I'm petitioning automakers

I'm petitioning them to include privacy glass standard in all vehicles marketed to people of child-bearing age. You know, that glorious shard of heaven that limosines have, that with a touch of a button, the driver is enveloped in it's own silence. Yep, those. What I would do for my SUV to be equipped with such a magnificent luxury.

I have this dream often. I'm happily driving along, able to concentrate on the road, with nothing but my seat warmer keeping me company. No Wiggles, Backyardigans, or Kids Bop 79493875 playing the background. No fussy babies crying because they still are backwards because they haven't reached 20 lbs, or that they dropped their sippy cup for the 95th time this car ride. No child whining that his sister is looking at him, or asking why the light is red, or why this or that is the way that it is. I could actually be in SILENCE. I could actually be able to HEAR if an ambulance was plowing down the road, or if a police car was chasing me because I lost track of how fast I was going as I tried not to scream that no, we were NOT stopping at McDonald's for a Happy Meal. Better yet, if we DID stop, I wouldn't have to position the bag of food so that my son wouldn't see me pilfering all of the fries. You know, because they don't count if you didn't order them with your own meal.

Why do limo drivers get all the perks? They get paid AND they get to drive in peace? How is that even remotely fair?!?!

So I believe, starting with the 2011 models, ALL minivans, SUVs, and "family" sedans should come standard with privacy glass. With the touch of a button, I should be allowed to chaffeur my family around without having to listen to all the whining and complaining. If people think it's dangerous to text or talk on the phone while driving, they should trying manuvering traffic while explaining to a screaming child that evolution has not yet made a human's arm long enough to reach a Matchbox car under the passenger seat.

Wordless Wednesday

Flashback Friday

Wordless Wednesday

Sadie's 1st year

Sadie's scrapbook from her party. Obviously it looks better in person, but you get the idea.

All you ever wanted

..........to know about me.

My amazing friend Miranda at Hoping and Wishing has awarded me the "Honest Scrap" award.


So here are 10 things that you can say you now know about me:


1. I hate dirty socks. NO, seriously, I HATE THEM. I even have trouble touching my own. It makes me physically nauseous if I have to turn them right side out to put them in the washer. A strange and inexplicable phenomenon indeed.

2. I actually miss dissecting the brains of fetal/post-natal mice. Ben found a P1 mouse on our front sidewalk awhile back, and I had to restrain myself from getting out my manicure scissors and dissecting the pons. Good times.

3. I am a HUGE proponent of everything natural when it comes to my kids. This means natural childbirth with a doula and midwife (I would have loved nothing more than to have a homebirth), breastfeeding, co-sleeping, baby wearing, cloth diapers, etc, etc...........

4. My dad died of cancer when I was 7 (he was 34). He had very rare cancer of the synovial fluid, his leg was amputated, but it had already spread to his lungs.

5. I still get annoyed when people comment on my height/weight and think they're funny. Really now, maybe that was the "cool" thing to do when we were all 10, but when you're 30 or 40, you really should aspire to a slightly higher level of intellectual conversation........ I'm still cool with the 3 apples tall reference though. ;-)

6. My daughter was born still inside the amniotic sac. Coolest.Thing.Ever.

7. I used to perform in a ballet company and can stand on my big toes barefoot....JUST my big toes.

8. I'm addicted to collecting all the diecast cars from the movie Cars. You know, for Ben.

9. I graduated college with 154 credits. In 4 years. Because I'm a dork.

10. I don't like when people touch my hands. Even the thought of getting a manicure makes me hyperventilate.

Now, since I'm not one of those "cool" bloggers with tons of people hanging on her every word, I have no clue who I can pass this on to. BUT, if you happen to read this and have a blog, be sure to pass on some facts about yourself to the interwebz for me.

Do it like they do on the AMC channel.

I've spent my entire adult life at war with gender stereotypes. I even have a BS/MS in Molecular Biology/Biotechnology (minor in Biochemistry) to support my desire to prove to the world that anyone can do anything, even (gasp) a 4'11" 90 lb woman. From the beginning of time, woman have been fighting for equality in every aspect of life. Now, in 2010, I think we're pretty damn near close. Of course, until men can carry a growing human in a uterus for 9+ months, I'd say we've finally come out on top. Deep down, in the pit of my stomach, and behind all those wheels turning in my head, I've fought tooth and nail to NOT be a stereotypical woman. I'm stubborn. Really,............REALLY stubborn. There's nothing wrong with doing all those stereotypical "feminine" things in life. Seriously, someone has to. And when it comes down to it, who really does it better/correct, right? But I fight my own personal demons when I do them, because I feel like the second I succumb to all those "menial" tasks that society gives NO acknowledgement for, that I've somehow disappointed all the woman before me that had no choice. I feel that actually wanting to do all of those things, somehow makes me less of the woman that I thought I was. Yeah, you get me, I know you do.............. So I look at my house, and my kids, and my new found LOVE for creating and designing things with a sewing machine, and think, DAMN do I actually LIKE this stuff? WHHHHAAAAATTTT?!?! But I'm not supposed to right? I mean, I'm supposed to want to grab back my career in neurobiology, put my kids in expensive private schools, and say "screw you world, I'm an intelligent woman with more balls than most men and if someone wants clean socks then they can go wash them themselves!". Part of me actually feels ashamed sometimes that I don't mind feeling like Betty on Mad Men once and awhile. That's not right. Feel ASHAMED of being a good mom and wife? Now, what kind of a person do THESE feelings make me? And in the midst of me fighting the feeling of dependance on another person (my husband), I neglect to realize that the perpetuation of this lifestyle that we live would be IMPOSSIBLE without me. Literally. Brandon's present job, and potential career advancement is contingent on the fact that he travels sometimes 4 out of 5 days in a work week. Without me, could he do that? Absolutely not! Do you know of any Daycare that has a 96 hour dropoff "day"?!? So, where does this leave me? Well, in 2010, my #1 New Year's resolution is to say F*** you to all those annoying people that look at me with regret and pity when I tell them that I'm a SAHM. Five years is long enough to STILL be feeling any tinge of guilt towards my fantastic new career. As enjoyable as perfusing mice used to be, 20, 30, even 100 years from now, no one will remember one single "menial" lab task I did in the 4 years I worked in neurobiology. What WILL still be evident, is the commitment I had to showing the next generation that the success of the feminist movement isn't in the prestige of a job, but in a lifetime of endless possibilities.

Happy 1st Birthday!

How do you measure a year?

Sadie woke up screaming tonight, and when I picked her up and sat in the chair to try and calm her down, she collapsed in my arms asleep. All of the memories of the past year came flooding into my head and I started to cry. She was lying in my arms asleep like the first time I held her, and I didn't want to breath for fear that the moment would end. Her first birthday is in two days. TWO DAYS. Where have all those moments gone? I remembered the first weeks when we would sleep in front of the fire on the couch. I remembered the spring nights when I would rock her to sleep with the windows open and warm breeze blowing over us. I remembered the first time Ben met his sister, her first smile, her first laugh. In the last few moments of her officially being a baby, I actually got to hold her like I did when we first met and I didn't want it to end. When she finally squirmed in my arms, wanting to be back in her own crib, I remembered all those nights when my arms were so tired from holding her, that I wished she would let me lay her down. Now I wished, just this once, she would need me to hold her longer. I thought about laying her down for a nap today, and seeing her smile and wave to me as she put her head down and I closed the door. Why do we spend so much time wishing they didn't need us? Didn't need us to rock them, or cuddle them to sleep, or hold them until our arms ache. They grow so fast. I wish I could know their lasts. We record the first time our children learn something new. But these aren't the important moments. The ones we should be able to hold onto are the lasts. Maybe if we knew, we would appreciate them just enough to never regret not holding onto them when we had the chance. When was the last time I could pick up Ben, or the last time he could fit in my lap? When was the last time he needed me to help him get dressed, or help him into the car? What about the last time Sadie slept on my chest or sat leaning on me as I rocked her to sleep? When will be the last time they believe in Santa, or run back to hug me goodbye? What if I'm too busy to notice? What if I miss the lasts?