A visit to Artsyville

When I was in high school I loved my chemistry teacher. His name was JP. We knew his last name was Pfitzner but it was never clear what his first name was. He was probably in his seventies. Maybe he was in his fifties and I just thought he was in his seventies because I was sixteen and totally out of touch with reality. He was kind of a little guy and had a thick German accent and anyone who had him over the forty some odd years that he taught at Foothill High School can tell you that a MOLE is the molecular weight expressed in grams. And that MOLARITY is moles over liters and that stoichiometry is both impossible to do and impossible to spell. He used to start class by saying YOU MAY REMEMBER...and the class would chime in, THOUGH I DOUBT IT. We loved him. And he loved someone he called FP. That was his wife. No one knew her name except that it was FP though we certainly enjoyed guessing. And then finally one day and told us what the letters stood for.

Favorite Person.

BFF was before his time I guess. And while I admire JP's devotion to FP, one FP does not work for me at all. One husband works great but I need a whole army of FPs. Because the alternative is being surrounded by a mess of annoying, uninspiring people. No thanks. So whenever a new FP comes into my life I have to just thank my lucky stars. And this new FP is the Mayor of Artsyville. Her name is Aimee and she is a gifted artist and writer and we've been bonding over what we go through balancing creativity and parenting and sometimes merging the two. She has two little ones also. And her work, no matter what your day has been like, gets you out of yourself for a moment and gives you a lift. This one especially resonated this morning:


And I'm an especially lucky girl because I recently received a bundle of happy from Artsyville. I took some pictures but since Aimee's are so much better than mine I'll just post hers. I mean just image my delight when my set of groovy doodle goods arrived...

Vantage advantage

The other day I was trying to take a picture with my phone, in fact it was the first time I’ve ever tried to take a picture with my phone, and a message popped up on the screen that the memory was full. Huh? Upon further investigation I found that there were already dozens of pictures in the phone. I scrolled through and saw pictures of my three-year-old’s feet dangling from his car seat, and the back of the passenger side head rest and a blurry one of me checking my email at home, and one of his kitty. I realized that he had covertly taken them all—including a self-portrait shot from his outstretched arm.

I had to laugh. It was like watching a slideshow of his world. We’ve been letting him use our digital camera (I know, you'd think we'd learn our lesson with the cell phone) which gives him unending pleasure. And the results have been surprisingly artistic. A lot of interesting angles and shots of loved ones from the waist down. A lot of shots of the sky, close-ups of the ground, his sister, his prized possessions, his own feet, the back of my head while I drive the car. You get the idea.

I made a little book of these pictures. For your perusal:

Click here to view this photo book.

MAC happy

Is it wrong that I'd rather be playing with my new 20 inch iMac than hanging out with my kids? I haven't used a Mac since I was a sophomore in college15 years ago. The first computer I ever used was a Mac. Actually it was an Apple 2e and I remember that I wrote a paper for 12th grade english on it. Before that I basically wrote everything by hand. I have nice handwriting. But I digress...

The computer belonged to my friend Andrea's mom. Then she upgraded to the little grayish beige box called a Mac and it had a little floppy disc drive which I always thought was so odd since the disc that went in their was not at all floppy. But it wasn't until I went to college that I had to start writing a lot of papers. Totally clueless I asked my Rhetoric professor (who was SOOO cute and named Noah) where the computer lab was and he gave me directions and gave me a diskette and sent me on my way. At that time there were only ten Mac stations and about 30 PC stations in all of the labs. There was always a line for the Macs. So one day I just bit the bullet and hopped on a PC, where I stayed for the next 15 years.

The Mac has changed a lot since the days of black and white screens in a little beige box. This thing is BEAUTIFUL. I'm basically in love. There are a few things I miss - my right click for one. And the photo program, iPhoto, is a little idiosyncratic. But I'm adjusting.

And while I do obviously enjoy spending time with my kids, these last few days what I wouldn't have given for a babysitter. Instead I do everything in my power to make them nap at the same time so I'll have a few precious hours playing with my new toy. My son is on to me I thnk.

Him: Why is baby crying?
Me: She's taking her nap.
Him: But she's crying.
Me: She'll stop soon and take her nap.
Him: Is she ti-yud?
Me: Yes.
Him: Then why is she screaming?
Me: She doesn't know that she needs to sleep but she does and so do you.
Him: So you can use your big, white computer?

Foiled.

Independence Day

It's independence day and I'm thinking about independence. The other day my son was angry with me for whatever reason and went into his room and told me to go away. He actually told me to leave his room and don't talk to him. At first I was distraught. What do you mean? I do everything for you, you little rat. I wipe your ass for god's sake. I painted this room and bought all the furniture and hung the art so you can kiss my tushy, I'm stayin'. I tell YOU what to do and not the other way around.

But I respected his wishes and left him alone with his thoughts and his kitty cat. And after a moment I was actually delighted. You want to be alone? You got it pally. I'm going to Tahiti actually. I'm stopping for coffee at Starbucks, then I'm getting a pedicure, then I'm going shopping without you annoying the crap out of me, then I'm going to watch four movies back to back in the cinema and then I'm going out to dinner where they don't allow kids and then I'm going to Tahiti.

Independence is tricky. A blessing and a curse. I so desperately want him to be able to put on his clothes, and use the bathroom, and play in his room without me, and walk across the street to the park, and drive himself to preschool (okay that one's a little far fetched), but the minute he wants his space, I sort of want to be the center of his universe again. That's my own inner toddler at work. I look like a 33 year old woman but really I'm only two and a half and I want it both ways.