It's a GIRL!!!

When we found out our first child was going to be a GIRL my husband was somewhat relieved: "It'll be easier for you" he said (nervously). He knows I have issues with men (in fact he said once that I would probably be more comfortable as a lesbian)


Issues with men? you say, SAY IT AIN'T SO! (try to sound shocked)


I was raised Mormon, and if there is any place to feel the slings and arrows of gender discrimination it is in religion.

My brothers got Father and son camp-out

I got "Daddy-daughter-dinner date"

I was incensed at girl's camp as a teenager that there had to be a priesthood holder (a man!) at the camp with us. I highly doubt there was a motherhood representative at boy's camp.

Mormon young men go on missions at age 19. Women are only encouraged to go at 21 if they are not married by then (can you say old maid?)

As a Mormon young woman you go to college really only to meet your husband. Maybe deep down that is one of the reasons I am going for a Ph.D.--because it was never expected that you would get that far.


You know religions are created by MEN when:

***God is a man.

***God's power is expressed through men.

***and the immaculate conception... a woman gives birth

and is still a virgin--

doesn't that sound like every man's fantasy? (a tad irreverent, I know)



.......and don't even get me started on men and politics/war/business



So YES!!!!!!, I have issues with men



Has it been easy having a girl? That is another story altogether. . .




G
is
now
almost
3

and every bit as SASSY as her mama

The world through the blogger's lens

Have you noticed that once you start a blog, you spend A LOT of time thinking of all the clever poignant, funny posts you could post? Then you start reading more blogs and you immediately realize that you have no business even having a blog because you are not remotely clever, poignant or funny enough.

Las cosas que nos gustan:

COMER

CORRER

TIRAR

PIEDRAS

EL SAPITO
(que vive en el water meter)

BICHOS RAROS

(only found in Texas)

Why blog

I feel like when you start a blog you owe some kind of explanation. You have to state an objective, a public in mind, sentiments you feel the overwhelming need to share with the "interworld." I am not sure why I started a blog. I guess because I have been reading blogs lately for some reason, very uncharacteristic of me, but nevertheless. . . here we are. . .

I don't know that I want people I know to read it. Have you noticed that when you write knowing who is going to read it, it changes what you say and how you say it? And let's be frank here, who else, but people I know, would want to read it? Ah therein lies the rub!

I think I am trying to escape the inevitibilty of working on my dissertation. Thinking about writing THAT monstrosity has made me want to write anything else. I propositioned a good friend of mine, asked her if I could write her adoption story... denied--too personal. Then I asked the same friend if she wanted to illustrate the children's books I had in mind. . . She must think I'm trying to capitalize on her life and talents and that I can't write anything on my own.

Ah, but she is wrong. . . I have my dissertation!!! and it is mine all mine hahaha (evil laughter)

of course other projects don't seem so hopelessly endlessly pointlessly fruitless.

I do want to finish my Ph.D. But I think I am afraid of what happens after I finish. Then what? Accept the fact that having completed a Ph.D. has, in fact, made it impossible to get a job in anything but academia? (trust me I know, I tried all summer to find a"lay person's" job). I am, apparently, not qualified to do anything other than read academic articles and write academic papers.


So I will write for me



and post photos of pumpkins

And of my brave daughter jumping off the pile of hay when even the bigger kids didn't dare

and of chubby baby Nico. . . mi gordito, who drools incessantly which, of course, I love

and I will tell no one . . .

Conversations con el tata (grandpa):

(el tata vive en Chile)

on the toy phone

G: Hello, Tata?

G: Ah. Cómo estás? bien? Ah

Mami: Preguntale: Qué estás haciendo?

G: Qué sta siendo?

G: Fuiste tu, el peíto (was that you? the little fart)

G: ok bye-bye. chau chau pescao

She (G) is three (almost) and newly obsessed with bodily functions. . . what can I say?