The Sporadic Post

Speak Now or Forever Hold Your Peace

2012-02-03T18:21:00.001-02:00

Cliffs: It's way too late now.

Entropy has been taking swimming lessons at the same pool for a year and a half. Babe-A began taking lessons there in August, and since she's still too short to walk very far on her own, I have to get in the pool and do the class with her.

Babe-A's current teacher was not Entropy's teacher, but I frequently saw her around and talked to her before Babe-A was born. A year and a half later this woman does not know my name.

She used to waver between three mumbled versions of something that only slightly resembled my name.

We'll pretend that I really go by Rene. If this were true, the swimming teacher would call me things like "Rachel," "Roxy," or "Rindy." Recently, however, she has settled on one of these names and has begun to use it with confidence.

I was working up the nerve to tell her how my real name is pronounced, when she decided to tell me that she is pregnant and is considering naming her daughter after me.

So if you see me at the pool, I'm only answering to Roxy.

What One Year-Olds Do on Flights

2012-01-18T13:36:00.001-02:00

Cliffs: Time may fly when you're having fun, but it sure does crawl when you're flying with a baby.

When you travel with young kids, you feel every minute of the trip.

Sunday we took two domestic flights back home from the north east of Brazil, and these are some of the things my one and a half year-old and I did to pass the time.

(I'm not going to claim that all of these are good activities, but maybe our experience will help you form your own list of inflight dos and don'ts.)

play with the folding tray (3 minutes)
play with the window shade (2 minutes)
eat fruit snacks brought from home (3 minutes)
play hide and seek with Daddy's face and the safety instruction card (3 minutes)
climb up Daddy to try and touch the air vents (3 minutes)
climb up Daddy to try and turn on the lights (2.5 minutes)
climb up Daddy to try and push the call button (1 minute)
inflate and deflate the airsickness bag (4 minutes)
put on (i.e. attempt to eat) lip balm (0.75 minutes)
open now-pressurized CamelBak water bottle and accidentally spray woman across the aisle (0.25 minutes)
try not to laugh out loud (1 minute)
play with stuffed animals (5 minutes)
press button on stuffed animal that initiates animal noise and causes flight attendant to make an announcement reminding passengers that electronic games are not allowed at this time (0.25 minutes)
"feed" stuffed animals (1.5 minutes)
put airline headphones on animals (1 minute)
attempt to eat headphones (0.5 minutes)
throw animals on floor repeatedly (2 minutes)
"read" airline security card (3 minutes)
kick seat in front of us (1 minute total)
kick off shoes (0.25 minutes)
"sing"(4 minutes total)
eat seatbelt (0.5 minutes)
sway back and forth (1 minute)
rub noses with mommy and give sweetest laugh ever (0.75 minutes)
play with hands and give high fives (3 minutes)
eat feet (1 minute)
eat--or play with--airline snacks (6 minutes)
drink and see how long we can go without spilling airline juice (1minute total)
walk laps up and down the aisle (12 minutes)
play hide and seek with the stuffed animals in the airsickness bag (4 minutes)
wave, blow kisses, play hide and seek, and generally flirt with older boy in row behind us (3.5 minutes)
play with water bottle (1 minute)
drink from water bottle (1 minute total)
spill water from water bottle (0.25 minutes total)
change diaper (8 minutes)
repeatedly search for and find the monkey and giraffe on brother's Paul Frank headphones (2.5 minutes)
make monkey noises at the Paul Frank headphones (0.5 minutes)
attempt to eat the Paul Frank headphones (0.5 minutes)
look out window with brother (2 minutes)
play with brother (3 minutes)
fight with brother (2 minutes)
squirm and avoid sleep (12 minutes total)
cry because mommy would not allow Babe-A to ______ (Fill in the blank with things like "eat entire Snickers bar," "stick both feet in mouth at same time," "walk up and down the aisles while taking off," "throw iPad on floor,"or "scratch brother's other eye.") (8 minutes total)
play with headache medicine and natural sleep aids that mommy always carries in a ziplock bag (1.5 minutes)
sleep! (34 minutes)

Total time = 151 minutes

And that was just the first flight.

Student E-mails

2011-12-10T08:05:00.001-02:00

Cliffs: Vacation could not have come at a better time.

In Student's defense, (s)he did admit to the the plagiarism, apologize profusely, and redo the work without prompting. Plagiarism issues don't always go so well.

Not a Good Combination

2011-11-27T19:58:00.001-02:00

Another great pic from my SIL

Cliffs: Entropy learned an important lesson today.

"Mommy, I chewed gum, and then I drank water, and then the gum was not good."

Whirlwind Mile Run to the States

2011-11-19T09:04:00.001-02:00

Cliffs: The good outweighed the bad, and it doesn't hurt that these tickets were outrageously cheap and we all earned lots of miles.

(Thanks to my SIL for taking all of the pictures.)

Bad: We get to the airport in Sao Paulo and discover that we left my residence card at home.

Good: The check-in agent checks with the federal police and says that I should still be able to leave and enter the country without it.

Bad: The federal police could give me a ticket when I leave and another one when I come back.

Good: I leave and return to Brazil without getting a ticket.

Bad: Our first flight leaves at 1 AM, everybody is tired, Babe-A cries a bit, and nobody gets much sleep.

Bad: Though we arrive in Miami at 6:30 AM, our second flight isn’t scheduled to leave until 9:45 PM.

Good: We have only carry-on luggage and are able to fly standby at 9:45 AM.

Good: Because of our early arrival, instead of getting a hotel by the airport and driving 4-5 hours to Virginia the next day, we rent a car, drive an hour and a half to Maryland, and get to spend the night with K’s second oldest brother and his family.

Good: Staying with K2’s family means that we get to sleep more, eat homemade food, play with more cousins, see another aunt who happens to be visiting, and drive only 3 hours to Virginia the next day.

Good: We arrive in Virginia just in time to eat some amazing homemade Indian food and then go to my nephews’ fall festival. Entropy gets to play games, jump around, and ride a horse. After all that time stuck in a seat, Babe-A is happy just to walk around.

Bad: K1 and my SIL have to work and their kids have to go to school.

Good: K gets to sit in on one of K1’s university classes.

Bad: We don’t have much time for visiting or shopping.

Good: We do manage to get pajamas and shoes for the kids and a few small things for us to eat and use around the house.

Good: In addition to Indian food, my SIL also makes delicious sushi, cinnamon rolls, mulled apple cider, and pumpkin brownies that rival these.

Good: Virginia is beautiful and still very colorful.

Bad: This makes me miss fall and the holiday season in the U.S.

Weird: While we’re in the U.S. we run a few errands at the post office. In front of me is a potbellied man with camouflage loafers and a hat that reads “SOB.” He tells me the story of his last tax return, curses the IRS, and swears that the government is trying to charge him double. Behind me is a younger, thinner man whose certified mail is telling him that his license is being revoked. He then proceeds to tell the story about how he and his friends forced the cops set up a road block in order to stop their reckless driving.

Bad: Our wonderful stay in Virginia is followed by a 5-hour drive back to Philadelphia, a flight to Miami, and another overnight flight back to Brazil.

Good: Entropy is a seasoned traveler. He loves flying, he pulls his own backpack, and he even helps us with one of our small suitcases.

Bad: Babe-A is only one, and she still has a ways to go until she is at this point.

Good: We get home safely and have the afternoon to clean up and rest before returning to work the next day.

A Round of Applause

2011-11-19T08:31:00.001-02:00

Yesterday in my small elective writing class, an employee delivered something to my classroom, and I said something simple to him in Portuguese. My students almost never hear me speak Portuguese, and they're usually surprised to discover that I can communicate a little bit. One girl paid me a nice compliment on my language ability, and then one of the boys piped up, "Let's all clap."

And they did.

Nine, cute little 10th graders clapped for me because I said a sentence in Portuguese. And they were being sincere. And it was adorable.

Now if I could just get them to follow me around and greet all of my efforts with such enthusiastic praise.

Red-Eye

2011-11-11T19:35:00.001-02:00

Cliffs: Time I probably won't be blogging.

After a night in a hotel (if the stand-by thing doesn't work out) and a 4 - 5 hour drive, we should have a wonderful time with family--which I'm really looking forward to--until the 15th, when we turn around and do it all in reverse.

Manga Me

2011-11-09T22:01:00.000-02:00

Cliffs: I'm much cuter in comic.

I have a sweet Japanese student who has been in my class for the last three years (bless her heart).

Last semester she started coming to class early and drawing pictures of me on the board, and every now and then I'll get a new one on paper.

This is me with my standard school materials: messenger bag, pencil case, laptop, reusable Starbucks cup, kitty key-chain (yes, I have a cat on my key-chain), class novel, and a bar of Lindt chocolate. (Last semester our class met right after lunch, and I just may have an addiction that she's picked up on.)

This year everyone was encouraged to dress in costume for Halloween. I did not come in costume, so she took the time to draft out some possibilities for next year. I can't decide which one is my favorite, but I do really like the Vampire teeth, the cat paws, and the random pumpkin head. Maybe I could combine those three while eating a Lindt chili bar?

This last one is a family portrait. I think you can guess what I'm holding, even though the iPhone inverted the letters.

The feline family is sweet--and maybe it's just that I've been teaching too many comic books--but I can't help but notice that my likeness is the largest one in the picture, and instead of holding the baby like a good mother would, I am proudly waving a chocolate bar.

"That's Some Dream"

2011-11-08T23:10:00.000-02:00

Cliffs: Oh yeah? Well I write for The Sporadic Post.

Today, as part of our school’s Book Week program, I got to accompany my 12th graders to a presentation by Matt Shirts.

I had never heard of Shirts before, but it turns out that he’s an American journalist who has lived in Brazil for over 25 years. He currently edits National Geographic in Brazil, and he writes a column for the Brazilian magazine Veja.

I envy Shirts for multiple reasons: he’s an American who can now speak, write, and edit Portuguese; he grew up surfing in southern California; he has his own column; he works for National Geographic.

If it weren’t for the fact that he is also a friendly and engaging storyteller, I might have spent the hour-long lecture stewing in jealousy and self-loathing instead of listening in rapt attention.

In the end I left inspired but also a little discouraged by my comparative lack of worldly achievements. I’ve done a lot that I’m proud of, and I have a lot to be thankful for, but I’m also feeling spurred on to do more.

But while I try to find the time to take care of my current obligations, and invent time to pursue loftier ones, I’ll attempt to comfort myself with the fact that Shirts is my parents’ age, and he’s lived in Brazil since before I started school. Maybe I can be editing National Geographic within the next 25 years.

Flavor of the Month

2011-11-07T22:39:00.000-02:00

Cliffs: Now if only I could turn sex into ice cream.

This turned into chai tea ice cream. Damn good chai tea ice cream.

I would show you a picture of the final product, but I was too busy shoveling it into my mouth to pick up the camera and click a few shots.

Weekend in Brasilia

2011-11-06T22:54:00.000-02:00

Cliffs: What could be better than good friends and good food?

Though Entropy’s popsicle purchase was pretty awesome, it was just one of several highlights from our wonderful weekend in Brasilia.

“Jetro” and K have been friends since childhood, and S and I have been friends since college. We've been wanting to visit them for a while, and K finally found some decent tickets and was able to warn our unsuspecting hosts about a week in advance.

Despite the short notice, it looked like they had been planning our arrival for months. In addition to all of the homemade food, S had also created the perfect itinerary.

Other memorable moments included:

Stuffing our faces with homemade cinnamon rolls
Stuffing our faces with imported veggie meat
Talking
Crying about the Rangers losing the World Series in game 7 (I said memorable moments, not just good ones)
Watching Entropy dress up as an apostle at Sabbath School
Stuffing our faces with homemade Mexican food
Talking
Touring the monuments and government buildings of Brasilia

Feeding the pigeons and watching Babe-A and Entropy’s faces as they were surrounded by birds

Look familiar?

Playing catch at the park by the lake

Stuffing our faces with Dominos pizza and homemade chocolate chip cookies
Talking
Going to the market for pastel and Jesus soda (Yes, there’s a soda named “Jesus.” It tastes like bubblegum or Big Red. And it’s pink.)

Going to the zoo for R$2 per adult

Peeping in on the elephant exxxhibit

Eating at the delicious and scenic Mangai (#5 in this NYT article, “36 Hours in Brasilia”)

Talking
Flying back into the airport that’s a mere 15 minute's from our apartment

Entropy's First Purchase

2011-11-05T15:08:00.002-02:00

Cliffs: We're proud of our son.

Entropy loves a good popsicle. So last weekend, while visiting some friends in Brasilia, K gave him some money and sent him off to buy his own.

This is how things went down.

Shock and Awful Status

2011-11-04T23:00:00.002-02:00

Cliffs: I will not make hasty judgements. I will not make hasty judgements.

The Inspiration
A former student recently made an inflammatory statement on Facebook equating all Muslims with terrorists. The comments flooded in and included both sympathetic and opposing viewpoints. Things got heated, and I considered joining in.

I remembered my last political Facebook fight and decided against it.

But I couldn’t forget about it. I couldn’t do nothing.

So, I took some screen shots of the conversation, blurred out all of the names, dug through my curriculum for the relevant learning outcomes, found a relevant passage from our current class memoir, created a few questions, threw everything on Powerpoint, and made a lesson out of it.

The Lesson:
According to the 11th and 12th grade curriculum, students are supposed to

Analyse how audience and purpose affect the structure and content of texts.

and

Demonstrate an awareness of how language and meaning are shaped by culture and context.

So we analyzed the audience: the author’s Facebook acquaintances--a group that, based on the subsequent comments, the author didn’t fully consider.We discussed the structure of Facebook and how the content there differs from content in other media. We considered what little I felt comfortable revealing about the author’s cultural and educational background. We reviewed recent world events that might have shaped the author’s views. And then we analyzed the language.

I was thankful to the commentors who made my job easy. For the most part, the hateful comments were written with lots of capital letters, exclamation marks, run-on sentences, and spelling errors. The opposing comments were generally more formal and included much fewer mistakes, though they did occasionally get snide. Everyone used a lot of “LOL”--probably in an attempt to ease the mounting tension between “friends,” though it was also used mockingly. We talked about how the use of language affects the way that people perceive the author and the argument. But I also tried to steer them away from making the same type of hasty judgments as my former student.

And then we reread this passage from the introduction to Marjane Satrapi's Persepolis:

Since [the Islamist revolution in 1979], this old and great civilization has been discussed mostly in connection with fundamentalism, fanaticism, and terrorism. As an Iranian who has lived more than half of my life in Iran, I know that this image is far from the truth. This is why writing Persepolis was so important to me. I believe that an entire nation should not be judged by the wrongdoings of a few extremists. (Satrapi)

A current student suggested that I send this memoir to my former student.

I won’t end up doing this, but my former student’s hatred--even more than his grammar mistakes--makes me feel like I failed him in a pretty major way.

"Falling Slowly"

2011-11-03T19:04:00.001-02:00

Cliffs: Like mother, like son.

Last week the school held parent/teacher conferences for all of the lower grades. The talks with Entropy's main teacher and his Religion teacher both went well, but sitting down with the P.E. teacher was a little rough.

No, really. I had a hard time sitting down with her. As in, I fell backwards in slow motion while trying to put my butt in the chair.

It shouldn't have surprised anybody, five minutes later, when the teacher mentioned that Entropy "falls and cries a lot."

I managed to hold back my tears, but I do have ten times the clumsy experience that he has.

Falling Slowly from Rudy on Vimeo.

The Positive Sides of Paraty

2011-11-02T23:12:00.001-02:00

Cliffs: You wouldn't know it from the last post, but I really do love Paraty.

As much as I love traveling, there is usually one moment of every trip that makes me wonder why I packed my suitcase and went through all the trouble. That moment was yesterday's post.

But fortunately that one moment is always outweighed by the ones that make me so, so grateful that I left the house and did something with my time.

In Paraty, those good moments looked something like this:

Photo credit

The groom's family immediately felt like our family. We walked around the drizzly little colonial town, peaked in artisan shops, and had a nice lunch together before the wedding.

We got to stay at the beautiful beach house where they held the reception. The party was fun and intimate, and we got to put the kids to bed and actually enjoy most of it.

Sunday morning the rain finally let up enough for us to play in the sand and take the kayak out in the harbor.

After packing up, we had lunch at this amazing restaurant in the historic town center. The food was delicious, but the presentation is what put everything over the top.

Paraty is beautiful, and the route there is scenic. I've decided that I need to go back.

Pity Party in Paraty

2011-11-01T23:16:00.003-02:00

Cliffs: When it rains . . .

A couple of weekends ago, we went to Paraty for a friend’s wedding. We drove five hours for this. I bought a new dress and new shoes for this. I borrowed a belt and a purse for this. And Babe-A got fussy during the second, pre-ceremony flute piece of this.

Here’s a picture of the church. Quaint, right? But the small space and the great acoustics weren’t designed for guests who are trying to calm a crying baby.

Photo credit

Since there was no private room for us to retreat to, I took Babe-A outside. And since it was raining, I also took an umbrella.

Since the chapel doors were open and Babe-A wouldn’t stop fussing, I walked farther and farther away from the church. Since the nearby shops were closed, I walked a few blocks up to the restaurants. And since I wasn’t hungry and I didn’t need alcohol to help me stumble around on the streets, I settled for ice cream.

It was good.

But then we had to head back.

Here’s a picture of my shoes. Fun, right? But the small spike and the great height weren’t designed for girls who are walking on mushy lawns or puddle-covered cobblestones.

But Babe-A must not have thought that I was satisfactorily soaked from the rain, because she ambushed me from beneath our umbrella and poured my newly purchased bottle of water all over my chest and lap. And in an extra touch of defiance, she threw the lid on the ground. And then she threw the bottle.

And there, in my new dress, and my not-so-new-looking heels; amongst the puddles, and the mud, and the cobblestones; with my hands filled with my baby, my umbrella, and my coin purse; and with the ceremony going on without me, I did not bend down to pick that bottle up.

T is for ?

2011-10-26T21:03:00.000-02:00

Cliffs: I love my son. And we may be a little sports obsessed around here recently.

Yesterday when Entropy and I were playing with blocks, I handed him the letter "B," and asked him, "What letter is this?"

"Barbara," he said.

"D" was "Diego," "I" was "Ian," "J" was "Julia," "N" was "Nicholas," and "R" was "Riley" (these are all people in his class).

Tonight when I was skyping with my parents, I pulled out the blocks so that Entropy could show off. I chose the letter "T," thinking that he would say "Tiago," but I couldn't have been more proud when, instead, he yelled, "Go Rangers!"

"T" is also for "tangent": skype can be used as a verb now, right?

Super(Bad?) Nanny

2011-10-07T21:17:00.000-03:00

Cliffs: Maybe society's ideal nanny was named Poppins for a reason.

We found out earlier this semester that our nanny was being prosecuted for punching a woman so hard that she knocked out several of her teeth and allegedly damaged her hearing.

Part of me thinks that I should be concerned about this. The other part of me thinks it's kinda badass.

Babe-A's Belated Birthday Video: Part III

2011-09-30T22:23:00.000-03:00

Cliffs: Because a video of a giggling girl is more fun than a poem about a dead dove.

Dead Dove

2011-09-25T19:18:00.000-03:00

Cliffs: I write bad poems when I'm upset. If this has now upset you (due to form or content), may I suggest that you go watch some of Babe-A's birthday videos? There will be another happy one soon.

I took care of it
because nobody else did,
and because
I didn't want to give him time
to question.
Three years old and he summarized:
"Mommy, that's a mess."

The ants were moving in.
Nature's cleanup crew.

They say the dove
is a symbol
of peace,
of love.

But someone suggested
the mother
pushed it out of the nest.

As I scooped the body
into a plastic bag,
I looked up for traces
of mourning,
of guilt.

Two black stones stared back
unflinching.

Babe-A's Belated Birthday Video: Part II

2011-09-24T16:02:00.001-03:00

Entropy loves his little sister. He also loves to hug her, knock her over, tell her "no," pick her up, take pictures with her, take pictures of her, get her into trouble, run her stroller into pillars, and feed her gelato.

Babe-A's Belated Birthday Video: Part I

2011-09-18T11:27:00.004-03:00

Since I made videos for Entropy's first and second birthdays, I figured that I owe Babe-A at least two years' worth of footage as well. Here's part of year one.

Texas: The Lone Star Hate

2011-09-11T22:46:00.003-03:00

Cliffs: I really do love Texas, but it's in spite of, not because of this.

Since today is the 10th anniversary of 9/11, The New York Times opinion blog posted a piece by Simon Critchley called "The Cycle of Revenge." Because of this, and the recent GOP debate, I've been thinking a lot about violence.

The idea behind the NYT post is basically that violence breeds violence (nothing new there) and that the U.S. would have been better off if they had turned the other cheek and refrained from seeking the revenge that led them to war. (My feelings towards my country are so conflicted that I couldn't even use first person pronouns when I referred to it here.) The post is thought provoking--and fairly short. Read it.

The other "violence" related event that caught my attention came from the GOP debate earlier this week. Brian Williams began a question for Texas Governor, Rick Perry, by stating that Texas "has executed 234 death row inmates, more than any other governor in modern times," and before Williams could even finish the question, the audience was applauding. Perry went on to claim that he has never struggled to sleep at night over "the ultimate justice" these people received.

When discussing this disturbing moment, Laura Chapin of The U.S. News and World Report, noted that "Too often the death penalty is an instrument of revenge, not justice."

With all of the other problems the country has (many of which Critchley attributes to the U.S.'s reaction to 9/11), I'm not sure that we (no problem with the first person here) can handle another vengeful Texas Governor in the White House.

Tangent: Have I ever mentioned that I love Jon Stewart?

The Daily Show with Jon Stewart
Get More: Daily Show Full Episodes,Political Humor & Satire Blog,The Daily Show on Facebook

Less Than Half the Conversation in More Than Twice the Time!

2011-09-09T21:43:00.000-03:00

Cliffs: Kids are the kryptonite to adult conversation.

This summer (I still refer to the seasons as they happen in North America), a friend and I wanted to catch up, so we decided to get out the double strollers and take our kids for a walk.

This is what my side of the conversation looked like:

I saw pictures of your mud run, how was it?
I'm sorry, just a second.
Your water bottle is right here.

Uh, huh.

Sweetie, you can't stick a breadstick and a bunny in your mouth at the same time.
I'm sorry, I didn't hear that last part.

Daddy is golfing.

So, it was good?

I just finished a book about . . .
Your water bottle is right here.
. . . this guy who studies a group of Indians . . .

Be gentle with her.

Daddy is golfing.
We'll stop up here in the shade so you can pee.
. . . and they don't have any cases of cancer or diabetes . . .
Yes, we'll stop at that tree right there.
. . . all because of their diet and running.
Daddy is golfing.
Everybody runs, like, these ultra marathons all the time . . .
Okay, here, let me help you.
. . . and yet they don't suffer the same running injuries that we do.
You tell me, baby. Where's Daddy?
I know you don't want to go for a walk; we'll be going home soon, okay?
That's right. Daddy's golfing.
Anyways . . . it was a good book.

Babe-A's Room: We Actually Decorated

2011-09-04T17:30:00.000-03:00

Cliffs: Who's behind on the picture posting? Who? Who?

When Entropy was born, we pretty much did nothing to decorate his room. We bought him a beaded lion's head in Cape Town, and I had some colorful tiles framed for him in Istanbul, but none of that stuff made it onto a wall until we got to Brazil a year later.

Which brings me to something else I've been meaning to do for a year now: post pictures of Babe-A's room. So, in commemoration of her first birthday last week, here are the pics.

Bedding from Pottery Barn.

Pommel modeled this after a Pottery Barn piece I showed her. Plus
she added an owl. (I've mentioned this once). Isn't she amazing?

Pommel surprised me with this one. It's based on a New Zealander
craft I saw on Etsy. And yes, it gives away her real name.

When Pommel came to visit last year, she brought materials for us to create this chandelier (also

based on a Pottery Barn original). It took us (i.e. me) longer than it should have, but it's finally up.

C--your cute present is hanging up on the outside of her door--though it no longer has glass due to a particularly hard bang by Entropy (he's still earning his nickname). I just realized that I forgot to take a picture of it. I'll try to add one when it's lighter out and I'm not afraid to make a sound in the hallway.

And . . . here it is!

Barcelona with the Kids 2011: Part V (the End) of the “What Were We Thinking?” Tour

2011-08-20T23:59:00.004-03:00

Cliffs: We're moving to Barcelona the first chance we get.

I go ahead and buy Rick Steves' Snapshot Barcelona, which more than pays for itself with the following information:

Other people want to see the
Picasso Museum for free, too.

We can get into the Picasso Museum for free on the first Sunday of the month.
There is an amazing vegan restaurant called Juicy Jones that is just off La Rambla. K--the meat eater--is the one who suggests that we go there twice; I am happy to oblige.
Every Sunday at noon, locals gather in front of the Catedral for patriotic sardana dances. Steves explains that "For some, it's a highly symbolic, politically charged action representing Catalan unity--but for most, it's just a fun chance to kick up their heels." He also adds that "the rest of Spain mocks this lazy circle dance." K was a little underwhelmed when the first circle he saw was filled with small, slow, old people. But other circles soon formed, the music sped up, and younger people joined in as well. In the end we were both glad that we got to see it. (And now you can, too.)

Entropy waits patiently for the Picasso Musem

Inside the Picasso Museum, Babe-A dirties her diaper. The feces is liquidy, and since I'm carrying her in my arms, they are also now wet and dirty. This detracts, slightly, from the experience.

Babe-A blows on Daddy's neck

We love the metro. It has elevators, which means that we--or, let's be honest, K--doesn't have to carry the stroller up and down a lot of stairs.

By the second day we're looking online for international schools (i.e. future jobs) in the area.

I'm thrilled to be eating gazpacho again.

Entropy gives the vegan
restaurant two thumbs up.

I think I'll be thrilled to be eating Spanish candy again, but after a few pieces, I can tell that this is a phase of the past. I'm a little bit saddened by this, but it's probably a good thing since--if you've read any of my recent posts--you know that I have too many sugary habits.

Our luggage--minus the stroller

We cross paths with a group of former students at the airport, we're afraid we might run into two recent graduates who are also in the city, and we just miss some Brazilian friends that we worked with in Istanbul.

I want to relearn Spanish. I can understand quite a bit, but I hesitate to speak, and I still find myself mixing in a lot of Portuguese. When a woman helps me with the stroller, I stammer, "Obrigada. Uh . . . thank you. Uh . . . gracias."

We visit the crowded man-made beach.

I finally get to shop at MANGO, where I get three dresses at 50% off.

I love, love, love Gaudi.

La Sagrada Familia

After talking to Entropy and showing him various pictures of La Sagrada Familia, I'm proud that he recognizes the building in person. K is impressed by the basilica, and even though I've seen it before, there has been a lot of progress in the last ten years, and it leaves me a little breathless, too. We promise each other that we're coming back when it's finished, though we'll probably have to make a few trips (or a move) before then.

Modeled after trees, the pillars are made
from different shapes and stones.

The ceiling.

The Nativity Façade

Waiting out the rain.

We also love Park Guell. As we enter the park, rain drives us to seek shelter with a bunch of high school students. We're in a cute covered area, there are men playing instruments, and I try my first and last mojito flavored potato chips.

Benches at Park Guell

We finally get our first (and second, and third) family photo of the trip.

Family Photo #1: looking up at a mirror.

Family Photo #2: taken by a kind stranger.
(I'm blaming the rain for my extra-bad hair.)

Family Photo #3: taken by the same stranger
who now realizes that we are a family of four.

Mt. Tibidabo: "Years ago, when I was
backpacking across Western Europe . . ."

We tour Camp Nou, the soccer stadium, and Entropy is disappointed that he doesn't get to play on the field with his new ball from the gift shop. K tells him that he'll have to work really hard if he ever wants the opportunity.

Chapel inside Camp Nou: it's right between the locker rooms and the tunnel onto the field.

Camp Nou

Outdoor musicians apparently love to play Brazilian songs.

Pisa with the Kids 2011: Part IV of the “What Were We Thinking?” Tour

2011-07-30T23:35:00.004-03:00

Cliffs: The stop in Pisa is short and beautiful, but my mouth misses Florence.

The Leaning Tower of Pisa has undergone a lot of restoration, and it's beautiful and open for business.

Entropy attempts the standard pose

It's all about perspective

K informs me that a young, Dutch tourist committed suicide here a few months ago, shortly after the Tower reopened.

We consider climbing up, but babies and young kids are not allowed, and it wouldn't be as much fun to take turns and go up individually.

The best three in our family of four

K and I do, however, take turns eating, walking around with the kids, and doing laundry with a family of four. It only hits me later that we are also a family of four. I don't know how this happened, so I put on my headphones, watch the clothes spin in circles, and try not to freak out.

I'm listening to The Know-It-All, and A.J. Jacobs includes this quote from Ian Flemming: "Never say 'no' to adventures" (Chitty Chitty Bang Bang).

I realize that being part of a family of four presents me with daily adventures. This--and perhaps the hypnotic whirl of the clothes--helps me feel better. (It's all about perspective.)

K reports back to the laundry mat and briefs me on the awful lunch he's had. I consider his information and retreat to McDonald's, where I have to pay extra for ketchup, and the fries aren't great, but at least the bathroom is clean and the food is what I expect.

Mischief

It's time to eat again, but Babe-A needs to sleep and K needs to watch tennis, so Entropy and I have an impromptu dinner date downstairs.

We share the restaurant with only one or two other families, and when my unthawed and reheated pizza arrives, I understand why. But Entropy is good company, and the waiters bring him a free baseball hat.

The next morning, I almost forgive the hotel restaurant for the frozen pizza when they serve us our best meal in Pisa: a pillowy chocolate cereal with chocolate cream inside. I recently found this similar cereal here in Brazil (obviously imported), but it has a milky inside, which is just not as good.

The best thing about the version I found in Brazil is the box. It seems ordinary before you open it, but look how it closes up!

Since Pisa was a short stop and the food was mostly awful, I'm taking this time to log the different gelato flavors I had on the trip: coffee, tiramisu (the two most repeated flavors), hazelnut, Nutella, whiskey, caramel, ginger with cinnamon, espresso chocolate chip, toffee, raspberry, strawberry, passion fruit, and lemon. I owe the non-brown, fruity flavors to generous spoonfuls from K and Entropy.

Our flight to Barcelona departs from Rome, so we leave Pisa in the morning and take the coastal highway past vineyards, orchards, tree farms, and sunflower fields.

I Heart Jeni's

2011-07-29T09:32:00.001-03:00

Cliffs: I have a new hobby. At least until school starts next week.

The BFF introduced me to Jeni's Ice Cream in October, and ever since, I have been dreaming about the day I can return to Ohio for a second serving.

They do ship their ice cream, but this is not a sustainable option for me, and neither is flying to Ohio every time I get a craving. So I was thrilled when the BFF and the Mr. (now a Dr.!) sent me Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams at Home for my birthday.

This meant, of course, that I had to buy an ice cream maker (Jeni recommends this one, and since nothing in my house matches anyways, I opted for the pretty red version).

My mom put together a cute gift basket of new measuring cups and other ingredients I would need to get started, and I've been trying out recipes ever since.

Jeni's signature (and possibly my favorite) flavor, is Salty Caramel, so that was the inaugural batch. Some things boiled over at one point, I had to guess when I was supposed to add in the vanilla, and my Cuisinart hadn't arrived, so I was borrowing one of those larger machines that require ice and salt, but in spite of all that, I think it turned out pretty well. I will definitely make this one again.

passion fruit and new machine

Back in Brazil, I decided to make some Passion Fruit Frozen Yogurt for K. We have completely different tastes in ice cream (he likes fruit and I like brown: coffee, caramel, chocolate, etc.), but I do enjoy fresh passion fruit, and it's something that we usually have at home anyway, so this was an easy choice.

Everything went perfectly for this batch: no huge messes, no major mess-ups, and no ambiguity in the recipe. I still would not choose this flavor over something brown, but it was good, and all of the Brazilians who tried it seemed impressed. This is one that I'll make again for K and future get-togethers with the in-laws.

the Cuisinart's first batch

Because I had some leftover yogurt (the recipe calls for a quart and I'm dealing with grams, so there was some guessing going on at the grocery store), I decided to take one for the team and make another fruit yogurt. Jeni's recipe is for lemon, but what the Brazilians call limão is really lime. I don't know if I've ever really seen the "yellow lemons" at the grocery store.

But green lemons were just the beginning of the changes. I started making this at night, after the kids were already asleep, so by the time I realized that we were out of white sugar, I was already too lazy to go to the store. I think I read somewhere in Jeni's book that you can substitute brown sugar for white, and that you can also use honey for up to 25% of the required sugar, so that's what I resorted to.

In the end, it tasted like creamy key-lime pie, but the warm brown shade kept throwing me off. I think I can do better (i.e. follow the recipe more closely) if I ever make this again. But even with the green lemons and the brown coloring, we still ate it all.

QCC chilling in the ice bath

After two fruity flavors, I decided to indulge in something that was intentionally dark: Jeni's Queen City Cayenne.

I've written about my love of spicy chocolate before, and I was hoping to make this recipe a little on the hot side, so in addition to the required cayenne, I used a mixture of dark chocolate and Chuao's Spicy Maya Chocolate Bar. I also used coffee instead of water to help give it a darker, richer taste--something Jeni does for her Darkest Ice Cream in the World flavor. I loved this substitution, but K could taste the coffee and immediately lost interest.

Queen City Cayenne

Then, just because we're on vacation for two more days and I want to try as many recipes as I can, I had to make some Pineapple Piment D'Espelette Sorbet. Of course, I can't find Piment D'Espelette here, so Jeni says I can use sweet paprika and a pinch of cayenne.

sorbet mixed and ready to chill

The sorbet was a lot easier to make, and I love the colors. The flavor reminded me of those chili covered mango lollipops that my hispanic students love. I liked it. I was hoping that the pineapple flavor would be a bit stronger, tarter, or saltier, but some of this may have to do with the pineapple I used.

Pineapple Piment D'Espelette Sorbet

Tangent: If you like dark, spicy chocolate, you should really try the Firecracker bar by Chuao. It has chipotle, salt, and--get this--popping candy. This last bit may sound a bit trashy or childish, but I think that the blogger from Eatologies is right on when (s)he says, "Mullet wearers everywhere take note, if pop rocks can gain class without losing the party, there’s hope for you too."

Florence with the Kids 2011: Part III of the “What Were We Thinking?” Tour

2011-07-23T23:43:00.002-03:00

Our hotel in Florence is beautiful and is in a nice location just outside of the city.

I get up early and have a glorious run along the river.

K puts too much shower gel in the tub before turning on the jets (our tub has jets!) and the kids get the first real bubble bath of their lives.

The hotel breakfast is delicious, the cappuccino comes in a large gorgeous mug, and by the third morning the observant waiter practically has a cup waiting for me.

The only negative thing about our hotel is the fact that it is also housing two douchey douche bag doctors from California. This couple spends the entire shuttle ride talking about their education, their practice, and their credentials. When someone asks their teenage son a question, they answer for him. When Entropy smiles and waves at them in the pool, they make an effort to ignore him.

The second time we drive back to the hotel, one of the roads is blocked. The area is full of walled-in little one way streets, and though we know that our hotel is less than a kilometer around the corner, we have no idea how to get there now. We are very tempted to drive the wrong way and hope that no one comes along, but K and his iPhone finally find a longer, more legal route.

While admiring an expensive jewelry store window, we hear a mother advise her young daughter, "You'll need to find a rich boyfriend."

I place a bag of newly purchased scarves in the stroller with Entropy. As we pass through one of Florence's outdoor markets, he is singing loudly and gleefully drawing a lot of attention. We pass a crazy looking shirtless man doing something between a push up and a breakdance in the middle of the street. Entropy starts asking me where my bag is. It takes me a few moments to realize that the scarves are gone. We retrace our steps, but I remember this passage from our travel book: "Assume any commotion is a thief-created distraction."

I go back and buy more scarves. As I head though the market again, I spot the crazy shirtless man who is now dressed, sipping a bottle of water, and chatting with a local vendor. I know I may be paranoid, but as we lock eyes, I really want to curse at him.

A lot of motos.

We have reservations to see Michelangelo's David at the Accademia, but we're anxious because we are two hours late. I'm not sure if the attendants are very kind or very inattentive, but we are very lucky, because we get to skip the long line and go in without trouble.

While using the bathroom at the Accademia, I read this: "If you love your man and you have class, don't write his name where you wipe your @$$." (Most of the bathrooms we've seen so far are covered in graffiti.)

The next day, at K's request, we go to the Galileo Museum. This place does not have a line, but it does have some weird medical equipment, lots of thermometers, scales, and telescopes, three of Galileo's fingers and one of his teeth.

The line at the Galileo Museum.

We have the first and second best gelato of the trip (same day, different places). We also have Ben and Jerry's (the previous day); this feels blasphemous but tastes divine.

(Entropy shares his gelato--the second best of the trip--with Babe-A.)

We explore the other side of the river and also have the best Italian lunch of the trip. We eat outside, the waitress brings Entropy a bus full of crayons, a pigeon bothers a girl at the table next to us, and the day is so beautiful that the ambiance is barely even disturbed when the restaurant plays "Who Let the Dogs Out."

We go to an amazing restaurant that K reads about online. It's 7 PM and we're the first to arrive, which is good since we don't have reservations and there seems to be only one table left. We have the best pizza of the trip, and we're grateful for the combination of our kids and our American dinner time, because by the time we leave, parking is impossible and the restaurant is packed.

We take a few minutes to let Entropy explore the cutest little toy store ever. I want to live in Florence so that I can shop here once a month and slowly build up his collection.

I buy more scarves, this time from a Brazilian.

Living in Florence would be bad for my budget and my waistline. It would take a lot of runs by the river to counteract these eating habits.

I see a Texas Rangers World Series shirt and a Mavs Championship shirt in the same day. This makes me smile.

Venice with the Kids 2011: Part II of the “What Were We Thinking?” Tour

2011-07-20T21:47:00.002-03:00

Even though we leave Rome in high spirits, it is still a long ride to Venice. The highways and signs are all wonderful (as they should be, considering the high toll rates), and there are plenty of places to stop for food and gas along the way. We appreciate this fact since Entropy makes frequent bathroom requests and we can't risk more poopy pants.

Things I would like to do during the road trip:

have multi-sentence conversations with K
write blog posts
listen to audiobooks and podcasts
play Angry Birds
enjoy the scenery

Things I actually do during the road trip:

answer repetitive questions
try to come up with creative ways to deflect or respond to repetitive questions
turn around to clean dirty hands
turn around to clean dirty mouths
turn around to pick up dropped toys
turn around to pick up dropped bottles
turn around to pick up dropped food
listen to the radio
listen to a crying baby
enjoy the scenery

I discover my new favorite Brazilian song on Italian radio.

Waiting for the train.

Our hotel is on the mainland, so we don't actually go to Venice until the following morning. We take the hotel shuttle to the train station and then pay a total of 30 euros to take the fast train into the city. On the way back we take the slow train, which costs a total of 6 euros and isn't slow at all. True, we don't have the cushy, air conditioned chairs, but Entropy seems to enjoy clinging to his pull-down seat in the stuffy compartment in between cars.

Venice does not stink, but it is extremely hot. I'm happy to have the breezy new dress I'd packed--until I spot another girl who is also wearing it.

Who wore it best?

Babe-A loves the little dry breadsticks that come with our meal.

We take the public boat down the Grand Canal and eat gelato on St. Mark's Square (where Entropy enjoys chasing pigeons), but then we ditch the tourists and lose ourselves in the residential parts of the city.

A gelato-fueled pigeon chaser.

To escape the heat, we stop at a small, empty cafe and have lemon popsicles on a licorice candy stick. The employees are friendly, the setting is calm, and I don't feel like I'm being ripped off.

K initially talks about doing a gondola ride, and I'm game, but after stalking a kayaking tour group, running around a playground with the kids, and mostly having the streets to ourselves, we don't want to return to the touristy rush.

We think we're at the right spot to meet our shuttle, but when we're still alone fifteen minutes after our scheduled rendezvous, we're forced to reconsider. We walk around a cute plaza, cut through a gorgeous park and buy sandwiches before tracking down the next bus.

While I'm looking for our shuttle, an Italian lady stops to ask me for directions.

Rome with the Kids 2011: Part I of the “What Were We Thinking?” Tour

2011-07-13T09:33:00.004-03:00

The Journey
On our second of three flights in 24 hours, Babe-A had a couple minutes of fussiness, so a grandma a couple of rows in front of me came over and took her from me, saying that if the baby was going to cry, she might as well cry with her because she had six kids and ten grandkids. I sort of let the grandma take her while K glared at me from across the aisle.

Babe-A on day 3 of this outfit.

The Luggage
We tried to pack light: one regular suitcase and one carry-on sized suitcase for two adults and two kids and two weeks.

Our regular suitcase didn’t arrive, and the carry-on sized bag contained only diapers, shoes, my toiletries, two t-shirts for K, and an extra t-shirt or two for Entropy. No clothes for me or Babe-A. Oh, but fortunately we did have laundry detergent.

Evenings saw me washing all of my clothes in the sink and wishing that I had pajamas and a washing machine (or that suitcase I'd packed).

Reasons I did not run immediately to the nearest Mango or Zara:

People kept convincing me that my suitcase would be at the hotel when I came back in the evening.
Our hotel was in a residential area farther from the city, so by the time I got back to my room and discovered that I still had no clothes, it was already too late and troublesome to go find an open store.
We wanted to sightsee, and the inside of clothing stores doesn’t count as sightseeing for K.
My baby and toddler don't have a lot of patience for trying on clothes or entertaining themselves quietly while mommy does (see below).

Trevi Fountain

Things were getting so bad that I started considering how I might put a youthful spin on the old lady dress in the hotel gift shop.

On day 3, upon hearing that our suitcase was at the airport but was scheduled to go back to Barcelona later that evening (this still makes no sense to us), we packed the kids in the car and rushed off to claim our bag. K went in to get it while I stayed outside with the kids, but after more than an hour, the airlines still couldn’t find the bag that they’d just told us was there.

The Rest of the Trip
Entropy sits next to a black man on the metro and starts pointing and saying, “Look, mommy. Black. Black face.”

Babe-A already has expensive, flashy taste. She spends an entire train ride playing with a stranger’s large gold bracelet and reaching for her sparkly nail polish.

While visiting the Four Rivers fountain in Piazza Navona, Entropy takes off his shirt, splashes his hands in the water, and acts like he wants to get in.

Four Rivers Fountain with armadillo on the bottom right.

This fountain includes a sculpture of an armadillo that makes me miss Texas.

Because we’re low on supplies of all sorts, we make two attempts to go to the Carrefour near our hotel, but the store is closed both times. These Europeans act like they have better things to do with their evenings and weekends.

We finally give up on our suitcase and go shopping for clothes. It’s been a long day, everyone has new outfits except for me, and K has the two kids snacking outside on a bench while I’m trying on a few things. Entropy tells K that he needs to poop. K asks him once if he can wait, and Entropy says he can. When Entropy asks again a couple of minutes later, K comes into the store to tell me to hurry. I immediately change back into my 5-day skirt and take my finds to the counter. While I’m swiping my credit card, Entropy starts crying. You know the rest . . . there’s poop in his pants. Poor little guy. K takes Entropy to the nearest Burger King where he scrubs out poopy underwear in the sink (poor big guy), but at least we have brand new shorts for him to change into.

The clothing store that delays the bathroom stop only has one changing room that is supposed to be used, simultaneously, by everyone. I think this slowed me down, so I’m blaming the owner for Entropy’s accident.

Colosseum

We try to dress Entropy in a way that won’t embarrass him 10 years from now, but he insists on tucking his shirt into his underwear and wearing his beach hat. We give up and let him.

The people are kind. Everyone wants to help us with the stroller, give us their seat on the metro, and play with the kids.

We eat gelato and pizza at least once a day.

For three of our four nights in Rome, K brings back a pizza and Nutella focaccia for dinner. Nutella focaccia is basically thin pizza crust with a bucket of chocolate spread on top. Heavenly.

Entropy loves the Pantheon and the Trevi Fountain, though he’s disillusioned when he doesn’t get to retrieve the coins we tossed in the water.

The Alter in St. Peter's Basilica

It’s 9:55 and our reservation for the Vatican is at 10:00. We’re waiting at a crosswalk, and when the light turns green, K jerks our new stroller into motion and bumps Entropy onto the street where he bangs his head and begins to scream.

K is a little disappointed in the Colosseum and the Sistine Chapel, but impressed by the grandeur of St. Peter’s.

The Roman Forum is difficult off-roading for the stroller. We discover later that things would’ve been easier if we would’ve locked the wheels.

The day we leave Rome, we get a call saying that our luggage is back at the airport. We buy a few snacks at Carrefour (which is finally open!), pick up our bag, exchange our rental car for one that has a functioning A.C., and head off to Venice singing.

Mother/Daughter Fail

2011-06-14T21:30:00.002-03:00

Cliffs: I have some apologizing to do.

MOTHERING FAIL
It started with Entropy's school agenda, which I hadn't read in a while. When I finally picked it up today, I learned this:

June 1

Dear Parents,

We pasted orange paper on the Very Hungry Caterpillar's oranges.

Entropy said that he doesn't like the crackers that are sent for snack.

June 2

Dear Parents,

We painted using a spray and had music class.

June 3

(in Portuguese)

Entropy doesn't like the crackers that are sent for snack. Today he only had crackers and juice, and he cried. On June 1 I wrote that he didn't like the crackers.

This teacher must think that I'm the most insensitive mother ever, and the fact that I forgot about the little open house his school hosted last weekend doesn't exactly disprove her theory.

DAUGHTERING FAIL
I had a quick question to ask my BFF, so I called her cell and suddenly found myself talking to my mother.

Theirs are the two numbers I dial most frequently, and it's actually not the first time that I've accidentally called one when I was hoping to reach the other.

But since I hadn't talked with Pommel in a while, I tried to play off the casual, "I was just checking-in" call.

I think she suspected something; she asked twice if everything was okay.

How horrible of a daughter am I that 1.) my mother gets suspicious when I call her, and 2.) she's right to be suspicious?

So sad.

I'm sorry!

Some Recent Reads I'd Recommend

2011-06-02T23:52:00.004-03:00

Cliffs: I like good books like I like good food--a lot.

Because I haven't had the time or inspiration to blog about anything else, I'm documenting some of my favorite books from the past six months or so. I've definitely been on a non-fiction kick.

1. I've always loved Tina Fey, and this book has only increased my ardor. Fey discusses her childhood, motherhood, SNL, 30 Rock, and feminism. I actually got the audiobook, which was great because I got to listen to Fey's voice and interpretation, but was bad because I couldn't underline or slow down during my favorite parts. I enjoyed this book so much I'm actually considering buying a hard copy. Fey is funny, insightful, confident and self-deprecating. If I could be any celebrity, I'm pretty sure I'd want to be Tina Fey.

Some of my favorite quotes:

A few months after our friendly chat about kids (and my condescending remarks about New York), Mrs. Palin told conservative filmmaker John Ziegler that Katie Couric and I had exploited and profited by her family. But I know better than to respond to attacks in the media. Although if I were to respond, I would probably just say, "Nice reality show."

But I think the first real change in women’s body image came when JLo turned it butt-style. That was the first time that having a large-scale situation in the back was part of mainstream American beauty. Girls wanted butts now. Men were free to admit that they had always enjoyed them. And then, what felt like moments later, boom—Beyoncé brought the leg meat. A back porch and thick muscular legs were now widely admired. And from that day forward, women embraced their diversity and realized that all shapes and sizes are beautiful. Ah ha ha. No. I’m totally messing with you. All Beyonce and JLo have done is add to the laundry list of attributes women must have to qualify as beautiful. Now every girl is expected to have Caucasian blue eyes, full Spanish lips, a classic button nose, hairless Asian skin with a California tan, a Jamaican dance hall ass, long Swedish legs, small Japanese feet, the abs of a lesbian gym owner, the hips of a nine-year-old boy, the arms of Michelle Obama, and doll tits. The person closest to actually achieving this look is Kim Kardashian, who, as we know, was made by Russian scientists to sabotage our athletes.

In case you ever find yourself at a magazine cover shoot (and you might, because Snooki and I have, so anything can happen!), let me tell you what to expect.

. . .

Most photographers have some kind of verbal patter going on when they shoot: "Great. Turn to me. Big smile. Less shark eyes. Have fun with it. Not like that." Some photographers are compulsively effusive. "Beautiful. Amazing. Gorgeous! Ugh, so gorgeous!" they yell at shutter speed. If you are anything less than insane, you will realize this is not sincere. It's hard to take because it's more positive feedback than you've received in your entire life thrown at you in fifteen seconds. It would be like going jogging while someone rode next to you in a slow-moving car, yelling, "Yes! You are Carl Lewis! You're breaking a world record right now. Amazing! You are fast. You're going very fast, yes!"

2. I first saw Malcolm Gladwell in a TED Talk about spaghetti sauce and Pepsi; it was love at first sight. If you like Freakonomics, you'll like Gladwell. I'm currently listening to another one of his books, Outliers, and it has been equally interesting. After listening to Gladwell, my next project is to decide what I want to become an expert in and start logging my 10,000 hours. No biggie.

3. My brother recommended this one to me, and I absolutely loved it. Bryson talks about his experience hiking the Appalachian Trail, a place I've never given much thought. But he is hilarious and informative, and I'm rushing some of his other books to the top of my "must read" list.

A few quotes:

For all I knew I could be stumbling into some kind of helpless preconfusional state characterized by the fear on the part of the sufferer that he may be stumbling into some kind of helpless preconfusional state. That's the trouble with losing your mind; by the time it's gone, it's too late to get it back.

Black bears rarely attack. But here's the thing. Sometimes they do. . . . If they want to kill you and eat you, they can, and pretty much whenever they want. That doesn't happen often, but - and here is the absolutely salient point - once would be enough.

This is a disease for the person who wants to experience it all. The symptoms include, but are not limited to, headaches, fatigue, fever, chills, shortness of breath, dizziness, shooting pains in the extremities, cardiac irregularities, facial paralysis, muscle spasms, severe mental impairment, loss of control of bodily functions, and - hardly surprising, really - chronic depression.

4. After listening to Rakoff's stories on This American Life, I was really anticipating this one (look closely at the cover). But while I appreciate some of Rakoff's comments on art and writing, I was a little disappointed in the book as a whole. Somehow Rakoff's voice makes him more sympathetic (I read and listened to most of this book); in print he seems condescending. I still liked it, though. Rakoff is funny and intelligent, and perhaps the problem is that his vocabulary is too vast for a simpleton like me.

Stick it to Your Family

2011-05-06T20:36:00.000-03:00

Cliffs: . . . or maybe that should read, "Stick Your Family to it." Either way, I have a new game to play on the way to school.

Is this a trend in the U.S. (or anywhere else) right now? Because I see these everywhere.

I was holding off on this post in hopes of documenting a greater variety of craziness, but I'm settling on this sampling for now.

I think you'll get the idea.

Man, small boy, medium girl, small boy on skateboard, woman, and dog (in color!).

Man, woman, small girl, medium girl, medium boy, and dog (in color!).

White woman, red heart, and white man.

Dog, cat, woman, man, cat, and bird (in color!).

Old man with cane, old woman with crazy hat, young boy, woman, and man (in color!).

Man, woman, girl, boy, and dog (in color!).

Green man, pink woman, blue boy with soccer ball, and smaller blue boy (picking his nose?).

Woman, heart, man, larger woman, and smaller man.

Man, woman, young boy, younger boy, and hearts. (All in color!)

Man with tie, woman with flower on dress, boy with lightning on shirt, and girl with heart on shirt.

Woman with shopping bag and man with glasses and laptop.

Man with hat and woman with bangs.

Unisex baby, young boy, woman and man. (How long does one keep a baby sticker?)

Green man, red woman, 7 white dogs, green turtle, and blue fish bowl.

The worst image quality, but still my favorite: cat, cat, woman, cat, and cat.

(I took all but the penultimate photo, which was taken by a friend.)

Website Window Shopping

2011-04-28T22:22:00.009-03:00

Cliffs: I'm in the mood to buy things.

The last two weeks I've been indulging in online window shopping for crap I don't need. Somewhat expensive crap. Crap that categorizes me as one of those white people with the unique taste of millions. But still, I find it oh-so-pretty.

Fossil Key-Per Messenger Bag

Ray-Ban Wayfarers

Anthropologie Dress

An Epic Fail of a Drive

2011-04-21T22:25:00.001-03:00

Cliffs: K and I have a new pact to never drive outside of Sao Paulo on the first or last day of a Brazilian holiday.

The plan: leave Sao Paulo at 11 AM, drive an hour to a colleague's country house, eat lunch, chat, go for a walk, dip in the pool, return home.

The reality: leave Sao Paulo at 11 AM, drive 15 minutes and hit major traffic, spend two hours in the car, realize that we're not even half way there, cancel plans with the colleague, wait in traffic another hour before we can exit, order a pizza, pick it up, and still make it home within 30 minutes of turning around.

I guess no one wants to stay in the city, and I can't blame them.

The exact road we took today. This photo was taken before we left the house, but these people were definitely still in traffic when we gave up and went home. Photo credit

So, since I couldn't eat, stroll, or swim, I took pictures.

A good 10% of cars had a blanket, towel, or shirt covering the passenger side window. This guy had an umbrella.

This poor guy had no umbrella, and he was hungry, thirsty, tired, and in need of a bathroom. I finally fed him some cherry tomatoes that still had a little bit of dirt on them.

Here you can only see two, but by the time we exited, there were dozens of people standing next to their cars.

Entropy wasn't the only one in need of a bathroom.

Babe-A was also sleepy, but she still managed to make her brother laugh hysterically when she pulled the blanket down onto her head.

Yet another person in need of a bathroom.

"Retorno" means "happiness" in Portuguese--at least, today it did.

Some Spoken Word Poetry and Some Words That Were Spoken

2011-03-29T21:33:00.004-03:00

This month I’ve come across two separate references to spoken word poetry: Sarah Kay’s recent TED Talk--which includes and discusses poetry--and a link posted by the BFF to Kate Makkai’s poem, “Pretty.”

“Pretty” is smart, tough, and verging on the stereotypically “indignant” poetry that Kay mentions at TED. But, as Kay would put it, “I felt that.” I think most girls can relate to it on some level, and I know that I related to it both as a mother of a daughter and as a girl who dreams of having at least one (more?) aesthetic procedure in the future.

Kate Makkai performs "Pretty":

Sarah Kay has some deep, universal poems as well (her performance at TED, for example, is a bit more serious), but some of my favorites include the quirky ones below.

Sarah Kay performs "Brother":

Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye explain how they met--and some other stuff:

But while I admire these poets and occasionally enjoy reading good poetry, I don’t think I’ve ever attempted writing a legitimate poem myself. I wrote plenty of flippant amateur ones during dull classes and staff meetings, and the BFF and I even coauthored a bunch of poems and performed them for our high school talent show tryouts. But the judges didn’t seem to know what to do with us, so instead of letting us compete, they asked us to host the show. (I’m still not sure how to take this.)

I remembered a few lines from our “act,” and while my first thought was to wait until April and post these during National Poetry Month, a second look has convinced me that they’re really better suited for March.

“Tree”

(performer wears black clothing and a beret, sits cross-legged on the stage and taps a bongo drum)

Tree, (ba, da, da, da, da)
Oh Tree, (ba, da, da)
How you look at me. (ba)
With your leaves so green, (ba, da, da)
And bark so brown, (ba, da, da)
How, I want to cut you down. (BAM, BAM, BAM, BAM)

“State Trooper”
(inspired by real life events)

State Trooper,
You are a party pooper.
You tell me to move my car off the grass,
I tell you to kiss my @$$.

“Semi”

This one was long and mostly forgettable, but there was one line about trucks running over dogs and other small creatures, smashing and crushing their innocent features. A true gem.

On a cuter, happier note, I'll leave you with Sarah Kay performing "Providence":

6 - 2 = 3 + angry

2011-03-29T20:27:00.003-03:00

Cliffs: This is me still not letting go.

The brownies arrived Sunday night. One box of six for me. One box of six for K. I wrote my name on one box and K's name on the other--partially to identify which flavors were which, and partially to stake out my territory.

I've eaten a brownie a day since Monday, but this afternoon my box contained only three.

The Politics of Poo

2011-03-09T21:55:00.004-03:00

Cliffs: Everyone poops. (And I have the maturity of a prepubescent boy.)

At school, the major restrooms all include a large, separate handicapped bathroom. The handicapped bathroom is nice because it’s an entirely separate room within the bathroom, it’s spacious, and it even includes its own sink.

Teachers generally rule this private throne, but the rule is unwritten and has recently been challenged by some ambitious students.

Earlier this week I became a sounding board for an older member of the administration who wanted to plot a resurgence against the trespassing teenagers. I will probably not be posting signs or joining her campaign to reclaim our territory, but I do understand why she’s upset.

The extra privacy of the handicapped bathroom is a key to maintaining one’s dignity; funny bathroom noises rarely up one’s credibility as a professional.

Faced with the awkwardness of sharing a confined space with fellow urinators, defecators and windbreakers, people often resort to strategies that are just as embarrassing as the smells and sounds they’re employed to avoid.

A few examples:

The Scout and Retreat: this is most effective when carrying a mug or food storage device you can pretend to wash until the coast clears.
The Waiting Game, in which you cower in your stall until all persons who witnessed your entrance and can link you to the auditory and olfactory crimes have left the room.
The Immigrant: in order to avoid people with whom you have frequent contact, this strategy requires you to procure a bathroom far from your natural habitat.
Flush and Drop: If done correctly, everything comes out and goes down in one smooth motion. Timing is imperative, but this can be extremely effective as the noise of the flush masks most bodily noises, and the speed of elimination limits lingering smells.

Don’t pretend you haven’t tried at least one of these. Because no matter what the social or professional hierarchy, we’re all the same level when we’re sitting on the pot.

Tangent: Freakonomics Radio did a recent show titled “The Power of Poop.” Looks like feces could be the next big medical breakthrough. Some physicians have even started performing trans-poo-sions.

Making it On My Own

2011-02-28T20:38:00.005-03:00

Cliffs: Necessity is the mother of confection.

I love good food.

(Yes. This is quite possibly the most generic statement ever.)

But while there are gastronomical advantages to living abroad, it can also be challenging and expensive to find some of my favorites. So I've had to resort to cooking.

This summer K and I experimented with Indian food; he made chicken tikka masala, and I made palak paneer, naan, and rice. So good.

I've been tweaking this pesto recipe--which I've been known to eat four days in a row. And I've just about done gone and perfected my salsa.

I've also been desperate enough to try baking brownies and cinnamon rolls. I can't find quality baking chocolate here, so the brownies weren't that special, but the cinnamon rolls were so decadent that I felt sick after two of them--that's perfection.

And now I'm gearing up for a new challenge: baby food. Babe-A will be starting solids this month, and I have yet to find a baby cereal here that doesn't include sugar as one of the top three ingredients. I mashed fruits and vegetables for Entropy all the time--and Babe-A will eventually get that, too-- but it sure was nice to have instant brown rice cereal on hand.

Looks like this will be a job for the Internet and my Vita-Mix. I really, really love that machine.

Tangent: When did Disney start making produce?

"Do the thing you fear, and the death of fear is certain."

2011-01-31T23:24:00.000-02:00

Cliffs: I'm trying to give myself a pep talk.

I recently discovered the site Expat Women,whose goal--you guessed it--is to help expat women. They’re celebrating their fourth birthday this month (congratulations!), and I enjoyed looking through their various stories, links, and interviews.

My favorite piece so far was an interview they did with Janine Hall, a woman who left her career in fashion to open up her own surf spa retreat in Bali. You can see pictures of her place here.

Who’s in?

In addition to loving the whole travel/surf/spa/fitness thing, I was also inspired by some of her story. Hall explains that she was encouraged to pursue her new dream when a friend asked her "If fear were not a factor, what would you do?"

Isn't that great?

I don’t think that I live in fear, but when I ask myself this question, I have to admit that things would look a little different. Maybe I’d approach more people, maybe I’d get out more, maybe I’d quit my job, maybe I’d try to earn a living by writing, and maybe--just maybe--I’d have another kid. (Eh--maybe not.)

But speaking of kids, shortly after Entropy was born, I read Take the Risk: Learning to Identify, Choose, and Live with Acceptable Risks by Ben Carson. In his book, Carson lays out his means of analyzing risk. Basically he just asks himself four questions:

What is the best thing that can happen if I take this risk.

What is the worst thing that can happen if I take this risk.

What is the best thing that can happen if I don’t take this risk?

What is the worst thing that can happen if I don’t take this risk?

I liked this logical approach to a process that’s so easily riddled with emotion. And when I analyze situations in this way my fear is usually diminished in light of what I have to gain.

So I’ve been feeling good and seeing inspiration everywhere I look. It almost makes me wish I still had that red t-shirt my grandma gave me with the words "Ain't Skeered" screen printed on the front. (Hey, it brought me good luck on the SATs. Don't judge.) Though maybe I should be less selective in what I pay attention to and should heed This American Life’s recent cautionary tale of Duke Fightmaster. After all, his dream led to bankruptcy and years of misery, and all he wanted to do was replace Conan O’Brien.

Potty Training and Portuguese Translating

2011-01-27T22:17:00.003-02:00

Cliffs: I still can't believe that I'm the mother of a little person.

Over the past couple of weeks Entropy has been showing some significant developmental gains. I don’t know why this is so exciting--that’s what babies are supposed to do, right?--but it is.

For instance:
His vocabulary is increasing in both English and Portuguese, and he even switches between languages depending on who he’s speaking to.

So when the cake fell off of the table he told K, “O bolo caiu no chão,” and he told me, “O bolo caiu no floor.”

After Entropy and I had been playing in the park and talking about the monkey in the tree, he ran over to tell K about the macaco.

He’s even started calling me “mommy” sometimes, instead of just “mamae.” (He also thinks it’s funny to use my first name or call me “babes,” like K does.).

More milestones:
Entropy has been talking the potty talk for a while now. On our trip to Maragogi, he walked into the aisle of the plane and announced repeatedly that he was going to go coco. K got up to accompany him to the bathroom, but Entropy insisted that he was going to go by himself. This sequence replayed itself multiple times at increasing volumes for the mixed amusement and annoyance of the other passengers. (Entropy seemed to enjoy all of the attention, but he never actually went to the bathroom.)

During our two weeks on the beach, however, Entropy wore very few diapers during the day, so he started getting in the habit of asking and actually going xixi and coco. This week he went both xixi and coco in the potty several times with very few accidents.

And to be honest, potty training couldn’t have come soon enough, because Entropy was developing an obsessive interest in examining the poop in his diapers. He once threw a small fit because I threw away his diaper before he could analyze its contents. Another time he got way too excited about spotting some flawless kernels of milho.

On a cleaner note, Entropy has also started working out. During our time at the beach he decided to take up running and would frequently ask me to join him for laps around the picnic table or nearby sidewalks.

He’s also started coaching K in his new endeavor to do pushups: Entropy counts to three, tells K when to go, and then cheers, “Go daddy, go daddy!” This is usually followed by an immediate attempt to climb onto daddy’s back and then push daddy out of the way so that Entropy can do his own set.

And whether it’s the physical exercise or just nature at work, he is starting to slim down a little bit. His belly is still healthy, for sure, but proportionally he’s beginning to resemble a real person.

So, who knows? There’s still a lot of chaos in him, but as he gradually begins to bring order to his world, Entropy may just earn himself a new nickname.

I Need to Let Go

2011-01-08T18:54:00.002-02:00

Cliffs: I’m essentially two years old.

I grew up sharing with my younger brother, and I don’t think I was a spoiled child, so then why am I acting like a spoiled adult?

Much like Entropy (the two-and-a-half year-old), I’m fine with sharing when it’s my own idea. But when it’s not, I feel irritated and pouty.

The “Snickers” post is one example of my childishness. Here are some others:

My Idea = Okay:

It’s Children’s Day or some other insignificant occasion: Me: “Hey, let’s make a batch of chocolate chip cookies for Fabi and her kids.”

Not My Idea = Not Okay

I come home from work to discover that Fabi has eaten four of my seven remaining chocolate chip cookies. (Yes. I count.)

My Idea = Okay

It’s cold and rainy outside and Fabi has been telling me about her tough weekend. Me: “Hey, I’m making some of that chai tea I brought from Texas, would you like a cup?”

Not My Idea = Not Okay

The day after returning from our vacation in Texas. Fabi: “You know that homemade chai tea mix your cousin made you for Christmas? How many spoonfuls of that do you need for each cup of water?” (No. She wasn’t making a cup for me.)

Why is it that I find myself recounting the Vermont Brownies repeatedly and asking K if he’s sure that he hasn't had a pumpkin spice one? And why would I have been fine with one less brownie if I had been the one to designate where it went?

One insight that I’ve gained from my maternity leave at home with the nanny is that I am probably more of a control freak than I had previously imagined. Not an easy realization to make for someone who saw herself as easygoing. (Notice the extent of my deflection in the sudden switch to third person.)

It’s an ugly trait. In my defense, I never act on it--except to complain to poor K who has to see my dark and selfish side--but it’s embarrassing and stupid that I feel this way at all.

I don’t want to be one of those people who identifies a fault and then flaunts it with the quintessential, “This is who I am. Deal with it.” So now I need a cure.

I’ve been trying to share more of my own accord and let go of my attachment to sugary imports. I’m thinking that if I hurry up and give away all of my chocolate chips and chai tea, no one will have the opportunity to take them from me. And when I run out, I won’t have anything left to hoard or count like the miser that I’ve become. Then all I have to do is not bring over any more food from the States or buy any more chocolate, or only bring over and buy what I’m willing to share. (Vengeful much?)

Sigh.

Pray for me. I have a long way to go.

Say Cheese

2010-12-25T23:51:00.013-02:00

Cliffs: I'm taking mental pictures and dreading future developments.

Today was a good Christmas. We were happy to spend the time with family, and it's been fun to see Entropy interacting with everyone and getting excited about his gifts. Which leads me to the moment I felt the foreshadowing of pain.

Entropy recently started taking pictures with our camera, so Pommel and Paps did us a favor and got him a digital camera that's made for small kids. He loves it. He's been taking pictures with it all morning, and he took it with us to the family lunch.

And apparently he's not the only one. Another cousin, who's about a year older, also got a digital camera. But the cousin's camera was a bit more advanced and a lot more expensive.

When the cousin brought out his camera, Entropy ran over and asked me for his. We retrieved it from the diaper bag, and Entropy bounced away to show off his similar gift. I was smiling at how cute the boys were and at how happy Entropy was, when I saw the cousin give a quick appraisal of Entropy's toy and say, "Mine is a real camera."

My heart sank.

Entropy was too young and distracted to understand the implications of the comment, but it made me melancholy just imagining his pain if he had.

The cousin wasn't trying to be mean. And Entropy emerged unscathed this time. But it's inevitable, right? One day someone will insult my son, or make him feel inferior, or will show him up and destroy the pride he had in something.

And I will have to watch. And hurt. And scramble aimlessly for something to do or say to make him feel better. And I don't know how effective I'll be.

Maybe some days I'll be successful: I'll be funny and creative and know just what to do to make Entropy brush off the insult and smile.

But I'm sure there'll be days when I'll fail: I'll be at a loss for words, or I'll say the wrong thing, or a hug and some sympathy simply won't be enough. And those days of being a helpless mother will be harder than these days of being a sleepless one.

So I'm trying to soak in the abundance of smiles and laughter. And I'm bracing myself for the inevitable. Because in the end, I can't shelter him from pain, I can only help him to face it.

The Dangers of Snuggling a Sick Boy

2010-12-15T23:45:00.001-02:00

Cliffs: Last night Entropy was sick.

Good: I got solid snuggle time with him on the couch.

Bad: I got solid chunks of vomit in my hair.

I'm Getting Motivated

2010-12-15T23:34:00.002-02:00

Cliffs: People are productive when allowed to work freely on something meaningful.

I’m on assignment. The BFF spontaneously announced that she is taking on the role of life coach in order to help me pursue some of my goals. (This is a role she’s had since we met twenty-seven years ago, but now it’s official.)

We’ve already had two sessions, and I’ve been thrilled with the homework. (Yes, I’m a nerd like that.) But the new projects--along with a two-day Internet breakdown and temporary NaBloPoMo burnout--have kept me from posting more.

All of this has got me thinking about another TED Talk. I saw Dan Pink’s lecture “On the Surprising Science of Motivation” last year, but tonight K showed me this shorter adaptation from RSA Animate. (I watched several other RSA Animate films, and while I love their technique, I almost stress out trying to keep up with the speedy hand.)

Pink explores the idea that people are motivated, not just by money--though that is a factor up to a point--but by autonomy, the satisfaction that comes from getting better at something, and the desire to make a contribution. I can’t pretend that I’m making much of a contribution, but this lecture does a good job of articulating why I’ve absorbed myself in my new assignments--and this blog.

Pay it Forward

2010-12-13T21:54:00.003-02:00

Cliffs: It's the season to be giving, and we're going to try and stretch it out a bit.

K and I are taking on a new project. The blessings in our own lives seem to be overflowing, so we feel compelled to help pass them on.

Our nanny, Fabiana, has four children, ages 9, 11, 17, and 18. Her first husband passed away, and her second husband left her for another woman. She has family nearby, and her two older children work part-time jobs, but money is tight.

The public schools in Brazil are not as well-equipped as those in the States. Class sizes are larger, teachers have less pay, fewer resources, and more responsibilities. And even after going through the public system, most students still have to pay to take additional courses if they want a chance at passing the standardized test to get into college. Just last week The Economist wrote an article describing the abysmal state of the Brazilian public school system.

So K and I have decided to help sponsor Fabi's two youngest children to get an Adventist education through high school, or for as long as our resources and their interest allow. (The oldest girl, Carolina, just graduated, and the 17 year-old, Guilherme, will be beginning his Senior year, which includes some trade courses he is interested in.)

Isadora, the 11 year-old girl, is slightly overweight and has been the victim of bullying at public school. She gets good grades, enjoys her studies, and has learned how to play the violin through a government program for the arts.

Herbert is 9 years old, he loves soccer, and he takes karate classes through a similar government program. Though he is not as enthusiastic about his studies as his older sister, he did very well on the placement exam and is excited about the prospect of attending an Adventist school.

I don’t want to be too hyperbolic or emotional here, but a solid education at a good Adventist school is something that could be life-changing for these kids.

The monthly fee for each student is approximately $260 ($3,120 per year). K has already spoken with the principal about our plan, and at this point the school is willing to give both students a 30 - 50% discount, bringing their monthly fee to $130 - $180 each ($1,560 - $2,160 per year). In addition to the monthly fees, the school charges a separate registration fee (another $260 per year), books for both kids will cost another $650, and we would also like to help purchase one or two sets of uniforms.

So, we've taken on a big commitment. And we're confident that with the help of God and others we will be able to fulfill it. I owe so much of what I have to a good education and a loving, Christian background, and I'm excited about being able to help pass on this educational opportunity to two kids who could really use it. If you would also like to help Isadora and Herbert, you can donate through the PayPal button below. If you know me personally and would prefer to send a check, write me an e-mail and I'll send you an address. Thanks for reading.

Happy Holidays.

Entropy and the Jackson 5

2010-12-13T13:48:00.000-02:00

I already posted these videos from Entropy's school program on Facebook, but I thought I'd put them up here as well.

My dad is the one who you hear laughing the most.

Paps Visits Brazil

2010-12-12T22:33:00.004-02:00

Cliffs: Paps visited Brazil and we had a mini pre-vacation vacation.

Post-show without his "ABC" vest

Thursday morning Paps flew in and Entropy, Babe-A and I picked him up at the airport. His flight was a little late, but during the delay I got to see K’s cousins who were just arriving from Miami, and Entropy got to roll around on the floor and eat crackers.

Pre-show

We arrived back home with just enough time to eat lunch and raid Paps’ suitcase before picking up K from work and heading to Entropy’s school show. His class sang “Rockin’ Robin” and “ABC” by the Jackson 5, and once again, this biased mother believes that her child stole the show.

Entropy helps carry down the surf racks

Friday was a fairly normal day with school, a walk, a grocery run, and swimming lessons. Paps also started learning some Portuguese in an attempt to better understand his talkative grandson.

Saturday we went to the beach. The waves were small, but Paps got to surf and Entropy got to play with a random kid camped out in front of us. Everyone but Babe-A got just a tad too much sun, but there were no major burns. At one point Paps said he wanted to send a Christmas card to the inventor of the Brazilian bikini. But he had to reconsider this comment after a few 250+ pound women walked by in the revealing style.

Babe-A basks in the shade

Sunday: we went to Wet ‘n Wild. Paps was there for work, so he toured the park with the owner for three hours, but we got a free cabana, wait staff, drinks, food, and popsicles. Entropy had fun, but was still a little scared of most of the slides and didn’t like water spraying in his face. Overall we had a great time, except maybe for that very last part where Entropy stood up on a chair that tipped over and left him on his face, and then Babe-A screamed for a solid thirty minutes on the ride home.

The Pirate Park Paps came to research (and the aforementioned bikini style)

Monday: Paps and I went for a four mile run/walk and then picked Entropy up from school. When we get there he was crying because he had hit his cheek on a table while running around with another kid. (Entropy’s face had a rough 24 hours.)

The seat that later lands baby on his forehead

Entropy had swimming lessons in the afternoon. He was delighted, as usual, but the most memorable part for us was when he tried to get a classmate’s attention by tapping her on the leg. The girl was not impressed and immediately wiped off the place where Entropy had touched her. Swimming lessons were followed by a trip to the bakery where we all had some fresh orange juice with acerloa. (Dee-lish!) That evening I took Paps to the airport and made the round trip in record time despite some traffic and rain. I’m finally starting to feel more confident driving in Sao Paulo by myself.

He loves posing with his sister

We [All] Need to Talk About Kevin

2010-11-30T23:51:00.000-02:00

Cliffs: We Need to Talk About Kevin is a good book.

I just finished the best piece of fiction I’ve read this year. Lionel Shriver’s We Need to Talk About Kevin is dark, and insightful, and occasionally even humorous. On a basic level, the book is a mother’s attempt to understand how her son became a school shooter. But the story also explores issues of motherhood, America/Americans, the nature of evil, and culpability.

When listing reasons not to have children, the narrator, Eva, sites number nine as

Social demotion. (I was a respected entrepreneur. Once I had a toddler in tow, every man I knew—every woman, too, which is depressing—would take me less seriously.)

And once Eva becomes pregnant, she’s not exactly glowing with excitement:

Lo, everything that made me pretty was intrinsic to motherhood, and my very desire that men find me attractive was the contrivance of a body designed to expel its own replacement. . . . I felt expendable, throw-away, swallowed by a big biological project that I didn’t initiate or choose, that produced me but would also chew me up and spit me out. I felt used.

(This was me, especially during my first pregnancy.)

Eva even manages to comment on issues of child discipline:

“Kevin, I told you to stop it. Don’t squirt these nice men who are only trying to help us one more time, and I mean it.” Naturally I only managed to imply that the first time I hadn’t meant it. An intelligent child takes the calculus of this-time-I’m-serious-so-last-time-I-wasn’t to its limit and concludes that all his mother’s warnings are horseshit.

Diving deeper into the origin of parental and governmental power, Eva points out that

In the domestic polity, myth dictates that parents are endowed with a disproportionate amount of [power]. I’m not so sure. Children? They can break our hearts, for a start. They can shame us, they can bankrupt us, and I can personally attest that they can make us wish we were never born. What can we do? Keep them from going to the movies. But how? With what do we back up our prohibitions if the kid heads belligerently for the door? The crude truth is that parents are like governments: We maintain our authority through the threat, overt or implicit, of physical force. A kid does what we say—not to put too fine a point on it—because we can break his arm.”

(A little scary, huh? As a teacher and a parent, I’ve frequently questioned the motives behind obedience. And though I’m sure that not all filial obedience results from fear, I’m unsure how much control I’d have if my son was completely fearless.)

After a couple years of dealing with her fearless son, Eva ultimately changes one of her philosophies about life:

This notion that you are your own work of art is an American one. . . . Now my perspective is European: I am a bundle of other people’s histories, a creature of circumstance.

I have about 10 pages of notes and quotes, but let me just assure you that even though the subject matter can be difficult to face, the storytelling is superb and leaves readers with a sense of mystery to the end.

Ying and Yang

2010-11-29T23:01:00.002-02:00

Cliffs: I like the contrast.

Earlier this month I discovered this delicious chocolate bar.

Chocolate and chili . . . not a new combination (the Mayans and Aztecs are famous for this), but also not one that most non-foodies would come up with.

This month also marked the release of Girl Talk’s new album, All Day. (It's free! Go get it.)

I’ve written about Greg Gillis before, but his latest album might even surpass Feed the Animals. The reason I love his music is because, like the chili chocolate bar, it combines odd pairings that enhance the individual ingredients.

So, Black Sabbath adds some edge to 2Pac. The song “Loser” sounds good next to “Mr. Big Stuff.” Miley Cyrus provides good accompaniment for Dr. Dre. Pitbull’s “Hotel Room Service” adds a layer of meaning to “Depeche Mode’s “Just Can’t Get Enough.” And really, where else will you find an album that seamlessly incorporates Lady Gaga, Simon and Garfunkel, Jay-Z, Blue Oyster Cult, Cream, Phoenix, Ludacris, John Lennon, the Toadies, Usher, U2, The Notorious B.I.G., Cyndi Lauper, Peter Gabriel, and Foxy Brown?

On an obliquely related--though less tasty and toe-tapping--note, all of this reminded me of Jonathan Haidt’s TED Talk, “The Real Difference Between Conservatives and Liberals.” (This may help you understand the people you disagree with politically--it’s interesting.) After explaining some of the inherent differences between the two groups (their reactions to nudity, the kinds of dogs they want, their core values, etc.), Haidt argues that we ultimately need these contrasting ideologies to maintain a balance between change and stability.

The sweet and the spicy, the rock and the rap, the old and the new. It’s all about balance.

"Take Me Out to The Ball Game"

2010-11-28T21:55:00.002-02:00

Cliffs: I can't wait to go back.

I really love this place. This is summer, and community, and tradition, and leisure, and America.

The Ballpark in Arlington opened in 1994, when I was twelve. But I’ve been a Ranger fan for as long as I can remember.

I remember going to the old ballpark for the first time and collecting the discarded plastic hats that had been used to contain frozen yogurt.

I don’t remember if we won or lost, but I think that we played the Toronto Blue Jays, and I know that my mom was annoyed by the drunken fans in our vicinity.

As often as possible, we would arrive at the stadium hours before game time in order to ask for autographs and collect balls hit during batting practice.

I remember my dad teaching us to be polite to the players: “Call them by their last names.” “Say ‘please,’ and ‘thank you’ and ‘sir.’ ”

I remember saying “Thank you, sir” for an autograph, only to have the player respond, “Sir? That’s for old people.”

I created my first e-mail address to include the last name of my favorite player.

I laminated and hung a newspaper spread featuring this same, aforementioned player.

I collected--and still have--baseball cards, and I was always excited to get the Rangers ones, even though they weren’t usually worth much.

One of our best high school functions was a Christmas banquet at the Ballpark.

I remember going to a game with a boy, only to discover, hours later, that his car had been towed. It was a long, dark walk to the yard where it was impounded, and I ended up paying half of the fee to have his car released. I did not marry this boy.

And this year I watched as many of the games as I could (not an easy task in Brazil), and I was thrilled to see the Rangers make it past the first round of the playoffs and into the World Series for the first time ever.

So, maybe now you can sympathize with me and my indulgent dream to have my 30th birthday in one of the suites at the Ballpark in Arlington. The price includes dinner, parking, game programs, and wait staff. And hey, the cheapest one is less than most kids' buffet parties here in Brazil.

Bye, Bye Chai

2010-11-27T21:41:00.002-02:00

Cliffs: It's a good thing my boy is sweeter than tea.

Today we had some of K’s cousins over for lunch. They have two boys, one a year younger and one a year older than Entropy. Because our table only fits four, we sent the boys out to eat on the balcony.

I’m not sure exactly how it happened, but we eventually discovered a mess consisting mostly of popsicle molds and a chai tea mix sent over by a friend from the States. A chai popsicle is admittedly a good idea, but what they had in inspiration they still lack in execution.

The two boys were looking ashamed and contrite, so I went to grab my camera. But as soon as Entropy saw the lens, he leaned over to pose and smile.

(Entropy already sees me coming at this point.)

(notice the dirty hands and shirt)

(full model mode at this point)

He mustn’t have been that sorry.

Seven Fifty

2010-11-26T23:09:00.000-02:00

Cliffs: New parents are often delusional.

When Entropy was born (in Texas) we were living in Turkey. So, even though we had insurance, we ended up having to pay all of the bills out of pocket and ask for reimbursement later.

Since I was the one who carried, birthed, and breastfed the baby, K was the one who got to talk to the hospital and negotiate our payment.

Shortly after the birth, we had to take Entropy in for a blood test. Afterwards, K went up to pay the cashier while I tried to calm down our screaming son. The lady behind the counter asked if we had insurance, and when K said that we were going to self-pay, she told him that the test would cost seven fifty.

K was astounded and asked if there was a cheaper price if he paid cash. The woman dutifully pulled out a folder and double-checked the price, but it was still seven fifty. She sympathized with him that yes, it was rather expensive.

I didn’t interfere, but I was pretty sure I was witnessing a huge miscommunication. The test cost $7.50, not $750.

Another International Thanksgiving

2010-11-25T21:42:00.002-02:00

Cliffs: I'm looking on the bright side.

I saw four homeless people sleeping on my block this morning.

I’m thankful for my king sized bed.

The nanny regularly stresses me out by coming in late.

I’m thankful I have a nanny.

Entropy did not want to go to bed tonight, and Bab-A dirtied both her shorts and mine with one of the most explosive poops I’ve ever seen.

I’m thankful for two happy and healthy kids (assuming that a poop that large and propellant can still be considered healthy).

K had to work today.

I’m thankful that we both have jobs.

My extended family is far away and spread out today.

I’m thankful for Skype, plane tickets, and Christmas vacation.

My extended family is making variations of turkey, pie, and other traditional fare.

I’m thankful for pizza delivery and homemade chocolate chip cookies.

I still have baby weight to lose and shouldn't be eating pizza and cookies.

I'm thankful that I'm not pregnant anymore.

NaBloPoMo has me staying up later and anxiously grabbing at random topics to write about.

I'm thankful for the time to write and the family and friends who take the time to read (i.e. I'm thankful for you!).

List: Songs That Take Me Back to My Childhood

2010-11-24T22:03:00.001-02:00

I was catching up on my All Songs Considered podcast this morning when I heard this new holiday tune by Paul Simon. (They were, and maybe still are, offering a free download of the song on his website.) It doesn’t sound like a holiday song at all, but it does sound like the wonderful music I would expect from this artist.

Simon’s music is definitely on my list of songs that take me back to my childhood.

Here are some others, along with a memory each entails:

“You Can Call Me Al” by Paul Simon--playing Battleship.
“No Woman No Cry” by Bob Marley--getting ready for a garage sale and being more than a little bit sad that the ice cream truck driver bought all the records that remained from my parents' year in the Virgin Islands.
“Straight Up” by Paula Abdul--riding in a van with my brother, two friends, and their mom every Tuesday after school.
“Take it Easy” by the Eagles--smelling the salt water as we cruised into Galveston for a week of camping.
“Black Velvet” by Alannah Myles--going to Mazzio’s Pizza for lunch and arcade games.
“Carolina in My Mind” by James Taylor--a freshly vacuumed house and Pepperidge Farm muffins baking on a Friday afternoon.
“Gimme Three Steps” by Lynyrd Skynyrd--listening to my dad sing along in the red suburban that always smelled of coconut surf wax.
“Angel of the Morning” by Juice Newton--blasting this record in the guest suite with a cork wall and feeling, ridiculously, that I was mature.

Angry Birds

2010-11-23T22:37:00.004-02:00

Cliffs: I'm feeling lazy, so I'm posting about a game and then going off to play it in bed.

I just got back from an amazing dinner at this gourmet pizza place. The school took the teachers out as a “thank you” for all of our hard work, and everything was decadent: the creative menu, the live music, and the modern, fresh, and cozy atmosphere. (I felt a little like a cheat since I didn’t actually work this semester, but I’m sure I’ll make up for it in a couple months.)

So that’s my excuse for going with another short, frivolous post tonight.

A few months ago K decided to check out one of the top selling iPhone apps: the game Angry Birds. We were both immediately hooked.

The concept is simple. Use a stationary slingshot and a specific number of shootable birds to destroy a few green pigs, most of which are protected by various shapes of wood, ice, or stone barriers.

There are six basic birds that you can use, though the game predetermines which ones you have access to, and in which order, for each particular level.

Sound boring? It’s not.

Below is a picture of an amazing Angry Birds cake. I might need this for my 30th birthday.

Notice that the pigs have a frying pan full of eggs. This explains why the birds are angry.

The blue bird, pictured in the slingshot, is the smallest of the six and can split into three little blue birds after it’s been shot.

The yellow one has power and can be sped up mid-flight.

The red one is the first one you’ll get. And it’s boring.

The white one will drop one egg and then shoot up and off to the right.

The black one is my favorite: it goes off like a bomb seconds after hitting something (or being triggered).

The green one acts like a boomerang.

While "researching" for this post (i.e. googling a picture of the cake) I ran across a post that gave tips on how to unlock more secret levels. So . . . I'm out of here.

P.S. Not only is this game wonderfully entertaining, it’s also something I can play while feeding Babe-A. Double win.

P.P.S. Almost a year after I wrote this, a cousin in Charlotte opened a cupcake business and created these.

Playing with Clichés

2010-11-22T21:22:00.027-02:00

Cliffs: I'm reading, reminiscing, and wishing I could write gooder.

I’m currently reading The Daily Show’s Earth (The Book): A Visitor’s Guide to the Human Race. And while the whole thing has been fun (and I may come back to write more about it later), the following quotes specifically caught my attention:

“He that first smells an emission shall be held culpable for that emission.”

“A man shall place his brothers first in consideration ahead of prostitutes.”

“If a field has grass on it, a man may take possession of it for the purpose of playing.”*

and . . .

“Wise parents were careful to follow the old maxim: Keep your friends close . . . but your enemies closer.”

These are not the best parts of the book, but the wordplay reminded me of a mini writing exercise my students did last year on freshening up clichés.

The best anti-cliché they could come up with was “The grass is always greener where the dogs have been pooping.”

Not bad, huh? It’s true, and it makes fun of the sentiment expressed in the original cliché.

Is it sad that I’m proud of my students for writing about dog crap?

*What's even sadder is that I don't get this one. Can someone help?

Veja Isso (Look at This)

2010-11-21T21:42:00.008-02:00

Cliffs: The magazine should just go ahead and hire me already.

This morning I was browsing through the latest edition of Veja, and I had to laugh at their "Image of the Week."

I was also amused by the article's quick description of Thanksgiving (o Dia de Açao de Graças) as "the day when everyone who lives far away travels to see their family and eat turkey."

And since I'm on the topic of overlap between me and Veja, the October 20 issue printed this small piece about how expecting couples can save a lot of money by traveling to the United States to buy their baby things.

(Is it arrogant of me to suspect that someone from the publication read my post from July?)

Pad-down or Crash Down

2010-11-20T15:23:00.002-02:00

Cliffs: Fear is a great motivator.

Yesterday, K pointed out this image on the CNN homepage. The caption read, "Getting touchy-feely at the airport."

Uh . . . ?

And if the picture weren't disturbing enough, the title of the article, "Scans and pad-downs: What you should know" sounds more like a book warning kids about child molesters than a news article outlining recent developments in airport security.

I don't have a problem with the physical aspects of the new security measures (or, at least, I didn't before I saw this picture). But I am uncomfortable with the ideology behind them.

One commenter quoted in the article argues that, "Being scanned sure beats having the plane explode in mid-air."

Of course getting padded down or scanned is far better than dying. But those aren't the only two options. And the fact that people are accepting that false dichotomy and creating rules based on fear disturbs me more than the act of being frisked or ogled by a stranger. Even if that stranger is wearing a mustachioed grin.

List: A Few Ways to Infuriate or Mildly Annoy People on Facebook

2010-11-19T21:10:00.000-02:00

Vaguebook: Write a vague status update meant to elicit questions and comments from friends:, e.g. "Sometimes life is so hard."
Write a passive aggressive post, e.g. "Marjorie Smith wishes people would just mind their own business." (This example has a tinge of the vaguebook as well--which only adds to the irony.)
Mention how great your life is if you have friends who are not experiencing life at an equal or greater amount of greatness.
Write more than five updates per day about what your kids or your pets are doing.
Share the scores and results of all of your games and quizzes.
Upload multiple pics of yourself posing in front of the mirror.
Post links to articles about the following topics:

vaccination
healthcare
immigration
Sarah Palin

And on that note, I had to share this "Honest Facebook Political Argument"

Freakonomics

2010-11-18T23:23:00.012-02:00

Cliffs: I’ve been freaking out. In a good way.

I know I’m about five years behind on this one, but I’ve really been enjoying everything Freakonomics. K bought and read the book shortly after it came out, and though I remember being interested in it at the time, I just got around to reading it last month.

And now I’ve been noticing it everywhere.

I subscribe to the Freakonomics Radio podcast on iTunes (Favorite episodes so far include "How Is a Bad Radio Station Like Our Public-School System?", "Who Stole All the Runs in Major League Baseball?", and "Why the World Cup Is an Economist’s Dream".)
I just realized that I’ve already watched two of Steven Levitt’s lectures at TED: “Steven Levitt on Child Carseats” and “Crack Economics.”
I was reading the book during my recent trip, when the guy sitting next to me on the plane started laughing and pulled out Superfreakonomics.
There is a Freakonomics blog at The New York Times.
And a movie version of the first book was just released last month.

So, if you want to know how a lottery can help make Americans save, what teachers and sumo wrestlers have in common, and how a street prostitute is like a department-store Santa, go ahead. Get your freak on.

My Mommy Fix

2010-11-17T23:18:00.001-02:00

Cliffs: The twos don't have to be terrible.

Entropy is so much more fun now than he was a year or two ago. Following are a few of the reasons I'm rarely tempted to eat my own young.

When Babe-A is upset after her bath, Entropy holds her hand and says things like "don't cry" and "it's almost over" (in Portuguese).
He says his own prayers.
He says "excuse me," "please," and "thank you" (in English and Portuguese).
He sings a song about helping when he picks up his toys, throws things away, and pretends to clean.
He gets excited about almost everything.
We huddle up and review our game plan for things like school, lunch, and bedtime. After going over the steps like "take a bath, put on pajamas, brush our teeth, have worship, and go to bed" we cheer, "One, two, three, bed!" This quick huddle usually helps him execute with perfection.
After evening prayer, we give goodnight hugs. While I was in the States, Entropy started hugging the door in place of "mamae."

P.S. The video upload was giving me some trouble last night, but I swear I had all of this written before 11 PM. So . . . I'm changing the time stamp.

What was I thinking?

2010-11-16T22:51:00.002-02:00

Cliffs: I may still grow into this mom thing.

Even though this last pregnancy was intentional, I’m still not entirely sure why we decided to have another baby. I think some of it had to do with the fact that no one ever gave me permission to stop reproducing and enjoy my only child. Instead, people always asked us when the next one was coming. And the universal response to my hesitation was an adamant exclamation that Entropy MUST have a sibling.

But my daughter wasn’t the result of peer pressure alone. This list made some logical sense to me at one point, though I was never just thrilled about the whole thing:

I want someone to help keep my son company when we move from country to country or drop him off at the grandparents’ house for weeks at a time.
I don’t want my son to have the parental pressure that often comes with being an only child.
I want my son to have someone who can empathize with him about his crazy parents.
I want to increase the chances of having at least one successful child who loves us and makes us proud.

And these are the reasons I was not happy about the decision:

Pregnancy and labor are not fun, and infancy is worse.
Children are a lot of work.
Children are expensive.
Children are time consuming.
Children are messy.
Children are limiting.
Children are exhausting.
I already don’t have enough time to myself.
I already don’t have enough time with my husband.
I already don’t have enough time with my family.
I already don’t have enough time with my friends.
I don’t like having my body being taken over by someone else for a combined two years of pregnancy and breastfeeding.
I want to travel, and have people over, and go to movies, and go to museums, and concerts, and restaurants.

In essence, I want to eat at a restaurant without worrying about whether or not a paper menu and three crayons can entertain a toddler for 40 minutes. I want to read, and sip coffee, and swing in the hammock, and lay in bed later than 7 AM, and watch TV when I get home from work, and write before 9 PM, and have an uninterrupted phone conversation, and go running without a stroller.

And I know that this phase of life will pass. And I know that much of parenthood is what we make of it. And I know that children are supposed to be infinitely more precious than all of the selfish, petty, and glorious things I’ve listed above. And while we do try to make time for ourselves, and travel, and eat out, and have people over, and go to the movies, I still can’t help but feel like I’m missing out on a lot of other things that I’d like to be doing.

My sister-in-law and some other bloggers have recently been discussing this Slate article that compares parents to junkies. The author, Shankar Vedantam, admits that parents often suffer through “long periods of frustration and stress,” but that these periods are frequently disregarded because they are followed by “intensely high highs”: those unexpected hugs, or laughs, or moments that make you so proud you want to take a hundred more pictures or put a bumper sticker on your car.

Vedantam proposes that “We have a name for people who pursue rare moments of bliss at the expense of their wallets and their social and professional relationships: addicts.” He goes on to explain how the rarity and unpredictability of these blissful moments actually adds to the addictiveness, but you can read the original article here.

I don’t think I’m a complete junkie yet. I can still imagine myself living happily without kids. But as Entropy gets older, he has definitely been encouraging my addiction. And his sweet little sister has even allowed me to enjoy some of her infancy. So in spite of all the frustration and stress, I might just get hooked yet.

Reality G.C. and Maternity Ware

2010-11-15T23:00:00.004-02:00

Cliffs: You probably won't find these at Hallmark or Motherhood Maternity.

While people watching or staving off boredom, the BFF and I sometimes draft candid greeting cards. Because cruel isn't always kind, but it's often kind of funny. (Excuse me for playing with this cliche twice in the last three days; consider it a preview.)

In a potentially realistic chronology:

Valentine's Day: This card cost me $5. . . . Is that enough to get me laid? (Comes with cheap, red condom inside.)

New Baby: Congratulations on your teen pregnancy!

Wedding: Many blessings on your marriage. . . . You're going to need them.

Sympathy: Congratulations on your divorce. . . . it was about time.

Wedding: Congratulations on your marriage! . . . I’m giving this one 3* years. *Card includes a peekaboo window with a wheel that allows the giver to make his own prediction.

Father's Day: I got you this card for Deadbeat Dad’s Day. . . . It’s a little bit late, just like you always are.

And because that aforementioned teen mother is going to need something to wear during her pregnancy, we came up with the following t-shirt ideas.

Who’s your daddy?
Pregnant girls put out.
Can I touch your belly?
Got milk.
I’m pregnant, what’s your excuse?
Make it a double; I’m drinking for two.

Any ideas you'd like to add?

Mark Webber . . .

2010-11-14T15:22:00.006-02:00

Cliffs: My fling with Formula 1 lasted just long enough for me to get my heart broken.

Before May 16, 2010, I had no desire to watch cars race round and round a track. That Sunday, however, K and his cousin were at our house watching the Monaco Grand Prix, and this is what walked onto the podium.

Need I explain more? If there are any of you who--like pre-May-16 me--are Formula 1 ignorant, this is Mark Webber, he’s Australian, and he drives for Red Bull. Then there’s also the fact that he’s beautiful. But you’ve seen the picture. Excuse me for stating the obvious.

A couple weeks ago, K’s cousin told me that the F1 drivers usually eat at a particular steakhouse in the days leading up to the Brazilian Grand Prix. I practically begged K to take me out to dinner. Except I didn’t have to beg, because, well, it’s K, and it’s a Brazilian steakhouse, and--lust aside--he’s a bigger F1 fan than I am.

So we asked the nanny to stay late, and I tried to put on something that didn’t scream “mother of two!”

K practically fasted all day in anticipation of the meal, but I really just wanted to feast my eyes. Alas, Webber was a no-show, so I was ultimately thankful for the amazing salad bar and the attentive waiters who were kind enough to seat German driver Timo Glock at the table right next to us. (I could have handed him a roll, which he might need if he has another scoreless season.)

Even though Mark stood me up, I was looking forward to cheering him on while he fought for the title in Abu Dhabi today. Webber definitely had a chance, but I guess it’s bad karma to leave a star-struck vegetarian stranded at a steakhouse (even if she is married and accompanied by her husband), because today he finished 8th and had to watch the title go to his teammate, Sebastian Vettel.

But even without the big win, the Aussie still makes my heart race. Maybe next year? I think K and I have already agreed to make driver-stalking at the steakhouse an annual date night.

Cruelty-Free (or, at least, cruelty-reduced)

2010-11-13T23:22:00.001-02:00

Cliffs: Because when it comes to animals, you don't have to be cruel to be kind.

Last semester one of my students wrote her research paper on vegetarianism and animal cruelty. Okay, she didn’t actually write it, she copied and pasted it from different parts of the PETA website. But, bless her, all the reading I had to do to prove her plagiarism did help remind me of animal rights issues.

In essence, I’m feeling guilty.

So, in an attempt to ease my conscience and start making better decisions, here’s a specific list of things I want to work on in my efforts to become a more responsible, animal-friendly citizen.

Phase out leather. I’m sure I have some of this in the way of shoes or accessories. Our new car has a leather interior, and when I’m not thinking about what it actually means to sit on the skin of a dead animal, I do still dream about buying a leather couch and recliner.
Use more soy milk. I’m not excited about drinking a glass of it plain, but the only time I pour a glass or “meat milk” (as my cousins call it) is when I’m washing down chocolate chip cookies. I think I could be okay with it in my coffee, cereal, and pancakes.
Buy more products that don’t test on animals and depend less on products that do. I was disappointed to see that my current shampoo and my favorite toothpaste both come from companies that still test on animals. A lot of my make up does, too. And those are just the items that I’ve looked into. I think that improvement in this area will be very doable, it’s just going to require a lot of initial research and product testing. PETA has a list of companies that DO and DO NOT test on animals. This is another time in which I miss the variety of products available in the States.

I’m trying to be realistic here, so I haven’t pledged to go completely vegan. I love my ice cream too much, and I can’t find--and am too lazy and picky to prepare--egg substitutes for all my recipes.

So, even though I suspect my family may already group me with the hippie, socialist, tree-hugging, liberals, I still have a long way to go.

I'll Keep This Brief

2010-11-12T22:36:00.000-02:00

Cliffs: My son could be an editor.

The Background
We try to have a little worship with Entropy every night before bed. This usually means a couple songs, a Bible story, and prayer.

K’s family has a little song that they sing as they’re kneeling down to pray. As with most of the other worship songs we sing, Entropy is slowly learning the words and a distinguishable tune.

The Story
A few weeks ago we were having worship at K’s parents’ house. Since we didn’t have the usual lesson with us, K read from one of his mother’s books. The Bible story was getting a bit long for my little boy, so, while K was mid-sentence, Entropy broke into the prayer song and slid off the couch and onto his knees.

The Moral
Even toddlers can tell when it’s time for a story to be over. (i.e. I should stop now.)

Pie? or Brownie?

2010-11-11T13:46:00.003-02:00

Cliffs: VBC makes it easy for those who might have had a difficult time choosing between chocolate and squash.

As much as I love Thanksgiving, I am not a fan of the traditional food. So I was excited to see that Vermont Brownie Company just came out with a new twist on a holiday favorite.

I had never tried, or even seen, pumpkin brownies until two weeks ago when my blogging sister-in-law made and brought some with her to D.C. And if these are as good as hers, or as good as all of their other brownies, they're sure to delight.

So, this holiday season, you can enjoy another slice of pie. I'll take a brownie, please.

Seriously. Paps, I'm having a couple boxes shipped to your house, so you can bring them with you in three weeks. We can have a belated celebration. I know I'll have lots to be thankful for.

I Speak English and Quality Time

2010-11-10T23:31:00.001-02:00

During a recent dinner party/game night with friends, we all told stories about the craziest wedding presents we’d received. Most of the stories were about frivolous appliances, nicknacks from another era, or used candy dishes complete with sticky remnants from the previous owners.

And then someone mentioned a book.

We were all prepared to laugh in scorn, until we realized that we were familiar with this book. In fact, we had enjoyed it.

I read The 5 Love Languages by Gary Chapman almost ten years ago, so it’s been a while. But the main premise is that people demonstrate and feel love in different ways (or, they speak different love languages). And it’s important for people to understand their own love language(s), as well as the language(s) of their partners so that they can communicate their love effectively.

The five languages include

Acts of service
Words of affirmation
Physical touch
Quality time
Receiving gifts

So, for example, if I feel loved when someone gives me a gift, but my partner shows me he loves me by saying nice things to me, I may not feel like I’m really being loved. In the same way, if I don’t tell my partner how much he means to me, even if I’m buying him things regularly, he may not feel truly loved.

(I really thought a stupid cartoon would have made a more interesting illustration than this last paragraph, but I don’t have a good paint program, and--to be honest--I’m tired.)

Someone recommended this book to me, otherwise I would have never considered picking up the cover. I admit, too, that there are times in which the writing and the examples verge on mildly annoying. But the general idea is interesting and useful.

If you’re not already certain of what your love language is--or if you want to feel like you’re back in high school reading Seventeen Magazine--there’s a quiz you can take here.

FYI: I’m all about the quality time, and you can probably save your money on the gifts.

So, You Want to Get a PhD in the Humanities?

2010-11-09T10:34:00.000-02:00

Cliffs: My dream is a tragic joke.

I sometimes dream about going back to school for a PhD.

I had fun teaching at the university level and getting my Master's degree in literature. The experience has helped me to become a better teacher, and the higher degree has helped me to earn slightly higher pay.

But for now, teaching full-time and taking care of two kids is deterring me from taking classes.

Oh, and then there's the biting reality presented in this video.

Maybe I can go back to school for something else?

Frequent Flyer

2010-11-08T16:20:00.002-02:00

Cliffs: We're loyal customers.

Entropy has started saying "avião" ("airplane") every time he sees a capital letter "A."

Happy Birthday, Primo D!

2010-11-08T11:23:00.003-02:00

Cliffs: I came back from a party in the USA just in time to party in Brazil.

Last week we went to a cousin's first birthday party. Entropy obviously had a great time and eventually wore himself out dressing up,

eating,

pushing buttons in the kitchen,

climbing through the maze,

playing soccer,

and riding the carrousel.

It's nice that other people are willing to invite our kids to the huge birthday parties they throw for theirs.

My Ninja Turtles

2010-11-07T22:38:00.006-02:00

Barefoot running has been getting a lot of attention recently, especially with the 2009 publication of Christopher McDougall's book Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen. (Video of McDougall describing his book here.)

Running without the support of shoes changes the mechanics of the way you run. Most runners are taught to run heel to toe. Barefoot running, however, encourages more of a mid or forward strike. The argument is that as you shed your shoes and allow your feet to teach you how to run, you strengthen your foot and calf muscles and can avoid many types of chronic running injuries.

But of course there are critics who point out that there is no real scientific evidence to support the claim that barefoot running decreases injury. And in fact, they counter that barefoot runners, or runners who use transitional or minimalist shoes actually experience more stress fractures.

If you google barefoot running, the first website you'll see is Barefoot Running is Bad. I was curious about the author's reasoning, but I admit that the angry tone turned me off before I could finish reading the first page.

Runner's World Magazine has two hundred entries under "barefoot running," but I've only made it through two:

"Barefoot Running: Two sides of a very hot topic" is a brief interview with "Barefoot Ken Bob" Saxton, founder of runningbarefoot.org, and podiatrist and runner, Kevin Kirby.
"Foot Loose" is a short, personal account of Peter Sagel's initial experience with the Vibram FiveFingers. (Sagal is also the host of one of my favorite podcasts: NPR's "Wait, Wait . . . Don't Tell Me!")

Which brings me to my Ninja Turtles (a nickname given by a friend who saw the pictures I posted of my Vibrams on Facebook):

Being curious about the hype and in need of new running shoes, I hunted down this pair while I was in Texas. Despite the controversy (Barefoot Ken Bob specifically warns people not to wear these types of shoes before they learn to run truly barefoot), the stores are having a hard time keeping them in stock. My usual running store was completely out of the model I wanted, the Bikila, and when I finally found these, the shop only had two sizes and colors available.

Since purchasing them, I've been on one 2.5 mile walk, two 2.5 mile runs, and one 4 mile run, and so far I'm happy. My calves and feet are a little sore (as predicted), but I feel good when I'm running in them.

All (4) of the people I know who own them also report being satisfied with their funky shoes, so I'm interested in seeing how long it takes to fully adjust. I'm still working on my stride, and I'd still like to try true barefoot running, but my new gear is already beginning to make me feel like a hero in a half shell.

Be it ever so humble . . . or arrogant . . . or angry . . .

2010-11-06T21:12:00.004-02:00

Cliffs: Jon Stewart and Spiegel Magazine speak to some of my feelings about America.

I’ve been tempted to write more about Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert’s Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear, but I’m sure you could find a better summary/analysis somewhere else. The last couple of days, however, I’ve been reading “A Superpower in Decline: Is the American Dream Over?”, a lengthy article from Spiegel, a German magazine, and there were a couple of points between the rally and this text that overlapped.

Colbert, for example, plays a character who hyperbolizes, and thereby ridicules, the kind of fear mongering often seen on FOX News (and plenty of other media outlets). During the rally, the two hosts did a sketch in which Stewart tried to convince Colbert that yes, there are real problems and dangers in the world, but he did not need to live his life in constant fear of impending disaster.

Spiegel regards the United States as “a confused and fearful country in 2010.” When discussing the economic crisis in the U.S., the article makes the point that

The country is reacting strangely irrationally to the loss of its importance -- it is a reaction characterized primarily by rage. Significant portions of America simply want to return to a supposedly idyllic past. They devote almost no effort to reflection, and they condemn cleverness and intellect as elitist and un-American, as if people who hunt bears could seriously be expected to lead a world power. Demagogues stir up hatred and rage on television stations like Fox News. These parts of America, majorities in many states, ignorant of globalization and the international labor market, can do nothing but shout. They hate everything that is new and foreign to them.

And reacting irrationally, stirring up hatred, and shouting were all things that Stewart spoke out against in his key note address:

This was not a rally to ridicule people of faith, or people of activism, or to look down our noses at the heartland, or passionate argument, or to suggest that times are not difficult, and that we have nothing to fear. They are, and we do.

But we live now in hard times. Not end times.

And we can have animus, and not be enemies.

But unfortunately, one of our main tools in delineating the two...broke.

The country’s 24-hour, politico-pundit-perpetual-panic "conflictinator”, did not cause our problems.

But its existence makes solving them that much harder.

The press could hold its magnifying glass up to our problems, bringing them into focus, illuminating issues heretofore unseen. Or they could use that magnifying glass to light ants on fire. And then perhaps host a week of shows on the sudden, unexpected, dangerous flaming ant epidemic.

If we amplify everything, we hear nothing.

Dov Seidman, a philosopher and management consultant quoted in the Spiegel article voiced his "hope that those who hate and yell are so visible only because they are louder.” He notes that “We would be in serious trouble if they actually are the majority."

Stewart ended his speech with an illustration reassuring us that those loud, hateful voices are, in fact, not the majority:

Look, look on the screen - this is, this is where we are, this is who we are - these cars.

That’s a school teacher who probably thinks his taxes are too high, he’s going to work. There’s another car, a woman with two small kids, who can’t really think about anything else right now.

There’s another car . . . The lady’s in the NRA and loves Oprah. There’s another car - an investment banker, gay, also likes Oprah.

Another car is a Latino carpenter. Another car is a fundamentalist vacuum salesman. Atheist obstetrician. Mormon Jay-Z fan.

But this is us. Every one of the cars that you see is filled with individuals of strong beliefs and principles they hold dear. Often principles and beliefs in direct opposition to their fellow travelers.

And yet these millions of cars must somehow find a way to squeeze, one-by-one, into a mile-long, 30 foot-wide tunnel, carved underneath a mighty river.

Carved by people, by the way, that I’m sure had their differences.

And they do it, concession by concession. You go, then I’ll go, you go, then I’ll go, you go, then I’ll go.

Oh my god, is that an NRA sticker on your car? Is that an Obama sticker on your car? Ahh, oh, that’s ok.

You go, and then I’ll go.

And sure, at some point there’ll be a selfish jerk who zips up the shoulder, and cuts in at the last minute. But that individual is rare, and he is scorned, and not hired as an analyst.

Because we know, instinctively as a people, that if we are to get through the darkness and back into the light, we have to work together. And the truth is that there will always be darkness. And sometimes the light at the end of the tunnel, isn’t the Promised Land. Sometimes, it’s just New Jersey.

But we do it anyway, together.

Though the article went into great depth on the specifics of the economy, the potential devaluation of the U.S. dollar, and the problems with American consumerism and attitudes of entitlement, I probably won’t come back to comment on the rest of it. And there is likewise so much more I could say about the rally. But I guess, after going to D.C., reading this foreign perspective, and thinking back on my recent trip home, the thing that strikes me most is how great most Americans really are.

I commented to the BFF that it catches me by surprise every now and then, especially with all of the negative stereotypes about Americans and all of the divisive political talk, but every time I go home I’m touched by how kind everybody is. So for that, and the wonderfully overwhelming cereal aisle at the grocery store, I’m still proud to be an American.

The Curse of the Expatriate

2010-11-05T23:41:00.002-02:00

Cliffs: Absence makes the heart grow fonder and keeps my waist from growing softer.

K has an uncle who says that once you live abroad you can never be happy. The theory is that no matter where you are, you'll always be missing something from the country you left.

I'm happy to be living in Brazil right now. K and I began our plans to move here even before we were married. But I can't help but consider the differences sometimes, both good and bad. And every time I visit the States, I'm reminded of the things I miss about home.

Right now I'm missing:

Sweet potato fries
Salt and vinegar chips
Several ice cream shops and flavors with coffee and cookie dough
Better driving conditions:

fewer motorcycles weaving through traffic
less traffic
free parking
parking in general
more two-way roads
more u-turns
fewer potholes
fewer speed bumps
fewer roundabouts

More variety at the grocery store (think cereal aisle)
100% juice
Target
Fried and breaded green beans, jalapenos, and pickles
Cheaper, quality clothes (I got three shirts at Old Navy for a total of $35)
Houses without walls around them
Grass
Family and friends
The ability to communicate beyond a first grade level (though this may be debatable)

Before my trip, I was trying to think of something Brazilian that I could bring back for the aforementioned family and friends (I've previously taken Havianas, crunchy Ovomaltine for making shakes, and pao de queijo mix). There are plenty of things I love about Brazil, and even Sao Paulo, but they're almost all impossible to carry home in a suitcase:

Different fruits and juices (though they're not %100)

Açai
Mangos
Caja
Cupuaçu
Papaya
Umbu

The fact that the beach is within a two-hour drive
Three grocery stores, a post office, a couple doctors, a pharmacy, a few salons, a bakery, Entropy's school, and the gym where he takes swimming lessons all within three blocks of our apartment
Ibirapuera Park
Our nanny
The special lines and preferential treatment for people with small kids
Cheaper services like manicures and haircuts

I enjoy international teaching for so many reasons, but if missing something equals being unhappy, and I can't pack any of the things on my list, I guess I'll be cursed with another degree of unhappiness next time we move.

Party in the USA: Part III

2010-11-04T23:33:00.002-02:00

Cliffs: D.C. was good to me.

The last part of my trip was a fun add on that I rearranged after buying my initial ticket to the States. Shortly after making the original arrangements--which had me going home from Texas on Oct. 27--Jon Stewart announced his Rally to Restore Sanity for October 30. And since I'm on maternity leave, and since I have friends and family in the D.C. area, and since I was already going to be in the States so close to the rally date . . . well, it was just too good for me to pass up.

So I wrote the friends and family, called the airlines, and eventually changed my itinerary.

A former colleague from Istanbul picked me up at the airport and took me out for tortilla-less burritos and Cold Stone before bringing me to her house where we waited for another former colleague and her son to join us. The resident friend was conveniently equipped with a parking spot in a garage downtown, so the next morning we were able to park with ease before walking the 8+ blocks to the National Mall. We arrived about an hour early and ended up finding a spot near the back (there were five jumbo screens between us and the stage). But it was a beautiful day, we were able to sit down some, and the show did not disappoint.

(Picture above taken by a friend who was actually closer than we were.)

The worst part of the trip happened when my cell phone fell out of my purse and into the car. I didn't notice this, however, until we were already in the thick of the rally. I had hoped to call and meet up with two of my high school friends who were also in attendance, but with thousands of people and no phone or numbers, I was helpless.

After the rally, my sweet friends drove me to my brother and sister-in-law's house and we stopped for Jamaican food in route. Another brother and sister-in-law drove over from Virginia with their boys, so that night was a mini reunion of sorts.

I did not have nearly enough time with anybody in D.C., but each moment I did have was wonderful. The friends are still fun, the family is always kind, the Texas Rangers won their World Series game, and I got my Stewart/Colbert fix and was able to support something I believe in.

Party in the USA: Part II

2010-11-03T21:39:00.000-02:00

Cliffs: Food is obviously important.

As I've already mentioned, in Texas the BFF and I were greeted by our parents and whisked away to Mexican food (a traditional stop on any of our family's airport runs).

I was there almost a week, but the days slipped through my fingers all too quickly. Some highlights of this trip included

Being surprised by another crafty item from my sweet and talented mother (picture later, or in another post)
Finally tracking down the running shoes I've been eyeing for a while now
Shopping
Lunch buffet at my favorite Indian restaurant
Two five-mile runs (with a bit of walking mixed in)
Evenings at home with the parents
An afternoon with a friend since first grade (and her chai tea and carrot cupcakes)
A failed photo shoot with a fussy baby
Two scoops of Braum's Cappuccino Chunky Chocolate Yogurt
Fried jalapeno sushi with a cousin and his fiancée
Lunch with four generations

Party in the USA: Part I

2010-11-02T23:11:00.003-02:00

Cliffs: I couldn't have had a better time in Ohio.

The first major stop on my mini tour was Columbus, Ohio. But in order to get there, I had to stop in DFW for a 3-hour layover. Pommel couldn't let anyone else see Babe-A before her, so she woke up early and drove all the way up to the airport to bring me breakfast and meet her new granddaughter. A lovely, last-minute surprise.

Once in Columbus, the BFF picked me up and took me straight to The North Star Cafe where I drank a Shooting Star and we split the North Star Burger and the Sweet Basil Burrito. If I lived near this place, I would rarely eat anywhere else. Well, except for the next place she took me, which was Jeni's, where I had the Salty Caramel, Gravel Road, Queen City Cayenne, and Goat Cheese with Cognac Fig Sauce ice cream. (They were small scoops--though bigger ones still wouldn't've slowed me down.)

And the rest of the trip was equally wonderful:

The BFF has an apartment that feels like a spa, and I was pampered with a gift basket that sat atop the softest guest bed ever.

We went to the grocery store where I discovered these delicious chipotle sweet potato fries.

I got to meet and play Bananagrams with three delightful new people.

Mr. BFF has got mad kitchen skills and cooked meals that included grilled pizza, picante pesto penne, and a caesar salad with avocados and homemade croutons.

BFF and I worked off some of the aforementioned calories on the trails at Battelle-Darby Creek Park.

We met one of the new friends and one of the old friends for lunch at La Chatelaine and dessert at Graeter's in the quaint town of Worthington.

I got to spend time with another old friend and her three friendly kids.

I was (re)introduced to Dr. Dog and Mommy Laid An Egg: Or, Where Do Babies Come From?

The BFF and I got to fly together from Columbus to Dallas, where we were picked up by the parents and taken to good Mexican food. (But now I'm getting into the topic of another post.)

Another Attempt at NaBloPoMo

2010-11-01T23:19:00.001-02:00

Thanks again to my sister-in-law for reminding me that November is National Blog Posting Month. I've tried participating in NaBloPoMo (i.e. posting every day for the entire month) for the last three years but have never quite made it.

Potential topics for this month:

Recent trip to the States (likely stretched into one post for each major stop)
Things I'm missing since my recent trip to the States
Cute things Entropy has been doing
More of the BFF series (if two posts qualifies as an ongoing series)
My history of loving the Texas Rangers (who are currently playing game 5 of the World Series)
Some positive things about being a teacher (because it's easier to remember these while I'm on maternity leave and not actually teaching)
My new running shoes (yes--I promise--they're worth an entire post)
Babe-A and how my experience with her has differed from my experience with Entropy
Books and articles I've been reading (could include Dracula, Freakonomics, The Toughest Indian in the World, A Brave New World, Olive Kitteridge, Earth (The Book): A Visitor's Guide to the Human Race, and Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus)
Something I'm thankful for (because people are supposed to discuss their blessings at the end of November, right?)

That's all I've got so far. Obviously not enough to fill the next twenty-nine days, but here goes . . .

Baby Fat

2010-10-07T21:37:00.001-03:00

Cliffs: Recent ideas on how to lose the baby weight. Because "diet and exercise" is just too simple.

I took Babe-A for a checkup today, and I'm happy to report that she's gaining weight well. Now if only I could lose it well.

My recent ideas:

Wear only my tightest clothes so that my stomach has no room for food and I'm constantly reminded of how desperately I need to drop the fat.
Move to a country where I have even less access to the foods I love.
No solid foods for 6 months. If Babe-A is on a liquid diet for that long, maybe I should be, too.

Snickers

2010-09-29T15:20:00.005-03:00

Cliffs: I'm calling b.s.

Sunday I indulged and bought one Snickers bar. Tuesday after lunch I wanted to eat the Snickers bar. I looked on the second shelf above the counter where I had put it, but could not find the Snickers bar.

I asked Fabi in an off handed way if she had seen the Snickers bar. I knew it was possible that Fabi had eaten the Snickers bar.

Fabi said she didn’t know what a Snickers bar was. She asked if a Snickers bar was a large bar of chocolate for baking. She said that the Snickers bar must have fallen behind some other food.

I got a chair and looked for the Snickers bar behind all of the other food. I did not find the Snickers bar.

I went to the grocery store but could not find another Snickers bar. I bought three Twix bars. I told Fabi that I bought three Twix bars and that one was for me, one was for her, and one was for K.

This morning Fabi came in and started cleaning the guest bathroom. Within two minutes she came out with a Snickers bar. She said that Entropy must have hidden the Snickers bar.

P.S. Entropy cannot reach the second shelf above the counter.
P.P.S. I put four bottles of sunscreen away in the guest bathroom cupboard Tuesday and would have noticed a Snickers bar.

If it takes a village, I may want to move.

2010-09-23T14:31:00.002-03:00

Cliffs: A few quick notes and stories from Babe-A’s birth until now

A hospital employee said that she couldn’t believe that I was the patient because she’d seen me walking up and down the halls with Entropy the day after Babe-A was born. Later that day, a nurse came in and started to lift up my shirt, saying that she needed to see my stitches. Moral: they really just assume that everyone in Brazil has had a c-section.

Since all the new moms I’ve seen here give out favors to the guests who come visit them in the hospital, I decided to give out chocolate chip cookies in individual plastic bags secured with miniature clothespins. Wanting the cookies to be fresh but not knowing when Babe-A would arrive, I showed our nanny all the ingredients and we went over the recipe so that she could write it down in Portuguese in case I didn’t have time to bake the treats myself. Well, the birth ended up being rather rushed and Fabi ended up having to take on cookie duty. The result, however, was nothing I could’ve predicted. The cookies were dark brown, hard, and had large pockets of air in the middle. The cause? Three cups of sugar instead of three-fourths of a cup of sugar. Moral: I should probably keep taking Portuguese classes.

Unlike in the Sates, where they tell you to give baby a spit bath until the umbilical cord falls off, the hospitals here put infants in the tub within the first 24 hours.

People often told me that Entropy was cold and needed to be wearing three more layers. I thought this was a thing of the Turkish past, but now I’m in Brazil and it’s starting all over again with Babe-A.

Despite the multiple layers and constant fear that babies here are cold, none of the newborns I saw at the hospital were wearing the hats I often saw in the States.

I love, love, love our nanny. But recently she’s been saying some crazy stuff:

Yesterday she came in a little late and asked if she could use our shower because she had no water at home. (Totally fine so far.) The reason she didn’t have water? It rained last night.
The other day I asked her if she could pick up some bananas on her way back from taking Entropy to school (something she’s offered to do before). She came back empty handed, but then left again 5 minutes later saying that the line at the supermarket was too long when she went by before. If you know the nature and location of our supermarket, you realize that this makes absolutely no sense.

One morning as I strapped Entropy in his stroller to go to school, a well-meaning visitor ran to get a brush and insisted on combing my boy’s hair to the side. The overall effect begged, “beat me and take my lunch money.” Surely this can’t be better than the tousled, just-out-of-bed look?

On my glorious, first postpartum run, a random woman stopped me mid-stride to ask if I wasn’t that girl that she’d seen pregnant just a little while ago. I replied that yes, it was probably me. I quickly wished that it wasn’t, however, when she launched into an interrogation about the age of my baby and the permission I did or did not have from my doctor to be running.

Pommel Visits Brazil

2010-09-18T16:37:00.002-03:00

Cliffs: My mom’s visit was too short and too early.

Pommel flew into Brazil on her birthday (and my due date), August 26. I went to pick her up from the airport by myself since K had to work. Some family members voiced concern about this, and I have to admit that the very real possibility of getting stuck in traffic and going into labor had me a bit nervous, too. But other than a couple quick taps on the brakes that left Pommel braced for impact, the trip was uneventful.

What was supposed to be a nice lunch at the Indian restaurant down the street turned into a late takeaway meal because of a miscommunication with the waiter, a leaky diaper from the toddler, and an impending appointment at the salon.

My plans for pretty, purple toes were spoiled when the ladies told me that women giving birth weren’t allowed to wear nail polish at the hospital. I’m still not sure what this is all about, but one of my hospital brochures does say something about not wearing makeup, hair products, or nail polish to the hospital.

Friday Pommel and I went for a walk and took Entropy to school and swimming lessons. I had a doctor’s appointment that morning, and when I was only dilated at 1 cm, we pretty much gave up any hope of Pommel being here for the birth. But at least that freed us up to make other plans.

So Saturday we went to the beach. Unlike the city, the coast was cloudy and cool, but nice for lounging around and playing in the sand. Entropy knocked down sandcastles, I envied the surfers, and Pommel tried several of the typical Brazilian beach foods: corn, coconut, and grilled cheese (not the sandwich--just cheese that is grilled). It was relaxing, and I’m glad that Pommel got to see a bit more of the country.

Sunday we went to the park. We all got popsicles while Entropy slept in the stroller, and then when he woke up and asked for his own popsicle, we couldn’t let him eat alone, so we went for round two. The snacks continued on the way home when we stopped for pastel and caldo de cana (sugarcane juice).

The rest of the afternoon was spent working on a chandelier for Babe-A’s room. Pommel bought the materials to make our own version of the one I saw here (picture of our version will come when it's done--long story). She’s so crafty.

And did I show you the painting she did? It was based on a similar one that matches Babe-A's bedding from the same website. It’s so nice to have an artist on hand to take commissions. Now I just need to get her to come back and bring my dad.

Babe-A Makes Her Entrance

2010-09-04T14:43:00.001-03:00

Cliffs: We finally have a baby!

After being sent back home from my first attempt to go to the hospital, I was determined not to be rejected again. So I waited through contractions Monday night and Tuesday morning, and only got in touch with K at school early Tuesday afternoon when the contractions were less than 10 minutes apart and getting stronger.

K came home, we packed the car, and made it to the hospital less than an hour later. At the hospital, however, no one seemed to be in any hurry. I waited around the lobby for someone to take my blood pressure. Then I waited around the lobby again for someone to examine me. It wasn’t until they finally had me drop my pants and realized that I was 8 cm dilated that people started to take me seriously.

They rolled in a bed, rushed in 3 nurses, and swept me away from K and into a delivery room. Fortunately K had called my doctor before we left the house and he arrived at the hospital with his anesthesiologist (I guess they work as a team) right before I was examined.

So I’m being stripped, scrubbed, poked, and interviewed (in Portuguese) while K is putting our bags in a locker and changing into scrubs and a surgical cap. The doctor has me push once and then stops me. At this point I still don’t know where K is. A nurse asks me if anyone is going to be in the room for the delivery, and I tell her that I should have a husband somewhere in the hospital. She asks for his name and then goes looking for him.

When K rushes in a couple minutes later and asks how far away we are from having a baby, the doctor says, “If it takes five minutes, that’ll be a long time.” Three to four pushes later and she was out.

I’ll skim the part where baby came out quiet, limp, and purple, and just say that after five minutes her Apgar score was up to 9. My total time on the epidural was no more than 15 minutes, and I’m pretty sure that the doctors couldn’t have been in and out more quickly if it had been a scheduled c-section. There should be some sort of discount, I’m thinking.

"E" for Effort

2010-09-02T21:49:00.001-03:00

Cliffs: Okay, so it wasn't that much effort, but then how about an "S" for style?

I wrote previously about the door hangings typical in Brazilian maternity wards, so I thought I'd come back and post a few pictures. I wish I had more, as this isn't a very good sampling, but I felt like I was being creepy walking up and down the halls taking pictures of other people's rooms.

Knowing what I would be up against, I finally made it to a scrapbooking store and bought the materials to make this:

To be honest, I didn't do too much:

Bought precut sheet of paper, ribbon, box of eyelets, and adhesive letters.
Had people at the store insert the eyelet at the top of the paper to avoid tearing.
Pulled off and adhered the letters necessary to spell "Aila" (to be known as Babe-A).
Found and traced a pattern of an owl from google images.
Colored, cut and glued white paper, green and white polka-dot cardstock, and the top layer of a cardboard box in order to create the owl and branch.
Poked ribbon through the eyelet and tied a bow.

Obviously my decoration didn't require the same quality of skill or materials, but when it comes to pure aesthetics, I can't say that I prefer the sheep or the florally teddy bears.

I Think I've Lost My Glow

2010-08-30T21:47:00.002-03:00

Cliffs: I'm so ready to be done.

Yesterday I took my mom to the airport. I guess people assumed that I would be flying, because while pushing the luggage cart to the back of the snaking check-in line, I overheard comments that translate literally to “Our Lady!” “C*@k!” “It’s impossible!” and “How could she?!”

This morning Entropy woke up early crying. I squatted down by his bed to comfort him, and when I got up my pajamas were wet. Not dripping wet, but suddenly and noticeably wet. This happened to me one night at the end of my last pregnancy (in the States), but since it wasn’t a dramatic leak and I wasn’t feeling any contractions, I got some sleep and went to the hospital the next morning. My delay earned me a big scolding from the nurses and an immediate induction. So when it occurred again this morning, I took a shower and started making arrangements to go to the hospital.

After a couple hours, three tests done by annoyed personnel, and a few hundred reais, we were sent back home. No one brought up induction, but pretty much everyone made me feel like an idiot for even being there.

Overdue

2010-08-27T23:26:00.002-03:00

Cliffs: My due date was yesterday, but I'm still pregnant.

Last night I went to this site that has been tracking baby girl's development, and the message said something like "Congratulations! You've done it! You and your newborn are now . . ."

Just sickening. It's so wrong to do this to a pregnant girl.

I'm thinking about skipping church tomorrow just because I don't want to face the incredulous looks and obvious question: "So, no baby yet?"

"Oh, no. I had her yesterday. We just left her in the car. And this bulge? Oh, I put a big melon under my dress because I like the way it feels against my skin. Thanks for asking."

Adoornments

2010-08-14T14:26:00.002-03:00

Cliffs: Before baby girl even arrives, I am already being set up for my first mothering fail.

After visiting four different hospitals, it has become obvious that not only are the Brazilians big on celebrating birthdays, they’re also big on celebrating births. (Imagine!) This takes the form of elaborate signs and decorations on the hospital room door and personalized favors for everyone who visits. Ugh.

So I have a plan for some small favors (even though I’m not expecting any visitors other than my in-laws), and now I just need to decide whether to neglect the whole door thing or to come up with something homemade and, therefore, ultimately pathetic. Sometimes I wish I were crafty.

I don’t know exactly how I ended up there last night, but while thinking about this post I ran across an adorable felt piece on Etsy. If only it weren’t so expensive and didn’t have to come all the way from New Zealand. I should have thought about all of this more than twelve days before my due date.