a love.

My daughter spent the weekend gently wrapping my ankle in various impromptu bandages (towels, napkins, diaper wipes) because once I went to the doctor, she was convinced I had a broken leg, a la Curious George.

"There you go, mama," she says, tenderly patting my leg. "You're going to feel all better now."

And of course I would move, and the wrap would fall off, and she'd come rushing over to do it all over again.

So I am very loved, if still somewhat sick, and I guess all I can do now is hold my sick little boy, and cuddle him, and tip the watering can up to his lips.

Contest Announcement from a Guest Blogger

2008-04-18T12:14:00.004-04:00

Uh, hi...Bill here. Since Elrena is a bit under the weather today, she asked me to write a blog post for her.

Are you, like me, a male under forty years of age? If so, I have a contest that's NOT for you!!!

If you are a female and 40 years of age or older, you are eligible to enter the Search for the Dynamos contest, sponsored by the Pond's Institute, makers of fine, uhh....*checks web site*.... cleansing towlettes, apparently, and other beauty products.

If you win, you get to spend six days and five nights in fabulous London, England, home of the Clink museum, and attend the premiere of Mamma Mia!, the movie, which is based on the Broadway show of the same name, which combines the music of 1974 Eurovision Song Contest winners ABBA with some sort of plot with which I am unfamiliar.

If you are interested in entering, please see the contest rules at www.ponds.com/dynamos.aspx.

That is all.

(This announcement brought to you by Mother Talk, and, apparently, the people who love them.)

Berkeley Blurb

2008-04-11T17:26:00.002-04:00

Check this out! (Scroll down to the Author Note at the bottom of the page -- or, if you're really impatient, just click here.)

Cool, huh?

MotherTalk Book Tour: The Cure for Modern Life

2008-04-10T14:51:00.006-04:00

Matthew lives in a trendy Philadelphia loft, drives a swanky Porsche, and owns the nicest pair of leather gloves imaginable. He can afford them; he isn't exactly struggling to make ends meet on his upper-six-figure Big Pharma salary.

Amelia is a bioethicist who loathes everything she sees Matthew as representing: Big Pharma, companies with dubious ethics, people making millions off of drugs whose values are suspect at best. Oh, and did I mention she and Matthew used to be an item?

Danny is a homeless ten-year-old who will do anything -- anything -- to save his three-year-old baby sister. Throw these three characters in together, along with a brilliant research scientist, a drug-addicted mother, and the world's worst boss, and you've got The Cure for Modern Life.

On a story level, I was completely captivated by Lisa Tucker's book. She crafts her characters so expertly that you can't help seeing things from their perspective -- which gets really fun when different point-of-view characters want different things. I devoured the novel in fewer sittings than I will own up to, and then had too much fun trying to identify some of the places she references in the story, places not far from where I live!

The best part of the novel, for me, wasn't even the story itself -- it was all of the wonderfully tangled ethical questions raised in the text. My husband and I spent a long time working through some of these tangles as I read and afterwards, and that's always the highest praise I can give a book: it got me thinking and talking about it, long after the final page was turned.

I had the privilege of going to hear Lisa read from her book last night, and as soon as she started speaking I knew I was in for a treat. She began with the story of how she was working on her PhD when she decided to try her hand at writing something else, and it was all I could do not to laugh out loud because of course I, too, was working on my PhD when I decided to try writing something else, and then one thing led to another. She's a great speaker, and I loved getting the chance to glimpse some of the behind-the-scenes work of her writing and research.

Lisa still has several more stops scheduled for her book tour, so if you live near any of the places she'll be visiting I highly recommend going to hear her talk -- I really had a great time.

I came home with another one of her books -- The Song Reader -- so I'll let you know what I think of that one once I finish it. But in the meantime, check out The Cure for Modern Life -- and then e-mail me and we can wrangle together with some fabulous ethical humdingers.

Visit MotherTalk to see what other reviewers are saying!

Writing Advice Meme, Part III

2008-04-09T21:09:00.004-04:00

It's time for the third and final post for the writing advice meme! Get ready, this one is going to be good.

#3: Backup

Save absolutely everything you write. Then backup your files. And then back them up again.

If you're shaking your head going, that's it? That's the great revelation we've all been waiting for? I'm willing to wager you're one of the lucky few who has never crashed a hard drive or otherwise lost computer files!

Because I do all of my writing on the computer, all of my writing is therefore subject to the whims of the computer. And much as I love my computer, I don't trust it. Things happen -- viruses, software issues, hardware issues, you name it -- and I don't want to lose my stuff. So I back things up. And then I back them up again.

When I was at Messiah (where we came up with the brilliance that is #3: Backup) we talked about why it is that writers don't obsessively save their work. One of the reasons put forth is that there's a certain amount of hubris needed to compulsively backup your files, something in you that says yes, I'm that good and what I've written is that good, I need to back it up on a CD and an external hard drive and e-mail copies to myself, to boot.

But I don't think of it as hubris. In the movie Erin Brockovich, there's a line where Julia Roberts is talking about her work on a legal case, and she says "That is my work, my sweat, and my time away from my kids!" And her voice kind of breaks on the word "kids," which always got to me, even before I had children.

That's how I feel about my writing. I'm not trying to say it's all good, or it's even all worth saving -- but it's my work, my sweat, my time away from my kids, and that makes it worth preserving so I don't have to waste time doing things over again.

So! There you have it, my three pieces of writing advice: Bounce, Bond, and Backup. Happy writing! Have fun!

Writing Advice Meme, Part II

2008-04-08T16:13:00.004-04:00

It's time for part two of the writing advice meme!

#2: Bond

In the March/April issue of Poets & Writers there's a wonderful interview with Pat Strachan, senior editor at Little, Brown and forty-year veteran of the publishing industry. When asked her advice for aspiring writers, she said this:

"Get to know other writers. Not so much to learn how to write, but to meet people and learn something about the professional way to do things, so you won't be sending out e-mails from the blue. Knowing writers will convince other writers to read your work, and possibly give a comment on your work, which might be helpful in selling it. My advice would be to not be alone."

And that, in a nutshell, is my second piece of advice: "my advice would be to not be alone."

There's this thought floating around out there that writing is a lonely work, involving long stretches of silence and solitude -- and let me just tell you, whoever thinks that about the writing life certainly doesn't hang out with me! I wish I could press a button and put an audio link on this post, so you can hear me negotiating with my children for five more minutes of computer time and reminding them that we don't throw play-dough and we don't throw crackers and we don't hit each other and telling my son -- again -- to spit out that mouthful of rocks. It's never quiet around here, and I am almost never alone.

And I still think Strachan's advice is good. Having a community of people who "get" the life of the writer (in whatever form it takes!) is a wonderful thing; having such a community with more experienced writers who are willing to take the time to help a newbie learn the ropes is priceless. I was unbelievably fortunate to find such a community over at Literary Mama, and I can honestly say, to a woman, those people are awesome. One of the great strengths of the internet age, I think, is that we can find communities like this with relatively little hassle -- if you're in the market, try here and here for starters.

So that's point number two: bond with your fellow writers. Don't try to go it alone. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go make somebody spit out the rocks again.

Writing Advice Meme, Part I

2008-04-06T16:22:00.004-04:00

Mamalicious! tagged me for this meme about a thousand years ago (give or take) and it's somehow taken me until now to blog about it. The idea is to post three pieces of writing advice, and I thought of two instantly and had to wait a while before thinking of the third -- but when I finally thought of something, I thought of something good.

It's so good, that I'm going to do this in three installments and prolong the brilliant one. Wait for it!

I'm calling these the Three Bees: Bounce, Bond, and Backup (that last one's the gem).

#1: Bounce

If you saw the movie The Incredibles, you may remember the short at the beginning of the movie called Boundin' -- it's the story of a fluffy white tap-dancing sheep who gets shorn, and then gets all down about it. Until a friendly jackalope comes hopping along and teaches him that life's just like that, you can't waste your time getting all mopey, you just have to bound, bound, bound and rebound. (Yup, if you know the song, now it's stuck in your head!)

It's a catchy little ditty, and a happy little flick, and I love the image of the too-pink sheep bouncing up and down as he learns to roll with punches. I think of Boundin' when I'm sending pieces out on submission -- some of them may need to bounce around for a while before they find a good home. So when I get a rejection, I bound, bound, bound and rebound, and I try whenever possible to send things back out on another submission the very same day. No moping. Just hit resend, as it were.

The only trouble with the Bound principle is that life is unpredictable and I may not always have time to research publications the day I get rejections. So now I try to do that beforehand. When I write a piece, I make a little (or long) list of the possible places I could send it, with notes about things I may have to change in the piece to tailor it to each publication. (For example: one of my lists for a personal essay I wrote last year listed a "crunchy" publication as a possible venue, if I took out the reference to my daughter eating goldfish crackers; and then a "mainstream" publication as another possible venue, if I took out the reference to nursing a two-and-a-half-year-old. And so on and so forth.)

As it happens, I never got to put that list to good use because the piece landed on the first try. Sometimes when I get acceptance letters now it actually throws me for a minute, because I was so ready to try the next place on my list...but I adjust, you know, fairly quickly.

So! That's my first piece of writing advice. I'll try to post the next one in a few days.

Jesus is Not There

2008-04-03T10:30:00.002-04:00

We've been hit by some bug over here that we're working our way through with high fevers and a lot of snot. Glamorous stuff, this.

Today my husband (on the mend) took the day off of work to take care of the rest of us, and my daughter and I got to sleep in until almost 10:00. She woke up very chatty, and we were cuddling and talking about how keys open doors and pandas eat leaves (two subjects inextricably linked in her mind) when all of a sudden she sits up straight.

"Jesus is not behind the potty," she announced.

"What?" I said.

"He is not," she repeated. "Jesus is not behind the potty."

I wasn't quite sure how to respond to that one -- Jesus isn't behind the potty? Was he supposed to be behind the potty? Were you looking for him behind the potty? I probably should have tried to make it a Teachable Moment and talked about where Jesus is, but -- blame the fever or the snot -- I was just a little too nonplussed about her assertion of where he wasn't.

Some Updates

2008-03-29T19:31:00.004-04:00

So the storm wasn't too bad, despite my fears. And we did have a wonderful time in Virginia.

While we were there Caroline and I met with a small group of students, faculty, and community members at the University of Richmond to talk about Mama, PhD, and it was really cool. I'm even more psyched about the book coming out now, if that's possible.

Then the next day we met with a writer who also works at the university, and she interviewed us for a profile she'll be writing. Which was totally fun, and I got to feel all like a celebrity for a couple of hours or so, until I got back to the hotel room and saw that my children had ground about seventy-five thousand goldfish crackers into the rug, and then I just felt like plain old me again.

I was trying to decide on my absolute favorite moment of the trip so I could blog about it, and I really think it's a three-way tie:

#1 would have to be when Terry (the woman interviewing Caroline and I) asked us a question about if we thought some of the inequality of gender in the workplace was due to the fact that when women leave their children they feel guilty, but when men leave their children they don't -- and both Caroline and I started laughing, because really, we're not the people to answer that question! We couldn't even if we wanted to, as apparently both of our husbands are firmly in the running for greatest husband ever.

#2 would be my son and the "noo-noo" (read: anything even remotely resembling a vacuum cleaner, in this case a mop) at Caroline's sister Libby's house, where my son very solicitously mopped the entire front porch and most of the surrounding sidewalk. Again, and again, and again.

#3 would be my daughter as we were getting ready to come home -- I'd been talking about our Mama, PhD talk and our interview, and suddenly she throws her arms around my knees and hugs me tight and goes, "Thanks so much for doing this, mama." And yeah, it's probably a line she got from Curious George or VeggieTales or Oswald, but still -- it made me pretty happy.

So that's the trip! In other news, I did some blog updating today; check out all the cool new links. Oh and the AdSense ads are gone. They were getting on my nerves.

Definition

2008-03-25T20:27:00.004-04:00

Inconceivable: Driving four and a half hours to meet friends in Virginia, nonstop, with a one-year-old and a three-year-old in tow, and then turning around and driving back two days later, five hours in the car this time, no stops, no tantrums, no tears.

And yet, we did it.

I'll be reaping the benefits tomorrow, I'm sure, so I'll plan on posting some highlights once the storm passes.

Happy Birthday Dear Hubby, Happy Birthday to You!!

2008-03-21T19:43:00.008-04:00

It's kind of hard to know how to celebrate a birthday that falls on Good Friday -- especially a 30th birthday, don't you think?

My children were bouncing off the walls this morning singing Happy Birthday, and then my daughter was falling all over herself going "Marshmallows! We got you marshmallows, daddy! We wrapped them up and they're downstairs! They're marshmallows, daddy!!" And so they were; she decided what to get daddy for his birthday all by herself (obviously?) and then picked them out and wrapped them with much pomp and circumstance.

And it was all very lovely, but then I had to leave for the Good Friday service at our church, where I was dancing to Kristyn Getty's The Power of the Cross in a church stripped of all adornment for a congregation clad almost entirely in black. And it was lovely, too, in a very different sort of way.

Then it was off to pick up the cake and several more rounds of singing Happy Birthday, which was again lovely, but more lovely in the original, we-got-you-marshmallows sense than in the somber, Good Friday sense. (I really wanted the cake to say "Have a wonderful happy birthday and a solemn and dignified Good Friday observance," but it was only a little cake and there wasn't room.)

I really just wanted my husband to have a good day, and be as happy that he was born as I am, if indeed that is possible. I'm pretty stinking happy about that fact, really, I don't know if anyone else can quite reach that level of happiness about it. Even him.

What I didn't plan on was spending the night making up posters for a missing cat, who somehow in all the Good Friday/birthday excitement, got out of the house (she's an indoor cat) and ran away. So, if any of my readers live in my area, and you see my cat, could you please pick her up for me, and let me know she's safe? Her name is Pansie.

Glad Someone's in Charge!

2008-03-20T15:07:00.004-04:00

I woke up in the middle of the night last night with a sore throat, and have been feeling sick and spaced out all day. At lunch, I let my son sit in a "Big Kid" (read: regular) chair next to his sister rather than buckle him into his highchair, and as we were eating I was thinking about how well that was working out.

Until it gradually dawned on me that he wasn't, in fact, sitting on the chair, but rather standing on the table. And I had no idea, really, how long he'd been there, and he's just calmly standing there munching on his sandwich, and I'm looking at him thinking he should probably get down, but I feel too sick to know how to go about accomplishing that.

Perhaps I did some of this musing out loud, because my daughter asked me if he needed to get down, and I said yes and then just kind of sat there, looking at him, watching him standing on the table eating his sandwich.

My daughter looked right at him.

"Do you want to go in your highchair?" she asked, very directly.

"No," he said, munching his sandwich.

She pointed at his chair. "Then get down right now," she concluded.

And he did.