End of an era.

For a variety of reasons, tomorrow is going to be the last day that Squirms and I spend at home together in uninterrupted stay-at-home parent and child situation.

I never, ever thought I would be a not-working-outside-the-home parent. But it's really been the most enjoyable two and half years. Yes, there were times when I thought my face would melt off from playground induced boredom. Yes, I've despaired at what has become of my education and aspirations. But I've been lucky to always live in an urban, intellectual, walkable, wealthy area and we always made the most of it. I loved cuddling with her late in the mornings, and eating breakfast in my pjs, and going to library and having lunch with friends whenever we wanted to. I loved reading to her, and steering her clear of crappy toys and books and tv shows, I loved that we had time to hang out and not be rushed when we saw each other. Obviously, this isn't the right thing for everyone, but it was for us. I think Squirms eats better, sleeps better, is more literate and numerate, watches less tv, is more independent, and more affectionate because she's been home with me. I think I've learnt to be more respectful of other parents in the world (who the fuck knows who has a secret law degree!) and generally patient with life. I swear less (a bit less!). I don't buy tabloid magazines anymore.

We've had a good run.

These are the people in your neighbourhood

It's been eight whole days since I last wrote, becuase I was shocked into silence over the response to my last post.


KIDDING!!!!!


I have just been really busy and/or lazy.

I've been busy with kid stuff and uni stuff and gathering and reconsidering and then returning and then buying new versions of Christmas presents to send to my dear friends and fam at home in the O.Z.

That necessitated about six trips to the post office, of which today I conducted three and the last led me to this nasty human. Allow the story to unfold...

~~~~~~~~~~~~ doodle do doodle do doodle do wiggle-fingers-make-Wayne's-World-dream-sequence-noise~~~~~~~~~~~~

So I finally finalized all my presents, wrapped and labeled them at home and took them to Post Office A. At this point Squirms and I had just come from yoga and we were walking down the street all bourgey-suburban holding hands and it was nice and pleasant. As soon as we arrived a woman came to the door and put up a sigh saying 'Office closed for computer malfunction'. It was like a scene from an movie set in the Depression, where just as our hero is getting to the front of the line for jobs at the canning factory, an old man walks out with a sign saying 'no work here'. Boo.

So we walk back to the car and head to Post Office B. At Post Office B I wait nicely in line and Squirms waits squirmily in line then we get to the front, fill out a page long customs for and then, THEN, the lady tells me I can't send perfume to Australia. Oh BULLSHIT. I fought it a little bit, but the way that the Post Office clerks kept consulting with each other and pointing at regulations that said things like "may be hazardous" and "if wrapped improperly", and me being a lawyer and knowing the difference between the language of obligation and the language of authorization, made me think this was just a matter of their judgement, so if I just took that shit home and relabeled it 'cosmetics', we wouldn't have an issue. So I did, and that led me to Post Office C.

At Post Office C there was a Christmas tree with ornaments. Squirms dropped to the floor as soon as we went in and was, no kidding, patting the ornaments when the clerk yelled at her to stop touching the tree. So I got her back, we wait, I get to the front with my box of cosmetics and pick Squirms up to keep her with me while we sort out the mailing. On the counter is a stuffed toy dog with a Santa Claus hat and a bell on top. So, Squirms starts wiggling the bell and making it ring. I asked the clerk if she could hold the dog, and she says no, she doesn't want her to break it. Break it. A stuffed toy dog. Then she turns to the man next to me and says personally, I would never let my child touch someone else's stuff. Some people have no respect for other people's things. So fine, she's a mad bitch. So *I* picked up the dog and was wiggling it around for her making its hat ring. The lady snatched it out of my hands and was all really don't touch it she'll break it. Oooookkaaayyy... so now the lady is not a mad bitch but acting like an *actual child* DON'T TOUCH MY PRECIOUS THINGS YOU'LL BREAK THEM!! She was not sharing like a big girl.

I wanted to say to her: lady, you work at the Post Office. That means at Christmas, people will come in and want to mail packages and since you only open Monday to Friday from 9-5, that means sometimes they will have children. So if you don't want them to play with the toys you have lying around, maybe don't put toys around. That was a motherfucking toy dog in a Santa hat. A toy for children. And she was guarding it like it was the Arc of the Covenant.

But I didn't. I finished writing the label and then let Squirms hold the plastic biro while I paid. Which the lady also proceeded to snatch back, becuase, hey, who would let a child practice air-writing (not chewing, not drawing) with a 25c plastic biro to keep them occupied while their parents paid for their goods? Blargh. At least we were done at that point.

You may be wondering what was the response of the man to whom the commentary on my parenting skills was addressed. Well, since his English was not great, and he was sending a package to Italy, which the clerk had just yelled at him to relabel, since he had addressed it Italian and this is America! You have to write in English!, he just kind of went, yeah, heh heh and ignored her.

I have no idea how that package is going to find its way to the actual address in Venezia, Italia, that she made him cross out and rewrite in English to Venice, Italy.

Anyway, I was all steamed up about this (and no shit, I nearly cried in the Post Office when she snarked at the Italian Dude) and then I was like, hey whatever. You have a terrrrrrible job. You're probably way more poor than me and you're black and you live in the South. People probably treat you like shit all the time. I can take it. In the end I was glad I wasn't a bitch back to her.

False Advertising

So Squirmy's going to be starting day care in January. All the day care centers around here actually call themselves "pre-schools" so that all the parents around here can double-think their way to the idea that pre-school is like, necessary or something. Problems with that?

• Going to work if you want to or need to fine
• Staying home is also fine (I personally dig the 'sticking it to the man' aspect of this choice- but if it's not for you, sweet)
• Day care is fine
• Kids don't need school when they're 18 months old
• Capitalist consumption is bad.

Seriously, there is so much to consume to make sure your child grows up on the straight and narrow. Fortunately, you only have to be a semi-conscious individual to just ignore the shit out most of it.

Anyway, Squirms was all ready to go to one center, until I found out that I had been duped! Duped I tell you! This place was no ordinary day care center. Oh no, it was a FUNDAMENTALIST CHRISTIAN ACADEMIE FOR TOTS. And believe me, as I know you do, if I had known this was what that place was like I would never have enrolled her there in the first place. It was never mentioned to me. It was never raised at all. The place was new (since May 2009) and it wasn't on their website at all at first. I think as the business began operations, they built up their website to include this small fact. Because they are in the business of providing bourgey parents with a soul-soothing academic environment, of course, they have a "curriculum". Let's take a gander at their "curriculum":

"...presents the universe as the direct creation of God and refutes the man-made idea of evolution.

“The lessons flow from the Word of God, through the heart of the teacher, to the heart of the student.”

“Students need a realistic view of history, government, geography, and economics based upon the foundational truths of the Scriptures.”

“…uplifting history texts that give students an historical perspective and instill within them an intelligent pride for their own country and a desire to help it back to its traditional values.”

“They give a solid foundation in all areas of science -- a foundation firmly anchored to Scriptural truth.”

“But as Christians, we still believe that the Bible provides the only credible explanation for the universe, of man, and of language.”

The first clue I got about the God stuff was when I went to pick her up after a trial visit one day, and there was some Jesus music playing. I tried to think charitable thoughts like "maybe this is a CD with all kinds of cultural songs on it and they will also play Hava Nagila and Frere Jacques". Then I saw a poster with their theme of the week. The theme was sharing. The poster said "sharing is a biblical concept". Then I looked up the website again and found that shit.

And so today, on the 150th anniversary of the publication of Charles Darwin's 'On the Origin of Species', I would like to say a very hearty 'go fuck yourself' to Dr and Mrs Arlin Horton of the Abeka Curriculum, and the insane schools that use it.

Needless to say, I withdrew her and she's going somewhere else.

Feminist Halloween Costumes

Pic of Halloween in our street
Squirmy didn't get that nick name by being still.

Remember how I so briefly mentioned on Monday that Squirmy likes to pretend things are violins? Somehow, she became a little obsessed with violins a couple of months ago. It may have been buskers at the farmers market, or a segment on Sesame Street, but what ever it was she really began to dig them. This became especially awesome when I discovered I could play NPR Classical Radio in the car instead of bloody Play School or the Beatles. Squirmy's love for John, Paul, George, and Ringo was cute for about a year, but a 12 month audio diet of Revolution gets a little old.

ANYWAY, the violin obsession, plus her sheer terror at the idea of wearing an Elmo suit informed her Halloween costume last month. She went as the violin player in an orchestra. Specifically, Isabelle Ballot Cailliere the First Violin of the Vienna Philharmonic and one of only five women since 1842 to have played as full members of the orchestra. Rock out, right?

Squrims wore black leggings, a black turtleneck, black socks and black patent-leather shoes. Totally cute, warm, comfy, not hazardous, and unlikely to reinforce worrisome gender stereotypes (odd sexualization of small children a whole 'nother post in itself).

Except we couldn't find a violin so she had to carry a recorder. And she didn't really get trick-or-treating. But she did get eating Reese's Peanut Butter Cups for dinner and dancing to the Monster Mash.

Wanna hear some stories about my child?

99% of the time you shouldn't be asking anyone that question; because the answer is "no" but they have to say "yes". Here, I decide what happens. That is the 1%.

Little Squirmy is at a particularly adorable age where she makes up little stories for herself and acts them out with whatever she has at hand. I think I'm supposed to discourage playing with food, but when she's picking up two bits of her dinner and making them say to each other "Hello Mr Capsicum, how are you?" "I am fine" and then narrating a story about how they went on a picnic and then fell asleep, who's going to stop her? She makes pieces of sliced apple kiss and fallen leaves clap hands with each other. If she drops her dolly on the ground she'll pick it up and say "Oh, Dolly, are you ok"? And then describe to herself, "Dolly had a tumble. Dolly's going to sleep now" and then she'll make the snoring noises. Toys and bits of whatever that aren't having conversations, falling down or going to sleep are turned into telephones or violins. It's fun. She just tells stories out lound to herself every minute of the day.

I wonder what at what age our monologue turns internal? I have such a racing, chatty inner mind, I can't imagine what it would be like to narrate out loud my every thought. I think Squirmy almost does exactly that.