Silicon Valley Moms Blog

Happy New Hair

Like most years, I'm starting 2009 with my standard "lose-10-pounds" type of resolution (No, really.  This time I mean it.  I really do need to lose those 10 pounds).  This year I'm adding something new:  Get a Haircut.

You'd think a haircut would be no big deal:  waltz into a hair salon, point to a picture in a magazine, and forty minutes later, walk away with a nice new bob.  I do want a haircut; in fact, I've been waiting for this haircut for almost 2 years, ever since I decided to donate my hair to the Locks of Love program.  My hair wasn't long enough back then (it takes at least 10 inches of hair in order to be used in a hairpiece), and it's taken all that time to grow.  I don't think I've ever had it this long before, and I've had enough.  It's thick and wavy, and frizzes up into an unmanageable mess in the mornings and on humid days.  I'm shedding hair all over the house, and washing and brushing it has become a nightmare.  Every time I pull my hair up into a ponytail, I can feel the weight of it tugging against my hairline.  So I'm really reeeeelly ready to get that haircut.

Facebook and nursing

Dear Facebook,

You're great, you really are.  Thanks to you, I've reconnected with my high-school classmates, college roommates and all of my ex boyfriends.  I can see where my globetrotting cousin lives now and check out photos of the kids of co-workers from a decade ago, without even having to pester them.  I can send hi's and hello's to friends old and new without bothering to update the emails in my address book.

So it was with surprise and dismay that I read in my local paper today that you've made it a policy to remove user-posted images of women breastfeeding their babies.  Just a few clicks over the internet told me that lactivists have been up in arms about this since September of last year.  The Facebook group, "Hey Facebook, breastfeeding is not obscene", born out of that outlash, is over a year old, and even though it now has over 54,000 members, you still continue to classify breastfeeding photos as obscene content. 

Facebook, I breastfed each of my three children (yes, even the twins) for their first fifteen months.  Let me tell you, nursing breasts are in no way sexually obscene.  Or even sexual.  Just ask my husband.  Swollen, veiny mammaries?  Huge, leaky nipples covered in sores from unsuccessful latching attempts? Are you kidding me?  Motherly, yes.  Natural, yes.  But sexual -- well, you'd have to be into some pretty weird stuff to be getting your kicks from that.

Who needs Christmas Cards? (I do)

Here's a thought:  in order to save some money this holiday season, why not pare down the holiday card list?  Or do away with it altogether?  I first seriously considered it last year, when I was sweating and swearing while getting the kids to pose for Christmas photos in mid-October (we left for an extended vacation on December 5th and I had to get everything done extra-early).  I'm thinking about it again this year now that I've given up my gym membership and canceled our Christmas cookie party and set the kids' presents budget to $20 per person. 

Our christmas card list runs at one hundred and twenty people, give or take.  I usually order 150 because I don't want to run out (my kids sometimes mess up their signatures so badly I need to throw some away, and I'm sure there are at least 10 families I've overlooked and won't remember until I receive a card from them).   At Costco, it costs $199 for 150 nice folded cards I always want to order and $38.95 for the plain flimsy photo cards I always end up ordering.  (And if anyone can figure out a way to come up with 150 cards for less than $38.95, I'd like to know about it).

This Nutcracker is driving me Nuts

This holiday season is an extra special one for The Pea; she's appearing in her very first Nutcracker ballet.  She's going to be an angel, the first step for legions of little girls in full-length ballet productions.  She can't wait to tiptoe onto the stage in her white gown and halo and wings.

As her proud mother and lifelong Nutcracker fan, I'm more than happy to support her.  I took her to the auditions in August.  I've been taking her to rehearsals every weekend since October.  Signed up to volunteer with costume distribution, ticket sales, props assembly, backstage parenting.  Paid a "participation fee".  Sold tickets to my sister and her family so we could all cheer her stage debut.

Oh, did I mention that her part is three minutes long?  Including the tiptoeing on and off the stage?

The signs of fall

We're having a warm weekend in Palo Alto:  up to 85 degrees today, and high 70's over the next two days.  Eighty-five!  My kids are still in shorts and tank tops, and I have laundry drying on the clothesline.  Lord, I love California.   

I will admit, however, there is something picturesque and romantic about the changing seasons. I do miss walking through the crunchy, colorful leaves in Boston and knowing fall has arrived.  My boys keep asking me, "Mama, is it fall?  What season are we in?".   

Fear not, boys.  We may not have the beautiful fall foliage of New England, but there are other, unmistakeable signs that fall has arrived.  Here's what I look for:

10) I feel like I'm approaching menopause; I'm freezing in the morning and roasting by mid-afternoon.

9) It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown and Happy Thanksgiving, Charlie Brown suddenly have a 3 week waiting list at the library.

Families at the No on 8 Rally

I wasn't sure how I was going to convince my family to come to the No on 8 rally in San Jose today.  My husband couldn't see the point.  "I know it sucks, honey, but it passed.  No point in rallying about it now...".  The kids were no better.  Saturday morning cartoons or a rally?  Stay in pajamas and play with Playmobil toys, or stand around and wave signs?  Hmmmm....

In the end, it was The Pea who did it.  I told her I wanted to go because I wanted to show my support for equal marriage rights, because I thought two women or two men should be able to marry.  She thought about her good friend H, and her friend's two daddies, and what a great family they are, and decided to come along.  In a rare display of sibling affection, her brothers said they didn't want to spend the morning without her.  My husband said I might lose the kids in the crowd, so he'd better go as well.  So off we went.

Are my sons gay? I hope not

It's hard to find little boys exhibiting more typical little-boy behavior than my twin preschoolers.  Consider:

* At the age of 7 months, they began fighting over the only toy in the house  with wheels on it:  their big sister's old Elmo garbage truck.
* Their artwork consists of violently drawn circles ("those are race cars going round and round the track, mama"), squiggly lines ("laser beams") and Star Wars characters.
* I have to "let them out" into our back yard (or playground or some other outdoor space) at least once a day to run around, yell, and let off steam.
* Their favorite stuffed animals game is called the Webkinz Ninja Fighting Game.

And yet... and yet.  Consider this:

* Their second favorite stuffed animals game is Webkinz Tea Party.
* They enjoy poring over their sister's American Girl Doll catalog and recently told me they wanted the Samantha doll for Christmas.
* 3Po's second favorite color is pink.  He's almost five, and he still snuggles up every single night with a pink flannel blanket.
* One of them told me the other day, "I think I'd like to be a boy-girl.  No, I mean a girl-boy"

The perfect pair of jeans

About a month ago I opened up my closet and took stock of all the jeans I found.  The list was depressing:

• Bootcut Old Navy jeans that I bought even though I knew they didn't fit too well, because well, they were on sale for $10 and I needed jeans so desperately. Alfie hates, hates hates them because I never wear them with a belt so they're always sagging.  The back pocketflaps stick out (because I never iron them) and make my ass look big -- but I won't get rid of them because they're so comfy.
• Straight-cut Lucky jeans -- for men. Alfie bought them a couple of years ago but gave them to me because they were too small and short for him (Can't remember what we were thinking when we bought them) and they were so expensive I couldn't bear to throw them out. I wear them when I feel fat or when I need to putter around the garden in cold weather.
• Flared Guess jeans that are great, but I really need to lose at least 5 pounds to wear them with confidence because they are so low-slung that any extra weight spills over in the infamous muffin-top.

The best and the worst of the Biden/Palin debate

In a economy that doesn't allow splurges on babysitters, restaurants or tickets, this is what our date nights look like:  my husband and I giving the kids an early bedtime and snuggling up in front of the telly to watch the much-awaited vice presidential debate.  The main attraction, of course, was Sarah Palin, target-of-the-month of the blogosphere, pundits and Hollywood celebrities alike, thanks to her interviews with Charlie Gibson and Katie Couric.  She did perform way better than we expected, but when I think back on the best and worst moments of last night's debate, her name figures prominently on my "worst" list:

Worst moments of the debate:

Homework Hell-p!

Two weeks ago, The Pea came home from school with something new -- a homework folder.  Yes, folks, after breezing through kindergarten and first grade with occasional, entertaining projects called  "homework"  (to make the kids feel grown up, I suppose) we've now moved on to the Real Thing.  Homework with a capital H.  Daily reading, logs, journals and worksheets.

It has been three weeks now, and we are still struggling with it.  Case in point:  the night of the Two-Hour Homework.  The Pea was given what I thought would be an easy-peasy assignment:  write a letter to the school custodian, nurse or secretary.  She was quite excited about it and actually wanted to write a letter to all three.  What marvelous enthusiasm, I thought, that's my Type-A girl! With my most encouraging smile and let-me-know-if-you-have-any-questions reassurances,  I left her at the kitchen table with her paper and pencils and crayons.