food for thought

A Summer Evening, in two takes

2008-05-15T18:59:00.000-07:00

As you may know, San Francisco is sweating through an unusual heat wave this week. Even here in the fog belt, the temperatures are in the 90s. I love it -- I get to wear the sun dresses I buy (against my better judgment) each year and which then hang in my closet, mocking me. Don't I know by now that I only get to wear sun dresses once or twice a year? But when the weather's like this, I revel in it: we ride bikes after dinner; we barbecue on the deck; we go out without jackets and scarves.

But much as I love the heat, I know it throws us all off. Tony doesn't really like it, the boys aren't used to it. And when it's this hot, even I can get a little crabby.

And so tonight was glorious and hot and we went out to dinner -- but, you know, family life... it's not always such smooth sailing. It was a good night with some bumps along the way, and on nights like this I wonder how we'll all remember it down the line. Here are two possibilities:

One:

I pick Ben up from t-ball, where he and his buddies sweat good-naturedly through their one hour practice, and tell him Tony and I think we'll all go out to dinner in the neighborhood tonight.

We park the car at home and get Ben's bike and Eli's trike out of the garage; the boys bike happily the several blocks to the restaurant, ringing their bells and waving to passersby.

We sit at an outside table, and the boys' food (plain pasta and roasted artichokes) comes promptly. Tony and I enjoy salads--butter lettuce with asparagus and green goddess dressing-- and pizzas (mine's topped with arugula, goat cheese, sweet peas and mint; yum!) and big glasses of cold wine.

We walk and bike home. Tony bathes the boys while I sit on the couch watching a Tivo'd episode of Nigella Lawson's cooking show.

Two:
I pick Ben up from t-ball and say we're planning to eat out. He asks first to eat at the local tacqueria (ok for take out, but I didn't want to eat there), then suggests Chinese. The Chinese place is fine, but we've gotten take out from there too often lately, and I'm not in the mood. I tell him where we're planning to go--the casual Cal-Italian bistro--and he grumbles and sulks all the way home.

As we pull into the driveway, I try to cheer him by suggesting maybe he and Eli could ride their bikes to the restaurant. He loves the idea. We go inside to get Eli and Tony, who mishears my plan and somehow within a minute I'm sniping at him about I don't know what.

We get the bikes out and head to the restaurant, a 10-minute trip that restores everyone's good mood.

At the restaurant, the waiter is harried and inattentive. He brings the boys' food promptly (big points for that), but the rest comes in slow waves, and my salad comes sprinkled with the speck (smoked ham) that I'd asked him to leave off. By the time my speck-free salad comes back, the boys are done with their pastas, and the wine still hasn't come. The pizzas arrive; Eli says "I'm done here!" and I take him out for a walk while the pizza cools a bit.

On the walk home, Ben's so busy waving and ringing his bell that he runs right into me. I yell in surprised pain, Ben starts to cry. I storm off--pushing Eli's trike harder than necessary--my foot throbbing, leaving Tony to talk to Ben. There's still a 4" tread mark on my calf.

When we arrive home, Ben apologizes and asks softly if he can ride up to the end of the block and back, "super-fast." I finally soften and say sure; he and Eli race down the sidewalk.

We all go inside, Tony takes the boys up for a cool bath. I sit on the couch and watch Nigella make a fondue.

Writing Motherhood Paperback Giveaway!

2008-05-13T19:26:00.000-07:00

Part of my wonderful Mother's Day this year involved attending a reading/writing workshop with Lisa Garrigues, with whom I've corresponded since I reviewed her book, Writing Motherhood, for MotherTalk. She was in town to celebrate the paperback release of her book, and so a friend and I drove out to the event, where everyone got a chance to write a bit, share their work if they liked, and offer feedback. Somehow within just a few minutes, under Lisa's guidance, small groups of strangers were offering thoughtful feedback on each other's work. It was a great way to spend the afternoon.

Today, when I got home from collecting Ben at school, I found the paperback in the mail, courtesy of Lisa's publisher. Now it's a beautiful book, and if I didn't already own the hardcover (now signed!) I'd keep it, too. But that just seems greedy. So, lovely readers, I'm hosting a giveaway. Leave a comment on this post by the end of the week and I will pick a winner at random.

And in case you missed my earlier review, here it is again; it still holds up--though now my copy of Lisa's book is a bit battered from use. (I've updated the final paragraph to reflect changes at Literary Mama.)

Very early on the morning of July 4th, 2001, I climbed out of bed and took a pregnancy test. As I waited for the result, I left the stick resting on the edge of the bathroom sink and sat down at my desk to write a few lines on my computer. A few minutes later, I went back and added some more thoughts, trying to absorb the fact that I was pregnant.

That was the start of my mothering journal.

I’d kept journals sporadically in the past: a small, cream- colored book my aunt gave me before a high school month in England; a cloth-bound book I bought before my junior year at Oxford University. But when I didn’t have a discrete period of time to document, I could never keep a journal going. I’d get fed up with myself for using it as a dumping ground for my complaints about adolescent life, or I’d get hung up with worry about someone finding it.

But this time was different. I’d just started a new job, I was pregnant, Tony and I bought a house: my life was changing fast, changing permanently, and I wanted to keep track of my thoughts.

That January, my computer crashed and took my journal with it. I lost teaching notes, syllabi, years’ worth of emails, but it was the journal’s loss that made me cry. It took me a few days to regain perspective (I hadn’t lost the baby, I kept having to remind myself, only the writing about the baby), but when I did, I took myself to a good art supply store and bought a nice journal with lined pages and an elastic strap to keep it closed.

And now I have a neat pile of six on the bottom shelf of my bedside table, with the current one, a pen in the middle holding my place, on the top shelf next to my lip balm, the current New Yorker, and a water glass.

I’ve kept it going.

The problem, though, was that before long the journal was not enough. I’d start something, jot down a funny thing Ben did or make an observation about my new life, and then it would sit there, undeveloped. I didn’t have any compelling reason to develop my thoughts into an essay. And after years of steady writing in graduate school, culminating in a nearly 300-page dissertation, I didn’t really even know how to write an essay about myself. I cast about for a year or so, writing unfinished essays during Ben's naps, not knowing what to do with them. Eventually I lucked into a writing group and from there landed a position at Literary Mama and, between the gentle pressure of my monthly turn to present at writing group and the inspiration of the essays I edit, I found my way to a regular writing gig, a book, and a new life as a writer.

But it all would have been much simpler if I'd had Lisa Garrigues book, Writing Motherhood, back then.

I confess, I haven’t read any other writing books, so I have nothing to compare this to. Well, that’s not even quite right; I haven’t finished any other writing books. I’ve poked around Bird by Bird (and found it quite useful when I do), read a few lines of Writing Down the Bones, but I’ve always gotten a little impatient with the books, always had a moment when I realized, “Wait... no one’s asking me for snack, no one needs a dry diaper, I should be writing!” and put them down. So one of the things I like most about Garrigues’ book is that she invites you to do just that. It is not a book to read cover to cover (although I did, for this review, and it holds up perfectly well to that sustained attention), but one to pick up and read for twenty minutes when you have an hour free, or five minutes when you have ten: pick it up, find your inspiration, put the book down, and write. Because just as no one learns to parent by reading parenting books, no one learns to write without writing.

I like the bold orange cover of this book, which won’t get lost on my desk; that bright flash will always peek out from under the messy pile of drafts, bills, and Ben’s latest train drawings, and remind me to write. I like her tone, which is encouraging and friendly throughout; she leaves behind any kind of authoritative teacher voice and comes across as a woman you’d happily share a coffee with. Garrigues calls her writing prompts “invitations,” another subtle way that she manages to lighten up the task of setting down to write. And I like that she gives you lots and lots of good stuff to read, because the most important work in becoming a writer, after writing, is, of course, reading. Garrigues gives you her own short essays (on topics ranging from copying other writers, to marriage, to mama playdates); some of the little essays are hardly about writing at all, but about mothering, and then as she comes to the end and crystallizes the feeling that she’s expressed in the essay, she neatly raises a question for your own writing. She provides sample “mother’s pages” (essays written by her students), and she offers loads of great quotations from other writers. She also offers concrete advice on everything from buying a writer’s notebook to setting up a productive workspace. I have both of those things, but I still picked up a couple good ideas from her. She closes the book with an entire section on moving from new writer to a writer seeking connection and publication, with ideas on setting up and maintaining writing groups and taking one’s writing public. And then, in case there weren’t already enough ideas to keep you going in the text of the book, she offers a list of 99 writing starts and a bibliography.

I am keeping this review short because, inspired by Garrigues book, I want to get back to my writing! But I want to leave you with a couple quotations. The first, from Annie Dillard, resonated with me right now as I struggle to clear space in my days to write:

How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing. A schedule defends from chaos and whim. It is a net for catching days.

And now here’s Garrigues:

This book is, in part, a story of growing up and into a role I claimed for myself.

Is she talking about mothering or writing?! The point, as she claims throughout the book, is that the two are not mutually exclusive but complimentary roles that feed and develop each other. We should take advantage of that fact, and make time to write our lives.

Garrigues teaches writing classes, and those of you in the NY/NJ area should check them out. For anyone looking for on-line writing classes, I highly recommend Susan Ito's parent lit workshop (which I have taken) and the poetry workshops led by Violeta Garcia-Mendoza (an editor at LiteraryMama). Literary Mama is now offering monthly writing prompts, with personal feedback from the Literary Reflections editorial staff, as well as listings of workshops and other resources for writers. So get writing!

A Short Story

2008-05-12T20:26:00.000-07:00

Eli made up his very first story today (and then repeated it all through lunch, chomping his carrot at the end for emphasis):

"Once upon a time there was a rock in the water, and a dragon came to eat it. The end."

A Good Day

2008-05-11T14:38:00.000-07:00

#1: Sleeping in (yes, there was the 1-3 AM visit from Ben and the 6:00 AM visit from Eli, but I remained horizontal)

#2: Breakfast in bed--including freshly-baked scones from Tony-- with the Sunday Times

#3: A gift of new lip stuff and chocolate

#4: A mama-centric special at Ben and Eli's cafe (see photo above) and a most excellent mother's day banner (if you look closely, you'll see the letters are all train cars)

#5: A workshop/reading by the wonderful Lisa Garrigues, attended with a new mama-writer friend of mine

#6: Dinner at one of my favorite pizza places, with my three favorite guys.

I hope all you mamas out there had equally lovely days!

New at Literary Mama...

2008-05-08T16:26:00.001-07:00

My latest movie column, on Autism: The Musical, is up now, and I urge you -- even if you think the movie has nothing to do with you -- to take a look. It's a terrific and eye-opening film. Here's a blurb from my column:

Elaine, Hillary, Roseanne and Dianne are some of the mothers of autistic children we meet in the stunning new documentary, Autism: The Musical (Tricia Regan, 2007). Elaine brings them together at The Miracle Project, a theater and movement program she has founded to help her son Neal and other autistic kids learn to communicate their feelings and to control their impulses, but most of all, "to have a great time, [to] feel great."

Also, check out "A Vinyl Batgirl Notebook" by Mama, PhD contributor Jessica Smartt Gullion; the essay offers a funny glimpse into the daily balancing act of being a writer and a mother (I don't know a thing about that). Here's a blurb:

"The kids are fighting again: 'She keeps goin' in my room!' 'He hitted me!' 'She push-ted me first!' 'Mama!' 'Mama!' I wipe a Clorox-coated rag across the blue paint-splattered pattern of my kitchen counters and wonder for the thousandth time what kind of person would choose this design."

Mama, PhD at InsideHigherEd!

2008-05-04T15:42:00.000-07:00

I am thrilled to announce that InsideHigherEd is launching a new Mama PhD blog, and seven of the book's contributors — Libby Gruner, Megan Kajitani, Susan Bassow, Dana Campbell, Liz Stockwell, Anjalee Nadkarni and Della Fenster — will be blogging regularly there. This is a tremendous opportunity to bring the discussion of academic work/ family life balance issues out of the book, into the blogosphere and from there into classrooms and campus administrative offices.

Please check out the blog, leave your comments, and send questions to Megan (for now, via info@insidehighered.com; the blog will soon list a more direct address) who will be writing a weekly advice column. And then please spread the word! Tell your friends, add the link to your blogroll, and help us build an audience for these fabulous bloggers.

6 Things

2008-05-02T12:41:00.001-07:00

Libby tagged me for this meme, and while it's not required to have any thematic focus, I found an entry forming in my head as I went about the morning. First, though, the rules:

Here are the meme rules:
1. link to the person who tagged you
2. post the rules
3. write six things about yourself
4. tag six people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.
5. Let them know they've been tagged by leaving a comment on their sites.
6. Let your tagger know when your entry is up.

Now on to the meme, which covers what's on my mind today:

Six things I am grateful for today, while Ben is home sick from school (the annual Track Day at Kezar Stadium) with a fever and stomach bug:

1. NASA tv

2. apple juice

3. a patient little brother, happy to hang on the couch with his feverish brother (the bug started with him, so I didn't mind their cuddling)

4. Tony running to the track meet to record "Feel better!" videos from Ben's classmates (we've watched it twice and it still cracks him up)

5. laptop computer and a wireless internet connection

6. children's tylenol

Finally, I tag Mama(e) in translation, Multi-Culti Mami, Marmee's Corner, Fertile Ground, Having Enough and LoveBug and Rolley Polley.

Speaking of Music...

2008-05-02T08:54:00.001-07:00

If you happen to be in San Francisco Saturday night, check out this rare local appearance by Sharmila Roy Pommot, a well-known singer of Bengali music who has sung on the soundtrack of Satyajit Ray films, worked with Peter Gabriel, been sampled by underground house musicians, and happens to be the aunt of a friend of mine.

The concert is at the Cultural Integration Fellowship, 2650 Fulton Street at 3rd Avenue. Contact chumi@comcast.net for more info.

MotherTalk Blog Tour: That Baby CD/DVD

2008-04-30T20:05:00.000-07:00

Edited to add:
If you're interested in ordering That Baby DVD, or That Baby CD, or the set, enter the coupon code "MotherTalk" when purchasing from the website, and save 20% on your entire order! Also, from now until May 18th, all orders using the coupon code "MotherTalk" will be entered in a drawing to win a new iPod nano.

I grew up listening to my parents' music: Judy Collins, The Kingston Trio, Pete Seeger and Joan Baez recordings, augmented by occasional trips into Manhattan for afternoon symphony rehearsals. "Kid's music" as we think of it now, didn't really exist, though everything my parents played, of course, was perfect kid's music: clear lyrics (focusing often on peace and social justice); beautiful melodies. And my tastes now run usually (though not exclusively) toward the unplugged and the solo vocal or small group over the bigger, more raucous sound of a band.

When Ben was born, we didn't run out and start buying kids music. I played him the Indigo Girls, Tony played him hip-hop. We were doing just fine (and Ben was learning about many different kinds of stringed instruments, plus keeping the beat very well) but inevitably kids' music started making its way in the door: Dan Zanes, Ralph Covert. We signed Ben up for a music class with a local former indie rocker, Chris Molla, where he banged a tambourine and learned great old folk songs.

I didn't realize how lucky we'd been with the music Ben, and then Eli, were listening to until recently, when we were given an "educational" CD called Color Train. I'm not linking to it because it's simply too terrible: over-engineered synthesizers and a chirpy vocal, with inane lyrics like "Where oh where did the dinosaurs go? I guess we'll never know!" which make Tony and Ben yell at the CD: "We do! We do know! We know because of science!"

I disappeared the CD as quickly as I could and we went running back to our beloved staples.

After the Color Train debacle, I didn't expect much from the That Baby CD and DVD, but I signed up for the MotherTalk blog tour because something in the description of the CD and its producers made me think it might be ok. It's a Mom and Pop outfit, literally. Rob and Lisi Wolf aren't a committee of teachers and child development specialists who have compromised their way to 41 minutes of age-appropriate pablum. They sound kind of like me (parents who think having kids shouldn't mean turning the stereo off for 10 years), and their musical tastes are right in line with mine. The track list for That Baby CD showcases the groups that created the soundtrack of my high school years: Joni Mitchell, Fleetwood Mac, 10,000 Maniacs, Paul Simon, Bruce Springsteen and more.

But still, I was skeptical. If the music's that good, why not play your kids the originals, rather than acoustic covers? Well, we very well could, but the fact is we don't. The CD is like a mix tape made by a good friend, someone who knows your taste well enough to put some of your favorite songs onto a recording, plus some great unfamiliar stuff. So, in fact, while I love Bruce Springsteen, the Springsteen song on this CD, Pony Boy, is new to me, and the cover (by Jaycob Van Auken, a Lyle Lovett-sound alike) is gorgeous (the accompanying video is one of my favorites, too). Stephanie Schneiderman is a terrific discovery for me, as well; I think she's brave to take on Joni Mitchell's Circle Game, but she brings something beautifully new to the song. Her cover of Peter, Paul and Mary's Garden Song is a beauty, as is her take on Paul Simon's St. Judy's Comet (honestly, I like her voice so much, I'm going to buy her solo CDs).

The CD is now firmly established in our car music rotation; the accompanying DVD is terrific (except, I have to say, for the kids lip syncing to Brass Pocket, which we all find a little disconcerting!) Although we don't watch a ton of tv around here, and when we do, it is hard for the boys (or any of us, really) to shake the family Oswald habit, they have started to request repeat viewings of the That Baby DVD, and I am happy to oblige. The That Baby CD and DVD make a great addition to any family's music repertoire.

Calling all Mama Writers!

2008-04-29T08:39:00.000-07:00

Literary Mama's Literary Reflections department is seeking personal essays about writing as a mother, reading as a mother, or developing a career as a professional mother-writer. If any of you have such an essay in your portfolio or an idea brewing along these lines, we welcome your participation. Also, pass along this call to any other writers/mothers who may have an interest in submitting to LM.

Click here for the complete submissions guidelines.

The First Sleepover

2008-04-27T15:47:00.001-07:00

We've been talking about this for so long, imagining Napa Valley hotels and sumptuous dinners out. But whenever we made a plan, somebody's kid got sick and we had to cancel at the last minute.

So it's a wonder we didn't try it this way before, because this is what worked:

A play date plan with a family we've known since Ben was a baby (their son is one of his best friends; their younger daughter has sweetly claimed Eli as her own) -- both families together for the afternoon and dinner.

A casual, "And if Ben wants to sleep over..." When I mentioned it to Ben, he said no, but Eli said, "I want to sleep over!" So Ben changed his mind (no matter that Eli followed quickly with, "What's a sleepover?") We stuffed their pillow cases with bed guys, pjs, clean play clothes and the travel kit with their toothbrushes and flossers and headed across the bridge to their house.

We played all afternoon, ate dinner, got the kids all into pjs and set up Ben and Eli's cozy nests on the floor next to their friends' beds. There was no longer space to walk in the room, but no matter. Eli alternated between "I'm so excited!" and a puzzled "Why not Mama gonna stay?" But we encouraged the excitement, pointed out all the unfamiliar train books, and kissed them both goodbye. When we left, the dad was sitting on the floor with all four kids, the mom snapping pictures from the doorway, all of us excited at the possibilities in this new chapter in their friendships (remember the hotels, the sumptuous dinners?)

We didn't want to head back across the bay until we knew our guys were sleeping, and we'd missed all the 7 pm movie starts, but downtown Berkeley is not a bad place to spend a warm Saturday evening, especially when a new branch of a favorite bookstore has just opened. We browsed and read and then checked in after about an hour: the kids had been excited and pretty raucous, and they weren't yet sleeping, but everyone was quiet. We headed home.

The first best part of the sleep over was waking up this morning at 6 AM and rolling back over to sleep. The second best part was waking again at 7 and reading in bed for two hours.

And the last best part was when we collected the kids, after we got our big reunion hugs, after Eli asked me again (not upset, still just a little unclear on the concept) "Why Mama not stay?" watching Eli hold up his arms to give our friend--his friends' mom-- a great, big, arms-tight-around-her-neck hug.

So now I'm checking the calendar to see how soon we can reciprocate, and how soon we can get our boys to their house again!

A Plumm Summer

2008-04-23T19:37:00.001-07:00

What do you think of when you think "family film?" For me, it's the Herbie the Love Bug movies that my parents took us to in the early 70s. I confess I don't remember a thing about the plot of these flicks, but I remember a late summer evening's drive to a movie theater, all six of us piled into the car, and I remember being happy. When I was a little older, we all saw Star Wars together in Ogunquit, Maine; it was the opening weekend, and the six of us couldn't all sit together (as I recall, my brothers sat on the stage directly in front of the screen, their heads tipped back to watch). I was more into the experience -- the crowd, the excitement -- than the story on the screen. And we all saw Airplane together, too (why, I wonder?), when I was old enough to be embarrassed to be seen at the movies with my parents.

We watched movies together at home more often. I loved staying home from school when I was little (before my mom returned to work) because we'd watch Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movies together. We watched James Bond movies, which when I think back on it were entirely inappropriate -- but probably most of the R content was over my head, anyway. We watched nutty 40s capers, like Kind Hearts and Coronets. We watched Spencer Tracy/Katherine Hepburn movies. And of course we watched The Wizard of Oz and The Sound of Music every year on television, too.

Of course when I was a kid, I didn't think much about the difficulty of "family movies." We watched movies together. With four kids 8 years apart, probably one of us was always a little bored and someone else probably didn't entirely get it, but no one complained because it was still nice to all be doing the same thing. Well, I should amend that: I didn't complain, because as the youngest, I was always just grateful when my older siblings were doing something with me! That's more accurate.

It's a little easier with my guys today. The "family movie" options are greater, and the boys are close enough in age that they can watch the same things, so we've watched The Sound of Music together (once in the ER) -- a good family film despite (for now; someday because of) the Nazi plot (they don't ask about the war themes , and I don't volunteer.) We've watched Toy Story a lot, which is probably the household favorite right now; we've watched Enchanted once. But even most of these films have elements the boys don't get, or I don't want them to get. It's hard to get a family movie right for everyone in the family.

A Plumm Summer is a new family movie opening this weekend, and MotherTalk and Mom Central are trying to spread the word. I'm all in favor of helping out a little independent film, and this one's got a great cast (Henry Winkler and Peter Scolari were my favorites) with a sweetly nostalgic voice-over by Jeff Daniels. The film's set in 1968, and based on the true story of what happened in a small Montana town when the beloved Froggy Doo, a "Superstar puppet," in David Brinkley's words, was stolen. It's a story of brothers, which of course interests me a lot these days, and about how their parents are managing their difficult path from sweethearts to partners. It's got a bit of Scooby Doo feel to it, as the kids run circles around the FBI trying to solve the mystery of who stole Froggy Doo. Some of the themes and scenes are too heavy for my boys, but I'll save it till they're older. If you have kids in the 8-12 range, it might well make a good family outing for you.

New Columns at Literary Mama

2008-04-20T22:14:00.000-07:00

Two of my favorite columnists have new pieces up at Literary Mama!

First, Libby Gruner's Children's Lit Book Group feels a rare twinge of nostalgia as she contemplates sending her daughter off to college:

"Three of my favorite read-alouds are Beatrix Potter's The Tale of Peter Rabbit, Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are, and Ezra Jack Keats's The Snowy Day. These three wouldn't seem to tell me much about a child going off to college, and indeed they don't. But they do tell about the power of the imagination, the appeal of the unknown, and the comforts of home, in ways I'm finding helpful right now."

And in Me and My House, Elrena Evans is way too tired for nostalgia:

"As a Christian mother I sometimes feel like I can't turn around without stubbing my toe on the God-as-parent metaphor, hand in hand with its twin, you-are-your-child's-first-image-of-God. I love the idea of being God's image for her, being his hands and feet on this earth, and I want more than anything to show that kind of love to my daughter. But it's hard, at 3:07 a.m."

Yum, Yum

2008-04-18T14:43:00.000-07:00

When Eli outgrew his crib, we moved him into a big-boy bed in a now shared room with Ben and I--for the first time in my life--got an office. One small room with a desk and, well, yes, a pull-out couch because it's our guest room, too. But mostly it is my office, with a tall bookshelf stacked with my old grad student books (the ones I wasn't so sick of that I sold back), and my favorite novels, and tons of anthologies, and one little picture book about food that never made it down to the kitchen, where it belongs. It's a collection of Andy Warhol's comments about food, illustrated with his drawings, and now everyday after his nap, Eli comes bombing down the hall with his blanket and his bear and his bunny and his two doggies and his ball (because ever since our trip east last month he is a dog, he says, who needs to sleep with a ball), and he pulls the book off the shelf and says, "Mama, let's read Yum Yum!" So we do.

Some of the lines are profound:
"Progress is very important and exciting in everything except food."

And some of them are not so profound:
"Tab is Tab, and no matter how rich you are, you can't get a better one."

Some are sweet truisms:
"It's nice to have a little breakfast made for you."

And some make excellent points:
"When you want an orange, you don't want someone asking you, 'An orange what?'"

This is my favorite line:
"I love the way the smell of each fruit gets into the rough wood of the crates and into the tissue-paper wrappings."

And this is Eli's:
My only regret was that I didn't have an ice cream scoop in my pocket.

I don't remember how the book came to us, but I'm glad we have it. As Eli says, "I'm great fond of this book!"

Mama at the Movies: Enchanted

2008-04-13T14:34:00.000-07:00

This month, in search of something light, I decided to watch a fairy tale with my boys:

"Mama, what's a magical kingdom? Why is the queen evil? Why will she lose her power if her stepson gets married? What's true love's kiss?" We were barely through the opening credits of Enchanted (Kevin Lima, 2007) and I had to pause for a quick fairy tale run-down. Of course, neither of my boys has any problem with some of the common elements of the filmed fairy tale, the richly animated world in which animals talk and plants participate in human life, and they are beginning to hear stories with good guys and bad guys. But the particular spin of a fairy tale, in which children are generally motherless, struggling to protect themselves against a new family member (the evil stepmother) was new to them, and troubling.

Read the rest over at Literary Mama. And while you're there, check out the other new columns, new fiction, creative nonfiction, and a great reading list to take to your local bookstore!

Some Nice PR

2008-04-11T19:14:00.000-07:00

Check out the write-up of Mama, PhD in the latest issue of eGrad, a newsletter for Berkeley graduate students:

Up on the web — it’s a site, it’s a blog, it’s a book!
Mainly, at the moment, it’s (almost) a book. It just happens to have the regulation 21st–century promotional bells and whistles, so it’s an instant community, and not a tiny one at that.

Read the rest of the article here. We're hoping to do some readings and campus talks at Berkeley next fall, so stayed tuned!

Train Heaven

2008-04-09T19:24:00.000-07:00

Amtrak + California State Railroad Museum = two happy boys.

Ben: "I almost forgot that after the train ride, there's still the whole train museum!"

Eli: "I love this train. I want to stay on this train forever."

Spring Break: Plan C

2008-04-07T19:55:00.000-07:00

Plan A: 5-day road trip to visit cousins in Santa Barbara and Long Beach. The kids play, the adults talk books and art, we all curtsy to the Queen Mary and enjoy the warm weather. Canceled due to illness.

Plan B: Ride Amtrak for a day trip to the California State Railroad Museum in Sacramento. The kids play, the adults enjoy the scenic train ride, we all enjoy the warm weather. But, we get to the train station bright and early, our bags packed with camera, picnic and coloring books, only to discover that the trains aren't running due to an accident on the line.

Plan C: It's 9 AM Monday morning, a day when most of the Bay Area kids' museums are closed (why, why all on the same day?), all our Berkeley friends had spring break last week so they're in school, and it's a little too early and too chilly to go to a playground.

But we're near Berkeley, and I spent long enough there to know a couple things to do. So, we visit the T-Rex in the Berkeley Paleontology Museum; we go to the Campanile, hoping to ride to the top (but it's closed on Mondays, natch) and then we go to the Lawrence Hall of Science, where there's an exhibit involving build-your-own Lego race cars (did they know we were coming?)

After a picnic lunch, we call an old friend from the city who's moved to Berkeley. School's out for the day and the family is free! The big kids make scenery and rehearse scenes from The Magic Flute (somehow, both of their kindergarten classes have recently learned the story) and the littler kids play trains. The moms catch up and drink tea. After a couple hours, we're treated to a short and well-rehearsed performance of excerpts from The Magic Flute. We head out for Chinese food, follow it up with some gelato, and finally head home after the evening rush hour's over.

Thank goodness for Plan C.

Strawberry-Rhubarb Spoonbread for Spring

2008-04-06T20:46:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure I'd make this again -- somehow it used every mixing bowl in the cupboard -- but it tasted great, and looks beautiful. I think next time I'll just make the compote to serve on biscuits or with cookies.

Here's the recipe, as published originally in the San Francisco Chronicle:

Serves 8

The compote
* 1 pound rhubarb, cut into 1-inch chunks
* 2/3 cup sugar, or more to taste
* 1 pound strawberries, hulled, cut in half and sliced
* -- Lemon juice, to taste

The spoonbread
* 2 cups diced strawberries (from about 3/4 pound fruit)
* 1/2 cup sugar
* 3 cups milk
* 1 1/2 cups cornmeal
* 6 tablespoons butter, softened
* 6 eggs, separated
* 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
* 1 teaspoon kosher salt
* -- Whipped cream for serving

For the compote: In a medium saucepan over medium-low heat, cook rhubarb with 1/3 cup sugar, stirring occasionally, until fruit is softened, about 25 minutes. Meanwhile, toss the strawberries with the remaining 1/3 cup sugar and set aside to macerate while the rhubarb is cooking. When the rhubarb is done, combine with the strawberries, and add lemon juice to taste.

For the spoonbread: Preheat oven to 375°. Generously butter a large oval souffle dish or 13-by-9-inch baking dish.

Toss the strawberries with 1/4 cup of the sugar, and set aside to macerate.

In a medium saucepan over medium heat, scald the milk until it is just about to boil. Whisk in the remaining 1/4 cup sugar and cornmeal in a steady stream, and continue to whisk constantly until the mixture is smooth and thickened, about 2 minutes.

Remove from heat and transfer to a large bowl. Mix in butter while the cornmeal mixture is still warm. Set aside and cool to room temperature.

Beat egg yolks lightly and whisk into the cornmeal mixture along with the baking powder, salt. Combine well. Fold in the strawberries and their juice.

In a clean bowl of a stand mixer, whip egg whites until stiff peaks form. Fold in a quarter of the egg whites to lighten the batter, then fold in the remainder. Spoon into prepared dish and bake until golden and puffy, about 40-45 minutes.

Serve with the compote and whipped cream.

Per serving: 435 calories, 11 g protein, 63 g carbohydrate, 16 g fat (9 g saturated), 195 mg cholesterol, 407 mg sodium, 5 g fiber.

Pay It Forward Book Exchange

2008-04-05T10:56:00.000-07:00

JP Mom won this week's give-away, but here's another for all of you. I confess I haven't read either of these books, but they look like good curl up on the couch with a cup of tea kind of novels...

This week's books:
The Friday Night Knitting Club, by Kate Jacobs and Shopaholic & Baby, by Sophie Kinsella

Leave me a comment saying you want to enter by the end of the day Tuesday, April 8th and I'll announce a winner next week.

The fine print, as devised by Overwhelmed with Joy:

"1) Once a month (or so) I'll pick a book to give away to one lucky reader (you don’t have to have a blog to enter). It may be a book that I’ve purchased new or used, or it may be a book that someone has shared with me that I really like. It’ll probably be a paperback, just to make things easier, but no guarantees.

2) Details on how you can enter to win will be listed below.

3) If you’re the lucky winner of the book giveaway I ask that you, in turn, host a drawing to give that book away for free to one of your readers, after you’ve had a chance to read it (let’s say, within a month after you’ve received the book), or donate it to your local library or shelter. If you mail the book out using the media/book rate that the post office offers it’s pretty inexpensive.

4) If you’re really motivated and want to host your own “Pay It Forward” giveaway at any time, feel free to grab the button above to use on your own blog. Just let her know so she can publish a post plugging your giveaway and directing readers your way!

So there you have it, the Pay It Forward Book Exchange, designed to encourage people to read, to share good books, to possibly get you out of your reading comfort zone, and to get fun stuff in the mail instead of just bills!"

Sick Day

2008-04-03T19:33:00.000-07:00

Not so bad that anyone had to stay in bed but feeling too crummy to leave the house, we cooked and played Lego and cooked some more and played airplanes. Not too bad, really.

Pay It Forward Book Exchange

2008-04-01T15:36:00.001-07:00

It's been a while, and the pile of books on my desk threatens to tumble over and crush me, so I'm giving away two books this week; look for another give away soon!

This week's books:
Mothers Need Time-Outs, Too by Susan Callahan, Anne Nolen and Katrin Schumann
I didn't read this one -- it arrived in the mail last week, I don't know why. I don't need to spend my time off reading about taking time off, but maybe you know someone who does?

I Married My Mother-in-Law and other tales of in-laws we can't live with -- and can't live without, edited by Ilena Silverman, with essays by Michael Chabon, Ayelet Waldman, Kathryn Harrison and others. There are some nice pieces in here, and it's not all in-law bashing. And who doesn't love an anthology, really? Not me.

Leave me a comment saying you want to enter by the end of the day Friday, April 4th and I'll announce a winner next week.

The fine print, as devised by Overwhelmed with Joy:

"1) Once a month (or so) I'll pick a book to give away to one lucky reader (you don’t have to have a blog to enter). It may be a book that I’ve purchased new or used, or it may be a book that someone has shared with me that I really like. It’ll probably be a paperback, just to make things easier, but no guarantees.

2) Details on how you can enter to win will be listed below.

3) If you’re the lucky winner of the book giveaway I ask that you, in turn, host a drawing to give that book away for free to one of your readers, after you’ve had a chance to read it (let’s say, within a month after you’ve received the book), or donate it to your local library or shelter. If you mail the book out using the media/book rate that the post office offers it’s pretty inexpensive.

4) If you’re really motivated and want to host your own “Pay It Forward” giveaway at any time, feel free to grab the button above to use on your own blog. Just let her know so she can publish a post plugging your giveaway and directing readers your way!

So there you have it, the Pay It Forward Book Exchange, designed to encourage people to read, to share good books, to possibly get you out of your reading comfort zone, and to get fun stuff in the mail instead of just bills!"

Re-entry

2008-03-27T10:00:00.000-07:00

When astronauts come back to earth, they spend a period of time in limbo, back on earth but not yet quite home. They get their muscles back in earth shape, and the doctors make sure they're ok. I like to think it's a little bit relaxing for them, this in-between time, but realistically, it's probably about as relaxing as being a hospital patient. After that time in their space capsule, working through a busy schedule of experiments and projects, they're probably longing for some real downtime, hanging out with their families and friends, eating real food and watching tv. I imagine the re-entry limbo must drive their families a little bit crazy, to have their mom or dad or husband or wife back, but still out of reach.

Re-entry has been a mushy kind of limbo for me this week, which is why it's taken me so many days to write about our visit. I don't have much to add to Elrena and Libby's posts about it; they cover most of the highlights (the food! the Mama, PhD conversations! and more food!) Of course neither of them could write with detail about Eli's ER visit, but neither can I -- all three of us missed it, busy with the Mama, PhD round table. But Mariah knew how to get Tony and the boys to the ER, and when I got home, Eli came jumping down the hall to show me his hospital bracelet. "Stitches on my head!?" he exclaimed, "That's crazy!" You said it, buddy.

We went to the Air & Space Museum the last day of our trip and wandered around marveling at the planes and space capsules hung from the ceiling. We looked closely at the Spirit of St Louis, which is fabric-covered, and carried Lindbergh across the ocean even though it has no front window. Eli climbed into the cockpit of a Cessna, which was roomy for him, and we all squeezed into SkyLab. I cannot imagine climbing into one of these vehicles if it weren't safely bolted to the museum floor, but Ben and Eli are at that explorer age, and the prospect of zooming suddenly off into space, like the boy in their beloved Planetron book, or Jimmy Zangwow, delights them. I like that in both stories, the boys are home in time for dinner.

Now we are home, and the boys have each built and rebuilt their new Air & Space Museum lego sets many times (space shuttle for Ben, airbus for Eli). We continue to read Planetron every night before bed, and have just started another boy-in-space book: Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator. Ben has suggested a Virginia field trip to his kindergarten teacher ("It's a pretty long trip," he conceded); meanwhile, Eli has announced that he is a dog, and so sleeps with a ball (as well as with his patch blanket, his bear, his two doggies and his bunny). Life is returning to its normal orbit, quirky though it may be.

Travel Day

2008-03-21T18:48:00.000-07:00

Easy travels don't make good stories, but I think I will take a painless plane trip over good material any day. The trip did net one good picture: this is Eli asleep in the car on the drive from Dulles to Libby's house. (Before anyone calls Child Protective Services on me, the blanket--his beloved patch blanket--was looser than it looks and I could hear him breathing.)

We made it from San Francisco to Virginia in under 12 hours door-to-door, which is one measure of a good trip. We made it without running out of snacks or needing any changes of clothes, which is another measure of success. I won't write any more because we have to do this in reverse on Wednesday and I don't want to jinx myself.

So now we are here, and the boys have eaten 3 bowls a piece of their beloved honey O's, a cereal they only get at their aunt's house, Eli has made friends with Anna the cat, and Ben has smashed his previous speed record on the go-cart. We've dyed some Easter eggs, I made a chocolate cake, and my niece heard today that she got into college! Life is good.

Happy Easter!

Mama at the Movies: 4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days

2008-03-15T20:06:00.001-07:00

This month's movie is no feel-good date night escape, but it is one of most moving and intelligent films I've seen in ages. Here's an excerpt from my new column:

Washing my hands in the theater bathroom after watching the new film 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days (Cristian Mungiu, 2007), I noticed I have a lot of gray hair. Maybe I should be grateful that the dim lighting in my house has been keeping this revelation from me. Somehow without my noticing, the blonde that has always lightened the brown has gone several shades lighter. The movie made me realize another subtle way that I've aged: it used to be, I'd watch a movie like this, about two women in their twenties, and identify with them. Now I wonder what I'd do if I were their mom.

4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days is set in Romania, 1987, and follows a pair of friends over the course of a single day. It opens in their dorm room as they're preparing for a trip; they don't seem happy about it, but it's easy at first to chalk their mood up to their living conditions: the dingy and crowded room; the talk of using Palmolive for shampoo; the hunt for cigarettes in black market shops operated out of other dorm rooms, where the girls can buy half-packets of birth control pills and nail polish, too. Gabriela frets about whether to bring her notes so that she can study while they're away; Otilia tells her brusquely that there'll be no time. Gabriela complains of a toothache, moans that her stomach feels weird; Otilia, tense and losing patience with her friend's fretful inactivity, snaps at her. She goes over the plan for Gabriela: the money, the possibility of bribes, the meeting place, and it gradually becomes clear that the pair isn't going on vacation, but arranging an abortion for Gabriela.

Click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest.