Christmas Link

I keep trying to come up with something to say, but I just don't have any words. It's right before Christmas and I'm filled with holiday cheer. But I'm also filled with holiday running around, so I'll just direct all eyes over to Bad Mommy Moments. She's reposted a beautiful and moving Christmas piece that brings tears every time I read it. It's worth revisiting. Enjoy!

Random

• Had parent observation day at The Babydoll's dance class and confirmed that, among other things, I will never be a dance instructor. Ten noisy, noisy pairs of tiny tap shoes, ten tiny jumping beans disguised as little girls, and ten pairs of tiny fingers on the floor ready to be stepped on with aforementioned tap shoes--I barely made it through an hour of sitting there and watching my own child.
• Saw The Princess and the Frog with The Babydoll and her friend. Friend repeatedly asked, "Where's the princess? I want to see the princess!" I actually thought this was a decent princess movie since I try to avoid the whole princess thing in general. Okay, we did wear a tiara and take pictures with the poster, but that was just so she wouldn't be left out if the other girls at the theater wore theirs. Anyway, Tiana is bold and adventurous, caring and smart. She wasn't thinking about any stinking ole prince because she had her own dreams; plus, she and the prince go through some things together and develop a relationship instead of the "he looks at her beauty and falls in love" plot. Anika Noni Rose commented about the film and its merits, considering the history of black people in animation, which I think helps to smooth out some of the problematic elements. I wonder if I could hurry up and write a paper before everyone else does.
• The Babydoll and Baby Boy both seemed to like the movie. They were literally on the edge of their seats for most of the movie. That pleases me.
• What the heck is happening to my break?! Who are these annoying students who keep trying to pull me back in, mob-like, to campus matters? Leave me alone! Do you know that I have an entire class to plan and papers to write that have barely been conceived? Do you know that Christmas is a week away? Do you know that I have more than half of my list to buy? Do you know that everyone's getting a gift card because I hate to shop?
  

I Need a Break

Actual "sentence" found in a student's final paper:

The differences are similarities are among equal against each other.

No, I didn't copy it wrong and it will make even less sense the second time you read it.

On one episode of Girlfriends, one of the characters, Maya, is sharing her potential book proposal with another character, William, and he tells her something like, "I recognize the words you're saying as English, but I have no idea what their relationship is to one another." I'm so feeling William right now.

Thankful Thursday

Today I am grateful for abundance.

We've seen the pediatrician twice in as many weeks and took note of a "coats for kids" box that sat, empty, in the corner. After the second visit, I decided to get serious about the value lessons I want to permeate my children's lives. I went home and pulled out all of the coats that were too small for them. I realized that those coats represent just how much we have, whether we deserve it or not. Some of them were purchased by eager family members, but we also received a huge bag of coats from a former co-worker of Hubby's; from the looks of it, they used to live in Antarctica. There were light jackets, windbreakers, heavy lined coats, super-duper coats with hoods--a coat for every level and type of cold or wind you can think of, some in duplicate sizes. All in perfectly good condition. And we got them for free.

When we saw the box, I explained to the children, The Babydoll especially since she's older, that some children don't have everything they need and that God wants us to share. That it's good to give gifts, particularly at Christmas just like the Wise Men in the Christmas book we read. (Later we were talking about the Baby Jesus and she asked how old he was when he's all grown up and in the sun--that seems to be the way she's explained heaven to herself--I didn't know how to enumerate it for someone who can only count to 100) Anyway, they seemed to like the idea of helping, and we prayed over the coats to ask blessings for the children who would receive them. It was good stuff. They have probably already forgotten the whole situation, but it was good stuff for me.

Anyway, I'm thankful today for having way more than I need and for being able to care for my children, and for the opportunity (and the inclination) to help my children be more like the people they are created to be.

AND I'm so, so, so, so, so, so grateful for more good news that The Crisis is moving in the right direction.

Sounds of the Season

The Diva and I might have been the only ones reading this blog last Christmas season, so I'll give a quick recap of the relevant story:

My family and I try to attend a Christmas carol concert at a nearby college every year. It's fabulous. The first year we took The Babydoll, she loved, loved, loved it, even though she was only about 18 months old. Last year, however, was a disaster. And when we tried to go again a different night--also a disaster.

This year we did at least make it in the door and to our seats. Baby Boy enjoyed the music, but fell asleep. The Babydoll must have forgotten to take her medication, though, because she couldn't close her mouth if her depended on it. She asked why they were walking down the aisle, who the man was in the booth, why the lady wouldn't play the harp right now. Just on and on and on. Loudly. She was excited, so I was sad when Hubby took her out, but there was really no other choice.

The other difference this year is that I had low expectations. I brought The Babydoll back in for the most exciting, hand-clapping song and then we left early. It was fine with me that she played in the cafe across the street for half the concert. We'll go again next year. Oh well.

We ended the night, as is our tradition, with a trip to Krispy Kreme. And to all a good night. :)

Thankful Thursday

Four words:

Last. Day. Of. Class. :)

A Day at the Library with Daddy

So, my husband has decided to take the children to the library once a week for an educational daddy activity. They went yesterday and, for some reason, there was a display about abolition and the women's suffrage movement. (This isn't women's history month or black history month, so I'm a little lost about that--anybody know?) My daughter wanted to get the books from the display to read. There was one about Harriet Tubman and one about Elizabeth Cady Stanton. They start to read the book and on one page there is picture of a man grabbing a black woman and a white woman by the arms and he's holding keys. The Babydoll asks why the man is holding the women and why he's holding keys. Hubby tells her that a long time ago women weren't allowed to hold keys, so they were in trouble because they tried to get the keys and now he was taking them away.

First of all, I'm going to have to go to the library to figure out what this display is all about. Secondly, I'm also going to have to get a hold of this book to find out what in the world is going on in this picture. He never sufficiently explained just what the deal is with these keys. His explanation to The Babydoll made very little sense to me. He didn't even know who Stanton was before this book (I'm loathe to admit that, but he's a math man and a little bit clueless about anything humanities related). There is a sort of accidental metaphor in there, but I'm not sure either of them is aware of it.

Anyway, the point of the story is that The Babydoll had this horrified look on her face for the rest of the book. On each page, she kept asking if the man would let them hold the keys now. It's not fair, she said.

I felt so sad for her and this moment when she had to connect herself with injustice. I know that she's four years old and can't possibly fully contextualize either slavery (which Hubby skirted past because he really didn't have a way to explain that) or sexism, but she knew that something was wrong. The horror on her face was merited. And I know that the depth of that horror will grow as she grasps just what all that this unfairness means. But I hope that she never loses that sense of horror; it will help her save herself from, as Audre Lorde wrote, being crunched by other people's fantasies of her.

I also hope that she doesn't develop some irrational fear of keys.