The Small 'Stute Voice

2008-11-09T07:54:00.001-08:00

Slit has a written a brilliant open letter to white activists. Mandatory ally reading.

Also totally apropos of what was going on in my head around 2:30 a.m. as I lay awake thinking about this. I said last week "this is the civil rights issue of our time" but what's true is it's the civil rights issue that is easiest for me to wrap my head around and approach. I care just as much or more about immigrant rights, but it's a huge and confusing issue that isn't as clear-cut as gay marriage is (for me) and I'm not sure what I can do about it or how. I've been looking for something new to volunteer for since the 8 campaign ended, and I still haven't found something that I'm comfortable with and can fit into my schedule.

Of course, that's privilege too, to decide that it should be convenient for me to get involved or help out. Sadly, some of the people and causes most in need of help are the ones it's least convenient, expedient, or comfortable to help. How much should I push my boundaries? That's actually one of the main questions for me right now, not just on this issue but in a more global way. I don't have an answer, but I have a lot of food for thought.

I'll shut up about 8 soon. Maybe.

2008-11-08T13:47:00.000-08:00

General bitterness:
Andrew Sullivan has some good posts about the failures of the No on 8 campaign. My friend I. and I spent a quarter-hour the other day frothing at the mouth at one another on this very issue. I think the backlash - not neccessarily the court cases, but the grieving communities gathering in the streets and on corners and at churches and city halls - is going to do more for this cause than the No on 8 campaign itself did. I know that when I was recruiting for the No campaign (ahahaha WE RECRUIT) I spoke to two young women who were undecided as to how they would vote and unimpressed with my scripted lines. So I told them why it was important to me. I may even have choked up a bit (I'm an easy crier). They thanked me and went away, and I got a lecture from my official keeper about staying on message. But they came back, ten minutes later, and donated money to the campaign. From undecided voter to campaign donor. That's the power of a personalized message.

Apropos of those protests:

Wistful Jane has created rally signs for the rallies and candlelight vigils, with various sizes and slogans, that can be printed out at your local Kinkos. All are in .pdf form.

Queers United has the most comprehensive list of protest rallies. But if you live on the Bay Area peninsula, here are some more that aren't listed there.

And statewide:
Saturday. Nov. 15th
Join The Impact!
On the steps of your City Hall on November 15th at 10:30am PST / 1:30pm EST, our community WILL take to the streets and speak out against Proposition 8. Organize in your own town!

Tips for rallies: Foamcore board won't sag in the rain the way cardboard and paper do; glue your sign to a piece of foamcore (available at Office Depot). Or make it on the foamcore with Sharpie (regular markers will run!) Leave enough space around the margin on top, bottom, and sides so that you can hold it without obscuring your message.
Tips for candlelight vigils: Most supermarkets, particularly those in Hispanic areas, sell those tall glass devotional candles. There are usually several that are plain, without religious imagery on them; they withstand wind well, cast a nice light, and are easier to hold than tapers, which drip wax. They're fairly inexpensive, last a long time, and make good backups for power outages later on, too. Don't say the Catholics never did nothing for you (see below).
Tips for both: DRESS WARMLY! With rain gear! I say this as someone who is still sick after spending a lot of pre-election time standing in the wind and rain with "No on 8" signs. And bring an extra sign or candle for someone else, if you can; not everyone will be as well-prepared as you are.

Divided We Fall:
And I hate to even have to address this, but there's a lot of finger-pointing going on in the queer community. The black vote passed it! The Hispanic vote passed it! The religious vote passed it! < subtext subtlety=0>Oh, those awful black, Hispanic, and religious people!< /subtext> To which I say, STOP THAT. Stop that NOW. At least thirty percent, and in most cases more, of each of those populations voted NO on Prop 8. Each of those populations contains queer people; they're not mutually exclusive categories. Blame, rather than outreach, will only hurt us all. What is this prisoner psychology that pits us against one another to the benefit of no-one but The Man? Seriously, I tried to find studies on it and only came up with Zimbardo, but there have to be books on this. It's pathological and self-destructive and stupid, and I see it everywhere.

Faith, hope, and charity

2008-11-05T09:49:00.000-08:00

A dearly beloved friend on the left was commiserating with me about the passage of Prop 8, and as part of her frustration, she said to me, "Fucking Mormons!" (The Mormon church gave tens of millions of dollars to the Yes on 8 campaign). And as I was writing my response to her, I realized that this is really something I want to say to everyone. This is important to me. Here's what I said:

Much as I am hating on the Mormon church qua institution right now, I can't hate on Mormons. You know six hundred of them held a candlelight vigil against 8 in Utah, on the eve of the election? A lot of them are fighting their faith on this, and that's huge and brave and amazing.

I guess, as a religious person, these kind of struggles are really hard for me. I hear the left bitterly blaming it on the church - I heard it from almost everyone I canvassed with and everyone I tabled with for this campaign. And they didn't say "some churches," either, they said, "religious people." That's me. And then there are a lot of churches, even from within my own faith, saying these horrible things about queer people, and that's me too.

It is possible to be a person of faith and not a bigot. It is possible to be a bigot and not a person of faith. It is difficult, for those of us whose faith is often espoused by bigoted institutions, to fight through to a place where we can reconcile our own beliefs about what is good and right with the messages coming from religious leaders. I was in a church yesterday morning, at the No on 8 election day hub in their community room, when some asshole showed up and ranted on about how unjust it was that the church had tax exempt status when it was actively opposing 8 and how he "can't believe you people."

There is a religious left in this country. It's largely invisible, because a key tenet of the left is that the church and state should be separate, so we tend not to conflate them when we speak out. But there are many of us - Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Catholic, and yes, Mormon - who believe that our faith provides us, not with an excuse to judge others, but with a moral imperative to work for social justice, for equality, and for fairness.

Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God, and everyone who loveth is born of God and knoweth God. He that loveth not knoweth not God, for God is love." - 1 John 4:7-8.

That's my religion.

Yes, we can.

2008-11-05T08:21:00.000-08:00

With less than 5% of precincts remaining to report in, I think it's pretty clear that Proposition 8 has passed.

This breaks my heart. In the midst of my joy at the Obama victory and my hope for a better future, I heard the pundits proclaiming victory over our bigoted, divided past. I heard them talking about how little brown children everywhere could dream of running for President. Our children can aspire to anything they want in this brave new world, everyone is saying.

Unless they are queer. Then, apparently, they can't even aspire to someday marry the person they love.

I am so disappointed in my fellow Californians, in their ignorance, blindness and intolerance. I had thought we were better than this. I had hoped we had grown. And we have, I suppose - Proposition 8 passed by 10% less than Proposition 22, another anti-gay-marriage proposition, did eight years ago. But it still wasn't enough.

And yet, I went out this morning to get coffee, and as the Squid and I waited to see the train (his treat for grocery store patience; the station is right next to the store) I realized something. Something obvious, but I'm a little slow sometimes to be able to shift perspective, so bear with me. I'm also no historian, so feel free to correct me if I am wrong on this.

The civil rights of minorities have never been established through popular vote in the United States.

They've often bounced back and forth in a few states, through the courts, voters, or state congresses. But it took the 14th Amendment, in the late 1800s, to give Black men the right to vote. Women didn't get the vote until the U.S. Congress passed the 19th Amendment in the 20's. It took the U.S. Supreme Court until 1967 to rule against anti-miscegenation laws. Abortion was illegal in most states in the years prior to Roe v. Wade.

It was not at all uncommon, in any of those cases, for courts or voters or legislatures to grant a right only to have the state constitutions amended to eliminate it later. It sometimes took forty years, sometimes a hundred, for the matter to be decided at the Federal level. I hope that the current struggle will not take nearly so long.

Proposition 8 was one battle, and I am devastated for all of us that we have lost it. But I do believe we will persevere, and that, in the end, we will overcome.

Yes, we can.

Conversations at my house

2008-11-05T07:39:00.001-08:00

Last night....

Himself: I need to pack up the beer so I can go over to the neighbor's house. Do you have a bag?

Me: Sure, I ...

Himself: One that doesn't say, like, "Lesbians Unite!" on it.

Me: It's only my water bottle that says that.* No, here, have a Whole Foods bag.

Himself (taking the bag): Same thing.

* At the poll training for the No on 8 campaign, the couple who had graciously lent us their home provided water for the trainees in sports bottles branded with the Lesbian Equity Foundation logo, left over from some other event, and said we could take them home.

I can't stop crying.

2008-11-04T21:46:00.000-08:00

I have a headache. I'm so happy. I have been crying for like, an hour. Since they called it. And I can't stop. He's going to be President.

And yet I'm still terrified. Prop 8 is currently passing by a comfortable margin (54/46), with 22% of precincts reporting.

I'm afraid this is going to be a bittersweet evening. I hope I am wrong.

Election day loometh

2008-11-02T20:27:00.000-08:00

I didn't say this before, because I feel like I'm preaching to the choir, but just in case...

Please, if you are in California, please vote No on Proposition 8.

This is the civil rights issue of our time.

You can still donate here for last-minute TV ads. Or you can send them an email to see where there's a "rally" near you (that's the people who stand on street corners waving signs) on Election Day. Maybe I'll see you there!

Man's best friend says Yes on 8

2008-10-26T21:05:00.001-07:00

I was out at a farmer's market today with the No on Prop 8 campaign, answering questions and giving our literature and signs. Many voters are confused about what a "yes" or "no" vote will mean, and so the campaign is trying to help clarify that. I asked an older woman and a bearded man passing me, "Would you like some information on Proposition 8?"

"Which one is that?" he said.

"It would amend the State Constitution to eliminate the right of same-sex couples to marry."

"Oh, well, then I'm for it."

I try not to antagonize or engage with supporters, so I said, "I'm sorry to hear that, sir. Have a nice day."

But he didn't keep walking. "You're against it?" he asked, and when I confirmed that I was, he said, "Well, I don't think that's a right, marriage. Next people will be wanting to marry their dogs!"

I stared at him, taken aback. "I don't think anybody's wanting to marry their dog, sir."

"Sure they are! There are all kinds of people! I could show you magazines!"

I recoiled slightly. "Really, that's fine. Please don't, sir."

"I should have a right to marry my dog, then?"

I wasn't quite sure what to say to him at this point. I ventured, "Dogs aren't people. I don't think they have civil rights the same way a person does."

He pursued the conversation with unholy glee. "But I have rights!"

I made some sort of vague assenting noise, hoping like hell he'd go away. You can't argue with weirdos.

The woman he was with started to drag him off through the crowd, but he looked over his shoulder. "I think you underestimate how much some people love their pets!" he said.

...

...Ooooookay, sir.

An open letter

2008-10-25T13:18:00.000-07:00

Dear coordinators of the No on 8 campaign,

I'm thrilled about the new direction the campaign is taking. I love seeing signs at street corners, and info tables at farmer's markets, all over my town. I love that you're giving away yard signs to supporters for a suggested donation, and that you've put together informational pamphlets.

But for God's sake, you waited long enough.

I signed up to volunteer two weeks ago, and was told that phone banking, and only phone banking, was the campaign focus. When I said that I couldn't do that, but I'd happily wave a sign on a street corner or staff an info table, my suggestion was met with doubtful silence. We finally settled on having me recruit other people to phone bank - but when I showed up, I was given a script that contained a very "hard sell" approach for volunteer time and monetary donations, and told to stick to it like glue. Every time my recruitment partner heard me deviate from the script, she came over to correct me.

I asked if there was anything I could do in my local area. I was told that I could continue to recruit phone bankers - but only if I had someone else with me, and only if we did three-hour shifts. When I said that I have a kid and it's hard to commit to a three-hour shift, you nodded sympathetically - and offered no alternatives. I asked if there were any other volunteers in my area, and was told you didn't know. I emailed and asked for informational literature, and got no reply.

Even now, when I heard about the new tabling and informational focus of the campaign and called up to see what I could do to help, I got a lecture about staying on message, not talking to the press, and not organizing anything without the knowledge of the campaign. I get that you don't want to have a bunch of people giving different messages, and I respect that. I get that you want us to be safe, and that you ask us to work in pairs and not counter-demonstrate because of things like this, and I respect that. But grass-roots organizing is by its nature personal, and attempting to stuff it back into a box with a script is (I believe) ultimately counterproductive. There was a dude with a baby in a front-pack at the corner-signage gathering last night, waving a "No on 8" sign and cheerfully informing drivers that "everybody matters!" Is that your message? No. But there was a dude with a baby out there on that corner for your cause.

Let me let you in on a secret, No on 8 people. When you're coming from a group that's seen as a threat to families, your best possible bet is to run a flexible, family-friendly campaign. Hard sells, centralized phone banks, and three-hour shifts are effective for personal campaigns or causes that don't have an identity stigma, campaigns that can use college kids and a few dedicated campaigners to do intensive outreach. But that approach effectively shuts out those of us who need to do an hour or so here and there and then run off to cook dinner, pick the kids up from soccer practice, or go to work. When you play identity politics, you have to let the people with the most marketable identity be active and visible however you can. The Yes on 8 people are saying you are ruining the family, so get the families out there to show the voters that they're wrong.

Your campaign needed to show that it had widespread support, through bumper stickers and lawn signs. Every time someone gave money, you needed to ask if they wanted a sign or a bumper sticker. Your campaign needed to show that it is family-friendly, by giving people the opportunity to come out with their families, or to work around their childcare schedules. Your campaign needed to give people information about the issue and the endorsements you have, to clear up the confusion caused by the other side's lies. And I'm thrilled that you're doing that now, don't get me wrong. But I wish you'd done it a month ago.

Then again, if I hadn't been so damn complacent and sure it wouldn't pass, I could have helped out - and worked to change the campaign strategy - months ago. So we're both at fault.

Love and frustration,
Me

Self-entertainment, socializing, and stock musings

2008-10-18T09:54:00.000-07:00

Spent two ands a half hours last night making lists of things that are universally hot (e.g. competence, smarts, dedication) and universally not (e.g. flatulence, the color salmon, proselytizing) in MS word while drinking beer with Himself and a neighbor. We all had sub-lists, too, of things that we individually found hot but couldn't collectively agree on. And another list called "Things That Are Kind Of Hot About Barack Obama" (he's poised, loves his smokin' hot wife, and is not John McCain, among other stellar attributes.)

Fun is where you find it, I guess.

I'm hoping for a good weekend. A friend is coming to visit us today, and tomorrow in the morning I am recruiting volunteers for No on 8 at the AIDS Walk and then the Fan Club is coming to visit in the afternoon. I was supposed to be at the Breast Cancer Prevention walk this morning, but given that I am still sick, I skipped it.

Please, Lord, I would like for my whole family to all be well at one time sometime soon. Otherwise we should just invest all our savings in whoever makes Kleenex and have done with it. *blows nose*

Squidbits

2008-10-17T08:45:00.001-07:00

September was a hell of a month. And that's why this is late. I'm just recovering. And who knows if I'd be recovering if I were in LA this weekend like I am supposed to be. A surprise cold kept us away from the 96-year old Grammy, whose immune system can't be trusted to withstand toddler snot, so I had two days off to catch up. Of course, then he was diagnosed with child asthma, so we have our first really big health worry. But we had some premonition that this was going to happen. There was the emergency room visit in the middle of September, after all, when he couldn't breathe to say more than a word at a time at eleven at night. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I was just distracted and down for the month. It seems that my tension and anxiety and depression are seasonal as well as chemical, but the ~iatrist suggested B-vitamins and exercise as remedies. I looked at him in disbelief. B-vitamins, yes, fine. But when the hell does he think I can find the time to exercise? No, seriously. He has me on meds that make me sleep 9-10 hours a night, I work 9+ hours a day if you count in my commute, and I need to spend time with my kid, deal with errands, cooking, cleaning, and other life maintenance, and have a little time to myself. I told him flat out that I had higher priorities than working out, and he tried to convince me that it would help my overall quality of life. Well, yeah, duh. So would more hours in the day, independent wealth, or a magic wand, and those aren't especially probable either. I'll try - the Squid's daycare is at the Y, so if I can get him there early, I can (maybe) do 20 minutes on the treadmill before I pick him up. I did a test run last week and it didn't really work (and I missed out on precious kid time) but maybe I just need practice. Gah.

This last month was particularly hectic. Himself was gone for a week and a half, the spaniel went into diapers, the shepherd had lifesaving emergency surgery, and the Squid himself was sick for a good portion of it, including that middle-of-the-night emergency room trip. He was diagnosed with child asthma last week, which means his chances of having it as an adult, given his family history, are now hovering around coin-toss levels, and we spent a lot of time in pharmacies and waiting rooms. There must have been ten vet visits, four or five pediatrician visits, thousands of dollars in medical bills, both canine and human...I don't know. It's all a bit of a blur, honestly. I lost things, forgot appointments, and grimly plowed through the last of my freelance contract with the help of the teenaged girl down the block, who played mother's helper and took the Squid to the park some afternoons.

September, September. The problem, of course, is that I've forgotten it already, except for the highlights, which were more sort of lowlights. Checking back through the last Squidbits entry, many things are holding constant. Preschool - still awesome. Alejandro - still BFF. Verbal hilarity and intentional humor - still going strong. He's started telling little stories - like lies, but they're obviously not intended to be believed. He's talking about things he wishes were true (I see the garbage truck!) and things he wants to make me tell him he's silly for - telling me orange things are blue, that kind of thing, like a proto-joke. He also gets on a roll, with "yeah" or "no" and will respond to pretty much anything he is asked with whichever one he is stuck on at the moment.

People are starting to comment on how articulate he is - his preschool class leader, his doctor, a friend in from out of town - and he is fairly intelligible, it's true. I don't have to "translate" him to others often. Of course, we've let him keep his cutest mispronunciations. "Hoptopter" and "mocomopive" are current favorites, although he was chair-dancing the other day, and when I said, "Look at you dance!" he looked over and grinned, then informed me solemnly, "I wock out." He was late to talk, so the clarity and outside confirmations of his articulateness are somewhat of a relief. He's making up for his early silence now, anyway. He never shuts up. I think we all probably know which side of the family he got that from. /o\

We were sitting at the table and naming body parts the other day, and when I asked him where his nose was he pointed at his ears - just being silly, of course, he knows the difference. And I said, "No, silly, that is your ears!" and immediately kind of went *ack* because, way to model subject/verb agreement, mom. And he looked back and me and said, "These are my ears." He corrected my grammar. He may look almost entirely like his daddy, but there is definitely plenty of me in there, oh yes. He's gotten more bossypants in general - pushing and telling me what to do, though we're trying to discourage the pushing and having the discussions about how hands are not for hitting, you need to use your words, etc. The other day when Himself was beating out a rhythm on his thighs for the Squid to dance to, he danced for a few moments and then went to put his hands over his Daddy's and still them. "No whacking the me, Daddy!" he ordered.

Repetition is here, oh joy. We went down to the train station the other night to watch the trains go by and the release of the brakes was so loud it scared him. So for the last week, we have heard incessantly about how "the locomotive is too loud," and "the train makes loud noises on the tracks," and "I was scared of the locomotive," and "The train makes loud noises and I scared." Over. And over. And over. Next comes the "why" stage, which (as I recall from my brother's childhood) doesn't sound annoying until it arrives and drives you mad. I love it all, of course. I'm so thrilled that he and I can have real conversations! He's even starting to be able to tell me about things that happened in his day when I ask - what he played with, if he had a time out, where he went, what he saw. Before, I had to prompt him very specifically, which meant I more or less had to know the answer before I asked. Now he's got the vocabulary and understanding to convey the info on his own.

He can count to twenty fairly reliably, climb up on the bed by himself, jump, ask politely for things he wants, and copy a circle (sloppily) when drawing. He seems to have gotten the idea of "coloring" - his crayon scribbles are more localized than they once were - and we have our first few pieces of preschool art on the fridge. And now this post window has been open for a week and it is mid-October and I have not finished the entry. So: abrupt end. Perhaps I will do better when I try again in a few weeks.

Thought for the day (toddler mom edition)

2008-10-11T09:21:00.001-07:00

If the Seussian universe is contiguous, then according to the scale provided in Horton Hears A Who, the Grinch is infinitesimally small. Like, a Grinch-molecule, spoiling little Who-molecules' Christmas. Tiny, tiny Scrooge. Which is to say, when his heart grew three sizes, we're looking at an expansion of a few femtometers, if that.

Mental inertia

2008-09-18T19:29:00.000-07:00

I have this problem. It's called bruxism. Which sounds like it should have something to do with witchcraft, which would be kind of cool, but really is just a fancy way of saying I grind my teeth together. Mostly in my sleep or if I have to deal with idiots, but it really depends on my stress levels; sometimes I do it constantly.

It all started after I did too much speed with some friends in the early 90's. We were going out dancing at this club in the city (where I got picked up by a totally hot girl and we made out in the bathroom but sadly I was just fucked up enough to be too embarrassed to call her later and just responsible enough not to go home with her that night and get laid. Sorry, Kathryn, wherever you are.) Anyway, I was really high and even when I went home I was grinding my teeth with how wired I was and I guess I kept doing it in my sleep and have done it ever since, to the point of wearing down my enamel and cracking fillings. Moral of the story, boys and girls: drugs are bad for you in an exciting and wide-ranging variety of ways, not just the ways they make after-school specials about.

Anyway, that was a long time ago. And lately when I've had these bouts (it comes and goes) my jaw has started to hurt. And my body is no longer as resilient as it was, and I live in fear of TMJ. So I finally (finally! after years of knowing about these!) went out and bought myself a night guard. It cost $20, took about five minutes of basic prep to customize, fit like a dream, and I woke up without a headache this morning for the first time in weeks.

Why didn't I do this years ago?

I mean, I thought about it. I just...didn't. It somehow seemed "not for me." I just put my dog in diapers, too, which I'd been resistant to in much the same way. And it's such a fucking relief, I can't even tell you, not to live in fear of what I will find when I get home, not to have to let her out multiple times in the middle of the night, and not to have to worry about the strain her messes put on my relationship. Et voila!

Why didn't I do that years ago?

What other simple, easy changes am I overlooking that could make similar radical differences to my quality of life? Why didn't I think of these before? What makes mental inertia so strong?

Squidbits

2008-09-04T18:22:00.001-07:00

How did it get to be September already?!

Squid is officially two and a half fabulous years old. And what a wonderful little kid he is becoming. He has developed a sense of humor and loves to tell jokes. "What's your name?" "Cars!" "No, silly, what's your name?" "Bugs!" "No, silly, what's your name?" "[Squid]?" "Yes!" *giggle giggle giggle* or modifies bits of favorite books "Could you, could you...in a grocery store?" "Could you, could you ... in a hot dog?" And he adds all sorts of new lyrics into his songs, "Twinkle twinkle little blue garbage truck, how I wonder what you are..." and "Lou, lou, skip to my conductor train...." He even makes up his own songs - about combinations of helicopters, crocodiles, and piledrivers, mostly, though he has an adorable one about being all done with his food, too. He doesn't like to sing them on command, but sometimes I hear him singing softly to himself in his crib after he wakes up, or before he falls asleep at night.

Preschool is going wonderfully. After a few weeks of crying and "don't wanna go to preschool!" in the mornings (I am reliably informed that he had a great time every day once he got there, though) he has finally acclimated, and the past few days has run gleefully off to play without a backward glance. They have wonderful activities and toys - sand play, shells, painting with hands, trains, dolls, play food, shapes...and he comes home grubby and tired and happy every day. He has two friends already, a little boy and a little girl, and yesterday he said to me at the grocery store on the way home, "I love Alejandro! I love Parker!" He also proclaims that he has "fun with Vashti!" (the director) and "fun with Samantha!" (his group leader.) His group, the under-threes, is called the "Bumbles," and every day I get a little report titled "My Bumble Day" that tells me what he ate, what his diapers were like, how long he napped, what he enjoyed, and what his mood and behavior were like that day. I love it!

I am especially proud that he so often comes home with "good friend manners" circled on his report. (Warning: parental gushing ahead.) He is a good friend, and he (genuinely, bizarrely) seems to be truly empathetic to others. He gives hugs and kisses freely, and says to everyone he meets, "Hi! How you doing?" He says "please" and "thank you" and "you're welcome" without being prompted much of the time, apologizes when apologized to and when prompted (he's working on context there) and asks, "you okay?" and says "feel better" when people get hurt. His latest is to yell, "good luck!" at everyone - I have no idea where he picked that up - and he tells his grandparents and his Daddy and me and his caretakers, "Love you!"

I swear this is coincidence - this just happened to be his Bumble report for today.

We went to a neighbor friend's house for Labor Day and the other kids were having a hard time - lots of pushing and grabbing toys away from each other and screaming "no, mine!" And he didn't engage in any of it. When the little girl melted down, he said, "She sad? Take a nap," very solemnly and went to go offer her a toy he had been playing with. I worry a little bit that bossy kids will walk all over him, because when he gets pushed or his toys get taken away, he protests only very rarely. But I would rather have him be sweet and empathetic and wonderful than combative, even so. Which makes me wonder a little, because I'd worry more if he were an unassertive little girl...but that's me and my gender stuff. He's awesome, truly awesome, just the way he is. Like, he is two, and he is supposed to be very "no, mine," and instead he is so bizarrely sweet and generous and loving to everyone that it makes my heart grow three sizes, I swear.

He does howl about things, natch, and he spent some time on Monday gleefully telling me that the train tracks for his new wooden train set were, "No! MY TRACKS!" but it's pretty minimal, and we don't give in to it much, if ever, so it doesn't pay off for him. Still, I don't think this is our parenting, though some secret part of me hopes I am wrong. He came like this. We haven't done anything to fuck it up, which, yay, us! But we didn't make him like this. Kids are born with their personalities largely already formed, I firmly believe. Nurture and society can give coping mechanisms and behavior patterns and perspectives and ideas, but fundamental personality is not something parents get a lot of say in, aside from the choice of the gene pool they merge with. We hit some kind of jackpot with our guy, and I am grateful every day.

(Ahahaha. I wrote all of this out and then walked into the preschool yesterday just in time to see him with an ugly snarl on his face, yowling at a little girl and trying to take her train away! He had to be diverted by Ms. Samantha. *facepalm* Pride goes before, etc., but I still maintain that that's pretty uncharacteristic behavior for him. We went to the neighbor's house later that night, and when he wanted to play with the fire truck toy, he asked the neighbor kid, "I have a turn wif fire truck now please?" Good friend manners, see? Just, erm, also two and a half. Can't anybody be good all the time.)

He's also picked up some very, very adorable linguistic tics from us. "Oh my goodness!" he likes to say. Today on the way to school he said, "Oh, my! See the bus!" and "An excellent garbage truck!" Full sentences, like "The frontloader puts the dirt in the dump truck," "I don't want to eat dinner," "We're going to ride in Mommy's car," and "The grandpa bus is scared of airplanes" are commonplace. (The grandpa bus is a small wooden bus that Grandpa brought back from Madagascar this month, after his scuba diving trip to count fish as part of a reef conservation program.) He also has a new range of activities - playing with trains and pretending to cook, playing with his plastic animals and the guy who drives his toy dump truck and making them interact with other toys. Pretend play is amazing - he likes to tell me that his dump truck guy is "in his carseat" or that he is "da conductor on da train!" Sometimes he makes up long narratives about trains and trucks and "hoptopters" that I can't even follow; they may be coherent, but because the words aren't in an order I expect, I don't recognize all of them. He tells the stories with great animation, however, waving his hands about as he explains, eyes sparkling.

We've caught some lizards in the past few weeks and taken them "home" to the outside, and we found a lost puppy dog the other day and returned it to its house. He's very interested now in where things are when they are elsewhere. "The school bus all gone," he informed me this morning, as it turned left and moved out of sight, and later, "I lost the railroad crossing," so we had a little conversation about where the bus and crossing were when he couldn't see them. He tells me that trains and airplanes and lizards and dogs "go home," that Daddy, "goesta work" or "goes wood shop." I'm sort of hoping that this idea of locations and where things are and where they belong will help us, however tangentially, with the beginning/furtherance of things like clean up, staying out of the street, privacy, etc. And maybe someday with potty training, though he's showing no interest in that at all right now, and we're not pushing it.

My parental anxieties are also a little higher these days, though that's probably true of my anxieties in general, and I'm thinking about talking to the ~iatrist about adjusting my meds.

But with activity and independence comes increased risk, and that's scary. He almost fell down a flight of concrete stairs the other day, driving a toy car too close to them - I was barely in time to catch him and if the car hadn't tipped in such an awkward way, I might not have made it. He ran away from me in the grocery store today and I couldn't find him for minutes and minutes; he was finally returned by a store employee just as I was really starting to worry. I made the little ingrate hold my hand through the rest of the store, though he twisted and complained. He fell off a big kid swing when I was pushing him last weekend, secure one instant and in midair the next, and I caught him by one arm and one shoe and was able to break, though not prevent, his fall. I'm also afraid for the future, because I like to borrow trouble, even though I know it carries a high interest rate.

I kind of want to bubble-wrap the Squid against life, and against growing up, and against change. I am so in love with him that I want him to be happy and bright-eyed and enthusiastic forever and always. But that's not how parenting works, and bubble-wrap has a backlash too. You just do your best with the knowledge and tools you have at the time, love them to distraction, cross your fingers, and hope.

Deep-seated biological urges

2008-08-05T21:23:00.000-07:00

I started bleeding today, and when Himself asked if I wanted anything when he went out, I instantly said, "M&M's! And maybe some Reese's Pieces. Oh, my God, M&M's sound amazing." So, he went out (like the charming partner he is) and came back with M&M's, chocolate Milanos, and two bars of high-quality chocolate, one milk, one dark.

I tore into the M&M's like a starving tiger into a baby antelope, and he watched me munch for a few minutes.

Then he said, "You know, I was in line at the market, and the guy behind me said, 'Excuse me, I'm sorry, I know I don't know you, but by any chance is your wife on her period?' And I looked in his basket. And it was full of chocolate."

I once had a plan to make a million bucks off of a delivery service that would bring chocolate to your door within 15 minutes - like Dominos, only for PMS - but I am no entrepreneur. Idea is free to anyone who wants it, though, because seriously, you could make a killing.

Squidbits

2008-08-05T11:18:00.000-07:00

July was a heck of a month. I wasn't home for a single weekend, though I spend two of those Squidless (*sniffle*) while visiting friends and family, and I had to travel for work. But in the middle of the month we had vacation - a whole week in sunny, delightful Portland, Oregon. If I hadn't gotten sick halfway through it would have been a perfect vacation - we went to a park almost every morning, and almost every afternoon, and saw friends when I was not dying of plague. All photos in this post are my snaps of him from that week.

It was wonderful to be in Portland, which I love dearly and which is like Heaven on Earth in the summertime, and it was wonderful to move at the Squid's pace, doing what he wanted to do and not multitasking him with household chores or my own projects or errands or anything else that I haul him along for at home. I have realized recently how often I multitask people - personally, professionally, and parentally - and I'm trying to be better about it. Failing, for the most part, but at least the light bulb is on, now, so the long slow painful process of incremental change can begin.

In Portland, all those litigation-inspiring toys that have been taken out of California parks still abide. Teeter-totter! Merry-go-round! The Squid was thrilled.

And seriously, why would I want to multitask him? I am enjoying him so much right now. I never thought I would love having a toddler this much, but I really do. He's not too big to cuddle or want to sit on my lap (though that is a mixed blessing, as I discussed last month) and he's still young enough that he lets me kiss him and hug him all I want. He loves to share his world with me, and he's getting remarkably articulate and emotionally savvy. When he cries out of frustration or disappointment, I can ask if he wants a hug, and he'll say yes. He asks to snuggle ("Snug-gle?") and to read books, and he can express enthusiasm for the foods, clothes, or outings he wants.

He's not just in tune with his own emotions, either - we have the beginnings of empathy. He crashed his stroller the other day - toppled it over deliberately with his stuffed moose strapped in. We made him pick up the moose and apologize. He clutched it to his shoulder and petted it. "Awwww," he said. "Sowwy. You okay." When we read The Lorax and the Swommee Swans have to leave the polluted skies of the Truffula forest, he says, "Oh, no! Poor birds." And last night he looked at me, slumped back in my chair with a heating pad over my stomach, and petted my hair. "Mommy tired?" He's such a sweet kid. When we went to the park this Saturday, he played with another little kid and I pushed them on the swing. When a third kid joined them, the Squid was ecstatic. "Two fwiends!" he chirped happily.

Playing at the park that had the chlorinated fountain for all the kids to splash in - we went almost every day

Seriously, he's like the Student Body President of toddlerdom. Sweet, friendly, good-natured, outgoing. I'm not sure how he got this from me and Himself - maybe he's a throwback to a sunnier, cheerier ancestor - but it's a delight to be around. His longest tantrum to date has been about two minutes long, and though he does shout, wail, and whine when he doesn't get what he wants - he's two - he regains equilibrium quickly. He makes friends with strangers everywhere we go, and I'm really looking forward to having him meet the people at his new pre-school. I know they're going to love him. Everyone does.

Of course, today is maybe not the best day for first impressions - he woke up screaming at 1:30 or so this morning, with damp pyjamas, and after a change we put him down in our bed for the night. And he poked and pinched and tickled and kicked and hit me for the next two hours, playing restlessly instead of crashing out. Finally I put him back in his crib - more screaming. His Daddy got up with him for the second round, and they fell asleep on the inflatable bed in the living room around five-thirty, only to wake up again an hour later. By the time I dropped the Squid off at daycare, he was a sobbing mess of tired kidlet. Poor bug. He's just started having the occasional nightmare, and it's so hard on him. And on us. I think tonight might be a good night for watching a movie, maybe our favorite, Microcosmos. ("Watch bugs?")

A snack of raisins underneath a mossy conifer tree at the park

I'm coming to terms with the way we're using visual media with him, though it's more than I ever imagined I would. We use it mostly when (a) one of us is sick, (b) all of us are exhausted, (c) we are traveling on a long trip, or (d) when solo parenting - mostly in short YouTube doses, in the latter case, to allow for showers or dinner prep. His YouTube playlists are broken out by how long each of them is, to allow for various tasks. I still try to do active reading with him of what is happening on the screen, and I don't think he gets more than an hour a day even when his daycare provider lets him watch Dora. And at the new daycare, he won't even have that. I'm sad he's leaving his current setup - they've really been like a third set of grandparents in a way - but he will love having the new pack of kids his age to run with. He needs more stimulation.

Although he's doing fine on the educational front, zooming ahead with language and numbers. We have the whole alphabet, both letter recognition and the sequential song. Also, Squid can recite portions of Green Eggs and Ham ("Coodjoo, coodjoo, inna car? Eeet dem, eeet dem, here dey are!") and sing portions of "The Itsy Bitsy Spider," "You Are My Sunshine," and other favorite songs. I took a lot of the board books we had out and put them away, and I stacked the shelf under the coffee table with Seuss and other "big kid" books. He is enjoying classics like Caps For Sale and The Lorax along with books on insects and the building of skyscrapers. The specialized vocabulary he's developing is both awesome and hilarious. "Combine!" "Mantis!" "Frontloader!" "Hawkmoth!" "Chrysalis!" "Piledriver!" I try to explain everything to him at a level that I know is above his head, as well as doing it at what I perceive as his comprehension level, because I never know what he's going to pick up on.

Our friend who is a union organizer plays letter-recognition games with the Squid using an "ILWU supports Obama" sign

He also mimics my speech patterns. "Excellent!" he proclaims. "Indeed!" "My goodness!" Hee. Mimicry is hilarious. If instructed to "Say 'bye bye,' [Squid]!" he says, "Bye-bye [Squid]!" We are not above taking advantage of the humor potential of this upon occasion, though we'll have to stop as comprehension catches up to repetition. Himself got the Squid to say, "Play with the vaccuum, Mommy!" last night, and went on to encourage him to tell me to fix the baseboards in the kitchen. Sigh.

It's unfortunate that I try to write these posts up at the beginning of the month, as my current cycle ensures that this is the most tired, inarticulate, and generally unhappy time of the month for me, but despite my own state of general uselessness and bleh, I have nothing but good news to report on the Squidfront. He's energetic, healthy, enthusiastic, cheerful, and generally all-around wonderful. I am so very, very lucky to be his mother.

Things I learned on my summer vacation, #57

2008-07-17T22:17:00.000-07:00

If you are far from home and your trusty humidifier, and your sinuses hate you and want you dead, sleeping with a damp washcloth over your face can help.

Er.

Portland, Oregon, I love you like my own - as once you were - but this is not on, do you hear me?

Separation anxiety

2008-07-04T09:22:00.001-07:00

Based on some last-minute decision-making , I am in L.A. this weekend without the Squid. I have mixed feelings about this. I miss him! I have never gone on a trip where I could have taken him and didn't before. And everyone down here is asking me where he is and why I didn't bring him - I've been informed that they won't be letting me in the door next time without an accompanying small person.

On the other hand, it is much easier to rest up from long drives, visit small infants and ninety-something Grammies, and enjoy post-sunset fireworks this way. And he will come down with me for Labor Day weekend, and he and his Daddy are probably going to have an awesome time at home seeing parades and going swimming and having playdates.

Still. My little guy!

*sniffle*

Squidbits

2008-07-02T13:56:00.000-07:00

Squid is a big boy! He asks for me to read big kid paper books instead of board books sometimes - Green Eggs and Ham ("Eggs, Ham!"), The Seven Silly Eaters ("Da Peters?"), and The Sneetches ("About da Sneetchis?") are favorites. Of course, he's still not following the larger narrative, and the import of the stories is totally lost on him, but he sits and listens for the whole book. He likes to identify nouns - "da train!" "da dark!" - and the things he zeroes in on are often totally peripheral to the story or even the picture on the page. (The Sneetches is, according to him, about a rock, a ball, a key, a car, another rock, and a fish - go figure.) He still likes his board books - he can even "read" them along with me a lot of the time, since he has them partially memorized - but he's branching out.

Squid's alphabet song goes A-B-C-D-E-F-H-I-J-L-um-um-um-P-U-R-S-oo-V-T-double-oo-X-Y-an-Z-A-B-C-D-umm-singa-MEEE. His number line goes 1-2-3-6-7-8-9! 11-12-13-16! He can identify all the letters and numbers (through 9) on sight, but the sequencing still sort of escapes him. He's pretty fascinated by it all, though, and sings the alphabet song constantly, watches the Sesame Street DVDs about numbers and the alphabet ("watch ABC?"), and points out letters he knows in books and other print. Daycare may push some of this, but we haven't at all - we're encouraging his interest in it the way we encourage his interest in trains or fire trucks or anything else. It's neat to watch, though.

Language proceeds apace - he's a little chatterbox, and he's in the repeating stage where he just says something over and over until we respond to it. He's got all kinds of new nouns - "Q-tip," "crane," "termite," "garbage," "airport," etc. - and some new adjectives and verbs as well. He has learned the word "scared" but I don't think he really knows how it applies yet, as he is not really scared of anything as far as we can figure out. He tries it out in different contexts and we agree or disagree as appropriate. He's got a couple other things that aren't quite right - like he asks to "go home" a lot when we are already home (I think it's his way of saying he is over whatever is going on and wants to do something new). He still fills in sentences with Squiddish babble, and I often have to tell him I don't understand what he is saying, but he gets clearer and more articulate all the time, and he's pretty patient with me when I don't get it. Though that's the extent of his patience - delayed gratification is still not in the emotional vocabulary. (I don't think that one comes until the early to mid-twenties.)

Helpful Squid helps sweep the floor!

He's hit another physical fast-forward period as well. He's faster and wigglier and climbier than he was last month. He has learned to jump (the initial efforts were hilarious, involving crouching low and then straightening up really fast, without actually having his feet leave the ground) and has started dancing a little again, including an awesome foot move that looks a lot like stationary moonwalking. His sense of balance has developed, I think, to a point where he is comfortable with moving his feet in new ways - he also navigates the jungle gym at the park with meticulous care and great attention to where his weight is distributed. They say all kids this age are "little scientists" (I could have done without the experiment in liquid dynamics that involved pouring my coffee all over the couch, let me tell you), but it is nowhere more evident than at the park. I swear I could see him learning things about slope a few weeks back, and his attention to balance and force and momentum lately is clear.

We've also been running into some issues with my need for personal space. Frankly, I'm not super-surprised; I was expecting this to happen way before now. I remember talking to my online mamas group about it when I frequented them. Basically, I need personal space. I'm not averse to hugging or cuddling with people I know and like, but I don't like to have my space presumed upon, and the way toddlers crawl all over their mothers has always really geeched me out. I am not a jungle gym, a beanbag, or a trampoline! "Oh, it will be different when you have one of your own," people airily assured me, but you know what, people? Eff off. I'm pretty self-aware, and I know what bothers me.

Though for years it didn't, and I kind of hoped those people were right after all. But he's recently gotten much squirmier and more active, and also clingier, and it is making me nuts. He is up on me all the time! With his pointy elbows and knees and bossing me to make me hold the book just so or make my lap more comfortable for him! Augh! I mean, I don't blame him, let me be clear about that. Toddlers have no concept of personal space, and he loves me and wants to spend time near me...very near me...all the time...*twitch*. I mean, in some ways it's sweet, and I do love to cuddle with him when he's, well, cuddly - but I can't appreciate it when he wants to be both close and active. A few days ago I snapped at him in exasperation, "Stop climbing on me like I'm not a person!"

I feel like a freak for being so...non-maternal, in some ways. I think the personal space thing was part of why I hated breastfeeding, too - another body on me all the time was really hard to take - but I've never heard any other mother say anything like this. Am I really such an outlier, or is this just another one of those things "good mothers" don't talk about? Not that it's that important. I mean, eventually he and I will work it out. We're practicing reading with him sitting beside me rather than in my lap when he is being particularly squirrelly, and I'm picking him up and carrying him around less (at 30 pounds, that needs to phase out for the health of my back more than anything else). We'll adjust; I firmly believe that I can be loving and have personal boundaries at the same time.

But he's also going through the first phase of separation anxiety he's really had since a week or two when he was four months old. Or, not separation anxiety quite (though that's part of it - he wants both of us in the room with him at all times) but he's having real trouble with transitions, and it's made him extra-clingy. Squid hates change. Any change. Diaper change? Noooo! Clothing change? Noooo! He cries piteously when we leave the house in the morning and again when we drop him at daycare. Then he cries when we pick him up to go home! He cries when he goes into the bath, and then he cries when we take him out.

Although the anti-water bias is getting better, I must say, with hot weather. He still whimpers about going into the pool, but he actively asks for baths, showers, and handwashing on warm days, and water play with buckets or a hose is big with him. He will get his face wet (finally!) and can kick himself across the pool with a pool noodle to hang onto. The transitions in and out (and into and out of swim diapers/clothes) are still occasions for distress, but once he's in the water, he's enjoying himself. We hope to have him swimming - keeping himself afloat - very soon, for safety as well as fun purposes. The neighbors have been awesome about opening their pool to us whenever we like, and the YMCA has daily open swim sessions, so we'll have plenty of opportunity to practice, particularly once he starts up at the daycare that is housed at the Y, in August.

Curious Squid ain't afraid of no Dalek.

Oh, no! Exterminated!

As for the state of the mama, well. I am tired - low-level, PMS-driven exhaustion - and July is going to be busy in a myriad of ways (I am gone every single weekend, between work and family). But I will get to visit friends in Los Angeles, Portland, New Jersey, and New York, spend time with my Grammy, my mom, and my friend's new baby, and get involved in new projects at work, all of which are good things to do. June was sort of a difficult month, in some ways, and I wonder if my meds need to be re-calibrated, as I have been sadder, less patient, and more tired than circumstances warrant, but I will talk to my ~iatrist about that in August if it continues. Alcoholics Anonymous wisdom says never to make decisions when you are HALT - Hungry, Angry, Lonely, or Tired (in my case one would have to add "Hormonal" as well), but seriously, one or another of those conditions is semi-constant for me, so I'll have to muddle through and just be thankful that my life is materially and situationally so comfortable that I can coast for a while if I need to. I am grateful for that, as for so many things.

The line between work and other things sometimes blurs

2008-06-20T20:51:00.001-07:00

Hey, am I crazy, or would Wordle make a really good first sort when trying to figure out qualitative coding schemes?

the thing Ira Glass would just like to say to you with all his heart

2008-06-19T11:20:00.000-07:00

There's a great series of videos of Ira Glass giving advice on storytelling up on YouTube. But for those of you who, like me, dislike video/audio information formats, I've transcribed the most striking bit below:

"All of us who do creative work, like, you know, we get into it. And we get into it because we have good taste. Do you know what I mean? So you've got really good taste, and you get into this thing, like, I don't even really know how to describe it, it's like there's a gap, for the first couple of years that you're making stuff, what you're making isn't so good, okay, it's not that great. It's really not that great. It's trying to be good, it has the vision to be good, but it's not quite that good. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, your taste is still killer. And your taste is good enough that you can tell that what you're making is kind of a disappointment to you? You know what I mean? Like you can tell that it's still sort of crappy.

"A lot of people never get past that phase. A lot of people at that point they quit. And the thing I would just like to say to you with all my heart, is that most everybody I know who does interesting, creative work, they went through a phase of years, where they had really good taste, and they could tell what they were making wasn't as good as they wanted it to be. They knew it felt [sic] short. And, you know, some of us can admit that to ourselves and some of us are a little less able to admit that to ourselves. But we knew, that, like, it didn't have that special thing that we wanted it to have.

"And the thing I would say to you is, everybody goes through that. And for you to go through it, if you're going through it right now, if you're just getting out of that phase, or if you're just starting off and entering into that phase, you gotta know that it's totally normal, and the most important possible thing you could do is do a lot of work.

"Do a huge volume of work. Put yourself on a deadline, so that every week, or every month, you know you're going to finish one story, do you know what I mean? Whatever it's going to be, like, you create the deadline. It's best if you have somebody who's waiting for work from you, somebody who's expecting a work from you. Even if it's not somebody who pays you, but that you're in a situation where you have to turn out the work. Because it's only by actually going through a volume of work that you're actually going to catch up and close that gap, and the work you're making will be as good as your ambition is."

This struck such a chord with me. Logically, I know it's nothing I haven't heard before, but the way he describes it is fresh - a gap between taste and ability - and God, if I could only consistently follow this, it would change my life. So far, no luck on the consistency, but a little inspiration never hurts.

Goin' to the County Registrar....

2008-06-17T09:32:00.000-07:00

I just dropped off a bouquet of flowers at my County Registrar's office for them to give out to a couple today. There were couples everywhere getting licenses, getting interviewed by the press, getting married on the steps and in the chapel. The lady behind the desk said they started giving out licenses at 7 a.m., and everyone in the office was beaming. The news was full of interviews with people who were finally, after fifteen, twenty, thirty, fifty years of partnership, getting married. I cried, I was so happy, and I can't stop smiling. I woke up grumpy and out of it, but how can I be snarly in the face of this? Congratulations to all the couples getting married today; I could not be happier for you, and for all of us, that this is finally possible.

Conversations

2008-06-13T11:20:00.001-07:00

Child to mommy (walking by my house): Mommy, why is the sun a star?
Mommy: What do you want it to be, cheese?

Squid (playing): Yayyyyy!
Me: Are you a happy guy?
Squid (squealing delightedly): Happy guyyyyy!
minutes pass...
Himself: Hey, guys!
Squid (now whiny, underfoot, and wanting food): Cooking? Eggs? Up please?
Me (attempting to redirect his attention): Can you tell Daddy how you're a happy guy?
Squid (whimpering, sobbing, clutching at my pant leg): Happy guyyyyy!

Woman in drugstore, to man: Say it again!
Man: You were right.
Woman (almost moaning with pleasure): One more time.
Man: I was wrong.
Woman: Oh, god, that feels amazing.

Me to Himself: [Squid]'s pyjamas were wet again this morning. I think it's just that he's drinking more with the hot weather.
Himself: Maybe we should staple a bunch of those silica gel packets around the crib.
Me: You mean to dessicate him?
Himself (eminently reasonable): Well, yeah!

Chatty man at gas pump (talking to me about gas prices): I just do what I told my ex-wife to do all three times she was in transition - laugh through it!
Me (thinking to myself): Three times?! That is the most indecisive transsexual I have ever heard of!
...
Me (finally getting it): I bet that won you points.
Chatty man: I did mention she was my ex-wife, right?

Art in motion

2008-06-11T20:18:00.001-07:00

Here are two fascinating things I've found via internet friends and wanted to share. These are not-quite-but-almost new genres of art; strange and wonderful fusions, at least, and I'm totally captivated by what these people have done. I could never be that person, the person who dedicates their life to realizing a new creative pursuit, but that makes me admire it all the more.

First up, a man who is creating new forms of life. He sets his "creatures" free on the beaches to wander, and hopes that eventually they will be entirely self-sufficient. For what they can do, they are deceptively simplistic structures, and he's obviously been perfecting them for years. I am really touched by his protective and proud mien and his love for his creations; less like a God and more like a shepherd, though if the Bible is to be believed, the two aren't mutually exclusive.

Theo Jansen: The Art of Creating Creatures

Next, something more disturbing - if weird Bosch-esque images bother you, don't watch this, because there's a lot of emesis and decapitation. But it's graffiti animation, which is just totally amazing to see in action - his evolutionary infants and insects crawl and morph over what looks like a whole city block, followed by the faded ghosts of their passage, and it's mesmerizing, if a bit gruesome.

MUTO a wall-painted animation by blu

Department of missing the point entirely

2008-06-09T19:18:00.001-07:00

I was sitting in the doctor's office the other day and idly picked up some fashion magazine or other.

There was an article in it that recommended twelve separate makeup products (I counted!) that one should purchase for use on one's eyes, lips, skin, cheeks, brows, and lashes in order to "achieve the nude look."

Um.

I do not think that word means what they think it means, is all I am saying.