First, some thoughts on plastic grocery bags vs. paper bags vs. reusable and cloth bags. Knowing which is the most responsible choice is less than straightforward.
Second, a smartphone cannot protect you from your dumb friends. Last week a coworker of mine told a series of contradictory lies to leave work early--one of which was that her mother was having a heart attack. (Seriously, what kind of genius invites that kind of karma into their life?) Soon after she was tagged in a Facebook photo getting her swerve on* and enjoying live music at a local bar. Now she is my former coworker. All this connectivity... I bet she regrets checking in as the Mayor of Millertime last Tuesday night.
Third, tomorrow is the Primary Election in Maryland. I will be manning my local polling place for something like 16 hours, including setup and closing chores. So do me a favor, and show up to vote!
* This was a favorite slang phrase for "getting drunk" used by Holly Vial circa 1996. Thinking about this idiom and her makes me smile. I wonder what she is up to these days. What does it mean? Well, it is a drunk driving reference. As drinking would impede your ability to drive without swerving. Drunk driving is, of course, not funny.
Showing posts with label news. Show all posts
Showing posts with label news. Show all posts
Monday, April 2, 2012
Monday, March 26, 2012
One month after the murder of Trayvon Martin
Let this post serve as notice that it is NEVER okay for an armed moron to harm my child because of this grey hoodie or this bag of Skittles or any potentially intimidating article of clothing she wears or the color of her skin or what neighborhood she is walking in. (Protests happening around the country.)
Although they know the identity of Mr. Martin's assailant, no arrests have been made yet. It's shameful. How about some justice?
Friday, September 16, 2011
An apple a day makes baby go bonkers
This article about the link between pesticide exposure and ADHD in our children is more than a little disturbing. Yet another sign that chemical companies do not have our or our children's best interest at heart.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Portrait of the artist as a refugee
This week was E. Vent. Ful.
First, you heard about the earthquake, right? A 5.8 in Virginia last Tuesday. I was standing in the kitchen shaking my fist at what I thought was a convoy of construction trucks driving by our house because they have an uncanny way of knowing exactly when Maureen is napping. But then the noise changed and sounded like a very strong gust of wind except when I looked outside it wasn't windy. The grandfather clock started chiming loudly, the way it does when you walk past it too heavily. And the lantern hanging over the sink began to swing back and forth. My stomach went all queasy, and I realized we were having an earthquake. Mo slept through it. Robb was sitting at his desk on the boat, but it sloshed the water in the creek and shook the floating dock enough to bounce him around in his chair.
Second, NOAA sent Robb out of town Thursday to help with the hurricane response in Norfolk. Making new surveys of ports after natural disasters is part of his job description. He simply had not been called upon to respond in an emergency until now. Whoosh, off he went. That same day there was an aftershock of 4.5.
Third, without my usual childcare provider--Robb--I was unable to go to work on Friday and Saturday.
Fourth, I panicked about being home alone with a baby and a dog in a hurricane. So I packed up my show and went on the road to Mom's house where I would be safe from the long soggy arm of the storm. They were calling for 8 inches of rain at my house. Walking the dog in that nonsense is bad enough because Sukey refuses to relieve herself in inclement weather but begs to go out constantly, but trying to do it with Maureen in tow in a monsoon... I don't even want to figure that out. Mom has a fenced yard. Problem solved.
Fifth, Mo and I had a nice visit with Aunt Julie on Friday morning. Coastal Hospice ordered all of its patients to evacuate the Ocean City area well in advance of the storm. She and Uncle Rich came to stay at Paul's house. She looks astonishingly like a Brigham. That is to say she has my great-grandfather's thinness and sharp features and nearly has the height. Since I was little Julie always had more meat on her bones, and she resembled the Bealls more. But now she looks like Sissy except very tired. She was glad to see Maureen. And I was glad to see her glad.
Sixth, I fell on the stairs a Mom's house on Saturday afternoon. Mo was in my arms, and I missed the last step. I've walked up and down those stairs about five billions times in my life, so why would I now miscalculate the number of steps to the bottom? That information is a muscle memory. It's like knowing when to kneel, sit, and stand in a Catholic worship service. It's practically hardwired into my DNA. In the split second before my foot turned under and was crushed under the combined 200 pounds of us, I thought, That wasn't the last step, and then we tumbled down onto the tile. I managed to tuck the baby in like a little football. She was startled by the impact but not hurt. Thank goodness. We went to the emergency room, I had x-rays, and the doctor told me I broke my foot. A nurse splinted it and sent me home with crutches. The baby was an angel for the three hours we spent at the hospital. We all went home in the pouring rain.
Seventh, the hurricane cometh. No damage at Mom's house. And around 10pm we heard a large tree go over, but it was in the woods and didn't hurt anything. We lost phone, internet, and tv in one of the surges. Robb's parents in Howard County lost power, as did George and Chere near Baltimore. At our house at Fig Point a rain gutter came loose. But other nearby neighborhoods in Southern Maryland did not fare so well. Lots of trees fell on houses. A swath of Maryland from St. Mary's, Calvert, Anne Arundel, and Baltimore Counties is still in the dark. Including our house where electricity is not expected to be restored until Friday. Robb is sailing home tomorrow to take stock of the situation at the house. Mo and I and Sukey will remain here until we have electric again.
Eighth, I had a freezer full of pumped breast milk. A three week supply. It was my insurance policy against illness, injury, and intoxication. Gone. Justlikethat. I need to stop thinking about it now because I might start blubbering on Mom's laptop.
Ninth, I went to see an ortho on Monday. The ER doctor mis-read my x-rays. My foot is not broken. Halelujah! I have a sprain and a walking boot and no crutches!
Tenth, this week Maureen sprouted two front bottom teeth. One day nothing, the next day teeth were poking out. Crazy! She is so close to crawling it's not even funny. She gets up on all fours and rocks and kind of tosses her torso forward. And she discovered loud. She says, "huhhhHAAAAGHTH!!!!!!" It sounds like she might be gagging to death, but she looks terribly pleased with herself and amused while she's doing it and afterward. I made the sound loudly back at her, and she started to cry. Apparently when she does it it's hilarious, but when I do it it's terrifying. So now I mimic back quietly. The queen approves of this modification. When Robb called tonight I told him how she loves the barnyard sound effects that Gramma Lizzy adds to one of her bedtime stories.
Oh, and that Maureen said her first two words. Robb feels like he's missed all kinds of Mo-isms this week, so he asked breathlessly, "What were they???"
"Go 'Skins."
He paused, and in his best stop-teasing-me-voice replied, "They were not!"
First, you heard about the earthquake, right? A 5.8 in Virginia last Tuesday. I was standing in the kitchen shaking my fist at what I thought was a convoy of construction trucks driving by our house because they have an uncanny way of knowing exactly when Maureen is napping. But then the noise changed and sounded like a very strong gust of wind except when I looked outside it wasn't windy. The grandfather clock started chiming loudly, the way it does when you walk past it too heavily. And the lantern hanging over the sink began to swing back and forth. My stomach went all queasy, and I realized we were having an earthquake. Mo slept through it. Robb was sitting at his desk on the boat, but it sloshed the water in the creek and shook the floating dock enough to bounce him around in his chair.
Second, NOAA sent Robb out of town Thursday to help with the hurricane response in Norfolk. Making new surveys of ports after natural disasters is part of his job description. He simply had not been called upon to respond in an emergency until now. Whoosh, off he went. That same day there was an aftershock of 4.5.
Third, without my usual childcare provider--Robb--I was unable to go to work on Friday and Saturday.
Fourth, I panicked about being home alone with a baby and a dog in a hurricane. So I packed up my show and went on the road to Mom's house where I would be safe from the long soggy arm of the storm. They were calling for 8 inches of rain at my house. Walking the dog in that nonsense is bad enough because Sukey refuses to relieve herself in inclement weather but begs to go out constantly, but trying to do it with Maureen in tow in a monsoon... I don't even want to figure that out. Mom has a fenced yard. Problem solved.
Fifth, Mo and I had a nice visit with Aunt Julie on Friday morning. Coastal Hospice ordered all of its patients to evacuate the Ocean City area well in advance of the storm. She and Uncle Rich came to stay at Paul's house. She looks astonishingly like a Brigham. That is to say she has my great-grandfather's thinness and sharp features and nearly has the height. Since I was little Julie always had more meat on her bones, and she resembled the Bealls more. But now she looks like Sissy except very tired. She was glad to see Maureen. And I was glad to see her glad.
Sixth, I fell on the stairs a Mom's house on Saturday afternoon. Mo was in my arms, and I missed the last step. I've walked up and down those stairs about five billions times in my life, so why would I now miscalculate the number of steps to the bottom? That information is a muscle memory. It's like knowing when to kneel, sit, and stand in a Catholic worship service. It's practically hardwired into my DNA. In the split second before my foot turned under and was crushed under the combined 200 pounds of us, I thought, That wasn't the last step, and then we tumbled down onto the tile. I managed to tuck the baby in like a little football. She was startled by the impact but not hurt. Thank goodness. We went to the emergency room, I had x-rays, and the doctor told me I broke my foot. A nurse splinted it and sent me home with crutches. The baby was an angel for the three hours we spent at the hospital. We all went home in the pouring rain.
Seventh, the hurricane cometh. No damage at Mom's house. And around 10pm we heard a large tree go over, but it was in the woods and didn't hurt anything. We lost phone, internet, and tv in one of the surges. Robb's parents in Howard County lost power, as did George and Chere near Baltimore. At our house at Fig Point a rain gutter came loose. But other nearby neighborhoods in Southern Maryland did not fare so well. Lots of trees fell on houses. A swath of Maryland from St. Mary's, Calvert, Anne Arundel, and Baltimore Counties is still in the dark. Including our house where electricity is not expected to be restored until Friday. Robb is sailing home tomorrow to take stock of the situation at the house. Mo and I and Sukey will remain here until we have electric again.
Eighth, I had a freezer full of pumped breast milk. A three week supply. It was my insurance policy against illness, injury, and intoxication. Gone. Justlikethat. I need to stop thinking about it now because I might start blubbering on Mom's laptop.
Ninth, I went to see an ortho on Monday. The ER doctor mis-read my x-rays. My foot is not broken. Halelujah! I have a sprain and a walking boot and no crutches!
Tenth, this week Maureen sprouted two front bottom teeth. One day nothing, the next day teeth were poking out. Crazy! She is so close to crawling it's not even funny. She gets up on all fours and rocks and kind of tosses her torso forward. And she discovered loud. She says, "huhhhHAAAAGHTH!!!!!!" It sounds like she might be gagging to death, but she looks terribly pleased with herself and amused while she's doing it and afterward. I made the sound loudly back at her, and she started to cry. Apparently when she does it it's hilarious, but when I do it it's terrifying. So now I mimic back quietly. The queen approves of this modification. When Robb called tonight I told him how she loves the barnyard sound effects that Gramma Lizzy adds to one of her bedtime stories.
Oh, and that Maureen said her first two words. Robb feels like he's missed all kinds of Mo-isms this week, so he asked breathlessly, "What were they???"
"Go 'Skins."
He paused, and in his best stop-teasing-me-voice replied, "They were not!"
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Making the breast of it
Did you hear about the breastfeeding incident at the Hirshhorn Museum last month? In short, a mother sat down to nurse and was told by a guard to take it into the restroom. The woman said there wasn't anywhere to sit in the ladies room, so the guard told her to feed her baby while sitting on the toilet. The woman and her family left the museum. The Hirshhorn has since apologized to the woman because a woman's right to breastfeed on federal property (the Hirshhorn is part of the Smithsonian Institute) is protected by a 1999 federal law stating that "...a woman may breastfeed her child at any location in a federal building or on federal property, if the woman and her child are otherwise authorized to be present at the location."
This put me in mind of a similar incident last summer at the Frederick Mall in Maryland (story here). In that case female security guards tried to force a nursing mother to relocate to a nursing lounge in the mall even though Maryland law permits a woman to breastfeed her baby in any public or private place. Check out your state's breastfeeding laws to see if your rights are protected.
Not quite six weeks into nursing, I'm not fully comfortable with nursing in public yet. Theresa made me a "nursing apron," and Jessie is constructing a "hooter hider." I might lash the two capes together to feel the security of full coverage. But I am grateful my right to feed my daughter is protected. When I posted the photo of Robb giving Maureen a bottle a couple weeks ago I had a pang of jealousy. It is all well and good to photograph her drinking breast milk from a bottle with her Dad (something she has done about 5 times so far). But it would be indecent to photograph her eating with me (something she has done more than 300 times in her short time on this earth). It has a stigma, no? Which is a major cultural disconnect. If breastfeeding is strongly recommended by the American Academy of Pediatrics, then why do I feel like nursing in public would mean subjecting my infant daughter to hatred and ridicule--like Frankenstein's monster being chased out of town by a mob of pitchfork-wielding villagers? It's enough to make a nursing mother not want to leave the house. Instead I joined the lactation support group at my local hospital. Here's to hoping I can make it through at least 6 months!
You might recall that several years ago I interviewed for a job in which the interviewer nursed her 2 year old and argued with her husband? (See Interview the Third.) I have been thinking about it, and I don't think I was being squeamish about breastfeeding when I turned down the job. Rather the casual, familiar attitude was what turned me off. The same as if the couple had ordered and consumed a pizza in front of me while they were asking about my work experience. Eating is eating, and closely watching a stranger eat is always a little gross. That's why you don't usually want to do it. Unless you're on a date, in which case you should totally watch and take notes so you know what you're in for. Because if you're not careful you could be watching that spectacle for years.
* * * * *
Calling mommas in the DC Metro area: if you would like to help raise public awareness about the rights of mothers to feed their children in public, you can join the "nurse-in" at the Hirshhorn on Saturday. More details are here.
This put me in mind of a similar incident last summer at the Frederick Mall in Maryland (story here). In that case female security guards tried to force a nursing mother to relocate to a nursing lounge in the mall even though Maryland law permits a woman to breastfeed her baby in any public or private place. Check out your state's breastfeeding laws to see if your rights are protected.
Not quite six weeks into nursing, I'm not fully comfortable with nursing in public yet. Theresa made me a "nursing apron," and Jessie is constructing a "hooter hider." I might lash the two capes together to feel the security of full coverage. But I am grateful my right to feed my daughter is protected. When I posted the photo of Robb giving Maureen a bottle a couple weeks ago I had a pang of jealousy. It is all well and good to photograph her drinking breast milk from a bottle with her Dad (something she has done about 5 times so far). But it would be indecent to photograph her eating with me (something she has done more than 300 times in her short time on this earth). It has a stigma, no? Which is a major cultural disconnect. If breastfeeding is strongly recommended by the American Academy of Pediatrics, then why do I feel like nursing in public would mean subjecting my infant daughter to hatred and ridicule--like Frankenstein's monster being chased out of town by a mob of pitchfork-wielding villagers? It's enough to make a nursing mother not want to leave the house. Instead I joined the lactation support group at my local hospital. Here's to hoping I can make it through at least 6 months!
You might recall that several years ago I interviewed for a job in which the interviewer nursed her 2 year old and argued with her husband? (See Interview the Third.) I have been thinking about it, and I don't think I was being squeamish about breastfeeding when I turned down the job. Rather the casual, familiar attitude was what turned me off. The same as if the couple had ordered and consumed a pizza in front of me while they were asking about my work experience. Eating is eating, and closely watching a stranger eat is always a little gross. That's why you don't usually want to do it. Unless you're on a date, in which case you should totally watch and take notes so you know what you're in for. Because if you're not careful you could be watching that spectacle for years.
* * * * *
Calling mommas in the DC Metro area: if you would like to help raise public awareness about the rights of mothers to feed their children in public, you can join the "nurse-in" at the Hirshhorn on Saturday. More details are here.
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