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?
Friday, June 5, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
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!
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!
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
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
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
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
The Grass is Always Greener...
... follow-up to yesterday's post...
Thanks to an already-planned vacation day, the lucky Doo had both Mama & Daddy with him all day yesterday (Tuesday). J ended the day with a MUni ride at Battlecreek Park, which meant he left at 5:30 for a few hours.
I am not exaggerating to say that Da-Doo cried for hours, wanting his Daddy!
This was the first time he has ever played favorites. It broke my heart.
He refused to go to sleep, elevating his already-high level of crabbiness. There was nothing I could do to make him happy, and so carried him around, bouncing him like a tiny baby for what seemed like hours. I don't know how Mamas of chunky babies can do it!
By the time 9:00 rolled around, the two of us were both at our wit's ends. We saw Daddy's car roll up to the curb, and there were two huge smiles to greet him as he walked in the door. Da-Doo refused to walk to Daddy (see above note about carrying him for hours), so I carried him over and passed him off, so eager to finally eat dinner.
Then... ready for the very predictible punch-line??? ...
Da-Doo cried and cried and CRIED for Mama. He refused to go to bed, because Mama wasn't holding him. Sigh.
'The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence', or, in Da-Doo's world, 'the favored parent is the one not holding you'.
Thanks to an already-planned vacation day, the lucky Doo had both Mama & Daddy with him all day yesterday (Tuesday). J ended the day with a MUni ride at Battlecreek Park, which meant he left at 5:30 for a few hours.
I am not exaggerating to say that Da-Doo cried for hours, wanting his Daddy!
This was the first time he has ever played favorites. It broke my heart.
He refused to go to sleep, elevating his already-high level of crabbiness. There was nothing I could do to make him happy, and so carried him around, bouncing him like a tiny baby for what seemed like hours. I don't know how Mamas of chunky babies can do it!
By the time 9:00 rolled around, the two of us were both at our wit's ends. We saw Daddy's car roll up to the curb, and there were two huge smiles to greet him as he walked in the door. Da-Doo refused to walk to Daddy (see above note about carrying him for hours), so I carried him over and passed him off, so eager to finally eat dinner.
Then... ready for the very predictible punch-line??? ...
Da-Doo cried and cried and CRIED for Mama. He refused to go to bed, because Mama wasn't holding him. Sigh.
'The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence', or, in Da-Doo's world, 'the favored parent is the one not holding you'.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Welcome to Summer, Minnesota!
We approached this weekend with the goal of maximizing our fun as a way to 'Welcome to Summer, Minnesota!' J actually took Tuesday off of work as well, so that we could all have a four day weekend.
We did the best we could, given a really sick Doo.
Friday, we walked as a family to the neighborhood liquor store. The nice Chinese lady offered the Doo a Dum-Dum (what is it with liquor store and these tiny suckers??? I remember these from when I was little!), we kept the wrapper on, and he happily used it as a teething tool. I finally brought out my cobwebbed martini glasses, and made most delicious cosmopolitans. Enough said.
Saturday, J had Part One of his weekend hands-on motorcycling class. He was the class loser until the instructor discovered a problem with his bike's brake. Once fixed, he became the class star. The Doo and I took walks, talked about "neighbor's stairs", and played with said neighbors. 'Twas a pleasant day.
Sunday, J had Part Two of his class, and left the house earlier than a typical workday. Unfortunately, the Doo woke up on the crabby side of the crib. The seriously crabby side. In a big puddle of drool. Have I mentioned he's teething his Two-Year-Molars?
I really wanted to go to my yoga class, though, so I dosed him with teething medicine, and asked him if we should go to yoga. "Yoga! Yoga!" was his excited reply, so off we went. When we arrived, we discovered that this was the last weekend with yoga childcare, so we were glad we went!
Though happy at yoga, the crabbiness returned once we arrived home, which made for a seriously long day. Just about everything made the poor little guy cry, and he refused to eat even his beloved cranberries or Happy Cookies. He also somehow managed to get his entire fist in his mouth (apparently, the vast amounts of drool he was generating provided the proper amount of lubrication for this feat to happen). And... uh oh... after I realized that he was feeling really warm all day, we discovered that he had a small temp. His first! This was also the worst he has teethed, so I wasn't too surprised.
By nightfall, I felt victim to the Serious Crabbies. J shoved a martini glass in my hand, and pushed me out the door with my laptop and a book so I could enjoy the evening sitting on our patio. Away from crying babies. Another home-remedy cure for the Crabbies was Good Neighbor L, who hung out for awhile :)
However, the temp continued throughout Sunday night, no fun for any of us.
Monday, the temp continued, but the Doo was now enjoying great amounts of Tylenol and Motrin. We all needed to get out of the house, so we decided to go to the "Airplane Park" to watch the "big airplanes". Since I was completely burnt out of Doo Care from the previous day, I rode to the park to meet the Boys. It was the first longish ride since my knee issue, and everything felt great. In fact, better than great. We're talking first-rate, glorious, brilliant, exceptional, marvelous, delightful, and wonderful! I had forgotten how riding in the sun makes me giddy with happiness!
Later that evening, more riding (this time on a 20" wheel) was done as I had to sub at ShowGroup practice. The Boys came with, and the Doo had a fun time watching Mama and the "Noo-nees". Plus, Echo the Dog was there! And she wasn't scary!! And she allowed the Doo to pet her!!! However, the temp continued.
Monday night, the little guy learned how to say "HOT" in regards to his condition, as he was burning up. This is when we realized that this was not a teething fever.
Tuesday, we went to see his pediatrician, who discovered an ear infection in his right ear (or, in medical speak, OM AD). Then came another first for the Doo: his first antibiotic. He took that shot of amoxicillin like a young man doing his first shot of tequila -- with a look of disgust and a shudder. I wouldn't have been surprised if he had pounded his fist on the table!
Welcome, Minnesota, to Summer!
We did the best we could, given a really sick Doo.
Friday, we walked as a family to the neighborhood liquor store. The nice Chinese lady offered the Doo a Dum-Dum (what is it with liquor store and these tiny suckers??? I remember these from when I was little!), we kept the wrapper on, and he happily used it as a teething tool. I finally brought out my cobwebbed martini glasses, and made most delicious cosmopolitans. Enough said.
Saturday, J had Part One of his weekend hands-on motorcycling class. He was the class loser until the instructor discovered a problem with his bike's brake. Once fixed, he became the class star. The Doo and I took walks, talked about "neighbor's stairs", and played with said neighbors. 'Twas a pleasant day.
Sunday, J had Part Two of his class, and left the house earlier than a typical workday. Unfortunately, the Doo woke up on the crabby side of the crib. The seriously crabby side. In a big puddle of drool. Have I mentioned he's teething his Two-Year-Molars?
I really wanted to go to my yoga class, though, so I dosed him with teething medicine, and asked him if we should go to yoga. "Yoga! Yoga!" was his excited reply, so off we went. When we arrived, we discovered that this was the last weekend with yoga childcare, so we were glad we went!
Though happy at yoga, the crabbiness returned once we arrived home, which made for a seriously long day. Just about everything made the poor little guy cry, and he refused to eat even his beloved cranberries or Happy Cookies. He also somehow managed to get his entire fist in his mouth (apparently, the vast amounts of drool he was generating provided the proper amount of lubrication for this feat to happen). And... uh oh... after I realized that he was feeling really warm all day, we discovered that he had a small temp. His first! This was also the worst he has teethed, so I wasn't too surprised.
By nightfall, I felt victim to the Serious Crabbies. J shoved a martini glass in my hand, and pushed me out the door with my laptop and a book so I could enjoy the evening sitting on our patio. Away from crying babies. Another home-remedy cure for the Crabbies was Good Neighbor L, who hung out for awhile :)
However, the temp continued throughout Sunday night, no fun for any of us.
Monday, the temp continued, but the Doo was now enjoying great amounts of Tylenol and Motrin. We all needed to get out of the house, so we decided to go to the "Airplane Park" to watch the "big airplanes". Since I was completely burnt out of Doo Care from the previous day, I rode to the park to meet the Boys. It was the first longish ride since my knee issue, and everything felt great. In fact, better than great. We're talking first-rate, glorious, brilliant, exceptional, marvelous, delightful, and wonderful! I had forgotten how riding in the sun makes me giddy with happiness!
Later that evening, more riding (this time on a 20" wheel) was done as I had to sub at ShowGroup practice. The Boys came with, and the Doo had a fun time watching Mama and the "Noo-nees". Plus, Echo the Dog was there! And she wasn't scary!! And she allowed the Doo to pet her!!! However, the temp continued.
Monday night, the little guy learned how to say "HOT" in regards to his condition, as he was burning up. This is when we realized that this was not a teething fever.
Tuesday, we went to see his pediatrician, who discovered an ear infection in his right ear (or, in medical speak, OM AD). Then came another first for the Doo: his first antibiotic. He took that shot of amoxicillin like a young man doing his first shot of tequila -- with a look of disgust and a shudder. I wouldn't have been surprised if he had pounded his fist on the table!
Welcome, Minnesota, to Summer!
Friday, May 22, 2009
I'm no Dara Moskowitz Grumdahl, but... LA CHAYA!
Last night, I went out to dinner with my group of fabulous Mamas. Our monthly dinner dates are always packed full of good conversation, good food, and fabulous friendships. We make a point of trying out small and local restaurants, and visit a new one each month.
La Chaya was the chosen restaurant for the month of May. It is a restaurant in south Minneapolis, somewhat near Uptown, and looked intriguing enough from a drive-by to warrant a visit.
And, WOW, what a restaurant! The ambiance, the wait staff, the FOOD.
You may recall the weather this past week to be absolutely beautiful. Bright blue skies, a slight wind, warm temperatures. As our reservations were at 8:00, though, we reluctantly passed on a table on the back patio in fear of the evening becoming too cool once the sun set. However, we were delighted to see that the indoor seating area had two large doors that were flung open. Light muslin curtains hung over the open doorway, permitting us to experience all the delights of outdoor eating without feeling the nighttime chill.
La Chaya's menu is small, but exquisite. There were more than enough options for the carnivore and "snobby vegetarian" alike. The Mexian-Mediterranean fusions created fun twists on old favorites.
However, it was the Daily Specials that really generated excitement. With the first mention of the herb-infused crab cakes, all of our eyebrows raised, and by the time the host described the final item our jaws had dropped to our knees and our laps covered in drool.
I started with the spinach salad that was served with carmelized apples, magical walnuts, and a truly sensational balsalmic reduction vinegrette. It was even more phenomenal than it sounds. I ended with the artichoke soup that quite literally was HEAVENLY. I have never been more stunned at a first taste. And my delight grew with every bite, so much so that by the time I was scraping the bowl, I was nearly swooning. I could desribe the soup as liquid velvet seducing my every taste bud, but even that description would do the soup a disservice. My mouth is actually watering right now as I type this. And, while La Chaya is not the cheapest restaurant I have dined at, that bowl of soup was $4. FOUR dollars! It was, very literally, the best $4 I have ever spent.
I can't describe myself as a foodie, and I am a far cry from being a food critic. Additionally, the audience of this blog is quite limited. However, I feel I must do everything I possibly can to promote this restaurant and increase their business. If only because it is the best way I know how to ensure future bowls of artichoke soup and other delights will cross my palate.
Check out their website for more information: http://www.lachaya.com/
La Chaya was the chosen restaurant for the month of May. It is a restaurant in south Minneapolis, somewhat near Uptown, and looked intriguing enough from a drive-by to warrant a visit.
And, WOW, what a restaurant! The ambiance, the wait staff, the FOOD.
You may recall the weather this past week to be absolutely beautiful. Bright blue skies, a slight wind, warm temperatures. As our reservations were at 8:00, though, we reluctantly passed on a table on the back patio in fear of the evening becoming too cool once the sun set. However, we were delighted to see that the indoor seating area had two large doors that were flung open. Light muslin curtains hung over the open doorway, permitting us to experience all the delights of outdoor eating without feeling the nighttime chill.
La Chaya's menu is small, but exquisite. There were more than enough options for the carnivore and "snobby vegetarian" alike. The Mexian-Mediterranean fusions created fun twists on old favorites.
However, it was the Daily Specials that really generated excitement. With the first mention of the herb-infused crab cakes, all of our eyebrows raised, and by the time the host described the final item our jaws had dropped to our knees and our laps covered in drool.
I started with the spinach salad that was served with carmelized apples, magical walnuts, and a truly sensational balsalmic reduction vinegrette. It was even more phenomenal than it sounds. I ended with the artichoke soup that quite literally was HEAVENLY. I have never been more stunned at a first taste. And my delight grew with every bite, so much so that by the time I was scraping the bowl, I was nearly swooning. I could desribe the soup as liquid velvet seducing my every taste bud, but even that description would do the soup a disservice. My mouth is actually watering right now as I type this. And, while La Chaya is not the cheapest restaurant I have dined at, that bowl of soup was $4. FOUR dollars! It was, very literally, the best $4 I have ever spent.
I can't describe myself as a foodie, and I am a far cry from being a food critic. Additionally, the audience of this blog is quite limited. However, I feel I must do everything I possibly can to promote this restaurant and increase their business. If only because it is the best way I know how to ensure future bowls of artichoke soup and other delights will cross my palate.
Check out their website for more information: http://www.lachaya.com/
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Boys with Sticks
This past weekend, we had a family good-bye / good-luck party for Sgt K (have to differentiate him from all the other millions of K's I'm related to, thank you Mom and Dad).
My favorite image from the evening is one that I feel will be a lasting memory.
Da-Doo asked Sgt K to go on a "walk!" and presented him with the big blue eyes and earnest expression that is so hard to deny. I glanced up to see Da-Doo and Sgt K heading down the sidewalk. The top of the Doo's head was barely above Sgt K's knee, Sgt K was moving his legs slower than a turtle, and Da-Doo was booking it so fast his bottom was waddling, but they somehow looked natural walking together.
They returned a few minutes later. Both carrying sticks. Da-Doo was waving his in time to his excited babbling. Sgt K was carrying his more demurely, with his head bent down to listen intently to the gibberish story.
It really was an "awww" moment.
My favorite image from the evening is one that I feel will be a lasting memory.
Da-Doo asked Sgt K to go on a "walk!" and presented him with the big blue eyes and earnest expression that is so hard to deny. I glanced up to see Da-Doo and Sgt K heading down the sidewalk. The top of the Doo's head was barely above Sgt K's knee, Sgt K was moving his legs slower than a turtle, and Da-Doo was booking it so fast his bottom was waddling, but they somehow looked natural walking together.
They returned a few minutes later. Both carrying sticks. Da-Doo was waving his in time to his excited babbling. Sgt K was carrying his more demurely, with his head bent down to listen intently to the gibberish story.
It really was an "awww" moment.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)