Now *this* is what i always dreamed of

All those years from approximately age 16 onward when i dreamed of being a mommy, it was moments like these that i always pictured. Every time Charlotte grabs my hand (well, finger really) and says, "C'mon, let's dance" and leads me to the bedroom and turns on the radio and we groove in a major goofy way, my heart leaps just a little. Every time she rolls the mini-trampoline out from behind the dogs' chair and we have a little bounce-fest. Every time we to somewhere new and she plays and laughs and plays. And especially times like yesterday early evening when we got out the hose, ostensibly to water the plants, and had a BLAST!!!

It started with my little diabolical genius deciding it was fun to chase daddy with the hose and make him squeal like a little girl. No, wait, that was Charlotte squealing like a little girl :). Or did it start when i made "sprinkler patterns" out of the water and encouraged her to run through it, but she wouldn't do it without holding daddy's hand? Yeah, i think that was it. However it started, it soon devolved into Charlotte chasing the two of us around with the hose, getting us wet. And of course we got some revenge, too ;).

Please forgive 2 things: The crappy pics and the insanely bad yard. The pics were taken with Alan's phone in between chasing or being chased, while trying desperately not to let the camera get wet. And our lawnmower is broken :(.

Some recent Charlotte-isms

"i like me"
"i don't want it"
"i like tickle"
"Hahahaha i pull doggy tail", followed by...
"No mad at me"

And my favorite is that she calls my dad, who prefers to be called Papaw, "Pol Pot". Like the Cambodian Khmer Rouge dude. If you knew my dad, you'd realize why this is particularly funny.

On gender

I was a lonely child. When I was in 4th grade, I carried around a little journal that I
wrote in constantly in very tiny writing. Many thoughts, from why I thought Melissa S.
(Popular Girl #1) wasn’t very pretty, how scared I was when my mom and sister would
fight so hard upstairs above my bedroom and would stomp the ground so hard that the
light fixture in my ceiling came crashing down nearly on top of me, and how I felt when
I discovered that my mom kept a packed suitcase in a downstairs closet and how this
shed new light when she would respond “If I’m here when you get back” when I would
say, “Goodbye, mom, see you this afternoon!” when I left for the school bus. This
continued until 6th grade when one of my classmates found the book I’d carelessly left
in the open and told everyone that I had a crush on Chris R. and that I thought Melissa
S. had eyes entirely too wide set for her face. After that, I wrote poetry that was vague
enough to be about anyone.

I distinctly remember one journal entry in which I postulated that it was entirely better
for parents to have a girl and then a boy rather than a boy followed by a girl. In my ten-
year-old mind, “society” (or in this case other ten-year-olds) were harder on girls who
had boyish characteristics than they were on boys who had girlish characteristics. Let me
state that I realize that is completely untrue and maybe even the opposite of truth, but as
a tomboy who had not yet been called a dyke much less a fag, that was my perception at
the time.

My point in sharing this story is that gender and gender roles, have always been on my
mind. I am not transgendered in that I definitely feel like a woman, womanhood is how
I was meant to be, but I have always felt closer to the “male” portion of the “normal”
spectrum than to the “female” portion. (See the “How Male is Your Brain” quizzes; I
rate clearly in the male side). I have always had more male friends than female friends,
I have always enjoyed “boy” activities more than girl activities (i.e. I never played with
dolls as a child but I adored climbing trees and playing sports), and I even went on to
pursue a male-dominated career (engineering). I felt like an outcast largely for this as
a child, and my journal entry shows that. I can only imagine how a non-transgendered
heterosexual boy who is more empathetic and nurturing than the average boy, perhaps
slightly more effeminate in nature, is tormented daily throughout childhood.

This article has made the internet rounds lately, and a lot of people have a lot to say about
it on both sides. I’m not sure I can add much to the discussion, but I will say it’s kind
of strange looking at these issues as a parent. At this point, my daughter seems closer
to the tomboy side than the princess side of things. She’s very rough-and-tumble. She
climbs, she loves sports, she loves to wrestle (even as an infant I would spend time every
night “wrestling” with her and enjoy a fit of tintinnabulation in her giggles), etc. She also
is very nurturing, carrying her “babies” around with her wherever she goes, feeding them,
rocking them, putting them to “bed” under blankets and things. She is showing what
seems to be real empathy (versus rote or mimicking behavior) before her time. In other
words, she is the PERFECT child for Alan and me. Alan is very nurturing for a man, has
more female friends, etc, in the same way that I was more physical and had more male

friends than most girls. So Char is a wonderful blend of both qualities.

BUT, how do we approach society’s expectations with her? So far we’ve mostly taken
the “ignore it and hope it goes away” approach lol, though I’m somewhat convinced
that old-school views on sex and gender at least partially color my step-father-in-law’s
exasperating over protectiveness of Charlotte. I can honestly say that if Charlotte
continues to eschew social norms and be a tomboy, I will be 100% comfortable with that.
And if she turns out to be a true tutu-loving princess, I will be 99% comfortable with that
(lol).

But, I still dress her, for the most part, as a girl. She has a few very boyish t-shirts (a
couple were definitely bought in the boy aisles), but when she wears them I usually pair
them with a skirt rather than shorts or jeans, or at least put her in pigtails so she’s more
obviously seen as a girl to others. It used to bother me when people would call her a boy
when she was an infant, and I’m not sure why it did. It really makes no difference in
the world whether the random stranger who says “How old is he?” knows she’s a girl or
not. She was too young to know the difference, and it should have no effect on ME. (I
suppose the one good thing about the hype over the genderless child is that it’s gotten me
to think a little harder about this). And, should Charlotte be truly transgendered and want
to pursue biological changes, I would support her in that just as I would support her if
she is a homosexual or if she decides she likes Barbies. (Not Bratz, though; I will never
support Bratz lol). So why does it matter what clothes she wears and whether a stranger
can tell their sex correctly?

And the other big internal question is whether all of this would apply in reverse if I had
a boy? Sure, if he were interested in dolls, I would let him play with them. But would I
buy him a baby doll or encourage him to play with stuffed animals instead? If he were
interested in pink frilly tutus, would I have the guts to let him wear them? I have a friend
who does not make cosmetic changes to her toddler son’s appearance, including cutting
his hair; his hair is about shoulder length now and will keep getting longer until he asks
to have it cut. While I totally respect this philosophy, I would probably have gotten his
hair cut by now if I had a son with longish, thickish hair (i.e. more hair than Charlotte).
Is that wrong? I’m not sure. I’m not sure where the line is, really. Supporting your
child’s interests, even if they go against the “norm”, seems right to me, even mostly
natural. But dressing your child in a way that identifies their sex seems right to me, too,
at least until they start to show interest in these things on their own. Is this the right line
to draw? What do you think?

Charlotte's First Joke

Charlotte went in the bedroom and must have wanted us to knock because she came back out and said, "Knock knock".

So, naturally, i said, "Who's there?"

"Yeah"

"Yeah who? Yahoo! Hahahahahaha!"

Take 2

Wrong video loaded, sorry! i'm having trouble with this; it may be too long.

"i fareful!"

i find it really ironic that Charlotte's version of "careful" sounds a bit like "fearful".

The doll, by the way, was a first birthday gift from a dear friend, and Charlotte seemed to name her Wah. She has consistently called her Wah for nearly a year. In case you were wondering.

Let's Talk Body Parts

For some reason currently forgotten, i decided to teach Charlotte "proper" names for body parts. Or at least reasonably proper. We say "vulva" (because really it's not her ACTUAL vagina) and "breast" and when the time arises we'll say "penis" and "testicles". (On the other hand i say "pee pee" and "poo poo" and "bottom" because "gluteus maximus" is pretty lame even for a 2 year old). Oh, and for fun, we say "pass gas". We jokingly say "the vapors" also.

The problem is that Charlotte has decided that our proper names are lame and has injected her own. Vulva becomes volvo, which isn't totally unexpected. But for some reason she has decided that breasts are "wah wahs" and nipples are "poon poons". Yes, poon poons.

Fashion Forward?

Yes, that IS an inside-out pajama shirt being upcycled as a skirt. AND another t-shirt bunched around her waist as a belt. AND a pair of underwear with both legs through the same hole up around her waist also.

Witnesses report that she put on this ensemble and said, "Look, a dress! Pretty dress!"

(And the creative make-up is a lovely washable -- thank God -- blue magic marker. The rest is dinner.)

Meet Buddy

Char's newfound love of worms and other insects should have clued me off that we would have a new pet. Meet Buddy, an inchworm or caterpillar of some kind anyway. We read "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" (or "paterpiwwar" as Char says) often enough that i hope she isn't disappointed when her "beautiful futterfy" turns out to be a plain old moth lol.

Char named him "Buddy". Probably because i was saying things like "Come on, buddy" lol. She is in LOVE with this caterpillar! She wants to look at him constantly, and she even wrote him a song. i'll see if i can get it on video. It is a little hard to tell if she's saying "buddy buddy buddy" or "buggy buggy buggy", but she's definitely singing him a song. It's sooooo cute! (Here it is!)

We've already had one "is he dead?" scare. i came home from work at lunch (dizzy, whatever), and Buddy wasn't moving. He had also pooped or something and it made it look like his back end was squished and fried, like maybe it got too hot in the window somehow. However, it would seem that eating and pooping were pretty exhausting and he took a little nap, because he woke up and resumed eating. Whew!

i will reassure those of you in the Southeast that Buddy is the ONLY insect we will be taking on as a pet this summer. That's right; there will be NO FREAKING CICADAS in my house if i can help it. OMG i hate those things, and they've already been emerging at our house, leaving their nasty molted shells everywhere and driving me crazy. And i REFUSE to walk barefoot or let Char walk barefoot outside anymore.

i have such horrible memories of the 13-year cicadas from the first time i encountered them when i was 9 almost 10 years old. It was the first spring after my family moved to the Nashville area from Knoxville, and i was miserable. i felt like this new place was cursed or something. Thankfully i was in Memphis 13 years ago and they don't emerge as much there, but i'm bracing for a horrible spring.

P.S. A few hours later and i'm having my second "is he dead?" scare. He's not moving and was partially submerged in water. i may be doing a lot of searching on that tree for subsequent Buddies!

My Mother's Day Gift

i love my husband's videos! (Please ignore the fat woman; she keeps popping into the frame and it's kind of driving me nuts).

Hope you enjoy it!

Happy Mother's Day

A couple of years ago, Mother's Day was this horrible thing for me. It also fell on my birthday, and i was miserable to be childless. Truly miserable.

Now i am so happy to be a mom, and they day just seems trivial. i don't get to spend it with MY mom, who passed away 5 years ago, or even my mother-in-law, who lives in another city. i don't know what my still-sleeping husband and child have planned for me, and i'm sure it will be wonderful, but i'm totally content just to BE a mom, and i don't need a card or flowers or an expensive gift to make me happy today.

Hope Mother's Day brings everyone peace and joy, and for those who are still waiting, ((hugs)) and hang in there! It will happen, i just know it.

Food of the Gods

i feel so empowered today. Like i ran a marathon or something (i didn't; i refuse to go anywhere NEAR downtown on Music City Marathon weekend lol). Nope, i made YOGURT! Roar!

Yogurt? Yes, yogurt! Also known as food of the gods. Mwahahaha!

Once upon a time when i was a hippy in college, my Thermodynamics professor, who happens to be very, very Greek, told me how he makes yogurt. It sounded incredibly difficult. It involved cooking on the stove off and on all day, and using certain types of yogurt as a starter, etc. He encouraged me to do it, but i lived in the dorms and i didn't have access to a stove except in the basement and i wasn't going to literally slave over it all day. i shoved that thought aside for far too many years.

i toyed with getting a yogurt maker recently. They're about $50 and i thought maybe i could save some money over the long haul, but in researching and asking friends for help, etc, i found that i don't need a stinking machine. There are a LOT of ways to make yogurt, and some of them are difficult and some are easy. i'm lazy, so i chose easy.

My way: Heat the oven to 100 degrees F (or 17o as that's as low as mine goes, so i opened the door a bit and fanned it out some). Pour 2 quarts whole milk and 3 Tbsp plain yogurt in a covered casserole dish, stir, cover, and put in oven. Turn oven OFF but keep the door closed and the light on, and leave it overnight. Pour the clear liquid off in the morning, and you've got yourself yogurt. Yup, no more complicated than that!

You can slave over a stove, or you can use a crock pot and turn it on low for a few minutes every couple of hours. You can even make it by putting a heating pad in a box and putting a dish with the milk and yogurt mixture in the box, or by heating the milk and yogurt up, putting it in a thermos, and leaving it for hours. But you don't have to. You can be lazy like me!

i usually buy four cartons of whole goat milk yogurt for $3 each plus two or three 4-packs of YoBaby yogurt at about $5 each every week. That's roughly $20 a week i can save and have the same amount of yogurt! Yum!

"What do you think i could do?"

i've been asking Char what she could do for months now. If she's throwing a fit because her wagon is stuck, i say, "Oh, no! Your wagon is stuck! What do you think you could do to get it unstuck?" Or, "Oh, your daddy is sad because you hit him. What do you think you could do to make it better?" i figure at least it's good practice for me to learn how to use "problem-solving language" if nothing else, but surprisingly she's actually really good at it. She usually doesn't use words but shows me what she could do, which solves her problem. Sometimes there are surprising results (like the time she hugged her puzzle piece after throwing it instead of just putting it away lol).

Last night, she was upset when her babysitter left, and had a little meltdown. i guess she also had an accident, and because she was wearing training underwear that holds some urine, i didn't notice it until after she'd come to me and wanted to read a book in my lap. She felt the wetness when she sat down, and said, "Wet! Oh no, wet!" She got down and saw that my pants now had a wet spot and said, "Oh no! Mommy pants wet. Mess!"

i said, "My pants are wet because you went pee pee in your underwear and made your underwear wet. What do you think i could do now?" She thought for a second, took my hand and said, "Come on!" Well, actually more like "Tome on", and led me to the bathroom. She reached up and tried to unhook my button, and said, "Pants off." Then patted the toilet seat and said, "Potty." So i obliged, and she handed me some tissue. Then she did a dance. LOL.

Then she took my hand again and said, "Tome on!" and led me to the closet, where she picked up a pair of my husband's pajama pants and said, "Pants on. Det dressed!"

My little problem solver lol. i just adore her so much!

Then, and Now

A little over a year ago, i met my sister at my dad's house for a little fun with her kids, and i snapped this gem of a picture:

The dress is one i found at Kohl's; a little yellow halter sundress with bold colored flowers on the bottom and a ribbon at the waist and bottom.

The other day at Kohl's, i found this dress:


They didn't have it in yellow, but it's the same dress! i love it!