I like comments. Waaaay too much sometimes. I will sit on the edge of my seat sometimes and wait for comments to come in. Well, not really, but it feels that way. Especially when the comments don't come. I watch and wait for a day or two, then I gradually forget that I've written anything at all. With more controversial posts, it is a bit different. It's not the excitement of having someone contribute to a discussion, it's a morbid fascination--the proverbial train wreck. With anxiety, anticipation, and dread, I wait for the lashes. I do the same when I follow heated comments on others' blogs. I can't help myself. This leads to my not posting on certain topics sometimes, until the bottled-up thoughts come bursting forth. And then, the waiting, and the contradicting, and the endless explaining. And that takes up a lot of time that I should be using for other things. Like class prep. Or the job search. Or sewing. Or cooking. Cleaning. Taking care of my kiddos. (Not necessarily in that order. Sewing is first.) This might look like an attempt to avoid a fight. Well it is, but not the way you think. Had I an endless amount of time, and if I really enjoyed that semi-agitated state, I would engage cheerfully in the debate (well, maybe not cheerfully--that's part of the problem). But I don't. And so I was mulling this over, and I thought about something:
All of this commenting really underscores the differences between print and electronic practices of literacy. Some of the age-old accepted properties of written language have been its relative permanence, its separation from the human life-world, its separation from its creator and consequent inability to answer questions that are posed to the text with anything other than the words that were originally set down (with the possible exception of updated editions, but once updated, they are still silent and static). With online communication, much of this changes. Online communication is certainly not permanent. Content is ever-changing, sometimes according to the will of its author(s), sometimes not. I would suggest that in some ways it is still detached from the human life-world, which is one of the problems or dangers of online communication as well as one of its liberating qualities. When discourse is not taking place in real time with real people, one can disregard all of the usual constraints on the content of our discourses, but we also have the freedom to disregard all of the conventions of civility. People are not people online; we have the ability to treat them--individually or collectively--with contempt, disregard, and intolerance. But the most significant difference is that the author is not necessarily separate from the product of his/her literacy. When we imagine someone reading a book, we hardly expect the writer to be standing next to us, answering our questions and objections, tit-for-tat. And that's as it should be. Because if the author knows that anyone who has questions about his/her work will have only the work itself to consult for the answers, s/he has to be more careful about what s/he writes in the beginning. Unlike speech--when we speak, we usually don't have everything perfectly prepared, logically considered. There's a lot of "off the cuff" discourse in face-to-face interaction. Not so in written discourse. But that is changing. . .
When we visit blogs, we generally know that nothing but a computer screen and a semblance of anonymity separates us from the author--or the reader. The semblance of anonymity protects or exposes us, depending--protects us from being exposed personally for our thoughts or beliefs, protects us from being linked with our words; exposes us to the thoughts of others, for better or worse. The proximity allows access. As an author, I know I can be questioned. That I may be called on to explain myself, argue my position, hash out my beliefs. This can be a good thing. As a reader, I know that I can challenge a position, ask questions for clarity, make my alternate theory heard and demand recognition for my alternate theory. I am also free to support, reinforce, or acknowledge others' ideas. Or not. This can make me (or my counterparts) hesitant, aggressive, timid, bold, or. . . lazy. Discourse that can be questioned, after all, and from which we can expect a new answer, does not have to take itself quite as seriously, to be as complete, as refined, as polished. On the other hand, it can be more natural, more accessible (in multiple ways), more tentative, and more mutable--both in terms of its appearance and in terms of the ideas that are expressed, which might stand to change from contact with others.
So, you might ask, did I turn off comments in order to produce more refined, more complete, more polished discourse? Nope. But it made me think a lot about literacy in an online environment, and I decided to share.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Why is "Religious" a Dirty Word?
You see it paired with nasty words like "ideologue" and "conservative," it is not a far reach from there to "extremism" and "theocracy." All who are religious oppose sex ed, endorse book burning (at least metaphorically), probably endorse heterosexual monogamy, or at least pay lip service to it, support the NRA and the death penalty, and want to impose their backward morality on other people's bodies. I think I forgot to mention stupid or ignorant, generally opposed to science and rational thought more generally.
This pretty much sums me up--don'tcha know--so I'm not really qualified to judge the alternative. I just know that they're much, much better than me. Every now & then, you'll hear about someone who claims to be religious and yet still opposes war--another thing religious people don't do--or agrees that permitting abortion is okay. That puts them in the "decidedly not wacky" category.
I'll admit to looking down on Evangelical Christians in my own elitist way, particularly in the past, but lately I feel like I can understand and accept them more in theory, although theoretically I am not an understanding and accepting person. I still shudder at the more touchy-feely types. And I'm still put off by those who declare their love for Jesus above all things in classroom introductions. But they're simultaneously witnessing and being counter-cultural, and who can argue with that?
Anyway, I don't like cultish behavior any more than the next guy, but it really bothers me when just acknowledging that religion plays a significant role in one's behavior, philosophy, politics is enough to invoke scorn, derision, disgust, mockery and, finally, fear. What are they all afraid of? That at the end of the day, those moronic religious (Christian) types might be. . . *gasp, shudder* . . . right about something?
I've been there, my friend.
This pretty much sums me up--don'tcha know--so I'm not really qualified to judge the alternative. I just know that they're much, much better than me. Every now & then, you'll hear about someone who claims to be religious and yet still opposes war--another thing religious people don't do--or agrees that permitting abortion is okay. That puts them in the "decidedly not wacky" category.
I'll admit to looking down on Evangelical Christians in my own elitist way, particularly in the past, but lately I feel like I can understand and accept them more in theory, although theoretically I am not an understanding and accepting person. I still shudder at the more touchy-feely types. And I'm still put off by those who declare their love for Jesus above all things in classroom introductions. But they're simultaneously witnessing and being counter-cultural, and who can argue with that?
Anyway, I don't like cultish behavior any more than the next guy, but it really bothers me when just acknowledging that religion plays a significant role in one's behavior, philosophy, politics is enough to invoke scorn, derision, disgust, mockery and, finally, fear. What are they all afraid of? That at the end of the day, those moronic religious (Christian) types might be. . . *gasp, shudder* . . . right about something?
I've been there, my friend.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Deep Thought
Note to self:
The philosophical questions of life don't seem so burdensome when you just live--work--play--act--do things. . .
Okay, maybe that was a shallow thought.
The philosophical questions of life don't seem so burdensome when you just live--work--play--act--do things. . .
Okay, maybe that was a shallow thought.
Prayer Request for 8/26
Please offer a little prayer for my mom, who is having surgery for a gall bladder polyp today in New Orleans, where medical care is not exactly stellar these days. Thanks!
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Let's Say a Prayer
For families.
For families that are having difficulties, especially those with little children involved.
For families in which one or more members have dangerous or stressful health issues.
And in thanksgiving, if our families are healthy and strong.
For families that are having difficulties, especially those with little children involved.
For families in which one or more members have dangerous or stressful health issues.
And in thanksgiving, if our families are healthy and strong.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
My Top Thoughts after Finishing the Ph.D.
- Okay, so I have a Ph.D. I'm supposed to know stuff. . .
- So when was I supposed to learn all of the stuff that I am supposed to know?
- There's a point in any academic career when one has forgotten more than one actually knows at the moment. Is it too early to say I'm there?
- Oh cr*p! I have to get a job now!
- Wait, you mean there's a(n intellectual) world outside of this dissertation?
- Maybe I could sit in on a few graduate courses & get up to speed. No wait. . .
- You mean other people read books without someone telling them to??
- Note to self: Come up with new excuse for being a crummy teacher. . .
- Dr. who are they talking about? Oh, that's me!
- Now what?
- The rest of the thoughts have to do with student loans (language not appropriate to this blog. . .)
Thursday, August 14, 2008
What to Blog?
Okay, I'm having a blogging lapse. The world isn't presenting itself in bloggable chunks. And I've started worrying about my audience and my blogging persona. I feel like the persona I present is so fragmented that I just don't seem like one person, and I'm not sure that the part of me I'm representing at any given time is really worth representing. I mean, why am I so darned grumpy all of the time? It's not hormones any more. Those are feeling better than they have in years. When I have any "IDEAS," they are fleeting and usually occur in the car or bathtub and by the time I'm by the computer they just don't seem worth the effort to write down. I could blog about the job search, but who really cares about those anxieties? I don't even care much about them. They just surface and are replaced by more immediate concerns. And when I try to write critical observations about how I fit (or don't) in my discipline, I get in trouble for it, and really, tongue-in-cheek and hyperbole don't play well in blogs, and I really like tongue-in-cheek and hyperbole. I've got a family blog where I could write about family stuff, only I don't because it takes a huge time commitment to upload photos. I have a book blog where I'm supposed to be writing about things I'm reading, only I'm not reading much. I've missed the last two Saturdays of research in the sci fi archives because of toddler illness and a graduation celebration, and all of the Saturdays' worth of research I haven't blogged about is stale and it's hard to muster up the energy to blog about them. Classes have ended for now, so that's out. Spiritual stuff occurs to me sometimes, but I'm in such a serious dry spell that it's difficult to get really excited about anything theological right now. I feel like such a bad Catholic. A LOSER Convert. So when I think, "Oh, I'll post about the homily," I just feel like a phony. More often, however, I think about posting things about our new associate pastor, who seems to have some mental block against all things Trinitarian. 'Cause if there's anything to be said or done in threes, he messes it up. Case in point: "Through Him, With Him." The next Mass?: "Through Him, In Him." Also, "Christ have Mercy. Lord Have Mercy." Looooooooong pause. About the time he remembers that something is missing, the choir starts in. Nice guy, but with serious stage fright, it seems. Is that really something I should be blogging about? Probably not. I could blog about NFP, but I don't wanna. There's some family stuff going on--extended family stuff that's really uncomfortable & messy to deal with, but why would I want to subject everyone else to that? I'm uncomfortable as it is about giving everyone the impression that I'm, well, as crotchety as I probably am. So I remain quiet. Or post about what not to post.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Chiclette's New Fairy Dress
I've been working for a couple of weeks on this dress that Chiclette wore to the graduation. It's another Ottobre design--this one a bit more detailed, perhaps, than anything else I've made, including the chicken dress! Or perhaps it seemed so because I had to fray-check and then hem ALL of those petals! PLUS I did 9 for a dress for Doodle--same fabric for the petals, different coordinating fabric for the dress.
I graduated!
Pics on the family blog.
Things went well. I was a little stressed with Doodle up on the front row of a balcony with a rather low railing, but all went well. Very well. She went to the bathroom no fewer than 3 times! She watched some episodes of Doug--now available on iTunes!--on Brother's iPod. Chiclette fell asleep. And I found myself less stressed after I crossed the stage. Coincidence?
Things went well. I was a little stressed with Doodle up on the front row of a balcony with a rather low railing, but all went well. Very well. She went to the bathroom no fewer than 3 times! She watched some episodes of Doug--now available on iTunes!--on Brother's iPod. Chiclette fell asleep. And I found myself less stressed after I crossed the stage. Coincidence?
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Rest of the Week Follow-up
Thanks everyone! Things have been better the past day or two, though Doodle is still very cranky and not really eating. Before things are completely back to normal, I get to start stressing about graduation. Have I explained that I feel very inadequate in social occasions? Any time I think about large gatherings of people--whether they are people I know or not--I get to feeling very anxious and all of my worst anti-social tendencies reveal themselves. That, and little things start to get to me, like the doctoral robe's sleeves being different lengths, or the fact that "unisex" means "not for full busts"!!
So anyway, graduation is tomorrow morning, and I'm all wound up. I finally decided that Doodle will be there--I debated for a while, knowing that she really won't enjoy herself. But I couldn't bear the thought of having Phelan there, and Isabelle, and not Helena. Besides feeling like I am not representing my family accurately by having only 2 of my 3 children there, it seems to imply something about her--that she was not good enough to be there. If I was leaving both babies with someone, it might feel different. After all, my son IS the only one with the patience for this kind of thing, and the only one who begins to understand the significance of a graduation. I decided that I didn't want to try to explain in 5 or 6 years, "Well, Brother was at Momma's graduation, and so was Chiclette, but not you." What child is going to understand that one? So anyway, she will be going. To a 2-hour graduation ceremony. With many, many things to entertain her. And there are still times when keeping her in a 1-hour Mass is challenging (notice I didn't say keeping her still--that would be one of the minor miracles). :) I love my Doodle, but she is not a sedate child. I rely on the presence of aunts and an uncle to keep her well-behaved!
After graduation? I get to pull together Summer II grades by Monday. We have a little breakfast/brunch planned for Saturday. THAT will be the highlight of my weekend! (Not so intimidating, you know?)
So anyway, graduation is tomorrow morning, and I'm all wound up. I finally decided that Doodle will be there--I debated for a while, knowing that she really won't enjoy herself. But I couldn't bear the thought of having Phelan there, and Isabelle, and not Helena. Besides feeling like I am not representing my family accurately by having only 2 of my 3 children there, it seems to imply something about her--that she was not good enough to be there. If I was leaving both babies with someone, it might feel different. After all, my son IS the only one with the patience for this kind of thing, and the only one who begins to understand the significance of a graduation. I decided that I didn't want to try to explain in 5 or 6 years, "Well, Brother was at Momma's graduation, and so was Chiclette, but not you." What child is going to understand that one? So anyway, she will be going. To a 2-hour graduation ceremony. With many, many things to entertain her. And there are still times when keeping her in a 1-hour Mass is challenging (notice I didn't say keeping her still--that would be one of the minor miracles). :) I love my Doodle, but she is not a sedate child. I rely on the presence of aunts and an uncle to keep her well-behaved!
After graduation? I get to pull together Summer II grades by Monday. We have a little breakfast/brunch planned for Saturday. THAT will be the highlight of my weekend! (Not so intimidating, you know?)
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
My Four Copays --Caution: The squeamish should proceed with care
Let me tell you about my weekend. . . and the beginning of my week.
On Friday, things were good. I didn't particularly feel like cooking; having just gotten to the end of a month of scraping by, I wanted a little splurge (even though my husband rationally--and uncharacteristically for either of us!--argued that if we didn't splurge, we could have a bigger splurge for the after-graduation mini-celebration), and decided to go get some drive-through, notch-above-fast-food-Mexican for dinner. I took Doodle with me to give my husband some (relative) peace! So we came home and Doodle went through her latest coming-home ritual--she ran to the stepping-stones between the two apartment buildings and started following the path. Just as I was reminding her not to run, she flew through the air and landed with her knee on the very edge of the stone. I scooped her up, bleeding, and ran into the house to wash it & apply pressure. Well, the gash was deep, so I called the insurance nurse line. Their standard reply seems to be "go to the emergency room" (it's their "limitation of liability" line--not nurse line!) and so we were advised, because the wound was opening when she bent her knee, and also to check out the kneecap, to go to the hospital. We were seen rather quickly, which was good since the waiting room was full of people throwing up. I was concerned that Doodle would be a bit freaked out by the spectacle, but she was fine. In fact, she was the Belle of the ER. She got grape juice, 3 sheets of stickers, some Motrin for the soreness, and the most expensive bandaid I've ever purchased in my life, and we returned home for a peaceful night (and our dinner). Well, sort of. . .
When Doodle was checked into the ER, her temperature was 99.5, which by today's standards, counts as normal, though when I was growing up we called that a low-grade fever. Nothing to worry about, right? Remember, she had had Motrin. Well, she woke up at about 4:00 Saturday morning with much higher fever. It got as high as 102 that night; the next day, when it went up a degree to 103 after she had had Ibuprofin, I decided to take her to the "today clinic" instead of chancing another pricey (and unnecessary) ER visit if the medicine wouldn't bring down the fever. Of course it did. By the time we had her checked in to the "today clinic," her temperature was normal. But it was still good to have her checked. Her ears were normal; her throat was a little red. She had a badly executed strep test that came back negative. (She had been complaining about her throat.) Nothing conclusive. So we went home. Well, throughout the weekend, the fever continued to spike from 101-102 when the medicine wore off. She woke up burning hot & shaky each night. Monday, I called her doctor's office and spoke to the nurse, who said that they usually say that after fever has continued for 3 days, they want to see the child. She offered to get her in that afternoon, but I waited until Tuesday anyway. I missed my last class because the babies were sleeping and I was not going to wake a feverish child to leave. My husband picked up their response papers.
All of this time, she had been in a relatively good mood--for a sick child. In fact, she was incredibly sweet. Sunday night, she started with some nasal congestion, and the mood shifted. She is much more irritable. So after another feverish night Monday night, we took her in to her appointment. It seems that hers was the 4th or 5th case of exactly these symptoms--with the congestion at the end of the 3 or 4 days--that he had seen. (I love this doctor, btw. I can't imagine a better pediatrician.) So we figure, the worst is probably over. We hope. I asked him about an ongoing problem we have been having with Doodle that is making potty-training absolute HELL. All throughout June she would have off-and-on diarrhea-like symptoms. It was awful. It would start at the beginning of the week, and by the end, after much yogurt, she was fine. And this had started happening in conjunction with the virus. The doctor explained that he calls this kind of thing "toddler diarrhea," or "slick gut" or "Schlitterban gut" (after the water park). What happens is that from eating certain kinds of fruits and drinking certain fruit juices, the acids burn away the tendrils of the vilii in the intestines. This causes a problem with absorption of nutrients and leads to the rapid passage of all of the food from the body. The remedy is a high-fat diet, milk fat in particular. Mandarin oranges are the worst for causing this, and they are her favorite fruit, and have been since she was a very young toddler. Needless to say, it was a relief to know how to prevent and cure this condition!! So we went home, anticipating a peaceful afternoon. . .
Well, let me start by saying that at 9 months, my Chiclette is further along in her mobility than either of the other children have been. She not only crawls and sits, she stands, shuffles, and climbs (onto our wooden futon-sofa). She also falls. A lot. She has hit herself more times on that wooden futon than Doodle EVER did. Usually she cries a little & gets up again with no problem. You know where this is going, right? So yesterday afternoon, she took one of her now-famous spills and hit her mouth on the futon, causing her two little bottom teeth (presumably) to cut a nice slit in the very tip of her little tongue. And as with any mouth injury, there was blood everywhere. I scooped her up, found a washcloth, cold water, and ice, and started reviewing my options. ER? Not if I can help it. Call my husband? Not without a plan of action. Call my mom? Not this time. Call my friend with 3 kids, who might have a suggestion? Call my sister to come help me take the kids? No, she can't drive & I would lose time picking her up. All of this in the first 1:35 minutes after it happened. So I called the pediatrician's office. Having gotten past the reception desk with careful phrasing ("It's not an emergency, but I have a quick question about a mouth injury. Can I have a direct line to the nurse?"), I learned that both doctors' nurses were busy (the ones we see, anyway), and then, considering further, I decided to make an appointment, only to find out that they were booked, so effectively, the only way to get in was to speak to a nurse. So I left a message for them to call and made plans to head to that "today clinic" again. . . (Keep in mind that we had been to see the pediatrician with Doodle that morning!!) I had my son call my husband to meet us (his boss gave him a ride, as I have our vehicle), grabbed ice and a couple of washcloths (one fell on the ground and had to be thrown back into the house as we left), gave my son a pep talk about staying cool in emergency situations and doing what needs to be done (I operate well on adrenaline) as he struggled with nausea and prepared to be the one in the back to administer the icy washcloth in the baby mouth. Doodle was very concerned. While I was on the phone, she kept saying, "Baby B--- a hurt you! A hurt you?" She brought Chiclette the baby dress I was making to try to make her happy. Doodle was crying in the car to see the blood. So I had Doodle start singing "Frere Jacques"--in French and English--to calm the Chiclette. So we arrived; my husband arrived, and Chiclette and I were shown to the room fairly soon for a walk-in clinic, while Brother, Sister, and Daddy waited in the waiting room. For a long time. While phonecalls were made and I waited with only a few bits of gauze (and then ice that I commandeered from a housekeeping person, and some wax cups that are in the room, a sink, some papertowels, and eventually a washcloth, when it was time to leave) trying to stem the still-bleeding tongue. She wanted to nurse--that was a mess. :( I was very concerned about the blood she was swallowing.
By way of wrapping up a long story, they don't put stitches in tongues (thankfully, actually) if they can help it, and I was assured that it WOULD stop bleeding. We were sent home, not particularly peacefully, to deal with the bleeding as best we could. A few more scares that night--I gave her Tylenol, and she almost immediately threw up, and that was pretty gruesome. Now, if my son is a little squeamish, my husband is more so, perhaps owing to a sibling's bloody injury he witnessed as a child. So throughout the night, I was either ordering him to leave the room and NOT to help lest he turn a few shades of green (poor thing!!) and throw up or pass out or WATCHING him turn green. :( But you know, you can't blame someone for that kind of thing, and though he felt bad, I was in control of the blood as long as he was in charge of the toddler (and some bloody laundry). She went through a few outfits, three bibs, but gradually, gradually, the bleeding began to be less frequent, and bleed less each time. She did sleep a bit, which allowed the wound to rest without her messing with it! Finally, after about 6 hours, it stopped bleeding. I had to feed her solids in spite of the bleeding to keep her from crying, which would have made it worse. We did chill the food so it would be somewhat soothing, and the feeding went surprisingly well in spite of the blood. Nursing made it start up once. She drank a LOT of ice water--we were advised to give her lots of fluids. But it ended.
I carry my tension in my shoulders, and let me tell you about the knots I had! It's one thing when an injury occurs, is patched, and everyone moves on. It's another thing to have to deal with this kind of bleeding for hours, worried about what toys she can play with, trying to minimize the mess, stop the flow, keep her happy. But we all survived. And everyone slept pretty well last night, considering. Many prayers were said throughout the evening.
Oh! And Chiclette now finds herself confined to a much smaller space--with no furniture.
On Friday, things were good. I didn't particularly feel like cooking; having just gotten to the end of a month of scraping by, I wanted a little splurge (even though my husband rationally--and uncharacteristically for either of us!--argued that if we didn't splurge, we could have a bigger splurge for the after-graduation mini-celebration), and decided to go get some drive-through, notch-above-fast-food-Mexican for dinner. I took Doodle with me to give my husband some (relative) peace! So we came home and Doodle went through her latest coming-home ritual--she ran to the stepping-stones between the two apartment buildings and started following the path. Just as I was reminding her not to run, she flew through the air and landed with her knee on the very edge of the stone. I scooped her up, bleeding, and ran into the house to wash it & apply pressure. Well, the gash was deep, so I called the insurance nurse line. Their standard reply seems to be "go to the emergency room" (it's their "limitation of liability" line--not nurse line!) and so we were advised, because the wound was opening when she bent her knee, and also to check out the kneecap, to go to the hospital. We were seen rather quickly, which was good since the waiting room was full of people throwing up. I was concerned that Doodle would be a bit freaked out by the spectacle, but she was fine. In fact, she was the Belle of the ER. She got grape juice, 3 sheets of stickers, some Motrin for the soreness, and the most expensive bandaid I've ever purchased in my life, and we returned home for a peaceful night (and our dinner). Well, sort of. . .
When Doodle was checked into the ER, her temperature was 99.5, which by today's standards, counts as normal, though when I was growing up we called that a low-grade fever. Nothing to worry about, right? Remember, she had had Motrin. Well, she woke up at about 4:00 Saturday morning with much higher fever. It got as high as 102 that night; the next day, when it went up a degree to 103 after she had had Ibuprofin, I decided to take her to the "today clinic" instead of chancing another pricey (and unnecessary) ER visit if the medicine wouldn't bring down the fever. Of course it did. By the time we had her checked in to the "today clinic," her temperature was normal. But it was still good to have her checked. Her ears were normal; her throat was a little red. She had a badly executed strep test that came back negative. (She had been complaining about her throat.) Nothing conclusive. So we went home. Well, throughout the weekend, the fever continued to spike from 101-102 when the medicine wore off. She woke up burning hot & shaky each night. Monday, I called her doctor's office and spoke to the nurse, who said that they usually say that after fever has continued for 3 days, they want to see the child. She offered to get her in that afternoon, but I waited until Tuesday anyway. I missed my last class because the babies were sleeping and I was not going to wake a feverish child to leave. My husband picked up their response papers.
All of this time, she had been in a relatively good mood--for a sick child. In fact, she was incredibly sweet. Sunday night, she started with some nasal congestion, and the mood shifted. She is much more irritable. So after another feverish night Monday night, we took her in to her appointment. It seems that hers was the 4th or 5th case of exactly these symptoms--with the congestion at the end of the 3 or 4 days--that he had seen. (I love this doctor, btw. I can't imagine a better pediatrician.) So we figure, the worst is probably over. We hope. I asked him about an ongoing problem we have been having with Doodle that is making potty-training absolute HELL. All throughout June she would have off-and-on diarrhea-like symptoms. It was awful. It would start at the beginning of the week, and by the end, after much yogurt, she was fine. And this had started happening in conjunction with the virus. The doctor explained that he calls this kind of thing "toddler diarrhea," or "slick gut" or "Schlitterban gut" (after the water park). What happens is that from eating certain kinds of fruits and drinking certain fruit juices, the acids burn away the tendrils of the vilii in the intestines. This causes a problem with absorption of nutrients and leads to the rapid passage of all of the food from the body. The remedy is a high-fat diet, milk fat in particular. Mandarin oranges are the worst for causing this, and they are her favorite fruit, and have been since she was a very young toddler. Needless to say, it was a relief to know how to prevent and cure this condition!! So we went home, anticipating a peaceful afternoon. . .
Well, let me start by saying that at 9 months, my Chiclette is further along in her mobility than either of the other children have been. She not only crawls and sits, she stands, shuffles, and climbs (onto our wooden futon-sofa). She also falls. A lot. She has hit herself more times on that wooden futon than Doodle EVER did. Usually she cries a little & gets up again with no problem. You know where this is going, right? So yesterday afternoon, she took one of her now-famous spills and hit her mouth on the futon, causing her two little bottom teeth (presumably) to cut a nice slit in the very tip of her little tongue. And as with any mouth injury, there was blood everywhere. I scooped her up, found a washcloth, cold water, and ice, and started reviewing my options. ER? Not if I can help it. Call my husband? Not without a plan of action. Call my mom? Not this time. Call my friend with 3 kids, who might have a suggestion? Call my sister to come help me take the kids? No, she can't drive & I would lose time picking her up. All of this in the first 1:35 minutes after it happened. So I called the pediatrician's office. Having gotten past the reception desk with careful phrasing ("It's not an emergency, but I have a quick question about a mouth injury. Can I have a direct line to the nurse?"), I learned that both doctors' nurses were busy (the ones we see, anyway), and then, considering further, I decided to make an appointment, only to find out that they were booked, so effectively, the only way to get in was to speak to a nurse. So I left a message for them to call and made plans to head to that "today clinic" again. . . (Keep in mind that we had been to see the pediatrician with Doodle that morning!!) I had my son call my husband to meet us (his boss gave him a ride, as I have our vehicle), grabbed ice and a couple of washcloths (one fell on the ground and had to be thrown back into the house as we left), gave my son a pep talk about staying cool in emergency situations and doing what needs to be done (I operate well on adrenaline) as he struggled with nausea and prepared to be the one in the back to administer the icy washcloth in the baby mouth. Doodle was very concerned. While I was on the phone, she kept saying, "Baby B--- a hurt you! A hurt you?" She brought Chiclette the baby dress I was making to try to make her happy. Doodle was crying in the car to see the blood. So I had Doodle start singing "Frere Jacques"--in French and English--to calm the Chiclette. So we arrived; my husband arrived, and Chiclette and I were shown to the room fairly soon for a walk-in clinic, while Brother, Sister, and Daddy waited in the waiting room. For a long time. While phonecalls were made and I waited with only a few bits of gauze (and then ice that I commandeered from a housekeeping person, and some wax cups that are in the room, a sink, some papertowels, and eventually a washcloth, when it was time to leave) trying to stem the still-bleeding tongue. She wanted to nurse--that was a mess. :( I was very concerned about the blood she was swallowing.
By way of wrapping up a long story, they don't put stitches in tongues (thankfully, actually) if they can help it, and I was assured that it WOULD stop bleeding. We were sent home, not particularly peacefully, to deal with the bleeding as best we could. A few more scares that night--I gave her Tylenol, and she almost immediately threw up, and that was pretty gruesome. Now, if my son is a little squeamish, my husband is more so, perhaps owing to a sibling's bloody injury he witnessed as a child. So throughout the night, I was either ordering him to leave the room and NOT to help lest he turn a few shades of green (poor thing!!) and throw up or pass out or WATCHING him turn green. :( But you know, you can't blame someone for that kind of thing, and though he felt bad, I was in control of the blood as long as he was in charge of the toddler (and some bloody laundry). She went through a few outfits, three bibs, but gradually, gradually, the bleeding began to be less frequent, and bleed less each time. She did sleep a bit, which allowed the wound to rest without her messing with it! Finally, after about 6 hours, it stopped bleeding. I had to feed her solids in spite of the bleeding to keep her from crying, which would have made it worse. We did chill the food so it would be somewhat soothing, and the feeding went surprisingly well in spite of the blood. Nursing made it start up once. She drank a LOT of ice water--we were advised to give her lots of fluids. But it ended.
I carry my tension in my shoulders, and let me tell you about the knots I had! It's one thing when an injury occurs, is patched, and everyone moves on. It's another thing to have to deal with this kind of bleeding for hours, worried about what toys she can play with, trying to minimize the mess, stop the flow, keep her happy. But we all survived. And everyone slept pretty well last night, considering. Many prayers were said throughout the evening.
Oh! And Chiclette now finds herself confined to a much smaller space--with no furniture.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Mosaic Meme
H/T Melanie
Questions:
1. What is your first name?
2. Favorite food?
3. Where did you go to high school?
4. Favorite color?
5. Celebrity crush?
6. Favorite drink?
7. Dream vacation?
8. Favorite dessert?
9. What do you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. One word to describe you?
12. Hobby?
Directions:
a. Type your answer to each of the questions above into Flickr Search. b. Using only the first page, pick an image. c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into fd’s mosaic maker. d. Save image to hard drive and post to blogger. e. Copy HTML code for flickr photo credits and paste at the bottom of the post.
Credits:
1. Title Omitted, 2. Paella a la Valenciana, 3. Nightfall Over Riverdale, 4. The closed window, 5. The Dornoch Firth, 6. Orange Wine, 7. Rossbeigh Strand (HDR Test #1), 8. drinking chocolate, monochrome, 9. 3 marias, 10. The Avenue in mist and sun, 11. Questions/story of my wild river to my ego! (4), 12. chair I love...with pillow I sewed
My Comments:
I looooooove this meme! The resulting images bear very little resemblance to my actual answers, but the fact that I chose them all from the resulting images on Flickr means that the whole thing bears my stamp--in this case, a kind of starkness. I want to do another one with alternate answers. . .
Like this!
1. Church and lace, 2. Pinocchio's Pizza farm, 3. Jefferson Parish & Orleans Parish, 4. Mangosteen, 5. Red Rex Protea flower bud, 6. Offering to the Gods (who must be crazy!), 7. Disney's Magic Kingdom Fireworks, 8. butterfly napoleon, 9. Beautiful & calm, 10. Call of the Raven (formerly Nature's Special Effects), 11. Irrationalities Dark Night..., 12. Sewing Children's Clothing, 1953
A different side of me?
Questions:
1. What is your first name?
2. Favorite food?
3. Where did you go to high school?
4. Favorite color?
5. Celebrity crush?
6. Favorite drink?
7. Dream vacation?
8. Favorite dessert?
9. What do you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. One word to describe you?
12. Hobby?
Directions:
a. Type your answer to each of the questions above into Flickr Search. b. Using only the first page, pick an image. c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into fd’s mosaic maker. d. Save image to hard drive and post to blogger. e. Copy HTML code for flickr photo credits and paste at the bottom of the post.
Credits:
1. Title Omitted, 2. Paella a la Valenciana, 3. Nightfall Over Riverdale, 4. The closed window, 5. The Dornoch Firth, 6. Orange Wine, 7. Rossbeigh Strand (HDR Test #1), 8. drinking chocolate, monochrome, 9. 3 marias, 10. The Avenue in mist and sun, 11. Questions/story of my wild river to my ego! (4), 12. chair I love...with pillow I sewed
My Comments:
I looooooove this meme! The resulting images bear very little resemblance to my actual answers, but the fact that I chose them all from the resulting images on Flickr means that the whole thing bears my stamp--in this case, a kind of starkness. I want to do another one with alternate answers. . .
Like this!
1. Church and lace, 2. Pinocchio's Pizza farm, 3. Jefferson Parish & Orleans Parish, 4. Mangosteen, 5. Red Rex Protea flower bud, 6. Offering to the Gods (who must be crazy!), 7. Disney's Magic Kingdom Fireworks, 8. butterfly napoleon, 9. Beautiful & calm, 10. Call of the Raven (formerly Nature's Special Effects), 11. Irrationalities Dark Night..., 12. Sewing Children's Clothing, 1953
A different side of me?
Teaching The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen, and other things. . .
If you haven't read the original, you can read it here. I assigned an essay on "The Moral Simplification of Disney's 'The Little Mermaid,'" and had them read the original text. I don't think any of them had read it before.
My first surprise was when it was argued that the Disney version was better by virtue of its simplicity because without the immortality of the soul as a subtext, it would be more accessible to those who were atheist or agnostic, and so did not wish for their children to be exposed to difficult questions that would then require explanation. Also, the replay value of a text with such an unhappy ending--one that instructed rather than amusing--was called into question. This rather put a damper on the prospect of discussing Andersen's text on its own terms, but then, with such a popular version as a comparison, I guess the original was at a disadvantage. The essay argued that the happy ending does rather a disservice to the reader, creating expectations that wishes will always be fulfilled, and attributing misfortune to the will of a single malevolent force. We wound up discussing the issue of representation of parental authority, and why parents feel threatened when fictional characters disobey (and get away with it)--not an issue in the original. Another point was that it contains more relevant topics--like not to talk to strangers--than the immortality of the soul. I tried to compare the complexity of the two issues. Even if you're not interested in the immortality of the soul, you can still concede that the question is more complex, no? The issue of why the mermaid could not achieve both a soul and true love was raised--the dichotomy was seen as a false one.
I admit that I felt a bit at a disadvantage because the Andersen text was being charged with not being politically or socially relevant. Maybe that's why it was excluded from the anthology!! But then, I think it's a problem when the expectation is that the world should be fair, and fiction is expected either to create a safehaven where the world looks fair, or becomes more fair (just), or acknowledges its unfairness in a way that places blame or suggests a remedy. I never had a problem with the notion that toils and suffering could be fruitless, even as a child--except that her toils were not fruitless, as she was granted the opportunity to gain for herself an immortal soul. But if that consideration is alien to your worldview, it's rather difficult to entertain that as a concrete gain. So how to discuss texts with a Christian subtext in a secular university context?
I was particularly interested in the nature of love and the representation of marriage. Observe this passage:
In order to have something to discuss, I did ask what a feminist perspective might be, but that was too easy, really. She is dehumanized--being non-human in the first place doesn't really matter, or rather, it does because the female protagonist is alienated from the patriarchal world from the very nature of her being (or non-being)--and depends on finding a husband for her very soul. Her identity depends on him. Now, the Disney version does not really vary from this--rather, it validates that Ariel's existence depends on the prince. We learn that that's O.K. I'm not happy with seeing the Andersen version as negative in this way, and I don't think Disney's rebellion theme redeems their dependence on the handsome prince to justify Ariel's transformation. I presented this poem by Judith Viorst as an alternate "take" on the story; I liked this one in high school, but (point being taken--don't change who you are, yadda yadda), it doesn't exactly satisfy me in its interpretation of the story:
For all the validating of identity for girls, it is an oversimplification--likely by design. So how to avoid that kind of oversimplification in classroom discussion? We discussed (briefly) ecofeminism, which is so over the top that it's really about use of language rather than perceived oppression, and so is fun for me. Briefly, briefly we discussed Matthew Arnold's "The Forsaken Merman." I think that comparison could have been fruitful on the religious front, with the contrast between nature/paganism and humanity/religion, and all of the various associations. But we wasted too much time talking about Disney. :P
My previous post about politics, perspectives, worldviews in the classroom was kind of poking (admittedly smug) fun at myself, though it did culminate in a very real frustration with what I see as the limitations and expectations of my teaching in my discipline. I worry about including texts that I don't like or with which I don't feel familiar enough to teach simply in order to represent a diversity of voices. I worry that when I include multi-ethnic selections or female authors as an afterthought, that I'm being a phony--or that I will come across that way. And that's a lot of baggage to add to the already considerable pressures of teaching.
And what about Catholicism? If to teach is my vocation (or part of my vocation), and I'm supposed to live my Faith, how do those things work together? As far as I can tell, it doesn't mean that I have to be nicey-nicey in the classroom (or on the blog, for that matter). I certainly DO have to engage with these questions, and this is a good format for me to do so. But what about subject matter of research and teaching? Surely I shouldn't shy away from the Christianity, though I can't really pursue the themes in more than superficial terms in my current position. And I have a problem with texts being taught simply for their Christian elements (usually in a simplified form)--like is done with the Chronicles of Narnia, which are typically embraced or rejected by scholars or teachers for their Christian elements. That is a bit simplistic on both sides.
With research, it is easier than teaching, I think. If we are selective in our research, well, that's part of being specialized. And I'm not sure how we can live the Faith through academic publishing, unless it means not publishing that thing I wrote about S & M in the films of a certain Spanish director. Yeah, that topic has been shelved permanently for a few years now.
My first surprise was when it was argued that the Disney version was better by virtue of its simplicity because without the immortality of the soul as a subtext, it would be more accessible to those who were atheist or agnostic, and so did not wish for their children to be exposed to difficult questions that would then require explanation. Also, the replay value of a text with such an unhappy ending--one that instructed rather than amusing--was called into question. This rather put a damper on the prospect of discussing Andersen's text on its own terms, but then, with such a popular version as a comparison, I guess the original was at a disadvantage. The essay argued that the happy ending does rather a disservice to the reader, creating expectations that wishes will always be fulfilled, and attributing misfortune to the will of a single malevolent force. We wound up discussing the issue of representation of parental authority, and why parents feel threatened when fictional characters disobey (and get away with it)--not an issue in the original. Another point was that it contains more relevant topics--like not to talk to strangers--than the immortality of the soul. I tried to compare the complexity of the two issues. Even if you're not interested in the immortality of the soul, you can still concede that the question is more complex, no? The issue of why the mermaid could not achieve both a soul and true love was raised--the dichotomy was seen as a false one.
I admit that I felt a bit at a disadvantage because the Andersen text was being charged with not being politically or socially relevant. Maybe that's why it was excluded from the anthology!! But then, I think it's a problem when the expectation is that the world should be fair, and fiction is expected either to create a safehaven where the world looks fair, or becomes more fair (just), or acknowledges its unfairness in a way that places blame or suggests a remedy. I never had a problem with the notion that toils and suffering could be fruitless, even as a child--except that her toils were not fruitless, as she was granted the opportunity to gain for herself an immortal soul. But if that consideration is alien to your worldview, it's rather difficult to entertain that as a concrete gain. So how to discuss texts with a Christian subtext in a secular university context?
I was particularly interested in the nature of love and the representation of marriage. Observe this passage:
“So I shall die,” said the little mermaid, “and as the foam of the sea I shall be driven about never again to hear the music of the waves, or to see the pretty flowers nor the red sun. Is there anything I can do to win an immortal soul?”
“No,” said the old woman, “unless a man were to love you so much that you were more to him than his father or mother; and if all his thoughts and all his love were fixed upon you, and the priest placed his right hand in yours, and he promised to be true to you here and hereafter, then his soul would glide into your body and you would obtain a share in the future happiness of mankind. He would give a soul to you and retain his own as well; but this can never happen. Your fish’s tail, which amongst us is considered so beautiful, is thought on earth to be quite ugly; they do not know any better, and they think it necessary to have two stout props, which they call legs, in order to be handsome.”
In order to have something to discuss, I did ask what a feminist perspective might be, but that was too easy, really. She is dehumanized--being non-human in the first place doesn't really matter, or rather, it does because the female protagonist is alienated from the patriarchal world from the very nature of her being (or non-being)--and depends on finding a husband for her very soul. Her identity depends on him. Now, the Disney version does not really vary from this--rather, it validates that Ariel's existence depends on the prince. We learn that that's O.K. I'm not happy with seeing the Andersen version as negative in this way, and I don't think Disney's rebellion theme redeems their dependence on the handsome prince to justify Ariel's transformation. I presented this poem by Judith Viorst as an alternate "take" on the story; I liked this one in high school, but (point being taken--don't change who you are, yadda yadda), it doesn't exactly satisfy me in its interpretation of the story:
A Mermaid's Tail (Tale)
I left the castle of my mer-king father,
Where seaweed gardens sway in pearly sand.
I left behind sweet sisters and kind waters
To seek a prince's love upon the land.
My tongue was payment for the witch's potion,
And never would I sing sea songs again;
My tail became two human legs to dance on,
But I would always dance with shards of pain.
I risked more than my life to make him love me.
The prince preferred another for his bride.
I always hate the ending to this story:
They lived together happily; I cried.
But I have some advice for modern mermaids
Who wish to save great sorrow and travail:
Don't give up who you are for love of princes.
He might have liked me better with my tail.
I left the castle of my mer-king father,
Where seaweed gardens sway in pearly sand.
I left behind sweet sisters and kind waters
To seek a prince's love upon the land.
My tongue was payment for the witch's potion,
And never would I sing sea songs again;
My tail became two human legs to dance on,
But I would always dance with shards of pain.
I risked more than my life to make him love me.
The prince preferred another for his bride.
I always hate the ending to this story:
They lived together happily; I cried.
But I have some advice for modern mermaids
Who wish to save great sorrow and travail:
Don't give up who you are for love of princes.
He might have liked me better with my tail.
For all the validating of identity for girls, it is an oversimplification--likely by design. So how to avoid that kind of oversimplification in classroom discussion? We discussed (briefly) ecofeminism, which is so over the top that it's really about use of language rather than perceived oppression, and so is fun for me. Briefly, briefly we discussed Matthew Arnold's "The Forsaken Merman." I think that comparison could have been fruitful on the religious front, with the contrast between nature/paganism and humanity/religion, and all of the various associations. But we wasted too much time talking about Disney. :P
My previous post about politics, perspectives, worldviews in the classroom was kind of poking (admittedly smug) fun at myself, though it did culminate in a very real frustration with what I see as the limitations and expectations of my teaching in my discipline. I worry about including texts that I don't like or with which I don't feel familiar enough to teach simply in order to represent a diversity of voices. I worry that when I include multi-ethnic selections or female authors as an afterthought, that I'm being a phony--or that I will come across that way. And that's a lot of baggage to add to the already considerable pressures of teaching.
And what about Catholicism? If to teach is my vocation (or part of my vocation), and I'm supposed to live my Faith, how do those things work together? As far as I can tell, it doesn't mean that I have to be nicey-nicey in the classroom (or on the blog, for that matter). I certainly DO have to engage with these questions, and this is a good format for me to do so. But what about subject matter of research and teaching? Surely I shouldn't shy away from the Christianity, though I can't really pursue the themes in more than superficial terms in my current position. And I have a problem with texts being taught simply for their Christian elements (usually in a simplified form)--like is done with the Chronicles of Narnia, which are typically embraced or rejected by scholars or teachers for their Christian elements. That is a bit simplistic on both sides.
With research, it is easier than teaching, I think. If we are selective in our research, well, that's part of being specialized. And I'm not sure how we can live the Faith through academic publishing, unless it means not publishing that thing I wrote about S & M in the films of a certain Spanish director. Yeah, that topic has been shelved permanently for a few years now.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
It's a funny thing about my last post. . .
They don't really have me pegged. At least, they don't think twice about any of what I mentioned in my previous post. I rather knew that. I'm speaking to my own recognition that I'm ideologically at odds with my discipline--and my own discomfort about representing perspectives that I'm supposed to believe (on a level), but don't. I had this interesting conversation with a student (yes, the same one) after class in which she admitted that she has difficulty getting outside of her own contemporary perspective when she reads about women, and love, and mer-people lacking souls. Then we continued to discuss representations of female complexity as a historical literary development. Go figure.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
They Have My Number. . .
I didn't do anything to announce my personal views. I try to avoid the kinds of discussions that reveal how at odds I am with the presumed politics of my discipline--the kind that my students expect from English profs and (especially) grad students. But they know--perhaps because of my avoidance. I can talk the talk, I assure you. I took ALL of those graduate classes & played along. Truthfully, I used to be better at the playing along than I am now. I find myself giving lip service to the theories, while my attitude is subtly dismissive. I can't teach Herland anymore because there's too much that I find disturbing. I can't say, theoretically, "Well, under what circumstances MIGHT it be good for the babies to be raised by someone other than their mothers?" without betraying that I can't really entertain this as a valid possibility except in the most extreme of cases, which is not what Charlotte Perkins Gilman had in mind.
So the other day, one student told me about a news story in which a child was suspended from school for playing cowboys & Indians, or cops & robbers, or some equally politically incorrect game and making a handgun motion with his hand. I incredulously asked where this occurred, and she replied that it was in Texas. Then she asked, "You would have felt better if I had said California, wouldn't you?" Yes, yes I would. How did she know? Not that I think Texas wins any kind of prize for just discipline of children, or leads the nation in healthy attitudes toward violence, but I would have been comforted to know that the incident was further removed from where I am now. Of course, a harsh backlash is usually the strategy to correct something that's seen as an extreme problem, and some administrator probably meant to nip "Texas gun culture" in the bud. But that's not the point. How did she have me pegged??
I gave admirable lip service to the notion that the canon should be deconstructed. I mean, I put in some good words for the traditional canon. But for the most part, I think I gave a pretty convincing account of why the canon (or the notion of a canon) should be questioned, and I talked about representing a multiplicity of voices to more accurately represent who was, indeed, writing. I don't think they believed me. Truthfully, I like models that acknowledge the influence of certain writers on others, though this is admittedly uneven representation. I do not believe in including mediocre works just to add diversity, or because they represent marginal opinions. I am all for diversity when it is appropriate, and I do see value in exploring cross-cultural perspectives, but not simply for the sake of doing so. There are times when we are all talking about the same things, albeit from different perspectives, and it's good to compare, as long as you acknowledge a basis for comparison--typically, Western Culture, since that's the tradition our discipline grows out of. I don't see why ANYONE should have to read Gloria Anzaldua. Or Kate Chopin, for that matter.
I brought in very inclusive picture books! But only the best examples. Okay, some of the environmentalist titles were bad. Really bad. But I've published in ecocriticism and children's lit, so I'm entitled.
Today, we were talking about fairy tales. I encouraged them to retell a story with emphasis on some "-ism." I guess this was inviting mockery. So one group took a proto-feminist tale with some ambiguities and complexities and suggested removing the complexities to make it a more blatantly feminist text. The female character was more self-sufficient, did the accounting for her father, opened her own business after being rejected in marriage. When she admired her beloved, she noted that he had a nice butt. Nice. So I blurted out, "You're objectifying him!" Well, one of my group members, English major, the same one who made the California crack (above), BURST out laughing--and was joined by the rest of the class. Including myself.
I can't help thinking that I'm actively working against what others in my department--er, discipline--are trying to accomplish. Not sure what that is or how I'm undermining it, but you know. . .
Earlier in the class, I argued with a student that to use "proletariat" to mean "peasantry" or "lower class" or "working class" was inappropriate because it invoked a specific theoretical perspective or methodology. You can't talk like Marx without invoking Marx in my class, especially when discussing "Beauty and the Beast" (the 18th Century version). Umm, yeah. So he argued that he just thought that Marx was pretty accurately representing history (see Literacy-chic's head explode), at which point I corrected him and said that Marx was using the term to describe his perception of history, but when you say "proletariat" it is not a neutral term, and does not merely invoke Marx but all who come after Marx.
They have so totally got me pegged. I don't know how I'll ever find an academic job in my field.
So the other day, one student told me about a news story in which a child was suspended from school for playing cowboys & Indians, or cops & robbers, or some equally politically incorrect game and making a handgun motion with his hand. I incredulously asked where this occurred, and she replied that it was in Texas. Then she asked, "You would have felt better if I had said California, wouldn't you?" Yes, yes I would. How did she know? Not that I think Texas wins any kind of prize for just discipline of children, or leads the nation in healthy attitudes toward violence, but I would have been comforted to know that the incident was further removed from where I am now. Of course, a harsh backlash is usually the strategy to correct something that's seen as an extreme problem, and some administrator probably meant to nip "Texas gun culture" in the bud. But that's not the point. How did she have me pegged??
I gave admirable lip service to the notion that the canon should be deconstructed. I mean, I put in some good words for the traditional canon. But for the most part, I think I gave a pretty convincing account of why the canon (or the notion of a canon) should be questioned, and I talked about representing a multiplicity of voices to more accurately represent who was, indeed, writing. I don't think they believed me. Truthfully, I like models that acknowledge the influence of certain writers on others, though this is admittedly uneven representation. I do not believe in including mediocre works just to add diversity, or because they represent marginal opinions. I am all for diversity when it is appropriate, and I do see value in exploring cross-cultural perspectives, but not simply for the sake of doing so. There are times when we are all talking about the same things, albeit from different perspectives, and it's good to compare, as long as you acknowledge a basis for comparison--typically, Western Culture, since that's the tradition our discipline grows out of. I don't see why ANYONE should have to read Gloria Anzaldua. Or Kate Chopin, for that matter.
I brought in very inclusive picture books! But only the best examples. Okay, some of the environmentalist titles were bad. Really bad. But I've published in ecocriticism and children's lit, so I'm entitled.
Today, we were talking about fairy tales. I encouraged them to retell a story with emphasis on some "-ism." I guess this was inviting mockery. So one group took a proto-feminist tale with some ambiguities and complexities and suggested removing the complexities to make it a more blatantly feminist text. The female character was more self-sufficient, did the accounting for her father, opened her own business after being rejected in marriage. When she admired her beloved, she noted that he had a nice butt. Nice. So I blurted out, "You're objectifying him!" Well, one of my group members, English major, the same one who made the California crack (above), BURST out laughing--and was joined by the rest of the class. Including myself.
I can't help thinking that I'm actively working against what others in my department--er, discipline--are trying to accomplish. Not sure what that is or how I'm undermining it, but you know. . .
Earlier in the class, I argued with a student that to use "proletariat" to mean "peasantry" or "lower class" or "working class" was inappropriate because it invoked a specific theoretical perspective or methodology. You can't talk like Marx without invoking Marx in my class, especially when discussing "Beauty and the Beast" (the 18th Century version). Umm, yeah. So he argued that he just thought that Marx was pretty accurately representing history (see Literacy-chic's head explode), at which point I corrected him and said that Marx was using the term to describe his perception of history, but when you say "proletariat" it is not a neutral term, and does not merely invoke Marx but all who come after Marx.
They have so totally got me pegged. I don't know how I'll ever find an academic job in my field.
Vertical and Verbal
My Chiclette, of course!! She is now standing up! At 8 1/2 months! I figure we're basically in a lot of trouble and she will be chasing her sister around very, very soon--much sooner than I like to think about! Doodle didn't walk until she was around 15 months, and then she RAN. This one has a jump on her, I think. . .
And for the other half of the equation, I think Chiclette is going to be an early talker. It took her a while to make many sounds at all--I think she was just looking around & listening & taking it all in. But for a while now (and I always try to have my suspicions confirmed before making any pronouncements about whether she has reached a milestone early. . .) she has been making more "focused-sounding" sounds--specifically, for the past week or two, when I pick her up or when she wants me, I hear "Mamamom." When Daddy walks by, a similar "Dadada." I even thought Brother got a "Buh" the other day. The Momma one has definitely been confirmed. It's too uncanny to be coincidence.
She claps, too! And waves! She sits or kneels up in her little play yard, affectionately called "The Cage" since her brother's day (or possibly before), and looks at one of us, opening and closing her little hand. She learned that trick when my mom was here a few weeks back, and there were many goodbyes. She sings now, too. Whenever she hears someone singing or hears music that she likes, she sings with a little, "Aaaaaaaaaaah." (I love that!!) Meanwhile, Doodle likes to sing along to "The Flight of the Valkyries," and dance and conduct! Such cuties!!
Of course, I didn't mention the teensy bit of separation-anxiety clinginess that results from my being gone a couple of hours a day to teach. She doesn't cry when I leave, just when I come back! And Doodle? Doesn't mind my leaving at all, so long as there's an adventure to be had. On school days, I ask if she wants to go "play," and she's excited. We've finally made a decision for the fall--she is ready for the 3-year-old class at my son's old Montessori school. Yay! :)
And for the other half of the equation, I think Chiclette is going to be an early talker. It took her a while to make many sounds at all--I think she was just looking around & listening & taking it all in. But for a while now (and I always try to have my suspicions confirmed before making any pronouncements about whether she has reached a milestone early. . .) she has been making more "focused-sounding" sounds--specifically, for the past week or two, when I pick her up or when she wants me, I hear "Mamamom." When Daddy walks by, a similar "Dadada." I even thought Brother got a "Buh" the other day. The Momma one has definitely been confirmed. It's too uncanny to be coincidence.
She claps, too! And waves! She sits or kneels up in her little play yard, affectionately called "The Cage" since her brother's day (or possibly before), and looks at one of us, opening and closing her little hand. She learned that trick when my mom was here a few weeks back, and there were many goodbyes. She sings now, too. Whenever she hears someone singing or hears music that she likes, she sings with a little, "Aaaaaaaaaaah." (I love that!!) Meanwhile, Doodle likes to sing along to "The Flight of the Valkyries," and dance and conduct! Such cuties!!
Of course, I didn't mention the teensy bit of separation-anxiety clinginess that results from my being gone a couple of hours a day to teach. She doesn't cry when I leave, just when I come back! And Doodle? Doesn't mind my leaving at all, so long as there's an adventure to be had. On school days, I ask if she wants to go "play," and she's excited. We've finally made a decision for the fall--she is ready for the 3-year-old class at my son's old Montessori school. Yay! :)
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Okay, so I discovered Etsy. . .
. . . Courtesy of the Ottobre Group I joined on Yahoo! Am I the last person in the world to hear of this or is it a well-kept secret for those in the know? At any rate, it looks like there's some very cool stuff. Looks more trustworthy and reliable than eBay--that is, you seem to know more up front, and there's less of a sense that someone is out to cheat you. The merchants set their own prices--no "auction"--and the items are largely (completely?) hand made. Neat! I bought each of my girls some non-slip hair-bow clippies! You can see them here and here.
Meanwhile, I cut Doodle's hair--short. I was just trying to trim the whispies!! She kind of looks like Haley Mills in The Parent Trap. . . It's cute, and still kind of flippy, but I miss the whispy curls.
Meanwhile, I cut Doodle's hair--short. I was just trying to trim the whispies!! She kind of looks like Haley Mills in The Parent Trap. . . It's cute, and still kind of flippy, but I miss the whispy curls.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Not a Poem
There isn't a time
when I'm away from you
that I don't think about you in some way--
Some thing that I want to say to you,
some thing we could do if you were here.
Things have grown so complex over time--
there is an intricate balance
to our lives
that we upset
time and time again
and almost maintain
for precious seconds at a time.
So many variables,
so many variables,
so many, many quirks in a day of turning
again and again to the same tasks, but still together.
And you know when I am angry
with you
and you are angry
with me,
the largeness of my self-righteousness
shrinks
to
pain
and
my anger
melts to sadness
as I try to think of ways
to make it right again.
There is an anger in you
that I think is always with you
that I can't soothe
with words or touch,
that lurks behind your eyes
and in the corners of your mouth
that haunts your eyebrows, waiting
waiting, waiting. . .
Hopping
from object to object
mutating,
waiting, waiting, waiting. . .
And I?
I have my indignation.
I have my notion
of how things ought to be
but aren't
and probably never could be.
And if in your anger I don't perceive
the qualities that made me love you,
neither in my hurtful pride
do I endear myself to you.
So we separate
for a few hours,
dwelling, perhaps, in things said
perhaps meant,
perhaps meant to hurt with a grain of truth.
I would take the hurt and keep the truth
before seeing you again.
If I could simplify an hour
to remember, with you,
how being with you
was an escape from the intricacies
that we otherwise had to balance,
negotiations
we would rather not perform,
if I could melt
your anger into peace
and share a quiet time with you alone,
I would.
when I'm away from you
that I don't think about you in some way--
Some thing that I want to say to you,
some thing we could do if you were here.
Things have grown so complex over time--
there is an intricate balance
to our lives
that we upset
time and time again
and almost maintain
for precious seconds at a time.
So many variables,
so many variables,
so many, many quirks in a day of turning
again and again to the same tasks, but still together.
And you know when I am angry
with you
and you are angry
with me,
the largeness of my self-righteousness
shrinks
to
pain
and
my anger
melts to sadness
as I try to think of ways
to make it right again.
There is an anger in you
that I think is always with you
that I can't soothe
with words or touch,
that lurks behind your eyes
and in the corners of your mouth
that haunts your eyebrows, waiting
waiting, waiting. . .
Hopping
from object to object
mutating,
waiting, waiting, waiting. . .
And I?
I have my indignation.
I have my notion
of how things ought to be
but aren't
and probably never could be.
And if in your anger I don't perceive
the qualities that made me love you,
neither in my hurtful pride
do I endear myself to you.
So we separate
for a few hours,
dwelling, perhaps, in things said
perhaps meant,
perhaps meant to hurt with a grain of truth.
I would take the hurt and keep the truth
before seeing you again.
If I could simplify an hour
to remember, with you,
how being with you
was an escape from the intricacies
that we otherwise had to balance,
negotiations
we would rather not perform,
if I could melt
your anger into peace
and share a quiet time with you alone,
I would.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Chicken Dress!!
I finished it last night, and Doodle wore it to Mass this morning. Unfortunately, she wasn't feeling good and developed a fever midway through Mass, so her cute exterior concealed a crummy-feeling interior. Poor Doodle!
Less anonymous pics are on the family blog, here!
NOTE: I wanted to add a note about the family blog--I keep pictures of my daughters fairly closely guarded online, so the family blog (above) is not open to the public--sorry for that! BUt thanks for visiting and looking at my version of this very cute dress! :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)