New semester

Our semester began last week. I am looking forward to my classes, though I can't tell if it is just that the magic of the new semester hasn't worn off yet. I love when a new semester starts. All those exciting readings, new shiny books, brand new office supplies, a datebook that is organized and not yet packed to capacity. Let's see what I think in 5 weeks...

I had a professional disagreement with one of my professors already. Smallcity is, appropriately, a small city. Back in my previous life, this professor and I had a run-in when we both were involved in a contentious time in the local schools. He and I were not entirely on the same page, though my big issue was that he was a bit of an ass when dealing with it.

Now, I am taking his course. The issue (which was two years ago, mind you) came up on the first day of class. He shared his opinion, which I think was wrong. So I told him. In front of the other 7 students. Yeah, we'll see what I think in 5 weeks.

Apparently, in honor of the new semester, Bigfella has decided to:

a. cure his thrush. it disappeared from my nipples too.
b. continue teething at a rate that rivals glacier formation.
c. fall and crack his forehead open on Dyke Two's metal office door.
d. sleep through the night. (ssshhhhhhhh, we don't want to jinx this one.)

Apparently, in honor of the new semester, I have decided to:

a. forget my pump horns at home on Tuesday.
b. forget my cooler icepacks at home on Wednesday.
c. finally cut all dairy out of my diet again
d. write an incredibly boring blog entry.

Seriously, why are you still reading this?

I am way too lazy...

...to be poor.

Seriously. That myth about poor people being lazy. From watching the poor folks in our neighborhood, poor people are some of the hardest working people I know. Our handyman is currently homeless, living at the Salvation Army. He is always working at hard, manual labor. He digs trenches, mulched a 15 foot by 15 foot patch of our yard in 90 minutes, hauls junk all over town on his bicycle, and is always clean, neat and presentable. All while living in a homeless shelter.

I watch moms with little kids dragging their laundry five blocks uphill to the laundromat. I see people waiting to catch the bus, and then see them 2 hours later, just arriving at work. I see families waiting outside the pediatrician's office for their ride home.

Seriously, I could never be poor. Our washer broke last year. The dirty clothes sat until the repairman got there three days later. We were too lazy to even drive to the laundromat. When my car breaks down, there is no way I would get up two hours early to take the bus to school. I bitch about having to park at a remote parking lot and take the bus across campus.

I'm not sure where this myth about poor people being lazy came from. The poor folks I know work hard. Dyke Two's mother worked as a domestic her whole life. Again, we are far too lazy for work like that. We can't wait to hire a cleaning lady as soon as I am working again. Dyke Two made me promise that we'll hire a white woman...

(I'm not even going to try to explain the convoluted thought process that made this post relevant to anything. It had something to do with those embryos that were rescued from New Orleans while poor folks were still stranded and without food....)

My days are numbered...

Since classes ended in December, Bigfella has remained going to daycare when he's been healthy. The healthy days have been sparse this month, but on the days he goes to daycare, I have had hours stretching luxuriously in front of me.

But don't worry--I haven't let my brain completely rot. I have spent that time doing research. Important research like watching "The View" each morning. Yesterday, (and I can't even believe I am saying this) Elisabeth Hasselbeck said something important. Yes, Elisabeth Hasselbeck the formula spokeswoman, social conservative, Bush-supporting talk show host said something important about gender roles. I tried to find the video clip to post, but I couldn't locate it on line.

Basically, she was watching her daughter Grace play at the park, and realized that she was not climbing and running as much as she did at home. So, she looked at Grace's jeans, and compared them to a pair of boys' jeans in the same size. The boys' jeans were looser, stretchier, and had a higher rise. So, and this is why I have some respect for the woman, she bought Gracie boy's jeans. As she said, she didn't want her daughter's activities constricted or dictated by her clothing.

So, while we are not currently raising a daughter, this little example of the subtle shaping of girlhood by commerce sticks with me. While we have always looked for clothing for Bigfella that is not actively encoding gender roles into him, we have only looked to avoid sports symbols, tools and construction equipment. We had always assumed that our theoretical daughter would be similarly dressed: no overload of pink, no frills, no toddler belly shirts, no rhinestones. It had never dawned on me that the cut of the clothing would be different.

It really made me stop and think about how pervasive gender coding is, and how subtle some of it actually is...

No wonder I'm tired...

I can't even remember if I mentioned it before, but, thanks to 3 weeks of diarrhea and/or vomiting, Bigfella lost weight throughout the month of December. At his 9 month appointment at the end of November, he weighed 21 pounds, 7 ounces. December 4 he weighed in at 22 pounds, 1 ounce. December 28th, he weighed 21 pounds, 2 ounces. I guess all that puking and crapping took its toll. Since then, he has been nursing and eating like a bottomless pit. He will literally nurse all day if I let him. And the boy can eat: crackers, chicken, rice, broccoli, rice cakes. He shovels them down and kicks his feet in happiness. His favorite meal is a handful of Puffins cereal (the original kind, thankyouverymuch) and chunks of banana. The only way to make the meal more enjoyable is if I am seated topless next to him and he can lean over between bites and do a quick kegstand. For the last two weeks, my nipples have felt like we were back in the newborn days. The thrush probably didn't help much, and neither did the teething.

But, I digress. We were at the doctor on Monday. Bigfella's ears were clear--finally! We got a prescription for Nystatin for the thrush. And, we had an official weighin: 22 pounds 12 ounces. The boy gained 1 pound 10 ounces in 10 days.

No wonder I felt like we time warped back to the newborn stage...

All is Quiet on New Year's Day

Of course, 2007 starts with us planning to get to the gym more, and restaurants less, to be more organized and have less chaos of dirty laundry, misplaced shoes and ignored budgets, but, really, we've achieved the things we truly want...

Last night, we had a little date night at home. I put Bigfella down for bed a little early while Dyke Two picked up take out from our favorite Italian place. I came downstairs to a nicely set table, candlelight, a bottle of red wine, and a delicious dessert. We watched a movie on HBO and headed up to bed about 11. We watched the ball drop on the bedroom TV, and toasted in 2007 with water in wineglasses (I drank the entirety of the bottle of red wine, so the champagne in the fridge was overkill by then). Bigfella woke up at 12:05 and came in to bed with us.

All three of us snuggled together, listening to Bigfella sigh and gulp as he nursed. As it got quieter (here in the Holler the New Year begins with gunshots and police sirens...) it began to rain. The rainfall just made our bed cozier and more inviting.

There was no place I would have rather been to usher in 2007: I was home, surrounded by love and tranquility. A full bed, a full heart...

...May all of you who are still seeking your full homes and hearts find that same peace, tranquility and love in the new year. May you usher in 2008 with all your dreams fulfilled.