All Ya Need Is …

Filed under:Heh,Mothering — posted by Anwyn on December 10, 2009 @ 6:38 pm

Him, throwing a small fit over a seemingly minor issue.

Me: “I think you must be tired.”

Him, wailing: “You always say I’m tired and I never am.”

Me: “When you throw a fit like this over things that aren’t a big deal, I think it must be because you’re tired.”

Him: “Well, I’m not.”

Me: “Then I guess you must need some cuddles and some kisses!” (Suiting action to the word.)

Him: “No, I don’t need anything except my way.”

What Happens When the Government and the Medical Establishment Are One

Filed under:Mothering,Oh Hell No,Politics,Priorities — posted by Anwyn on September 8, 2009 @ 10:00 pm

Oh, and when the government’s also responsible for building an extension onto your housing: 1) If you disagree with or question the government doctors, the government social workers take your children; 2) If you question the government’s failure to provide the proper housing, the government social workers say you can’t care for your child because you lack adequate housing and they take your children.

This is chilling.

Via Instapundit.

Message Problem

Filed under:Mothering,Politics — posted by Anwyn on September 2, 2009 @ 10:02 pm

So the president will address schoolchildren at noon on Tuesday, Sept. 8.

Let me stipulate up front that my child doesn’t start school till Wednesday, Sept. 9, by the scheduling of the school and not by me keeping him home. Which raises the question of whether or not his kindergarten teacher will record the speech and show it once school starts.

I’ve read a lot of opinions, from (I think) childless AP and Ace to Mama Venom and Daddy Vodka–one “Keep your kids home,” one “Really?” one “Yeah, I can sorta see that,” one “Pick your battles,” and Keep-’em-home Vodka’s follow-up answer to AP.

As Vodkapundit agrees in that last link, the problem is probably not the probably-pap speech itself. The problem is twofold: 1) The arrogance inherent in the president declaring himself the teacher for the time being and 2) The smacking–even if it is just a smacking without substance–of the Little Octobrists. This is not the Presidential Physical Fitness Award, with an impersonal established award for any student meeting the stated criteria. Obama doesn’t establish much, as a matter of fact, that he doesn’t then have to backtrack on, as the administration has already done once on this here speech. But what he does establish, or attempt to establish, is statist all the way. If the president really just wants to send a personal message to students to work hard and stay in school, that’s one thing, but when heavy statism is all you’ve shown yourself willing to sell, why should you be surprised when parents don’t like even the bare possibility of it being sold to their kids behind their backs?

And why does the president believe anybody’s kids need his personal message, even if it is just about staying in school and working hard? I think there’s a lot of merit to Kate’s point that if you make a big deal, the kids will make a bigger deal of it in their minds than you otherwise would. Fortunately I do not have to choose whether the Bean will hear the president in school or not … this year. Like so many things about statism, though, this could be, or try to be, the thin end of a wedge. And, as always, I can’t help but picture the outrage had Bush put an address into schools, something he did not do even right after 9-11. He did not appoint himself our children’s personal grief counselor. The president is not our kids’ teacher or nanny, either.

And: Nice Deb goes fairly nuclear.

And also: What I’m trying to say is that in this case, the message might well be the messenger himself. The essential fact that the president puts an address into the schools sends a message of statism, whatever the speech itself does or doesn’t say–that children should work hard because the president says so. That’s not why they should, and they shouldn’t be taught otherwise.

Faces of The Bean

Filed under:Mothering — posted by Anwyn on May 14, 2009 @ 5:16 pm

The Observer:

(After two different unbagged two-liters of Diet Coke had rolled off the bottom tier of the grocery cart and had been put into the seat with him): “Dad’s Diet Coke is going to be fizzier than he expects.”

The Negotiator:

(While a favorite song is playing in the car): “Can we listen to this one again?”

Me: “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Him: …

Him (while song is at about the middle): “Can you start it over from the beginning?”

Me: “Not now. Wait till it’s over.”

Him: “Thanks!”

The Seeker:

Him: “I can’t find the TiVo remote.”

His dad: “Did you look under these blankets here? That’s the first place I would look.”

Him (after search reveals no remote under blankets): “Where’s the second place you would look?”

Conversation of the Year

Filed under:It's My Life,Mothering — posted by Anwyn on December 31, 2008 @ 7:22 pm

Me, in front seat, speaking of something completely unconnected: “…and that’s how decent people should behave!”

A little, thoughtful voice from the back seat: “Are you a decent girl?”


Happy New Year, everybody.

Conversation of a Sunday

Filed under:It's My Life,Mothering,Photoblogging,Religion — posted by Anwyn on November 16, 2008 @ 11:27 pm

Son: I like that stained-glass window.

Me: Yeah, me too.

Son: What’s it of?

Me: Well, there’s a cross in the middle there.

Son: I think it’s God’s eye.

The Resurrection of the Long Road Trip?

Filed under:It's My Life,Mothering — posted by Anwyn on November 14, 2008 @ 12:45 pm

What, did it die? Well, yeah, at least in my family. When I was a kid we drove from Washington, the state, to North Carolina and Kentucky every summer to see my grandparents and aunts, uncles, and cousins. Five days in the car or else in our full-size Dodge cargo van. We also sometimes drove to Wyoming to see yet more aunts and uncles. That van was the It Vehicle for us kids. There was one bench seat in the back with no seatbelts, and that was it. We could and did spread out blankets, lie down at full length in the floor, play cards, play games, read, sleep as long as we liked, awaken to see one of our parents getting a speeding ticket, usually somewhere in the Plains.

It’s not just the affordability of air travel that has killed this tradition before my son ever participated in it; it’s also the carseat laws and even the seatbelt laws. I know this doesn’t stop other families with children The Bean’s age (five), but I simply haven’t been able bring myself to coop him up in his rigid plastic carseat for several days on end. While I still greatly enjoy the concept of the long road trip, it’s just too depressing to think about him trapped in that seat, unable even to lie down in the back seat should he want to sleep (and as he gets bigger, the carseat is a less and less comfortable place to sleep). So the long trip remains a pipe dream. We’ve done a few two-day stints (about six hours per day) and one experimental trip of sixteen hours in one day, with multiple 30-minute breaks. He broke down only once, at about six in the evening, but at midnight, 10 minutes from our destination, he thoughtfully remarked, “I like airplanes the best.” I can’t say I blame him. If you’re a) not driving and b) can hardly move, a road trip is not the fun I remember from my own childhood.

He just graduated to a backless booster that uses the “adult seatbelt,” a fact of which he’s very proud. We’ll see if this plus the advent of the portable DVD player encourages me to get back out on the road.

I’m Cooler Than Than Tom Hanks

Filed under:Cool,Heh,Mothering — posted by Anwyn on October 4, 2008 @ 9:04 pm

…or anybody else with two Oscars. Because Emma Thompson says so. Yeah!

Wonder if it’s still cooler after three … Oscars, that is.

Dear Birthday Express Dot Com

Filed under:Good Grief,It's My Life,Mothering — posted by Anwyn on August 27, 2008 @ 9:33 am

On what planet is “Hot Wheels” a “sports” theme for a child’s birthday party, but soccer is not? Thanks for zip.

Conversation of the Day

Filed under:Children's Books,It's My Life,Mothering — posted by Anwyn on August 26, 2008 @ 9:08 pm

Me, hunting for the particular book the Bean wanted to read at bedtime: “Let’s see, if I were Jeremy Fisher, where would I be?”

Son: “You’d be wherever Jeremy Fisher is right now.”


Conversation of Yesterday

Filed under:Heh,It's My Life,Mothering — posted by Anwyn on June 26, 2008 @ 6:20 pm

I’m a mother prone to a little hyperbole. “You took the longest nap in the world!” is a regular comment of mine on the rare occasions when the Bean does nap. Because he’s still battling jet lag, he’s been napping quite a bit this week. He’s always accepted uncritically the idea that whatever we’re talking about at the moment was the [biggest, best, coolest, longest] in the world. Until last night. He looked at me suspiciously and remarked, “Some people take longer ones.”


Another Flight Attendant on a Power Trip

Filed under:Jerks,Mothering — posted by Anwyn @ 6:08 am

If any flight attendant ever supposes she has the right to do anything regarding my child other than telling me what she wants him to do, I’ll get kicked off the plane for telling her to go to hell. You do not touch or tighten my child’s seatbelt–and, thankfully, no flight attendant on any of the many flights we’ve taken has ever felt it necessary to do so. They do not interact directly with the child; they go through me. The most annoying it’s ever gotten was an attendant who insisted–while he was dead asleep–that he could not be lying down during landing, even with his seatbelt on. I complied and sat him up. (Yes, I do know the meaning of the word “comply” and have even suited action to the word on occasion.)

This mother wasn’t so lucky. The flight attendant seems to have been, though–because if I were the mother she would have been bawled out the first time she touched him. Seems she got to extend her power trip through several more incidents.

Conversation of the Day

Filed under:It's My Life,Mothering — posted by Anwyn on June 20, 2008 @ 10:22 pm

Flip. Flop. “Stop wiggling.” Wiggle. Waggle.

This is the sound of a little boy who has traveled all day, whose body thinks it is 9 p.m. while the clock says midnight, who took a nap on the plane so he needs an even later bedtime than usual.

One a.m. Ten p.m. on his internal traveling clock. Just about the time he would be going to sleep at home–“I’m hungry!!!!!” A wail. “I need food!!!”

Mom gives in. They troop downstairs to Grandma’s kitchen. Together they eat whatever happens to be around–some tortilla chips, a pop-tart. Mom idly reads a magazine while they eat. “Is your tummy all full?”

“No, I need something else.”

“What do you want?”

“I don’t know.”

Mom flips the pages of the magazine, buying time. “Hang on, I’m thinking.”

“Me too. But I’m using my brain.”


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image: detail of installation by Bronwyn Lace