Monday, December 6, 2010

Warning: Mommy Post


My oldest went to his first sleep over.  He's sleeping like a baby... at someone else's house.

All went successful, per any Mother's hope.  He was a true blue ham, as his bloodline dictates.  And you know what, I'm very pleased.

I'm also a tad, irrationally, unnerved that he didn't ask for Mommy. I know that it's a good thing. He's well adjusted and is comfortable. Obviously, the choice of where the first sleep over takes place is a big key.  He's in very good hands. 

And so it starts.  This little person you carried with you, feeling every move and hiccup.  The one who's cough kept you, not them, up all night out of unfounded concern.  He's growing up to be social, comfortable, and happy to explore different things.  Essentially, he's growing up.

You joke as a Mom about how it'll be when they are independent, about how they will eventually forget you exist except for when you are out of food.   You talk about how one day you'll be able to sleep in and go out when you want. 

But really, you watch every move.  You watch every single move and cringe when you think it may hurt. Let me rephrase that, when you think there is a slight possibility that they could possibly get hurt.  That goes with mind, body, or spirit.  And the spirit is a doozy. Thankfully, they don't know how fragile it is. 

So I cringed walking him to his sleep over. I fought my desire to say 'You can call Mommy anytime to pick you up!'  Why plant the negative. Just because I hated sleep overs until I was like 21 doesn't mean he'll have an issue with it. 

And it's a very accomplishing feeling to see your kid adapt to a new situation with ease.  At the same time, you feel a little sand slip from your fingers.

Thank goodness I'm not the type to try to hold onto it.  Sand should be held in an easy hand, being allowed to go where the wind takes it.  I fight the urge to hold onto it daily.  But I figure, isn't the goal of picking up sand in the first place, to see the beauty in how it slides out from your fingers?

I Hate Packing!



I hate packing. I seriously, utterly despise the act of putting things into suitcases.  And it has only gotten worse now that I belong to a family of 4.

There's the stuff you have to bring. Like little Jimmy is really going to cry if we forget Bear.  Need bear. Oh and Bobby has that issue with allergies so we need to bring the nebulizer.  We can't forget pretty shoes for everyone, just in case we actually go somewhere nice. 

Don't even get me started on carry-ons. It's like packing for a wilderness retreat but not really knowing if you are headed to the mountains or the beach.  Are they going to feel like coloring? Will they actually watch the inflight video or should we bring our own? Playdoh or Playno? And snacks.  They will get hungry. Must have snacks. Diapers, extra clothes for them, and extra clothes for me. Trust me, the moment you do not bring extra clothes is the moment your child starts to have motion sickness. No one, not the person sitting to your left, not you, nor your child wants to sit next to someone that smells like the inside of a stomach.

Oh and medicine.  The magic medicine. I always have space for you baby.

When it comes down to it, you can always buy what you forget. At least in the States anyway. I know this but I'm not made of money, no matter how much I attempt to meditate on it.  I never should have read The Secret. Damn you Oprah! **

Anyway, I have one bag down and good golly I have no idea how many more to go.  Let's just pretend and say I like to pack light, or pack lazy.  Take it as you will. 

**I took artistic license there. I have never read that book and my pride wouldn't let me let you think I have.



A Tale of Acceptance...?


I read an interesting article in the November 15th issue of People. It's called 'A Tale of Acceptance'.

To sum it up, it's about a boy who likes to dress up like a princess. Oh yes, the bigger the tutu the happier the boy.  And his parents ROCK.  After some discussion, they decided to let the boy do what he wants.  Not to push him.  The Mom even wrote a book called My Princess Boy in attempts to quell the backlash of him expressing himself.  It's getting around the school system, thank goodness.

You see, I'm a big believer in Sass. I think if more people had it, the world would be a better place. Sass is something that makes you be who you are with force. You say things, even if it's a no go. You dance even if you are the only one that thinks your singing is danceable (happens to me a lot).  And you wear a freakin' big ass, glittery tutu if it makes you feel good.

I'd like to think kids are not cruel. I know we all say they are but, ideally, they don't come that way. They are like rottweilers. They look a little scary and have the tendency to be little bitches.  But they only really turn if you raise/train them that way. A rottie raised in a good home is as sweet as a golden, maybe a tad bit more protective... normally.

Not shockingly, there has been quite a bit of debate about this book and the parents' position on the subject. From Current.com: Online radio blogger Lashaun Turner, the 46-year-old mother of three grown children (including two boys) in Riverside, Calif., was taken aback by Kilodavis tracing Dyson's fashion sense to age 2. "I mean it's just crazy. Your 2-year-old is picking out pink colors and wanting to wear pink dresses and so therefore you start buying him dresses? I mean a 2-year-old has not a clue as to whether they're boy, girl, fruit, vegetable or a rock."

So what would you do?  In the time of the ultra-sensitive parenting movement, do you smash his dreams of pink and ribbons to smithereens?  Or is it not smashing at all, only guidance towards social norm?

Personally, I cut my oldest off from nail polish at 3 years old. Dude, we live in Brazil. It was attracting attention at the park that was upsetting and mean from parents and kids alike. Amazing how parents are so quick to judge.  There are plenty of kids at the park with whom I'd like to loudly say, 'Wow, that kids is a douche and has small man's complex at 6!' but I hold my tongue. I feel that is the thin line that separates kids and adults.

And you know what, I was made fun of A LOT in school. I was even in our middle school slam book.  I was voted flattest girl in school.  I'd like to thank my genes. Without them, I never could have been so flat chested.  The vests I insisted on wearing really didn't help the situation.  I was so before my time. 

My mother never tried to help me be more accepted.  I like her thank her for that regularly. She was very, you are who you are and if they are your friends, they will accept you.

That's awesome. It really is. Sadly, in the 7th great, I apparently had no friends. 

At the same time, look at yourself.  We all have had our moments and we all have our things. Some of you are really into feet, you know, in a kind of scary way.  Some of you like to stand right next to the only other person in the elevator.  Many of you use food items in a very non-edible way.  We're weird people. Every single one of us. Just think about it.

And I know we try to "protect" our kids but maybe, sometimes, we raise them when they just need to be left to their own devices.

In an ideal world, home should be a shelter away from the bullshit.  Check your roof, does it have bullshit leaks? 

At the same time, the world is a tough place.  So what would you do?  Would you guide your son towards overalls and boots?  Would you limit sparkles to the house?  Would you bedazzle his basketball shorts if that's what made him happy?  What are your thoughts on the discussion?

And a secondary question: What makes you weird? Oh come on, I know you have something!

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Rio de Janeiro Under Water


And now the rains have come.  It's raining it's pouring, the old man is snoring as Largo do Machado, Pinheiro Machado, and Rua das Laranjeiras flood. Damn old man, get up and watch the rain.

Rio has been Baby Jesus-ed


My Zone is covered in baby Jesus-es.  At first I thought wow, Rio de Janeiro has a lot of nativity sets! Good for them for being so festive.  But really, I mean really, do they need to put them all out? 

I don't quite know what's going on and neither do my Carioca contacts... aka my husband because I'm too lazy to ask anyone else or read today.  Then again, I have you cyber world friends, don't I?

So I hear it's some sort of mission. The mission to offend someone. Oh wait, Brazilians aren't petty like that and don't get pissed off over someone else believing in something. Now there is a concept to consider during this holiday season.

Anyway, there are Nativity scenes all over Zona Sul, quite possibly the city. I wouldn't know because I've only been hanging in my zone lately. 

They come in all shapes in sizes. We're talking metal, statues, colored, modern, "modern", and so on and so forth. 

Does anyone know how or why this has come about?  Is it a competition? Is it a faith thing?  Is it like the painted cow statue phenomenon? 

Who's got the story?
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