A Thank You Letter to My Mother’s Mortification

I knew that she knew. I wasn’t sure that she knew that I knew.

So, as I watched the white Subaru station wagon pull around to the front of the high school’s main office, where I waited by the pay phone, I wasn’t sure how to read the pursed lips my mother wore.  I didn’t have long to wait.

“Where were you?” my Mother asked. The car stayed in park.

“I told you, I had a tutoring session in math. My teacher said I needed tutoring in math.” The lie tumbled from my throat, but its strength wavered when it met my Mother’s gaze. She already knew where I had really been.  And it wasn’t at math tutoring for my Algebra shortcomings.

Contemplating Suburban Voting Power

I’ll admit that at first I was an eye-roller regarding the Montclair Council elections.  I thought, “Really, folks? What difference does it make?” I figured that the obvious disparity in the majority of the people who live in Montclair and the type of person who is able to run for and be on council without destroying her/his pocketbook was so great that the same basic council got elected year after year.  Being totally truthful, I just assumed that most people who were willing to put up with the nastiness and time consuming meetings and committees had ulterior motivations – as in investment or other monetary opportunities – for wanting to be on the council.

The Montclair Film Festival is Most Definitely Here.

The director, Terence Nance, at the Q&A.

I saw Terence Nance’s An Oversimplification of Her Beauty last night. Gorgeous, thoughtful, sexy, joyful, fun.  I’m kind of glad that I ended up going by myself (no offense, Georgette!) because it’s the kind of film I want to get to know on my own first  so as not to be influenced by others’ reactions.  It’s not for everyone, even though the woman next to me and I were Mmm Hmmming and nodding at the same time.  I wrote about it for Baristanet here.

I’ve loved traditional animation since college. Well, before that, obviously, as a fan.  But in college I was able to see first hand the sort of meticulous and intense work that goes into creating hand-drawn animation.  You get to know each frame personally in a way that no other medium allows.  And despite Terence Nance brushing off his abilities as an animator for this film, it’s pretty amazing.  Stop motion with wooden puppets, ink, watercolor, collage, and many more forms are used.  Each animated sequence is its own short film, and together they force an audience to absorb the stories with careful eyes.

Glad I Saw It: Mini Eyelashes

Maybe I’ve been living under a rock, but I have never seen this particular accessory for a Mini Cooper, or any car, before.  But I love it. Yes, I do!  The only thing that could make these better is if they were to clear off the headlight with a blink, or a wink.  Now That would be cool!

Rage Against the iPad

I felt the heat rise from my belly to my chest to my neck; it threatened to leap out of my mouth before I even fully recognized what I was seeing.  The fury surprised me.  And I contained it by pushing my fingertips into my temples and clenching my teeth together instead of screaming.  It wasn’t some unusual or horrific act, but it was one more value shattered.  My husband was letting my son play with our new iPad.

Now, I say “our” when I really mean “his,” my husband’s.  He bought it for work, you see.  And when the iPad3 arrived, we talked about making sure the kids didn’t get their hands on it.  Not because of breaking it (Because I would laugh, laugh so loud!), but because at 3 and 5 years old they are too young to already stick their heads into the digital ground, ignoring all around them.  I feel very strongly about this.  And my husband agreed, wholeheartedly. Or so I thought.

Therefore, when I rounded the corner to see two heads bent over the rectangular screen, I reacted physically, actually shaking with rage.  I felt betrayed by my husband and afraid of having a son addicted to pixels and slim electronic toys. It didn’t matter that they were using a Bob Books App for learning to read. I was just pissed that my little boy was touching that…that…THING!*

Totally illogical, I know. Especially because I spend much of my day either writing or posting or tweeting or emailing or scheduling those things.  But it’s different with my kids, isn’t it? Last year, when this New York Times article about Waldorf schools and the Silicon Valley execs who send their children to them came out, my husband and I nodded our heads sagely. Yes, yes, we said. We laughed at books like Goodnight iPad, and promoted books like It’s a Book. Children will learn technology in all of three-and-a-half minutes when they need to, we said. And we still believe that.  Enough with all the SMART boards and computers in Kindergarten and laptops for every six-year-old.  Teach them the basics. Teach them to be good people.  Give them opportunities to explore their worlds, not a filtered version of it.

via Sisterhood of the Sensible Moms

And that’s part of my fear for my children.  If they are engaging this early with technology, what will they miss?  And I realized it’s because of the things I know I am missing because of technology and the frenetic pace it demands.  I don’t want my kids to tweet their first home runs (Hang on, let me just tweet this! Then I’ll run the bases!), I want them to revel in it right there and then.  I don’t want them to feel like they need to refresh a page over and over to see if someone is responding to that Facebook observation they made about that cute classmate at the pizza parlor.  Because that’s not experiencing Life – it’s referring to Life, waiting to see if someone else validates it first.

I wrote about something similar a while ago. About being in an experience, not always worrying about recording it. And I think it’s related.  But am I just projecting fears onto my kids? Will the next generation be better able to balance real life and on-line life?  Will familiarity with technology actually make it less of a need, a desire?  I hope so. I hope so because it’s clear that I can’t shelter them from the tentacles of technology at home or in school.

*It’s possible that I may be exaggerating my reaction somewhat. Possibly.  I should also point out that I have made friends with that iPad now through Draw Something.  But I use my husband’s account, so it’s not really me. Right?

Did I overreact? Or will we end up with a world of children who mumble at a device instead of make eye contact and smile?

Glad I Saw It: Springtime Bicycles

These two bicycles were waiting patiently outside the Montclair Board of Education building last week. I thought to myself, “That makes a great photo!” And then I remembered that I always carry my camera with me.  And no it really does make a great photo.  Excellent, happy bikes! See them closer up below.

Glad I Saw It: Naked People in the Bathroom

There are so many cool people around me in this New Jersey place I call home.  Despite being an inherently unsocial person (I know, I know. You can’t believe it! It’s not true!), I’ve dragged myself out of my shell to get to know people just because they are so darn excellent.  Not what I expected, really.

And today, I offer you proof as to the Coolness of these Excellent people.  This piece of evidence comes from Bloomfield, NJ.  And it came during a Stella & Dot party – my first ever. (More on that another time.)

The sangria was GOOD. So good that I had to visit the powder room, not to reapply my non-existent foundation, but to actually use the facilities.  And as I did that, here’s what greeted me.  LOVE it.

Not only is this a lovely image to admire while on the throne, but the Brooklyn Bridge is never a disruptive image for relaxation.  And who doesn’t like some wild nudity?  Is this early Spencer Tunick, or some other admirer of the human body it its most perfect form?

Just What I Needed to Hear: Irisha’s Mantra

Gene Pelham's photograph for Norman Rockwell's Girl at Mirror.

Sweat was heavy on my back, and my faded t-shirt stuck to my shoulder blades.  I had my arms wrapped protectively around my body, and tears had welled-up in my tightly closed eyes.  I followed directions to repeat what I heard, and I whispered something I hadn’t thought to say since early childhood.

“I am a rare and magnificent gift to the Universe. Behold, and cherish me.”

Unwrapping my arms from my body was almost painful. I couldn’t make eye contact with the other women who all seemed to be smiling and nodding at each other around the gymnasium.  Silent streams betrayed the confusion I felt at saying those simple words out loud.

I had to leave. It was that bad.  I used the YMCA’s towel to mop the tears on my cheeks, and I walked out without looking back.

Poopendous Reading at Watchung Booksellers

My kids have been told “No Bathroom Talk” at their preschool.  And we’ve tried to curb their use of poopie, doo-doo, and peep (I don’t know why they say it with a P at the end) talk, especially during mealtimes.  And that’s why I was a bit wary of approaching the reading of Poopendous with author Artie Bennett at Watchung Booksellers.  I didn’t want to undo all the good work that the school had done (we often use “poopie” at home).

I was glad to discover, then, that the book is actually a silly, fun, and educational collection of poop around the animal kingdom.  Not only do children learn that monkey dung is sometimes flung, but my favorite line educated me: “Guano is an Incan word for poop of bat or ocean bird.”  I didn’t know it was Incan; I thought it was Spanish!  The book also talks about useful roles of poop. Homes are built of it, it is used for cooking fires, and cow pies are thrown in contests (hopefully my kids won’t pay attention to that section…).

All in all, the book is very cute, and the illustrations by Mike Moran add to the words in clever and entertaining ways.  And if you want more books about sometimes off-limits topics, Artie Bennett also has The Butt Book – which is about, well, Butts. I can’t wait to see what’s next…

Glad I Saw It: Spring Gnome

It’s no secret that I love a good garden gnome. I think they add spunk and joy and color and just plain old fun to the dreariest of gardens.  That’s why I have one where we had to take down a tree a year ago.  A memorial of sorts.

This guy hangs out, half-way hidden, on the side of a front garden that is just on the verge of bursting into full springtime growth. I almost missed him the first time I passed this house, but now I can’t help but notice his daisy-topped hat.

I love that these folks have made full use of their front yard with plantings as well as a raised vegetable garden.  This makes the second spring that I’ve promised I’m going to plant lots of veggies.  Really, really I will.