Friday, April 27, 2007
Multiple Sclerosis
My mom has MS. She's lived with the diagnosis for nearly 2 decades. She doesn't let it keep her from doing anything, she just does it slower than she used to! Next weekend I'm joining her in the MS Walk at Boom Island. If you'd like to support me, please donate here. Thank you!
Suite Devils
I was chatting with K this morning while dropping Kirk off and we circled around to books. As I was recommending Suite Française by Irène Némirovsky I started feeling guilty about not keeping up with my book reviews. Suite Française was one of the most incredible books I have ever read. It was written in the midst of World War II and was just so alive and fresh and immediate and modern. Sometimes it seemed so contemporary it was hard to remember it was written during the actual events taking place in the book. The first part is during the evacuation of Paris on the eve of the German invasion. The second part is set in a small village in Occupied France, but near the border of Vichy France. The characters change from part to part and yet there are subtle interweavings that are so current in serialized story-telling. The characters don’t know about their connections, only the reader, much like viewers of Lost. The feelings evoked by these personalized historic events are of course filtered by the knowledge that the author died at Auschwitz. She had originally envisioned this masterpiece in 4 or 5 parts and only got as far as outlining the third part. That’s included as an appendix but it’s not the same. Just one more tragedy during a time of countless tragedies.
Besides book club books I’ve been delving into the rather Gothic. I read the Whedon future Slayer comic Fray and a fantastic alt-history comic The Five Fists of Science. I also decided to catch up on all the Hellboy one-shots and have been reading the Darkhorse compilations where there is a Hellboy story. I also read the Hellboy / Goon crossover and now think I need to read more of the Goon! All that horror put me in the mood to read more vampire stuff so I finally got around to the next Anne Rice book.
I have mixed feelings about that Vampire series. Part of the problem is that I honestly just don’t really like Lestat. That's why it has taken me so long to get around to the next one. My favorite has been Queen of the Damned and I think that’s largely because Lestat is relegated to minor character status. So I wasn’t sure what to think about Memnoch the Devil. Lestat’s vampiric nature wasn’t completely central to the plot, and yet it totally was. And he was still the stubborn, childish, annoying Lestat that he always is. Yet the concept was very interesting. The Devil’s case against God was quite enjoyable, though I came away thinking that they’re both wrong. The biggest problem is that there was far more talking than doing and that’s always tricky to pull off. I found myself frequently wondering if Christians would be offended by the narrative or see it as correct Biblical interpretation. It could definitely go either way.
Besides book club books I’ve been delving into the rather Gothic. I read the Whedon future Slayer comic Fray and a fantastic alt-history comic The Five Fists of Science. I also decided to catch up on all the Hellboy one-shots and have been reading the Darkhorse compilations where there is a Hellboy story. I also read the Hellboy / Goon crossover and now think I need to read more of the Goon! All that horror put me in the mood to read more vampire stuff so I finally got around to the next Anne Rice book.
I have mixed feelings about that Vampire series. Part of the problem is that I honestly just don’t really like Lestat. That's why it has taken me so long to get around to the next one. My favorite has been Queen of the Damned and I think that’s largely because Lestat is relegated to minor character status. So I wasn’t sure what to think about Memnoch the Devil. Lestat’s vampiric nature wasn’t completely central to the plot, and yet it totally was. And he was still the stubborn, childish, annoying Lestat that he always is. Yet the concept was very interesting. The Devil’s case against God was quite enjoyable, though I came away thinking that they’re both wrong. The biggest problem is that there was far more talking than doing and that’s always tricky to pull off. I found myself frequently wondering if Christians would be offended by the narrative or see it as correct Biblical interpretation. It could definitely go either way.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Dirty Boy
I really love Kirk's toddler accent. His mispronunciations are so much fun. My current favorite is his own name: Dirt. HA!
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Wit's End
This latest schizophrenic phase of Kirk’s really sucks ass.
Kirk spends all his time of late pushing boundaries. He goes into my bedside table and steals my necklaces even after I take them away and point out he has his own “noodles”. He says “No” without even thinking about what his actual response might be. “Honey, do you want juice or milk?” “No!” He demands one thing but tries get around the cause and effect – he’s done with his bath but doesn’t want to be dried off.
He’s also starting to play favorites. Or maybe it just seems that way since Mommy’s left out in the cold? I remember when he was a little baby and seemed to occasionally favor me over his father and Mr. b would feel sad. People always told us that babies prefer their mom in their first year and their dad in their second. So far that definitely seems to be true.
Kirk is ignoring any commands that I give. Mr. b claims that he’s ignored, too, but at least Kirk looks when he hears his daddy call his name. Yesterday morning I was across the living room, getting Kirk’s coat before we left for daycare. I saw Kirk on the floor with the container I had filled with soup for my lunch. And he was tugging on the lid. And I yelled “No! No! No! No!” as I raced across the floor. But he didn’t listen. And he deliberately spilled the soup all over the floor. I grounded him from pans for after daycare but it’s not like he noticed since we went to the park after eating dinner.
Now, the loss of the soup definitely upset me. I mean, it was really kickass soup! But there was still some left in the refrigerator. Yet what if he was doing something that could have hurt him? What if he had figured out how to open the childproof lock on the drawer with the chef’s knife? Or if he was reaching for the flames on the stove? His addiction to pans has already led him to pull a stool up to the counter to try to grab dirty pans sitting next to the sink, waiting to be washed. There’s no reason why he wouldn’t try to grab one actually filled with hot oil or boiling water. I’ve only used the back burners for well over a year but how long will that be good enough?
As much as it may seem like it when he’s so defiant to me specifically, I have to remind myself that it’s not like he actually hates me or anything. But his sweetness seems to remain confined to when he’s tired. He cuddled with me last night before I put him to bed. He snuggled a little bit when he got up this morning. The inconsistency is just so frustrating!
All last week he was upset about being left at daycare. Previously he would start shouting K’s name as soon as we’d turn the corner onto her street. He’d wave bye-bye to us after getting his coat and shoes off and we’d have to steal hugs and kisses before leaving. But last week he would freak out and scream and yell and cry and just generally get angry and upset about us going to work. Today? He was back to not caring. Maybe the new baby starting today helped. He’s been really into babies lately.
Kirk spends all his time of late pushing boundaries. He goes into my bedside table and steals my necklaces even after I take them away and point out he has his own “noodles”. He says “No” without even thinking about what his actual response might be. “Honey, do you want juice or milk?” “No!” He demands one thing but tries get around the cause and effect – he’s done with his bath but doesn’t want to be dried off.
He’s also starting to play favorites. Or maybe it just seems that way since Mommy’s left out in the cold? I remember when he was a little baby and seemed to occasionally favor me over his father and Mr. b would feel sad. People always told us that babies prefer their mom in their first year and their dad in their second. So far that definitely seems to be true.
Kirk is ignoring any commands that I give. Mr. b claims that he’s ignored, too, but at least Kirk looks when he hears his daddy call his name. Yesterday morning I was across the living room, getting Kirk’s coat before we left for daycare. I saw Kirk on the floor with the container I had filled with soup for my lunch. And he was tugging on the lid. And I yelled “No! No! No! No!” as I raced across the floor. But he didn’t listen. And he deliberately spilled the soup all over the floor. I grounded him from pans for after daycare but it’s not like he noticed since we went to the park after eating dinner.
Now, the loss of the soup definitely upset me. I mean, it was really kickass soup! But there was still some left in the refrigerator. Yet what if he was doing something that could have hurt him? What if he had figured out how to open the childproof lock on the drawer with the chef’s knife? Or if he was reaching for the flames on the stove? His addiction to pans has already led him to pull a stool up to the counter to try to grab dirty pans sitting next to the sink, waiting to be washed. There’s no reason why he wouldn’t try to grab one actually filled with hot oil or boiling water. I’ve only used the back burners for well over a year but how long will that be good enough?
As much as it may seem like it when he’s so defiant to me specifically, I have to remind myself that it’s not like he actually hates me or anything. But his sweetness seems to remain confined to when he’s tired. He cuddled with me last night before I put him to bed. He snuggled a little bit when he got up this morning. The inconsistency is just so frustrating!
All last week he was upset about being left at daycare. Previously he would start shouting K’s name as soon as we’d turn the corner onto her street. He’d wave bye-bye to us after getting his coat and shoes off and we’d have to steal hugs and kisses before leaving. But last week he would freak out and scream and yell and cry and just generally get angry and upset about us going to work. Today? He was back to not caring. Maybe the new baby starting today helped. He’s been really into babies lately.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Kitty
I woke up about 3 this morning. I couldn’t get back to sleep and just had this feeling that I needed to check on Kirk. The cat was in the crib with him! So cute. But she jumped out like she was doing something naughty as soon as I peeked in. When I told this to Mr. b this morning he peeked in and she was back!
I’ve been waiting for that to happen for a while now. I’ve busted her in the crib in the middle of the day when no one’s even in his room at all. And since she’s only lived with us for less than a year, she certainly didn’t have the no-bassinet-EVER rule drilled into her head like the Squirrel. Besides, she and Kirk are totally friends. They pick on each other and love each other. When Kirk’s sitting on one of our laps before bed, she’ll pile on, too. Sometimes much to his dismay. So I always figured she’d end up sleeping with him when he graduates to a big boy bed. She’s just starting early!
Friday, March 30, 2007
Potty Time
Kirk went poopy in the potty.
I was in class all day today and Mr. b and Kirk are in South Dakota, visiting my FIL who’s up for a friend’s funeral. So I called to wish them bon voyage this morning. And that’s when Mr. b told me the news. Kirk went poopy in the potty!!
Kirk's been very aware of his pees and poops for quite some time. We taught him sign language for poop and fart so he could let us know when he needed a diaper change and when he was just stinky. He would often announce that he was pooping or if his diaper was hugely soaked with pee. So we bought him a potty chair maybe about 2 months ago.
He’s been pretty good about sitting on his potty chair after pooping, before his diaper gets changed. So he’s at least been associating it correctly, even if he doesn’t quite have the order down. He always sits on his chair if one of us is using the bathroom, too.
A week ago we bought Elmo’s Potty Time. Kirk’s only watched it a handful of times (not like that Ernie addiction!) but we figured it would just be good for subliminal teaching. We noticed him miming washing his hands during that particular segment so that was nice proof that he was paying at least a little bit of attention. And both Mr. b and I have been asking Kirk if his body is telling him that he needs to go potty as soon as we’d see him start to make poo-face.
Another element that I think makes a difference is that all the kids at daycare are in various stages of potty training. So it must come up frequently, and be something very prominent in his life there. I always hear anecdotally that younger siblings tend to potty train themselves because they see their big sister or brother doing it and just follow suit.
I also always hear that boys are so much harder to potty train and that they take a vastly longer time. So even if this is a fluke, I feel really positive. And I need to think about investigating Pull-Ups. Just when we’ve finally figured out the pros and cons of regular Huggies vs. Pampers vs. Luvs…
I was in class all day today and Mr. b and Kirk are in South Dakota, visiting my FIL who’s up for a friend’s funeral. So I called to wish them bon voyage this morning. And that’s when Mr. b told me the news. Kirk went poopy in the potty!!
Kirk's been very aware of his pees and poops for quite some time. We taught him sign language for poop and fart so he could let us know when he needed a diaper change and when he was just stinky. He would often announce that he was pooping or if his diaper was hugely soaked with pee. So we bought him a potty chair maybe about 2 months ago.
He’s been pretty good about sitting on his potty chair after pooping, before his diaper gets changed. So he’s at least been associating it correctly, even if he doesn’t quite have the order down. He always sits on his chair if one of us is using the bathroom, too.
A week ago we bought Elmo’s Potty Time. Kirk’s only watched it a handful of times (not like that Ernie addiction!) but we figured it would just be good for subliminal teaching. We noticed him miming washing his hands during that particular segment so that was nice proof that he was paying at least a little bit of attention. And both Mr. b and I have been asking Kirk if his body is telling him that he needs to go potty as soon as we’d see him start to make poo-face.
Another element that I think makes a difference is that all the kids at daycare are in various stages of potty training. So it must come up frequently, and be something very prominent in his life there. I always hear anecdotally that younger siblings tend to potty train themselves because they see their big sister or brother doing it and just follow suit.
I also always hear that boys are so much harder to potty train and that they take a vastly longer time. So even if this is a fluke, I feel really positive. And I need to think about investigating Pull-Ups. Just when we’ve finally figured out the pros and cons of regular Huggies vs. Pampers vs. Luvs…
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Intuition or Paranoia?
What do you do when you have nothing to base it on but you have a nagging gut feeling that your son is sick? He’s been warm the last two nights but not feverish during the day and sleeping through the night. He’s been sticking his fingers in his ears. Both of those things could be due to the new teeth pushing through. The ear thing was also during the long car rides to and from visiting Great-Grandma last weekend so it certainly could have been simple pressure changes. The kids at daycare have been rotating around having ear infections but ear infections themselves aren’t contagious. It’s just a virus that spread into the ears. Kirk certainly hasn’t been prone to that. But any kind of virus is contagious. My internal logic synopses are going ‘round and ‘round and ‘round like I’m a robot that’s been Captain James T’d. Mr. b says he’s going to investigate; his intuition about the boy’s health has been accurate to date. I’m happy to pass the buck if it means my head won’t blow up.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Elmopalooza
I had to take away Kirk’s access to his movies. I had filled the two drawers of the upstairs entertainment consol with all our DVDs and VHS cartoons and kids shows. And every day he would unload them, looking for the Elmo tape. And he would carry around the cases and rip off pieces of them and just generally destroy all the video tape slip covers. Every single day. It was a constant mess and I was done with it. So now they’re hidden in the ottoman and his books are in the drawers.
I thought that he would freak out not having immediate access to the Elmo tape. But I guess he’s still young enough that outright deception and distraction still works. Now he just pulls out his Elmo Get Up and Go Songs book and grooves out to that.
I have no idea how we ended up with so many damn Elmo items. It’s not like we tried. The video, stuffed doll, mini-see-n-say, and bath-toy yellow submarine are from Grandma. The song book and sound effect toy are from our neighbors. The sheets are from Auntie. The Big Bird adventure book is from Nana. Really, I think the sippy cups are the only things we’ve actually bought—and that’s only because he honestly needed new ones!
But it’s really easy to end up buying merch without even noticing. We don’t own the movie Cars. Sure, we’ve seen it. K has it at daycare and my mom has it. So Kirk knows it and likes it. But he didn’t beg and plead for Cars pajamas, they just happened to be the only ones on sale and in his size. He didn’t demand Cars boots, they just happened to be the only boots in his size.
Star Wars merch, however, we purposely seek out. Too bad there aren’t any more movies.
I thought that he would freak out not having immediate access to the Elmo tape. But I guess he’s still young enough that outright deception and distraction still works. Now he just pulls out his Elmo Get Up and Go Songs book and grooves out to that.
I have no idea how we ended up with so many damn Elmo items. It’s not like we tried. The video, stuffed doll, mini-see-n-say, and bath-toy yellow submarine are from Grandma. The song book and sound effect toy are from our neighbors. The sheets are from Auntie. The Big Bird adventure book is from Nana. Really, I think the sippy cups are the only things we’ve actually bought—and that’s only because he honestly needed new ones!
But it’s really easy to end up buying merch without even noticing. We don’t own the movie Cars. Sure, we’ve seen it. K has it at daycare and my mom has it. So Kirk knows it and likes it. But he didn’t beg and plead for Cars pajamas, they just happened to be the only ones on sale and in his size. He didn’t demand Cars boots, they just happened to be the only boots in his size.
Star Wars merch, however, we purposely seek out. Too bad there aren’t any more movies.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Play Time
Kirk tattles on his daddy. I don't really know what it is that Mr. b does (it can vary from not letting Kirk play in the toilet to strapping Kirk into his carseat) but it's stuff that he's not into.
Kirk: Mama?
Me: Yes honey?
Kirk: Dada!
It cracks us up so hard. It's such an accusation the way he says it. Sometimes he'll even point.
He's also started singing and telling jokes. Now, we have no idea why the jokes are funny. But you can say "bobo" to him and he'll die of laughter. He goes into full on laugh attack mode after repeating it and giggling a few times! His songs generally revolve around one word that he knows (like [ba]nana) and nonsense syllables. But Mr. b overheard him singing lyrics consisting of "Mama Dada hat hot" and was so amused that he had to start repeating it right away.
I'm glad that Kirk's already showing such love of music. We go downstairs and listen to one side of a record almost every night. His dance moves continue to be super fly. Although last night he spent the entire time cooking. I have some old Tupperware Toys down there and he was playing with the mini-pitcher and measuring cup and stirring and chattering away, saying "hot, hot, hot." He was totally hosting a cooking show!
He's also developed an Elmo addiction. This is relatively recent, the last week or two only. He's got the Kid's Favorite Songs video in which Elmo does his top ten countdown and various Sesame Street characters sing songs like Row, Row, Row Your Boat and John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt. Each song has a different genre arrangement. It's actually pretty good. And he frickin' loves it. As soon as he comes home he heads straight to the drawer with his movies and pulls it out. "Em-oh!" He cuddles his Elmo doll and dances and points and gets so excited.
It's actually gotten to the point where we're starting to wonder if he's watching too much TV. And just a couple of weeks ago we were complaining about his non-stop book demands!
Kirk: Mama?
Me: Yes honey?
Kirk: Dada!
It cracks us up so hard. It's such an accusation the way he says it. Sometimes he'll even point.
He's also started singing and telling jokes. Now, we have no idea why the jokes are funny. But you can say "bobo" to him and he'll die of laughter. He goes into full on laugh attack mode after repeating it and giggling a few times! His songs generally revolve around one word that he knows (like [ba]nana) and nonsense syllables. But Mr. b overheard him singing lyrics consisting of "Mama Dada hat hot" and was so amused that he had to start repeating it right away.
I'm glad that Kirk's already showing such love of music. We go downstairs and listen to one side of a record almost every night. His dance moves continue to be super fly. Although last night he spent the entire time cooking. I have some old Tupperware Toys down there and he was playing with the mini-pitcher and measuring cup and stirring and chattering away, saying "hot, hot, hot." He was totally hosting a cooking show!
He's also developed an Elmo addiction. This is relatively recent, the last week or two only. He's got the Kid's Favorite Songs video in which Elmo does his top ten countdown and various Sesame Street characters sing songs like Row, Row, Row Your Boat and John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt. Each song has a different genre arrangement. It's actually pretty good. And he frickin' loves it. As soon as he comes home he heads straight to the drawer with his movies and pulls it out. "Em-oh!" He cuddles his Elmo doll and dances and points and gets so excited.
It's actually gotten to the point where we're starting to wonder if he's watching too much TV. And just a couple of weeks ago we were complaining about his non-stop book demands!
Friday, February 23, 2007
Golem, Giants, and Gold
In 2004 I started reading the Hellboy comics. I had heard of them from my former co-worker, Sharyn, but it wasn't until I started seeing ads for the movie that I decided to pick them up. The movie was brilliant and I blasted through the entire series.
But I never caught up with the sister title, B.P.R.D. I'm not sure why. I read the first volume that same year but as Mr. b bought the following ones, I never got around to them. That's all changed now. I read the remaining 5 volumes and it was frickin' fabulous. Man I love that world. Even with Hellboy still retired, the cast is just fantastic. I love the backstory that's been given to Abe. Liz continues to amuse. The new guy, Captain Daimio, is a great fit. Who doesn't love Roger? Or Johann? Mr. b spoiled me for a major character's death but it was still very enjoyable to read the lastest adventures of the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense.
The ads for the movie prompted me to read Bridge to Terabithia. I thought maybe I had read it in elementary school. Mr. b remembered it but I did not. It was so good. But tears are unavoidable. Both of us were bawling by the end. I am not sure how the movie can be reviewed as "heartwarming" without changing a major element of the story. Regardless, I think it's essential young adult literature and I definitely see why it won so many awards. It's a little dated (calling parents by their first names, 70s fashions and songs) but I thought it was fun and almost like a period piece in a way.
I did not enjoy Silas Marner, however. Now and again book club will assign a dud. My aunt thought maybe it was a potboiler. Not having read any other George Elliot, I can't reference her style, but I can see how it's possible. I didn't like the eponymous character. He was so passive and when he was about to be robbed yet again, I couldn't take it. I didn't want to be forced into feeling any sympathy for the guy. So I checked the plot synopsis on Wikipedia to see if it had a happy ending. It did so I finished the book. It took way too long to get to the adopted daughter's arrival after his gold was stolen. And then the golden-curls-as-replacement-for-lost-gold element was beaten over the reader's head pretty much constantly. Actually, I thought a lot of it seemed like it had been written by Mojo Jojo. I didn't hate it. I think you could probably do a decent film adaptation. But I don't know why it's considered a "classic".
But I never caught up with the sister title, B.P.R.D. I'm not sure why. I read the first volume that same year but as Mr. b bought the following ones, I never got around to them. That's all changed now. I read the remaining 5 volumes and it was frickin' fabulous. Man I love that world. Even with Hellboy still retired, the cast is just fantastic. I love the backstory that's been given to Abe. Liz continues to amuse. The new guy, Captain Daimio, is a great fit. Who doesn't love Roger? Or Johann? Mr. b spoiled me for a major character's death but it was still very enjoyable to read the lastest adventures of the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense.
The ads for the movie prompted me to read Bridge to Terabithia. I thought maybe I had read it in elementary school. Mr. b remembered it but I did not. It was so good. But tears are unavoidable. Both of us were bawling by the end. I am not sure how the movie can be reviewed as "heartwarming" without changing a major element of the story. Regardless, I think it's essential young adult literature and I definitely see why it won so many awards. It's a little dated (calling parents by their first names, 70s fashions and songs) but I thought it was fun and almost like a period piece in a way.
I did not enjoy Silas Marner, however. Now and again book club will assign a dud. My aunt thought maybe it was a potboiler. Not having read any other George Elliot, I can't reference her style, but I can see how it's possible. I didn't like the eponymous character. He was so passive and when he was about to be robbed yet again, I couldn't take it. I didn't want to be forced into feeling any sympathy for the guy. So I checked the plot synopsis on Wikipedia to see if it had a happy ending. It did so I finished the book. It took way too long to get to the adopted daughter's arrival after his gold was stolen. And then the golden-curls-as-replacement-for-lost-gold element was beaten over the reader's head pretty much constantly. Actually, I thought a lot of it seemed like it had been written by Mojo Jojo. I didn't hate it. I think you could probably do a decent film adaptation. But I don't know why it's considered a "classic".
Monday, February 19, 2007
On Fertility
I can’t believe I forgot to pick up my prescription. I thought of it after the pharmacy had already closed. I got it this morning before going to work so I ended up taking my no-siblings-for-Kirk pill less than 12 hours late. But still. It only takes one fuck-up. Because if there is anything I know about my genetics, it’s that the women of my maternal line are extraordinarily fertile.
Fertility is a weird thing. I’ve spent more time thinking about it over the past year or so than I ever have before. Certainly more than when I was "not trying but no longer trying to prevent". I’m moving out of the phase of life when everyone’s getting hitched to the phase where everyone’s starting to make procreation decisions. And for several of my friends and relatives, the ability to make that decision is being denied to them due to flukes of biology.
What does it feel like—-emotionally, physically, psychologically—-to endure getting your period month after month after month when it’s no longer a relief? I got knocked up less than 3 months after going off the pill. I truly can’t relate, though I can certainly empathize. How long do you try before you start testing? We’re brought up as children of the women’s movement of the 70s to believe that we can Do It All, and that means we can take as long as we want, working on our careers and other personal interests, before we get down to the business of self-replication. But biologically, we can’t. There’s a cut-off date. And all the celebrities that have secret help aren’t doing anything to mitigate that myth.
I finally gave in to Mr. b’s longstanding desire for kids because I wanted to start trying before I had turned 30. If there was something amiss, I wanted to have plenty of time to investigate before the magic expiration date of 35. Most of my friends that are trying are already over 30. Do you take an entire year to let nature take its course? Or do you get checked out after only 6 months, so that there’s more time for next steps, should they be necessary?
And what about those next steps? Why is adoption always a last resort? My own grandmother was adopted, though she didn’t learn about the mother-auntie switcheroo until she had adult children of her own. Times have changed. I grew up with adopted cousins that knew they were adopted and it made no difference in their standing as members of the family. Before I met Mr. b I always considered that I would adopt at some point when I was older and ready to raise a child. Even after meeting him, I held off on the idea of having biological children and talked about adoption. I still keep the option open.
Yet for most, it seems like the next step is instead insemination. Not too invasive. You have the option of donor sperm if necessary. I guess I can see going that route. Particularly if carrying and delivering your child is of great importance. What about in vitro? There we’re getting into science fiction territory. I’m not sure I could go through that laborious process of tricking my body via multiple injections into not rejecting the foreign matter that’s been implanted in my womb. Surrogacy? How is that different from adoption, besides the genes?
It all comes down to choices of course. Like so many aspects of reproduction. Right now I choose not to get pregnant before I go to France in September for my 10th anniversary. While on the Riviera? All bets are off. And what of my friends and cousins that are struggling? Can they find it in their hearts to be happy for me if I do get knocked up again? Will there be inevitable secret jealousy? I don’t want to have to watch what I say and tiptoe around the issue. I can provide support and empathy despite not understanding that particular struggle.
And I can also provide a different sort of support and empathy to my sister, who is pregnant for the third time. Now I’ve been through it. Now I can truly understand what it’s like. And I’m excited to witness the development of my new niece or nephew with that deeper knowledge. And I hope I get to meet the little cutie before I jet off to Europe!
Fertility is a weird thing. I’ve spent more time thinking about it over the past year or so than I ever have before. Certainly more than when I was "not trying but no longer trying to prevent". I’m moving out of the phase of life when everyone’s getting hitched to the phase where everyone’s starting to make procreation decisions. And for several of my friends and relatives, the ability to make that decision is being denied to them due to flukes of biology.
What does it feel like—-emotionally, physically, psychologically—-to endure getting your period month after month after month when it’s no longer a relief? I got knocked up less than 3 months after going off the pill. I truly can’t relate, though I can certainly empathize. How long do you try before you start testing? We’re brought up as children of the women’s movement of the 70s to believe that we can Do It All, and that means we can take as long as we want, working on our careers and other personal interests, before we get down to the business of self-replication. But biologically, we can’t. There’s a cut-off date. And all the celebrities that have secret help aren’t doing anything to mitigate that myth.
I finally gave in to Mr. b’s longstanding desire for kids because I wanted to start trying before I had turned 30. If there was something amiss, I wanted to have plenty of time to investigate before the magic expiration date of 35. Most of my friends that are trying are already over 30. Do you take an entire year to let nature take its course? Or do you get checked out after only 6 months, so that there’s more time for next steps, should they be necessary?
And what about those next steps? Why is adoption always a last resort? My own grandmother was adopted, though she didn’t learn about the mother-auntie switcheroo until she had adult children of her own. Times have changed. I grew up with adopted cousins that knew they were adopted and it made no difference in their standing as members of the family. Before I met Mr. b I always considered that I would adopt at some point when I was older and ready to raise a child. Even after meeting him, I held off on the idea of having biological children and talked about adoption. I still keep the option open.
Yet for most, it seems like the next step is instead insemination. Not too invasive. You have the option of donor sperm if necessary. I guess I can see going that route. Particularly if carrying and delivering your child is of great importance. What about in vitro? There we’re getting into science fiction territory. I’m not sure I could go through that laborious process of tricking my body via multiple injections into not rejecting the foreign matter that’s been implanted in my womb. Surrogacy? How is that different from adoption, besides the genes?
It all comes down to choices of course. Like so many aspects of reproduction. Right now I choose not to get pregnant before I go to France in September for my 10th anniversary. While on the Riviera? All bets are off. And what of my friends and cousins that are struggling? Can they find it in their hearts to be happy for me if I do get knocked up again? Will there be inevitable secret jealousy? I don’t want to have to watch what I say and tiptoe around the issue. I can provide support and empathy despite not understanding that particular struggle.
And I can also provide a different sort of support and empathy to my sister, who is pregnant for the third time. Now I’ve been through it. Now I can truly understand what it’s like. And I’m excited to witness the development of my new niece or nephew with that deeper knowledge. And I hope I get to meet the little cutie before I jet off to Europe!
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Evolution
In 9th or 10th grade my friend and I decided to throw a formal dinner party for ourselves. Morrigan and I collaborated on a dress (me) and hat (her) combo for our hostess involving lots of black velvet trim and cranberry beading. It was awesome. I decided to try my hand at a sari for myself. I found a bolt of fantastic gold lamé with a mauve flower print. Though I'd never been to India at that point, I thoroughly examined National Geographics to approximate how to wrap it. I wish I had a picture of the 7 of us in our finery, dancing to the Jackson 5.
Several years later Mr. b and I moved into our first official apartment together. We were on the second floor of a duplex (Johnny and Wife1 would later inhabit the first floor) and our bedroom had glass French doors. Clearly curtains were necessary. I dug out my old sari fabric, whacked it in two, and hemmed the ends for the top and bottom curtain rods. It looked really great against the wood trim and white walls.
Another few years passed and I was taking Hindi my senior year at the U of M. Some of my classmates and I started the Culture Club of India. Then we got it into our heads to do a fashion show. I took the lead on that of course. I supplemented my own formal sari and several batik shalwar kamis, purchased during my trip to India that winter, with loaned clothing from local stores. Then I also designed some updates of traditional outfits with a rave-girl's sensibility. My master piece was a pair of extra-wide pajama pants, a slim kurta with gold frogs, and reversible vest. One side matches the pants (a metallic rusty orange -- and I later modified them into a full length skirt for myself). The other side of the vest? Part of one of the old curtains, formerly my first sari. It was nicely full circle for the fabric to be used as Indian clothing again.
This Christmas I made a cute little pleated wrap skirt and pouch purse set for niece A2. I used the remnant I had bought to cut out a teddy bear for my Kaylee costume. I felt bad that I didn't have time to make something for A1 but told her I would for her upcoming birthday. I had decided I wanted to try my hand at the infamous bubble skirt. Going through my boxes of fabric, I rediscovered the old sari fabric. Perfect! I even had tons of muslin left from Kirk's curtains for the lining. So last week I made a bubble skirt with a matching round-bottom, draw-string purse. They turned out simply gorgeous. Coincedentally, my sister's Indian friend adored the fabric.
I still have an entire curtain left untouched. Eventually it'll get used for something new. It's anybody's guess what that will be. I think this fabric is the most recycled of anything in my vast collection of raw materials.
Several years later Mr. b and I moved into our first official apartment together. We were on the second floor of a duplex (Johnny and Wife1 would later inhabit the first floor) and our bedroom had glass French doors. Clearly curtains were necessary. I dug out my old sari fabric, whacked it in two, and hemmed the ends for the top and bottom curtain rods. It looked really great against the wood trim and white walls.
Another few years passed and I was taking Hindi my senior year at the U of M. Some of my classmates and I started the Culture Club of India. Then we got it into our heads to do a fashion show. I took the lead on that of course. I supplemented my own formal sari and several batik shalwar kamis, purchased during my trip to India that winter, with loaned clothing from local stores. Then I also designed some updates of traditional outfits with a rave-girl's sensibility. My master piece was a pair of extra-wide pajama pants, a slim kurta with gold frogs, and reversible vest. One side matches the pants (a metallic rusty orange -- and I later modified them into a full length skirt for myself). The other side of the vest? Part of one of the old curtains, formerly my first sari. It was nicely full circle for the fabric to be used as Indian clothing again.
This Christmas I made a cute little pleated wrap skirt and pouch purse set for niece A2. I used the remnant I had bought to cut out a teddy bear for my Kaylee costume. I felt bad that I didn't have time to make something for A1 but told her I would for her upcoming birthday. I had decided I wanted to try my hand at the infamous bubble skirt. Going through my boxes of fabric, I rediscovered the old sari fabric. Perfect! I even had tons of muslin left from Kirk's curtains for the lining. So last week I made a bubble skirt with a matching round-bottom, draw-string purse. They turned out simply gorgeous. Coincedentally, my sister's Indian friend adored the fabric.
I still have an entire curtain left untouched. Eventually it'll get used for something new. It's anybody's guess what that will be. I think this fabric is the most recycled of anything in my vast collection of raw materials.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Daycare Dossier
We found out earlier this week that K had to fire a family from daycare. It’s the first time she’s had to deal with that. I can’t say that I’m surprised, though I don’t have anything more than a general feeling to point to as explanation. And as tough a decision as it must’ve been for her to make, I do feel a lot better about Kirk’s behavior, comparatively. Especially since K asked us just the other week if we were trying any new discipline techniques at home. Because he had been so naughty, screaming and deliberately repeating actions that he had been told not to do. He’s actually much better now, just-a-phase and whatnot, but I had been doing nascent Time-Outs with him at that point.
Around the same time Kirk was also loosing footwear on a daily basis. Each afternoon we’d pick him up and he’d be missing a sock, or both socks, or a shoe. K always successfully found them—eventually. We took him home without socks a couple of times.
But it’s not all bad and/or weird at daycare. Kirk loves it there so much that as soon as we arrive in the morning he runs off, often before we can even remove his coat! If we pick him up early he’ll crab about missing time with his friends. I’m glad that he’s so well socialized and that he truly enjoys his time there.
Maybe he just enjoys his time there because he has a crush on one of the other Mommies? I got an email from Angelmamma the other day. Her niece goes to K for daycare, too, and her sister said that when she drops her daughter off, Kirk will run to her and stare at her and smile. And once he even brought over a toy that plays songs and started dancing for her! I teased her when I passed her this morning, saying that she’s Kirk’s girlfriend. Kirk’s always liked the ladies; he flirts shamelessly with waitresses and clerks. Hee!
Around the same time Kirk was also loosing footwear on a daily basis. Each afternoon we’d pick him up and he’d be missing a sock, or both socks, or a shoe. K always successfully found them—eventually. We took him home without socks a couple of times.
But it’s not all bad and/or weird at daycare. Kirk loves it there so much that as soon as we arrive in the morning he runs off, often before we can even remove his coat! If we pick him up early he’ll crab about missing time with his friends. I’m glad that he’s so well socialized and that he truly enjoys his time there.
Maybe he just enjoys his time there because he has a crush on one of the other Mommies? I got an email from Angelmamma the other day. Her niece goes to K for daycare, too, and her sister said that when she drops her daughter off, Kirk will run to her and stare at her and smile. And once he even brought over a toy that plays songs and started dancing for her! I teased her when I passed her this morning, saying that she’s Kirk’s girlfriend. Kirk’s always liked the ladies; he flirts shamelessly with waitresses and clerks. Hee!
Friday, February 02, 2007
Family Bed
Kirk’s been on a kick this week where he’ll only snuggle into Daddy’s lap for his bedtime juice-water. Previously he wouldn’t have anything to do with him and would only sit with me before bed. Which is great because Mr. b was feeling unloved. But coinciding with this trend is an increase in sleeping in Mommy and Daddy’s bed in the middle of the night. I’m not sure the connection.
At least it’s getting easier to sleep with Kirk in the bed. He’s able to lay independently. He doesn’t have to have Mommy’s arm under his head. So then I get a chance to roll over to my other side or lay on my stomach or whatever. I still worry about him getting smothered. Not necessarily because he’s in the middle but rather because Mr. b is a pillow clutcher and I’ve definitely busted him laying a pillow across Kirk’s legs before. But Kirk’s much bigger now and can fight back!
Kirk’s also developing bad morning breath. It’s not like gas-mask worthy or anything. But it’s definitely there. His cousin A1 has The Worst Morning Breath in the History of Time. Mr. b claims I am stinky in the morning but really, nothing can compare to that girl’s mouth. So as long as Kirk doesn’t get much smellier, I’m not worried.
His butt, of course, is another matter. Boys. Sheesh.
At least it’s getting easier to sleep with Kirk in the bed. He’s able to lay independently. He doesn’t have to have Mommy’s arm under his head. So then I get a chance to roll over to my other side or lay on my stomach or whatever. I still worry about him getting smothered. Not necessarily because he’s in the middle but rather because Mr. b is a pillow clutcher and I’ve definitely busted him laying a pillow across Kirk’s legs before. But Kirk’s much bigger now and can fight back!
Kirk’s also developing bad morning breath. It’s not like gas-mask worthy or anything. But it’s definitely there. His cousin A1 has The Worst Morning Breath in the History of Time. Mr. b claims I am stinky in the morning but really, nothing can compare to that girl’s mouth. So as long as Kirk doesn’t get much smellier, I’m not worried.
His butt, of course, is another matter. Boys. Sheesh.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Top Bully
I can’t believe that they gave it to fucking Ilan. This feels even shadier than when Ruben beat Clay. Sure, Marcel is a bit of a tool and a douche. But he’s mostly just a self-aware geek who’s been bullied his whole life and has adjusted and doesn’t let it phase him.
Because that’s what Ilan is. A bully. He took glee in tormenting Marcel. He set other people up against Marcel. He wasn’t playing to win for himself but rather to beat Marcel. Marcel may be cooler than Rimmer (though he’s certainly no Ace Rimmer!) but Lister still never bullied Rimmer. He hassled him and teased him but there was no bullying. Same with Gareth (who isn’t half as cool as Dwight). Tim may have played pranks but he never actively wished harm on him. And he didn’t want to frickin’ PEE on him.
I also can’t believe Elia. She was the only one that stood beside Marcel, her former co-worker, throughout the competition. Until the end when Ilan started mackin’ on her real hard. He moved in to her room? Yeah. That was selfless. I have to wonder how long before his girlfriend dumped him after viewing those episodes. Because Ilan and Elia were so sleeping together by the time they got to Hawaii. I started out rooting for Elia to win. By the end, after her whining and bitching and tattling and lying, I wished that Mia had never sacrificed herself.
And then there’s Sam and Mike. Sam is a passive-aggressive dick. He took credit where credit wasn’t due. But I don’t think he was actively trying to sabotage Marcel. That honor goes to Mikey. I shouldn’t be surprised that he would do something as awful as leave a fucking main ingredient behind. That was cold, dude. Cold.
I can’t wait to hear about Marcel’s rising star. Ilan will be forgotten. As well he should. What was with that fake gold chain and the thick red suspenders in the talking head at the end? Gross. Also? You do not bad-mouth Harold. Ever.
Because that’s what Ilan is. A bully. He took glee in tormenting Marcel. He set other people up against Marcel. He wasn’t playing to win for himself but rather to beat Marcel. Marcel may be cooler than Rimmer (though he’s certainly no Ace Rimmer!) but Lister still never bullied Rimmer. He hassled him and teased him but there was no bullying. Same with Gareth (who isn’t half as cool as Dwight). Tim may have played pranks but he never actively wished harm on him. And he didn’t want to frickin’ PEE on him.
I also can’t believe Elia. She was the only one that stood beside Marcel, her former co-worker, throughout the competition. Until the end when Ilan started mackin’ on her real hard. He moved in to her room? Yeah. That was selfless. I have to wonder how long before his girlfriend dumped him after viewing those episodes. Because Ilan and Elia were so sleeping together by the time they got to Hawaii. I started out rooting for Elia to win. By the end, after her whining and bitching and tattling and lying, I wished that Mia had never sacrificed herself.
And then there’s Sam and Mike. Sam is a passive-aggressive dick. He took credit where credit wasn’t due. But I don’t think he was actively trying to sabotage Marcel. That honor goes to Mikey. I shouldn’t be surprised that he would do something as awful as leave a fucking main ingredient behind. That was cold, dude. Cold.
I can’t wait to hear about Marcel’s rising star. Ilan will be forgotten. As well he should. What was with that fake gold chain and the thick red suspenders in the talking head at the end? Gross. Also? You do not bad-mouth Harold. Ever.
Giant Grasshoppers
Eifelheim, by Michael Flynn, was yet another book recommended to me by my aunt-in-law. It was amazing. In 1348 an alien spacecraft was stranded in the woods outside of a small village, as yet untouched by the Black Plague, in southern Germany. The village priest, local skank, and head of the lord’s soldiers discovered the survivors and, after initially thinking they were demons, realized they were hurt and succored them. The lord allowed them to stay as vassals while they worked on ship repair.
The main story was bracketed by occasional chapters set in the near future or an alternate present. In them a couple, he an historian and she a physicist, were poised on the edge of individual theoretical breakthroughs, that just happened to intersect. And the village of Eifelheim, neé Oberhochwald, was the key.
This book was completely engrossing. There were so many philosophical discussions, both natural and religious, between the aliens and the priest as they struggled to understand each others strange ways. And there were so many surprising revelations, such as the aliens completely misinterpreting Christianity and thinking that Jesus himself was an alien overlord who could possibly save them. It was a fun device to have the Paris-educated priest assign Greek terms like "mikrofon" and "atom" to the vastly superior alien technology and scientific knowledge. But also realistic that he would be able to grasp the ideas and see them as something real and not magic.
And the ending! I was reading the final chapters on the bus and just quaking with joy-infused excitement. The way that everything came together was so beautiful and perfect and right. Truly awe inspiring.
The main story was bracketed by occasional chapters set in the near future or an alternate present. In them a couple, he an historian and she a physicist, were poised on the edge of individual theoretical breakthroughs, that just happened to intersect. And the village of Eifelheim, neé Oberhochwald, was the key.
This book was completely engrossing. There were so many philosophical discussions, both natural and religious, between the aliens and the priest as they struggled to understand each others strange ways. And there were so many surprising revelations, such as the aliens completely misinterpreting Christianity and thinking that Jesus himself was an alien overlord who could possibly save them. It was a fun device to have the Paris-educated priest assign Greek terms like "mikrofon" and "atom" to the vastly superior alien technology and scientific knowledge. But also realistic that he would be able to grasp the ideas and see them as something real and not magic.
And the ending! I was reading the final chapters on the bus and just quaking with joy-infused excitement. The way that everything came together was so beautiful and perfect and right. Truly awe inspiring.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Kirk Who?
Having my sister do daycare for the first year of Kirk's life is great for when we need a babysitter; she's always super excited for a chance to spend time with him. And he has a blast spending the night at his Auntie's and playing with his cousins. So we try to use that option on occasions like last night. Mercurial Rage had a fancy cocktail party/photo shoot for their record cover and I wasn't about to miss that! We had a wonderful time and I danced til my feet couldn't dance no more. During the festivities Mr. b got a message saying that my sister didn't want us to pick Kirk up right away in the morning; she wanted more time with him. Aww. Happy to oblige!
But then this morning my sister called with a different plan. My mom was babysitting our nephew and so my sister wanted to take Kirk and her girls up there so all four cousins could play. Sounds reasonable except for a few small details: my sister is notoriously slow, my parents live an hour away, and we wouldn't have a clue when she'd be returning the boy to us. But who are we to begrudge Kirk a chance to play with his cousins and go on an Auntie adventure?
Mr. b and I had a great day. Lazed around, loud sex, driving and shopping without any regard to getting home in time for naps. But by 6:30pm I still hadn't heard from my sister to say that she was on her way back down. At that rate, Kirk wouldn't get home until bedtime. Ridiculous! Sure enough, when I called to investigate, she was doing laundry. And it's those little instances where she completely disregards other people's schedules that remind us why we no longer use her for daycare. I'm confident that Kirk had a wonderful time. But I would have liked to have seen him, oh, at all today.
But then this morning my sister called with a different plan. My mom was babysitting our nephew and so my sister wanted to take Kirk and her girls up there so all four cousins could play. Sounds reasonable except for a few small details: my sister is notoriously slow, my parents live an hour away, and we wouldn't have a clue when she'd be returning the boy to us. But who are we to begrudge Kirk a chance to play with his cousins and go on an Auntie adventure?
Mr. b and I had a great day. Lazed around, loud sex, driving and shopping without any regard to getting home in time for naps. But by 6:30pm I still hadn't heard from my sister to say that she was on her way back down. At that rate, Kirk wouldn't get home until bedtime. Ridiculous! Sure enough, when I called to investigate, she was doing laundry. And it's those little instances where she completely disregards other people's schedules that remind us why we no longer use her for daycare. I'm confident that Kirk had a wonderful time. But I would have liked to have seen him, oh, at all today.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Mommy & Daddy are Idiots
We fucked up. Mr. b and I fucked up big time.
Kirk started cough-puking again sometime after midnight on Friday. Of course he didn't have anything in his stomach by then so all that came out was phlegm. We brought him in to Urgent Care as soon as it opened Saturday morning. At that point he was at least keeping water down.
The Urgent Care doctor explained that it's extremely common for babies to vomit during intense coughing. Lord knows I've hacked hard enough to nearly trigger my gag reflex. She said this whatever-it-is has been going around and it's viral, so we just have to ride it out. She suggested we put Kirk on the BRAT diet (my new favorite acronym--Bananas, Rice, Applesauce, Toast) and give him Pedialyte and popsicles to keep up his energy. He was obviously quite worn down by then since he hadn't been able to eat since lunch the day before. She said specifically to stay away from all dairy products and anything else that may irritate his stomach.
So he was fine the rest of the day Saturday. Couple of naps, lots of liquid, no relapse. He was fine Sunday, acting like his old self and genuinely hungry again. And that's where we fucked it all up.
We were lazy about dinner. Who wants to cook on a Sunday night? So we opened a couple of cans of beef ravioli. Kirk ate shitloads. Then before bed, I let him have some milk. He had had a small amount before his nap--but his stomach had still been fairly empty. This time? "Valley Forge, barf city!"
It was awful. The poor little guy threw up over and over and over. We changed his jammies three times before his stomach was emptied. By the end we were so inured to the gross that we were just catching little half-digested bits of ravioli in our bare hands. He finally was able to fall asleep about 10:00pm and had some Pedialyte a couple of times in the middle of the night.
I felt so bad. We both felt so bad. We totally jumped the gun and Kirk was the one that had to pay. I don't know how long we're supposed to keep him on BRAT, but clearly it wasn't long enough.
Since he doesn't have a fever and really isn't acting sick--apart from the puking--we sent him to daycare today. Apparently 4 out of the 6 kids there had vomit sessions over the weekend. All attributed to a different reason. So it was applesauce all around for the little ones today. And we'll just take it easy for the rest of the week. Lord know I'm sick and tired of doing sick-covered laundry.
Kirk started cough-puking again sometime after midnight on Friday. Of course he didn't have anything in his stomach by then so all that came out was phlegm. We brought him in to Urgent Care as soon as it opened Saturday morning. At that point he was at least keeping water down.
The Urgent Care doctor explained that it's extremely common for babies to vomit during intense coughing. Lord knows I've hacked hard enough to nearly trigger my gag reflex. She said this whatever-it-is has been going around and it's viral, so we just have to ride it out. She suggested we put Kirk on the BRAT diet (my new favorite acronym--Bananas, Rice, Applesauce, Toast) and give him Pedialyte and popsicles to keep up his energy. He was obviously quite worn down by then since he hadn't been able to eat since lunch the day before. She said specifically to stay away from all dairy products and anything else that may irritate his stomach.
So he was fine the rest of the day Saturday. Couple of naps, lots of liquid, no relapse. He was fine Sunday, acting like his old self and genuinely hungry again. And that's where we fucked it all up.
We were lazy about dinner. Who wants to cook on a Sunday night? So we opened a couple of cans of beef ravioli. Kirk ate shitloads. Then before bed, I let him have some milk. He had had a small amount before his nap--but his stomach had still been fairly empty. This time? "Valley Forge, barf city!"
It was awful. The poor little guy threw up over and over and over. We changed his jammies three times before his stomach was emptied. By the end we were so inured to the gross that we were just catching little half-digested bits of ravioli in our bare hands. He finally was able to fall asleep about 10:00pm and had some Pedialyte a couple of times in the middle of the night.
I felt so bad. We both felt so bad. We totally jumped the gun and Kirk was the one that had to pay. I don't know how long we're supposed to keep him on BRAT, but clearly it wasn't long enough.
Since he doesn't have a fever and really isn't acting sick--apart from the puking--we sent him to daycare today. Apparently 4 out of the 6 kids there had vomit sessions over the weekend. All attributed to a different reason. So it was applesauce all around for the little ones today. And we'll just take it easy for the rest of the week. Lord know I'm sick and tired of doing sick-covered laundry.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Cough & Puke
Kirk's been puking today. It's really weird and I'm kind of concerned because I just don't know what's wrong. He's not feverish. He doesn't have a cold beyond the January sniffles that everyone has right now. But three times now he's coughed really hard and then thrown up. He did it last night while asleep; Mr. b discovered the mess at 4:30am when Kirk woke up and called for us. He was fine today though, until I was making dinner. Coughing fit, then puke, all over the kitchen floor. The nurse line advised us to not feed him, not give him milk, and only give him clear liquids like juice or water. But then shortly before bedtime the same thing happened and he threw up all the juice he'd drank! I'm paranoid about him now. He's sleeping peacefully but of course he's no longer propped up on his pillows. I'm afraid if I try to move him he'll wake up. I don't think we need to go to the emergency room when Mr. b gets home from closing the café tonight or anything. But I do think we should go to the urgent care in the morning. I just don't want it to be something in his lungs or something weird and old fashioned like the croup.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
