mothers on the verge

What in the world did I do to waste time before the Internet? Sitting here for one hour, needing to start some work, and flying through the Web reading blog after blog, doing some virtual window shopping for future craft projects, (yum...glass glitter), scanning the news sites. It's amazing. I mean, did I read more? Eat more? Take baths? Watch more television? (which can't be possible.) It's a little Clockwork Orange scary if you ask me.

What a crappy week last week was. Seven days of stress-puppy annoyances all rolled into one nasty big fat week. I am aware that a lot of my posts recently amount to a little more than a mega-winge but so far January has been one big downer. Every year to date I have somehow managed to escape the dreaded January blues. In fact, I kind of dismissed it as a media construct, a psychological hype of a most plastic nature. I guess I was wrong. This angst-ridden January has been handed to me on a moody platter to teach me a lesson - 30-something years of overdue gloom come home to roost. But the outlook is brighter. By the end of the week it will be February and surely a magical mood change is in the offing. I hope so. I really do hope so. I am starting to bore myself.

I used to love Fridays -- those perfect days especially about this time in the afternoon when you know, basically, the work day is over and you can start dreaming about the weekend and time with friends and people you love. Movies. A bit of cleaning. Some late morning breakfasts. Lately, though, Fridays have paralyzed me. Part of it is sitting here hoping editors get back to me. Hoping calls get returned. Hoping I can actually get off my behind and do something productive besides stressing about all the things I should be, uh, doing that would be productive. Maybe it's January. And winter. And that sometimes working alone at home sends me to the television set just to hear a voice in the background. I starting to think that truthfully I am never going to be someone who can just relax. I will create something to angst over even if there is nothing there. Hence my Friday afternoon lull attacks. Thank goodness just 10 minutes left until I can get The Rabbit and my need for diversion w

So according to a new study , the more stressed a pre-K teacher is, the more likely they are to expel a student. Hmmm. So the more of a misfit a teacher, the more likely an innocent child is to be harmed, perhaps permanently, in school. The numbers are very striking: Of teachers who reported "high stress," 14.3 percent had a student that was expelled, from the 4,000 pre-K classes that were randomly surveyed for the report. But of teachers who reported "low stress," just 4.9 percent expelled a student. Boys? Expelled 4 and a half times more often than girls. Older children and African Americans? Also more at risk, according to the Foundation for Child Development, a private, low-income child-focused organization. Okay, some children are just not ready for school. And many teachers are in impossible situations. But it seems to me we have a serious problem here, some big red flags, and I have to wonder how No Child Left Behind, that munchkin-land like solution to real

When I was in the 7th grade a boy in my class asked everyone what we wanted to be when we grew up. My answer? President of the United States. Now believe me, I do not want that job. Truly ever. But then? I remember thinking I wanted to show that boy I could do anything. I could be anything in the world I set my mind to. (Which, I actually, still believe.) No one will be surprised to hear he scoffed and then said, "You can't be President. Girls can't be President." Tonight in the Democratic debate a question was asked of the candidates if they believe African Americans want an African American president so that people will see African Americans differently. But I wondered why they didn't ask if women wanted the same thing too. As a woman, I am tired of making less money. I am tired of being the "lesser sex." I don't like that I have to be both smart and sexy -- but not too sexy. That I have to be cool, and not emotional when I work, but not angry. No

So, any mamas out there have experience weaning their rabbits from the thumb? The Rabbit is now five and still sucking her thumb. Believe me. I don't think this is a huge crisis. I sucked mine until I was at least 7. Might have been 8. But both her dentist and doctor are really putting the pressure on me to make her stop. Even telling her she has to stop. Problem is her teeth, they say, and palate. She has a nice overbite. Nice enough that the teeth sometimes stick out when she smiles. I don't notice it. We're not talking Bugs Bunny. But they say this could permanently affect the permanent teeth. Sigh. See -- I never had orthodontia. Even after my love affair with my thumb. So I have a hard time believing this is the cause of her overbite. I suspect it's her papa's family -- with their severely messed up teeth that required years of braces. Not to mention my own sister and her messed up mouth. Tonight she went to bed crying, knowing she wasn't supposed to suck h

Things I like about the fact that January is halfway through: It's only a week until payday (and boy, this year I really need that paycheck) Only two months and a bit until the clocks go forward It's nearly February... which psychologically feels so much better And that's about as good as it gets.

I'm not sure if it's just a case of the dreaded January blues but I am seriously lacking in lustre. In fact, I am so lacking in motivation that it's starting to worry me. What usually carries me through life is a fierce desire to succeed. Such is my desire to rule the world in some form or another (or at least to be better than most people in my immediate vicinity) that I am usually prepared to put up with any amount of shit to get to my ultimate goal (although if I am frank I am not entirely sure what that goal is apart from earning lots of money and being admired by all and sundry). But in the past few months I seem to have undergone a radical shift in perception. I am no longer overwhelmed by the need to be the best at work. I am increasingly haunted by the spectre of being a lousy mother - I am very much aware that becoming the next Lynne Franks (albeit a less hippy tree-hugging version of her) is not entirely in line with a happy family life. I fear that my children

I know things are hard all across the health care spectrum. I understand that doctors have a hard time chasing patients to pay bills, plus are working against an insurance industry that wants to pay doctors less, and squeeze even more from the insured. I understand that insurance premiums are rising for workers, (and business owners!) and the medical profession and hospitals, with their own insurance premiums that keep rising, are hurting. But.... this story on MSNBC is sick.

Have to admit, we've had a run of good stuff lately. What you ask? Well, a project I spent the last 6 months working on has finally taken lift and is getting some nice attention with a national audience, and I feel very proud of the work. And The Rabbit loves LOVES LOVES!!!!! her teacher and school. And The Prince finally turned a bad situation into something new and got a fresh start. Good omens for 08 right? Well, then, why am I fighting the bad thoughts again? Part of it is The Prince. He never seems satisfied with his situation and takes the door closings hard. Frankly, they're hard. I know it. Believe me I know it. I guess I wished he wouldn't see them all so darkly though. Honestly, if there was ever an Id/Ego battle going on, it's inside me. I take rejection severely hard. So hard I can end up curled on the couch watching The Princess Diaries and sucking down gummies by the pound. And yet, by the next day I'm trying again. It's like some sickness of mine

My GYN, besides sounding like she has a nasal attack 24/7, is also a fairly conservative doc. And so all post-35-year-old patients are sent off for a routine Mammogram. So today was my day. All I am going to say is that apparently I have lots of muscle in mine -- which is good for a variety of, ahem, uplifting reasons. But it also lends itself to what I can only assume is what it will feel like if my breasts ever get caught in the subway doors. By a sadistic train operator. Because of their, uh, density, I had to be "filmed" 7 times. Four apparently is normal. As I stood, naked from the waist up, allowing a stranger to handle my breasts like raw chicken slabs, and then squeezing them between two glass panes, I just kept trying to focus on my Rabbit and her sweet face as the plates attempted to Paillard me. The tech grew concerned and mused that my pain threshold must be low. Whatever. Did I mention you're not allowed to breathe while the machine shoots away? While the pl

Back at work today with a serious case of the New Year blues, partly attributable to serious jet-lag (got back in to London yesterday afternoon). I promised to post from California and I didn't, mainly because I was having too good a time and partly because I didn't go online AT ALL. Both reasons were brilliant and hopefully forgivable . Top 10 reasons why 2007 was one of the best (and most meaningful) Christmases of all time: 1. It was incredibly bittersweet. Regular readers will know that this was because my grandma died on 1 December so it was a landmark Christmas for all the family. Granny loved Christmas and was really looking forward to seeing my girls - she met Firstborn when she was four months old and had not met the Small(er) One, so this felt incredibly sad but also made their meeting the rest of my family, and especially my grandad, very poignant. 2. It was the first Christmas spent with my American family for over 15 years - the last time I was in the US at Christm

No Resolutions here people. I promised. But some things I think that keeping in mind may pep up my 2008: 1. You Don't Have to Answer the Phone. Just because someone calls you doesn't mean you have to be available at that moment. Voicemail anyone? My own grandmother actually refuses to get an answering machine because she doesn't even want the messages. She answers when she wants, and if not, "If it's important they'll call back." 2. Ditto to Email It can wait 10 minutes. Even from the boss, client, daughter, wife, Prince, you get my point. In fact if we all waited 10 minutes, a lot of angry flames, would go up in, well, flames. A magazine publisher I knew answered e-mail twice a day. Twice a day. Didn't even open the program so he couldn't see the letters load in. Try it. Nice. 3. You're Going To Die Okay, a bit of a downer. But think of this: Nothing really counts in the long run. All those extra hours working for more money, better job, bigg

Was thinking of trying to put together some resolutions....and then even The Rabbit asked me this morning, "Mama? Why do you have to make a solutiom? Why not just do it?" Right from a Nike ad into my baby's mouth. But my normal state can't start a new year without hoping for some changes that I'd like to see happen in my life. However, I may take a tip from The Rabbit this year. We took her to Disneyland while in LaLa land this Christmas (which will require its own post) and she stopped at nearly every wishing well she could find. (Let me tell you, there are PLENTY of these.) And every time she passed one, she asked for a coin to throw, which she would hold tightly, and then toss. And then she would look at me or The Prince and state: "You can't tell anyone your wish or it won't come true." So THAT'S why none of my proclamations last beyond Jan 3. For the New Year then, I am full of new ideas, plans, and hopes. Which I will keep, for the mome