Bringing Up Bobbin

Waitin' for the parade

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Happy 4th of July!

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I thought I was past this; is this my fate?

Insomnia. Rarely had it pre-pregnancy. Lots of stuff was different then. I exercised for about 2 hours a day every day - got the stress out and made me tired. I ate big lunches and tiny (if at all) dinners. Didn't go to bed completely full.

When I took my time off a couple of years ago the doctor prescribed a sleeping aid. Ambien. It worked GREAT. Probably too well. After weaning myself off it several refills later, I had a short bout of insomnia and then was able to get back to sleep. Slowly though, as months past, I have returned to the full-blown inability to fall asleep again. I long for that sleep aid I gave up. But it pisses me off that I can't get to sleep any other way.

I have some vacation coming up soon; maybe I'll use it to kick start me back into some good habits. Like eating better and exercising daily. I usually attempt this with any vacation with marginal success. Most of the time I end up whittling away my vacation with household chores. Day 1: The 6 piles of laundry I've been letting build up. Day 2: Wash the floors so I don't stick to them; scrape off the 3 inches of gunk that have accumulated since my last vacation and floor washing a year ago. Day 3: clean out the closet. Day 4: my god, it's almost over - better get out and do some kind of exercise. Day 5: sleep in because I haven't crossed that off my vacation list yet and maybe go to the hair salon and get those greys coloured. Then it's Saturday which doesn't change regardless of whether I've been on vacation the previous week or not. And Sunday is spent getting ready to get back into the grind.

I've been having wacky, and very telling dreams lately too. Like last night - I dreamed that Tim had left a surprise in the form of a plane ticket to visit my parents. The note with the ticket said that Tim would meet me there in a few days. I got so excited I jumped in the car right away still wearing my towel from having just showered and my bathrobe to cover the towel. Feet were bare. Got to the airport to discover I actually had 5 or 6 hours to kill before the flight but was glad just to be free so decided to go shopping and have a nice lunch. Looked down and noticed I was actually not dressed and determined I'd better fix that. Found myself in one of those airport souvenir shops that sell over sized sweatshirts and boxers with an emblem of whatever the town you're in is famous for. I picked out some pink and yellow fleece lined with terrycloth. Fashionable. Found some flip flops to match. As I was walking up to the checkout counter I passed through the children's section and that made me realize I didn't have Bobbin with me. I panicked. Was I supposed to take her with me or was Tim going to bring her? What if I was supposed to pick her up at daycare and take her with me? What if I wasn't actually getting a 2-day head start ahead of Tim and Bobbin? And why was I feeling angst about it? Did the fact that I assumed I would be traveling on my own that mean I don't love my daughter enough? I searched my pockets for my cell phone to try and call Tim and clear up my confusion and realized I had left it at home. I glanced at the clock and I had just enough time to drive home, get dressed, pick up Bobbin, and get back to the airport before the plane left. I was running madly through the airport trying to find the entrance to the parking garage when I woke up.

I have about 6 interpretations of this dream, but it all comes back down to me feeling stressed and guilty. The endless cycle - I get stressed; I act stressed; I regret acting stressed because invariably I'm acting stressed with people I love; I feel guilty for succumbing to stressed behaviour and stressing out my loved ones in the process; I feel inadequate for feeling guilty and for not having better management of my stress; I feel stressed about being inadequate. And so on.

It's 1am. I promised Bobbin we'd go to the parade with Miss E in the morning. We're even going to take the bus. Bobbin's never been on a bus so she'll be pretty excited. Tim is working the fireworks show but we'll pop by to see him in the afternoon. We're going to have fun. If I can find a way to get a bit of shut eye so I'm not tired in the morning. Because being tired makes me... stressed.

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At the theatre to see Wall-e

We didn't end up staying long due to two hurdles. The first was eventually overcome; the second was the one that ended up driving us out.

The first issue was Bobbin's aversion to peeing in public restrooms. On the surface, it actually seems kinda normal and sane. Public restrooms can be putrid petri dishes of disease waiting to happen. For the most part, at least for the places we frequent, they are not. But that is not what fuels Bobbin fear. What Bobbin dislikes is the noise. Public toilets are in general noisier than private residential toilets. And there is an increasing trend in public restrooms to install the automagically flushing toilet which is supposed to detect via infrared when you have lifted your tushy from the seat and flush only when the "coast is clear" so to speak, but in reality flushes anytime you move out of the infrared eye's line of sight, regardless of whether you're still sitting on the thing or not. You can imagine that to a preschooler with an already-established fear of public toilet noise, the sudden flushing noise and swirl of water directly beneath your bottom can be pretty unsettling. Emotionally scarring, even. But this evening we came up with a system, which worked mostly because she really needed to pee and I was able to convince her she couldn't hold it long enough to get home. I brokered a deal with her. I first pointed out that the toilets were manual flush. No magic. I sat on it myself and pointed out the little metal handle, Vanna-style. I then proposed the plan: She would go potty in the toilet and then she would put herself back together and go stand waaaaaaay over by the sinks. When she got waaaaaay over by the sinks she was to call back to me "Mommy, I'm waaaaaay over by the sinks. You can flush now". I would wait for this signal and then and only then would I flush the toilet. Then we would wash our hands together and exit the restroom area.

She pondered silently and then nodded agreement, and we executed flawlessly. Mission accomplished! We even high-fived on the way out the door.

The second hurdle however, was not to be overcome and truth be told I was ok with that. Despite the movie's G-rating, there were a few too many explosions in the initial scenes for Bobbin's liking. She didn't like the loud noise, but I actually didn't relish the thought of having to explain the explosions, which were in fact caused by Wall-e's robot love interest pointing and shooting her built-in rocket-gun at anything that moved. So after a couple of these scenes Bobbin asked to go home, I quickly agreed and we left, headed for the bookstore where I let her pick out two books and a $5 pink poodle for her mastery of the public toilets.

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Charles Schultz had it nailed

We were over at the home of some friends a couple of weekends ago for dinner and a playdate with Miss E. Deciding to break a little from the norm and let the girls have a little fun we decided to picnic in the basement and watch movies instead of dining at the table.

At one point during the meal, Bobbin decided she needed to go potty. We went upstairs to use the potty she's more familiar with (Bobbin has this thing about potties. If it's loud or has blue liquid in it she will not use it. She will hold it in until she gets home. and usually by that time she has a tummy ache, and it's just stressful for all involved but that's an entirely different story).

So we're sittin' in the bathroom - Bobbin on the potty and me on the floor in front of her - when we here the sound of muffled voices emanating from the air vent in the wall next to the toilet. Apparently there's a direct line of hearing between the upstairs bathroom and the downstairs rec room via the air vent. A bit of info may come in handy for Miss E's parents when she's a teenager and talking boys and school gossip with her friends downstairs. You had to really listen though, to make out the actual words that were being spoken.

Slightly startled, Bobbin stops mid-pee and says "Mommy? What's that 'Wah wah WAH wawah wah' voice saying?" with the appropriate nasal tone to her "Wah Wah"'s.

And all I could think to reply was "Oh, That's Charlie Brown's mom talking with Debra in the basement".

I'm really confusing the heck out of her with my answers these days. It's going to come back to bite me at some point. I know it will. Much like my dad's joking pronunciation of "minestrone" as "Mine Strown" and "Gazebo" as "Gaze Bow" came back to haunt him the first time my sister tried using those words at school in front of her friends, got laughed at, and she came home embarassed and sobbing.

I'm sorry kiddo; it's genetics. Ain't nothin' I can do about it! :-)

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Assimilated

I refused to do it. Even though it was almost fashionable. Still I resisted. I did not want to become one of them.

But as of July 1st, I could resist no longer. I was forced to surrender. I had to assimilate. I had to get... earbuds.

As of yesterday in Washington State the use of a hands-free device such as a bluetooth headset or wired headset became required for using a cell phone while driving.

I actually think it's a good idea. It probably doesn't really solve the real issue though - which is that people are more dangerous when using cell phones not because they don't have both hands on the wheel, but because they are distracted by the dialing, answering, talking and listening they are doing. If it was simply a matter of not having both hands on the wheel, then the same prohibition should be applied to the consumption of food or beverage while driving, or changing the radio station while driving, or inserting a CD while driving, or flipping off the idiot who just cut in front of you while driving, and to the best of my knowledge it is not even a secondary offense to be doing any of those things and driving at the same time.

At any rate, a hands-free device for cell phone communications while driving is now a requirement here, even though it is a secondary enforcement law. Meaning you only get a ticket for this if you are pulled over for a regular traffic violation. And the violation will not go on your driving record or be reported to insurance.

And so I'm not sure entirely whether it's going to have any significant impact on the problems they are trying to solve with the introduction of this law. I expect people to be just as oblivious to their surroundings while gabbing on a hands-free device as they are when they're talking with a phone held to their ear. They're not going to pay any more attention to the road. They're still going to change lanes without signaling and cut me off, or brake abruptly while I'm behind them, or not brake fast enough when they are behind me.

So yesterday, just to ensure I was in legal compliance on the off chance I had to answer the phone while in the car (there's a whole other story here about me and my answering & lack of answering of my cell phone; I will post it here when emotions around the topic have subsided in this household), I went out and purchased my first blue tooth headset.

So... as far as blue tooth headsets go, it's small, lightweight, comfortable and the receiver and microphone are high quality. It was easy to set up with my iPhone. There's really nothing to complain about.

Except the fact that I look like one of the Borg when I have it on. And that the people that wear one regularly and use it exclusively for all of their voice communications are among the most dorky and annoying on the planet.

You know what I'm talking about. They're the people at work or in the grocery store who are walking towards you with a smile on their face as though they know you, and as they pass you they look you in the eye and open their mouth as if to greet you and as you're getting ready to smile back on the off chance it is actually someone you know but just can't place and you don't want to be rude, they walk right past you saying something like "Oh my GOD that's HILARIOUS! Did she really say that? Holy crap; she's got a lot of nerve" and then you realize that she wasn't smiling at you, and she wasn't talking to you, she was smiling and talking to some equally shallow, gossipy, loser in some completely different location via her humandroid ear piece and now you're standing there with a dorky grin on your face for no reason, and you feel like an idiot.

Or they're the people at the mall walking next to you but alone, carrying on a much too LOUD conversation seemingly with themselves about completely inappropriate topics in way too much detail that makes you blush from head to toe as you pray that 1) no one else thinks they are with you and B) that they will shut up and turn left at the food court intersection as you scurry over to Macy's and try to lose them in the Frango display.

I just don't want to be one of THEM. I think the ear pieces make people look stupid and become rude. Ruder, anyway. Most people in my experience are already rude. (Remind me to post my observations and general philosophy on please & thank you etiquette in America while ordering food or beverage over a counter).

So I have to have this thing but I only have to use it while driving. And so in the car on my dash it sits. I put it on when I am driving and at a time of day when I'm more likely to receive a phone call that I have to answer, and stash it the rest of the time. That is my compromise.

I have been assimilated, but only in part. I retain my oneness, unbeknownst to the powers that be; the enforcers.

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Late to the game but still fired up

Janel sent the Friday Gang a book review for a book by LInda R. Hirshman entitled "Get to Work: And Get a Life, Before It's Too Late"

The review was by Sandra Tsing Loh and I'm not entirely sure what her opinion was of the book or author; She came across to me as a bit annoying at the beginning but when I actually took the (long long long) time to read through to the end of her review I think I liked her wit and sarcasm. Whether or not I read the book that she is apparently publishing and releasing shortly is undecided But I do know that the review made me decide unequivocally that the book she was reviewing was not a book that I was interested in actually reading, and the opinion I was left with was that Linda R. Hirshman's view of the world was more likely to just piss me off than entertain me.

And apparently I'm not alone; I guess I've been living under the proverbial rock when the book came out and sparked apparently much debate and critique in the internet blogosphere. Ah well... yet one more thing I missed while I had my head buried in my ever-growing pile of self-doubt, working-mom guilt, and stinky laundry.

It's clear from the review I read as well as the publisher's remarks that Hirshman thinks very little of women who have chosen to stay home after having a child, vs continuing their careers.

The quote that really annoyed me: "Although child rearing, unlike housework, is important and can be difficult, it does not take well-developed political skills to rule over creatures smaller than you are, weaker than you are, and completely dependent upon you for survival or thriving. Certainly, it's not using your reason to do repetitive, physical tasks, whether it's cleaning or driving the car pool. My correspondent's life does have a certain Tom Sawyerish quality to it, but she has no power in the world. Why would the congressmen she writes to listen to someone whose life so resembles that of a toddler's, Harvard degree or no?"

Power in the world. In my book raising and teaching another human being the qualities that allow them to be kind, caring, empathetic, responsible, giving, independent, confident, questioning, challenging, contributing beings in life is wielding a fair amount of power. As for who the congress men (and women) do and do not listen to and why - our politics is flawed on so many levels at this point that it's meangingless to try and argue that a stay-at-home mother is going to have any less influence than I would as a working mom. I don't have any influence either. Neither do the majority of the "regular people" working or not in this country.

As for the level of skill it takes to "rule over creatures smaller than you are, weaker than you are, and completely dependant upon you for survival or thriving" I think that is a very myopic view of what it takes to raise a child in the world today. It's true that it is not rocket science. And it's true that the problems that are being solved at home are different than the ones that are being solved at work. But it is inappropriate to try and draw conclusions or comparisons about the skill involved in doing one vs the other.

I recently learned through an old friend that a high school classmate of ours has a child that was born with Cerebral Palsy. There was a spot on a local news show about their family that I watched on the internet. The skills that it must take him and his wife on a daily basis, to care for their daughter, to care for the rest of their family, to move themselves and their family forward and give them hope and opportunity and strength and unconditional love and encouragement and support is a skill I will never ever ever claim to exercise in the work that I do in my 45+ hour week high tech management job that provides me with full benefits, a pretty wide scope of responsibility, and a competitive salary. How can you compare the two? Our lives are completely different, filled with different requirements, different skills, different circumstances and in many cases those circumstances aren't choices that a person gets to make for him or herself.

Anyway... I think my friend Debra (who really does need to get a blog at this point; C'mon Debra; I set my sister up. I can set you up too. You know you want it ;-)) summed it up best with her response to the review which was "if the kids aren't raised well, we ALL pay the price" and "Irregardless of whether we are at home or at work, if we are all cranky or sucking the life out of the system or thrashing on others, we are not at our full potential. Tell me how that contributes to having 'a life'?".

I have such smart friends :-)

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Nursery Rhymes Bobbin Style

Reciting nursery rhymes with Bobbin this evening, I recited what I thought was a new one, but she remembered it right away and jumped in:

Me: Little Boy Blue
Bobbin: COME BLOW YOUR HORN!
Me: The Sheep's in the meadow
Bobbin: The COW'S in the CORN!
Me: Where is the little boy who looks after the sheep?
Bobbin: He's under a haystack fast ASLEEP!

[Pause]

Bobbin: Mommy? Why is the little blue guy under the haystack?

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Tossed salads and scrambled deer

It hit 107F on the deck today. We all but melted in the balmy 79 that was the indoor temperature. It was so hot today the mama deer came begging for water.

She showed up this morning as I was out in the yard. 10 feet away from me, with eyes that were demanding apples. In a docile yet wild and skittish kind of way. Like she knew I was good for them, and if she just stood firm and didn't run away, she'd get the prize.

Naturally I didn't disappoint. She followed me to the deck, staying back a closer-than-I-was-comfortable-with 10 feet the entire time, as I went up the hill into the house to get the rest of the apples we had saved for her. I was a little wary; Bobbin was on the deck and I was hoping that Mama Deer hadn't gotten too brave or too hungry since I had last seen her. She wasn't so bold as to make her way onto the deck, but she stood right next to the house at the bottom corner, waiting patiently as Bobbin looked down on her from the deck railing about 8 feet directly above her head pointing and yelling "Hi Mama Deer! Hiiiii-eeeeeee! How are you dis mornin' deer? Are you hungry? YAH?! Hiiiii-eeeeeee! GOOD MORNIN!" I figured if she stayed through the enthusiastic greeting and interrogation she deserved the apples.

I tossed out about a half dozen. She ate them all and didn't stop looking at me or start walking away until I had held out my hands, empty, shaking my head saying "all gone". Like she understood any of that; she knows I'm quick with the apples. If they weren't forthcoming within 3 minutes of silent, doe-eyed pleading then obviously she wasn't going to get anymore from me and she decided on her own to move on. Likely to wait out the day in the relative cool of the forest by the house. A seasonal stream runs through it but with this heat wave, I don't think there's much if anything flowing.

Later this evening she returned. She was breathing really heavy - I could see her ribs and stomach heaving rapidly. And she had her mouth open and tongue out. She was hot and thirsty and looking for more apples.

Problem was I had given her everything this morning. So I ransacked the fridge to see what we might have that would appeal to a deer. Not a whole lot. Some bags of peeled organic baby carrots and lettuce left over from our BBQ friday night. I tossed out the carrots over the balcony railing. She sniffed and turned up her nose and looked me in the eye to let me know this was not what she wanted. I tossed out the lettuce and she seemed quite interested until she got up close and had her mouth open about to it it, and then backed away wildly. I looked in the bag. There was a half onion in there with the lettuce. Otherwise I think she'd have eaten it. I tried some watermelon chunks with the rind still on. She sniffed the air, interested, but couldn't locate anything on the ground worthy of consuming. I had nothing else to try.

She looked so sad and desperate and uncomfortable that I made Tim go outside to give her a drink. She started getting a little skittish and jumped away as he hauled out an old cooler that we had just washed and had left outside, and filled it with water from the hose until it was overflowing. She seemed tempted when it had filled but in the end she just decided to walk away. Maybe she smelled onions in the cooler.

Tim spent the better part of today mowing and cleaning the yard. It looked immaculate. He suffered some minor heat fatigue too as a result of being outside all day in the scalding sun. Now, however, the yard looks like a giant tossed salad; watermelon chunks, lettuce leaves, and orange baby carrots littering the otherwise beautifully manicured lawn.

Shopping list for tomorrow includes a 25lb bag of apples. And I need to become more familiar with deer diet. I do know now that they won't eat anything that remotely smells of onions.

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Smart Daughter

Bobbin loves the Smart car. I think I've mentioned this previously. The convertible top, the fact that she's sitting next to me, the size ("It's MY size, Mommy"), and the 6-CD changer that lets her alternate between Sharon, Lois and Brahm and Laurie Berkner at the touch of a button (my touch; her seat's way too far back to touch the dash with her hands although I've had to tell her that it's off limits anyway since she realized she can reach it with her toes).

And we talk about it on the way to school and work.

Bobbin: Mommy, why is this a Smart Car?
Me: Because it's small and fuel efficient!
Bobbin: Whats fool essence?
Me: Fuel Efficient means it uses less gas.
Bobbin: That's what makes it smart?
Me: That's one of the things!

So it was with great amusement and pride the other day that she came running over to me as she overheard me talking to a friend about our car, and volunteered in her little pipsqueak voice

"We drive a SMART car, you know that? Our car is SMART. Do you know WHY it's SMART? Because it uses LESS GAS!"

and then she skipped away merrily, having done her part for the Smart.

I looked at my friend, smiled, and replied "See, it's true? Even a 3-year-old can tell you this is the right thing to do"

Anyone know if my daughter can start receiving commission on referrals and sales?

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When I close my eyes it is dark

Tim went to Costco today. We go to Costco to buy stuff like toilet paper, paper towels, batteries, and garbage bags. But we also always end up buying stuff like the econosize 100-pen sharpie set, or the 12-pack of 8oz bottles of SPF 50 sunscreen, or random Costco-esque nick-nacks that we normally wouldn't buy but do because they're cheap and they're... stuff.

Today's Costco "special purchase" was a set of outdoor coloured-glass garden globes mounted on wrought iron stakes with a tiny solar panel attached to the side of each one and a small light bulb in the middle of the globe. I actually really like them. They're pretty. I'm a sucker for wrought iron in particular, and just about any kind of garden ornamental statue-y type stuff as long as its not bright pink plastic. I'm in love with Tim's mom's backyard, which is filled with a great and eclectic collection of garden ornaments she's collected over the years. They're tucked away under bushes and behind trees and amongst flowers and it's like going on a treasure hunt when you walk back there. It's absolutely enchanting. They even have a little koi pond and a fountain in the middle with stepping stones all around. Her backyard reminds me of the Storybook Gardens my parents used to take me to in Germany all the time as a little girl. Bobbin thinks it's magical too. One day I aspire to have as creative and fun a garden area as she does.

Anyway - so we got these garden globes and Tim placed them around the garden and when Bobbin and I got home from school we noticed them right away. Bobbin got all excited, and it wasn't until she got up close to one and started fiddling with it that I noticed the solar panel on each one. "What's this?" she asked. I explained that it was a special box that would take the light from the sun during the day and save it up. And when the sun went down and it got dark, it would use the light it had saved to make the glass balls glow so they would light up the garden.

Hey, it's mostly true and sounds so much more interesting and magical to a 3-year-old than a lecture on solar power and eco-friendly energy sources would.

"How it will look in the dark?" Bobbin asked. Her style of questioning these days is to make statements that go up at the end. "Well, the glass balls will glow from the light inside, and we'll see pretty colours in the dark amongst the flowers". "It will get dark soon?" Bobbin asked, "Before I got to bed?" She looked hopeful. I explained that it probably wouldn't be dark enough by then. She shrugged and started playing around with other stuff on the deck.

The globes were not forgotten, however. A few minutes later I turned around to see her walking towards the garden, shuffling slowly, brow furrowed as though she had her eyes squeezed shut or was squinting furiously, hands over her face leaving just enough room between the fingers to peek out, assuming her eyes weren't all the way closed. I didn't need to ask; I knew exactly what she was doing. She figured if she closed her eyes she could make it dark enough that the globes would glow. I smothered a giggle and watched silently as she conducted her little experiment. I'm not sure if she eventually gave up out of concern for her precarious footing as she stepped through the garden with her eyes mostly covered, or if she eventually figured out that the sun doesn't go out just because she has her eyes closed. I have no idea but was nonetheless grateful and humoured by this special little glimpse into the workings of my almost-3-year-old's scientific mind.

We are but a speck floating in front of a giant eyeball. When the eye opens we get day. When it shuts we get night.

So simple, really.

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For my relatives in Newfoundland

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Her kingdom

I'm watching TV with Bobbin this evening before bed. We're staring at The Baby Channel - she still loves it. After 8pm it's filled with images of happy cutsy animals accompanied by soft lullaby music in the background.

As we sit bleary-eyed, two deer come bounding across the screen. Bobbin points and exclaims "Mommy, look at those deer! They're just like mine!"

A few minutes later an owl appears on screen and settles onto a tree branch. Bobbin's response: "Mommy, that's an owl. I have one of those. He lives in my fowest".

It's true. Deer and owls abound on our property with daily sightings (and feedings) of the first, and occasional encounters (close and far) of the second.

Tim and I are merely dwarves to her Snow White.

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I have arrived! And smartly, no less.

I have been inducted. I am One of the few. The proud. The smart.

I was heading towards the freeway; he had just gotten off. We saw each other from a distance - two cars, identical in colour and model. Our roofs were both up; it looked like rain. As he passed me he flashed me a peace sign. I waved excitedly back at him.

A fellow smart car driver on the road. I've heard they are out there but had not seen one. Until today.

A coworker (the one who put me onto the smart car in the first place) had told me that by driving a smart car I was also becoming a member of a growing but still small and close-knit community, and she had informed me there's an unspoken but well known (by smart car drivers) etiquette involved when you see another smart car driver on the road. I think I might have been slightly off-etiquette with my excited spastic wave in response to his cool peace sign, but I'm a newbie. I'm sure I'll be forgiven.

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For a good cause, or for a good image?

I went to the local grocery store the other day and as has become the norm, there was a table set up in front of the entrance with product laid out, and posters advertising some cause or another. The women wearing pink blazers standing behind the table clearly weren't selling girl scout cookies, so I ventured closer to see what they were about.

The cause was "Operation Smile" which I had heard of, and knew to be an organization focused on raising money to help surgically repair facial deformities in children such as cleft lips and palettes. It's a worthwhile cause but I chose not to donate that day.

The actual product that they were selling to raise funds for the charity was Victoria Jackson cosmetics, which they explained through a "generous program and partnership with Victoria Jackson herself", they were able to purchase at a significantly discounted rate. And 5% of the total proceeds of their sales would then go towards Operations Smile.

I'm not a big makeup wearer, but I can always go for a good lipstick and some mascara so it wasn't entirely outside the realm of possibility that I would purchase cosmetics for a good cause. However I questioned the 5% and was told that that most of the money went towards buying the product (which was significantly discounted for them which they took pains to point out; whether or not it was also going to be significantly discounted for me they never bothered to offer) and administrative costs, but that 5% is a good amount to donate towards this charity.

Without even having to know the retail or discounted price of the cosmetics they were peddling I did know this. Why would I be interested in purchasing cosmetics for a good cause when only 5% of the proceeds went towards the cause. When instead I could donate directly to the charity where a significantly greater percentage of my money would go directly towards the cause.

But just because I was curious I decided to do some research. And here's what I found out about Victoria Jackson and her cosmetics, as well as about Operation Smile.

Operation Smile - in my opinion a worthy mission statement, to help children with deformities lead normal lives and promote sustainable healthcare systems for children and their families. Here are their financials for fiscal year ending June 30th 2007

• revenue: $52.6M
• operating expenses: $46.7M
• Net proceeds (by my calculation and I should caveat that I am not an accountant nor do I hold a degree in any sort of business administration but it seems this should basically be revenue - operating expenses): $5.9M

I have no idea how that compares to other charities in terms of operating expenses as a % of revenue. Like I said - not a financial analyst; not an expert in non-profits; not an accountant; not an MBA. So I can't really pass judgement on the efficiency of the operation or net proceeds.

I also looked up Victoria Jackson's cosmetic line and here are a couple of sample prices:

lipstick: retail - $22; wholesale - $15; current sale price - $11
foundation: retail - $28; wholesale - $17
blush: retail - $23; wholesale - $14; current sale price - $12

so retail price in general appears to be a markup of 45% - 65% from wholesale. I don't know what the discounted price the pink blazer ladies paid for their inventory. Maybe it was less than wholesale. I also didn't actually note what price they were selling the cosmetics for. Maybe that also was less than wholesale. I would venture to guess though, that even with the discounted price (which I will presume since it is for a charitable cause would be passed on to the consumer in some fashion) and after the 5% donation to the charity, that Victoria Jackson was still making some sort of profit. There's nothing wrong with that; Victoria Jackson Cosmetics itself is a business, not non-profit. This is just an observation.

I did peruse the Operation Smile "shop to benefit" page. For cosmetics and fragrance purchases, 2% - 5% proceeds donated seems standard. There is a pretty pendant you can purchase for anywhere between $200 - $5,000 and 30% of its proceeds goes towards the charity. And the DVD, a $20 purchase, donates $6 of each purchase to the cause - also 30%.

Anyway, at the end of it all I didn't arrive at any different conclusion than I started with which was

• if you wouldn't normally use it or buy it; save your money and donate it directly to the charity


• if you would normally use it or buy it, find out how much of your purchase would actually go towards the cause before making the purchase

which are the rules I've always applied to charities anyway.

I do wish I knew the discounted price the organization paid for the cosmetics in the first place as well as taken note of the price they were selling because that would have made the math a little more interesting.

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Eye glasses and easter bunnies

Last week - exactly a week ago today - I was talking with my Dad, Bobbin's 'Grandpa Jerry', on the phone and he was telling me about how he had just spent 3 hours stuck in a storm in Port Dover. There's actually quite a bit more to that story, but it's not mine to tell :-) Bobbin was hearing only my side of the conversation but it was full of exclamations and she heard me say exciting words like "lightening" and "storm" and so she asked me what we were talking about. I summarized the story for her something like this:

"Well, Grandpa Jerry had to go to Port Dover. Do you remember Port Dover? It's the place that had the beach we went to, where Grandpa Jerry buried his feet in the sand" She nodded and added some detail to the memory, and then I went on "Well, Grandpa Jerry went there yesterday and a storm came in from the lake and it got really really windy and rainy and he was trapped there for a long time until the storm was over".

So today we're driving to the park this morning to have some fun and exercise, and out of the blue Bobbin asks "Mommy, why Grampa Jerry got stuck in the storm and he was trapped?"

The way she was asking I knew she had some mental picture of Grandpa Jerry, standing on the beach in the rain, his feet and legs encased in sand up to his knees making him literally stuck and trapped in on the beach in the storm as lightening flashed overhead, and thunder rumbled, and waves broke over the rocks, and the rain poured down on Grandpa Jerry's drenched head. Because that's what "stuck" and "trapped" means to Bobbin. It means physically not being capable of moving.

I clarified that what I really meant was that Grandpa was forced to sit in his car in Port Dover until the rain and wind stopped so that he could get home safely. He couldn't drive the car because there was so much wind and rain that he couldn't see. Of course, "couldn't see" to Bobbin means physically not being capable of seeing what is in front of you. And so she asked

"Why Grampa Jerry could not see? Was Grampa Jerry wearing his eye glasses?"

She must think we're all a bunch of idiots sometimes, with the mental images that our words create for her. Like Grandpa Jerry going off to the beach and burying his feet in the sand and then being stuck while it rained on him and then not being able to drive home because he lost his glasses. Geez, Grandpa Jerry, what were you thinking? I mean really?

So I explained that Grandpa Jerry was wearing his glasses (it's interesting to note that she remembers that; she hasn't seen him in over a year) but that even with his glasses, there was so much rain fallng that it made it hard for him to see what was in front of him, like when it's really foggy outside and the fog makes it hard to see what's in front of us (we get a lot of fog in the spring).

That seemed to satisfy her but I'm pretty sure that all it did was add a pair of eye glasses to the mental picture of Grandpa Jerry standing in the sand up to his knees, drenched, and stuck waiting for the storm to blow over. But she had moved on and so did I.

Next up was the subject of Newfoundland. Not sure how we got on this topic, but I was telling her how maybe next summer she and Daddy and I should try and take a trip to Newfoundland. Of course she asked where Newfoundland is, and so I explained that "Newfoundland is the Eastern most province of Canada and.." I was about to go into the historic details of Newfoundland and our family connection to it, but she stopped me and said "And that's where the Eastern bunny likes to go and hide eggs for all the kids in Newfoundland! I want to go to Newfoundland!"

So now I have a mental picture in my head of my Uncle Tom, Uncle Jamie, and Uncle Gil standing at the St. John's airport arrival gate dressed up in giant bunny costumes waiting to greet Bobbin as she comes through the door.

Cause they'd do it, too. Y'all have met them. You know they would ;-)

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Made in America

"Why?" is definitely the question asked most frequently. But in distant second, comes "Who made this?"

From socks and underwear, to telephones and teapots; keyboards, televisions, toilet paper, sink faucets. Shoes, paper, CDs and sun screen. Cameras, lightbulbs and kleenex. Invariably my answer is almost always the same: "that? It was made in a factory".

Bobbin understands what a factory is. She's seen episodes of "How It's Made" on tv. It's like that show was created with her in mind. She's watched how toilet paper is made on her Elmo Potty dvd. A factory is a big building with lots of machines inside that cut and stamp and hammer and screw stuff together and put them in boxes as they move down a big conveyer belt like the one you see at the cash register at the grocery store only bigger.

She also understands that a lot of factories that make stuff are in China. And she understands that China is a big country on the other side of the world and that we share the sun with them and when it's our turn to have sun, it's their turn to go to bed and vice versa. If she has any mental picture at all of China at this point, it's dark when we're awake and has a lot of really big buildings and a whole lotta airplanes flying stuff from the really big buildings to stores all over the world.

Apparently she's started to make some interesting connections in her smart little brain, because while we were on our way to school having one of our usual "how is it made" conversations - this one about our smart car - she paused and looked down at her lap for a moment and then up and me and asked "Mommy, who made my body?"

So I explained that her body, and all people's bodies, are not made in factories. Her body grew from a little tiny speck ("Like Horton's speck?" was the question that followed that) and was "made by me and Daddy. We decided we wanted to have a baby, and then you started growing in Mommy's tummy. At first you were 'this big'", and I held my index finger and thumb together to illustrate, "and then you grew bigger and bigger and bigger inside my tummy because my body was helping yours to grow. And then one day you were big enough to come out of my tummy and we went to the hospital and you were born!"

I think she was just happy to hear she wasn't assembled on a conveyer belt somewhere in China. I had clearly skipped a few details, but the answer seemed to suffice, and then we went on to talk about how Ginger's body was made, and Spicey's, and Tommy's, and Grandma's and Grandpa's and Daddy's. All remarkably similar processes.

Then it was back to stuff that required machines to build them, because that is infinitely more interesting. Thank goodness.

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What does THIS say about me?

Every morning after dropping Bobbin off at daycare, on my way to work in the morning, I stop at the local Starbucks and get a tall, non-fat, no-whip peppermint hot chocolate. I've been doing it for a couple of years. Everyone in the shop knows me and they usually have my drink ready for me by the time I get to the cash register to pay. I don't even have to tell the cashier - he or she just knows what to ring up.

The only time that this routine falters is when there's a new barista at Starbucks. Whenever they train someone new, invariably for 2 weeks I can expect to get the hot chocolate without the peppermint; or get a peppermint mocha instead of a peppermint hot chocolate (that's actually the most common mistake; I can live with hot chocolate without peppermint although since I paid 30 cents for it I usually think I'm entitled to ask for them to make it right) or it's made with whole milk instead of non-fat, or it's oozing whip cream through the drink hole. Or they charge me too much or too little (yes, I'm *that* honest) because they ring in the wrong size or wrong syrup or wrong beverage.

Eventually though, after a couple of weeks of totally screwing it up, they catch on and it becomes smooth sailing again until the next new barista-in-training gets to serve me.

I think for the most part I handle the mistakes in stride. It's not life or death. It's not going to ruin my day. It's not worth me ruining their day. Sometimes though if it happens 4 or 5 days in a row with the same person each day, I am less than enthusiastic and may not smile when I say "thank you" after they remake my drink for the third time on that last day.

So I walked into my Starbucks friday morning, surveyed the all-vetran barista crew behind the counter, and stood in line waiting confidently waiting for my turn. When they finally got to me, the woman on the counter looked up and smiled and said "Tall, non-fat, no-whip peppermint hot chocolate?" and I smiled and said "Yes, thank you". And then she froze, and an a split second I could see her recall a memory of something and her face clouded, and then she burst into fits of giggles and said

"Oh my god, I'm sorry. And I probably shouldn't tell you, but I had a dream about you last night! The peppermint hot chocolate. Oh yeah... it was a 'work-mare' for sure!"

And then she flitted away to mark my beverage choices on a paper cup with her sharpie.

And I was left wondering just what impression I leave any number of strangers with as I pass through their lives buying groceries, pushing elevator buttons, pumping gas, getting lunch.

I can say with all honesty I've never had a dream that I remembered about my Starbucks barista. No matter how badly they screwed up my order that day.

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Two things you shouldn't do in a Smart car

1) Pick your nose
2) Park too close to the curb end of a parking space

I don't actually go around picking my nose in my car. But it occurred to me today, after the second person in less than 5 minutes hung their head out the window of their SUV and gave me a thumbs up as they passed me in mine, that I'm being watched.

A guy at PCC and his wife actually got OUT of their own car and snapped a photo on his camera phone of me and Bobbin getting out of the smart car. I know from the angle at which he was standing that Bobbin and I are in the picture.

Complete strangers stalk me from the parking lot into the grocery store or coffee shop and approach me thinking that they've maintained their stealthy cover by walking down a separate aisle, asking me how I like my car, where did I get it and where is it made. And "Is it electric?" which is the by far number one question I get about the car.

People standing at bus stops do double-takes as I drive by. People on the other side of the street stop, point, and shout to their friends.

And the car is covered in hand prints that I know are not my own or Bobbin's because they're on places I don't usually touch - the front, the top sides, the little rear window.

And so, I realized, that stuff that would have gone unnoticed before while I drove my audi is going to be front page news when I drive the Smart Car.

As for the parking tip. Twice now I've come out of a store into the parking lot to see someone turning into my space, slam on the brakes just before the rear end me, and back out and drive off. It's true that if you're not paying attention, like most people these days - talking on their cell phones, sipping their starbucks, reaching back to swat at their kids' legs - you might not realize that my car is in the space until it's too late. So I've taken to parking my car a little closer to the outside end of a parking space just to be on the safe side.

Even with these two minor learnings, I'm still loving the car! It can't take hills like the Audi can, but it's got its own pep and now that I know just how gradual I need to apply the accelerator (the claim is "0 to 60 in 12 seconds" but it's a little longer than that :-)) I'm not jerking forward with each automatic shift.

Into the second week, and it's still a great car! Just not quite as shiny where people have been putting their dirty paws all over it to check it out.

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Its a sunny day in our smart car

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