nina turns 40

single motherhood...

it's not for the faint of heart

the kidlet turns 5

It's the kidlet's fifth birthday tomorrow, and we're having his first kids' party this weekend. Spent a small fortune on paper plates, cups, streamers, and table cloths that we will proceed to throw away after the party and I'm feeling guilty about that--I usually don't buy anything disposable. I will try to save the plastic silverware, at least. I was remarking to someone not long ago about how being a parent is remarkably like being in high school, there is that constant sense of being compared and contrasted with everyone else, of being watched to see what stuff you buy, and how cool you are, but this time by virtue of your child. I remember very well the first time I took the kidlet for a ride in his stroller around Greenlake. There were plenty of other parents and tots doing the same and we were all checking out each other's strollers and baby clothes and even cuteness factor of the babies, to see how we all measured up. Very high school. Almost creepy. So now I have to worry about how much fun the kidlet's party will be compared to everyone else's party. And of course the really ridiculous part is that I don't think the kids care that much at all. They have a good time doing just about anything.

mujer zombi

The kidlet's back from G&G's house, which means I got no sleep last night, which means I'm a cranky mama. Then I found this. They don't even address the health issues associated with increased caffeine consumption which is a major coping mechanism for my sleep deprivation. I forget how chronic it really is until I have a morning like Monday where my alarm goes off and it surprises me because I realize I've actually slept through the entire night. And I thought the worst thing about going without enough sleep most of the time was that it makes me look like an extra on the set of Night of the Living Dead.

Finally made it here. Interesting thing about it, it has no permanent collection, just rotating exhibits (which in my book makes it a gallery, not a museum). I found the outdoor plazas--and the architecture itself--more striking than what was inside, with the exception of the hot shop where they have several very large furances rather like the gates to hell, and you can watch glass artists at work. Like most Seattleites, I tend to ignore Tacoma, so it was fun to wander about the weekend emptiness of downtown and ogle the beautiful renovated or abandoned old buildings. And of course there were martinis and microbrews...

viernes trece

It's been quite the week. I've been involved with cops, lawyers, and kindergarten teachers, and that was all before Wednesday. Now I'm having issues of a more mundane kind. My card reader won't work, so I can't post the cool foto that I wanted to go with this entry, and I can't access my email. The kidlet is going to G&G's this afternoon, and I'm really looking forward to some serious down time, but no, I don't get a three day weekend. All of this is pretty meaningless, however, when I consider that my mom lost a dear friend yesterday. As she said when she told me: never take anything for granted.

I've been very excited about the prospect of sending the kidlet to public school. In addition to my sincere belief in the benefits of a public school education, I pay a hefty chunk of my salary (more than my rent) to the preschool he goes to now, and I was looking forward to having some extra cash on hand. It turns out, however, that if you want your child to go to a good public school, ya gotta pay extra! That's right, anywhere from $850 to $2100 a year to go to PUBLIC kindergarten, that is if you want class sizes under 30, and arts programs, etc. etc. On top of that there is before and after school care to pay for, so I could end up with the same education/childcare bill that I'm paying now. Grrrrrrrrrr. Even public school is very politicized. The better schools are largely white, and in neighborhoods where parents don't blink an eye at the "pay for K" program, and while you are able to register your child for any school in the district, priority is given to the folks closest to the school. It's pretty discouraging, to say the least.

As a single mom I rely on a lot of people for support. I simply couldn't do it without my parents, for one, but also in ever widening circles, my community is very important to me. Recently I've had the opportunity to help someone who is in a similar situation. I don't really know her that well yet, our friendship is just beginning, but circumstances are such that I was the one she called when things started getting nasty with her ex, and her car broke down, and all those things that can really wear on you. Although I sometimes feel like there's not much left of me to give after just trying to make it through my own day, I'm finding that this chance to help out someone else is really giving me some perspective on my own life and making me feel strong. Plus I love watching the beauty of karma in action. How many times has my dad rescued me when my car broke down? How many times has best girl S. gotten me out of a jam (like when I found out in line at the grocery store that I didn't have my wallet with me)? So by doing my best to help K., I feel like I am giving my due, like an opportunity is being presented to me to keep the balance. And yeah, I know it's cliche, and feminism is supposedly a dirty word and all of that, but I believe this with all my heart: sisterhood is powerful.

President fucktard: "I'm a war president." 'Nuff said.

More evidence that I am old

Finally got to go shake my thang last night (and thankfully I can still shake it). But I noticed several things that have me a bit concerned.

I was yawning before I even left the house to go pick up C.

The hair styling products that I own have been in my possession at least since before the kidlet was born. Yes, I used them anyway.

We were sitting in the bar here having delicious expensive cocktails, and half of me was thinking, damn, it's smoky in here, I can barely breathe, I'm gonna get second hand lung cancer, and my eyes are stinging. The other half was saying, umm, excuse me, but it's a BAR, you dork.

After dancing, my knees hurt walking back to the car.