Tuesday, August 27, 2013

The draft

Confession: 

Sometimes I go back to previous posts on my blog to criticize myself for the inane things I post.
Sometimes I go back to look at pictures of my kids (who I miss during the day, but am ready to ship to the moon at 6pm many days).
Sometimes I go back to find old recipes, or even seek out advice from my former self. 

And sometimes I go back for one of the previous said reasons and realize that I accidentally posted one of my "draft" posts like yesterday's Twumping.

If I showed you the internal workings of this blog, you would see that I have no less than 20 "draft" posts of various subject matter. While I still claim that I will post just about anything, I do make sure that anything that gets published has at least a grain of merit and maybe a thesis, but I try to make sure they are all at least slightly coherent. Believe it or not, I have a lot of drafts that are just lists, or idea fragments, or partial posts, or reminders, or quotes, or artifacts of posts that came to me in the shower or a dream, but never make enough sense to see the light of day.

I had intentions of doing a "pump talk" post in the coming days, and yesterday's post was totally my thoughts on training wheels. I updated the post with my pump's "word of the day" and instead of save, I apparently pushed "publish."

Apologies for the wobbly post. At least it wasn't my draft on groin issues. (Oh, don't you worry; that is coming...toddler style.)

Monday, August 26, 2013

Twumping

If baby North-South-East-West can have a twitter account, or that hilarious Honest Toddler (don't get me started on the brouhaha with the Honest Company and bullying her--for SHAME J. Alba!) I think so should my pump.

Everyday it chants something different to me. And I feel like telling someone, but not sure who (twitter?).

I don't really have a twitter presence; I use it more for following. So maybe I should just change the author of my account to my pump.

Why I never noticed that my pump "talks to me" the first 2 go arounds is beyond me. Maybe delirium really sets in the third time around. Or multiple personality disorder.

Last week, it kept saying "take a nap".
Then, Friday night during a rare night time pump I did (why? because I was trying out the new FREE pump my insurance got me. Huzzah! Boobs! Free! One at work and one at home. YAY!), it was chanting, "black hawk."

Today: "life alert."

Anyone else have pump talk to share?

Friday, August 23, 2013

Racial Confection

The palpable hiccups in my posting is a direct result of the 3 Ring Circus that is our life. Each child has his own ring, and let me tell you...each act is vastly different. So, being the ring leader gets pretty exhausting! And I still contend it's the older 2 who cause me to crack the proverbial ring leader whip far more than the baby...

...also, as my boys get older, I feel like exploiting their lives is best left on my personal and private Facebook account. (Internet and private. What a joke.) As they start real deal school (one of which was on LOCKDOWN this first week of school due to an area shooter at another elementary school), my promise to them is that I will keep their lives more closely guarded. So the blog will appear as though I am playing favorites with my children. Gus getting top billing. Okay, and a few pictures here and there. And then any vignettes that pop up that I feel appropriate to share.

Like when Felix had me thinking it was time to deconstruct the concept of race with him...

***

Felix: Mom, a black man gave me candy at school today.
Mom: Really? Did someone come and give all of the kids candy?

Thought process:
  1. Why is he getting candy?
  2. Why is he getting candy from a man? Did someone visit? (There are no male teachers at his school)
  3. Why is he calling said man "black" when race has never seemed to be something he's noticed?
  4. Should I start talking with him about skin color and race more explicitly? I want my children to learn about acceptance and how do I start this conversation? I wasn't prepared today! What do you tell the 3 year old crowd? (That's not a rhetorical question--anyone out there still reading have suggestions of how to talk about race with preschoolers?) Give me a good old conversation about sex and STIs. That I can handle thanks to my public health background.
Felix: No. Just me. I was the only one.
Mom: Ummm, okay. Who was it that gave you candy? What was his name?
Felix: I don't know.
Mom: You don't know? Were you by yourself and why was it just you?

Thought process:
  1. Is he lying? 
  2. Why would he be by himself?
  3. Ali, why did you just throw a double-barreled question at a 3 year old?
Felix: No. I was running errands with [a teacher].

LIGHT BULB MOMENT!

Mom: Ah! Were you in Father "John's" office?  

(I know the children sometimes run special errands with the teacher and go to the administration offices. Context: my children go to childcare at my husband's Catholic high school, and the principal is Father "John"--name changed)

Mom: What color is Fr. "John's" skin?
Felix: His face is white, but his body is all black.

So maybe I need to work on anatomy lessons before I jump into race...