Category Archives: Andy

Jun6

Wherein this becomes, temporarily, a “Mommy blog”

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Wherein this becomes, temporarily, a “Mommy blog”

Boogermonkey will be in first grade in the fall, and for a long time we’ve known that he’s operating on an academic level well above his peers. The official label for kids like him (99th percentile in reading, 91st in math) is “Talented and Gifted,” or TAG, and that distinction is fraught. You’re accused of bragging about your kids, teachers don’t often understand or have time or want to differentiate (even though state law says they have to provide work on their level & at their pace), and then people try to say that you are saying their children aren’t smart or whatever. “Everyone is gifted,” they’ll say. Or they don’t believe you when you tell them, “He’s reading The Graveyard Book.” They say you’re making it up to make yourself feel better, that you think you’re better than other families.

And you know what? FUCK THAT NOISE.

My kid is really fucking smart. And that is a fact. Just like he has curly hair and a wicked sense of humor and brown eyes and runs really fucking fast. I’m not trying to make anyone else feel bad when I say that he knows how to tell time & understands the concept of fractions, and if you do perhaps you should look into fixing those feelings of inadequacy because they are categorically not my problem.

What is my problem is where my child attends school. The school he’s at has very low ratings, both objectively from the state and subjectively from school ranking sites. There are kids in his class now, at the end of Kindergarten, who do not know how to count to 100 or write upper and lower case letters. Even average kids are getting shafted in a situation like that. Kids like Boogermonkey are going to get bored. He’s already getting bored. His teacher says he’s “very chatty” and doesn’t sit still very well. Only 15 minutes a day of recess will get any kid antsy. Jeez, lady. I can’t fix that. Did I mention there hasn’t been a single parent-teacher conference all year and there has only been one field trip?

Lucky for Booger, and for kids like him, our school district has a public charter school for TAG kids and he’s enrolled for first grade. A girl from his class is going to be his classmate and we went to the meetup at the school today. Dudes. There is a vegetable garden next to the playground. There is a Lego Robotics club. The PTA goes to Salem to lobby for better school funding (hello, legal issue close to my heart).

I can’t fix every school. Every school should have a garden and longer recess time and extracurriculars and frequent field trips and all the awesome stuff his school in Eugene had and his new school in Portland has, too. I can’t really do anything about the other schools until I’m part of the PTA going to Salem & lobbying for improvements, but I can and will celebrate when this one thing goes right.

Jan23

Did Liberace’s mother go through this?

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Did Liberace’s mother go through this?

Boogermonkey told me yesterday that his shoes were too tight. So we went around the corner to the local kiddie boutique, where shoes were on sale today, but no luck. After asking twitter for local shoe store ideas, we headed to Burch’s.

There, on the sale rack, sat the most perfect pair of shoes my five-year-old son had ever seen. Glitter. Hearts. Rhinestones. A rainbow on the toe. When they didn’t fit, he was crestfallen. Lo, another pair. Silver. Glittery. Lavender. With a chihuahua charm on the lace. Again: too small. Third time? Mary Janes. Sparkly. Pink.

Are we seeing a theme?

In the restroom, for Gurglebutt needed to use the facilities, I had a chat with son-the-elder about this sparkle attachment. I told him that loads of people don’t think it’s ok for boys to like pink or sparkles. He didn’t understand. Why not? He loves pink. He just wants the sparkly shoes.

In the end, he got “boring” navy trainers, but the very kind salesman found sparkly silver laces.

“I like gold sparklies best, but I’ll take these,” he conceded.

This concession came, incidentally, after a long back & forth over how disappointed he was that NONE OF THE SOCKS WERE SPARKLY.

I live in Eugene. Long hair, dresses on boys, whatever. No one here cares. And if they do, fuck them. My son likes pink. But in that bathroom, I had bit of inner turmoil. My sociology self, the one who recognizes gender constructs as bullshit, fought with all the voices of all the people who don’t understand that. Over all of them came MomVoice, the one who asked, “what harm will it do if he wears pink shoes?”

The answer, of course, is none. But all those Other voices are real, too. The voices who don’t think it’s ok for him to have long hair or wear a tutu. The voices that say those things are “for girls,” implying girl!stuff is lesser-than, not good enough for boys, are somehow emasculating.

He’s five. Pink won’t hurt him. Sparkles won’t hurt him.

And women aren’t lesser-than, thankyouverymuch.

Sep29

He is so proud of himself!

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He is so proud of himself!

This is the photo Boogermonkey took with Cousin Awesome’s camera and took 2nd place in the junior division at the fair last month.

Yesterday, he got his very first check in the mail, written in his name. $4, which is a fortune when you’re 3.5. I had him sign the back, endorsed it myself underneath, and headed to the bank, hoping they’d cash it without proof I’m his mom. Benefit of living in Podunk: tellers who know me, know my kids, and cash a check signed by a preschooler, no questions asked.

Aug13

You can see me on the news!

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You can see me on the news!

And it’s not because I cut someone for talking stupid!

(photo credit: KATU.com)
Wednesday morning, Congressman Peter DeFazio (D-OR) held a town hall right here in Podunk.  I had a question prepared, I dressed nice in case I got called on, I strapped Gurglebutt to my back in the Ergo, and I packed cheerios & frozen blueberries in my purse.  I let Boogermonkey bring his magnadoodle.  And when we got to the community center, it was PACKED.  They’d reached capacity – 200 people – at 8:00, when it wasn’t scheduled to start until 9:30.  I didn’t want to turn back.  I knew they had a PA system, they could just pipe it into other parts of the building – the library is attached & certainly big enough!  They had a better idea.  Take us outside into the parking lot.  It was a beautiful sunny day, not too hot yet.  400 people – most elderly, mine were two of three children in the audience, and I was one of a handful of 20-somethings.

(photo credit: Registerguard.com)
And I did get to ask my question. You see, there are a LOT of falsehoods circulating on the web about HR3200.  A lot of people think it mandates government-funded healthcare, or that deathsquads will be rounding up the elderly, or that taxpayers will fund abortions, or other such nonsense.  All of this is spurred on by people like Glenn Beck, Bill O’Reilly, and Sarah Palin (the last put something on her facebook page about it.  Idiot).  I wanted to know what Congressman DeFazio was doing to counteract the misinformation.  Holding 14 townhalls, putting the truth on his website, developing a 10-page PDF debunking the weird e-mail that’s circulating, and e-mailing constituents, he says.

Good luck with that, dude. (photo by Booger.  You can see him snapping shots at the Register-Guard video link, and the rest of his photos at the Picasa album)

But really, all this misinformation has me ANGRY.  Really fucking hopping mad.  HR3200 isn’t government-funded healthcare.  It’s insurance industry regulation, something that has been a long time coming.  It provides a way for those of us who need healthcare to get it through private industry, to choose on the free market, without worry about pre-existing conditions clauses, medication class exclusions (antidepressants, inhaled medications, birth control, etc.), that sort of thing.  People here illegally – anywhere from 8-12million people, so about 2.5-5% of the population – won’t have access to coverage because it will be means-tested, meaning you have to prove citizenship to get it.

(photo by Booger)
All of this information is readily available, yet people are STILL asking “will abortion be funded?”  and “What about the illegals,” as though an entire class of people can be reduced to a single noun.  Grammar!FAIL.  Also: your xenophobia is showing.

(another photo by Booger)

I got into it with a friend on Llamaface’s facebook feed today.  I couldn’t take it.  I snapped a little.  I laid the smack down, really.  Because he was parroting talking points, and I don’t stand for that.  Have a little respect for your education and mine (we went to the same school as undergrads) and read a little, at least.  Form some legitimate complaints.  Because if you come at me with some worthless Bill O’Reilly shit, I will eat you for lunch like a fucking ham sandwich.  In the end, he realized he was getting nowhere, I knew a bit about what I was talking about, and we agreed that I’m really hott (yes, two tees) when I rant, and sex is funny.

(my kid is a genius, seriously)

Helen Philpot, a woman my grandmother’s age, nails why I feel so angry about all of this.  Take it away, Helen:

And what’s all this crap about killing your grandmother?  Are you people honestly that stupid?  This has become less an argument about healthcare reform and more a statement about our failed education system.  Margaret, I don’t know what plans you’ve made up there with Howard, but down here with Harold, we have living wills to determine how we will leave this world when the time comes.  Mine states that unless the feeding tube is large enough for a piece of pie, I don’t want to be hooked up to it.  Harold, of course, says his can only be connected to him if the other end is connected to a bottle of single malt scotch.

Now shame on me for making a joke about a serious subject, but if these morons are going to show up and scream at their elected officials, they need to educate themselves about the subject at hand.   No one is planning on killing you or your grandmother with rationed healthcare or death squads.  By the looks of the American citizenry turning out for these town hall meetings,  we’re doing a fine  job of killing ourselves with fast food, cigarettes and an overindulgence of ignorance.

(guess who took the photo.  go on, guess!)

No one is trying to take your Medicare away.  No one is going to force you to give up your insurance plan.  You want proof?  Sit down with a legal dictionary & read all 1,018 pages of HR3200.  Or you could use your critical thinking skills.  Geico & Progressive have pulled their ads from certain timeslots on FoxNews because of the things those commentators were saying about HR3200; if the insurance companies, which will be regulated more heavily if HR3200 passes don’t even want to be associated with the people saying nasty things about the bill?  UR doin’ it rong.

Jul12

been a long time since I rock & rolled

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been a long time since I rock & rolled

The longer I go without blogging, the easier it is to go another day without blogging.  I post a lot to Twitter, and on Ravelry, and text messages to people.  I take video with my cell phone and put them on flickr.  I take pictures and put them on Picasa.  But writing here, for whatever reason, seems like so much more work, but I know that’s dumb.

So, where have I been the last six weeks?

We’ve played in the backyard, gone to Main Street to draw with chalk on the sidewalk, played at the park, gone on errands for Nana, run into my past at the grocery store, and missed Llamaface as he lives in Portland and visits for 3-5 days every two weeks.  We’ve gone to Farmer’s Market, made new friends, reconnected with old ones.  I have a book to edit for an old friend who is a step ahead of me in the “get the words out of the brain and into the world” department.  There are “My Grandmother Is Going Crazy” stories to tell, another time.  There are narratives to share, another time.  There are more photos to share, another time.  For now, I leave you with some of the most important photos, and the links to the rest of the pictures in the albums.
While Uncle Awesome & his daughter Cousin Awesome were here, we went to Saturday Market.

 

 

Didgeridoo player               Cousin Awesome & Boogermonkey

The Water Tower Bucket Boys                Uncle Awesome (both photos by Booger)

We went to the beach to spread Mom’s ashes.

Apr28

Because this deserves a longer post than Twitter allows

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Because this deserves a longer post than Twitter allows

I was going to post this to twitter, but I wanted to expound and 140 characters just isn’t good enough.  So a blogpost it is!

Boogermonkey, now quickly approaching three-and-one-half, has expanded his imaginative play by leaps and bounds.  At 15 months, he pushed my mother’s rolling pin along the floor, making vroom noises, like a vacuum.  I’ve twittered about his obsession with being a knight & fighting (and feeding cupcakes to) dragons.  Today, he put two knit balls on top of silicone cupcake holders and called them ice creams.  Despite being orange and turquoise, they are, apparently, lemon candy flavored.  He licked the turquoise one, making the most hilarious face as he realized mohair feels weird on the tongue.  Now he’s in his room and there are “nemmenems” on them, just like when we went to Coldstone and he got a single coated chocolate candy piece put on top of his child-sized serving of half vanilla/half chocolate.  They didn’t charge for the single candy, bless them.

He might be headstrong.  He might need to learn to keep his damned feet off his brother.  He might need to be cajoled into eating something more than goldfish crackers for lunch.  He may need to curb his tantrums, especially when something he wants is out of stock.  But for all that, he is an incredible kid and I am lucky.  That is a cliché, and I am aware of that, but it’s true.

My kid is awesome.

Dec13

parenting is surreal, part I

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parenting is surreal, part I

Boogermonkey, balancing a wooden car on a pile of blocks: This car is on top of the Mexican airplane.

Me, befuddled: A Mexican airplane?

Him, pointing to his toy bus next to the pile of blocks: Yeah, and the bus is in the kitchen.

Me, o_O: In the kitchen?  Why is it in the kitchen?

Him: Yeah!  Because it’s a driver!

Me, o_O: Where did you learn about Mexico?

Him: Yeah!  Because Daddy didn’t show it to me on my globe.

Me: Daddy showed you Mexico on your globe, oh okay.

Him: No he didn’t!  It was on my globe!

Nov10

It’s that time again

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It’s that time again

Party time!

(click for big)

andys-invite.jpg
If you were at Andy’s 2nd birthday party, it’s at the same place (my mom’s house). If you’re new and need directions, let me know. It’s super easy to get there, but I don’t want to publish my mom’s address on the intertubes.  E-mail jen[at]gonzopants[dot]com to RSVP so I know how many cupcakes to make :)   Also: in lieu of gifts, please make a donation to Toys for Tots or a similar organization.

Oct21

my kid the shutterbug

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my kid the shutterbug

Boogermonkey decided today that he wanted to take pictures with my camera. I’m of the mind that kids should learn things like photography & knitting as soon as they show an interest, so I put the strap on his neck, told him “look through here and push the button when you like what you see,” and sat back. He spent about an hour taking pictures of every thing in the house. Everything. Every. Thing. Here are some of the best ones

From Andy’s shots
From Andy’s shots
From Andy’s shots
From Andy’s shots
Sep24

Yes, even there

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Yes, even there

Before nap a few days ago, Boogermonkey and I were talking about g-d.  We’ve been attending Saturday morning family services at a local synagogue since we moved to Portland, and one of the songs we sing includes a part where the Rabbi asks each child in turn where g-d is.  Answers have included “in the song,” “in Mommy,” and “in my shoes.”  All correct in context, since the whole point of the lesson is that g-d is everywhere.  So Booger is naming places where g-d is today and the exchange went something like this:

Him: G-d is in the flowers?
Me: Yes.
G-d is in the dirt?
Yes.
G-d is in the cheeks?
Yes.
G-d is in the chin?
Yes.
G-d is in the forehead?
Yes.
G-d is in the penis?
::slight pause as I reflect on my child’s genius::Yes.

So I’m not officially Jewish, and I haven’t really talked to people about what’s going on with this, but this is kind of my way of announcing to the four people who still read my blog that I’ve started the (long and winding) process of conversion.  Step 1: find a shul.  Step 1a: like the shul.  Step 1b: get involved at the shul.  At least, that’s how I’m looking at it.  In there is also “take a crash course in Hebrew reading,” “start devouring online resources about living a Jewish life,” and “stop feeling like I’m crashing the party every time we go to Shabbos morning services.”  Officially, I have to take the Oregon Board of Rabbis Intro to Judaism class before the rabbi in charge of conversion at this shul will take me on as a student, but I have to wait until the spring to do that, because it costs money that I don’t have right now, so for now I’m just getting as involved as I can, and feeling really good about the whole thing, once my crippling fear of rejection is sufficiently shoved down.