The Hypocritical Gourmet

I have bad eating habits. When I got pregnant with Ben I swore that I would change my ways. Then I got bad morning sickness and ate Taco Bell's bean burritos because they were all I could keep down. So I told myself that once Ben was born I would reform. But I didn't. I continued on my path to self destruction while I made Ben homemade, organic baby food. I told myself that HE would eat better. And he has and so far it has been relatively easy. I would feed him healthy food while I scarfed down a piece of pizza. But now we have hit a bump in the road. He wants what I have so now I am hiding food from him. It's like being back at my parents' house when I would sneak downstairs to get a bowl of ice cream and covertly carry it off to my bedroom.Often I have the dilemna of not giving him a sip of my coffee frappuccino and hearing him scream all the way down the highway or giving him some and have relative peace in the car. Some of you will say that I should just have some willpower and be a good example to my sons. And you would be right. But at 10:00 after a long, hard day I don't care and I just want to snuggle up to Mr. Ben and Mr. Jerry. So in 2008 I will once again try to eat better and exercise more. And maybe, just maybe, I will make it until January seventh.

Putting the Christ Back in Christmas

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I was driving through the Starbucks drive thru (aka Mecca) the other day when I noticed that the truck (this IS Texas after all) in front of me had a bumper sticker that said PUT THE CHRIST BACK IN CHRISTMAS. As we all know, the Christians have been a minority that has been persecuted in this country and as a result feel the constant need to remind us of this fact. The CHRIST never left CHRISTmas. He was just avoiding the religious right.Then yesterday on my way home I drove past the Islamic center near our house and they had one of those message boards out front, like the kind you see in front of high schools that usually say 'Go Wildcats'. But this one said 'Congratulations on the birth of Christ'. WHAT?! First of all, was that a secret plea for no one to vandalize their center? And secondly, is Mary really getting all these kudos all these years later for giving birth? In a few hundred years will the local temples be congratulating me for doing such a splendid job giving birth to Sam and Ben? Is Mary singled out for extra homage because she had to go through childbirth without at least getting to have the fun of conception? I know what it is. It's because she went without the epidural, isn't it?

Excavation

Yesterday Josh woke up from his nap and said he was going to tackle the storage shed in the backyard. I almost fell over when he said it. Neither of us are big in the motivation department, especially after a nap. But I was impressed. He put his gloves on and headed out there to kick some debris' butt. When we moved into our house, the previous owners left us all sorts of memorabilia. They left stuff in the kitchen and the garage. These little 'gifts' were nothing but a pain in the rear because we had to deal with getting rid of their junk. The storage shed loomed as the greatest challenge of them all. I was afraid to even look inside of it for months. It was full of junk and was incredibly dirty. And since I have an insane fear of little creatures, I was sure it was crawling with them, so I kept my distance. Josh founds all kinds of stuff out there. Mostly garbage. But he did manage to unearth some cool stuff in the arts and crafts department. There was a rubber stamp making kit as well as this stamp collection which looks cooler than its practical usefulness (see below). Ben found all sorts of balls as well as a small swimming trophy that he fell in love with. It was like coming upon a time capsule or an archaeological dig. Of useless stuff.

Frosty

Ben can't get enough of Frosty the Snowman. It is 8:30 in the morning and we have already watched it 3 times in a row. The child is obsessed. And I realize that I should set boundaries and not let him watch it so much, but then I couldn't sit here drinking my coffee and writing this post. I wonder if Jimmy Durante thought that his lasting legacy would be an animated children's show. Poor guy.

Alternamom

If you have not yet read Neal Pollack's Alternadad you must right away. It is a wickedly funny book about trying to have a child without losing your hipness (if you even had it to start with, which I did not). The best line in the book is when he describes his artist wife as being allergic to making money. That's me!Since Pollack and his family lived in Austin for most of the book, he talks about sending his son to the same preschool as Ben goes to as well as "Max the Mohel" (who performed Sam's bris). His son's circumcision story in chapter seven is not to be missed.

The Blue Genie

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Today I went to the Blue Genie Art Bazaar to do a little last minute xmas shopping with my friend Geni. It had some great stuff and I spent too much money. But it felt SO good to be supporting artists instead of Target for a change. I have always taken issue with the fact that as an artist I cannot afford to buy other people's art. In fact all of the art I have has been through trade with other artists. But in 2008 I want to start putting money where my values are. Or should I saying putting credit card debt where my values are? More realistic.

Money and Coffee

Every time I go through the Starbucks drive thru Ben asks "What are you doing mommy?" and I say "Getting coffee." Then he says "Coffee and money?" (there is also a drive thru back right there which I often use). So now every time I go to get coffee he asks if I am getting money too. Then when I was at the atm the other day he wanted to be sure that I was also getting coffee. But of course.So now they are inextricably linked in his mind. Coffee and money and money and coffee. Boy is his future analyst going to have a tough job.

Stuck in the Middle

I have been thinking a lot about identity lately. As I meet more people in Austin I try to remember what it is that I look for in the people who are close to me in life. My friends in Berkeley I had had for so long—some since middle and high school—that I couldn't remember what attracted me to them in the first place. My NEWER friends I met about 10-15 years ago. Starting all over again is daunting to say the least.I am a little bit of everything. Part hippie, part yuppie, part health freak, part junk food junkie. I like books and movies but know almost nothing about music. I am not especially hip but not a total nerd either. I feel like I am a middle person. Stuck in the middle of all the 'types'. And so, as I begin my quest for friendship in Central Texas, I ask myself who I am and what I have to offer others as well as what they see when they encounter me. Do I appear to others as I think I am inside? Or do they only see the surface? Does my unkempt, sweat pants wearing exterior turn them off? Do I seem pedestrian rather than exceptional? Am I even exceptional? Probably not. But I aspire to be. Five years ago I looked great. I was in amazing physical shape and I put energy into my appearance and my wardrobe. But I was lonely and uncertain of what my place in the world was. Now I am more sure of myself. I like who I am and I love my husband and the family we have created. But I am a mess on the exterior. I begin to wonder if it is possible to be happy with all of oneself at the same time. So it is an interesting time to present myself anew. Yesterday I went to a playgroup at someone's house and it was an enjoyable morning but I felt so out of my element. The rest of the company was fit and trim, well dressed and looked like something out of a UT sorority. I felt like an alien. And I had even made a semi effort to look decent. I had worn earrings for the first time in about a year for goodness sakes. But everyone else seemed to make it all work so effortlessly and meanwhile I spilled coffee on the hostesses white carpet and then procedded to be covered by about a liter of spit up from Sam. What a mess! And I of course couldn't keep my big mouth shut. Whenever I meet new people I can't seem to shut my gob as if I am saying "Look at me! Aren't I clever?" And all the women at the event want to talk about when to start feeding solids to their babies and all I want to talk about is the lastest edition of The New Yorker. This doesn't make me better or even more interesting. It just makes me lonely. Today I had a lovely afternoon with my new friend Anjalika. She is originally from Delhi and is a documentary filmmaker and she is smart and funny and has one of the most beautiful and charming little girls I know. I felt so at home with her, like an old wool sock that is warm and extremely comfortable. I feel so grateful for the people I have met in Austin that make me feel this way. And I look forward to buying them all New Yorker subscriptions, so I will have someone to talk to.

Lotion

Natalie said that her hair was too poofy so she put in lotion in it. Of course that was the logical choice if you want something to be softer and you are three years old.

Slow Start

Boy I am off to a slow start today. It's 11:15 and I am sitting at my desk having just polished off the rest of the ice cream. I am surrounded by papers, a half drunk Diet Coke bottle and a few empty glasses. Every time I do actually clean off my desk and bring down all the dirty stuff Josh asks if we are running a bar upstairs. I should be so lucky.I am not holding out much hope that today is going to be super productive, but who knows. Maybe I will turn it around. Then again, who am I kidding? At least Sam is asleep. That way I can waste time in peace.

Eat Balls

Conversation in our kitchen the other night.Josh: Do you want meatballs for dinner Ben? Ben: What? Josh: Do you want meatballs? Ben: I don't want to eat balls. Fair enough.