pooping for Disney
The backstory: I have been trying to potty train India for five months now. She has done really well getting the #1 part down. She hasn't had an accident in months and does really well at home and at school. The #2 though . . . not so much. I know that she has control over it, though. She doesn't really have accidents, she just waits until naptime every day when I put her in a diaper. (She is very regular). Every day for weeks now, we go through this routine where I put her in a diaper, leave . . .
emotional about STUFF
I'm not one to get emotional over stuff. I used to be more sentimental. I used to be a "keeper". I would keep any cards or notes I received. I even had a huge file cabinet full of notes passed in class in junior high (you know, the kind you specially folded with the pull-tab?) until my mother made me throw them out. But then I met Mark and his purging ways rubbed off on me. I try not to get too wrapped up with "things" in any way. If you give me a beautiful note, I will cherish it for a day, . . .
baby origami
The secret to a happy baby: . . .
tableau gone wrong
The other day, Jafta and India were playing with Karis on the bed. They were cuddling and laughing and singing to her. It was such a cute little scene that I ran to get the camera to capture it. And here's the footage I got:Mmmmm. So sweet. . . .
millk tether
I've been feeling a little run-down lately. My family might even say I've been acting a little cranky. Okay, I HAVE. I'm so tired. I've been trying to figure out why, and I think I got a little clarity last night, when Mark attempted to give Karis a bottle. Karis was not having it. She was screaming and crying and arching her back, and as this was going on I made the connection that this was her first bottle in about six weeks. Which means, for the past six weeks, I have not been away from Karis . . .
the reframe
In family systems theory, there is a concept that I really like called reframing. Basically, it means to take a situation and encourage someone to "see it in another frame", usually adding a more positive context to the scenario. Because I enjoy using my kids as psychological experiments putting my psych training to work as a parent, I tend to do a lot of reframing with my kids. If you are a parent, you are probably already doing it, and just didn't know there was a fancy technical name for . . .
when white people talk about race
Recently, I was a part of a discussion on facebook about race. (You gotta love social networking for juxtaposing people from all walks of life into 140-character-or-less philosophical arguments). This particular discussion took a turn that I often see happen when white people jump into conversations about race. A few folks implied that racism was over. References to society's Token Assimilated Black Guys were made (Colin Powell, Tiger Woods, etc). Someone suggested that seeing more interracial . . .
dreams can come true
Yesterday was a day of fulfilled dreams.First of all, Jafta won MOST IMPROVED CAMPER OF THE WEEK at his basketball camp. He was so excited! He had a great last day and proved that mommy's neurotic insecurities were mostly just projections based on her own lack of corrective emotional experience and fear of competition due to unresolved family of origin issues. Or something like that.Then, after basketball, we went to a toy store and India got to meet Zac Ephron in the flesh cardboard!! She was . . .
righting the religious right
(The following is an article I wrote for ConversantLife)__________________________________There's something in the air right now . . .Something familiar. A growing sense of frenzy that was kicked up around election time, and seems to have re-emerged with the conversation surrounding health care reform. People are panicking. They aren't just disagreeing, or questioning the administration, or sharing opinions. People are yelling and screaming, threatening and freaking, and believing and . . .
the trauma of sports
We had a little crisis this week that was thankfully solved pretty quickly. Jafta has been begging to attend a basketball camp for the past three months, and I signed him up for one through our city for preschool-aged kids. All summer, he's been asking about it and counting down to when it would start. It was supposed to start Monday. On Saturday, I got a call telling me it had been cancelled. I found myself with two options: 1) completely crush my son and have him mope about it endlessly until . . .
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