Monday Laugh

Picture taken by J at the Farmer's Market this weekend.

When You're Bored, Part One

Anson has recently developed a few games that are a surefire way to combat boredom! Since he's a generous little guy, he has decided to share these games... because we all know how endlessly boring weekends can be.


Game #1: "Thermometer"
Anson had one of his random high fevers again this week (no other symptoms besides fever), and so had to have his temperature taken frequently. By the end of the week, thanks mostly to the magic of Daddy, Anson was actually looking forward to having his temperature taken... and the game of "Thermometer" was created!

This game involves finding your thermometer* (which can be a game in of itself), and pulling it out of the protective plastic sleeve. You turn the thermometer on, announcing your actions by saying "On!" Once you're satisfied that the thermometer is indeed on, you raise your arm, dramatically thrust the thermometer into your armpit, and then lower the arm.

Anson insists on holding the thermometer tightly, as, should it slip out of the armpit, the world may end. If the thermometer does indeed slip out of the armpit, he announces this calamity with a horridly high pitched whiny squeal. Producing this squeal may be one of the most difficult part of this game for those participants above the age of 5.

When you are satisfied that the thermometer is secure, you need to explain the last important rule of the game: "Wait, Beeps!" At this point, you do not move a muscle, and stoicly wait for the thermometer to finish taking the temperature, which is announced by a beeping sound. After hearing the beeps, whip the thermometer out of your armpit with a flourish, and carefully examine the display to see if you have a "Fever". If your parents are around, you should show the display of the thermometer to them: "See"

Repeat. As often as you'd like.


*Should your thermometer not be available (perhaps because your parents have hidden it), do not fear. This game is just as much fun using a small cylindrical block. In fact, using the block has the advantage of turning into "medicine" if the thermometer does say that you have a fever.



Anson apologizies for the poor quality of this video, as well as the sorry state of his hair. He tried to fire his cameralady and hair stylist, but they distracted him with Happy Cookies.

THIS Friday!

THIS Friday, as in the Friday that is three days away (or less, depending upon when you read this), there is an Event. An Event that could also be called a Class, a Date, an Experience, a Delight. This Event is THE place to be on Friday! This is one of those rare times when the MamaDoo can show that she is more hip than The City Pages, as surprisingly there was no mention of the Event amongst the Pages.

THIS Friday, June 26th, is your opportunity to become a student of the sensational and talented Virginia Corbett! Virginia has taken time out of her busy schedule to guide couples who are looking for ways to connect mentally and physically through dance. Not only is Virginia herself a delight, but she is a highly trained instructor and performer. This is not your Community Ed ballroom dance class - this is a rare opportunity, and space is limited. Now is not the time to procrastinate! You can register for the class through the darling Blooma studio in Edina: 952 848 1111


THIS Friday, June 26th, be with Virginia Corbett from 7 - 8:30. You'll live in the moment, revel in the company of your partner, enjoy some wine, learn some fancy footwork, and thoroughly enjoy yourself!

Happy Daddy's Day!

Da-Doo has worked very hard to get his Mama to write this post for him. He knows that his limit of 2-3 word sentences prohibits him from effectively conveying the great love and gratitude he has for his Daddy. When his Mama reminded him that Blog Posts don't write themselves, and that she is quite busy lately with different projects, Da-Doo promised to help out more around the house, therefore giving Mama the time needed to help him write this post. He furiously pulled weeds, moved mulch around the yard, picked strawberries, swept the kitchen floor, and dusted. So, here we are!



Anson: "Da-dee. Kiss Da-dee!"
Translation: I love my Daddy. My Daddy loves me. We give each other kisses. Sometimes, Daddy makes me kiss Mama, and I pretend not to like it, but I really do.



Anson: "Da-dee. Cra-zy Da-dee. Help!"
Translation: I have the BEST Daddy ever! He plays games with me, I get to tackle him, we build forts, and I like head-butting his tummy. We have the best times together. He helps me have so much fun!


Anson: "Ah-woof!"
Translation: Oops, I just got distracted by the neighbor walking his dog down the sidewalk. I like dogs.

Anson: "Eat! Da-juice! Ha-pee Coo-kee!"
Translation: I like it when Daddy makes me food. We have good things like juice, hot dogs, Happy Cookies, and he doesn't make me eat kale or veggies for breakfast.

Anson: "Bye, Da-Dee!"
Translation: I am okay with saying goodbye to you in the morning and when you go off without me. Sometimes I get sad, because it is more fun to have you stay and play with me, but I know that you will come back, and THEN we will have fun!

Anson: "LOVE DA-DEE!"
Translation: None needed.

A Logical Progression

Time of Day: Early morning, getting ready for daycare/work.
Scene: Daddy and Anson in bedroom getting dressed.
From the bathroom, the sound of a hairdryer enters the bedroom.

Anson: "Hair!"

Anson: "Cra-zy hair!"

Daddy: laughs

Anson: "Cra-zy Da-dee!"

Anson: "Cra-zy Mama! Hair!"
walks into the bathroom, and proclaims
"Cra-zy Mama! Cra-zy Mama!"

Mama: "Huh?"

Is It Called Advice If It Is A Blog Post?

When I was pregnant, I experienced the same thing that every other pregnant woman in the world experiences: Unsolicited Advice. There is something about the rounded belly that makes complete strangers feel it is okay to tell you exactly what you are doing wrong, or what you need to do to prevent birth defects, or horror birthing stories (which really should be made ILLEGAL to tell a pregnant woman!), or horror stories about how they never slept after the baby was born, etc etc.

I survived the unsolicited advice, and promised myself that I would NEVER give another pregnant lady advice that she hasn't asked for. I, unfortunately, have broken this promise -- so sorry! -- but with that broken promise came a fierce determination to not break it again.

Right now, though, I have a lot of pregnant friends. A LOT of pregnant friends (call-out to all of you, you Hot Mamas!). They're all due within a two month window.

And I'm having a really hard time keeping my mouth shut. A REALLY hard time. So, in order to purge this need to give out advice, I'm going to do it all now. Because, it isn't Unsolicited Advice if it is just another blog post, right? It's not like I'm speaking directly to one specific friend or stranger...

1. Prenatal yoga is empowering, rocks, and is oh-so amazing for you! I started it when I was 18-20 weeks along, and wished I started it sooner. It was the first time I had ever done yoga, and I totally sucked. But it was okay.
Women who were so much further along than I were just amazing. It was so empowering to see these woman with huge bellies gracefully moving through positions, balancing so easily, and having so much strength. It really showed me that pregnancy is not an illness.
Pre-natal yoga also teaches about trusting your own body, and listening to your intuition. It helped alleviate a lot of the fear of labor (fear causes adrenaline, which causes tension and the fight-or-flight response, which makes contractions feel worse!) It helped develop muscles that made labor easier. It showed me how to relax during contractions. Each yoga class felt so good, too. It was a wonderful workout that somehow left me feeling like I just had a massage.
I heart my teacher, Sarah Longacre, and her Blooma studio! (www.blooma.com) I still take classes at this wonderful studio (though no longer with Sarah, as she just teaches the pre-natal classes).
Child's Pose & Cat Pose did wonderful things for my back. Still do. I couldn't find good pictures on the internet, but if you would like me to show you these simple stretches, I am so happy to do so (then it's not UNsolicited advice!)

2. Treat yourself to a massage, even if you're not a massage person. Wow. Same thing with baths.

3. Hanes makes fabulous camis to wear under things. I bought myself white, nude, and black ones, in a size a couple of sizes larger than I would typically wear. Because, really, just because you're pregnant doesn't mean you want to display your cleavage. And every maternity shirt has a low neckline!

4. Paint your toes while you can still see them. If you're worried about the fumes, do it outdoors, or buy some of the special Nailpolish for Pregnant Ladies.

5. When in labor, put off going to the hospital as long as you can. You'll be more comfortable, more relaxed, and you'll be able to hang onto your dignity longer. They also won't let you eat or drink at the hospital, and you need sustenance! GU Energy Gels and Clif or Luna Gel Blocks are great at giving you energy when you don't feel like eating.

6. Bring your own clothes to the hospital to wear while "lounging" about. I bought a special outfit just for that purpose. They tell you that they have "nursing nightgowns". They don't tell you how much they suck, and how embarrassed you are to have other people see you in them.

7. Birth plans are often forgotten in the spur of the moment, but are still a good idea. They make the idea of "birth" more real.

8. Protein, protein, protein! Good excuse to buy Luna bars :)

9. Go for dates with your partner as much as you can. Things do change once the baby is born, and this is a special time you'll cherish later on.

10. Ina Mae Gaskin's "Ina May's Guide to Childbirth". Graphic. Shocking. But really eye-opening. Orgasmic birth does exist...

And there you have it. I could have continued on past these 10 points, but that may have labeled me as one of those Psycho Advice-Giving Ladies, and I would like to pretend that I'm not actually giving out advice here.

Making Puddles...

The Nature Valley Grand Prix bike race was in town this week, and we headed into downtown St. Paul to check out the criterium. Finding parking was a bit of a problem, as all of our usual parking spots were along the criterium course, but we were successful. There is a beautiful park in the new apartment/condo development in the northern part of downtown. We had a hard time pulling Anson away from the water fountains, but I think, had he the language skills, he would have told us "Thank you!" because the criterium was even more exciting than water squirting into a pool.

After watching the exciting women's race (and realizing our modest little NAUCC criterium is going to be NOTHING like the real thing, oh well), we headed off to do a little riding of our own.

The excessive amount of junk food Mama has been eating lately made this ride necessary, even though it was starting to get past Anson's bedtime. I wanted to try out a possible 10k route for NAUCC, but we weren't sure how long the Doo would make it in the Burley trailer. So, I was dropped off with my Coker at the start of the route, and then the boys drove off to the end where they started riding towards me.

Thanks to some shoes with some thicker soles, my new Coker finally isn't too tall for me, and I was able to ride with some speed. I made it nearly 5 miles before I met my boys on the trail. Just prior to that, I had some issues with a seriously stinky river (thankfully no body bags this time!), and have renewed my promise to NEVER Coker past a group of apartment buildings on a nice summer's evening.

Anson was pretty excited to see his Mama appear on the trail, as he had been quite upset about dropping her off in the middle of Shepard Road. It didn't take too long before he was asking, "Out. Out. Out." We ignored him as best as we could, as it was past his bedtime and the car was less than a mile away.

I arrived at the car nearly exactly 6.2 miles after the start, making this a good possible route for the 10k race.

Anson was not impressed with our discussion of the advantages/disadvantages of this route, and seriously wanted OUT of his Burley. As J started loading our cycles onto the car rack, I started the process of unclipping Anson from the Burley.

And noticed a puddle. Where no puddles should be.

After finally lifting Anson from the Burley, my suspicisions were confirmed. For the last mile, the poor little Doo had been sitting in a puddle of his own making. We all know how uncomfortable wet denim can be; no wonder he wanted "out"!

Of course, since we were going for a short trip on our cycles, we did not bring along any of the many bags containing a spare diaper. And, he was too wet to continue wearing his clothes in the car. So, we stripped him of his pants, said a little thanks that he was wearing a regular shirt (and not a onsie), and wrapped him in a blanket.

Anson was a little distressed about losing his bottoms in a public park, but when we talked about how he got to be a Naked Boy, he was quite happy! The entire way home, we were treated to songs about being naked ("Nakee nakee nakee BOY!") and there was also a dramatic 'Ode to the Toes' ("Oh piggies, piggies, piggies, oh!).

Moral to this story: Always carry a spare diaper in the car. You never know when you might need it. And, if you find yourself suddenly naked, you should sing about it!

First Fruit of the Summer

... with oh, so many more to soon follow!

Hell On Earth

Note: This Blog Post deviates from the typical happy, light posts of The MamaDoo. Anson is not in this post, so if that is all you're reading for, you might as well stop here. This topic is serious, painful, and ugly. It is not one that makes for good conversation. But I feel the need to give evidence to the plight of these women.



There is a preacher in Tulsa who believes that when people die and go to hell, they are reincarnated back into certain horrible places on Earth, Africa being one of them.

The Tulsa preacher has just a theory, but you can't argue that for millions of people in Africa, life is hellish. Especially for women. What is a part of daily existance for so many women all over the world only exists in our nightmares.

We are not justified in complaining that life is not fair.

We are the product of hard-fought struggles to provide us equal rights, rights that we now take for granted. Rights that the majority of women in the world do not have. Rights that the majority of women in the world don't even dream exist.

Painful reminders of how life is for far too many women in Africa:
~Tribal healers in Zimbabwe are spreading the myth that the only way to cure HIV is to rape a virgin. The younger the girl is, the more guarantee she is indeed a virgin. Not only are these girls victims of rape at a horrendously young age, but they become infected with HIV themselves.
http://www.cnn.com/2009/LIVING/06/04/cnnheroes.betty.makoni/index.html
~An estimated 1/3 of women in the Darfurian refugee camps in Chad are rape victims. The number is estimated, as the women hide their rapes for fear of the reprocussions. Those unfortunate enough to become pregnant, unable to hide the evidence of the rape, are ostracized from their families. They are divorced, beaten severely by their family members, and stripped of all possessions, including their clothing. They are completely alone.
http://www.newser.com/article/d98h6ob00/doctors-group-finds-rape-common-against-darfur-women-urges-international-warrants.html
~Bi-sexual and homosexal women in South Africa live in fear that their "secret" will be revealed. Those whose sexuality is revealed are at great risk, as it is becoming more common for these women to be "fixed" through gang rape. If they survive.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2009/mar/12/eudy-simelane-corrective-rape-south-africa

I don't have an answer; no one does. No one will ever know if the Tulsa preacher is right, and these women are indeed reincarnated bad souls. It is easier to accept their fate if we believe that they are indeed deserving of it. But that is a dangerous, dangerous line of thought.


The first thing we can do is to become aware. We can't ameloriate what we do not see. What would the second thing be?

A Recent Compromise with Anson

Scene: Kitchen Table
Time of Day: Breakfast

Mama: Here's your juice, Anson!
Anson: A-pple juice!
Mama: No, it's orange juice.
Anson: A-pple juice! A-pple juice!
Mama: O-range juice.
Anson: [getting mad] A-PPLE JUICE!
Mama: [sigh] No, love, it's orange juice. From oranges.
Anson: A-PPLE JUICE!!!!!
Mama: Yellow juice?
Anson: Yel-low juice!
Mama: Yellow juice.
Anson: [Grins] Yel-low juice!

Bikes... those things are DANGEROUS!

This past weekend, I went mountain biking for the first time of the season. I have a great mountain bike, but I just don't find myself off road very often.

J took me to Battle Creek park, as it had been quite awhile since he had been there on two wheels. I've never been on these trails, on one wheel or two. While I have biked Lebanon Hills, I was already quite familiar with that course before hitting it with that pesky second wheel. I didn't have that going for me at Battle Creek. There were several times when I very seriously thought I would very seriously injure myself. At times, I saw my future flash before my eyes, a future complete with my arm in a sling, gashes across my face, and twigs in my hair.

It all comes down to the fact that those two-wheeled things are dangerous! And really scary!
Bikes go FAST! I'm talking so-fast-the-wind-tears-your-eyes-preventing-you-from-seeing-that-tree-you-just-hit-head-on fast.
Yeah, they have brakes, but those things can only do so much before you get catapoulted over the handlebars.
You not only have to control a wheel in front of you, but a wheel behind you, too. And, these two wheels often want to go two different places.
And, that wheel behind you will fishtail! Which, I'm told, is much better than the wheel in front of you fishtailing.
When you fall, you don't land on your feet. Your feet are too busy being tangled with the rest of the bike.
You can't bail. See above comment about feet tangling with the bike.
Walking a bike down a hill too steep to ride is just as dangerous as actually riding it. At least if you rode down the steep hill, you wouldn't see the tree up ahead that you know you're going to hit. There really is something nice about not knowing you're on an inevitable course towards a painful injury... in this case, ignorance really is bliss!

I started the ride full of confidence. If I can MUni*, how hard can mountain biking be? I ended the ride with my knees knocking together, teeth chattering, and fingernails bitten to the quick. Yes, I exaggerate, but not much.

The next time I find myself doing some off-road cycling, I'm choosing my MUni. When I inevitably encounter a mountain biker who questions my sanity, I'm going to laugh right in their face and call THEM crazy!

*For those in need of a most basic definition, refer to wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mountain_unicycle