Tuesday, 18 June 2013
Friday, 10 May 2013
Sunday, 9 September 2012
I might start writing here again. My husband and my sister will be so thrilled,
My husband (hi, baby, could you bring me up a glass of water? thanks) sent me this article this morning. He was indignant. He is a much devoted dad, non-violent, a homeschooler. He is a person. He, like most, doesn't appreciate people hurting kids.
Well, thing is, apparently, allegedly, some public schools in the US have gone berserk. As there is no money, or little money, and too many kids and not enough teachers, and kids do tend to misbehave, being kids and all, well ... what do you do when a little
What you do have is a child, Rose. She is small enough to be oh so vulnerable, still trying to figure out the world, scared shitless.
Mr. Lichtenstein wrote the article. He is Rose's dad. And my beef is with him. I am not carte blanching the teacher, the school, the district or sick and twisted humanity as a whole. Those are all accountable. But Mr. Lichtenstein is Rose's dad. Why in the spinning world did it take him 3 months to find out what was happening to his daughter? She started freaking out during Nemo, when the shark attacks, he says. We thought that was kinda weird, so we like totally called the school and everything. We were like hey, what's up with that, what's up with Rose? And they were all, like, uh, nothing, oh, I don't know, you know, she's like little and all, who knows, I mean, yeah, nothing. So my wife, Mrs goes by her maiden name and I were all like, ok.
I think the really frightening part, in social development terms, is not as much that our schools are locking children up for misbehaviour, but that as parents it takes us a good 3 months to find out.
Our four year old overheard us discussing this. He asked, what does misbehave mean? Bless his little homeschooled heart. Which is not to say that we are too neo-hippy, all loving, AP perfect to get it right every time, or to notice every little thing, although I do hope we'd notice if someone was routinely locking them in closets. But we do strive to let them be who they are. Although, sometimes not, when who they are spits on the living room floor. Not perfect; but I preempted with that.
Wednesday, 9 September 2009
Friday, 14 August 2009
Sunday, 12 July 2009
Thursday, 26 March 2009
Thursday, 19 March 2009
Thursday, 26 February 2009
Wednesday, 25 February 2009
Tuesday, 24 February 2009
Friday, 20 February 2009
Thursday, 19 February 2009
Sunday, 15 February 2009
Jhumpa Lahiri, besides being gorgeous, is a marvelous and sensitive writer. My favorite of her books is The Namesake (I know, Jacinda Barrett, don't hold it against her). Probably because I like novels - I get sad when stories end. Unaccostumed Earth is beautiful and thoroughly enjoyable. Interpreter of Maladies is great too. Oh what the hell, I love Jhumpa.
Lahiri writes simple prose that conveys a detailed setting and personable characters. I suppose it is important that she writes about Indian immigrants. More importantly, she writes about loss - of cultural identity, of loved ones. There is no doom in her stories - even with the melancholy yearning for a homecoming that can never be because when one sets sail no home will ever again be able to claim us. Lahiri writes about people, with an understanding of their complexity, their love, and acceptance of the limitations that life imposes. I like these books. I wish I hadn't read them so I could read them new again.
Saturday, 14 February 2009
We bought a little hamoc-y bath chair for the critter. It was cute as hell and, we thought, insanely important. The teeny baby would lay on it safelly for his bath.
When he was small enough to use it we ended up having to fill his tub higher with water to accomodate the chair. He felt safer in our arms without the chair in the way. A week later, he got too big for it anyway.
It's now in a bag in the closet, making Wynn mad it adds to the mounds of crap we have to pack. I want to hang on to it, though. We might need it for when we have another kid - the colors are so pretty and I'm sure it will be useful. (I am a pack rat with the memory of a goldfish).