dearest daughters & son

first grader baby advice

"Are you pregnant?" asks a first grader who has come up to me during recess.

"Why yes, I am," I say proudly for about the umpteenth time today.

"Why'd you put that in there?" she asks with a look of disgust on her face.

"Well, I guess..." I reply, taken aback by her response, because the follow-up question is usually: "Is it a boy or a girl?" or "When is it due?" I continue, "I wanted a baby, I guess."

She scrunches her nose up as if a fellow first grader just farted during storytime while the whole class is crowded on the carpet: "Um, why?"

"Why not?" I asked. "Do you think it might turn out bad?... like you?" I joke.

"Yup." she responds matter of factly.

The bell rings and she has to run off to line up with her class. As she turns she advises me: "When you get home tonight, you better get that out of there!"

Sometimes, I eat my boogers.

I subbed in a kindergarten class yesterday. It was lots of fun as usual and make me feel like I could actually be a real, live teacher. Kindergarten isn't fun because they're "cute"; I'm not really someone who falls for kittens and rainbows. And they aren't really that cute. They can be nasty and whinny and needy. What I do like about five year olds is that they're pretty transparent. What you see is what you get. They don't know how to play games or be "bad" on they playground yet. Many don't have a filter yet either, so the conversations are fun.

Seeing a boy picking his nose and walking around when he should have been doing quiet reading, I asked him if he needed a tissue. Not that he needed one. Maybe it was one of those boogers you can't get with a tissue; the kind that needs a nail. Or maybe it was just an itch. But I asked anyway, because it just seemed like something I should do as his teacher to teach him about appropriate public behavior.

"No."

"Are you sure? Maybe you should go get a tissue and wash your hands so we don't spread germs." Can you spread germs with boogers? I don't know, but it seemed a persuasive argument.

"Sometimes, sometimes, uh, sometimes," he stutters, "I eat my boogers." Students nearby whisper "ewwww" and "gross!"

I wasn't really sure how to respond to such a straightforward and almost unabashed proclamation: "Thank you for that information. Now get a book for quiet reading."

randomness

i couldn't twitter this because, well, it'd just be nerdy, but the Dog Whisperer is following me (!) on twitter. at first i thought the email telling me "cesarmillan" was following me on twitter was just some hack posing as a demi-god, but i think it's the real thing! if not cesar himself, then someone who works for him, is following me! i think this is all due to the one tweet i wrote about watching the Dog Whisperer for parenting advice.

in addition to the Dog Whisperer's "parenting" philosophies, i've been thinking about Darwin's whole "survival of the fittest" theory. i mentioned this to my mother and she informed me that Darwin probably wouldn't hold up in court if i was accused of child neglect, so i guess i'll feed my baby formula or soy milk or something if she absolutely refuses to be breastfed.... survival of the fittest... i'm just saying...

creative endeavors

i should probably just post these things as they happen, but that'd be asking a lot. at least i document them as they happen. the following are some of the creative endeavors i've undertaken lately.

well this post really all began because today i harvested this:

my first homegrown salad! thanks to seeds (yes seeds!) from kta. seeds! that began their lives about a month ago like this:

oh, then there was the pear and brie pizza that i made for my parents. the dough was from trader joe's i'll admit, but that doesn't mean i haven't made my own dough in the past!

next was a yoga mat bag that i made sans pattern for my auntie jonelle's birthday present.

my latest "creation" was a DIY revamping of some ugly laminate bookcases beadle owned dating back to the pre-lauren era. with my little brother's help, i sanded and primed and painted the shelves and case part of the bookcases. i modpoged paper source paper onto the shelf back panels. reassembled and voila! funky bookcases that believe it or not actually fade into the background of the rest of our furniture better than fakey cherry "wood" bookcases.

well i'm obviously pretty impressed with myself. my most impressive creation though, which blows my mind every time i think about it is that "thing" growing in there.

21 weeks!

"I have to go pee!!!"

Dear "It's coming out now!!!",

Is it really? Coming out now? Lemme see your pants. Nope. Doesn't look like it. I think you're trying to pull one over on me, since you've already gone twice today during class. Not to mention you should really be using your recess and lunch breaks to go potty instead of playing "Bloody Mary." No, you may not go pee. Oh! But look at your face! Maybe you really do have to go pee. No, you're just a good actor. But then again, I don't really want to wipe up any pee. Or be that one teacher that ruined your life because she made you pee in your pants in front of your entire 1st grade class. Or, more importantly, the teacher who didn't listen and didn't believe you the one time your really were telling the truth, because the first two times you asked to go pee you really were just playing in the bathroom, but this time is FOR REALS!!! Okay, you can go. But, be quick! Now, there's three other kids asking me to go to the bathroom and they can't go until you get back. What? It's coming out of you too? Kid. When I sneeze it comes out! You can hold it until he gets back. Oh, never mind, forget it. I'm just a sub, not the guardian of elementary school righteousness. Just go.

Sincerely,

Your Substitute Teacher

a normal family? abnormal family?

While I would never claim to know what it feels like to be the child of divorced parents, the concept is not new to me.

From the time I could speak, I could expertly and confidently explain the structure of my "blended" family to those who just needed to know. "So she's your half-sister then?" they'd ask. To which I'd respond, "Well, yeah, technically, but it's not like that. She's just my sister."

Most of my childhood friends came from "untraditional" families. In fact, a nuclear family was the exception to the rule. And if my friends weren't being raised by grandparents, a single parent, a remarried parent, a separated parent with a new live-in partner or otherwise, then there were undoubtedly other factors that made their families unique: recently immigrated, lived in the projects, English language learners, too many kids to count, foster children. The point being, I was raised around diversity of all kinds and therefore never had cause to feel embarrassed or insecure about my own family's "deviation" from the [perceived and politically popular] norm. I was blessed to never live in a community where my differences made me feel isolated. Plus, I had rockin' parents who wouldn't have ever let me believe that Malibu Barbie must be married to a white Ken and therefore made me buy the black Ken as Barbie's "life partner" and the black baby as their out-of-wedlock love child.

I didn't even think to be embarrassed or insecure until I went to college and almost all of my friends were from nuclear (and white generally) families. But, then we were in college. I was an intellectual and when insecurities about my family structure that I didn't know existed bubbled to the surface, I could intellectualize them. Or get defensive. Against no one in particular, but against the society that would try to put my family in a box. But, eff them, right? I don't care what they think.

And now I find my insecurities bubbling again. While my husband's family is kind, loving and a mixed family born of transnational adoption itself, I want he and them to love me so much that I worry what they think. "You're mom was married three times?! AND she's a pastor?!" Well, yes, but third times a charm right? And she's a very wise woman. And no I wasn't a confused child. And yes my sister and brother are my real sister and brother. And their children are my real nieces. And my father considers them to be his real grandchildren. These are questions I've answered throughout my life, but never thought to be insecure about. I don't believe my husband and his family judge me, but I worry.

Especially now that I'm starting (or continuing depending on how you look at it) my family. I'm flooded with worries and insecurities about how I'll raise my child and who will judge me. I had a wonderful childhood surrounded by siblings with a mutual dependence, diversity, raised by extended family, calling every adult Auntie or Uncle, a working/going to school mother, a father who french-braided and cooks better Filipino food than my mom, a house that's perpetually messy with dishes to be done, pet rats, spontaneity and unflinching loyalty. And it all seemed normal and wonderful to me until I had to blend with someone else's norms that sometimes feel foreign. (I'm sure beadle feels similarly about my family). My family's unconventional "deviation" from the norm has made my family and me who I am. I don't want a normal family.

My mom (the older and more senile she gets) will insure that my family will never be normal. I will too. I just need to be okay with that. And I hope that my husband and his family will be too as we combine our family's culture and norms to create a wonderfully abnormal family all our own.