Haiku Fridays: The One Semester of Spanish Haiku

Haiku Friday

Hola señora
¿Dónde está el baño?
Muchas gracias

Inspired by this video.

It’s time for Haiku Fridays again! To play along, follow these steps:

1. Write your own haiku on your blog. You can do one or many, all following a theme or just random. What’s a haiku, you ask? Click here.

2. Sign the Mister Linky below with your name and the link to your haiku post (the specific post URL, not your generic blog URL).

3. Pick up a Haiku Friday button to display on the post or in your sidebar by clicking the button above. (Button designed by my talented husband, who is still upset I haven’t mentioned his graphic design skills yet.)

So flex those mental muscles and join Jennifer and I for Haiku Fridays. Start the weekend with a relaxing poem. Believe me, it’s the only type of poetry I’ll ever be successful at!



Blogsitting

I’m hanging out over at the Queen of Spain‘s blog today, keeping the pillows fluffed and telling tales of puberty and boobs. Come visit me, won’t you?

Oh, and thank you all for your help and advice with the kittens! My mom has begged her vet, and he will take any kittens that don’t have a home when they’re eight weeks old. He has a cage for adoptions in his waiting room. I’m still hoping to find individual homes for them, but I’m thrilled that no matter what they will be going somewhere safe. At the moment, two kittens may have homes.

And because I’m a sucker nice person, I’m bringing the whole family inside to live in our guest bedroom until the kittens are old enough to leave. I must be insane. Or I just want Cordy to be able to use her playhouse again.

Finally, have you signed up for Vocalpoint yet? Read my review about it here, or click the button on my sidebar to start getting free stuff. (And yeah, there’s incentive for me, too. If I get the most people to sign up, I win a free Roomba! If you’ve seen my house, you know I need a robot to clean for me.)

OK, must get back to Queen’s blog to relax on her comfy sofa and spill details of junior high!



Girl Toy or Boy Toy?

During one of our bi-weekly weekly far too often trips to McDonald’s, I had to deal with the one question I hate to hear:

“Is the Happy Meal for a boy or girl?”

I glanced at the toys available. A My Scene doll and a Matchbox car. One clearly intended for girls, and one intended for boys.

I sighed. “For a boy.” For the record, I haven’t gone all Angelina Jolie on you and quietly adopted a boy from some small African country while you weren’t looking. The toy was for Cordy – definitely a girl – but I knew she would play with the car, while the doll would be tossed aside, unnoticed.

I drove around to the window to pay for our trans-fat, and the woman who took my money saw Cordy and said, “Oh, wait. I need to fix your order. This says the Happy Meal is for a boy.”

Quickly snapping out of my amazement that they would ever voluntarily fix an order, I said, “No no – that is right. My daughter wants the car.”

You’d think I told her my daughter likes to read porn while shooting small animals in the backyard. It was a look of confusion mixed with a little repulsion. “Oh, OK then,” she said, with as much judgment as she could muster.

Why must we have “boy toys” and “girl toys”? Do we really need to start pushing gender roles on our children at such a young age?

Cordy happens to have little interest in dolls. She also doesn’t much care for toy vacuums, toy kitchen items (unless it’s food), or dress-up clothes and makeup. She loves cars – her favorite is a monster truck. She also likes rockets, construction blocks, and trains. Her favorite shirt features Little Einstein’s Rocket, and it was purchased from the boys section of Target, because the girls section only had shirts with June dancing on them.

It frustrates me that we impose gender labels on toys and teach our children that certain toys aren’t for them because they don’t possess the right reproductive anatomy to play with them. And while I hate the stares I get when requesting a boy toy for my daughter, I can’t imagine how hard it would be for the mom of a boy to request a doll toy. A girl getting a boy toy is weird, but can be dismissed by saying she’s a “tomboy”, but the gender rules aren’t as forgiving for boys. Boys who like girl things are often looked down on in testosterone fueled circles.

Back when I was a kid and they had the Barbie-Hot Wheels toys at McDonald’s, I never thought about the pressures being put on me to conform to my gender standard. But looking back, I remember I always chose the Barbie (or the employee looked at me and chose for me). I never liked Barbie, though – I got that toy because I was a girl, and that’s what girls were supposed to get. I think I would have liked the Hot Wheels car more.

I’m not trying to say that girls shouldn’t like dolls and boys shouldn’t like cars. But I think it’s time for us to stop assuming that each gender must like those items. A simple change at the drive-thru could be to ask people if they want a doll or a car, and not ask “boy or girl?” Asking which toy instead of which gender removes the overt gender references to each toy, making parents more comfortable to choose the toy their child will like the most. For older children, it also allows them to feel safe picking their favorite toy and not feel that they have to get their gender-assigned toy because it’s expected.

When Cordy is older, I want her to be able to request the toy she really wants, and not pick the doll just because she was forced to reaffirm her gender by being asked “girl or boy?”



Did I Mention I Have A Second Daughter?

I just realized it’s been awhile since I wrote about Mira. Did you forget about her? She’s now four months old – can you believe it?

I’m a little behind on things right now. This past week has been busy, with cleaning up after Cordy’s birthday party (video still to come), Cordy starting at her new preschool, me starting nursing school, Aaron starting rehearsals for a new play, and also taking care of a family of cats in our spare time. It’s exhausting, and I’m barely awake as I write this now.

Mira has been around through all of this, quietly waiting for her turn to be noticed.

Notice me.

OK, maybe “quietly” isn’t exactly accurate. Miranda is a force to be reckoned with, just like her sister, yet often in entirely different ways. At four months, the screaming is slowly lessening (thank you, colic gods!), and she’s beginning to let her preferences be known. Some personality traits I recognize from Cordy, but at times they seem to be polar opposites.

I’m starting to understand that we will never be able to make both of our daughters happy at the same time. Cordy hates to leave the house, while Mira cries more if we’re home. Cordy gets upset in large groups of people, but Mira is happiest surrounded by a crowd. So if we’re home, Mira is upset, and if we’re out in public, Cordy is upset. Fun, eh?

Mira is a breast fiend. She wants her milk directly from the tap, and is usually offended by any offer of a bottle. Cordy hated breastfeeding, and had given it up entirely by this point, so this is all new for me. I’m glad breastfeeding has been so easy this time, and it’s certainly cheaper, although it guarantees that I can’t be away from her for long.

Breastmilk does a body good. And it gives you chubby thighs.

Like Cordy, she’s a serious baby, requiring a real song and dance from me to produce a smile. She’s discovered her feet recently, pulling them to her mouth as often as possible. Actually, anything near her ends up in her mouth – she’s practically begging for solid foods, but I’m holding off until her next check-up at least. Somehow I think she will love any food offered to her.

She’s charming, and while she still hates being put down, she’s not as high-needs as Cordy was at this point. Her naps are infrequent and short (must run in the family, and it’s enough to convince me I don’t want more kids), but she will sleep a 5-6 hour stretch in her crib at night before demanding to be brought into bed with me for the rest of the night.

I like mommy’s bed better. It’s got food on demand.

It’s hard to not constantly compare my two children – is this normal? Do other parents spend way too much time noticing how their kids are similar and different? Regardless of the comparisons, Mira has found her place in our family, and she is a sweet baby. I can’t wait to watch more of her personality develop to see how much she is like her sister, or Aaron and I, and also how much she is her own person.

Happy four months, Miranda. Now, do mommy a favor and let me get some homework done, m’kay?

What? I’ve got needs, too.


It’s A Bird, It’s A Plane, It’s Haiku Friday!

Haiku Friday

Facebook, Bill and all,
Breastfeeding is not obscene.
It’s only a boob.

Little infant dear
Why must you choose to cry when
I have a deadline?

(Seriously. Do babies have a sixth sense to determine when we are the most preoccupied and so automatically choose that moment to decide they can’t sleep and must be held?)