RECORDING DAY!

This is the real reason we came up to Ashland this year-- to record THE MAN WHO WAS THURSDAY with actor Peter Macon. This is evidence that my husband is amazing. We saw Peter last year at the festival playing The Scottish King in you-know-what-play. He actually ended up being in almost every production we saw that year due to understudying, etc. And we all fell in love with him (in our own way). Time passed... and as Andy felt the dilemma of finding the perfect voice to play Sunday, he one day just said, "Peter Macon. I have to have him. I'm going to contact him." And he did. And Peter said yes. What the heck?! Let me remind you that this is an unpaid project. And we have several other actors on level with Macon as well. That is just a testament to the quality of talent we have working on this production and the draw of doing Chesterton, and (I like to think) the talent of my dear husband as well.

Peter and Peer got along quite well, actually. Must be their shared namesake. =)

Having dinner at one of our favorite Ashland spots, Standing Stone Brewery.

PLAYING IN LITHIA PARK

Peer found a new friend, Ayla, while he was swinging, and loooooved playing with her. He talked about her for days after! It think this is his first crush on a white girl.

Frisbee with Daddy!

The beauties of Ashland! Where else can you have world-class theatre, a hippie-natural living culture, and frickin' deer?!


seen on a walk down the street...

TUESDAY: A little shopping, and a little theatre


We found a fun toy store for Peer to play around in


Enjoying the view of beautiful Ashland Creek

Running through the creekside dining area in search of a restroom

Checking out the children's section at this really cool bookstore. I got a Hypnobirthing book to explore and Peer got a new Thomas the Train book with flaps (that I'm sure will be ripped off shortly).

Then we went home in time for Andy to take the car back to OSF for his matinee. He saw Hamlet in the Bowmer, which you can read more about below. I did not have my ticket yet for that night, as I had planned to use the super-secret rush system. I was going to see Pride and Prejudice, but at the last minute changed my mind and went for Merchant of Venice. It was the only show I could see in the Elizabethan theatre, which is always a really great experience. The production was very solid and the performances were excellent. I ended up with front-row seats on the stage right (house left) side, right next to the tunnel where the actors made their exits and entrances. I had never seen this show on stage, so it was wonderful to be so close. It's such a difficult piece and I'm glad I had the opportunity to see this production. It seemed that the director was trying to embrace the contradictions and ambiguities within the text, which is a very interesting choice in this play which is famed to be Shakespeare's most racist piece, yet also deeply humanistic. I appreciated the production not taking a side, but rather revealing to us yet another of the many paradoxes that existed within Elizabethan culture. On a lighter note, I also really enjoyed the costume design. It was cool. The characters wore present-day clothing with a layering of something Elizabethan over it. Either a cloak or a ruff, etc. The Elizabethan attire seemed to represent wealth in some of the scenes. Nice job.

And might I also add, seeing theatre by yourself is fun. Especially on vacation. And especially in a really cool outdoor theatre such as the Elizabethan.

WEDNESDAY: Scienceworks Children's Museum, Hamlet at OSF for Lana and American Night at OSF for Andy

Peer spent quite a while playing in the Ball Factory at Scienceworks. He cooperated so nicely with the other children. He would send a bucket of tennis balls one by one down a pipe like the one you see here, then another child would go down below to retrieve them, bring them up to Peer, and it continued on and on... We discovered that when he is using the right side of his brain and engaging in creative play, he is a total chatterbox. But when it's the left side and he's discovered and exploring how things work--like here-- he is totally silent.

The bubble room was lots of fun. Maybe more for Mommy and Daddy.

Playing with water in the toddler area.

More fun with balls, pipes, and suction in the toddler area.

After a delicious stop at Pita Pit for a quick lunch, we dropped Andy off at OSF for his matinee. He saw American Night, a new commissioned play by the popular LA-based comedy group Culture Clash. The play is part of an American Heritage series of commissions that Artistic Director Bill Rauch envisioned when he took the post. I imagine Rauch must have begun his relationship with CC with the play I auditioned for a while back, Peace, at the Getty Villa. (the audition went great, but I was disappointed that Rauch was not in the room... and that I didn't get called back. oh well) You'll have to ask Andy for details about the play, since I took Peer home for naptime. He seemed to really like it and be impressed with CC.

Before the show that night, we went to dinner at the home of a new contact that Andy made while trying to book a space to record. A local author and owner of a small publishing company recommended an employee at OSF who could book a room for them. This employee also happened to be the Hip Hop Dramaturg for Hamlet. (did you know that hip hop had dramaturgs? you do now!) Anyway, the author and her family were there, along with the dramaturg. It was a really wonderful evening with amazing people. I wish we could have stayed longer. We were so glad to make some new friends in Ashland!

That evening I saw an incredible production of Hamlet in the Bowmer Theatre, directed by Rauch himself. Like I said, Rauch is the Artistic Director of the whole theatre and an accomplished production director himself. Aside from that, the Shakespeare that is done in Bowmer is always fantastic and innovative, so this production was a must-see for both of us. It did not disappoint. The production was set in the present-day and-- believe it or not-- the scene of the play-within-a-play was actually staged as a hip hop number. Don't cringe. It was amazing. Now I'm not a hip hop girl, so I understand your skepticism. But this scene was staged with such an intentional bent toward story-telling that it made the hip hop very appealing. Not just your lame wannabe rap. The text was altered a bit to fit the form, but the iambic pentameter was preserved and the scene was quite incredible. The rest of the show was equally as enthralling, with a very thoughtful Hamlet and an Ophelia that reminded me of a younger, even-more-talented Maggie Gyllenhaal. Here's another cool thing-- the actor playing the Ghost was hearing impaired. So interactions with him and references to late king were all done with ASL incorporated into the text. I thought this was a really nice touch to a play that is first all about words and language. Also, it added a nice touch to the whole plot device of the king having been poisoned in the ear. Very excellent use of the present-day attractiveness of using actors of differing abilities.

Here are some shots of our cottage in Ashland. We started doing the cottage thing last year when we brought some friends up with us. This year we were by ourselves, but opted for a cottage again, only smaller. It was perfect! A cottage beats a B&B or hotel when you have a young child and your family needs space, privacy, and some level of noise tolerance. This one was a one-bedroom duplex and was the perfect size for the three of us. I cooked a couple of nice breakfasts at home, but the rest of the trip we mostly ate out.

Peer enjoyed setting up his trains and other toys to keep him occupied while at home.

Here's a shot from the outside. Isn't it cute? Peer and Andy enjoyed playing frisbee on the little lawn. And it wasn't on a busy street, either, so that makes a mommy feel good.

(this is not the end. click "older posts" to keep reading)

THURSDAY: Long Hard Road Trip

So Thursday morning we set off to attempt something stupid: traveling from southern OR to Santa Barbara, CA in one day. It wasn't easy. Peer did better than I did. On one occasion he said to me, "Mommy, it's a long way to Uncle Tom's house. You have to be patient. Don't be sad in the car!" What a sweetie.

On our mad dash south, we stopped in a little town called Vacaville (?) where we were amazed to stumble upon a shopping mall with an outdoor choo choo train and carousel. We were in a big hurry, but not so much that we couldn't take a ride!

It was also really, really hot here. But by the time we got to our next stop we were more coastal and it was freezing!

So we were on the road for about thirteen or fourteen hours, arriving at about 10pm the night before our final day of vacation in Santa Barbara. Driving from southern Oregon to Santa Barbara in one day while seven months pregnant and with a three-year-old is NOT advisable, by the way. Andy's brother Tom had a wonderful home that he very graciously opened up to us, including the most awesome snuggly soft bed to sleep in. I really enjoyed it, considering the fact that in a couple months we'll have a newborn and there's NO WAY you could ever put a newborn on such a soft surface. But it sure made for a nice sleep for us big kids.

The next day we hit the town, eating lunch at one of our favorite stops in SB, The Natural Cafe.

As much as I wanted to shop, Peer was definitely not in the mood, so we opted for the beach instead. He and Andy had a wonderful time, although it was a bit cold.

We also had to take a little time for frisbee before we left.

We finished up the day with a lovely dinner with Tom, including plenty football and chalk drawings in his adorable backyard. Then we headed home for the night.

Three Years Ago Today...

I was lying in bed in the early morning hours, unable to sleep. Suddenly, a rush of water flooded the sheets. I was 37 weeks pregnant and the time had come, taking us all by surprise. The first test of faith came early with the decision to either follow doctor's orders and go straight to the hospital, or stay home. At home we would be in privacy, in peace, and under only God's protection. The faith of my husband was greater than mine and we stayed home. He ran to the store to get supplies. I sat alone on my bed. Silently. Peaceful, yet anxious. I waited and prayed for something to happen. I recognized in those silent moments that my faith was weak and the intervention I needed was not medical, but divine. Eventually and slowly the tide began to sweep over me. As pain filled my body, relief and gratitude filled my soul.

He came home. We relocated to the couches, and laid in the darkness. Waiting. Pretending to sleep. Trying to rest. Uncertain of what would lie ahead. Taking note of every sensation. The pain soon moved into my back. No relief was offered between surges. Intensity grew and pain remained constant. We got up and ate something.

As dawn broke, my body was filled with power and overwhelming movement. It was painful, it was intense, and it was all I could think about. We took a short walk, stopping every few moments to rest through the growing tidal waves that were enveloping me. We went home. We ate a real breakfast. We intended to go for another walk, but I said maybe later. I laid down to rest on my side on the couch.

I moaned and moaned with each passing surge. The music I had picked out was too distracting. Relaxing hymns on a solo piano were better. Soon the sensations overcame me and I became consumed in a sea of confusion. I was entering the Dark Forest of Uncertainty. I began to doubt everything-- my body, my self, my husband, my faith, God, whether or not I was really in labor. Maybe I was just really sick...? Andy thought the contractions were still 15 minutes apart. I thought they were coming on top of each other. Every time he would ask me a question, I could only moan a mournful "I don't knooooooooow..." At some point, amidst all this uncertainty I suddenly became staunchly determined of one thing. It was time to leave. I don't care what anyone says, I don't know what is going on, I just know we have to leave NOW. Get ready. Get the bags. Get the birth plan. And shut up.

As I waited, I bounced on the birth ball with my head on the back of the couch. While Andy was in the other room, I suddenly felt the first break I'd had in hours. For just a few minutes, peace swept over me like a warm blanket. I was thankful, but I knew what this meant-- Transition. I didn't dare speak this out loud or tell Andy. It was too intimidating to imagine being that close to the birth of our child.

We arrived in the parking lot at 7:00 in the morning. We knew this would be my last chance to eat, so I took a bite of a granola bar and immediately threw up all over the parking lot. Oh well.

The determination I felt ten minutes earlier had now turned into intimidation. I remember Andy's voice telling people, "woman in labor here," and I remember people pointing, always pointing, and we followed pointing fingers like roadsigns. The roadsigns eventually led to the overflow room-- the only room in the ward that I had been in before, albeit only once.

After I undressed and put on a hospital gown, I laid on my side and let the surges come, still moaning, just riding each wave without regard to what was happening around me. Eventually a nurse came in to check my cervix. To my surprise and delight, her face went blank when she muttered, "you're complete." Joy filled my heart. I really was in labor and I had accomplished my first major goal-- I had made it past the time when pain medication could be offered. Now I just had to push the baby out.

But that was too scary. I knew she was wrong to put my legs together and tell me not to push, but I was too timid to hear my body telling me that was just the thing to do. So I laid there and waited, moaning and enduring as I had for Godknowshowlong before then. The nurses scurried around the room, getting it ready for the impending birth that suddenly took priority over the others that had been in that hospital waiting for hours. Andy overheard them discussing who was best at catching babies, just in case the doctor didn't make it.

Eventually, a kind and gentle soul came to me and told me to try practicing pushing. Practice pushes I could handle. So I started practicing. My mother arrived, floating in like a nervous butterfly, ready as always to help with eager excitement. Andy almost left to go get the camera, and I yelled at him the first unkind and panicked statement during whole ordeal. He sent someone else. Very early on, Andy said he could see our precious baby boy's head making its way into this world.

The doctor made it in time. His cocky attitude and sharp metal instruments were a rude awakening from this world of gentle, caring women and family that loved me. I didn't notice. He made a rude comment. I didn't notice. I just kept pushing. There was a brief disagreement about the episiotomy. I shut them up. I had work to do. I had emerged from the Dark Forest, and was now as focused as a lioness on the hunt, as powerful as a tiger in battle. At some point the doctor told me to relax and not push. He made a little snip with his lethal scissors. He told me to push and I did, with all the force my body could muster. Then he panicked and raised his voice, telling me to stop pushing. Then in a surprising moment I heard Andy say, "that's it! He's out! You did it! He's born!" I was confused. I thought it was supposed to be another half an hour. (why? I don't know. I just thought that.)



I held my slimy, sticky, amazing baby boy in my arms for the first time. I cried and openly praised God for what He had done. Everyone asked what his name was and Andy said, "this is Peer."



This is Peer. My best friend, my precious baby boy. My firstborn. The one who made me a mother. The one who, without knowing it, birthed me on that day into a new being that I didn't know could exist. I will never forget that day as long as I live, and every year at this time I will relive it, and cherish it, with awe, gratitude, and love.

Summer of Theatre (hopefully)

Despite dedicating my career to the craft, and my two degrees in the subject, getting off my butt to actually see theatre is always a difficulty. This has a little to do with me being cheap, and a little to do with being busy (especially before the kid-- when you are constantly performing in shows, spending your little free time viewing one isn't exactly top priority), and a lot to do with just being a homebody. Don't get me wrong-- I'd still see theatre on vacation and such. But not really without a special occasion. Last time I was pregnant, I had no idea how little I would actually get out once I became a mom. (I had no idea about a lot of things...) But this time around, I'm feeling an urge similar to nesting that tells me to see all the theatre I can before this baby arrives. Andy has been particularly eager to support me in this. I think he gets it too. And he loves having a wife that is current in her field, I think. So anyway, I haven't gotten out a lot this season, but so far we've seen Opus at The Fountain Theatre, and last night I went by myself to see a workshop production of Lorraine Hansberry's Les Blancs at Antaeus. And we've also got another trip to Ashland, OR planned where we will both see three productions at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. Last year I only saw two and regretted it. We've got plans for Hamlet, Pride and Prejudice, and Throne of Blood for me, and then Hamlet, Merchant of Venice, and a new play called American Night for Andy.

Opus is a somewhat new play about a famous string quartet who must replace one of their members after an internal conflict. The small ensemble cast (only 5) included Gregory Gifford Giles, one of Andy's actors from THE MAN WHO WAS THURSDAY, the radio play he is currently producing and directing. I've auditioned at The Fountain before, but I'd never seen a show there. It's one of those cramped 99-seat houses that uses half of their space for stage and the other half for audience (which, btw, was sold out completely for the matinee we saw and we were the only ones in the audience under the age of 60). It's actually a very wise use of the space. The stage was the perfect size and the set design was simple but brilliant. All the performances could best be characterized as precise and well-crafted, fitting to the characters' all being classical musicians. The actors approached their roles just as a musician in a string quartet would approach a piece of music. It's being extended, so I highly recommend catching it before it closes.

Les Blancs is a Lorraine Hansberry piece that I had never read or seen before. If you recall, Hansberry is the playwright who famously penned A Raisin in the Sun, but none of her other works reached near the popularity of that one. Les Blancs takes place in Africa on a mission compound, and for some reason, I'm really attracted to plays that are set in Africa and deal with the racism issue on that front. I find it really fascinating. My biggest reason for vacationing to OSF last year was to see Soyinka's Death and The King's Horseman and I think this play surpasses that one in depth of thought, in my opinion. This show was a workshop production, which for the audience, basically only means that the actors carry scripts around in their hands. All of the acting, set design, costumes, props, etc., are in place and used and are certainly good enough for a "fully staged" production. It's quite easy to forget the actors are even carrying scripts. Antaeus does this sort of workshop production quite a bit, as part of their goal is to allow their actors to explore a brought range of classical texts. I've always loved the work Antaeus does and really enjoy following them. I really hope they bring this show back-- I think it deserves another look. I also feel a little disappointed that I am only writing a paragraph on it. The academic in me really wants to either write a review or a whole paper on it-- there's so much to explore. But alas, if I am to be engaging in academic activity, it should really be my thesis...

I'm also really hoping to get out to a staged reading at A Noise Within this summer. I believe this is the first year that they have been doing these readings and they look really cool. That theatre used to be completely dark over the summer and it seems they have slowly been increasing their summertime activity. And hopefully I will get to see a few more things before the birth of this child. But I must admit that toward the end of the show last night I was getting quite uncomfortable, and as much as my mind was enjoying the play, my body was determined to spoil my fun. Hopefully I'll be able to make it through a few more before I get too uncomfortable to even try.

Breastfeeding through Pregnancy

So Peer obviously did not wean before I got pregnant, so I have now ended up nursing through this pregnancy. It's been quite the adventure. I immediately borrowed a book from my local La Leche League group, Adventures in Tandem Nursing: Nursing Through Pregnancy and Beyond to aid me on my journey. I remember not long after he was born my doctor telling me that if I got pregnant again I would have to stop breastfeeding. I thought this was absurd. How could the human race sustain itself if that was truly dangerous? Later on as I learned more, I discovered why some in the medical community hold this line: breastfeeding does release oxytocin which can cause uterine contractions. But since then, I have seen so many moms nurse through pregnancy that I maintained my original position that to insist a mom must quit breastfeeding when she gets pregnant is just lame. The book is both clinical and practical, so it spends a considerable amount of time going through the research on breastfeeding during pregnancy (and nursing two children at once), explaining each position, the research involved, and arguing why tandem nursing is usually safe. It also gives explanations of situations in which it would not be. The bottom line is essentially that if a woman isn't starving (as in third-world country type of starving), breastfeeding during pregnancy is safe for mom, fetus, and nursling. And yes, the uterus does contract. It is always contracting-- this is good, as it is practice for labor. It does not produce any more oxytocin than having sex, so if a woman is healthy enough to do that during pregnancy, then she can certainly breastfeed.

So, safety and medical issues aside, the body goes through a lot of changes during pregnancy, and those changes definitely effect breastfeeding. In the first trimester, my breasts were extremely sore. Nursing hurt a little the first month, and A LOT in the second and third month. Once the initial tenderness got better, nursing was a little easier. But it still hurts. Every time. It hurts at first, and then after a few minutes the pain subsides. Also, his nursing habits have changed. He now digs his teeth into me more than he ever did. I think as my milk is drying up, he is adjusting his suck so that he gets more, maybe. So now he employs his teeth. We are working on fixing this. It's obviously unacceptable! Also, breastfeeding him down to sleep at naptime has become sometimes ineffective. This is very sad. I've taken to walking him to sleep, but now it's getting hot outside and I am getting too big to wear him in front in the carrier. The next time I need to do that, I will either take him for a drive or try him on my back. Sucks. Nursing him down to sleep at naptime used to be about my favorite time of day. So it's sad when it doesn't work anymore.

Oh, and he also kicks me in the belly a lot. But that also happens in the shopping cart, in bed, and at other random times of day. THAT sucks.

After a lot of soul-searching and pouring over that book, I've come to the conclusion that there is nothing wrong with the parent weaning the child during pregnancy. I always wanted him to wean himself, but he's almost three now, and if it gets too painful I feel I have the right and maybe even the duty to cut him off. I don't want to have negative feelings toward him or toward breastfeeding in general. It must always be pleasurable! Peer is old enough to be weaned, so if it comes to that, I will do it with a clear conscience, knowing that I have accomplished all my breastfeeding goals with this child, and have done more for him in this area than I ever thought I could. And knowing that he is ready. And acknowledging that he may come back to the breast after the baby is born. That is okay by me. But for now, we are still going. With God's guidance and grace, we may go all the way up to the birth and beyond. Or not.

Training for Childbirth

So the last time I was pregnant, I was just coming off of being an actor "full time," so I was pretty used to prioritizing taking care of myself, since that is an essential part of an actor's job. Even though I was not as educated as I am now in the area of nutrition, I was very disciplined. I rarely ate desserts or sweets and overall ate very healthy. Even though I did consume a lot more preservatives, processed foods, pesticides, and artificial hormones, etc.

The best thing, though, that I probably did to prepare for childbirth was exercising like crazy. I always enjoyed exercising since long before I became pregnant, but once I got it in my head that I was going to have to accomplish the greatest physical task of my life, I really kicked the exercising into high gear. I continued my jogging regimen until I was 5 months pregnant and my back no longer allowed me. Then I switched to walking and ended up walking twice a day. I went to Curves twice a week at least, sometimes three. I did prenatal yoga for the last 4 weeks of my pregnancy (it would have been six if Peer hadn't come early, causing me to lose the last two weeks of my package!). On top of all this, I religiously did all the exercises in the Bradley workbook with Andy's help. I felt great. And I never loved my body more.

But this time around I am a full-time mom, which means I have become accustomed to putting my own needs on the back burner, in order to cater to the needs of others (namely, my child). One of my apprehensions toward getting pregnant was my fear that I would not be able to get into shape like I did last time. I do eat healthier, more natural foods now. And I gave up meat. But the discipline seems to be gone. After I've had a crazy day with Peer, I desperately want comfort food! I don't think I really overdo it, but when dessert is offered, I take it! I tried jogging at the beginning of my pregnancy, but I was so sick and fatigued that I just couldn't. (I was sick last time too-- how did I do it?) I obviously can't go to the gym anymore, especially not Curves because of their crazy hours.

So here's what I am doing: I exchanged the possibility of jogging with the certainty of daily walks. And they are long-- about an hour every day. And by every day, I mean about four days a week. 'Cause Friday is Funday. I started doing prenatal yoga a few weeks ago. This is much earlier in the pregnancy than last time, so I'm hoping that covers some of the other exercise I'm not getting. I've been trying to do the Bradley exercises again, but it's been sporadic. Again, a discipline issue. I've been writing down what I eat, and that helps. I count my proteins and try to get 60-80 grams per day, spreading the protein out over as many food groups as possible. Last time I did 80-100, but my midwife and others all agree that 60 is sufficient. But I don't write this stuff down every day. Maybe a few days per week. Again, a discipline problem. That's about it.

I'm trying not to freak out, and accept the fact that I will probably gain more this time than I did last time. I only gained 20 lbs last time, which is very low. I'll probably lose a lot while I'm exclusively breastfeeding, although I don't want to depend on that. And I'm also reminding myself that theoretically, this birth should be easier since it is my second. Even if I'm not in tip-top shape, the rest of my body is much more familiar with the task. And that perhaps, it is more important to train my mind and spirit than my body.

So does anyone else have tips for exercising during pregnancy? Especially any habits that can be implemented with a toddler running around? Or any other childbirth preparation in general that they'd like to pass on? It's just so different for your second-- I feel like I'm treading new water!

Potty Training!

I'm excited to report that we finally got our little man out of diapers. This was a transition I'd been dreading because it seemed so hard, so I'm very excited that we actually did it! I read this wonderful book, Toilet Training in Less Than a Day and I thought the methods in that book were really helpful. It definitely took us more than a day, though. We didn't do everything precisely the way the book called for, and our child isn't quite as perfectly compliant as the book describes, either. But lucky for us, within about a week we were at a point where we could leave the house in big-boy underpants.

When I first started, I had a really bad attitude. I didn't want to do this. It sounded really hard. I had a serious lack of energy between school and morning sickness and I was just at the verge of getting VERY sick. And on top of all that, everyone says that once you start potty training, you can't go back. That was very intimidating. I think I was doing it partially because I saw that many of his little friends were potty trained and I felt pressured. I did believe he was ready, but I wasn't ready. But I gave it a shot. I tried the methods in the book and they semi-worked. It was exhausting. He peed on the floor while I was throwing up once. He peed on the carpet a few times. But he did start to understand the routine. It finally got so hard that I gave myself a pass. I was sick. I was in school. We don't have to do this right now. I gave myself about a month until graduation was over and said I'd try again then if I felt better. Screw this idea of you can't go back. I must be willing to own up to my misjudgments. We're going back to diapers.

Well, right on time, the day after graduation I was feeling better, and feeling excited about moving on with my life. But I was still exhausted from a long weekend. I said to Andy that morning, "I don't want to potty train today. I'm too tired. We'll start tomorrow." Then I went into the bedroom to get him a diaper and remembered-- most of his diapers were falling apart. Finding one that's in good enough shape to wear is kinda hard. So much easier to just put underwear on him. So we did it! Potty training went great that day and we continued on. He did a lot better and I did a whole lot better!

Like I said, within a week he had made quite significant progress. He still had occasional accidents, but the biggest problem was that he still wouldn't tell us when he had to go. But we would put him on the potty regularly and he would go. Then all of a sudden this weekend, he just started telling us. Over the past few days he has told us many times that he has to go, and sometimes he even beats us to the bathroom. He can do most of the work himself-- pulling his pants down and everything. But he still of course requires supervision.

This process has been such a wonderful parenting adventure. I had to grease up my old parenting skills of being really in-tune with his signs and cues, following my instincts, and balancing sensitivity for him with my own knowledge of what is best for him. The biggest lesson I learned, though, was to always own up to my mistakes and misjudgments and that Peer will respond best when MY attitude is right.

Finishing Strong

I graduated with my MA in Theatre from Cal State Northridge on May 18th. It was a very exciting time. I won't officially be done until I write my thesis, but since it is unknown when that will happen, I decided to walk early and celebrate my accomplishment.

This is Dr. Kim, or AJ as we call her. I spoke of her earlier. She is the head of the graduate program and she has been extremely influential and important in my life. Major inspiration. I credit her with nearly all I have become as a scholar and she has also greatly inspired me personally. I could not have gotten through grad school without her. I probably would have never started at all. Here is us at Honors Convocation. I really don't know how I did it, but I did graduate with honors. This is very difficult for grad students, as the standards are quite high. My final GPA was 3.92. Amazing considering how hard it was for me and how much I grew as a student and scholar.

This is me with my colleague Mary and Dr. John Swain. Dr. Swain is definitely the toughest prof in the department. All of the faculty were challenging, but Swain always had the heaviest workload and had high critical standards. I learned a lot from him. He noticed my honors medallion at graduation and commented about it. That made my day. His giving me a 99 on my final term paper of my graduate career also made my day. I didn't think he ever gave 99's to anyone. Mary is a wonderful friend with whom I started this program 4 years ago. In fact, one reason why I really wanted to walk this semester is that many of the students walking were ones I started with, so it was especially meaningful. Mary had to do prerequisites like me (only a lot more) and specializes in children's theatre, or TYA as we call it. She's awesome.

There's a lot I could say about graduation, grad school, scholarship, and my future, but I'll save the rest for future posts.... or for re-edits later, since I seem prone to do that.

A Sobering Blog

Today I hugged and kissed my little one more than usual and showered him with "I-love-yous" and spoiled him perhaps a little too much. Today I didn't care about the minor imperfections that often bug me or about the smallish concerns about my parenting ability. Today I simply celebrated the fact that my little boy is alive, is healthy, and that we can spend our days together.

Last night I had a dream that Henry Granju, the teenage son of a popular blogger mom I follow had died. The dream was so vivid, and I was so sad and couldn't believe this was happening. When I checked my email this morning, I found out that it was all true. This didn't come out of nowhere-- Henry had suffered a horrible brain injury as a result of the combination of a drug overdose and a cruel assault all within the same incident. I knew that although he had experienced some improvement, he recently had taken a turn for the worse and his life was in serious jeopardy. So he must have been on my mind... or perhaps it was a sixth sense that I occasionally do have. Either way, his death has really affected me.

It seems silly, really, to be so affected by this young man's tragic death. I don't know him, his mother, or their family. I read her book, Attachment Parenting, when Peer was a baby and liked it. I googled her and started following her blogs and on facebook. She never came out about her son's addiction until very recently, after his injury. While the tragedy of his injury and death would be equally as haunting even if I had read it as a tiny blurb in a newspaper, it has been very moving to read about the whole thing through the eyes of his mother. She tells stories about his life, his childhood and her efforts to help save him from his addiction. She talks about her feelings of guilt and inadequacy, her fears of judgment from other parents, and that those other parents might be right. She has given both medical information about his condition, and explored her anger at God for the horror that is happening to her son.

It's all been very moving for me. Maybe because I watched it all unfold daily. Or maybe because I identify with this mom. In some ways, she seems like a lot like me in maybe 15 or 20 years. She is passionate about parenting and we share a similar parenting style. Or maybe because if this could happen to her, then it could happen to anyone-- even our family. She has tried so hard to help her son, to guide him, prevent him, discipline him, do anything to prevent this from happening. She is a very good mom. But this still happened to her. It reminds me of cheesy sentiments that carry a lot of truth. Like how these things can happen to anyone, or that every day is a gift and you should cherish every moment with your children. Or how I must be the best mom I can possibly be and leave the rest up to God. And also that every druggie out there is not just a druggie. Even though many people who OD in essence do this to themselves (excepting, of course, in this case where the OD was coupled with an assault by horrible people that need to be brought to justice), they still have a mother who loves them and would do anything for them, even take the blame herself.

Rest in Peace, Henry Louis Granju (1991-2010), and may God comfort those whom you have left behind.

Vamanos!

My little boy loves little Latinas. There I said it. It's true. Maybe it's a fascination with Dora the Explorer (whom he cannot bear to watch on TV, see a picture of, etc. because he's too embarrassed), but the fascination has definitely extended to real live people. He enjoys playing with and socializing with little girls of his own race, but they are just people to him. Little Latinas are a totally different story. Case in point: today we were at the juice shop waiting for our order when Peer suddenly started cuddling in Andy's arms, unwilling to show his face. As if he was sick or tired or something. He never does that. Suddenly I realized. There was a little girl to his left and another to his right. Both striking Latina princesses. It's incredibly fun to tease him in this aspect. For a long time we had a Dora birthday card sitting around waiting to be mailed to his cousin. Every time he saw it, he would run into the other room. This eventually became a game, where he would ask to see it and then run away. Andy once asked him why he always ran away when he saw Dora and Peer responded, "Because I get so excited!"

We must come to grips with the fact that we live in a cosmopolitan society (something we like), and our child will probably not bring home a girl of his own race. I think we are being prepared for this at an early age! But until then we will definitely keep teasing him and I will cherish being the #1 woman in his life! (despite my pasty complexion)

What Should I Be When I Grow Up?

I had a really awesome heart-to-heart with my advisor a couple weeks ago. This occurred after we mutually decided to postpone my thesis proposal until the fall because of my heavy workload this semester. I don't know if you all know this, but my advisor, Dr. Kim is probably one of the most influential women in my life ever. Aside from maybe my mother and grandmother. She is amazing in so many ways. But anyway, she encouraged me not to rush and to really make the proposal good. She also encouraged me to be concurrently thinking about what my career plans are for after I finish this degree and really pushed for me to think about a PhD program. This is something I never really intended to do, but it is the focus and "purpose" of our program. I think I never really thought I was smart enough, but she seems to think I would do well. =)

She knows me so well, it's crazy. It's true that I don't really have much direction and I don't even really know what I'm going to do with this degree. But she encouraged me to take this time to think about it. She said something to the effect of not getting so distracted with a family that I lose sight of my full potential. Now this is a woman who is also a mother and has always been extremely encouraging of my family needs and so inspiring as a mother. She also nursed her child into toddlerhood and encouraged me to do the same even while I was still pregnant. But she doesn't think I'm the type to "only" do just the mom thing and said that the academic world would be missing out if I abandoned it. It was so encouraging to hear that from her. As much as I respect full-time, stay-at-home-moms, I agree that I've never really been that type. Even though I am a SAHM, I always seem to also be doing something else. School, directing a play, both. whatever. So I was very encouraged by her to hear confirmation that perhaps I should continue to pursue my creative/intellectual life while I'm raising kids. Still not sure about the whole PhD thing, but I am newly inspired to make tentative plans for the next few years.

My other reservation is that to me pursuing a doctorate seems to be another postponement or perhaps permanent retirement of my acting career. Not sure that I'm ready for that yet. Maybe because I never really knew I was giving it up? I always thought of myself as just taking a break to have a kid or finish my degree. So am I an artist or an academic? Beats me. I do find myself thinking about directing quite a bit, though. I think this is where my intellectual ideas really flourish. I get tired of writing papers all the time, but I do enjoy the intellectual pursuit of them. Directing is where the actor and the intellectual collide, for me anyway. So maybe I should think more about that. My colleagues at school say there are a few PhD programs out there that have a directing aspect to them. Maybe I ought to check them out.

What are your thoughts, people? What do you think I should do with my life? =) Seriously-- I'd love your feedback.

Poop Town

It seems that every parent has some funny poop story about their kid. Well, now that I have three, I might as well blog about them! I'll start from the most recent.

Diaper Fail
This happened last Monday night. Let me preface it a little by saying that we cloth diaper, as many of you know, and we love it! But after two and a half years of (literally) the same diapers, some of his pocket diapers have lost the elasticity around the leg. I'm speaking of Bum Genius, for all you clothers out there. I absolutely loved this diaper until very recently. I think I would try a different brand next time. Okay, anyway-- Peer was in the den playing while Andy and I were cleaning up in the kitchen after dinner. I peeked in on him when he got quiet and I noticed him in a weird position playing with something. But he's a toddler, so I don't take weird positions too seriously. So I went back into the kitchen and continued working. A minute later, with more urgency than I've ever seen on this kid, he comes dashing through the kitchen saying "I get some nose!" ("nose" is his word for toilet paper or kleenex) I looked in the den and there it was-- a huge gigantic poo-poo on the floor! His poop had escaped out of his diaper, down his pant leg and onto the floor. He came back from the bathroom with about two squares of toilet paper that he handed to his daddy. Poor kid, he was so sad! Luckily we have tile in that room, so it was easy to clean up. Andy reassured Peer that he didn't do anything wrong and that he did a good job by trying to clean it up himself. Sweet kid... stupid diaper.

Distracted Parents
I'm sad to admit that I do have a distracted parent poop story, but I guess it happens to the best of us. I can't remember if this was another diaper fail or what, but once upstairs when Andy and I were both looking at my computer for a minute, somehow Peer poop ended up on the carpet, after which he stepped in it, getting poop everywhere. The crazy thing is that it took us a minute to figure out what had happened. It was, of course, the smell that tipped us off. Cleaning this one up was a lot more difficult. But after a lot of scrubbing, there's no longer any trace of it.

Naked Baby
So once a few months ago, Andy took Peer's diaper off downstairs and let him run around naked for a minute while he took care of it. I was cleaning up the kitchen and all of a sudden I hear Peer next to me saying "poo-poo! poo-poo!". I looked down and realized he had squatted right there on the kitchen floor and pooped! At least I can't blame the diaper for this one...


I just realized that all these stories are in our new house... never had a poop incident in our old one. What's the deal with that?

Babywearing and Consumerism

So babywearing has been in the news lately because of a recent recall that Infantino had to do after a baby died in one of their SlingRider baby slings. As an avid babywearer, I can't resist the urge to rant a little on this topic. Babywearing is all about parent-child connection. The whole point of it is for baby and mother (or father) to be intimately connected, both physically and emotionally. The baby should be close and snug to the mother's chest. Their breath and heartbeat starts to form a beautiful rhythm. She should ideally be able to breastfeed in the carrier. The mother should be able to FEEL her baby breathing at all times, even without looking or touching. That being said, if its done right, the mother will be compelled to look down at her child constantly and gaze into his beautiful face, talk to him, and place her hand on his back and feel him breathing. In other words, babywearing, when done right, automatically lends itself to constant monitoring-- something not possible when baby is in a stroller or carseat.

If a carrier is made in such a way so that the mother can't have this experience with her child, then what's the point? If the mother wears her baby around her neck like a bag-- like a burden-- then that defeats the entire purpose of babywearing. Infantino obviously doesn't get it! They not concerned with enhancing the parent-child bond. Their only interest is in selling products to a market that they see as ripe.

There are some extremists who would throw the baby out with the bathwater on this one (no pun intended) and would advocate against all slings. This is ridiculous. Babywearing is a safe and beautiful way for parents to bond with their child and a convenient way to make life easier for mom as well. Check out what Mothering has to say about it. Let's just make sure that our motives for babywearing are right-- this includes being educated about the reasons for babywearing and especially educated about the safety of carriers. It should be a conscious choice-- not just another thing to throw on a baby registry. I never trusted Infantino products before this came out, and my suspicions have now been completely confirmed.