rivka

bosssio and I submitted a proposal to do a workshop at SUUSI this year. We just got word that it was accepted! It will appear in this year's catalog, and if people sign up for it we will be SUUSI workshop leaders!

Here's what's going to go in the catalog:

214 Parenting in the 21st Century Limit 12
Is it harder to raise children today? Many parents feel expectations are rising while support is eroding. We'll discuss the social/cultural/economic context of parenting and brainstorm ways to support families. Not a how-to-parent class, all are welcome, parent or not. Infants in arms are welcome. [Siobhan's Name] (anthropologist, international development expert) and Rebecca Wald (clinical psychologist) are both working moms of two, and are Conscientous Objectors in the Mommy Wars.
$10.00 TTh Preferred 14+ 2pm

And here's the long-form description which we provided to the SUUSI staff:

Is it harder to raise children today than it was 30 years ago? Many parents feel that expectations are constantly rising while social and economic supports for families are eroding.

Key questions to explore:
* How has family life been affected by changes in the workplace, in the media environment, in social policy?
* Given Americans' increased ability to limit or delay childbearing, or forego it entirely, how do parents and children fit in to our new kids-optional culture?
* What are the influences - overt and covert - that parents and communities need to be aware of in defining family and the choices available (or not) to us?
* To what extent are dominant cultural messages about the dangers and necessities of family life supported by evidence, and how do these messages warp our perceptions of the family environment?

This is not a how-to-parent class, but rather a discussion about family life. In the first session, we'll discuss the social, economic, and cultural context of family life today, sharing the groups personal experiences as well as discussing research available on changes in the American family context. In the second session, we will brainstorm ways that we can be more supportive of families as individuals, as a denomination, and as a culture.

I am SO EXCITED. And I can't think of anyone I'd rather do this with than bosssio.

I'm on the DRE Advisory Council at my church. It's a small panel of people who provide support and feedback to our Director of Religious Education, and who are available to help sort out any difficulties or dramas that arise within the RE program. I'm counting down my last few months on the committee - I'll be replaced in the fall. I've really enjoyed the work.

Over the next six weeks, we're hosting a series of before-church breakfasts, one for the parents and other interested adults of each RE class. The primary goal is to find out how parents are feeling about RE and what their thoughts are about the future direction of the program. We're also hoping that the breakfasts will help foster a sense of community and will encourage parents to commit to bringing their kids to RE more often. (We have a problem with sporadic attendance.)

I'm facilitating the first two breakfasts. This morning's was for parents in the youth group, and next week's will be parents of babies and toddlers in the nursery. My friend Laura provided breakfast this morning - quiche, fruit, juice, and coffee - and also set a table beautifully, with tablecloth, decorative runner, china, cloth napkins, et cetera. It's amazing, what that will do to make a meal feel special and make the guests feel honored. The parents were quite obviously pleased and touched.

( what we talked about )

The parents present were all highly dedicated church families. (I'm hoping some less involved families come to subsequent breakfasts.) They spontaneously mentioned making a conscious family decision that "church is what we do" - a commitment to be part of the church community and help with church activities. They all agreed that it doesn't work to make a week-by-week decision about whether to go to church, or to allow your kids to see church as optional. "We have to help parents understand that when you go all the time, it's just better. Kids get more out of it, parents get more out of it, the church gets more out of it."

I am particularly interested in this question, about what makes some families commit to church and others remain on the fringe. Back when Michael and I first started attending, we made a conscious decision to have church be our default, rather than waking up on Sunday morning and deciding whether or not we felt like going. That decision deepened our relationships within the congregation and led to us being much more involved in church activities and church governance. But we were both raised in deeply committed church families, so I think that model felt natural to us.

I'm not sure how the process works for other people. In Unitarian-Universalism there is no obligation to go to church, no sense that it's wrong or sinful to skip church, no sense that the minister has access to spiritual gifts you can't get on your own. What makes church a deep part of life for some people, and a when-it's-convenient activity for others?

I will not argue with men's rights activists.
I will not argue with men's rights activists.
I will not argue with men's rights activists.
I will not...

[repeat until believed]

So, on Christmas afternoon we flew to Memphis to spend the long weekend with Michael's father. That had always been in the plan. Somehow what didn't make it into my mental picture of the plan was that we would have essentially zero time on Christmas to do anything other than family presents and then making the trip happen. Like, for example, answering people's e-mails, or warning anyone that we were going to be away and out of contact, or any of those kinds of things. So: sorry that we dropped off the face of the earth like that.

It was a pretty hard visit. Michael's stepmother was in the hospital when we arrived, with diverticulitis, and wasn't released until Saturday. Michael's father isn't doing very well either, although I suppose he's doing better than one might expect given all that happened last August, when we thought Michael was potentially rushing to a deathbed. He's very weak and tired. His blood count keeps dropping inexplicably; he had a transfusion of two units of blood the week before Christmas, and told us that was the only thing keeping him on his feet.

I cooked some monster Southern-style breakfasts and tried, mostly fruitlessly, to keep Michael's father (and his stepmother, when she got home) from exerting themselves on household responsibilities. I tried to create and protect opportunities for Michael and his dad to be together. Alex was much more open and friendly with her Poppy than she has been before, which was nice to see, and I did what I could to promote that. I did a lot of playing with Alex's Christmas toys. I did get a fair amount of rest, at least. Michael's father and stepfather typically went to bed at the same time as Alex, so our evenings were very quiet and relaxed.

I tried to make more allowances than usual for Michael's stepmother, because she was ill and tired and in pain. But really she just seemed like her typically unpleasant self. For the record, in case anyone around here is unclear: it is not okay to predict that a pregnant woman is about to go into labor prematurely. It is even less okay to harp on it to the extent that it begins to prey on the pregnant woman's hormonally-fragile peace of mind even though she knows that she shouldn't pay any attention to you. And when you know that the pregnant woman's last pregnancy ended in disaster? It is really absolutely even less okay, if that's possible.

I'm just saying.

So we're home, later than expected because of some baggage snarls at the airport. The house is a disaster area because we didn't have time to pick up before we left. Alex didn't get to bed until almost 11 - who knows when she'll be up tomorrow. And I got home to a stack of increasingly upset e-mails and phone messages from Lydia, who apparently forgot that (a) I was going to be out of town until Monday, and (b) she had previously expressed no problems with my travel plans and, indeed, had not seemed particularly concerned about whether I was going to be in this week at all.

So, you know, I think tomorrow's going to be a bit of a mess. But it's going to be okay. We have great plans for later in the week, including friend-visiting and dinner-date-with-babysitting and, potentially, couch-buying.

I post this every year on Christmas Eve, but it has special resonance for me this year. It was read during our service tonight, and tears poured down my cheeks.

For so the children come
And so they have been coming.
Always in the same way they come
born of the seed of man and woman.
No angels herald their beginnings.
No prophets predict their future courses.
No wisemen see a star to show where to
find the babe that will save human kind.

Yet each night a child is born is a holy night,
Fathers and mothers--
sitting beside their children’s cribs feel
glory in the sight of a new life beginning.
They ask, “Where and how will this
new life end? Or will it ever end?”
Each night a child is born is a holy night--
A time for singing,
A time for wondering.
A time for worshiping.
--Sophia Lyon Fahs

Alex is fast asleep, hopefully to stay that way until morning. At the NP's advice, we added some Vicks medicated stuff (camphor, I guess) to her hot-steam vaporizer in hopes of suppressing her cough. I wedged her door almost-closed with her sweater, to try to keep in more of the steam. Also at the NP's advice, we sprayed saline mist into her nose in large quantities. Poor kid. Although, man, do I ever appreciate the difference between a three-and-a-half-year-old and a two-and-a-half-year-old. She hated the saline spray, but she submitted.

Today I made three more pans of pumpkin-cranberry-pecan bars and also two pans of cornbread for Michael's work lunch tomorrow. (He's cleaning up my baking mess in return, so I consider it an equitable trade.) Tomorrow I don't have to bake anything. On Christmas Eve I am planning to make two pecan pies for the church potluck. I tried to convince myself that no one would expect me to bring anything to the potluck because I was directing the pageant, but I didn't believe me, so: pies. My compromise is using storebought crust. I can't believe how far I've fallen, except that this is the same kind of crust that I used for the baby shower quiches and they were tasty, so it's hard to bring myself to feel the proper amount of shame.

This evening was the dress rehearsal for the Christmas pageant. ( Read more... )

Dear Rivka,

"You know those people I should probably get token Christmas presents for? Why don't I bake them all something yummy?"

Great idea. Marvelous idea. FOR SOMEONE WHO ISN'T 33 WEEKS PREGNANT.

(And who isn't directing a Christmas pageant. And who will be able to start baking before Alex goes to bed. But the "33 weeks pregnant" item is the one you should've been paying attention to.)

Love,
Rivka,
who is going to go to bed as soon as the third and fourth pans of pumpkin-cranberry-pecan bars are out of the oven. Third and fourth of seven.

I went to the midwife today. ( short summary: all is well. )

In other Niblet news, I am still feeling surprisingly well. Walking is a little uncomfortable, especially when I first start out; everything is beginning to open up and spread out in preparation for delivery. And I have become lazier and less inclined to move around unnecessarily. Otherwise, I feel pretty good. Switching to Prevacid seems to have solved my intractable heartburn issues.

After Christmas, we have a lot of Niblet Prep to do. On the list:

• Alex is signed up for a sibling preparation class on Jan 11.Michael and I need to re-take the hospital tour, because neither one of us remembers their policies and check-in procedures and so forth.


• We need to buy Niblet gear, because although I keep thinking that we already have everything, that isn't really the case. We need: a double stroller (I know she'll be almost four, but we walk a lot), a Diaper Champ, BPA-free bottles and teethers, a new baby monitor, one of those warm insulated carseat covers, diapers.


• We need to figure out where we're putting baby gear in the new house, and get the newborn gear out of the basement and cleaned: clothing storage, pack-and-play/diaper changing table, bouncy seat, co-sleeper, breast pump, carseat. Toys and books can probably wait a while.


• We need to launder baby clothes and baby blankets.


• I need to get my office and my research project set up for my maternity leave.


• We need to meet with Dorian and make all the arrangements for her to be our L&D childcare, including making her a key, teaching her how to install Alex's carseat, and making sure she knows how to get Alex to school.


• We need to make backup childcare arrangements and communicate them to Dorian and to the school.


• We need to meet with my friend Emily, who will be acting as our doula, to discuss labor issues.


• We need to get the guest room ready for Dorian to stay.


• I need to fill out my hospital registration paperwork, birth certificate application, and FMLA paperwork.

Is there any plausible way to switch hairdressers within the same establishment?

Ed has been cutting my hair for years, and he does a fine job. But the last time I went to the shop in desperate need, hoping they could squeeze me in, Ed wasn't there and Neal, the owner of the shop, cut my hair. And he gave me an entirely new hairstyle which I love.

Now I want Neal to cut my hair from now on. But, you know, I can't really imagine coming in and sitting down in Neal's chair in front of Ed. Is there any graceful, friendly, polite, nonconfrontational way to handle this? Assume that brutal honesty is a non-starter.

We put up our Christmas tree today, and made our first Christmas cookies. (Probably our only Christmas cookies, unless I become strangely inspired.) This made for a very busy day, but it was helpful to have something exciting and fun for Alex to do while waiting for the tree branches to descend enough to decorate.

I didn't realize until just before we started baking that she was hoping to make the kind of cookies that you roll out and cut with cookie cutters. They aren't a usual part of my holiday baking repertoire - in fact, I don't think I've made rolled sugar cookies since I was a kid. Fortunately, my mother was home when I called her and had a good recipe. Also fortunately, it turns out that things that seem like complicated baking techniques when you are twelve are not so complicated when you're thirty-five.

We were extremely pleased to have acceberskoorb and lynsaurus come over to help decorate the tree and - in an unplanned but fun side effort - the cookies as well. I am always surprised when I stop and consider just how short a time it's been that we've known them, and how rarely we see each other except in passing, because when we do spend time with them they feel like old friends. I don't know why - it's just very, very comfortable to be with them. So yay.

The tree is beautiful. It's a Douglas fir, about 6 feet tall, very full, and beautifully shaped. It was big enough to take all our ornaments, even though it's standing in a corner and no one will be able to see the back. And it smells amazing. Our whole downstairs has a lovely fresh winter smell to it.

Lots of pictures under the cut, including a rare picture in which I love how I look. ( Read more... )