If I'm going to spend hours a week with them...

I just got off of a phone call with a woman from Gymboree. Emerson and I tried a sample class a few weeks ago at their Shoal Creek location, and she was following up for feedback, etc.

I felt a little bad saying it, but I told her that, though we liked the program, we'd be trying another location "to see if the group of parents is different there."  It was the most diplomatic way I could find to say, "to avoid the bizarro Stepford, ex-sorority^, monochromatically beige (and caucasian), elective c-section parents."   That's way harsh Tai, I know. Harsh and très judgy, but it is the truth i perceived.

The day we went, there were 2 families of color--out of like 12--and nobody seemed to interact with them. (They also turned out to be the most interesting people I met there, so your loss, seeming lamers!)

I mean, we'll go to open gym or something at Shoal Creek soon--the staff was nice, and one musn't be too hasty with final judgments--but, I've certainly put them on notice.



^ though, let me clarify here, that not all sororities (or sorority girls) are equal. but, exceptions aside, there is a certain group of types and cultural norms that tend to gravitate towards greekdom. no?

Unexpected Awesome Mommy Friend Moment

A kid during music class was playing a shaker that was made from a plastic orange, and my newest friend--who is super awesome--leans over and says, "Look, he's playing the orange; how very John Cage!"

Looove it!

And then I started thinking about sitting Emerson in front of toys and determining which toy when by using the I Ching.

Or, placing him in font of a piano with no sound, to be watched while pounding the keys with nothing coming out.

Or, pose a sleeping Emerson at a piano, to rest there, silently for 4 minutes, 33 seconds, his breath and the room the only sonic offerings.

So far, I've hung out with 3 mommies with whom I'd really want to be friends even if we didn't have kids...and a few others who definitely warrant further investigation.

Excellent.

A NerdMom Fantasy

I walk in on my 3 or 4 year old parsing jellybeans or buttons by color (how very Montessori). After they're all separated, this kid pours all the dark ones into one bowl, all the lighter ones into another bowl.

"Look! A binary!"

"Yup, this is true," I cheerfully respond...of course not over-praising so as to encourage taking the idea further. (Because obviously in this fantasy world I am magically always able to draw out a sense of supportedness and curiosity in my offspring.)

Then both bowls get poured onto the work table, joyfully mixed around, and I hear a tiny voice sing-song out, "Dark is light and light is dark! Free play of signifiers dance!"

We then prance around the room together improvising a song about deconstruction.

(Aaaaand scene!)

Things I Called My Mom While Growing Up

I have a tendency towards nicknames.

I probably have 10 I semi-regularly use for the husband--we won't get into those right now, but I assure you that he hates half of them.

Growing up, I had several for my mother too. I find myself thinking about a couple quite a bit:
Dear Maternal Unit
Oh Great Vaginal One (as in, the one whose vagina I sprang from)

Obviously my mother had a great tolerance of (and even humor about) my persistent quirkiness. They were said with respect; I was never being a little bitch about it. They were just a little androidy.

I hope that when my kid starts flirting with the intersection of identity, science, and language, I will be just as awesome as my mom was.