lawmummy

No resolutions this year. Too maddening. I always break them, so I try to think up ones that I won’t break. And then I still break them.

So this year, a little different. I was thinking about all of the good things that I wish for my girls, and for the world, generally, and thought that the Dixie Chicks summed it up kind of nicely in their song, “I Hope” performed during Shelter From The Storm Hurricane Relief telethon. It’s written by the Chicks themselves (Emily Robison, Martie Maguire and Natalie Maines) and Keb Mo (you can visit the Chicks’ web site here to find out where you can download the song; proceeds benefit victims of Hurricane Katrina):

Sunday morning, I heard the preacher say
Thou shall not kill
I don’t wanna hear nothing else, about killing
And that it’s God’s will

Our children are watching us
They put their trust in us
They’re gonna be like us
So let’s learn from our history
And do it differently
I hope
For more love, more joy and laughter
I hope
We’ll have more than we’ll ever need
I hope
We’ll have more happy ever after
I hope
We can all live more fearlessly
And we can lose all the pain and misery
I hope
I hope

Oh Rosie, her man he gets too rough
That all she can say, is he’s a good man
He don’t mean no harm
He was just brought up that way

But our children are watching us
They put their trust in us
They’re gonna be like us
It’s okay for us to disagree
We can work it out lovingly
I hope
More love, more joy and laughter
I hope
You’ll have more than you’ll ever need
I hope
You’ll have more happy ever after
I hope
You can all live more fearlessly
And you can lose all your pain and misery
I hope
I hope

There must be a way to change what’s going on
No I don’t have all the answers
I hope
For more love, more joy and laughter
I hope
You’ll have more than you’ll ever need
I hope
There’ll be more happy ever after
I hope
We can all live more fearlessly
And we can lose all our pain and misery
I hope
I hope
I hope
I hope
I hope

So, I wish for all of you lots of love, joy and laughter for the coming year. Kiss your children (and your pets!) and let them know that you love them.

And to those of you who have families in the military - let’s hope that this is the year that this madness ends and our loved ones come home.

I miss you, T. Be safe.

Peace. And here’s hoping that each of you have a terrific 2006 - may it be the best ever.

Following up on my prior post about shopping for children, I have another tip to add “thanks” to my friend, Suzanne:

If there isn’t an off button on the toy, carefully put it back on the shelf and walk away.

A couple of years ago, I had a spat, of sorts, with the mother of one of my good friends. I wanted to plan a shower for my good friend - as did her mother. I suggested one plan, she suggested another. They were worlds apart. Her idea was to have a friends and family shower at a local South Philly Italian restaurant, complete with shower-type games. My idea was to have a shower at the Union League (a private club) with open bar, the works, very much in keeping with my friend’s style. My friend’s mother didn’t feel that some of her (meaning the mother) friends would feel comfortable driving into town and suggested that the League might be a little “much” for them. I understood, and suggested, as a compromise that we hold two showers - one for family and friends of family hosted by my friend’s mom and one for my friend’s immediate friends hosted by me. This was similar to what my mom did - I had one shower in NC with my friends from high school and my mom’s friends hosted by my mom. We had traditional Southern shower-food and played silly games. I had another shower in Philly (which my mom came up from NC for) with my local friends and it was much more of a social - beer and finger foods. I enjoyed both tremendously. However, that wasn’t the case with my friend’s shower. My friend’s mother was offended by the idea of two showers and burst into tears. To keep the peace, we had one shower, at the restaurant in South Philly. It was awkward and I wasn’t happy about it. I remembered thinking that it didn’t make sense to me that anyone would turn down a party for their child - I had always thought that if folks wanted to throw parties for my girls, they were welcome to. I say, the more, the merrier.

I thought about that tonight when I went to pick up my girls from my friends’ house. I actually heard Katie crying through the door that she didn’t want to go home. And I have to admit, far from being a little sad, I was quite happy. You see, my friends, who are also the godmothers of my youngest daughter, are smitten with my daughters - and vice versa. Katie and Amy both light up around the both of them - Katie constantly wants to call Suzanne at work and visit Madeline at the office. It’s very cool that they have that kind of relationship.

I don’t understand how any parent - whether a parent of little kids or big kids - would want to restrict their children’s worlds to be so small that as a parent, he or she feels solely responsible for their child’s happiness. I am so grateful to know that my children are loved by so many folks - and that my children know that they are loved by so many folks.

It is, I am convinced, the best circumstances to raise a child. I know Hillary Clinton was widely mocked for her “It Takes a Village” child-rearing theories, but I think that she was onto something. Children are little sponges. Their views of the world revolve primarily around how they are treated - and what better way to reinforce self esteem, self worth and empathy than knowing that they are appreciated and loved?

My little girls are growing up to be wonderful little people. And I know I can’t take all of the credit for it. They have a whole collection of grandparents, aunts, uncles, neighbors and friends who love them and are helping to shape their little minds everyday. And for that, I am glad. That’s what the world needs more of.

The recent “honor” killings in Pakistan horrify me.

As a mother, I cannot imagine witnessing the slayings of my girls by my own husband for any reason - including some warped view of honor. And I understand, from reading the article, that apparently the mother was scared of being killed herself. And this I don’t get either. Because, and, of course it’s easy for me to say as I sit in the comfort of my own home, the girls in bed, with no fears for my own safety or their own, I would like to think that if any harm were threatened to my girls, no matter where it came from, that I wouldn’t care about my own safety. I would do everything that I could to stop it - even if that meant putting my own life in jeopardy.

It’s easy to say what I would have done - because I didn’t grow up that way. But I do know what it’s like to live in fear, there are things that I have experienced and witnessed that have definitely shaped who I am today and how I raised my girls. And maybe, somewhere along the way in my blog, I’ll post about them. But for now, I’ll just say that I simply do not understand how a woman, any woman, of any religion, of any ethnicity, of any socio-economic status can witness the murders of her children and just stand there.

Yes, that’s harsh. And yes, it’s judgmental. And I stand by it.

As for the very idea of “honor” killings, the thing is, it is wrong and it is not, in any way, condoned by Islam - nor is any of this degradation of women generally. My brother-in-law is Muslim. He married an Egyptian woman who is Muslim - and her family is Muslim. They both now live in Jordan (a Muslim country) where they are raising their three children, two of which are girls. My sister-in-law is extremely well educated (Princeton) and both of her girls are in school - there is nothing in Islam, so far as I know, that demands that women stay home and remain uneducated. My brother-in-law does not beat his wife or his children. My sister-in-law does not wear a burka.

Why have we distorted religion to such a degree that we allow it to justify the mistreatment of others?

And this is not restricted to Islam. Or Buddhism. Or Catholicism. Or Mormonism. I am Southern Baptist originally (I now attend an Episcopal church) and my religion professor used to tell us about the women she ministered to at the battered women’s shelter, who were beaten by their husbands who quoted the book of Hosea as they did it. Nice.

I wish women all over the world were empowered enough to say that this sort of thing is not allowed - honor killings and beatings and female circumcision and other mistreatment. We owe it to our daughters to bring them up in an environment where they are safe and valued. I wish I knew how to make that happen.

One of my friends was lamenting today that her mother-in-law spent approximately $1000 on toys for her children – both under the age of 3. Yes, 3, not 30. It is, as she said, ridiculous, and she doesn’t know how to make it stop.

I agree that it’s ridiculous. Nobody should spend that kind of money on a toddler. Hell, I’m in my thirties and I don’t think anybody should spend that kind of money on me. It’s Christmas, for goodness sake, it’s not even like you do anything special to merit a gift. The gift part is supposed to be fun, not a competition – not to show off, as in my friend’s case, from one grandparent over the other, or as in the case of other friends, to make sure that your child goes to school with better presents than everyone else. What does that say about our society, and our priorities, that we’re willing to spend the equivalent of mortgage payments on one day of presents? It’s nuts.

That said, we spent more money on each other and the girls this year than in years past. I can’t think of a Christmas, in the ten years of Christmases that we have spent together, that we have ever been what I’ll call “extravagant” – this year was as close as it comes in my book. But I still feel good about it. We bought meaningful presents for each other and for the girls, not just toys that will be thought about for a few moments and then discarded.

The two biggies for the girls were a guitar for Katie – a real guitar, not a toy one, because she is so fascinated with her dad’s guitar, and because it’s what she asked Santa for. It was one of the kid-sized ones and we got it at a music store. She loves it and has already given us several performances already, followed up with her usual “Thank you, thank you soooo much.”

The other “biggie” was a dollhouse. It required assembly, which meant that there was a lot of swearing on Christmas Eve. There were drills and screwdrivers lying on the floor of the living room while Chris, reading the directions for our Australian made dollhouse, made comments like “There’s a reason you never hear about Australian engineering.”

The dollhouse, I must say, is beautiful. And it was the first thing that Katie saw while coming down the stairs on Christmas morning. “A house, Mommy, a house!” she said, as she ran down the stairs.

Both girls love it and they have played with it quite a bit. Me too. I can’t help it. The tiny little dollhouse furniture is too cute. I am also learning some insight into how my girls’ minds work by checking out the furniture re-arranging that has been going on, and who has stopped by for a visit.

Santa has been locked in the china cabinet and been de-robed and stuffed in the bathtub. This makes sense, as, quite frankly, Katie is not a big Santa fan (loves the presents, is suspicious of the character).

One of the gingerbread men has spent the entire day on the potty. Again, makes sense as Katie is making a concerted effort to potty train. And, as there is only one of the gingerbread men in the bathroom, my guess is that he needs his privacy. “Go away, Mommy,” Katie will yell from the potty, “I’m dizzy” (meaning busy, in case you’re concerned about chemicals in my bathroom). So, she’s very into one person in the bathroom at all times.

My youngest daughter, Amy, keeps trying to sleep on the doll bed. The doll bed is about 4 inches long. Amy is petite, but not that petite.

The kitchen and the dining rooms are the least popular rooms in the house. The only person allowed in the kitchen, for some odd reason, is the angel from the crèche, who keeps watch over the kitchen table at all hours.

Mary, also from the crèche, has gone missing. She had been hanging around the dollhouse earlier. I saw Santa on the coffee table, so I checked the china cabinet on a hunch, but came up empty.

All of the other members of the Christmas story are at their posts inside and around the stable (though the humans remain outside – except for baby Jesus – while the camel and donkey are inside; the sheep must stay with the Magi) – the only two who are allowed to stray from the crèche to the dollhouse are Mary and the angel. It’s all very complicated.

They love the dollhouse, and so do I. I think it encourages imagination and I expect that they will get lots of use out of it. It was money well spent.

Also money well spent was Chris’ gift to me: when I opened it and saw what it was, I started freaking out. Chris’ aunt said, hopefully, “He got you a diamond tennis bracelet?” and I said, no, sniffling, “An iPod.” Aunt Diane was thrown by this. She told Lisa, “I’ve never seen her get emotional, and she got emotional over an iPod?” But no, not just any iPod. A video iPod. And not just any video iPod. Chris had transferred a movie that he made of the girls onto it, complete with music, and all of our photo library “best of” pictures of the girls. I never carry pictures of the girls because I can’t think to put a brag book in my bag since my bags are always changing – but the iPod is only as big as my cell phone and has all of the pictures I could want. So, I showed them to Aunt Diane – and those of the family who had been in California. And today, Kristin saw the movie and the pictures – she doesn’t “do” the internet, so she’s not seen any of the digital ones that Chris has posted. It’s such a great gift, it’s my own computerized photo album. I completely adore it.

All of the other gifts from family and friends were likewise thoughtful – from gardening books to sewing baskets. It was a good Christmas, not because it was thousands of dollars of presents (which it wasn’t) but because each person seemed to think about the other when choosing something, a real gift that meant something, not just a gift for the sake of buying a present.

Sometimes when we get all caught up in the gift-giving extravaganza that has become Christmas, we forget about the whole point of buying someone a present – not to fill their house with “stuff” but to say “I love you” or “I’m thinking about you.” And I think, on the latter, we did pretty well.

No, sorry for any of you MTV fans who may have stumbled over on a search for information about the latest Real World/Road Rules challenge… This is so not about that. I don’t even watch the RW/RR challenges anymore – either it’s getting old or I am. I’d like to think it’s the show.

At any rate, this is simply my own personal challenge. Chris has, occasionally, wandered over to check out the blog, usually goaded into doing so by his friend, Max (ahem), and then later explains how I missed a point or two. Oh really? (Imagine a skunk eye here, if I were actually capable of doing a skunk eye.)

So, here is my challenge, which I am sure will fall on deaf ears. I will add Chris as a member to my blog… He can post or reply to his heart’s content. Then, you, the reader, can make up your mind who you believe. I think we know the answer.

If you’re ever in the position of deciding exactly what toy to buy for a toddler or small child, and you find yourself in the electronics department or any similar department involving toys that beep, sing, talk, burp or otherwise make noise, let me offer these helpful tips…

1. Cozy up to the toy that you’re considering buying. Play the sounds – all of the sounds – over and over for at least fifteen minutes. Do not necessarily play the sounds in order, and do not wait for one sound to end before another begins. You should play with the toy as though you’re DJ Skribble, sometimes beginning one part several times and never letting it finish before moving on to the next. Again, this should go on continuously for at least fifteen minutes, preferably half an hour. If, at any time, you find any part of this annoying, or get any part of the noises (beeps, songs, speech, burps, etc.) stuck in your ear, STEP AWAY FROM THE TOY. Do not purchase this toy. If you pass this test, go on to the next tip.

2. Find a random child in the store who is willing to imitate the sounds that the toy makes in several different voices – high pitched, low pitched and backwards. Allow the child to randomly repeat the sounds for, again, at least fifteen minutes. If you start to get a little agitated with the child, or if the child starts shrieking halfway into the fifteen minutes, PUT THE TOY BACK ON THE SHELF. If you don’t actually want to kill the child, consider the next tip.

3. Ask yourself, “How much do I want to remain friends with the child’s parent(s)?” This could be the deal breaker.

One of our gift-givers did not consider any of these tips when purchasing a present for my eighteen month old daughter. She bought (and before you ask, I have no idea where one can find one of these) a doll dressed as a cheerleader that does cheers with a faux Southern accent, over and over, complete with the phrases (and I am not making this up) “Wa-hoo!” and “Yee haw!”

Okay, I get that I’m Southern. But I was never a cheerleader. And no offense to any out there reading this, but I am not real hopeful that my girls become cheerleaders. I’d rather that they were the ones being cheered. But I digress.

It is not a pleasant toy. It screams. Over and over. My least favorite of the cheers? No, not the infamous “We’re number one, you’re number two, we’re gonna beat the whoopee out of you” but, in fact one that ends with the cheerleader singing “Wiggle it, just a little bit.” Chris has issues with his girls being encouraged to wiggle anything at all.

In fairness, it was an aunt who gave this to my daughter and my daughter loves it: she’s “wiggling it” all over the place. And the aunt is fabulous. And she did get my oldest daughter a wonderful gift – a Lite Brite, which she can hardly put down. But I am not a fan of the cheerleading doll. And I believe, in fact, that most electronic toys should be banned.

So, in light of that, here’s a little cheer of my own:

“I’m the mom who has to live down, all the crazy toys you found. So if the toy makes any little sound, I’m begging you now: Put it down!”

At one point this evening, I was sitting outside Anthony’s Coffee Shop in the Italian Market, sipping a latte (my pregnancy craving, I am usually a black coffee, no sugar, no cream girl) and watching as the sun set over a few skyscrapers in Philly. My girls were drinking chocolate milk out of tiny little “to go” espresso cups and seriously working on a chocolate chip cookie. Chris was finishing up his espresso and contemplating going to the Spice Corner across the street. It was one of those moments that was just so perfect that you don’t want it to end.

The whole day had come mighty close to a lot of those moments.

The morning notwithstanding (yeah, we were at work and I was on the phone with IRS all morning), it was a good day. Chris and I took the girls into town. We had lunch at the Union League, where the bartender prepared two cups of maraschino cherries and orange slices to keep the girls busy while we waited for our food. The girls had grenadine and milk to drink – a trick I learned from the La Creperie to replicate strawberry milk, Katie loves the stuff, and I had a Shirley Temple, my second ever. Lunch was yummy.

After lunch, we headed to the Italian Market – Esposito’s, specifically, in search of a crown roast. Of course, they prepare it from scratch, and there was a little bit of a wait while they did it, so we wandered through the market. We were headed to DiBrunos, where they have the most amazing cheeses – and the smell, it just smells like the holidays. Olives. Cheese. Pepperoni.

The line to get into DiBrunos was remarkably long. Yet, the folks who were waiting were cheerful and not at all in a hurry. And why should they be? It was a perfect evening out, the end of the work week, just before the holidays. I’m guessing most of those who chose to stay in line were hosting parties or dinners – and they wanted the best. And DiBrunos has it.

We went to the produce stand – our favorite for the last ten years - and loaded up on veggies and fruit for Christmas dinner. They had fresh figs – I haven’t had them since moving up north. I bought two pints and I plan to bake them with prosciutto and cheese for appetizers. Deep inhale. I can taste it already.

Chris and Amy waited while Katie and I went to the Spice Corner for the first time. I got peppercorns but couldn’t find the multi-colored ones, or mulling spices. That explains why Chris went back later.

We went back to Esposito’s to pick up our crown roast and purchase a few other things. It was getting late and Katie wanted a cookie. We had promised her a treat for going potty earlier in the day (she’s on a roll lately) so we decided to stop at the coffee shop and take a break. Some of the Christmas lights were just coming on for the evening, it was really beautiful out. The energy was great, with shoppers all around – such great hustle and bustle. Just beside the coffee shop was a little boutique where I picked up a small ring for myself and a little something for Katie. I chatted with the owner about real estate prices and then headed back out into the Market.

Before we headed home, we headed for the Christmas lights on 13th Street. If you’ve never seen them, they’re terrific. Really kitschy. The whole block looks festive. Katie got a kick out of them (me too).

And all night long, I couldn’t figure it out – why folks prefer the plain vanilla big box blandness of Wal-Marts and shopping malls over the vibrancy and energy of places like South Philly. As I sat at the coffee shop, watching the throngs of shoppers and listening to Katie chatter on, obviously enjoying herself, I couldn’t help but think about my good friend who waited at the Willow Grove Mall with her son to watch Santa make an appearance. Santa came early and she missed it, while she was eating a burrito at Taco Bell at the Food Court. What is the appeal in that?

Every now and again, I wonder if we shouldn’t move – in search of better schools and bigger houses, less bureaucracy and more enforcement. And then I remember why I love my neighborhood and this city that I call home.

I didn’t grow up in a city. I grew up in a small town in the rural South. My nearest neighbors were two miles away. I didn’t get the chance to see other Christmas lights or have chocolate chip cookies with my mom at a cool coffee shop.

My girls are getting to do those things.

This isn’t a critique of rural versus urban. I don’t believe that one is necessarily better than the other. They are, to sound canned and trite, just different.

But the thing I don’t get is how you can live near a city, a great city like Philly, and choose not to embrace the energy and opportunity that it has, but rather relegate your life to the big box, sanitized for your convenience culture. Cause you’re missing a whole lot, trust me.

That said, no matter what your location, or what your idea of a good time is, I hope that each of you is taking the time to enjoy the holidays, spending time with your family and friends and remembering those moments that collectively, make us who we are. That’s the best part of the season.

Have a wonderful holiday.

Chris now officially has the dream job of most men: he is being paid to look at porn. Yep, you read that correctly.

Back in the day, his job seemed a little boring: contract review after contract review (of course, he thinks tax law is no great shakes – boy, is he wrong!) after contract review. He is currently representing a few tech companies and as part of his responsibilities, he has to review certain sites and items to see if they are appropriate. He’s a regular Antonin Scalia.

His latest responsibilities have involved reviewing naked greeting cards and web cam sites. I should be so lucky that it’s male porn. Nope. Well, not most of it.

At any rate, who knew that, other than Scalia, it would be the job of an attorney to look at nude photos – and get paid to do it? He’s been checking them out on the computer today. Such is work … or so he says.

Okay, my brother didn’t exactly make the move to New York City or even (shudder) Charlotte, but he did move from “spot on the map” Horatio, SC to Sumter, SC. I am very excited for him… He and his family closed on their first new house last week - just in time for Christmas. And apparently, despite an incident involving D-Con, a mouse and my niece’s new dog, the move in went fairly well. Cool.

Merry Christmas, Rob!

PS - Here’s a picture of the new place…