CityMama™

In this economy, love thy neighbor

One evening about a month ago, I received a phone call from a woman who attends my beloved hippie church asking me how I was doing and if I wanted to talk to our beloved minister about any issues relating to the economic downturn. (I realize that's a lot of "beloveds," but this place and the people in it are my rocks.) She was reaching out to all the members of our community to ask if we were facing a job loss or home foreclosure or anything else that might be causing financial hardship. She also let me know about a new group forming at church—the "Recession Riders"—and that its members were planning on weathering the economic storm together.

I've heard people saying that the area I live in is "recession proof." Restaurants are packed, people are out and about doing their thing, but I wonder: when it gets worse, and it will, will this area crash that much harder? How many people in my community are barely keeping it together or putting up fronts or needing help but are too afraid to ask?

Dear Cyber-Bullies, Your moms are on Facebook

Last week, a dear friend of mine emailed me a link to Facebook "hate group," created about her son. After getting over the initial shock which included my heart breaking into roughly a thousand pieces, several thoughts ran through my head:

"Who are these kids?"
"Why would they do such a thing?"
"Do their parents know?"
"Why weren't more kids posting comments that this was wrong?"
"Who do I know at Facebook (which is headquartered five minutes from my house)?"
"How do I get this taken down?"

I knew my friend was very upset, but strangely, the person I knew who would emerge from this "okay" was her son. Of course, I felt protective of him, but he's just in a different world from people like that. Did I want to throttle those kids? Yes. Would I feel like an absolute failure as a parent if I knew my kids ever did something like that? HELL yes. But their intended target is one of the most sweet, brilliant, and together kids I know. If anyone could come out of this looking at the bigger picture, I knew it was this amazing boy. The person I was most concerned for, one mother to another, was my friend.

How the Grinch tried to ruin Christmas and how he didn't know he would be blogged

Wallie with her beloved smoked salmon plate.

On Christmas Eve eve the girls and I hit up the local mall with my mom and brother to do some last minute shopping and along the way, we decided to stop and have lunch.  My brother wanted to continue shopping and said he'd meet us for dessert so my mom and I headed into the restaurant with Bunny and Wallie and promised to save him a spot.

Naturally, the narrow restaurant was crowded with shoppers and the many outside tables—normally packed—were empty due to inclement weather. When I asked for a table for five, the grandmotherly hostess (aka Strega Nona, who I think was also the owner) tutted and asked where the fifth member of our party was. I could tell this wasn't going to go well.

"He's shopping," I explained. "But he'll meet us later for dessert."

I was prepared for one of those "we can't seat you until your party is all here" spiels, but instead she huffed and said something even more frustrating, "You are going to order food...right?"

It was the "dot-dot-dot, right" that killed me.

I blinked.

Twice.

Why would she ask that question? Sometimes I think (and this is something that is probably common with mixed race folk though we don't readily admit it), "Is it because I'm not white? Is that why you think I won't order something?" I don't want to go there, but I've been learned to be disappointed by presumptuous people. And she looked presumptuous. It wouldn't be the first time someone assumed something incorrect about me based on my appearance.

I wanted to scream, "I'm half-Italian! Aren't you Italian, too?" But instead I said."Yes, we're here for lunch." We were standing in the crowded entry and people were pushing past us bumping their shopping bags into ours and all I could think was, "I'm getting out of here." But at that moment she sighed and said, "Hold on, let me prepare a table."  And so we waited.

fall. beauties.

It was cold today, but that didn't stop us from taking a pre-dinner walk outside. My plan was to leave the house while it was still light out and be out walking the neighborhood as it turned to dusk.

We are all a little antsy in the late afternoon. Work is wrapping up for the day and yet I sit at my monitor just in case one more email comes in. My to-do list has only three checks on it. The empty boxes are mocking me. I need to get outside.

The girls have gone from games to drawing to playing and are just about to start causing little rows. So we threw on our hodge-podge of it's-cold-but-we-live-in-California attire (jackets, dresses, scarves, shoes with no socks) and prepare to head out. Before we could leave Bunny needed to get her diary. Wallie grabbed her stuffed rabbit.

SF Peninsula/Silicon Valley Community Note: Solidarity Vigils to Protest Passing of Prop. 8

Candlelight vigils in support of the right to marry and in protest of the passage of Proposition 8 will be held throughout the peninsula and south bay on Monday, November 10, from 5:00pm-6:30pm. "Standing on the Side of Love" is the theme for these prayerful, peaceful witnesses in solidarity with same sex couples who are being denied basic civil rights through Proposition 8. Families, students, allies, people of faith, of conscience and of compassion are encouraged to attend.

Locations of vigils include Palo Alto at the corner of El Camino Real and Embarcadero, Redwood City at El Camino and Jefferson Ave., Belmont at El Camino and Ralston Ave. (on Caltrain side of street), and San Mateo at El Camino and Fifth Ave., San Jose at S. Bascom and Hamilton Ave., San Jose in front of the Metropolitan Community Church at 65 South 7th Street. For the most up-to-date list of gathering places and links to maps see http://www.councilofchurches-scc.org.

There is no proposition that can be passed, no law that can be written, and no constitutional amendment that can be added which can ever truly deny the love and commitment between two people. We cannot be silent when the rights of anyone are eliminated. Now is the time to stand on the side of love.

Participants are invited to bring candles, rainbow flags, and banners from communities of faith if they wish.

Family Closed: Will return on Monday

This week I've been thinking a lot about how precious the time that my family spends together as a whole family is. We rarely eat dinner together during the week because my husband works start-up hours and often isn't home until after the girls go to bed.  Their early schedule doesn't help matters. They are hungry for dinner between 5:00 pm and 5:30 pm and begging to be put to bed starting at 6:30. I do my best to distract them with stories until 7:00 pm or else I fear going to bed too early will mean they'll be up at 6:00 am. So J. comes home, peeks in on them, gives them kisses they won't remember in the morning, and eats his dinner alone.

The nights he does get home in time for bedtime, the usual calmness of our bedtime story time is interrupted by excited squeals and shrieks of, "Papa! Papa!" There's no keeping the girls in bed when they hear his key in the lock. I feign annoyance, playing bad cop and shooing the girls finally to bed, but not before J. has constructed an elaborate ruse (never the same twice) to get them into bed, "Meow like a kitty all the way to your room while hopping, then get under your covers and bark like a dog. First one in bed who does those things gets five extra kisses," he says. "I'm gonna be first," they giggle. My heart explodes with happiness and love from the cuteness of it all.

Mornings used to be family time together every day, but a couple nights a week, J. has to return to the office or data center for late night work and when that happens we let him sleep in.  It's hard being "on" from 7:20 am (when I get up) until 7:00 pm when the girls go bed especially since I work from home and am also the biker to school, the carpool driver, school and church volunteer, swimming lessons shuttle-er (twice a day on Thursdays), and go-to playmate, but I try to remember that this schedule won't last forever.

That's why the time we actually get to spend together, usually on the weekend, is so sacred.

The saga of the swimming lessons

Here's the thing that frustrates me about large group lessons (more than 4 kids): kids spend most of their time waiting around to do the strokes or whatever rather than doing them themselves. And while they are waiting around they aren't paying attention, they waiting around bored. Or they are chatting with their friends or splashing each other and otherwise screwing off. Or so it was all winter long at the Y when my girls did their lessons last year. Teacher's fault? Partly, but beyond 3-4 students, how much time can the instructor realistically give each student in a 40 minute lesson?

Last summer and this summer they had 1:1 lessons with a competition swimmer, a seasoned instructor, someone who knows her shite. They did this every single day they spent in Hawaii. After their lessons I practiced with them and each day they grew exponentially better and more confident with their skills. I am now a firm believer that large group lessons do not work if you want your kid to progress quickly as a swimmer, especially as it relates to proper swimming technique. I guess it's like anything.

Now that we are back from Hawaii, we are still spending lots of time in the pool, but since Bunny wants to do swim team this fall, I have been in search of lessons that match my philosophy of swimming, that philosphy being: Stop being a baby and swim, goddammit. Not that I would ever say that out loud. I'm grilling everyone, "Do you like your lessons?" "Why?" "How many kids are in your class?" "Is the pool heated?" "Are your kids making quick progress?"

Food, no-so glorious, food

Recently J. and I have been having passing conversations about food, what it costs, and how we want to feed our family. It started because I notice that every time we go to the farmer's market together, he's a total grump (yes, you are @theJB, don't EVEN try to front) when he sees his 60 fresh-from-the ATM machine dollars whittled down to zero dollars in a matter of 20 minutes. It is startling, but since I am the one that normally does the shopping, it doesn't phase me as much. I know what we are buying is exactly what we need and that it's things that my girls will eat. They help to choose our produce and I'm teaching them to support their local food growers, their local community. J. and I don't exactly see eye-to-eye on this subject. In fact, I'm realizing we have two divergent opinions on the matter.

Me:
I like to shop at farmer's markets for organic, locally grown produce. I do the cooking so I should have the most say. I read Michael Pollan and Barbara Kingsolver and don't want to feed my kids genetically modified foods or tainted beef. Plus, rainbow chard makes a pretty picture in the morning sun. See?

Him:
"Giant packs of frozen burritos are BOGO at Safeway! That's 20 burritos for five bucks! That's lunch for, like, two weeks! Michael who?"

"But I like shopping at the farmer's market because everything is fresh and organic,"  I'll say.

"And I like Safeway because it's cheap," he'll counter.

The thing is, he's right. He is. But I want to be right, too. Though, when I find myself noticing the "pretty chard," I have to stop my visual-learning-self and say, "You sound like an idiot."  Shopping at farmer's markets is expensive, hell, it's a luxury, and we live in one of the most expensive communities in the entire country. You can make six figures here and still never feel "wealthy." So how do we strike a balance?

Silicon Valley PSA: Come learn about dessert and cocktails, I mean blogging! Yes, blogging! At Cubes and Crayons in Menlo Park!

Recently a new co-working space opened near me, and while I was working there this week (while Wallie happily played in the child development center) I had to pause and look around at my private, quiet, window office and wonder, "Where were you two years ago Cubes and Crayons! If you had been around you could have saved me a Wellbutrin prescription or three!"

Ah, but that was then, and this is now, and Felicity Chapman deserves a big, huge, group hug for starting Cubes and Crayons. Now that I am working again, I am doing it right this time. No more trying to juggle working at home only to make everyone miserable and cranky. Me because of the constant interruptions, the girls because they want to play not be ignored. And look! No 'scrips this time!

Not only did I get so. much. work. done. when I was there, all the other mothers working there looked happy and productive, too. Why? Because they were working in peace and quiet in a beautifully appointed private office and their sweet babies were napping or playing down the hall.  Brilliant. Thank you, thank you, Felicity.

On that note...

If you live in Silicon Valley and want to learn more about blogging (how to get started, how to get motivated, security issues, how blogging relates to social media etc.) please come to a blogging workshop next week at Cubes and Crayons! I'm going to be on a panel along with the lovely and talented Jill Asher and others, and it will be moderated by Elisa Camahort, BlogHer co-founder and COO.

I'd love to see you there! And maybe for drinks after? Here are the details:

Worst "Carma" Ever

Since we bought our car a little over a year ago...

• we've had to replace a cracked windshield to the tune of 6 Benjamins
• it's been rear-ended by a drunk taxi driver (his insurance paid to fix it)
• the passenger side door was scratched/dinged by a hit-and-run driver (we don't know when it happened since we rarely drive the car)

And, this morning, our neighbor backed into the driver's side door. Merry Christmas to us.

Funnily enough not a thing happened to it when we lived in San Francisco and parked it on the street every night.  All of the above happened while living here. So I guess not everything about the 'burbs is idyllic.

#$%@!!!!