vacation

We're headed off to the annual August vacation to Michigan today, so it may be a while until I have any new posts... though I'm not sure it matters, since I think I'll be actually seeing (and talking to! Imagine that!) those few people who read what I write here. :) So looking forward to it.

oh, no!

This is what my son did today. Usually he's so careful with Chef. But one swift, sudden movement, a flash of teeth, and, well--

countdown

1 day left! My book could be in this picture here, even...

some shore photos

I was able to get a lot of fun pictures of baby-j down at the shore (not too difficult when you take 700 shots and weed out 90% of them); here are a couple favorites. We got him this suit mostly because of the UV protection, but it fit pretty nicely. He wore the white hat you see here most of the time so he didn't have to look like this while running around the beach.

july 18

Three. More. Days.

784 pages.

Call me a dork, but I can't wait.

good things

We've been a little bit down in our new home the last few days, thinking about all that we're giving up. Today was a bit better, I think. We met with a new pediatrician, who P and I decided immediately is *the* pediatrician, even better than the one we had in PA and we loved her.

Also, we're starting to think about things that we were forced to give up when we moved to PA three years ago. Costco and the YES Network were two of these things, and I know it seems completely absurd, but it's nice to have 'em back. :)

veggin' out

So I’ve been thinking about changing my status from wanna-be vegetarian (or as the Vegetarian Times cookbook politely—probably too politely—calls us, “flexitarians”) to lacto-ovo vegetarian. The title essay of David Foster Wallace’s Consider the Lobster, which I read last week, served as a good wake-up call, as he discusses the Maine Lobster Festival and the public killing of these lobsters via the "World's Largest Lobster Cooker":

Why is a primitive, inarticulate form of suffering less urgent or uncomfortable for the person who's helping to inflict it by paying for the food it results in? I'm not trying to give you a PETA-like screed here--at least I don't think so. I'm trying, rather, to work out and articulate some of the troubling questions that arise amid all the laughter and saltation and community pride of the Maine Lobster Festival. The truth is that if you, the festival attendee, permit yourself to think that lobsters can suffer and would rather not, the MLF begins to take on the aspect of something like a Roman circus or medieval torture-fest.

Foster Wallace wrote this essay in 2004; I just checked out the MLF's Web site--the 60th anniversary this year promises a new, updated Lobster Cooker. In the context of the above quote, the new, updated LC plan seems bizarre:

The World's Greatest Lobster Cooker is getting a makeover!
You can be a part of the fun and excitement by purchasing a personalized brick that will be used to construct the new cooker. What a great way to have your name or message carry on forever. It's also a great way to pay tribute to someone you love, "In Honor of..." or "In Memory of..."
from http://www.mainelobsterfestival.com/release.php?ID=15

I’m not sure--actually, I doubt--that Foster Wallace is a vegetarian himself: he muses about the inhumane deaths of lobsters, but also critiques alarmist techniques of organizations like PETA. But I like that he seems to be honestly weighing these options: he claims that he hasn't succeeded "in working out any sort of personal ethical system in which the belief [that animals are less morally important than human beings] is truly defensible instead of just selfishly convenient."

And there's the rub. My biggest fear in becoming a vegetarian is that I will eventually be unable to understand the decision of those who eat meat, which includes (will always include!) P. And this seems (a) highly hypocritical, as I’ve been a fake-vegetarian for so long, and (b) unbelievably selfish, as P does most of the cooking in the household, though that of course would have to change. So we'll see. I’ve cut out all the meat in the past week, but I have to admit that I’m finding it difficult to do. Feeling a bit spacey, but that's likely more psychological than anything.

more on bratz

A few months back I wrote about Bratz dolls. Bratz doll books are now apparently marketed by Scholastic in schools. See here: http://www.commercialfreechildhood.org/news/bratzschools.htm. The Campaign for a Commercial-Free Childhood also has a petition going against it.

I’ve included an image of the Baby Bratz here. The bottle on the S&M chain is a nice touch, but I wonder if there might be just too much lipstick? No?

I was going to write something here about how I don't know how parents with daughters deal with all these influences, but that's only one part of the issue, really. How are we parents of sons going to deal with the increased sexualization of young girls, too? Though there is a powerful argument for getting such images out of school-sponsored Scholastic book fairs, we cannot completely shield children from Bratz dolls and the images that inspire them. I wouldn't want to. But how to start the conversation about these things with a teenage son in a way that encourages him to be a good feminist...

I know you're rolling your eyes at me since baby-j only turns 2 next month. I am, however, glad for the time (ok, years) I will need to consider this.

travel food

We all just returned from a week down at the Jersey Shore with my folks. It was fun, but we’re happy to be back. With all the traveling lately, we’ve gotten to be experts at keeping baby-j calm in the car (it involves lots of grapes—or “dips,” as baby-j calls them—and playing the same CD over and over and over). I’ve also gotten pretty good at helpign to feed P as he drives. Of course, I don’t actually feed him, but I’m decent now at wrapping a meal so it’s less likely to spill all over the car as P drives down the highway. On our last trip back from Michigan, we somewhat successfully managed meals like salads and thick sandwiches. This prompted a discussion of what our next challenge might be. P’s suggestion was spaghetti, which we decided would work well with bread dipped in olive oil in a dish that we could somehow affix to the dashboard.

Clearly, we need to spend less time in the car.

the best damn ringbearer in the world

For those of you who are wondering how my brother’s wedding went this weekend--the wedding in which I was a bridesmaid, P was a groomsman, and baby-j a ringbearer--well... suffice it to say that the rings were not well-borne.

But for those who wish more detail: baby-j screamed in my arms going down the aisle at the beginning of the ceremony, then screamed again in P’s arms exiting the church. Apparently he was calm during the actual ceremony, when he played in the kids’ room downstairs with P. That makes 2 weddings and a funeral that P has missed this year as a result of baby-j. I think we’ll wait until he’s about 8 to take him to another one of the former.

But there were sweet moments this weekend, too, like hanging out with baby-j in the air-conditioned limo Hummer (that’ll be the last time you’ll ever read that prepositional phrase on this blog), reading stories to him and my mom. Bopping him every 20 seconds on the head with the ringbearer’s pillow prompted all sorts of fun hysterical giggles. My new sister-in-law looked absolutely radiant, and being a bridesmaid got me up close on the altar to see my brother pushing back the happy tears at the ceremony. With the exception of our clearly-not-wedding-party-material-family, everything else, including the weather, conspired to make a lovely day. And once baby-j was finally passed out on the floor of the country club bridal room, P and I had a good time at the reception. In shifts, of course.