Archive for parenthood

Also, someone should have told me that I have chubby knees.

March 13, 2010 · Filed under me me me, parenthood · Tagged , ,

Look what we finally got around to purchasing:

Yes indeedy, a floor mirror. This purchase was actually a pretty big deal for us, considering that Adam and I have been cohabitating for almost 11 years and have never owned a full-length mirror. Well, technically, that’s not quite true. The first place we rented came with a full-length mirror on the back of a closet door, but there was no light in the closet and the mirror had a ripple distortion thing going on. So if you wanted to check your outfit, you had to bring a flashlight and then convince yourself that you didn’t really have three breasts. We didn’t use it that much, except during parties, when we were like, “FRIENDS! STEP INTO THIS HERE CLOSET AND COUNT HOW MANY BREASTS YOU HAVE!” It was similar to a chummy game of Clue or Monopoly, except more psychologically scarring.

Barring that particular mirror, we never had another full-length. If I needed to check my pants or shoes before leaving the house, I would stand tiptoe in front of the bureau mirror. But mostly I just hoped for the best and then squinted really hard at my reflection in elevator doors or store windows. Grocery-store windows always worked fairly well, though I’d often have to contort my body to keep the Sale! posters from getting in the way. And even then it seemed like “THIS WEEK ONLY! RIB EYE ROAST $3.99 PER POUND!” always prevented a really accurate glimpse of my waist.

Which, if I’m being frank, was the point. I don’t like looking at my reflection all that much. And if I do get too good a look, then I immediately find something lacking, whether it’s the width of my thighs or the shape of my lips or myriad other issues. I’ve always been this way with photos of myself, too. It was only recently that I realized this little phobia now involves someone other than just me.

“Mommy, why don’t you let Daddy take more pictures of you?” Aura asked during a family outing a few weeks ago, as I was ducking away from Adam and the camera.

“Oh, well, I don’t always like the way I look when I see the pictures,” I replied.

Then it struck me. A lot more comments like that might lead to a lot less of this:

I don’t know if being dissatisfied with your own appearance is the result of too many supermodels in magazines, or a misunderstanding of modesty, or simply a hallmark of being a woman. But in this household, it has to stop, or at least start to stop. I may not be able to guarantee that Aura will always be as carefree and content with her appearance as she is now at three years old, but I damn well have to try.

Step 1:

Thank God for baby steps.

Comments (17) »

And to think that all Harvard is worried about is its endowment.

March 8, 2010 · Filed under growing up, parenthood, reality check · Tagged , , ,

Inspired by what has become a swath of unseasonably warm weather, Aura and I headed over to Harvard Square today for a little exploring. As we were tooling around the area, I decided to formally introduce Aura to Harvard itself. “Maybe you’ll want to go here someday!” I chirped sunnily to Aura, ducking through one of the many arched gates that dot Harvard Yard.

A minute or so into our tour, Aura had already stopped listening to my speech on the importance of higher education, preferring instead to climb staircases and run on the lawns. I was soon reduced to talking to myself, raising my voice during the important parts to regain Aura’s attention. “Schools like Harvard are certainly a possibility IF YOU BUCKLE DOWN,” I yelled. “Never forget that MERIT SCHOLARSHIPS can be yours!”

It was somewhere around the time I was explaining college’s potential for “LIFELONG FRIENDSHIPS!” and “SELF DISCOVERY!” that I first noticed the many flyers dotting the campus. The more of them I read, the softer my diatribe became.

By the time I finished reading these, I was starting to change my tune. “But there is certainly nothing wrong with smaller, lesser known schools!” I called to Aura as she whipped back and forth in front of the famed Widener Library. “Many state schools produce a DIZZYING array of successful graduates!” I cried out,  pulling Aura back toward one of the campus gates. Every time a passing student smiled at Aura, I glared in return, muttering things like “Sexual deviant!” under my breath.

Then I saw this flyer.

It wasn’t until Aura started tugging on my hand that I realized I had been standing in front of this particular flyer for an unnecessarily long time. But…vajazzled? In a legendary place of higher learning? The editor in me took offense with the j in place of a g, the proofreader in me bemoaned the underline in place of italics, the music lover in me reared back in horror by the bastardization of jazz.

And the mother in me? “FORGET WHAT I SAID,” I announced to Aura, scooping her up and racing for an exit as fast as my legs could carry us. “THIS IS NOT THE SCHOOL FOR YOU.”

Another day, another $48,868 per year saved. And Aura will never touch a stick-on jewel again.

Comments (17) »

Ooh, heaven is a place at Chuck E. Cheese.

March 2, 2010 · Filed under parenthood, the way I see it, truth through toys · Tagged , ,

Heaven—its existence, its contents—has gotten a lot of play over the centuries. Hemingway, unsurprisingly, thought heaven might be a bull-fighting ring. Longfellow imagined infinite meadows. Dante proposed a divine hierarchy of sorts. And we’re all pretty familiar with the Qur’an’s promise of a paradise flush with virgins.

To be fair, all of these predictions were made before American suburbia was in full swing. I’ll even stick my neck out here and presume that Dante never even visited a Chuck E. Cheese. For if he and the others had, if they had indeed breathed in the aroma of overpriced pan pizza and been nearly deafened by the sound of buzzing and beeping game machines, they would have witnessed heaven in its purest, most exact earthly form:

Skee ball.

I ask you: Is there anything more heavenly than the perfect thwump of a ball landing in the 5,000 point hole? Can you think of anything more divine than watching prize tickets pour out in a long, kinked paper chain? What, what, can possibly exceed the pleasure of watching the points counter go up and up, and up again?

Yeah, that’s right. NOTHING.

Well, I guess Muslims might disagree. Because judging from the number of kids there, the place wasn’t exactly packed with virgins.

As for hell? That’s easy. Hell is the sound of those mechanical animals’ eyeballs opening and closing. Creeeeaaaak click. Creeeeaaak click. I wish I could have gotten audio and embedded it here. Let’s just say it’s like the sound of your worst nightmare, times, oh, TEN TRILLION.

Comments (10) »

« Previous entries
Next Page »