Through The Looking Glass

When Will and I lived in our first apartment, we had a hand-me-down Hoover vacuum. It was as basic as appliances come, and ancient, so of course it worked spectacularly. One day, not too long before we moved out, some girls knocked on the door and said they lived next door and were moving; they needed to vacuum to get back their deposit, and could they borrow mine? I said sure, and they did. When they had not returned it the next day and did not answer the door either for me or for Will, we called the management agency. They sent someone who opened up the apartment, which was empty except for my vacuum cleaner, broken literally in half in the middle of the floor. Those fucking bitches.

Yesterday afternoon there was a knock on the door. It was a woman from down the hall whom I’ve met a few times. She has a sweet baby girl and I think she is single mom-ing it. We say hello in the hall and in the laundry room, and I’ve told her to come by if she ever needs anything. Last night she needed to borrow my vacuum cleaner, as she’d put down some chemical cleaner before discovering that the new bags she bought didn’t fit hers. She was somewhat agitated, and I was in my pajamas. Part of me wanted to say no. Because we are on our last bag and it is nearly full and I need to vacuum. Because I no longer trust people. Because if anything happens to this vacuum cleaner, we absolutely can’t afford to replace it.

But I said yes.

An hour later she brought it back. She said, “I have to tell you, you are a very kind person. I have had an awful day, and I had to get up those chemicals before I picked up my daughter. Thank you.”

Universe, thanks for being good to both of us yesterday.

Do you ever google yourself? I don’t mean a straight-up vanity google to see if anyone has mentioned your name (damn right you do–I get google alerts for my name daily); I mean something a little weirder, and I hope I am not the only person who does stuff like this.

See, I read this post on first kisses. And I remembered mine, and for the first time in seventeen years I didn’t cringe. It was what it was. It was even kind of nice. That was, after all, the first night I saw Tarsem’s work (before the kiss we watched MTV, including the “Losing My Religion” video), and he went on to make my favorite movie.

But the kiss. His name was Barrett. He was three years older than me. He had ratty blond metal hair. I was way into him. I sincerely doubt that I could pick him out of a lineup now. (Not that I think he’s a criminal! I’m sure that at least 50% of kids raised in Saugerties, NY, go on to be law-abiding citizens.)

So I googled “barrett first kiss.” Why? I have absolutely no idea. I certainly wasn’t trying to find out if he was anyone else’s first kiss, though it would be kinda cool to find that someone else had written about him. No, see, I think maybe I was looking for myself. As if some other me had written about my first kiss. I told you it was weird.

Naturally, I got one gazillion results for Elizabeth Barrett Browning poems about kissing.

This is a passage from the book Learning All The Time by John Holt. He is discussing ways of exposing children to the ideas behind reading (letters stand for sounds, letters put together make words) while letting them figure it out in a way that makes sense to them. He is specifically talking about writing out simple words whose letters make the sounds that make up the word (not all of them do, as he points out)–and he uses Sam as his example word! I think this passage applies to much more than just reading.

It is neither necessary nor a good idea to be too thorough about this. It is not a lesson to be completely learned and digested the first or second time. This is not how children learn things. They have to live with an idea or insight for a while, turn it around in some part of their minds, before they can, in a very real sense, discover it, say “I see,” take possession of the idea, and make it their own–and unless they do this, the idea will never be more than surface, parrot learning, and they will never really be able to make use of it.

Mr. Holt’s ideas about learning have inspired my entire set of educational beliefs. Honestly, everything he has to say is so exciting to me! And I think his books are wonderful tools in raising children no matter what kind of education you favor.

Sam is only two, with school a concept he’s never had to consider. School starts next week for children in our city, while our days will continue on as they are.

I don’t like curriculum, or feel that it’s appropriate for a child Sam’s age. I know he can learn everything he needs to know simply from being in the world. I find myself asking, though, what I can do to make sure that all the world has to offer him is available when he needs it.

How can I expose him to people and places outside of his family life?

How can I show him new ideas and concepts?

How do I respect his comfort level while challenging him?

And how the heck do I motivate myself in all this?

I’ve got a few ideas.

We can visit the museum and the children’s gallery more frequently. There he can see art and also create it, and there are plenty of toys if he just wants to play. His membership is free and we can take the bus there and back for $2.50 total.

We can go to the zoo. We have a membership so it only costs us the gasoline to drive there.

We can read more. Lately I’ve been suggesting a book whenever Sam is not busy playing. He says no about half the time, but I think it’s good that he make his own decisions. And he says yes the other half!

We can start going to story hour at the library, as soon as I find out which libraries have story hours where he is welcome (they all seem to have age limits). I’m hoping there will be one in walking distance, but if not the Metro goes to the main branch or we can park there for $1.

We can go to the park more frequently. He loves the playground SO MUCH and it is only 1.3 miles away. I have no excuse for not walking there with him more often.

We can cook together. He loves to use his Cutting Food when I prepare dinner, and we should do it more frequently.

As for me, I will have to spend less time knitting and on my computer, and more time getting myself moving. It sounds so easy when I put it like that, but just showering can be a real challenge for me some days. I wake up slowly and most days the morning is gone before I know it. I resolve to really use the mornings more frequently, even if it hurts.

But not until I recover from the cold. It is really and truly kicking my butt. Maybe while I recover you could tell me about your favorite things to do with your children (if you’re a parent) or your favorite memories of things you did with your parents. Need not be “educational” as long as you enjoy(ed) it!

Thanks to Stefani whose lovely post inspired this one.

• Someone has nominated me as the Hottest Female Blogger. I have no idea who it was, but they apparently have not seen what I look like most days:
  

  Yeah. I am horribly flattered, but it would be pretty awesome if you’d go vote for my friend Nina (The Slackmistress), since she is currently in third place and could actually win. (That is, if you can figure out how to vote. I am flummoxed.)

• As may be apparent in the picture above, I am SICK. I feel awful. Naturally Sam is fine, but I have passed my nasty germs along to Will and Sam is refusing to play nurse-maid to us. Little ingrate. EDIT: Never mind. Sam is coughing and warm. DAMN IT.
• My new favorite meal: Honey-Nut O’s, plain yogurt, and fresh strawberries.
• If I were a gymnast, and an angry torch-bearing mob were chasing after me, I surely hope the town square would be as well-equipped as this one.

Yeah, that’s all I’ve got.

Me: He’s kind of creepy, but he’s a really good writer!

Will: Not on Twitter.

Me: One hundred and forty characters. Not everyone is as pithy as me.

Sam comes over and lifts my shirt.

Me: Can I have a kiss?

Sam (shaking his head no): Mm-mmm.

Me: So…you want to go right to second base?

I hate baby talk. Who doesn’t? I think it is fairly universally agreed that baby talk is a little icky, if sometimes incredibly amusing. (And occasionally appropriate for cats. Who’s a widdle puddy-tat?) Fortunately no one ever tried to talk to Sammy that way when he was a baby, so I never had to find out how I’d react.

But it turns out there is toddler talk, too. WHO KNEW? Now, for all I know this is how every parent ON EARTH speaks to their toddlers except for us, but it’s totally foreign to me.

I didn’t realize what it was at first. A nervous tick, maybe? I was really baffled. There was a constant stream of talking. CONSTANT. If Sam picked up a police car to play with, it was, “Sam, is that a police car? Do you have a police car? Where’s the fire truck? Can you find the fire truck? What color is the fire truck?” And on and on till I wanted to scream, “We don’t WANT him to be ADD! Just let him PLAY!” All day it was, “The sky is blue, do you see the blue sky, what color is the sky?”

Finally it came out that this is how toddlers learn to talk. Which I seriously doubt, but since Sam’s cousin (seven months younger) points to everything and identifies it while Sam only talks when he has something to say, we are obviously failures. And I really and truly don’t think there is anything wrong with beginning to talk by identifying things you see. It is, in fact, quite charming. But it is not the ONLY way to start talking and I resent being treated like I am doing it WRONG just because I am doing it DIFFERENTLY. By which I really mean that Sam is doing it differently.

I mean, what’s up with that, really? Do people genuinely believe that all children should be treated exactly the same way and should develop at exactly the same pace? Am I some kind of horrible abuser for not expecting my kid to talk when he doesn’t want to? (Don’t answer that.)

I really believe in talking to children as people. They ARE people! Small, inexperienced people. But 100% people, and I don’t want my small, inexperienced person talked down to. And I know the person in question would never intend to talk down. But I believe that’s what she’s doing.

I need a haircut. I don’t want to admit just how long it’s been, but it’s a long time. Sam already existed, but was very small.

Now I have this gift card for a hair place. Actually, I’ve had it since my birthday. But I have a problem: I have NO IDEA what to have done. Until recently I was absolutely certain: short, layered bob and dye it red. Now? Well, now my pesky hair has gotten to the length where I’m all, “ooh, I look pretty with long hair.” Also I remembered that I look pretty with dark hair. Ack.

This is what I look like right now-ish:

As a bonus, that is the sweater I am currently trying to finish. I started it, oh, a year ago. Last night at knitting Ellen asked if I could just make it a cropped sweater. Which is a great idea except then I will look like I forgot to make the rest of it. Trust me.

Anyway, the hair. As you can see, it is looking pretty nice. So one option would be to just get it trimmed and some long layers put in to bring out the curl. This is possibly the best option, but it is admittedly very BORING.

On the other hand, I could do the bob.

I scoured the internet and found several photographs of celebrities with approximately the cut I would ask for (L-R is Audrey Tautou as Amelie, Colleen Moore, and Katie Holmes):

I would not mind looking like any of those ladies. However, I have already done that cut. You may remember it from my entire pregnancy. A sample:

I was awfully cute, but I did have pregnancy glow going for me. Also, I’d spent 20 minutes on my appearance in that particular picture, something I have not once done since.

So maybe I should keep it long. Like this:

The hair, folks. THE HAIR. But if a haircut could make my ass look like that, YOU KNOW I WOULD DO IT.

So, the options are:

1. Keep it long.
2. Get a bob.

Then there is the issue of color. I could just make the brown richer, with a little bit of red (which is already present, so I’d really just be magnifying the existing color). This would be very pretty and not at all daring. I could go for an unnatural shade of red, which would be fun. Or I could have my hair dyed a natural-ish shade of red , somewhere between my natural color and Sam’s.

(I have no idea who that is. I found the photo ages ago and saved it without proper attribution.) (Her haircut is actually pretty spectacular, but I am pretty sure that on me it would be a mullet.)

So my color options are:

1. chocolate-y cinnamon-y brown
2. fire engine red
3. copper red

Or, as a final option for both cut and color, I could follow Yojo’s advice and go asymmetrical:

What say you, Internets?

Things I Have Done This Week To Get My Novel Finished:

• Watched several book trailers
• Thought about my book trailer
• Planned still photos to use as promotional materials and/or in book trailer
• Read Courtney Summers’ website obsessively
• Annoyed TOTALLY ENTERTAINED Courtney on Twitter
• Read several other YA authors’ websites
• Started reading Cruel Summer
• Read several agents’ websites, trying to determine who to query
• Emailed with Nova (not about writing)

Sigh. I haven’t done any actual writing in over a month. I need more TIME.