I hadn't meant to take such a long blog vacation here after the wedding, but things have just been busy around here lately. We got our pictures tonight from the photographer....see more here.
I'll be back shortly with some fun food posts. We have still been eating in the interim.
We ordered our wedding rings on Amazon over the weekend. Mine just got here...Ashby's should arrive in the next day or so.
So, in less than two weeks, I'm getting married! This isn't an intensely personal blog--frankly, I don't normally have that much interesting to say about my personal life. But hey, sometimes things come along that are worth sharing.
Here's the scoop. The 9yo's dad and I divorced when she was 2. I've dated various guys in the intervening years, but several years ago, I had the abrupt realization that I might not meet Mr. Right til I was 50. Or perhaps never. That was when I adopted the 2yo. And that was plenty to keep me more than busy. So I wasn't really looking for Mr. Right, even.
And then, last summer, I ran into an old college acquaintance on Facebook. I knew Ashby in college because I worked on the newspaper, and he was in the Marine Reserves and called up for the Gulf War [the first one], so I interviewed him and another Marine before he left. Ashby wrote letters back to us at the Hustler [Vanderbilt student newspaper, so named in 1888] while he was gone, and I interviewed him again when he came back. That was the extent of our relationship....until Labor Day 2007.
I've run into any number of old friends on Facebook, but with Ashby, there was immediately something more there. Then, the clincher -- after several emails back and forth, he sent me a real, handwritten letter in the mail. Guys, let me tell you, this is an effective tactic.
All fall we visited back and forth between Asheville, NC, where Ashby taught at a boarding school, and here in Nashville. By Thanksgiving we were talking about getting married, and by Christmas, we realized that we actually were planning to get married, like, soon. Finally, one day we looked at each other and said, Umm, we're engaged, aren't we??
The big day is June 28.
I have a little bit of synesthesia, related to some random things in my life. I may have mentioned it here before, but 5+8=13 is a blue tennis shoe. Well, 13 of them. [Interestingly, 8+5=13 does nothing for me.] I'm guessing once long ago, I had that illustration in a math workbook. I don't know of other equations that do the same thing for me, but I'm sure they're out there.
Every once in a while, I run into something else like that. Today, I fried some squash, our first of the season. We bought it yesterday afternoon at the Brooks farm stand in Baker, FL. Tasted like it was picked yesterday morning. Delicious.
But while I was eating it -- the first bite -- I had this very distinct sensation of being in my maternal grandmother's kitchen. I could see it, smell it, hear her voice, everything.
Two weird things:
* My mom certainly made me more fried squash than my grandmother did, though both of them counted it as a summertime favorite.
* This incident also turned my thoughts to my paternal grandmother, and I had this involuntary sensation of her food marker, without really thinking about it -- congealed strawberry salad. I can't find the recipe; maybe my mom will chime in in the comments. It has frozen strawberries, cream cheese, Jello? Cool Whip? whipping cream? I have no idea. But then you pour it into little individual aluminum molds. Awesome.
I think of myself as a fairly indulgent parent. I let my kids watch more kinds of shows on TV than most of their friends' parents do. They certainly don't lack for clothes or toys. We eat a lot of cookies around here. But from time to time, an event will make me realize I can be pretty tough.
This household runs on the premise that if you can do something, then you should be doing it yourself, and not asking someone else to do it for you. This is harder for me than it is for anyone else, because in almost any case you could think of, I personally could do it faster than [name a child] could.
Recently, I realized the 2yo could put on and take off one of his pairs of shoes. The first time he did it, he was so excited! Big cheers all around.
So this morning, that was the pair of shoes handy. I gave them to him and said, "Sit down and put these on, please."
"No."
"2yo, I need you to put your shoes on now. We're almost ready to go."
"NO! You do it."
Can I just say, there is no way to get my back up faster than to sass me. I am the queen of sass. No one is allowed to sass me!
"I am not putting your shoes on. You can do it. Remember how you did it the other day? Now we've got to go. Come on."
"I caaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnn'tttttttttttttttt."
Oh Lord. That child was on my last nerve. This is the point where I yelled at him. I am a yeller and I can own that. I do not hold grudges, but you don't want to get on that last nerve.
I can at least place this neurosis, my problem with "I can't." Two things:
So, I left the room. I left the 2yo sitting there on the bed with his shoes, hollering about how he just couldn't do it. About 2 minutes later, silence.
Then: "Mama! I did it!"
So the other day, I got into an, umm, discussion with the soon-to-be hubby over educational research. Poor guy, he didn't live through last year's school uniform debate around here [actually I'm sure he's grateful], so he had NO idea what he was getting himself into.
We were talking about Dr. Leonard Sax, who's well known for advocating single-sex education, and for his concern over underachievement by boys. We'll just lay out my biases on the front end:
Now, after the fact, I'm able to grant some of the soon-to-be's points, namely that, in general, boys and girls may learn differently, or in general, they may be attracted to different types of activities, and that can affect their schoolwork as well.
Part of what makes me so argumentative on these points is that I was not a typical girl in many ways. I used to break my sister's Barbies -- had no use for them myself. I always loved math and science in school. I was [female stereotypically] quiet and a good student, but I didn't hesitate to argue if I thought another student, or even a teacher, was wrong. At various points, I've tried hard, but I've never been all that worried about clothes.
But here's where it all goes off the rails. I could easily envision choosing a single-sex environment for both of my kids. I don't know that I ever will, but I can envision a situation where I might. And even better, both my kids meet your stereotype of their gender. The 2yo is boisterous, full of fun, and sometimes aggressive. He can't sit still and he likes to be in charge. You might say that describes any 2yo, but when the 8yo was that age, the volume of everything she did was different. She was most definitely 2, but in a very different way than her brother. Even today, she loves the color pink. Dance. Dolls. Makeup and dress-up. She's a girly-girl.
Now, I'll say on the back end here, I also haven't read Sax's books. I'm probably right in guessing though, that what he says is more nuanced than the public perception of his work. But here's my real problem--leaving him aside. I disagree with viewing children by group when it comes to education. You can't convince me that all 7yos need the same thing, nor all girls, all boys or even all below-average readers in the 5th grade in your neighborhood. Public education -- all education to a large degree -- is about giving all kids exposure to the same set of facts. The idea that we all need to learn to read, do some math, understand a bit about the world around us. But I reject the idea that there's one way to teach all that stuff....not even four right ways.
It took me a long time to get to the point where I knew that I learn best by reading and most especially by writing. I became really good at taking notes, because I couldn't remember anything someone told me. But once I translated it onto paper, or typed it into the computer -- boom, had it down cold. For the moment, it appears to me that my daughter learns really well by hearing and speaking, but it may be that her reading and writing skills are still developing and that will change. Point being, we're all different. School is a warehouse. There are reasons for that, some good. But we don't all fit in that round hole. I want schools that can handle that.
I've mentioned around here many times that I adopted the 2yo. He was born in Guatemala and came home at 7 months. He's now almost three and is just such a joy to me, his sister and our whole family.
Until I had some close friends who adopted children shortly before I adopted the 2yo, I never spent much time thinking about such matters. When I began to go through the adoption proceedings myself, I spent practically all my time thinking about adoption, and how it builds a family, and how you view your family, and how others will view your family.
Today I was filling out a form related to my wedding in June. It asked for my "natural mother" and "natural father." Umm, perscuse me? I'll just say this set me off. I see questions like this now through my son's eyes -- how would he regard such a question?
I rarely write or talk about the 2yo's adoption. Frankly, I don't view it as most other people's business. But I'm going to take a moment here to answer all the rude questions I've been asked. In many cases, you may have asked them of someone yourself, in all ignorance. I'm sure I have asked similar ones myself in the past, not thinking of how they'd be received on the other side.
OK, I'm off my soapbox. Please continue with your regular programming.
On my way home from Austin and SXSW Interactive today. I love, love, love this conference -- you think so much here -- but on the other hand, it's horrible because you lose a whole weekend for it. I feel like it should be Friday right now and it's only Tuesday.
On the bright side, I'll get to see the kids -- though I have much enjoyed the extra sleep I've gotten the last four nights -- and my fiancé is in town. I don't talk about him much around here for two reasons: 1. He doesn't live here yet. It's been a MONTH since I've seen him. Ridiculous. and 2. I can't decide what to call him here. So I don't.
I rarely post pictures of my kids. I work online almost all day long, and I believe practically every story I read about child predators online. I'm just paranoid like that. But I felt compelled to share this with you all out there on the innertubes.
I had to work at home the other day while I waited on various repair and delivery people. I was really proud of how well the 2yo entertained himself all day. He only watched part of one movie. The rest of the day, he just had fun playing and pretty much let me get my work done. I had many fewer interruptions than I do in a typical day in the office. [Oh, hello, coworkers. No, no, I'm not talking about you interrupting me. It's that other person.]
At the end of the day, I discovered he felt it necessary to make up for all the recent times he has refused to let me put lotion on his legs. He pushed his sweatpants up to do that. Maybe he will learn to dress himself after all.
Probably not, though.
