All posts by tinymantras

Motherhood

The thin grey hairline

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I am suspicious of Starbucks. And I have more than the usual suspicions about which ingredient makes their coffee especially addictive, or whether or not cashiers have been genetically enhanced in pods to be extra pleasant to caffeine junkies, babies and dogs.

I want to see their employee handbook and find out whether or not they are instructing young male employees to flirt with married, middle-aged women. Here in America, we are one of the most highly courted consumer groups, after all. Just the other day, I pulled into the drive-thru for a quick cup in between stops. After all of the usual niceties seemed to be complete and I had pulled the gear back into drive, the young man leaned out the window with a flirty grin. “Hey,” he said, “I hope you have an amazing day.”

If this had been an isolated incident, I wouldn’t have thought much of it. But this is just one of several events where I’ve been subjected to attention that seemed too oddly flattering. They ask superfluous questions about how I am doing, accompanied by meaningful arm-folding and head-tilting – like they’ve all studied John Corbett’s Aiden character on Sex in the City for tips about how to appear more concerned and sensitive.

Either that, or there is something about getting your first few grey hairs and a layer of mommy fat that makes you wildly attractive to a certain breed of men, many of whom apparently work retail. I heard the entire marital history of a man selling me office supplies on Tuesday for no discernible reason. I left wondering whether my wedding ring, modest though it may be, might have become invisible.

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Copyright Tracy Zollinger Turner, Tinymantras.com, 2009.

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Notes of a She-Hack

Some validation…

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The KnowledgeWorks Foundation storytelling project that I write for just won a silver Wilmer Shields Excellence in Communications award from the Council on Foundations for our 2006 publications about school reform initiatives in Ohio.

All of the writers involved have spent many, many hours at urban high schools that have committed to fight their way out of academic crisis. We are working on two more publications, due out later this year.

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Copyright Tracy Zollinger Turner, Tinymantras.com, 2009.

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Armchair Astrophysics, Motherhood, Zeitgeist

Andy Wormhole

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One of the great joys of the DVR is the fact that I can catch up on all of the old episodes of Star Trek: Voyager and Star Trek: Deep Space Nine that I missed when I had a social life. (I managed to pull off watching all of The Next Generation episodes I hadn’t seen before during those first few months of napping and nursing.)

As a result Declan has two requests that he makes daily: “space show watch?” and “wormhole watch?” These are usually code for “lie down and snuggle with me after I jump up and down while looking at images of space.”

But it’s more than a TV/snuggling fixation. His vocabulary expands daily: rocketship, Earth, meteor, planet. Space toys, outside of Twilight Turtle aren’t very easy to find at his developmental level. I stapled cosmic felt onto a board for the playroom last week, threw velcro backing on some glow in the dark stars and made a few planets and spaceships for him to stick on there. I think he would prefer that the whole room was covered in felt so he could stick these things wherever he wished, but at least it’s getting a little use.

When I went to a craft store to get some things for this project the other day, I also spotted a small reproduction of Andy Warhol’s painting, “Space ship” on sale for $2.50. I snagged it and handed it to Declan as soon as I walked in the door. “Space ship!” his father trumpeted.

“Oooooh! Space ship,” Declan repeated.

“It’s Andy Warhol,” I told them.

“Andy Wormhole!” said Declan, wandering into the living room, holding it in his hands. “Space ship wormhole!”

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Copyright Tracy Zollinger Turner, Tinymantras.com, 2009.

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Notes of a She-Hack

Regret the error…

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I love this! As a regular contributor to newsprint for over a dozen years, I’ve had a handful of embarrassing gaffes that still haunt me in the wee, paranoid hours in the night. (And a few that irritate me in the night because I’ve actually had errors edited into my copy as well.)

Here’s reassurance that even the best, most highly-paid folks in the biz make common, and sometimes hilarious mistakes.

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Copyright Tracy Zollinger Turner, Tinymantras.com, 2009.

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Motherhood

The dream diet

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Lynds
Originally uploaded by tzt.

Ever since I first found out that I was going to have a May baby, I dreamed of planting a vegetable garden every year around his or her birthday. It took me until my 30s to realize the rewards of eating homegrown food, let alone planting and nourishing anything, then watching it flourish.

In my pregnant daydreams, this child and I would play with plants in the dirt, then water and watch things grow together. On the languid evenings between late July and the early fall, we would happily eat our homegrown “birthday” tomatoes and cucumbers in celebration of his or her life and good food. I just had to keep my fingers crossed that this child would actually enjoy vegetables.

Now 14 months, Declan screams for bananas and berries in the grocery store aisles, so far mostly unaware of the sugary pleasures of things like chocolate and cookies. The other day he reached out his hand and cried as a bag of avocados rode past him on the conveyor belt in the checkout line, oblivious to a quart of ice cream. “Aha, you have one of those fruit and vegetable babies there, don’t you?” the woman bagging the groceries said.

Last night we stopped for sweet corn at Lynd’s Fruit Farm and walked past a table of tomatoes. Declan started to grab one, which would have caused an avalanche, so I redirected him to walk toward his father. There was another table of beefsteaks on the path, and before either of us could do anything about it, he had one in his hand and took a bite out of it like an apple. Customers and the owners all laughed as they watched him chow down as though his life depended on it, juice and seeds seeping down his chin.

Granted, a few more tastes of confections could change his tastes completely in the next couple of years, but so far, the gardening assistant of my daydreams lives on.

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Copyright Tracy Zollinger Turner, Tinymantras.com, 2009.

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Zeitgeist

Conservative babies

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Well here is an interesting read. Apparently it is the second study to report that insecure toddlers and children who feel the world is out to get them are more likely to grow up to be conservative adults who are “uncomfortable with ambiguity.”

If you look at the way Republicans spin their identity and agenda in the media, this is a natural. I’m consistently amazed at how well they make themselves look like the underdog, no matter how much power they wield. I find it dishonest and irritating, especially when I see otherwise thoughtful people buy into the seemingly endless Republican persecution complex. We live in increasingly weird times, when journalistic attempts to hold public officials accountable for their actions are written off as “liberal” and “personal attacks.” In a time when the balance of power has allegedly been tipped by Christianity, it seems like honesty is the last thing our culture values.

What’s interesting to me is how an article like this will be discussed in exactly that prism, without any service to the gray areas, because we are living in conservative times. Plenty of people who would never pull a lever for a Republican don’t even seem to see this. I know some who are as politically left as left can be who still use terms like “politically correct” even though that’s been one of the best operating tools for Republicans for about 15 years. I know people who appear to think that repeating the mantras of Fox News pundits and conservative radio hosts makes them an independent thinker.

The oddest thing is that the behavioral definition of liberal in this article implies that a child has the confidence to be independent, question things, and not take it personally if they are questioned. Those are qualities I would want my child to possess. Aren’t they the qualities most people would say they want in a leader?

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Copyright Tracy Zollinger Turner, Tinymantras.com, 2009.

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Under the Whale

Out of Touch

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We’ve had a January of non-stop pain-in-the-ass bad luck and a couple of truly sad events.

First, our beloved dog Samson was diagnosed with bone cancer. He deteriorated rapidly and was in immense pain. We said goodbye to him over the New Year’s weekend – my husband slept on the living room floor with him to help keep him comfortable. He was a beautiful mutt. Everyone’s best guess was that he was part golden retriever, part chow, and part Afghan Hound. A member of the family for over 10 years, he was one of the world’s truly loveable creatures; a sentient who calmly offered himself up for petting whenever he sensed that you were stressed, a beautiful athlete on the hiking trail and just plain loving soul. We still miss him daily. His ashes and pawprint are on the windowsill.

A week later, another kind and gentle soul, Dan’s uncle and godfather, passed away. The youngest of my mother-in-law’s siblings, eveyone lamented his difficult life, which was rife with health problems. But what I knew of him in the past ten years was that he seemed to be a contented man who was extremely loyal and devoted to the extended family. We took a trip to the Pittsburgh area where Declan was at least able to meet several second cousins who had yet to make his acquaintence. He and I spent the service outside the chapel because he decided that the room going quiet was the perfect opportunity to talk. We went to a strange restaurant afterwards, where one waitress was assigned to the room of over fifty people by herself, and a bartender nearly bit my head off for requesting apple juice.

Other highlights of the month: Dan’s car broke down. He accidentally killed my laptop with a can of ginger ale. Last week we had a flat tire and got food poisoning. We’ve had about three colds in six weeks and a few friends are having scary health issues.

We are grateful that there are new beginnings this week with the Chinese Year of the Dog (I am a dog myself, and the Tibetan Losar.

Meanwhile, Declan can crawl! He scootches around on the floor like an inchworm or a drags himself by his front arms like a G.I. It’s an amazing but frightening development, because he can really cruise. In the tradition of the rural Ohio humor of my family, my mother has suggested that we put a cork in his butt and tie it to a brick.

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Copyright Tracy Zollinger Turner, Tinymantras.com, 2009.

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