The New "Mom Jean"

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Hello dear readers. Our family is still in Seattle, acting like tourists and discovering nature. But lest my blog go blank for a few days, I am reposting from the vault. Since not posting would make it totally obvious that we are on vacation, which is a very unsafe thing to broadcast to the internets.


The New "Mom Jean"

I went shopping for jeans the other day, and I'm still reeling by some uncomfortable revelations.

My shopping quest started because I decided it was time to venture out from my hoodie-and-yoga-pants uniform that I wear pretty much every day. I decided it was time for a little self-care. I'm still young and hip, right? I need a young and hip outfit.

I started my adventure in Urban Outfitters, and then headed over to H&M. I can count on these stores to clue me in on the latest trends, I figure. But I am disturbed by the fact that each of these stores seem to carry only one shape of jean, in varying colors. The skinny jean.

Now, I know the skinny jean is cool. I'm not living under a rock. But I know my body type. And I know that a pear shape in a skinny jean is not a pretty thing. Why would I want to emphasize my midsection and thighs with jeans that sqeeze my legs into a small taper at the bottom? I have always been a fan of the Lowrise Bootcut. The lowrise makes my waist look longer, and the bootcut makes my leg look more proportioned. Hmm, I think in dismay. I guess I need to head over to the Gap for the old standby jeans.

I wander over to the Gap, which has always been dependable in making jeans that fit me. Actually, as I perused the back of the store, I noticed it was lined with jeans for all shapes, sizes, and generations. They even still carry their "classic" jean, which is the Mom Jean of my own mother's generation. I begin to think that perhaps the Gap should not be my fashion compass.

I leave the Gap and wander the mall again. I start to take a mental note of what people around me are wearing. I noticed that everyone under 25 is wearing skinny jeans. And I mean everyone. Anyone who looked cute, hip, and trendy had on some version of this jean.

I begin feeling the slow, sinking despair one feels when they finally crawl out of denial. Like the feeling of finding out a boyfriend is cheating. Or like reading the nutritional content of a Starbucks Frappucino.

"Oh my gosh," I say out loud to no one in particular. "LOWRISE BOOTCUT IS THE NEW MOM JEAN!"

I take a minute for this to sink in. I have have been holding on to the lowrise bootcut for years. I've been clinging to this fashion like my grandma clung to polyester long after it's time. Like my own mom clung to light denim with pleats and a 9" zipper.

So now, I'm stuck with two options. 1) continue rocking the bootcut lowrise, the New Mom Jean, or 2) look like a stuffed sausage in a pair of skinny jeans.

Oi vay. Back to the yoga pants and hoodie for me.

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dispatches from the OC

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We are hanging in Seattle for a few days. As we venture away from our below Orange County, a few highlights:

• I had a garage sale this weekend. The tacky MILF maternity top that was sent to me for review? It was the FIRST THING THAT SOLD.
• I picked up a copy of a magazine called OC Health, thinking that it might have some info about 5k races in the area. Instead, it was a booklet full of ads for local plastic surgeons, weight loss clinics, and day spas.
• At the tanning salon next to Pick Up Stix, there is a sign posted on the door reminding people that children and babies are not allowed in the tanning beds.
• And at IKEA, I got to eat dinner while looking at this lovely sight:

Look closer . . . . closer . . . yep. there it is.

Oh, Orange County, with your moderate climate and beautiful beaches. How I hate to love you.

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in case you were wondering

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In case you were wondering what happens if your Tivo fails to "place a call" for over one year :



NOTHING!!

Nothing happens. Except those annoying daily reminders that you have failed to place a call.


In other news of rule-shirking rebellion, we are still collecting data on what happens if you ignore your jury summons notices and fail to upgrade your computer's Norton Utilities. Will report back on those shortly!

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pooping for Disney

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The backstory: I have been trying to potty train India for five months now. She has done really well getting the #1 part down. She hasn't had an accident in months and does really well at home and at school. The #2 though . . . not so much. I know that she has control over it, though. She doesn't really have accidents, she just waits until naptime every day when I put her in a diaper. (She is very regular). Every day for weeks now, we go through this routine where I put her in a diaper, leave the room, and come back in ten minutes later to change her poopy diaper.


Over it.


I know she has control over it, but is just refusing to go on the potty because she is a) stubborn or b) freaked out by the potty. I've been trying to strategize how to remedy the situation. I had ideas about leaving her naked on a plastic sheet during the nap, or putting a small toilet on the bed, or skipping the nap altogether for a few days. Yesterday, she did skip the nap, and by dinnertime she had a grimace and was walking a little funny. I knew she had to go #2. She peed several times, and each time I acted like a cheerleader, trying to get her to make a deposit in the toilet. She informed me that she would not be pooping in the toilet.


Until . . .

POOPING FOR DISNEY

a play in one act

(inspired by true events)

A young girl is seated on the potty. Her mother is seated nearby.

MOMMY: India, why don't you try to put a poop in the potty.

INDIA: No. I don't want to.

MOMMY: You're a big girl now, and big girls go poop on the potty. Gabriella and Sharpay go poop on the potty.

INDIA: No. I don't want to.

MOMMY: If you put a poop in the potty, you can open the box with your new Tinkerbell shoes and wear them all day tomorrow.

INDIA: No. I don't want to.

MOMMY: (thinking back to India's daily dinnertime prayers thanking the Lord for her family and Disneyland) I have an idea. How about if you put a poop in the potty we can go to Disneyland?

INDIA: Disneyland????????

(cue pooping sounds)

MOMMY: (weeping tears of joy and disbelief) INDIA!!! You did it!! I'm so proud of you! Daddy, look! She did it! She went poop in the potty!

INDIA: I pooped in the potty and now I get to go to Disneyland!

JAFTA: (entering room after overhearing) What? I wanna poop and go to Disney!

Jafta physically pushes India off of potty and sits down himself. Commence forcible pushing and grunting

JAFTA: (strained) I can do it, too! I'm gonna poop, too!

MOMMY: Jafta, no. Wait, honey, stop. You don't need to . . .

JAFTA: I'm gonna poop so I can go to Disney!

MOMMY: Jafta, stop. You're gonna hurt . . .

JAFTA: (grunting like a woman in childbirth) UGH! Ungh. Errr. AUGH.

Daddy enters room, alarmed.

DADDY: Kristen, make him stop. He's gonna give himself a hernia.

KRISTEN: You mean a hemorrhoid?

DADDY: Kristen, make him stop. He's gonna give himself a hemorrhoid.

JAFTA: Ughhhhh! Grrrrr. I can do it. I can . . .

KRISTEN: Jafta, stop!

*plop*

JAFTA: Yes! I can go! I can go to Disney!

KRISTEN: Jafta, you didn't need to . . .

*plop*

JAFTA: More poop! That means I get to go to even more places!

INDIA: (pushing Jafta) I wanna poop more! I wanna poop more!

and scene.

Guess where we're going tomorrow?

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emotional about STUFF

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I'm not one to get emotional over stuff. I used to be more sentimental. I used to be a "keeper". I would keep any cards or notes I received. I even had a huge file cabinet full of notes passed in class in junior high (you know, the kind you specially folded with the pull-tab?) until my mother made me throw them out. But then I met Mark and his purging ways rubbed off on me.

I try not to get too wrapped up with "things" in any way. If you give me a beautiful note, I will cherish it for a day, and then I will throw it into the trash. Not because I don't love you, but because hanging it on my fridge and then putting it in a drawer and the filing it and then eventually throwing it away in five years when I clean out the overstuffed cabinet does not make me cherish it any more. But I love you for it, because hand-written correspondence is very rare these days. So very thoughtful of you.

I was going through stuff for my garage sale baby boutique this weekend. First I had to sort through all of my maternity clothes. I found myself reminiscing about both pregnancies, and I was struck with the finality of never being pregnant again. Which then brought up a flood of thoughts about our journey to become pregnant, and the pregnancies that did not last, and then the joy and anxiety and resulting miracles of those that did. I had a little moment of emotion as I realized that journey was over, and even a bit of sadness that I would never be pregnant again.

NOT ENOUGH SADNESS TO DO IT AGAIN, mind you. But I was a little wistful about the whole thing. I also came across the dress I wore for our ten-year anniversary party in 2006. I remembered what a special night that was. I remembered wearing that dress and dancing in my backyard at all my family and friends, and being so in love with my husband and baby boy, and so excited to be a few months away from a new baby girl.

Then I started going through the baby clothes. Again, I was overwhelmed knowing that we are totally done with the newborn stage. (Yes. We are definitely done. Don't ask me how I know. Because Mark asked me specifically not to blog about the minimally-invasive outpatient procedure that has given me that assurance. So I'm not blogging about it. Here is me not blogging about it, honey.) I am so glad we are done. But I was a little weepy as I put the price tags on all those 0-3 month clothes, knowing that I would never be holding a baby of mine at that size. And then I got a lot weepy thinking about how fast these kids are growing, and how I can't believe that Karis is already so big, and CAN I JUST FREEZE HER AT THIS AGE PLEASE? Because I can't bear for her to not be this delicious little baby forever. Nor can I bear to see Jafta and India get any older, either. They are just so cute and perfect at the stages they are at right now. (Other than the whole "independent toileting" factor).

WAAAHHHHHHHH. I'm crying about it just typing this.

Then I pulled out a box of Jafta's old clothes. They were labeled "Kembe". They were size 2T, and I was so sure that THIS would be the size he would come home wearing. I had already gotten rid of a box of 12-18m clothes for him, and I finally handed over the 18-24m to cousin Tanner. I remember boxing up the 2T clothes for him and thinking how big they seemed for the little baby I met in Haiti.

He turns 3 next month.

It's just stuff, I tried to tell myself, as I put the 2T clothes into a bag for Mark to take to Haiti. It's just stuff, I tried to tell myself as I gave the 2T winter clothes to cousin Tanner. It's just stuff, I tried to tell myself as I placed the 3T clothes into the box marked for Kembe.

But it's more than stuff, isn't it?

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baby origami

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The secret to a happy baby:

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tableau gone wrong

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The other day, Jafta and India were playing with Karis on the bed. They were cuddling and laughing and singing to her. It was such a cute little scene that I ran to get the camera to capture it. And here's the footage I got:




Mmmmm. So sweet.

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millk tether

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I've been feeling a little run-down lately. My family might even say I've been acting a little cranky. Okay, I HAVE. I'm so tired. I've been trying to figure out why, and I think I got a little clarity last night, when Mark attempted to give Karis a bottle. Karis was not having it. She was screaming and crying and arching her back, and as this was going on I made the connection that this was her first bottle in about six weeks. Which means, for the past six weeks, I have not been away from Karis for more than three hours at a time.


Hmmm . . . think I might need a little break?


Breastfeeding a baby is an interesting venture for a pseudo-feminist mom. Because no matter how much you think you can co-parent and be an egalitarian couple and continue your own career and bla bla bla - when you are the milk supply, suddenly you are kickin' it old school. I love that I've decided to breastfeed exclusively. Truly, I do. But I think the element of sacrifice involved was a bit startling for me. It is a beautiful bonding experience, but at the same time for a Type-A personality it can be mind-numblingly boring to sit there for hours each day as you think about other things you could be doing with that time. (Although it is a great opportunity to catch up on facebook). But the hardest part for me is that feeling that you can never really get a break from your baby. I mean, sure, I've gotten out to see a movie. I had a great night with friends just last night. But man. I'd love a whole day right about now, without watching the clock for when the next feeding time will be.


I hope it doesnt' sound like I'm complaining about nursing. Even though I guess I am . . . I am so glad I am doing it. Most of the time I love it. I'm just trying to process why I am feeling a little stir-crazy, and a little like a hamster on a cage at times. I think it's okay to acknowledge as moms that oftentimes the liberated, "you can have it all" notion is just not possible, and that's okay. As much as I'm longing for a little freedom, I know that once she is weaned, I will be an emotional wreck who longs for those quiet midnight feedings again. Such is life.


For the time being, though, I am a little determined to get her back on a program where Mark can administer the occasional bottle. I wish I could have videotaped the scene we had going on when he tried. She refused to let him do it, but she would reluctantly let me hold her and drink from the bottle. So then Mark and I tried to get creative. He sat right next to me while I was feeding her, and we would try to slowly transfer the bottle from my hand to Mark's hand. IT WAS CRAZY. She was still in my lap, but the minute my hand came off that bottle and Mark was holding it, she would lose it. And then I would hold the bottle again and she would calm down. It was so funny. But then again, not at all funny, since it makes it that much harder for me to leave her.


I do have to report that despite the bottle issues, Karis has finally taken a liking to Mark. They are slowly becoming buddies (as long as he's not trying to feed her). They are even working on a party trick together:





Alright, I gotta go. It's feeding time!

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the reframe

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In family systems theory, there is a concept that I really like called reframing. Basically, it means to take a situation and encourage someone to "see it in another frame", usually adding a more positive context to the scenario. Because I enjoy using my kids as psychological experiments putting my psych training to work as a parent, I tend to do a lot of reframing with my kids. If you are a parent, you are probably already doing it, and just didn't know there was a fancy technical name for it.

(And that's why I'm here. To teach you psychological terminology to justify manipulating your children. You're welcome.)

When your kids are sad that dad has to work late, so you put them in pj's early, pop popcorn, and call it a special "movie night", that's a reframe. When you put kale and spinach juice into a Starbucks coffee cup with a lid and call it "kid coffee", that's a reframe. When you tell your son that Superman has eczema, too, and always sits really still while his mom applies the Aquafor, that's a reframe.

Okay, that last one is just plain lying. Effective, but lying.

We had some serious reframing going on today. Jafta tends to be a bit reluctant to leave the comfort of home, even for things that he really would enjoy. He loves spending the night at grandma's, or with his cousin, but lately he has been turning down those opportunities because he just wants to stay home with us. I know that if he would go, he would forget all about us and have a great time. He always does. But he just has this anxiety that is getting in the way of something that could be incredibly fun. And boy, do I understand that last sentence more than I would like to admit.

Aunt Sarah invited him for a sleepover last night with his cousin Tanner. I knew he would have a blast, but it's been a really long time since he has been willing to spend the night out. I knew I needed to think of some ways to get him excited about it, and lower his anxiety.

First, I talked about him going to a "slumber party". (And I didn't use air quotes when I said that). Now really, this was just going to be a sleepover between two preschool-aged children, but when you ad the word party, it makes it sound fun! Exciting! Woo-hoo!! WHO DOESN'T LOVE A SLUMBER PARTY!?!

I'm kind of like the "hype man" at a rap show. I'm just keeping everybody energized.

Then I pulled out the suitcase we bought him a while ago, which was entirely too big for one night out but I knew he would be stoked to use it. He asks to use this suitcase any time we go on a trip but we usually pack his stuff in a more practical suitcase that will fit his sister's stuff, too. He was pretty jazzed to get to use his own suitcase.

I also enlisted his help in packing. We talked through everything. I let him pick his clothes and pj's, and we talked through what the night would be like at Sarah's. I let him choose a favorite toy to go with him.

I could tell he was getting legitimately excited. There was only a brief falter, just before his nap, when he said that he thought maybe he should stay home. I reminded him how much fun he would have at his slumber party. With his suitcase. With the clothes he packed by himself.

And you know what? That reframe worked. When Sarah came to get him, he grabbed that suitcase, beelined for the door, and barely looked back. Until I followed him out there with a camera and made him turn around, because I was so proud of how brave he was being. And also proud of myself for the mommy spin-doctoring that lead to him having a great time.

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when white people talk about race

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Recently, I was a part of a discussion on facebook about race. (You gotta love social networking for juxtaposing people from all walks of life into 140-character-or-less philosophical arguments). This particular discussion took a turn that I often see happen when white people jump into conversations about race. A few folks implied that racism was over. References to society's Token Assimilated Black Guys were made (Colin Powell, Tiger Woods, etc). Someone suggested that seeing more interracial families would make black people seem more "normal". Awesome. And then, I made a gaffe myself by posing a question that made it sound like I was trying to get a friend to speak for the entire adult population of African Americans. It's not what I meant . . . but it sounded like it.

Why are white people so awkward when they talk about race??



Why do we seem to have serious foot-in-mouth disease on this subject? But what may be just as telling about this discussion is the fact that there were a number of people observing this interchange, with some strong feelings about this particular subject, who did not chime in. Obviously the fact that it was on Facebook might have been a hindrance, but I've long thought that white people are really, really reluctant to engage in discussions about race, and when they do, they can be really, really offensive. It's one of those taboo subjects, like religion or politics. People want to keep quiet because they don't want to ruffle feathers. Silence is the new PC.


A couple months ago, Attorney General Eric Holder gave a speech to some of his staff at an event celebrating Black History month. In it, he talked about the reticence we as a nation still have when it comes to talking about race. "Though this nation has proudly thought of itself as an ethnic melting pot, in things racial, we have always been and we -- I believe continue to be in too many ways essentially a nation of cowards." He went on to suggest that Americans are afraid to talk about race because "certain subjects are off-limits and that to explore them risks at best embarrassment and at worst the questioning of one's character." And what was America's reaction to his seemingly too-true observations about race? What happened when he made a big speech and focused in on this aspect of race relations? He set off a firestorm of angry people, appalled that he would suggest that we are all testy about the subject of race. (Um, irony?)


I'm not sure what the outrage was about, because I think it's a given that he is right and that most white people are scared to death to talk about race. We DEFINITELY don't talk about it in a racially diverse crowd. But it's kind of a taboo topic even amongst ourselves. When I talked with my son's first preschool teacher about how his experience as the only black child in the school might affect him socially, she looked like a deer in headlights for about five minutes, and then changed the subject. When I try to rally people at our church to move towards action in making our church more multicultural, I often feel like eyes are glazing over as I talk. And if I'm in a group of moms pointing out whose kids belong to whom, and I cut to the chase and describe my son as "the black child right there" or "the African-American boy", people look at me like I've just somehow insulted him by describing him in those terms. Even though everyone else is using physical descriptors, evidently we'd all be more comfortable if I beat around the bush with the most obvious one. And I certainly wouldn't strike up a conversation with another black person about my son's race



(In fact, writing this, I wonder if I should even push post. Will there be a backlash? Will someone call me out for saying Black instead of African American? Which one is right? The Black people I know say Black. Am I allowed to say it? Surely I'm pissing someone off now by even bringing it up, right?)



Honestly, I think Holder had a pretty accurate take on the "why's" of our corporate shunning of the subject. Again, he said that talking about it risks at best embarrassment, and at worst the questioning of one's character. I think this is often true. Kirstie Alley made a recent twitter about liking Black men better and it incited a serious tongue-lashing. On a recent parenting blog a mom talked about her son noticing a co-worker's race, and she got called out from all corners of the web. Now, in both these cases, there was some warranted criticism about how these women responded. However, in both cases, racism was overtly and covertly implied. And that accusation, I think, is one that most white people fear more than anything. That fear is so strong that we would rather be silent than risk being labeled with that nasty word. I mean, racist? That word is for KKK members, and deep south red-necks, and plantation owners. Right?

Well, yes and no. We can all have racist behaviors and attitudes at times. ALL. OF. US. I think we need to get over our fears of that word. We should be willing to learn when we might be biased by prejudice, or influenced by stereotypes, or insensitive to the experiences of others. Even if that puts us at risk. I think the fear of “getting it wrong” is another impediment in race talk. But again, unless we fumble a little bit, we will never move forward.


I know that another strong motivator for silence is the belief that talking about race perpetuates racism. I would really challenge this line of thinking. Racism has caused intense hurt for many people in this country. Pretending that it has not is insanely hurtful. Not educating our kids is potentially dangerous. Empathy is never an instigator for racism. Avoiding or ignoring the reality of racism perpetuates racism.


For me, I’m establishing a few groundrules for myself:

1. I’m willing to talk about race
2. I’m willing to be wrong
3. I’m willing to listen to the experiences of others
4. I’m okay with people having opinions that differ from mine
5. I’m okay with this being awkward
6. I'm okay with people wishing I would shut up about it already


(Cause I know some of you are thinking "there goes Kristen with her race talk again. . .")

Anyways, back to that facebook conversation. At the end of the day, this dialogue brought up some tension between myself and a new friend. There was misunderstanding, and some hurt on my part. But we talked about it, and (I think, I hope), came to a better understanding of each other. Because we pushed past some of our own fears, and talked about some things that would have been more comfortable to ignore, we ended up walking away with more respect for each other.


Alight, I'm ready to put myself out there. I am convinced from years of being a marital therapist that the old "stay silent where there is tension" plan is NOT a good one. So, at the risk of being embarrassed, chastised, or judged, I'm gonna try to dialogue about race issues. It's important, and if we talk about it more, it will be less awkward.


I guess what I'm saying is, when it comes to talking about race, we all need to lighten up.


Oh crap. I didn't mean "lighten up" like in the Michael Jackson way. I mean it metaphorically. I'm going to get in trouble for this, aren't I?

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dreams can come true

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Yesterday was a day of fulfilled dreams.

First of all, Jafta won MOST IMPROVED CAMPER OF THE WEEK at his basketball camp. He was so excited! He had a great last day and proved that mommy's neurotic insecurities were mostly just projections based on her own lack of corrective emotional experience and fear of competition due to unresolved family of origin issues. Or something like that.

Then, after basketball, we went to a toy store and India got to meet Zac Ephron in the flesh cardboard!! She was thrilled, and it was really adorable to see her so excited.

(And by adorable, I mean scary. Horrific, really. To see a two-year-old so smitten and nervous and giddy over a life-sized cutout of a teenage boy . . . Trouble.)

Then when we got home, Karis figured out how to suck on her thumb and play with her toes AT THE SAME TIME. I know. Big time. She's working her way up to actually sucking on the toes themselves, but this was a big step in that direction. You can't fly to close too the sun.

We're keeping dreams alive, baby!

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righting the religious right

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(The following is an article I wrote for ConversantLife)
__________________________________

There's something in the air right now . . .

Something familiar. A growing sense of frenzy that was kicked up around election time, and seems to have re-emerged with the conversation surrounding health care reform. People are panicking. They aren't just disagreeing, or questioning the administration, or sharing opinions. People are yelling and screaming, threatening and freaking, and believing and perpetuating some seriously creative stories about the government’s desire to kill disabled children and leave our elderly "out to pasture".

I wish I could just sit and watch this unfold as a detached observer. People are drawn to drama - this is a universal truth. It would be easier for me to laugh it off and shake my head at the antics of some imaginative figureheads who enjoy cattle-prodding the masses into mass hysteria. The trouble for me, though, as a Christian, is that as I watch this unfold, I am unsettled with the fact that most of this is coming from other people who share my faith. The conservative right and "Christiandom" have been inexplicably linked in our nation - so much so that I think many people have difficulty differentiating between the two. What’s worse, the conservative right are being represented in the media by people whose communication tactics are manipulative at best.

It is baffling to me to watch people who invoke the name of “Christ” so loudly, to be so deceitful in recruiting for their political causes. It is also confusing for me that so many Christians are not outraged at this behavior. When a previous candidate for the religious right suggests that retarded children will sit in front of death panels who will decide their fate, it’s time to question their integrity as a leader. When a popular conservative mouthpiece starts showing posters of Nazi's preparing to execute a person with cerebral palsy in a conversation about national healthcare, it's time to seriously consider if this person has a grasp on reality and should be informing anyone on anything. When that same person jokes about poisoning the speaker of the house, accuses the president of loathing white people, and acts complicit when a caller suggests that Obama is the antichrist, then it's a bit confusing to learn that this man still has a huge audience amongst Christians. And when a subsidiary of a big Christian university puts out a "factsheet" on the healthcare bill that is widely circulated amongst Christians and yet refuted by most fact-checking websites, then one has to wonder when honesty became an optional virtue for the religious right.


There is nothing Christian about stoking fears, scaring the less-educated, freaking out the elderly, and then winking and shrugging when a mob mentality starts sweeping the nation. Will this still be funny when someone resorts to violence, because they are believing the political swill? Because in case you haven't noticed, there are some seriously crazy people out there who are just waiting for a good fight.



Yes, our nation is grappling with healthcare. Boiled down, some of us think our employer should keep paying, while some of us would prefer the government to foot the bill. As Christians, we are free to respectfully disagree with the government on this issue. But please hear me - my concern is not about that. I believe there are many Christians who are able to agree to disagree on this issue and have intelligent debate about it. My concern is with the hysteria I'm seeing sweep the nation. While passions are high on this issue, I think most of the brouhaha has been guided (or misguided) by some savvy members of the conservative media who are now watching with glee as their Republican public is fueled by fear. If their fantastical predictions do come true, and a death panel is instituted, or the elderly are left for dead, or our country is dismantled, I hope we all have enough faith in our country and fellow citizens to believe that ALL OF US will be fighting back. But for now, it seems like fear is a powerful recruiting tool that some are using at the expense of integrity or truth. As Brian McClaren recently said,


"But we Christians, it seems to me, have a high calling – to be radically committed to integrity and civility, even (especially) with those with whom we disagree. God, after all, is merciful, generous, and kind to “the just and the unjust”: How can we not have that same obligation regarding those with whom we disagree? Even if others resort to dirty political tricks and distortion of the truth through exaggeration and fear-mongering, we simply cannot. At the very least, we should be seekers of truth, seekers of wisdom, not consumers (or purveyors) of propaganda – even if it comes from members of our own political party and people who quote a lot of Bible verses (often out of context). We have a higher calling. "


People love the thrill of a fight, and bonding over a common enemy gives people a sense of purpose. But inciting riots over imaginary scenarios is a dangerous game. Our job as Christians is to keep doing God's work - to be His hands and feet - until He returns. Our job is to seek justice, to do mercy, to walk humbly . . . Perhaps it is time for all of us to seek these qualities in the people who will represent us. At best, it's time to turn down the voices that don't, and to be accountable for the information we give and receive so that our words and thoughts are based in the truth. (i.e., checking the truth of incendiary emails we receive before sending them on).


Recently, Keith Olbermann made a plea for the religious right to act with more integrity. Let pause for a moment on that sentence: Keith Olbermann made a plea for the religious right to act with more integrity. He's not my favorite person, and I often think he is prone to emotionality as well, but this time I think he's got it right. His words here cut to the quick of the matter and I encourage you to give it a listen:






We don't all have to agree with the same political ideology. But making things up about the people we don't like? Even my four-year-old knows better than that.

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the trauma of sports

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We had a little crisis this week that was thankfully solved pretty quickly. Jafta has been begging to attend a basketball camp for the past three months, and I signed him up for one through our city for preschool-aged kids. All summer, he's been asking about it and counting down to when it would start. It was supposed to start Monday. On Saturday, I got a call telling me it had been cancelled.

I found myself with two options:
1) completely crush my son and have him mope about it endlessly until the next camp starts IN OCTOBER
2) lie omit information about his age and enroll him in a camp running this week for kids age 5-8

Which one do you think I did?

Growing up in a family that didn't really do sports, I am having a long and rocky learning curve as I navigate the role of "sports mom". I would like to pretend that it's just a new cultural experience for me, but the reality is that athletics have always brought up deep insecurities for me. And as any parent knows, having a child basically means watching your own fears and insecurities walk around outside your body.

Like when you drop your son off and watch him roam aimlessly through the gym, clearly self-conscious about being the new kid, looking for a friend or something to do and seemingly unsure of where to even put his hands as he looks for a familiar face.

Like when you see him find the few kids he knows, and he runs to them, but then he walks away because they seem engaged and he seems intimidated.

Like when you observe that just because your four-year-old looks old enough to pass for a K-2 student, doesn’t mean he can keep up athletically. There is a vast difference of skill level between your child and the other kids, and you know that he notices, too. Only he doesn’t understand that it’s an age/motor development issue. He just knows he can’t do things as well as everyone else.

Or when, on the first day, you don't send him with snack money because you don't know that they break for snack halfway through, so he sits and watches other kids eat and then can't recover for the second half of the day. Not because he was desperately hungry, but because he was left out.

When, after the first day, he requests to play football instead, and you remember that after his first day of baseball he requested to play basketball instead. And you know that he’s really just hoping that, in a new sport, he will be automatically as skilled as he hopes and imagines himself to be. And you know that he’s disappointed that he is not.

When, on the way home, your son mentions that maybe next time he could play basketball without any of his friends being there, because having his (older) friends there makes him feel embarrassed.

When you know that one reason he was drawn to basketball is because he has noticed that basketball players tend to look more like him, and then you take him to a camp of over 100 students, and still none of them look like him. And you know that he is keenly aware of this, too.

When you come to watch at the end, and he sees you and tries even harder to make that basket, and he can’t. So then he pretends to be hurt so that he can be rescued from trying.

When you give him a little more grace than usual about fibbing in the car ride home, because you know that he didn't make fifteen baskets, but he earnestly wishes that he did.

When, every day that you pick him up, you see his face fall when the Camper of the Day is announced and it is not him. And even though you know that each child will get a turn, you also know that to your sensitive son, being the last one to get this recognition is brutal.

And when he finally does get Camper of the Day, and after his name is called and he gets his treat, he disrupts the whole ceremony by running full-speed out of his line and into your arms, and your heart breaks into a million pieces that he's not at all embarrassed to show how proud he is and how much he wants you to be proud, too.

And when you realize that none of this really has anything at all to do with sports, and everything to do with the inevitable beauty and pain that is part of growing up. And that there is nothing you can do but cheer him on.

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Host Family Needed in California

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The Medical Advocacy Team is an amazing mission that organizes life-changing (and often live-saving) medical care for children living in countries where treatment is not available. Through the generosity of doctors and hospitals that donate care, kids can come to the US on a medical visa and get treated for spina bifida, hydrocephalous, cleft palate, and other conditons that would threaten their quality and length of life.

They have assembled a treatment team for a little girl named Djoulissa, to correct her club feet and also help with some developmental and neurological diagnoses. All they need is a host family. The host family is a vital part of the treatment team - and potentially the most difficult part. The host family acts as this child's family in every way while they stay in the US, from hospital visits to aftercare. It is a very scary thing for a child to leave their family and culture and travel across the world to deal with painful medical procedures, so it is vital that there is a loving family to help them through. Sometimes the treatment and recovery can be several months long.

If you live in the greater LA area, would you consider hosting her? It is a huge sacrifice for a family to make - it is emotionally and physically draining. But I can't think of a better gift than to be a part of a team that will impact this little girl's entire life. Mark and I would love to do this but we will need to wait until we are out of the newborn stage. I'm hoping someone who reads this might compelled to help. If you are, please email smithjklc@hotmail.com, or visit their blog by clicking here:



If you feel a burden for this girl but aren't in a place to help, would you pass the word along to others in the area? You can post this to your facebook wall by hitting the green "share" button below. Thanks!

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poignant parody

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The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Reform Madness - White Minority
http://www.thedailyshow.com/
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Spinal Tap Performance

I thought these were nice little bookends to the personal story I shared last week. Gotta love Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert for making a point through parody.

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
Jonathan Cohn
http://www.colbertnation.com/
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor Meryl Streep

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recovery mode

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We said goodbye to my nephews yesterday. We had such a great time with them. We are slowly recovering from our two-week run of hosting family. We showed them all the best sites in OC (pretty much a repeat of all of the places we took my sister). Then we spent a long weekend lazing around the pool in Palm Springs. It was so much fun, but now I'm dealing with a serious vacation hangover. Today I was determined to "get back to business", which meant sifting through 232 emails, 59 messages on the answering machine, countless loads of laundry, serious mail management, bill paying, floor swiffering, call returning, etc etc etc.

We are missing the boys already. The are such a huge help when they are here. Jafta loves having them around, and these two boys have five younger siblings, so they were seriously awesome with Karis. Yesterday was such a tough day for me at home, and it finally dawned on me - I had gotten really used to having someone around to hold Karis while I dealt with India, or vice versa. Note to anyone thinking of having a baby - have a teenager first. So much easier.

But despite me using them for free babysitting, I think the boys had a blast, too. We love spoiling them while they are out, and I think they went to Starbucks every single day they were here. They both got in several games of golf with Mark. And Austin got the chance to have a voice lesson with one of my friends, who happens to be a Big Bad Broadway Star. (Which Austin would love to be some day, too.)

It's fun seeing them grow up into such great young men. Austin and I had a big ole' Gleek fest while he was out. He is now a member of the same show choir that I was in (same high school, same teacher, too). We spent the week singing show tunes, talking shows, and pounding on the piano. He introduced me to a hilarious new online musical I had never heard of before. Can you say the pupil shall become the teacher? So fun. It was a great reminder of my love of music, and even inspired me to pull out some of my old songbooks. Derek pretends to be too cool, but in the car on the way to Palm Springs, I caught him belting it out to In The Heights with the rest of us. He and I had some great heart-to-hearts while he was here. I love these boys so much, and I am so happy to be so close with them.

Alright, it's back to reality for me, and I have got some serious laundry to fold.

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The Lazy Mom's Guide to a Great Vacation

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1. Load the car up with every baby gear item in your home to the point that you cannot see out of the back window.

2. Under the children's feet, stuff bags of food from your own kitchen so you don't have to eat out the entire trip.

3. Find a creative way to breastfeed your baby in the car without having to stop your three-car caravan and make your friends wait on a nursing session

4. Leave the kids in the car while checking in so the resort staff won't see you have one more child than the "maximum capacity" per room.

5. Upon arrival at 10pm, let the kids scream and run around the resort to get their road-trip energy out

6. Get a visit from a security guard at 10:30pm informing you there have been nine, yes NINE complaint calls to the front desk about your family.

7. Jerry-rig blackout fabric that you keep in your suitcase to cover every window because you are on vacation and you want to sleep past the crack of dawn.

8. Turn the radios on in every room to a static station, in the hopes that the white noise will drown out the noise of those nine lame hotel guests around you who were trying to sleep at 10pm and will therefore likely wake you up at 6am.

9. Put the pack-and-play in the closet because that baby breathes way too loud to be in a room with anyone else.

10. Forget your children's toothbrushes and shampoo, and then act like it was a big major oversight since OF COURSE they would have been used if remembered.


11. Tell the kids that the pool is their bath for the next few days. When dreadlocks form on your daughter’s hair, begin to reconsider that decision.

12. When visiting the pool, forget the pool key EVERY TIME so you have to knock and beg for some other hotel guest to let you in.

13. After your baby swims, take off that swim diaper, inspect for poop, and if clean, lay in the sun to dry for use the next time you swim. Those things are expensive.

14. Empty the contents of all of the complimentary spices in the kitchen into a large bowl, dredge your chicken through it, put it on the grill, and name the dish after the resort.

15. Take a stroll at dusk out onto the golf course, letting the kids run and chase frogs, and when the sprinklers come on, watch them run gleefully through the water while trying hard not to think about those warning signs about the water being "reclaimed".

16. Don’t want to pay $50 for your son to play golf? Just sneak onto the course behind the hotel when no one is around.

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assuredly uninsurable

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I've been wanting to write about healthcare reform for a while now. I feel really passionate about it, but I have so much to say that I end up getting overwhelmed and then say nothing. I've also been a little hesitant on what to say and how to say it, because it is such a divisive and polarized political issue. I know my views are sure to tick a few people off. But my unwillingness to choose a side in the conservative/liberal identification game, along with my tendency to blather on about my personal political agenda, basically means that somewhere along the lines I am sure to piss off EVERYONE I KNOW. Especially my mom, but probably more so for saying the word "piss".


Anyways, there are a million things I could say on this issue, but for now, I want to start with just telling our story. The reason I think our story is important is because I think that most people who are against healthcare reform have some notions about the "uninsured", and also about what government-run healthcare is really like. In our family, we have struggled with private insurance, but we have a child who is on a government-run plan. I will talk about Jafta and our experience with his insurance another time. But today, I want to give a face to the problem for an average American family like ours.


Mark worked at a church for the first ten years of marriage. He had decent insurance at this job. During this time, I didn't really know much about the health insurance crisis. We had insurance, and so how other people were affected wasn't really a huge concern of mine. Like a lot of people today, I assumed that people who didn't have insurance just needed to look for a different job with better benefits, or just pay out-of-pocket and get it on their own. But it wasn't my problem, so mostly I just didn't care.


My first brush with the systemic problem came when Mark was in a major car accident. It was a freak accident - something you never expect will really happen to you, and one of the reasons insurance is so important. Had we not been insured, we would have lost everything to this accident. Thank God we were. We had an HMO at the time so most everything was covered. But when we saw the bill, two things stuck out. First, there seemed to be a serious game of "name your own price" when it came to the bills. The hospital/doctor/ambulance would state their price, and then that price would be considerably reduced to the contracted rate. Which begs the question, WHAT IS THE REAL PRICE? When you buy something from a street vendor in Tijuana, you expect that the first price thrown out is just a high-ball starting point for bargaining. You don't expect it from healthcare professionals, but that is exactly what happened on every bill received. Usually the "contracted price" was about 25% of the initially requested price.

The other systemic issue we noticed, which is no surprise to anyone, was the exorbitant cost and low quality of care Mark received in his month in the hospital. He went days, literally days, without seeing a doctor. I had to chase nurses down in the hallway to ask for help when Mark was struggling with basic functioning. As a family, we felt we couldn't leave him at all or he would be ignored. We had to advocate constantly for him, and often took to doing things ourselves (bathing, toileting, etc) because it was so hard to get someone to respond. It took days for someone to notice that his brace was on incorrectly, and the result is that his bones healed incorrectly which led to two later surgeries. He was booted out of the hospital way too soon, and came home completely and totally dependent on 24/7 care. I literally don't know how he would have survived if he didn't have family to care for him. And the hospital bill for four weeks of substandard care? $500,000. Then another $190,000 for two subsequent surgeries to fix the crappy job that was done in the hospital. And do you think the hospital offered a refund for their shoddy handiwork? No.

There is a lot more I could say about that experience, but I am already digressing from my point, which is to talk about how we became an "uninsurable family". When Mark left his job at Rock Harbor to do private practice, we knew that insurance would be a factor, but I was completely ignorant as to how big it would be. I had seen commercials on tv for insurances plans "starting as low as $90 a month". I figured we would just buy our own insurance, and that it would just be something we added to the budget. I knew we would have some pre-existings, but neither of us had cancer, right? Mark's accident was in the distant past, and while I figured we would pay a higher premium, I had no clue that some people just can't get insurance no matter what they are willing to pay. We called broker after broker. We filled out forms and answered honestly. Because of Mark's car accident, he was considered UNINSURABLE. He wasn't given a higher premium . . . he was flat-out denied. And surprisingly, so was I. A string of miscarriages (that required no medical intervention whatsoever) also rendered me uninsurable, and we found ourselves with no options, even if we were willing to pay. The church did not offer COBRA, and we talked to numerous underwriters, all of whom told us the same thing. We won't insure you, and NOBODY WILL.

Now, Mark and I did manage to find a way around this. We were able to form a corporation and gain insurance as a company of two people, since we are in the same field. But not everyone has the education, savy, ability, or money to do something like that. I know there are many people out there without insurance because of health conditions. And these are the very people that need insurance. Why we would want the government to stay out of offering this right to every person, especially the sick, is beyond me.

We are very fortunate to be insured, but this is still a broken system. We pay $1000 a month to insure the two of us. That's $12,000 a year, and doesn't include our kids. This is only catastrohpic insurance. We have a $5000 deductible every year. I got pregnant in August, so we paid that deductible in 2008, and then it started over in 2009. And once I had Karis, we had to pay the deductible again for her hospital stay. Even after the deductible, our plan only covers 75% of a hospital stay. So my delivery bill was $1900 after the deductible.

So, if you do the math, my pregnancy cost us:
$9000 (9 months of premiums)
$5000 (deductible in 2008)
$5000 (deductible in 2009)
$5000 (deductible for Karis)
$1900 (hospital stay)

= having Karis cost me $25,900.

And I have insurance.

Please know I'm not saying this for a pity party. Mark and I are fortunate, we're scraping by, we don't need anyone's sympathy, yada yada yada. We may have to lay off the Starbucks and eating out for a while, but we will manage. The point I want to make, though, is that some people can't. This kind of expense would put some people into bankruptcy. People WITH insurance cannot afford bills like this. That is not okay. And these numbers are for a pregnancy. I can't imagine what a serious accident or illness would cost.

I share all of this in an effort to put the insurance thing into perspective. Regular, hard-working people are struggling. This is not a problem that just effects illegal aliens or the unemployed. (Although those people are deserving of sympathy, too). This is a problem for many average Americans.

There is so much more I want to say about this . . . I want to talk about how we are already paying for the uninsured, about how government-funded health insurance does not mean socialism any more than libraries, public parks, or schools do. I want to question why we think money-hungry HMO's are managing our health with any more benevolence than the government would, and how 0ur current system has most of the very issues we fear about countries like Canada and England (long waits and crappy care). I'm hoping I will get around to talking about that, but for now, I would really encourage everyone to look at this issue with FRESH EYES. Move beyond the political, because this is not a political issue. This is a social justice issue, and our level of compassion should not be defined by our political alliances.

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the nephews are in the building

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This morning, we said our goodbyes to my sister and her sweet family. I sent Mark to the airport to drop them off, and then to pick up my other sister's kids. My younger sister's two boys, who I still think of as looking like this:



Mark returned from the airport with two grown-ass men. I don't know how or when this happened, but these boys are HUGE. Derek rolled in wearing his do-rag, and since Karis is still dealing with cradle cap, they had a matching look:

Then Austin put his on, which made Jafta sad, so he stole one from Karis. He also asked to change into this outfit before the boys came, because "they are big and play basketball and I want to be matching with them". He looks up to them so much. Which is fine by me . . . I can't think of two better boys for him to emulate.

And then Mark felt left out, and, um . . . yeah.

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touristy

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My sister, her husband, and their 15-month-old daughter have been visiting with us this week. It has been so great to have them out - it's been way too long. The last time they came out was right after I had India (when I took a road trip to Vegas with a 4-week-old. 'Cause I like to keep it classy like that). This was a much more mellow trip, although we are all a bit sleep deprived. My three kids shared a room while they bunked (and I mean literally, bunked) in Jafta's room. It was a FULL HOUSE.

Tomorrow, I take them to the aiport to fly back to Orlando. Their flight is at 1:20pm, and at 1:30pm my nephews are scheduled to land at the same airport, coming from Orlando for a week's stay. Our house will be busting at the seams for another week or so, but it is so fun to have them coming out. They have been visiting us over the summer ever since Austin was 6. Now he is 15!

One of the best things about having visitors is that it forces us out of our routine, and we act like tourists in our own town. We spent the past week showing my sister all that Orange County has to offer. Well, besides the OC Fair and 32,125 Board Certified Plastic Surgeons. We visited Doheny State Beach, In-And-Out, Wahoo's, Balboa Island, Newport Pier, The Spectrum, and of course, The Original Frozen Banana Stand. It was really fun, and the whole time Mark and I have been saying we should be doing this stuff more often. It's given us a new appreciation for where we live, and also some inspiration for the next few Saturdays of summer.



On Thursday of their trip, we went to an ultrasound lab where Brooke learned she is having another baby GIRL!!!

I'm on a boat!

"There's always money in the Banana Stand"

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