Friday, November 28, 2014

Happy Birthday Payson :)

We spent the morning at Hoots with the Miller's celebrating Payson's birthday.  The first time I brought Asher here he cried the whole time and wouldn't let me put him on the ground (much less any of the equipment).  He was a little timid for the first ten minutes, but then just let loose.  

This kid climbed everything, walked over balance beams, went down the big slides all by himself... he is getting braver before our eyes.

Best thing about Hoots?  The parents can play too :)

Running the gauntlet.



Payson with Ashley & Eric.

Ben and Asher going down the big slide.

Timeout to take a call...

Leading the pack.

Free throw contest-- Ben won 12 to 10.

Balance beam!  This thing was about 2 feet off the ground... pretty impressive for such a tiny person.

Belly.

The birthday girl and her buddy :)




Going down the big slide all by himself :)

My Twins

...sometimes it's just spooky...

Thursday, November 27, 2014

Happy Thanksgiving!!

On Thanksgiving Eve we donned our Cramster t-shirts along with Family Bruss and had a moment of silence for the year of not-togetherness (that is the anomaly for this holiday).  
Family Bruss: We love you.

We started our day making Asher clean our house.  Just kidding.  He really loves sweeping.  Who are we to stop him?


We fed the baby...

...fixed the garbage disposal...

...went for a morning walk...

...nakedly prepared some Thanksgiving goodness...

...snacked on dessert before lunch...

...Asher helped stir the green bean casserole...

...we played outside while everything cooked...




Pointing at the moon.


Our Thanksgiving Feast.

Last week we got a surprise gift in the mail from the executive director of Iowa City Hospice.  I had let it slip at a meeting that we weren't making a turkey and the amazing Maggie Elliott sent us a care package of chocolate turkeys so that we wouldn't go without.  Thank you Maggie :)

Cheers!


Such a dude.  A full dude.

Post-meal coma time.


Checking out the moon.








Things I'm Thankful For (Spoiler Alert...these are all Asher videos)

I'm thankful that I'm the proud momma of a little lion cub.


I'm thankful that my child is obsessed with babies and wants to feed them and give them pacis (whether they are real or play).

I'm thankful that my child has mastered the head nod and cup wave while listening to hip hop.

I'm thankful that the driver of this pick up truck, illegally transporting something they shouldn't be (*cough* meth), didn't catch me taking pictures of them with my cell phone at the stop light.







Tuesday, November 25, 2014

Days Like Today

I don't know about the rest of you, but today has me uneasy.  It has me angry, sad, uncomfortable, wishing for answers, questioning what kind of world we live in, and not sure where I fit into making change.

Racism hits me in a different way since I've become a mom.  Not because I see more sadness or because suddenly injustice and disparity are more apparent.  It's not because of what is, it is because of what isn't.   As a white mom of a white son, I'm not up at night worrying about what might happen if someday Asher gets pulled over by the cops during a routine traffic stop.  I'm not worried that he might be mistaken as a suspect in an open investigation and be shot while walking home from school.  I won't have to wonder if his teachers are going to make assumptions about his intelligence or his capabilities based on the color of his skin, that employers will think twice about how he would fit in with the "culture" of their workplace, that he will be out-offered and out-earned in this world because of how he looks.  I'm not worried that the perceived discrimination he feels throughout his life will affect his long-term health.  I'm not worried that he might die young because of someone else's prejudice and hate.   And what the F is that.  How is it that I have this "gift" of not worrying about these things simply because I was born white and my son was born white, but my friends and my family, who are mothers of black children, can't say the same.

While I brainstorm (and solicit feedback for things to do- example, a colleague from school recently posted that two of her favorite things are feeling safe and books and that she was making a donation to the Ferguson public library and encouraged others to do the same) the thing I will focus on in the moment is to parent purposefully.  To try my very best to raise a child with a gigantic open heart who sees differences and celebrates them.  Who isn't afraid of things that are uncomfortable and hard to talk about and even harder to change.

The public health part of me thinks that an area that I can focus on are the rates of incarceration and recidivism among non-whites compared to whites.  Spoiler alert: this is a HUGE problem on so many levels.  But I don't know.  This is one of those "where do you start?"s -- and like gun violence, school shootings, sexual assault on college campuses-- news coverage and heart wrenching dialogue hasn't really made a big dent.

Whoever's got answers, I'd love to hear them.



Things Worth Watching/Reading:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T_98ojjIZDI

http://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/ferguson-wasnt-black-rage-against-copsit-was-white-rage-against-progress/2014/08/29/3055e3f4-2d75-11e4-bb9b-997ae96fad33_story.html

http://qz.com/250701/12-things-white-people-can-do-now-because-ferguson/




Side Note Hours Later:
Ask me how happy I am that I'm married to someone who comes home and while playing with our son and watching Baby Einstein puppets engages in an hours long conversation about race relations in the U.S.  Just ask.


Sunday, November 23, 2014

I have a disease.... in latin.... Gigantus pansiaitus.

I am a giant pansy.  Especially with animals.

I cry when I see an animal within 50 feet of a road because it COULD get hit by a car.  I cried when I saw a turkey in a park in New Haven because I felt bad that it probably felt lost and scared.  I cry during Transformers because Bumblebee is juuuuuust animal enough that seeing him get punched feels the same as seeing a puppy get punched (thank god that's never happened, if I ever saw a puppy get punched I'm pretty sure I would end up in jail).

So last night Ben and I sit down to watch How To Train Your Dragon 2.  It should be said that I sob uncontrollably at two, no three, different parts of the first movie.  So knowing this, I was experiencing a lot of anxiety over the unknown sob parts of the sequel.  Which is why I love my sister, who lovingly obliged my desperate pleas to spoil the movie by telling me if anything happens to Toothless, if anyone dies, do any dragons get hurt, and how does it end.   Mal filled me in AFTER the first sob part, so I was already a little emotionally unhinged.  After her synopsis, I elected not to finish the movie, but someday when I'm feeling extra brave I will do it.

I need to find a cure for this before Asher is old enough to watch movies with us and I potentially pass on this not-so-amazing trait as a learned behavior.  


Top Ten Movies I Should Have Never Watch/Books I Should Have Never Read
1.  White Fang
2.  Where the Red Fern Grows
3.  Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken
4.  Turner and Hooch  (this should really be number one...)
5.  Brave
6.  The Land Before Time
7.  The Lion King
8.   The Art of Racing in the Rain
9.   All Dogs Go to Heaven
10.  Old Yeller

**Not even kidding, just writing that list has me in tears, I need a beer.**


Can I Get A.... Uh Oh

Right when I think I've got this 'good' mom thing down.... *sigh*.

On Friday, Asher and I both started to get hungry around 9:00 a.m.   Well, I suppose I was guessing that Asher was hungry, he can't say "Mom I'm hungry" quite yet.  I made that inference after watching him attack the fridge with his baby broom, run in circles in our kitchen screaming "NAAAAANIIIIIIIII!!!!!" (nani=banana), and angrily shake his empty snack container at me chanting "Moah peeez!  Moah peez!  Moah peez!" (moah peez = more please).   So I looked in the cabinets for granola bars or apple sauce or crackers.  We had all of  it, but I was hungry too and none of those things were calling to me.  So I took a minute, amidst the hunger mayhem (e.g. Asher) that was destroying our house on a rampage to find food, and thought about what we should eat.

Street tacos.

The answer was street tacos.  So at 9:15 in the morning, I loaded Asher up in the minivan, put a baseball hat on over my unshowered, disheveled hair and we began the 15 minute trek to Taco Cabana (whose web page proudly boasts a patron testimonial "I could eat at Taco Cabana 5 times a week!" -- my rebuttal: you wouldn't do that if you have any interest in avoiding a bathroom emergency...story to follow...).

As we pulled out of our driveway, I was fishing around for a new CD when I found an old mix tape from my youth with the title "Hiphopopotomus" written in my sharpie handwriting.   Yahtzee.    I estimate the CD had survived since circa 2005.  Seconds later Asher and I were bopping our heads to some Black Eyed Peas and NERD.  

When we arrived at our destination, I ordered a kids meal with a diet coke (diet coke for me) and three street tacos.   We were behind another car, so I turned the music back up so Asher could jam.  Our turn came and the woman reached out the window to hand me Asher's kids meal and then gave me this look as she also passed the teeny tiny kids cup of diet coke over.  I knew the look, "Not only are you getting your kid greasy tacos for breakfast but you are going to give him caffeine?".  I didn't feel like explaining to her that Asher had eaten breakfast at 6 a.m., and this was first lunch, and the caffeine was for me because I'd already been awake for almost four hours and we weren't even close to noon yet... so I just smiled politely and put the diet coke in the cup holder close to Ash (just to poke the bear).  (Note: sometimes when I'm not feeling smug or overconfident I will explain to people that the thing that looks like terrible parenting really isn't and here's why... because I'm prone to oversharing, especially with strangers).   So while I'm thinking 'I'm so funny and she thinks I'm a bad parent but I'm really not a bad parent', the cd (which is still turned up quite loud) changes songs to Jay-z's "Can I get a...".   As soon as I heard the "What" (first word of the song) I knew what was coming, and I couldn't stop it.   I had street tacos in one hand and a credit card and wallet in the other and so before I could drop one hand of stuff, the rest of the first sentence had played.  I dropped my head in shame.   And then the background music started.  To my delight horror Asher immediately kicked into gear with the hip hop beat, complete with squealing and arms waving in the air while laughing hysterically.

Now in my defense, I had absolutely no recollection of the unedited version of that song being on this CD.  Further in my defense, had I not had my hands full of Taco Cabana-ness Asher would never had heard the first line of the song.   And FURTHER in my defense, mistakes happen and at least my child is developing an eclectic taste in music (yeah, I know that last argument was weak, no toddler should ever listen to unedited Jay-z songs, not ever).

I turned the music down and passed the horrified worker my credit card.  I could see her mind working as she looked at me.  I imagined her thought process: Who is this imposter?  What has she done with the good mom who normally drives that minivan, wears a Yale baseball hat, and probably plays disney classics for her child... should I call the police?  Is real mom hog tied in the back of the van?  This probably isn't even this crazy woman's credit card, she is probably force feeding that kidnapped child greasy tacos and caffeine and paying for it with their parents money that she stole along with the van and the baseball hat and the pile of Eric Carle books on the front seat!".   Luckily, she was clearly too afraid of the wild card woman in the drive thru to take action, and Asher and I made it home with our food without any signs of sirens.

...I'm typically skeptical of street food that comes with an overabundance of lime slices...
 I feel like they are telling you that it is your responsibility to kill the bacteria that will otherwise food poison you when you eat your food...








Taco Cabana Story Part II: KARMA

So after Asher and I take down an entire to go bag of Taco Cabana street tacos, he starts rubbing his eyes and whispering "paci".  Nap time.   I put Ash to bed and sat down to start writing Christmas cards.  After about two minutes I can hear him giggling over the monitor.  Which either means he is gossiping with his stuffed animals and they are being particularly good conversationalists, or he pooped.  I decide to give it a couple more minutes (if he is just jibber jabbering and hasn't pooped he eventually falls asleep...).  But then I heard, "Uh oh.... uh oh mommy...uh oh poooooooo uh oh pooooooo".   What do I say as I'm running to his room?  Oh shit.  Of course.  Asher had indeed pooped.  But he had also taken it upon himself to remove his diaper after pooping, which he had thrown in the middle of the room.  While there were little poops littering the ground around the diaper, apparently some had gotten on the crib sheet as well, and he had stomped on it and danced around and there were little poop footprints all over a mint green cotton backdrop.  There were tiny poop handprints on the crib railing.  And Asher himself was covered in poop.  From the bottoms of his feet to his forehead (gross).  One thing you figure out quickly as a new parent is how to assess a crisis situation, prioritize action items, and figure out what can wait in about .2 seconds.  So off we went to the tub to get the poop off of his face (action item #1).  Once Asher was clean, all linens and stuffed animals were removed and tossed into the hallway, the mattress was sprayed and cleaned, the wood crib slats wiped down, and the carpet scrubbed.  Then the bed was remade, Asher was reclothed, new stuffed animals were strategically placed in corners, blankets were tucked in around his little body, and Asher finally took his nap.

Lesson learned.  The universe smites you a little when you feed your kid tacos and let him listen to Jay-z right before nap time.





...hours later, it was like we had never had an embarassing drive thru 
experience followed by a bathroom emergency....

c











Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Next Step: Trying Out For Nuttin' But Stringz


...okay so maybe I'm not going to be recruited to a hip hop fiddle group overnight, BUT after my introductory 30 minute lesson today I can kind of play twinkle twinkle little star.  
That is something, right?  

I have a floppy elbow, can barely hold the bow (those little horse hair suckers are heavier than you think!), and need to learn to make longer strokes... but I'm fairly certain despite these shortcomings I could be the next Lindsey Sterling.



...heading to my lesson, getting pumped up with caffeine and Eminem 
(I know how little sense this makes...)

 Icing my first fiddle injury 
(just kidding, it's not a fiddle injury, but that would be really funny wouldn't it?)

Super excited :)