Open Letter to the Man in a Speedo Doing Yoga in the Sauna at the Gym

Dear Man in a Speedo Doing Yoga at the Gym,

I'm not sure what you were thinking. Let's break it down:

1. There is a HUGE sign on the sauna door that says "This space is for relaxation, not exercise."

2. You are older, quite flabby, and wearing only a Speedo that might have fit you properly thirty pounds ago.

3. The moves you were doing were giving you a wedgie (forward folds), or exposing way too much of your package (backbends).

4. The twists, while relaxing I am sure, threw your sweat all over everyone sitting within three feet of your little space in the front. Where we could not avoid looking at you.

Now, I'm not sure if you were actually just doing your thing or if you were trying to impress people with your flexibility, but I for one was not impressed. I was completely creeped out.

Please do it in the steam room next time. At least there no one can see anything.

Sincerely (and with a shudder),
Virginia

Spring is here. Seriously here.

I shot this video about a month ago. You really need to watch it in HD to see how amazing it was:

The sky was full of Sandhill Cranes for a day and a half. I wish you could hear and see them better, it was amazing. Normally you see a few in the sky, but on this day, the sky was seething. They were headed northwest, off toward the panhandle, so I began to hope that the thaw was on once and for all.

Since all those cranes headed northwest that day, we've had no frost, even though we've had to wear sweaters a few days. I didn't plant anything until a bit after I saw these birds in the sky, but I have not had to run outside with the sheets or fret about tender new shoots. Spring is here, and it is grand.

I'm nosy.

Just an FYI. I love that one can figure out just about anything with the help of Google and an Internet connection. Honestly, how on earth did nosy nellies like me get by in previous decades?

I also love that the very same resources can teach me the meaning of slang, help learn obscure movie and music references, and generally keep me from coming off as unhip most of the time. Even though I totally am.

Internet, I raise my Guinness to you today, just because you are awesome.

No, I'm hip because I know people with style.

I may not look stylish 95% of the time, but I do know people who are incredibly fashionable. I do know when things are stylish and should have a Fashion Police badge, I just can't seem to get it together. An excellent example of "Do as I say not as I do."

My sister-in-law Meredith looks good all the time, and she is also crafty and funny. Best part, she writes The Lovely Owl, and shares her good taste and good humor with everyone.

Get yourself there quick, she is doing a fun give away, but you have to read this post before FRIDAY (that's tomorrow, so scoot!).

Am I not hip since I still want a Kindle? Oh well.

So the iPad has been unveiled. There are commercials and everything. It's pretty cool, but I still think I really want a Kindle.

I suppose that the sexy touchscreen would be fun, and having what is essentially a little laptop would be awesome. The color screen is indeed pretty. But no. I really REALLY want the Kindle.

I have been reading a lot lately. Ok, "a lot" for me given the babes to constantly cuddle. I've also started cleaning out my bookcases, and have discovered that I really don't need to hang on to so many of the paperbacks I have enjoyed over time. Sure, I might read something again someday, but I'm not referencing things, generally not passing them along to others, and not finding better storage. I tend to read, shelf, and eventually donate a LOT of paper.

The concept of digital books, therefore, fits right on into my world beautifully. I love the idea of toting around a smallish device and being able to read books, blogs, papers, whatever. Oh, and I love the samples, the mobile downloads, and the storage. I love that all these books sync with your iPod/iPhone and that you can get classics for free. Love all these things, which are essentially equal on all these devices.

The Kindle has me won, though, and here are the reasons why:

1. I love that screen. When I played with my sister-in-law's Kindle, I was amazed with how easy it was to read that non-lit screen. Sunshine? Sure! Pictures? Great in black and white. It is really cool, really easy on the eyes, and much mote like reading a book than a computer screen. I have not seen the iPad in person, but reading on the iPod touch is a little hard. Oh, and forget about it in the sunshine.

2. Eventually, I am sure I will get an iPhone. My future iPhone will do just about everything the iPad will do, and I won't want to tote around two similar devices. Or pay for monthly service for both, which brings me to...

3. The Kindle's upfront price includes the mobile access to downloads and updates in 3G. I love this. I think spending the $250- $500 is worth it, just to have both the hardware and the connection all at once. Not adding another monthly bill to my life = super-big plus.

Don't get me wrong. I'm an Apple lady. I am writing this on the iPod we got for our two-year-old. I love this thing, which makes me believe that the iPad will be awesome for those who want a "laptop light" to tote around. But I have an iBook. I want a reading machine so I can have fewer silverfish in my life, and read the rest of the three very cool books I have thusfar previewed.

I love that reading is back on my life, and can't wait to get cracking. Now, I just need that Kindle...


Sent from Henry's iPod

Small victory

That dude who walks across my yard every day around 4:30pm, remember him? He took the sidewalk today. I'd like to think it's because I walked outside and fully busted him last week (I just looked puzzled and said, "Um, hello?"), but it's probably because it's raining. No one wants to walk across wet grass/leaves. I have not been stoked about this very cold, very heavy rain all day today, but right now I love it.

Food issues.

I have been reading again, which is awesome. My current book is Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life. I've also recently read Food Rules: An Eater's Manual. Between the two, I'm settling in on a new way of looking at food, and hoping it will help bring more love to our table and a little less bulk to my behind.

I think I learned many of the lessons in those pages long ago, but have managed to put many of them aside. Eating "cheap" and "convenient" has, over time, warped my tastebuds and my perceptions of how one should enjoy food, and I am really looking forward to getting back to basics, back to local, back to a more sustainable food life. Lest you think I grew up eating only local and natural, let me clarify: this food business racket had me from the beginning. Those packaged solutions to dilemmas have been around for a long time, and I am definitely in the crowd of those who have been taken (even though I have tried to resist, at least from time to time, on certain points anyway).

Getting back to basics is something I had been working on while I was nursing Toby, since I could eat no soy, and the soy industry has managed to get itself a little piece of about 80% of the processed foods, both organic and conventional. Rather than truly finding a peaceful, process-free zone, however, I craved what I could not have and found the few processed items I could eat, and ate them up like crazy.

This spring it's time for rebirth. We're planting a garden, a really awesome garden, that will hopefully give us many of our veggies. We are making a plan to shop the farmer's markets, and plan food around ingredients rather than buy the ingredients around our meal plans. We will eat local as much as we can, and we will eat in season. We may have to deviate to accommodate Henry's love of fruit, but we will do it as rarely as we can manage. We will eat food, not "edible food-like products," and will make things from scratch.

It will be work, but it will be work that brings life to the house. I can think of nothing better than food prepared with love, so making it a priority will be our new priority.

I'm also giving up coupons. Of course, I will be happy to use them if we happen to find one for something we already use, but there will be none of this shopping-around-the-coupons fr our house anymore. The food industry, together with chemical companies, are a manipulative bunch. The lure of saving a dollar on something I would never otherwise buy has gotten me in the past, and I have a cabinet of cleaners and a pantry with some odd processed food items to prove it. Perhaps one of the best lessons embedded in Animal, Vegetable, Miracle is that "cheap food" from industrial sources is a myth. We are paying far more, both in real dollars and in costs to health and community, supporting that low price tag in the store.

I sound a little bit "holier-than-thou" right? OK, more than a little. I know. I'll get back to you after I have tried to convince my 3 year old that fish sticks aren't the best dinner...

Open letter to They Might Be Giants

Dear TMBG,

Your music for kids is great. Henry can't get enough of Here Comes Science right now, and it's pretty amusing to hear him talking about Hydrogen, Helium, Carbon, Nitrogen... you know, all those things on the surface of the sun.

Chances are I would be pulling my hair out in clumps if he were demanding Wee Sing albums on repeat, but your stuff is fun for me too.

I would appreciate a few more CDs, asap.

Even though all three you've made so far are great, we have nearly worn them out listening to them every.single.time. we get into the car. On repeat. Repeat. REPEAT!

No matter how cute and clever and catchy a song may be, it gets old after the 500th time you've played it. In a week.

So please, PLEASE, something new. Consider it a personal favor, from one who loved you way back when you were all about Triangle Man.

Thanks, Virginia

Baking = precision. Or not.

Today is Henry's third birthday, which is awesome. He's adorable, and enjoying everything so far, which included cheesy toast and apples in the living room for breakfast, presents, and a taste of the cupcakes I made for his class.

This taste was a requirement, because I was frankly considering bailing on them altogether and buying something at Publix on the way to school. The baking did not really go my way last night.

The difference between baking and cooking is precision. I used to be really into baking mainly because I loved this attention to detail, nit-picky measurements, clean execution... It was like photography, or cleaning the bathroom. The details matter, and when you do it right, everything looks amazing. There is a sense of accomplishment that is pretty awesome when it all works out, and you get used to scrapping it if it doesn't work out, which can be disappointing, but helps build that high for the good times.

Now I am into cooking, with all of the tweaking and sloppiness that comes along with putting together a flavorful soup or a great roast chicken. Or both, from the same bird. Scrapping together bits of this and that has become fun, and trying to make something out of whatever is lying around the pantry is its own fun challenge. I like recipes, but I also take them with a grain of salt, give or take. I like having people cook at my house, and then stealing the idea of a dish, and making it my own thing. I like that, generally, a minute here or there doesn't make or break dinner, and food is forgiving.

I made these cupcakes from Martha Stewart for Henry today, thinking that they would be a healthier alternative to chocolate buttercream madness. We'll see what the verdict is from the 3 year olds, but I have my doubts. They are glorified muffins. They would be delicious breakfast treats without the icing, which is beyond sweet. Never test a recipe the night before... remember this, self.

So I'm not the Martha Stewart of baking anymore. I'm not the Martha Stewart of anything, although I did make mustaches for the kids and teachers from felt, dowels, and hot glue, and that was something.

I've decided I am more Amy Sedaris. I like entertaining, but not so much precision or fanciness. I like fanciness, but not in an actually-fancy way. Look, just read about it. Her book is like my bible, I use it all. the. time. Seriously. I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence.

So Happy Birthday Henry! Take 2 will be Sunday afternoon, I will make better cupcakes, I promise.

Open Letter to Telephones

Dear telephones,

I hate you.

Sincerely,
Virginia

Where have you been?

I know that one of my resolutions for the "real" New Year was to be better about posting, and I am trying. However, I have to admit that I have been up to other things. Like making the stark (and ugly) wall behind the cabinets in the dining room into a magnetic chalkboard to keep the kids occupied (and near, but out of, the kitchen). Pictures and discussion of this project to come someday soon...

What has been really cool since I got back from my retreat is that I have felt inspired again. I've been reading (finished a whole book and started another, shock-and-surprise!), organizing, and even doing projects. We've rearranged the rooms in the house, creating a playroom, an adult room, a craft space, and a nursery for Toby. I did the chalkboard project from start to finish. I've got several projects in the works, and I am actually finding the time to do them, and to *enjoy* them.

For today, I am taking inventory of these projects that are in the pipeline, the crafty ones I have found online anyway, and thought I would share my these aspirations (and also give myself a great list to reference when I am feeling lost in the shuffle).

Making Felt Play Food. Thanks to Amy S. for passing this great reference along, and making some prototypes to get me inspired! (I found your lost strawberry, by the way. Henry was trying to eat it this morning.)

Learning to Quilt. This picnic blanket looks like an excellent beginner project. And now I hang out with a very clever mama who knows how to properly quilt, so I will be hitting her up for lessons. (Surprise, Meaghan! I forgot to mention that, huh?)

Make this play mail bag. It's awesome.

Make something fun for Toby. This soft counting book is fantastic, and I think Henry might even get into helping Toby learn numbers.

Make my own grocery/gift/tote bags. Very helpful tutorials and patterns can be found here and here. I'm pretty excited, both because these bags will be fairly easy and quick projects I can manage as I get better at sewing AND because they will be very, very cool.

Make something cute for me. I like this little pin jar, and I am going to make it for myself. If it works out, all the seamstresses I know may be getting one as a gift this year. Goodness knows we have plenty of baby food jars around this place!

I have a couple of very *very* cool projects that I am *super* excited about, but I don't want to post about them precisely because they are going to be gifts. That is, they will be gifts if I can get it together before December...

I'm not trying to be judgmental, but...

There are three people that have me completely weirded out. I kind of desperately want to stop them and say, "What the heck?!!" but in two of the three cases, that will definitely never happen, and it's unlikely in the third. So here's my beef:

Case #1: The walking lady

Since I moved to Gainesville almost seven years ago, I constantly see this woman walking around all over town. She is short and slight, always well-dressed in long sleeves, pants, boots, a hat, sunglasses, and a backpack. She is most certainly not homeless. I usually see her on the west side of town, walking around between larger shopping areas. If you are familiar with Gainesville, however, you'll know that walking around the west side of town is unheard of because things are miles and miles apart.

At first I kind of assumed that she had cancer, and was doing a lot of healthy exercising. I have no idea if she DOES have hair, but you can't see it under her hat. She's always kind of smiling, and has a spring in her step, so I always figured she was doing something healthy and positive for herself. Then I started to think that she was anorexic, because she is very, very thin. And when I say I see her walking all the time, I mean all the time. I'd see her at 8am, I'd see her at noon, then run into her again at 5. These sightings are not rare; I'd say I saw her every day when I lived and/or worked out that way, and now see her about every third time I get over there for an errand.

I'm completely nosy, and have no reason to make any of the assumptions about her that I do, but there it is.

Case #2: The walking man

There is a guy who I am a little worried about. Whenever it is above 70 degrees out, I see him walking my neighborhood. He's all dressed in a sweatsuit, hood up, and seems to even be wearing some kind of wrap beneath the sweats (you can see it on his hands to his fingers). When I say "above 70 degrees), I mean middle of the afternoon heat in Gainesville - he's out walking all wrapped up. Again, I suspect anorexia. Or boxing. And again, I want to ask, but never will.

Case #3: Dude walking across my lawn, every damn day

I know that we do not keep our lawn tidy and neat, neat and tidy, and we don't have a fence. I know that we live on a corner lot, which means that cutting across our lawn cuts off the extra 50 feet you have to walk if you go to the corner. But dude, what the heck? You have to notice that we are sitting inside, we have a HUGE WINDOW in the front of our house. Henry and I sit there and watch you every day.

How does one tell a guy walking across your lawn that he is being a jerk? Bret doesn't think it's a big deal, but then he saw the guy do it today, and agreed that it's weird. In this case, I may have to say something, but I have no idea how that conversation will go... any thoughts for me?

My New Year

My 2010 is starting today.

I just got the time to be still and think about what things I want to change in the new year, so my resolutions start now. Or tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow.

I could make very specific goals (I do have a few of those in the back pocket), but I prefer the top two lofty ideas I came up with while I was in my little bubble this weekend.

1. Practice being present.
Yes, this is kind of cheesy, but suck it. I've been ridiculously stressed out, and freaked out, about all the things falling through the cracks, and all the scary possibilities that loom in the potential futures. Anxiety begets anxiety, and it has, quite frankly, paralyzed me in many ways. I could make my resolution getting back into yoga, because the practice of presence was precisely what had me hooked on it years ago, but it's not just yoga. My goal is, in fact, to bring myself into the moment and enjoy the process, rather than just focusing on an end and worrying about getting there.

2. Patience.
I need more of it, pretty much all the time. When Henry was a tiny baby, I remember being more patient than I ever imagined I could be. (I have no idea if I was delusional, or even if I am just remembering it wrong. The chances of either being true are excellent.) I have not found that same well of patience since Toby's birth, and have found myself looking back over a day or a week, wishing I had been more patient and not acted as I did. I'm not yet sure how to remind myself to find patience in the moment, and I'm not getting a tattoo (I love Christine's though).

I figure that by actively incorporating presence and patience into my life, I will also be more attentive and kind, and really enjoy the pure love of my family. I'm also hoping to focus more attention on my life, and do some of the little things for myself and my family that I have been wanting to do for ages. (See back pocket list for details.) It will mean turning off the TV and computer more, buying less, creating more things from scratch, and learning how to incorporate the kids into activities like cooking, cleaning, and gardening. All of this will be good for all of us.

So, Happy New Year to me! I'll let you know how it's going.

And, break!

It is probably painfully obvious from my posts alone, and I assure you that if you had a face to face conversation with me there would be no doubt: I am exhausted.

I have been very up front about the fact that I have found two kids beyond hard to manage, and that I don't get nearly enough sleep to function as a human being. Long-term sleep deprivation screws with you in ways you can't imagine, and I fear I may never get my brain back.

Let me break it down for you: I'm generally a very smart person, and I have my poop in a group. Not perfection, but together. These days, here is the scenario: I walk into the grocery store to buy three things (aluminum foil, kale, and red lentils). We desperately need the aluminum foil and I'm thinking of making soup for dinner. While in the store, I get a cookie for Henry, because that is what we do at the grocery store. I pick up two of the items on the list (the lentils and the kale), but remember that cookie, oops. Apparently the cookie is a third thing in my new world. Not a chance I will think of that real third thing (remember that aluminum foil?) until I am on the way home, thinking about how smart I was to go ahead and go to the store before lunch so that while the kids nap I can bake those sweet potatoes after all since I have... oh wait, the aluminum foil.

This happens thirty times a day. No joke.

So this weekend, I am escaping from life. Call it a mental health leave, or whatever you want. Three nights in a hotel with a big, beautiful bed. No kids. No conversation. No responsibilities. No thinking. No reasoning. N.o.t.h.i.n.g. (Possibly some simple knitting math, but that is IT.)

I used to get a chance to do nothing every now and again. It wasn't for three days in a chunk, it was for a couple of hours here or there when Bret was working and I was home alone. Zone out. Knit. Be still. Read. Think about life or make lists or whatever, just time to myself for a little while. I can't even recall the last time I got to do this - I mean really DO NOTHING - and I am so excited about it.

I love my kids. I love my husband. I love my house.

And I will love it so much more freely when I get back Tuesday.

I'm just a college town kind of person.

I used to think of myself as a city person. A smaller city person, but definitely a city person.

I loved living in DC in college. I never, ever liked New York - it was always too big - even when I was young and spry and down for a party. I liked DC. Now I realize that it wasn't that it was the city, but rather that Georgetown was functionally a college town from which I could access a small city.

I have never been remotely a country person. I love growing food, but I love it in a garden. A farm, far from everything, would just be too much for me to handle. I also don't like livestock much, so the equation would be: me + farm = no way.

Recently I was thinking that I was, shudder, a suburban mom. I mean, I drive my kids around in a minivan. On a recent shopping trip I was gleeful when I realized that we could go to one strip mall, get out of the car one time, and hit three errands in the stroller! Grocery store for kale and garlic, check. Print shop, check. Liquor store, check. (Yes, I take my kids to the liquor store. Would you rather I leave them in the car? We needed whiskey.)

I had almost been sold on the strip mall, and surrendered to the dreaded suburbs, but then I realized: If we just had a few more of the traditional stores downtown, I could stick the kids in the stroller and do the same shopping walking from my house. Which would mean not having to get into the car. Which would be far better than even the strip mall in the suburbs!

I was beside myself with joy - not a suburban mom after all! Sure one strip mall trip worked out, but I was not sold. (And in my defense, it was raining that day. So the walking would have been a bit miserable.)

I like living in Gainesville because we have a downtown. I love living downtown. OK, so not everything is available, and since this is Florida we can't get rid of our cars just yet (blech for sprawl!) however, it is a college town. Biking and walking are normal here, and even if you do have to get in the car sometimes, nothing is really more than 15 minutes away. We get lectures. And shows. And experts in horticulture who are interested in teaching you things. And the University gives the town a center that really can't shift too terribly far, and has to be accessible to bikes and people on foot.

Yay for the college town. It's for me.

Cliford should be on Hoarders!

I have not seen many episodes of Clifford: The Big Red Dog. I am thankful for this, as given the few episodes I have seen, I have found the following things really grate on my last nerve:

1. The music. It is not cute or clever, just repetitive and clangy.

2. The name "Emily Elizabeth." Either name is adorable for a little girl. Neither is appropriate for a double-name because there are just too many syllables here.

3. The whole concept of a "big red dog" annoys me. The thought of a mutant dog, that is both technicolor and as big as a house is just plain creepy.

Now, in order to form these opinions, I did have to watch a few episodes with Henry, who began requesting Clifford once he got a DVD for Christmas. (I should note that said DVD is not living at our house, or even in our county, but does remain in our state, which I find unfortunate.)

Why this visceral reaction?

Clifford is a Hoarder.

He could be featured on A&E. He'd probably qualify for some special show since he has the mutant issues in addition to the compulsive hoarding.

It might be that I have been watching too much Hoarders, and have gotten a bit compulsive about analyzing my own relationship to junk as a result, but I was a little bit taken aback to have a kids' show openly enabling a hoarder.

Let me break it down for you: Clifford is cleaning out his dog house, and has a huge pile of stinky and dirty stuff outside his dog house. (Given Clifford's mutant stature, the pile looks exactly like the mounds of crap that are removed from houses on Hoarders). Every item that gets pulled from the pie brings back memories, and we get to relive several stories through the magic of the television flashback. All that is missing is the expert/therapist introducing the memory with a comment about how "typically objects carry emotional weight for hoarders, and throwing them out makes them fear losing the memory or somehow betraying it." Which is why Clifford decides he can throw nothing away. Emily Elizabeth discovers his stash, and laughs!

Yeah, how many mummified cats do you think are in his pile?

I'm sorry Clifford, I just can't handle it.

Well, it had to happen sometime.

Toby got teeth recently, which are adorable. They are also incredibly sharp. Boyfriend likes to bite, and bite hard, on everything he can get near his head. Until today, that everything included my boob.

As I have noted before, I have a complex relationship with breastfeeding. I think I have been meaning to write something else since I was able to very successfully nurse Toby (with some supplementation, but at one point I was winning and the ratio was like 70/30 me), but as I have also noted before, breastfeeding might as well be a full time job in itself, so I just plain didn't get around to taking things back and clarifying and whatnot. Summary: breastfeeding is amazing. I feel like both Henry and I missed out a bit, even though he is a healthy little lad and I love him very much.

So Toby and the biting. I had been advised that if he bit, don't (repeat three times) pull him away because he will still be biting, and it will hurt. Um, this would be the biggest understatement ever - ouch! Mamas said discourage babe from biting by squishing him into your boob. Which works OK, except I seemed to forget that 8 of 10 times in the moment (soooo ouch!). The squishing was considered beyond hilarious by little man, who would wait like a snake in the grass to strike again. Charming. (Actually, it kind of was. He is incredibly adorable when his laughs, it's addictive like crack.)

This was the straw.

I have to admit that the timing works out for me. I've been kind of ready to go on a soy and dairy bender for a few weeks. It makes sense, Toby is seven months old. When I quit smoking (on more than one occasion, I am loathe to admit) I did great until about month six, seven, eight... It took years to bust through that wall and really and truly quit. If there was tobacco in like 80% of the things at the grocery store, I have a feeling I would not be on the wagon still. Dairy is in 80% of what is yummy, and soy is in 80% of everything, which limits you more than a bit. I have been practically bathing in cheese since earlier today (note that I don't even particularly like cheese normally). You see, I finally made the decision that it was time to wean.

Of course, that sounds so awful: I made the decision to wean. Really, it's been steadily happening for a while now. Toby has been pretty much comfort-nursing for a few months, because my supply was just not able to get up high enough to keep up with his monster-baby heft, and with schedules and craziness, and him being HUNGRY, he just has been getting more of his nutrition in nasty pre-digested powder form. The addition of solids has been slow; his tummy is still having a rough time, so sweet potatoes and squash seem to be the only things both he and his tummy agree are awesome so far. What stunk was that even though he was hardly nursing, if I screwed up just a little bit, he was a mess. Poor baby, we couldn't even tell if it really was the pears making him a nut, or mama accidentally ate hidden butter or soy lecithin. It's time to call it.

In the balance, we both got a great deal. We both to cuddle and share something special, and no soy, dairy, or tomatoes (and limited caffeine and peanuts) was completely worth it for those seven months. Breastfeeding is amazing, and I defy you to find anything sweeter than a nursing baby. (Seriously. Try. Sweetest thing in the world. For reals.) I will really and truly miss it. I might not have said this eight months ago, but that's precisely why I got such a good deal.

Now, Toby, you may bite away!

Public Service Announcement

It comes up multiple times, every time we leave the house, so I feel the word needs to be spread: No one puts fake glasses on a baby.

In case anyone missed the point I am making here, let me elaborate: Yes, Toby needs his glasses to see. They are indeed corrective lenses. I'm not just trying to make him look cute. They are not sunglasses. Yes, he needs them to see. No, he's not going to outgrow the glasses in a few years. Yes, his glasses stay on his head with that strap. Sure, he tries to take them off sometimes, he's a baby. Yes, we know he needs to wear glasses. Yes, his doctors have ways of determining what power he needs. Sure, that's amazing. Yes, they do in fact make glasses for babies. Yes, THEY ARE REAL GLASSES.

Aside: If you are a parent who has considered putting fake glasses on your baby because it's cute, don't do it. It's jerky, to your baby and to the babies who need glasses. Don't do it. Period.

Apparently being of childbearing age opens you up to the most invasive and inappropriate comments from complete strangers. It gets progressively worse as
a) said strangers know you are thinking of having children,
b) you are pregnant (obviously or not, once someone knows this, your body is merely fodder for conversation), or
c) you have a baby.

I've heard about the insensitive and offensive comments of strangers to the trying to conceive and/or adopt from several friends, all of whom handle it well, but get annoyed deep down. I never personally had anyone jump on in and grab my baby belly, but I got plenty of comments about how huge I was and countless unsolicited horror-birth stories. That was great. Even while I was in labor, I was getting them from the nurses. Bret nearly had a fit, I had just gotten used to it. Having a baby just opens the floodgates.

If you have an apparently healthy baby, you get questions from complete strangers that are extremely personal (inevitably followed by what is often ridiculous advice) about how much and what you are feeding the baby, how much sleep you are getting, whether you had trouble conceiving, what your sleeping arrangements are... on and on. Even folks who would vote to ban all mention of a va-jay-jay in schools, or wax poetic about how inappropriate the "gay agenda" is because it is focused on sexual orientation have no problem getting all up in your very personal private-part business. Just by way of example, I had a grocery clerk ask me whether I had a vaginal birth straight out of the blue one day when I came through her line with Henry. Too shocked not to respond with what was essentialy a reflex "Yes," she then hit me with "did you have an episiotomy or tear?" WHAAAT?!?!

Things are a little tougher, or so I have found, if you have a baby that has an obvious issue. Toby wears glasses (did I mention that? He needs them to see.) We can't leave the house without having at least one person, and usually at about five people, make comments about his glasses. This doesn't count the many smiles and laughs we get, or even the straight up laughing and pointing. It's honestly exhausting, frustrating, maddening, but only occasionally sweet.

So here is a little primer on how we'd like to be approached, by strangers. I can't speak for anyone else, but I suspect that these guidelines might apply to kids with other medical issues or other differences as well.

1. Smiling at a sweet baby is fine. Commenting on his general cuteness, also fine. This is totally normal behavior around a baby, and yeah, he's pretty darn cute.

2. Even if you assume that they are sunglasses, you should pause before pointing and talking about his hater-blockers, his cool shades, or how he is ready for his photo op. Sunglasses on a baby could very well be there for a medical reason, but even if it's just for shade, unless you're sure of this you should check yourself. If your assumption is wrong, you could be incredibly insulting, and might get corrected by a mama who will make you feel like poo (or at least try to make you feel crappy - I start with "no, they're real glasses. He was born blind, so we're really lucky he is able to see now..." I am very passive aggressive, you had better watch out for me.) This is not a mistake you want to make.

3. Pointing is never, ever, ever, ever polite. If you want to show your friend, your spouse, your child, the checkout clerk, etc., the kid in glasses, stop and think about how much you are objectifying that kid with what you are doing and don't do it. It's damn mean, and you should know better.

4. If you are going to ask about the glasses, be prepared to get the response mom feels like giving. This could just be "yes, they're real glasses." If someone doesn't want to get into the whole back story of her child's personal, medical history with you in the supermarket, it's really OK. It's her right, and her baby's right, not to have to share it with you, a stranger. If you ask follow up questions and get very very short responses, be respectful. You may be the tenth person that day to ask, and mama may be done with sharing with strangers for the day. THIS IS OK, really really.

5. Don't approach the difference as something tragic, or as a "blessing in disguise," or a "miracle." You, as a stranger, certainly don't get to make that kind of value judgment about the situation. And my feelings about it are absolutely none of your business.

6. Also, please leave people who are trying to have a baby/adopt, pregnant women, and parents with babies alone about their personal lives. Unless you know them very well, it's really none of your business. (And even then they might want you to butt out!)

Toby might not need both his glasses and his contacts pretty soon, but I might keep him in glasses so that in the event he needs them again when he is 2 we don't have such fight about it. This was advice I got from a TSA checker in San Francisco, unsolicited. The first thing out of her mouth was "My son was a baby in glasses at that age too, does everybody bug you about it?"

Open Letter to My Hair

Dear Hair on My Head,

When the heck did you get wavy, and why was I not consulted on the matter? Or at least informed in advance. Not kind.

Sincerely,
You know exactly who.

Happiness is...

...two sleeping boys, a good check up for Toby with the eye specialist, and packing for a trip to Napa for KK's wedding (to awesome Jon). A nap for me will make this afternoon epic, so I am off to make that happen!