Fruit in my dessert

nothing to do with math

Seriously? I frequently read articles that make me upset or make me want to at least write a blog post, but then, more often than not, I don't write something, mostly because I'm afraid of sounding like the opinionated, judgmental person that I am, and it would take too long to write something that sounds well written and well thought out, and even though only two people read this blog, I want to sound good, and I don't want to be judged back. Well, today, I'm writing.

Yesterday, the New York Times had an article in the Sunday Style section (perhaps the only plus I'll give it is that it was in the Styles section), called The New Math on Campus: When women outnumber men at a college, dating culture is skewed. The source of this problem, it seems, is simple: "women tend to have higher grades; men tend to drop out in disproportionate numbers; and female enrollment skews higher among older students, low-income students, and black and Hispanic students." And kudos to the (male) reporter of the story for so respectfully recognizing the upside to this for a moment: "In terms of academic advancement, this is hardly the worst news for women — hoist a mug for female achievement. And certainly, women are primarily in college not because they are looking for men, but because they want to earn a degree." But, at least for the women in this article, that last statement doesn't appear to hold true.

The article goes on to quote young women, academically successful women, stating obvious things like how, in addition to outnumbering the men, so many of the men available are not worthy, so the pool from which to choose is actually even smaller than it seems. The following quote was the clincher for me:

“A lot of my friends will meet someone and go home for the night and just hope for the best the next morning,” Ms. Lynch said. “They’ll text them and say: ‘I had a great time. Want to hang out next week?’ And they don’t respond.”

Even worse, “Girls feel pressured to do more than they’re comfortable with, to lock it down,” Ms. Lynch said.

As for a man’s cheating, “that’s a thing that girls let slide, because you have to,” said Emily Kennard, a junior at North Carolina. “If you don’t let it slide, you don’t have a boyfriend.”

Really? Are we still here? Are we still, as a species, more worried about finding the right guy - at the young age of 18 - and so fearful that we won't that we're willing to be quoted in the New York Times saying things like this? Is this only a Western idea? And can we really blame men for keeping us down and holding us back and keeping that glass ceiling in place when we take something like being the majority of college educated people in this country and turn it into a weakness? Are most women still going to college with the ultimate goal of finding their husband and not getting an education and a degree? Can we draw a line between these attitudes and a future generation of embarrassed wives a la Sanford, Edwards, Woods, and countless, nameless others? Or is that going too far? When and how are we going to teach women to respect and worry about themselves as much as and more than the way we do about men and the love and affection we may or may not receive from them?

I know my questions aren't all really questions, but it's the only way I could get some of this out without losing my mind. And I am fully aware that in today's world I am considered one of the very luckiest of women, with a husband (who I did not meet in college) who makes the self-respect thing easier than most, with a family (his and mine) who (mostly) consider us equals, and support our "shared parenting" lifestyle, but when is that not going to be considered lucky?

I'm going to go do my best to do my part...raising a white male to know and understand that he is going to be given privileges because of his race and his gender for the rest of his life, but he must know why and to do his part to make that not the future for his kids or theirs. And, if #2 is a girl, the work will likely be harder, but I'll start by hoping she never feels compelled to be part of (or worse, write) an article like this.

fuzzy math

1. Me = too hard on Me

2. B = too hard on B

3. Me = too hard on B

4. B = NOT hard on Me

Would like to solve all four equations, but trying to change #4 to look more like #3 has proved wholly ineffective. I really need to figure out the key to changing the #3 (and #2 and #1, and yes, in that order) so they all look like #4. Luckily, I don't think H figures (directly) into these equations yet.

And, for the record, this post has been in my head for a long time. This is not a current current event.

not to brag

I don't want to make anyone jealous or jinx myself, but tonight was the second night in a row that H allowed me to participate in story time before bed. He almost cuddled up next to me on the couch this morning while we "read" his Playmobil catalog together too.

Overanalyzer that I am, I'm trying to figure out why and to what I can attribute this behavior. Was it the extra work hours I put in this week that kept me away from him for more time than usuaul? The pre-preschool switch in the routine? I might attribute tonight to the fact that - for the first time ever - I bought him a book in the store just because he asked for it...for no reason or occasion, and even though I knew it was way more money there than online or in the library. Someone left a children's book on top of the adult paperbacks near the front of the store and it happened to have H's name in the title, so I picked it up and read it to myself and thought it was lovely. H then asked that I read it to him and he sat rapt with attention, not forcing me to turn the pages more quickly or grabbing the book for himself or even moving at all. And, then when I finished, he asked me to read it again. It was time to go, I said (we were on our way out when the book caught my eye in the first place). And, then, I don't know what came over me, but I said, "do you want to buy this book?" At first, he looked at me with a very confused expression, and a moment later, "I want to buy it." After asking B if that was a dumb idea and him saying probably (because he knows how I feel about these things, not because of his own opinion on the matter), and H saying again, "I want to buy it," this time with a bit more insistence, I walked us over to the cashier and bought the book and handed it to H. After saying "please," to mean thank you and then saying, "thank you," he said, "I hold the book," very proudly, and it was all worth it. And I've almost convinced myself that it was okay to buy a 2-year-old a book that is essentially about a boy liking a girl in his class. At least, for now, H likes me enough to let me read it to him.

Bandaid ripping

So H and B survived H's first day of preschool. They encouraged B to stay in the room (along with parents and caregivers of the other new kids in the class) and I think it may have had the opposite of the intended effect. H knew B was there and obviously wanted to play with his BFF, so B wound up staying in there the whole time, engaging, not engaging, explaining, and trying to get H to engage with the rest of the class.

There was also a sock incident. In this facility, it's no shoes allowed (super plush carpet in the gym and nice padded wood flooring in the classroom), which I love, but it is also a no sock facility (which I don't) to prevent kids from slipping. During the early part of class when B was in the room but on the side, one of the teachers attempted to take H's socks off and it was the straw that broke H for the remainder of the session. And it nearly killed B to watch the sadness that ensued, as short lived as it may have been. My poor boys. They were both definitely exhausted by the end of the two hours, perhaps B more so than H. Other parents had been able to leave, while some were in and out (potentially even more confusing for the children), but it was a mixed bag of a day. Lucky for them both, B took them to a diner for grilled cheeses to recover before nap time.

When H and I talked about it later, he said "I go to school today. My daddy stay in there." He knew that was not the goal, but seemed to be perfectly okay with it.

Having the benefit of B's experience behind me, when I took H on Thursday, in addition to all the talk in the morning about how it was going to go and how mommy was going to wait outside in case he needed me, I decided that if they would let me, we would do the rip-the-Bandaid-off version of separation instead. And lucky for me, this was actually the plan for day 2. All the caregivers that were in the room at the start of class were asked to leave about 10 minutes in. H had started playing at a table with me about 3 feet away and reached out to me as if his feet (in facility-approved/suggested slippers) were glued to the floor but he needed to touch me. Minutes later he was between my legs. I alternated between telling him the plan and giving him encouragement to play with comforting him by just sitting there with him.

At 10 minutes, someone came over, I said my brief goodbyes and they peeled him out of my arms crying. There were a good four or five kids doing the same. We went out in the waiting area and, well, we waited. A few minutes later, another mom came out (she had arrived late) and said no one was crying anymore. About 5 or 6 times during the two hours, either a mom who had gone in to check or one of the teachers would come out and give an update and by all accounts, H was engaged, playing, even "doing perfect" by one mom's account. I got the thumbs up later from another teacher during a transition. I was relieved and proud (which felt weird to be, but I was).

The bonus to the day was meeting a new potential mommy friend, whose son was also having some anxiety, as was she. She's expecting her second as well and we even share an OB. Did I mention she works in early childhood so we got to talk about all of our strong opinions about what these programs should and should not look like and she told me of another quite reputable program from which she and another mother there had pulled their kids a few weeks earlier.

At the end of the two hours, we went in to the little pick-up/transition area and the kids came out to see us. H was happy to see me, but I wouldn't say he was over the top about it. He told me how he went on the bars (in the gym) and then after about 30 seconds, got down and went over to play with some trucks. I spoke with two of the teachers (they initiated - how nice) who told me some specifics of the day's activities and how well H did in terms of being engaged with the class the whole time - even more engaged than he had been during the semester where the parents were there the whole time. Rock on, H!

I actually had to coax him into getting ready to leave, and as we were putting coats on, he suggested that "Mommy go out there" as he pointed out the window, and I think he intended to stay. I left feeling good about the program, good about H being ready for it, excited to meet a potential friend, and thinking that maybe I could get things done during those two hours every week - even if that meant successfully eating a pain au chocolat and hot chocolate while reading...hmmm.

We "tour" (with H) the one preschool we have applied to for the fall, on Monday. Stay tuned.

Big day tomorrow

Tomorrow is H's first day of pre-preschool. This is my name for it since it's not technically preschool, but rather a preschool alternative (read: cheaper, noncompetitive admission, not accredited by anyone). It's also "pre" because he's only 2, but we thought it might be a good idea to get him in a routine like this BEFORE #2 shows up. It's at a place where he has been taking a class with B for a couple of months with all of the same "coaches" (although 2 of 6 are leaving to pursue their "real" passions - one to play the leading role in the traveling Broadway production of Footloose) and much of the same curriculum/routine. This will be 2 hours instead of 90 minutes, and oh yeah, neither of us will be there with him. We're DROPPING HIM OFF.

I've only been to the class here with him once and while I did like it, I had my bones to pick (really? you ask). B really enjoys it with him and H asks to go to "gym class" often (it's half gym and half art/snack/story/open play/singing). It's what they call a gradual separation program which means the parent/caregiver sticks around on the first day to whatever extent necessary - either in the classroom sitting in a chair on the edge not engaging or in the building (per the not-a-preschool's request), and then it goes how it goes from there. Some children separate very quickly, others not as quickly, and some not at all. There are also good days, bad days, etc.

Since tomorrow is B's day with H and the class is at the same time as his non-drop-off class has been, we decided B is going to take him and I'm just going to go to work as I normally would. We also think that he'll have an easier time separating from one of us vs. two. I'm mostly okay with not being there on the first day and actually think the lack of my presence (and my best friend, Anxiety) will make the transition go more smoothly. I'm excited for H, but nervous for him too. B thinks it's going to be cake, bye, bye, see ya later. I'm not so convinced. I hope H is. He's had chunks of time away from us with sitters and family, but we've never dropped him off anywhere that wasn't someone else's home. I get to go on Thursday and I'm kind of excited for that, and given how depressingly easily he's been separating from me lately (even when I don't want to be), maybe that will go even more smoothly...or not. I can picture me with tears because he refuses to hug or kiss me goodbye.

I'm a little emotional about it all (and I'll try not to blame the pregnancy for that) and what it means in terms of how old he is and how fast it's all going, but I feel good about it, if only a tiny bit scared the "coaches" won't pay enough attention to him, or worse, if they're mean to him. If that happens, well, then someone's going to need to "separate" me from them. I don't understand why people think I'm always ready for a fight!??!

Here's hoping it's the best it can be! Now, for the important question, what's he going to wear?

Counting the ways

Seriously. I don't know what I did to deserve you, but thank you for quietly being patient with me - over and over again. Today's topic: window coverings. You listened, looked, and responded to countless "if, then" scenarios over two different sittings in an effort to help me try to figure out which window coverings will be best when you don't really care very much which one gets chosen. And, somehow, you managed to keep a straight face when the final decision was to order several swatches of the version you would not have chosen in the first place. You know what not to say and how to not say it and how to keep me sane while I'm likely driving you insane, but you somehow stick with me, far after I'm done sticking with myself.

And, to cap it off, you suggested and made tea - with just the right amount of honey - for me at the start of our evening and delivered three cookies when I asked for one or two at the end, just because.

Thank you.

Yoga thoughts

So, when I wasn't just "being" during Savasana at the end of yoga class tonight - my first class in months and my first during this pregnancy, I had some time to be alone with my thoughts and here's some of what came to mind:

1. Oh my goodness, there is a baby in there. There is just so much less time as the mom of a toddler to spend thinking about the baby inside. I mean I think about it, as in, I shouldn't eat a tuna sandwich - again, or I wish I could have some coffee, or be careful H, you're kicking me in the belly and there's a baby in there, or my aching back, there's a baby...you get the point. But there's been no being "one" with the baby. Not to say I spent much time meditating or bonding with H in utero, but I think I'd be willing to pay for the yoga classes this time just to spend some time alone with the baby.

2. I should really blog more, maybe about this.

3. I wonder if this is the most comfortable way for me to be laying down.

4. It's probably not sanitary for me to be laying my head down on this blanket.

5. I learned a lot during my last pregnancy (and the first, which ended in an early-ish miscarriage) about the lack of control that comes with parenting and I really think it's helped me be a more calm parent and person. I have no illusions about being in a Zen state as a mother or person (and yes, I know mothers ARE people, but you know what I mean), but I do feel like the roller coaster of my pregnancy with H, with supportive aids from the Hypnobirthing course that I took (but did not fully "use" with my breech-caused-c-section), really put the whole, "you just never know what's going to happen or when or how and you can't do anything about most of it" thing into perspective for me. It's not a new revelation for me, but I've been thinking about it more during this pregnancy. I'm grateful for the early hospital visits, the preterm labor, the hospital stay, the bed rest, and yes, even the c-section. I think in some small way it all helps me be a better mom to H, and hopefully a better person overall. At least some of the time.

6. My back hurts.

He's just not that into you (or rather, me)

I'm sure I've posted about this before...before he had words. Before he could say, "I want mommy go out there," as he steps into the hallway and points toward the living room. It has long been a ritual in our house for B to do the bedtime thing. This started when I was home full-time and counted the minutes until his arrival at the front door, feeling like a 1950s cliche, handing off the baby with more enthusiasm than I thought I could muster. We would take turns of course, and whenever B would travel - which was and is fairly frequently - I would do the whole bedtime thing. And many nights we would share it and use the time to catch up with each other a little as well.

Well, the time has come when post-bath, H tells me to "go out there" so he and daddy can read their story and daddy can put him to bed. We've come close to forcing the issue on a night or two when mommy has needed some H love, but don't get very far before something clicks in my brain telling me that I should be at least partially grateful: for this time to myself and for the relationship H and B have. I have many friends who have the opposite issue where they can't get the child to go with daddy and they feel trapped by that (as would I). When I'm feeling extra insecure I do "blame" it on the fact that B will indulge him more at bedtime than I will in terms of extra moments of interaction before it's time to say goodnight, but I know if that's part of the story, it's likely a small part.

So, here I sit, blogging freely, and I'm grateful, but still a little sad (at least for the moment) that I'm not raising a "momma's boy" as my friend who has the same "issue" said to me the other day. At least for the moment.

Teaching Teachers to Teach

B sent me this interesting op-ed in Sunday's NY Times about what teacher education programs should look like. I am not sure many people would disagree with the premise - I certainly don't - but implementation is the key and there's a lot of there there. Having gone through a teacher preparation program at an institution that definitely looked down its nose at teaching and that got half of this right and half of this wrong, I'm not as hopeful as I want to be at our collective ability and initiative to make this happen and quickly enough. How do we do it? Who is going to step up and take this challenge?

Just words

A couple of weeks ago, we finally succumbed to the pressures of this big, bad city and filled out our first (of one, so far) preschool application for H for next fall. We know we're "behind," we know it might be "too late for the good ones," and we know he might be doomed to a life in public school with all those "other" kids, but we know his mom made it through that way - not here, but that's just a detail, right?

I have been toeing the line between trying to understand how involved in the insane process one needs to be to not totally mess up her kid's educational chances for the rest of his (New York) life, and trying to pretend we can do it here like we would do it anywhere else - plus a few K here and there. I have only three requirements in this whole process: (1) we must not be forced to home school him because he doesn't get in anywhere, and (2) no co-ops. Half or more of the reason I believe preschool is a must for our family is the much needed separation and alleviation of responsibility for us, the parents. (3) This may be obvious, but I want ALL of the adults in the room with him at all times to be CARING, LOVING adults.

Okay, let's face it, you know and I know I have WAY more than three requirements, but if I start talking about educational philosophy and what I think H actually needs (and DOESN'T need) from a preschool experience, I'll have nothing to talk about when we see each other for coffee or dinner, or when I write the book about it. Besides, this post is about the application we filled out.

The one question they asked on the application that required real thought was what words we would use to describe our child. It didn't say how many words, but we went with 12, given the line length and assumed need for detail with brevity. I, of course, made B come up with his own list and it turned out that our first word was the same - the rest were not, so we went with a combination. Here's what we came up with:

curious, energetic, loving, social, observant, funny, brave, resourceful, kind, expressive, creative, thoughtful

It was challenging in a number of overthinking-it kind of ways, but it was also kind of fun.

We did get invited to the open house in January after they received our application, so I guess that means we didn't "fail" the application part, but I'm pretty sure everyone gets invited to the open house.

In the meantime, we're signing up for a "pre-school alternative" (read: not licensed as a preschool, half the cost or so, but still too much) for two mornings a week (2 hours/day) starting in January. And, as with so much of parenting, I'm excited and devastated about this new development.