The past few weeks Geno and I have been scouting out daycare/"school" options for Mateo to start in September. I knew it would be expensive, but I had no idea that even our cheapest option would cost the same as college. (Funny that you pay the same amount for an educational experience that helps form brain connections as one that generally tends to destroy them, but I digress...)
We have been ridiculously lucky to have Geno's mother take care of Mateo this year, and I have always been appreciative, but never more so than after our first visit to a daycare. It was middle-of-the-road in terms of expense, but had me in tears by the time we reached the parking lot. For many reasons, including seeing a baby left alone in a swing in a corner, it was clearly not the place for us.
Thankfully, however, we finally did find a place that we can envision Mateo spending his days. It has beautiful natural light, a teacher who speaks only in Spanish and a teacher who speaks only in English, and a relatively diverse group of kiddos. Oh, and a pricetag that is double what I paid in tuition per year in undergrad, but yet remains the average price of our world of options, so it will have to work.
Going through this process, I just can't help but wonder how people afford to have more than one kid in daycare. I know that many families make the choice to have one parent stay home, but for many of us, that's just not an option at this point in our lives. (Damn you, Sallie Mae!) Obviously employers can help by subsidizing childcare costs and allowing for pre-tax savings accounts, but even then, the price is still staggering when you think of paying for more than one kid. (In our neck of the woods, that would mean approximately $20 - 25,000 per year.)
Geno and I were brainstorming ideas on how we could ever afford something like that, and besides winning the lottery and Publisher's Clearing House, our other options seem equally unlikely. Things we've hypothetically said no to include: me practicing corporate law; Mateo becoming a child moviestar and/or model and/or dancer (triple threat, you know); moving into a tent and Geno becoming a moviestar and/or model and/or professional beatboxer.
Although the beatboxing thing could maybe work... I leave you with the sounds of our daycare funding scheme. (I can't get enough of this video.)
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Turkey Stuffed with Chocolate Cake
My birthday always falls at least within a week of Thanksgiving, and once every 7 or so years, the two days coincide. (Other birthday facts include it being the date JFK was shot, and on a happier note, a shared day of celebration with my dear friend, Beth.) When I was a kid, my mother always threatened/promised to stuff the turkey with chocolate cake instead of traditional stuffing. Sweet and savory go together, no? This year my birthday is a few days removed from the day of thanks, but the older I get, the more I find the two celebrations to feel the same; a time to reflect on all the blessings in my life.
It could go without saying - but shouldn't -that I am beyond grateful for my husband, son and dogs, my parents and sister, my in-laws, sisters and brothers in-law, nephews and niece, and friends both near and far. They are the chocolate cake to my turkey, and always make my life sweeter.
And because a picture usually is worth 1,000 words, I offer this reflection on the year:
November:
December:
January:
February:
March:
April:
May:
June:
July:
August:
September:
October:
November:
Now on to 34!
It could go without saying - but shouldn't -that I am beyond grateful for my husband, son and dogs, my parents and sister, my in-laws, sisters and brothers in-law, nephews and niece, and friends both near and far. They are the chocolate cake to my turkey, and always make my life sweeter.
And because a picture usually is worth 1,000 words, I offer this reflection on the year:
November:
December:
January:
February:
March:
April:
May:
June:
July:
August:
September:
October:
November:
Now on to 34!
Sunday, November 14, 2010
All Things Bright and Beautiful
I have an understatement I'd like to share with you: organized religion is complicated. On this bright and beautiful Sunday morning, I've been thinking a lot about the fact that we don't go to church anymore. It's a particularly striking fact when I give you some personal statistics that belong to Mateo:
It's frustrating to be the cliche, young(ish) adult who leaves the church, but then comes back when the kids show up -which is exactly who we're on the way to becoming. We really want Mateo to have a church home the way that we did growing up, but we also feel pretty strongly that we need to find the right place. I know that even without an organized group of people to worship with, we can still teach him about God, compassion, social justice and songs involving animals going in by twosies-twosies... But do we want to? One of the reasons I've always loved church is because of the community of people who worship, grow, laugh, fight and make-up together. I want Mateo to a part of that, and honestly, I want Geno and myself to be a part of that again, too. But no matter how much we want it, the theology and commitments of the place have to be the right fit.
And so I wonder: Are we being too picky? Why can't we be Unitarians? (We've tried that unsuccessfully a few times.) Would it be possible to start our own church? (You know, in all our free time.) Can Terry Yasuko Ogawa please get ordained soon and start a church for us?
I know that for us, there's no easy solution to this issue, and it may take quite some time before we transition again from the church of the Sunday New York Times to an actual Sunday morning church service. So until that day, I'm making sure that Mateo gets his weekly dose of hymns, because I do want him to know that all things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small, all things bright and beautiful, the Lord God made them all.
- His paternal great-grandmother was an ordained American Baptist minister
- Both of his grandfathers are ordained United Church of Christ (UCC) ministers
- His mother went to divinity school
- His father went to seminary
- His parents actually met and fell in love through being involved in the UCC
It's frustrating to be the cliche, young(ish) adult who leaves the church, but then comes back when the kids show up -which is exactly who we're on the way to becoming. We really want Mateo to have a church home the way that we did growing up, but we also feel pretty strongly that we need to find the right place. I know that even without an organized group of people to worship with, we can still teach him about God, compassion, social justice and songs involving animals going in by twosies-twosies... But do we want to? One of the reasons I've always loved church is because of the community of people who worship, grow, laugh, fight and make-up together. I want Mateo to a part of that, and honestly, I want Geno and myself to be a part of that again, too. But no matter how much we want it, the theology and commitments of the place have to be the right fit.
And so I wonder: Are we being too picky? Why can't we be Unitarians? (We've tried that unsuccessfully a few times.) Would it be possible to start our own church? (You know, in all our free time.) Can Terry Yasuko Ogawa please get ordained soon and start a church for us?
I know that for us, there's no easy solution to this issue, and it may take quite some time before we transition again from the church of the Sunday New York Times to an actual Sunday morning church service. So until that day, I'm making sure that Mateo gets his weekly dose of hymns, because I do want him to know that all things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small, all things bright and beautiful, the Lord God made them all.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Free to be You and Me
Yesterday morning as I was driving Mateo to my mother-in-law's house (she watches him during the day while I'm at work), my CD player switched slots and suddenly the car was filled with the sounds of the 1970's... Free to be You and Me was a staple in my house growing up, and to this day, I can sing every single word of every single song Marlo Thomas and pals like Rosey Grier drove into my impressionable, young brain. (It's alright to cry, anyone??) When I found out I was pregnant, my mom bought me a CD version of the album, and I love that Mateo is going to get to hear the same songs that I did as a child; songs that affirm that we are free to be ourselves, and that gender roles do not have to be determinative of our interests and passions.
In an interesting twist of fate, after having taken a trip down nostalgia lane, yesterday afternoon I stumbled upon Erica Jong's essay, "Mother Madness," from Saturday's Wall Street Journal. (To read the article you can click here. In a nutshell, Jong is a feminist writer who gained infamy in the 1970's and 80's for writing and speaking out on what can roughly be called women's lib issues.) I first read Jong's article while at work and taking a short break out of an otherwise crazy-busy day to pump - something I've been doing since returning to work in late May so that I can continue to breastfeed Mateo. Once I finished reading the article, (and pumping), I couldn't post the article to my Facebook page fast enough. Jong hasn't stopped being a provacateur, and as I imagined, many of my friends have a lot to say about Jong's thesis.
Just in case you didn't take the time to read the article yet, Jong makes a lot of points, but overall seems to be saying that motherhood has been fetishized, and the theory/practice of attachment parenting in particular, is oppressing women. I can't resist sharing this particular quote: "Attachment parenting, especially when combined with environmental correctness, has encouraged female victimization. Women feel not only that they must be ever-present for their children but also that they must breast-feed, make their own baby food and eschew disposable diapers. It's a prison for mothers, and it represents as much of a backlash against women's freedom as the right-to-life movement."
There are a number of other points that Jong makes along the way, and the first three (ish) times I read the essay, I was tempted to create my own response, point for point. (And believe you me, the academic in me is crying out to talk about privilege, the personal as political and about 18 other critical idenity lenses.) There's a lot that she says I agree with and a lot I disagree with. Yes, it's a crying shame that the media perpetuates the celebu-mom, who lost all her baby weight immediately and does it all, seemingly without help from anyone else. And yes, for a single mother who is the sole breadwinner, physically being with your child 24 hours a day is not realistic. But no, I do not think that raising children, even in a recession, means that mothers do not have the time to "question and change the world." And I definitely don't think that my choice to breastfeed, make my own baby food and pop Mateo into an Ergo once in awhile is diminishing my political awareness.
The more I've thought about what Jongs says though, the more I've realized that underneath the point-by-point analysis I've been chomping at the bit to perform runs the current of judgment. Ultimately, I think the reason that Jong's essay hit such a nerve with me, and with so many women, is because being a mother means exposure to being judged in a way you never quite experience pre-kids. It's pretty obvious that Jong herself is still grappling with feeling judged as a mother, and I know that it's something I struggle with. And why is this? I think it's because we love our children so much, and pour so much of ourselves into bringing them into this world and then keeping them here that we can't help but feel like we should be doing this and shouldn't be doing that. Whatever this and that are.
To come full circle, I do agree with Jong that we should all be free to be the mother we are- but I hope that in doing so, we avoid the trap of intolerance that she falls into, and instead practice compassion towards ourselves and others. That's what I'm going to do, just as soon as I finish pureeing some yams.
In an interesting twist of fate, after having taken a trip down nostalgia lane, yesterday afternoon I stumbled upon Erica Jong's essay, "Mother Madness," from Saturday's Wall Street Journal. (To read the article you can click here. In a nutshell, Jong is a feminist writer who gained infamy in the 1970's and 80's for writing and speaking out on what can roughly be called women's lib issues.) I first read Jong's article while at work and taking a short break out of an otherwise crazy-busy day to pump - something I've been doing since returning to work in late May so that I can continue to breastfeed Mateo. Once I finished reading the article, (and pumping), I couldn't post the article to my Facebook page fast enough. Jong hasn't stopped being a provacateur, and as I imagined, many of my friends have a lot to say about Jong's thesis.
Just in case you didn't take the time to read the article yet, Jong makes a lot of points, but overall seems to be saying that motherhood has been fetishized, and the theory/practice of attachment parenting in particular, is oppressing women. I can't resist sharing this particular quote: "Attachment parenting, especially when combined with environmental correctness, has encouraged female victimization. Women feel not only that they must be ever-present for their children but also that they must breast-feed, make their own baby food and eschew disposable diapers. It's a prison for mothers, and it represents as much of a backlash against women's freedom as the right-to-life movement."
There are a number of other points that Jong makes along the way, and the first three (ish) times I read the essay, I was tempted to create my own response, point for point. (And believe you me, the academic in me is crying out to talk about privilege, the personal as political and about 18 other critical idenity lenses.) There's a lot that she says I agree with and a lot I disagree with. Yes, it's a crying shame that the media perpetuates the celebu-mom, who lost all her baby weight immediately and does it all, seemingly without help from anyone else. And yes, for a single mother who is the sole breadwinner, physically being with your child 24 hours a day is not realistic. But no, I do not think that raising children, even in a recession, means that mothers do not have the time to "question and change the world." And I definitely don't think that my choice to breastfeed, make my own baby food and pop Mateo into an Ergo once in awhile is diminishing my political awareness.
The more I've thought about what Jongs says though, the more I've realized that underneath the point-by-point analysis I've been chomping at the bit to perform runs the current of judgment. Ultimately, I think the reason that Jong's essay hit such a nerve with me, and with so many women, is because being a mother means exposure to being judged in a way you never quite experience pre-kids. It's pretty obvious that Jong herself is still grappling with feeling judged as a mother, and I know that it's something I struggle with. And why is this? I think it's because we love our children so much, and pour so much of ourselves into bringing them into this world and then keeping them here that we can't help but feel like we should be doing this and shouldn't be doing that. Whatever this and that are.
To come full circle, I do agree with Jong that we should all be free to be the mother we are- but I hope that in doing so, we avoid the trap of intolerance that she falls into, and instead practice compassion towards ourselves and others. That's what I'm going to do, just as soon as I finish pureeing some yams.
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