What better way to celebrate spring and International Women’s Day than to throw a nice little peace rally over at the Portland Public Schools World Headquarters? So my friends and I are doing that, next Monday, March 8th at 6 p.m. in beautiful North Portland, Ore., at the BESC, 501 N. Dixon (2 blocks from the east end of Broadway bridge).

My friends, and the rally’s supporters, include (but are not limited to) a bunch of exceptionally cool and smart moms and our friends (yeah, as a matter of fact, they blog, too), Jobs with Justice, Whitefeather Peace House, Students United for Nonviolence and the Oregon Peace Institute.

Also the American Friends Service Committee’s Peace Building Program is endorsing our rally.

And the vets are speaking out, too.

(Add to the list of supporters: Recruiter Watch PDX; War Resisters League, Portland Chapter; and The Military & Draft Counseling Project. And my husband, Mr. More Hockey/Less War, himself.)

Everyone? Thank you for the support, it means a whole lot to me. Dear readers, I think it’s important to have friends and allies who love peace as much as I do, y’know? You want a little speech? OK, ready? I think that peace is something that people shouldn’t just want “in theory,” I think it’s something that people should practice and fight for every day, even if it’s just a little bit. And yes, I see no small amount of irony in “fighting for peace,” i mean, how ridiculous is that? I will, though. I will fight for peace.

I will also light my candles every day for our soldiers, both abroad and at home, and pray that they come home safely. I want us all safe.

So for me, “fighting for peace” sometimes means nothing more than raising my hand and saying, Our country is at war, children should not be on military bases.

I really don’t think it’s smart for anyone to try to get between mamas and their babies. A person could get in trouble doing that. Just sayin’.

So… so, so, so. It’s not enough I’m fighting my own demons, now i’m fighting other people’s demons, too. Wacky Mommy, Super-Hero at large. Uh, yeah. What are you scared of? Don’t be scared, hon. Work it on out.

Seriously? Yes. Seriously. I am upset about Starbase, about the need to throw a little peace rally/protest, it kind of pisses me off. I think it’s nice that it will be on International Women’s Day, but that isn’t, like, a comfort to me. I think it’s bullshit that women have to keep saying, No you can’t have our sons (and daughters, nowadays, too), no you can’t have access to the children. That is the bullshit that’s been going on since time immemorial, no?

Also, I’m speaking out in honor of my late friend, Terry Olson, who was just the coolest dude; my late father, who was a big ol’ 6 foot 4 pacifist (my mom jokes that he didn’t have to fight, “He just stood up and that ended it”); and my late friend David Johnson, who signed up to be a cook in the Army and instead died being a gunner in Iraq.

God rest all three of their amazing souls.

Anyway, if you are in or near Portland, Ore., USA and would like to join us, please do. Send me an e-mail or leave a note in comments if you want more details.

Peace, always, peace, love, peace,

— WM

(For more on the military’s recruitment of our students, see this article by David Goodman in Mother Jones.)

me to the kids in the car on the way home: “I want to make you as miserable every day about doing your homework as you make me miserable every frickin’ day about not doing your homework, see?”

the kids (silently to each other): Don’t make eye contact with that woman, we’ll be fine.

i rock at motherhood.

ouch.

Noted anti-war activist S. Brian Willson spells out why the school board should stop selling the US military access to elementary school students.

gosh, you can really use up a lot of geedee boxes when you’ve been squirreling away possessions like a family of squirrels hoarding nuts for ten years.

gosh.

finding all kinds of crazy stuff: lost earrings, stuffed animals, favorite sweaters, shirts and panties (bedazzled!), the “6” date for the magnetic calendar. But the best thing has been 10 years’ worth of pix of the kids and journals.

from the preschool days: my daughter made up a dance and called it “the African Fresh Melon Dance.” It was wild, you should have seen it — all gyrating limbs and a lot of hopping.

She also wrote her first book: “The Dinosaurs of You.”

She’s still writing, and dancing. So are we.

“I don’t dance anymore!” — Wacky Girl

xo

wm

now on my nightstand (and the coffee table, and stacked up on the floor, and in my car:

“Child Sense: From Birth to Age 5, How to Use the 5 Senses” was just released. It was written by Priscilla J. Dunstan (Bantam Books, 2009, $26, 303 pages). According to her press packet, Dunstan “burst onto the parenting scene” when she appeared on the Oprah show to reveal her “revolutionary discovery” that all babies make about five sounds to communicate their needs.

OK. I’ll tell you everything I know about parenting, and it all adds up to five, too:

1) Nurse if you can; don’t nurse if you can’t.
2) It’s not the terrible 2’s, it’s the terrible 10’s. Remember: They’re all different. They’re all the same, but oh my goodness, they are all different.
3) Try to find common ground with your partner, because eventually (if all goes according to plan), the kids will move out and it would be nice if you knew the person you were left living with.
4) First you’re thinking, oh my gosh! First teeth! She’s finally walking! We’re going to give her a pony for her birthday! Then before you know it, they’re screaming for money. My son, honest to Christ, just yelled at me, “We’d spend more money if you’d give us more.”

(Let us just pause for a moment to mull over that statement. “We’d spend more money if you’d give us more.” I am thinking, these are not children who deserve an allowance. Oh, no. Especially since their dad and I are the ones who got stuck cleaning out the frickin’ guinea pig cage last night.) (The class guinea pig is with us for the holidays. She is awfully cute, but the cage gets stinky.)

Where was I? Oh, yes.

5) They break your heart every day because they fill your heart every day. What with the guinea pigs and murderous African dwarf frogs and all.

And one more thing — as a parent, I firmly believe that you should take all of the credit, none of the guilt.

Next? “Sugar Blues,” by William Duffy (Warner Books, 1975, 255 pages). I have been wanting to read this book for years — Steve and others have highly recommended it to me, the lil sugar junkie. So I finally reserved a copy from the library, and it is a shredded paperback with the teensiest, tiniest print you have ever seen. I can’t read this thing. In fact, as I type this, I have to keep taking my glasses off and putting them back on, just to type and edit.

Pathetic, really.

OK. I’ll break down and buy a copy.

Next?

“Simplicity Parenting: Using the Extraordinary Power of Less to Raise Calmer, Happier, and More Secure Kids” was written by Kim John Payne, M.Ed. (Ballantine Books, 2009, $25, 235 pages). Really great book — I’m about halfway through, and have found several of the passages to be moving. I especially liked his comparison between the children of Asian refugee camps and the British children Payne worked with in the early ’90s. He has some insights that I appreciated about issues of control involving sleep, food and play. This one is going out on loan, along with the Dunstan book.

I’m still finishing “Water for Elephants,” it’s awfully good.

Have a great week.

— wm

My favorite Halloween post ever. have a good Halloween, y’all.

— wm

WTF? (“why the face?”) (what, you didn’t know that’s what it stands for?) Kid still sick, fever, coughing, asthma. and 2 kids in her class w/ swine flu. allegedly. (confirmed.) Doc’s office says Send her to school! I’m listening to her brilliant teacher and our equally gifted school secretary and keeping her home, thanks.

That is the lousiest advice the doc has ever given me!

Edited at 8:20 p.m. to say — yeah, big surprise. I’ve had a sore throat for a week or longer, now comes the fever. I’ve got whatever Wacky Girl has. My little sweetie is having to use her nebulizer — asthma is kicking our asses again. Fever is coming down with tylenol, but she just is exhausted. Still cannot believe that the “advice nurse” at the clinic told me, “Mom. Mom!” (may I interrupt to say, I’m not your mama, mama. People I gave birth to may call me mom. No one else.) “100 is not a fever, that’s normal. Even 101, 102. It’s when you get to 104.4…” (again, WTF?) “…that’s when there is a problem.”

Funny, see. Because the best advice I’ve ever received on kids and fevers (anyone and fevers, but especially kids, because they’re just so little) was from the same clinic. They told me that it doesn’t matter, so much, what the fever is — it’s how they’re acting that you should be concerned with.

THIS IS NOT HEALTH ADVICE FROM WM. I am no medical professional. Disclaimer: Sorry, I really am just guessing my way through life, asthma, our checking account…

So. If you have a child who has a 103 degree temp, but they’re keeping down food and liquids, they’re racing around the house, eh, you’re probably fine. (Call the doc anyway. They usually have some good tips on keeping hydrated. Because the fevers do sap you that way, as you probably already guessed.) However, if you have a kid whose fever is low — 100, 101 — you have a problem if they’re limp, listless, and/or have that grayish look (with us, it’s blue around mouth and under eyes, from lack of oxygen because of frickin’ asthma).

(Blue. Yes. It’s just so la-la-la over here, when cold n flu season sets in. And yes, we do get the high fevers, unfortunately, as you long-time readers might remember.) The asthma? The pneumonia? We’ve been dealing with that since she was one. The high fevers, with our boy? His entire life.

This is how I, myself, mommy of the year, diagnosed my then-3-year-old with double pneumonia: She had been kind of run down, was running a low-grade fever, was running slowly around the house. Sort of a jog. Not tearing around, like usual.

“I’m going to take a little rest.”

She snuggled down on the couch. Didn’t sleep, just rested, like she said she was going to, for about 15 minutes. Up and jogging again. I just knew. Took her to the doctor, who listened to her lungs. The one sounded a little “rattly”; the other was fine. I just gave her a look. And then insisted on a chest x-ray. Me, the girl who is anti-x-ray.

Both lungs, pneumonia.

The doctor, pointing out the patches, “See, that’s odd. It seems to be worse in the one lung and I didn’t even hear anything on that side.”

I wish my daughter hadn’t inherited the faulty-lung gene from my side of the family.

love you, wacky girl. get well soon.

mama

Reviewed today:

Really great books tonight. None of them match up with each other, so much, but that’s okay by me, if it’s okay by you? OK!

The new picture book “Zero is the Leaves on the Tree,” was written by Betsy Franco, with illustrations by Shino Arihara (Tricycle Press, 2009, $15.99). The book begins:

“Zero is…
the shape of an egg.
Zero is a number.”

The book goes on to illustrate zero, with colorful, almost old-fashioned art and lilting words. (“…the balls in the bin at recess time,” “…the bikes in the bike rack on the last day of school,” “…the ripples in the pool before the first swimmer jumps in.”) I can see why the littles like number books so much — they provide the reader with a sense of rhythm and order. Nice.

We all know that things sometimes get very much out of rhythm when a new baby arrives. Especially if you’re an older sibling who feels left out. Amy Krouse Rosenthal’s blank journal, “The Big Sibling Book: A Journal” (Potter Style, 2009, $16.99, pages) is aimed at those siblings, and will be a keepsake for the babies, once they’re older. How about… 1) stickers 2) lots of room for photos 3) funny, funny writing “prompts,” including “If you could ask your little brother or sister anything — and he or she could talk back — what would you ask? I am fond of journals and scrapbooks, and they don’t intimidate me (hello, I write and like to make collages) but I know that a lot of people freeze up when “expected” to fill a book. (Even if that “expectation” is coming from within, and is not required by law or anything, for pete’s sake.) This is a nice format, nice layout, and cries out to be scribbled on, filled in and stickered. Same author also published “The Belly Book: A Nine-Month Journal for You and Your Growing Belly” and “Your Birthday Book: A Keepsake Journal.”

One of the most precious things I found after we lost Dear Granny was a puffy pink “This Is My Life” journal that honestly was not her style at all. Not one bit. I opened it expecting to find blank pages. (As an artist friend of mine told me, when she changed the styles of blank books she was creating, “They were just too precious. People weren’t writing in them.” Once she made them shaggier, and not as fancy, then people started scribbling.) Dear Granny had written not just one or two pages, but page after page. Books like this can really mean a lot to someone else, later on. Maybe even to you. (Smiles.)

Now on to cooking. Did I ever tell you that I hate a vegetarian lifestyle? Hate. I tell my kids, That is such a strong word, do you really hate it? Or just dislike it?

I hate that I am a lazy vegetarian cook, let’s say that. And I happen to be a woman who is married to a vegetarian man and we are parents to two vegetarian children. I refuse to do vegetable croquettes with a variety of dipping sauces, a selection of salads, beans on the side for protein, limit the cheese but don’t get all crazy vegan and… It is not my thing, I’m sorry. If I did go to all that trouble, the kids wouldn’t eat it. They live on mac and cheese, peanut butter and… air. Luft und liebe. That’s right — love and air. Steve would be happy, but I wouldn’t be. I have struggled with this whole thing for years, as those of you who are regular readers know good and well.

Here is how things typically go when I cook.

Remember my son’s infamous quote? “You are the kind of bad mommy who never cooks for her kids”??? Which he said to me at the exact moment I was midway through cooking him a delicious homemade meal? (To his credit, he also told me another time, “You are a goody-good Mommy, I love you!”) Freakin’ kids, what are you gonna do, y’know?

It’s a little ridiculous. We Americans are the fattest people in the fattest nation on Earth, and I’m sweating this? (I don’t really know if we are the fattest people on Earth, I’m just making things up now.)

My point (and I do have one) is that today I decided to cook for me. Just me. I made a delicious pot roast with cipollini onions, baby carrots, potatoes, red wine, oregano, olive oil, salt and pepper. I’ve decide that if I want to retain what small amount of sanity I have left, I must do this occasionally.

I LIKE MEAT.

It. Was. Delicious. And I didn’t have to share with anyone. Steve made homemade pesto last week, and the kids gobbled that up with spaghetti. What did Steve eat? Hmm. I think he had a shot of vodka. Poor thing. Maybe I should fix him a Pop-Tart or something?

Thank you, Julia Child, for inspiring me, you Amazon temptress. I bought volumes 1 & 2 of “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” and I am in heaven. (There are vegetable, egg, cheese, bread and DESSERT items for my family, do not worry they will not waste away.) Really wonderful cookbooks. I can’t wait until they’re splattered with sauce stains and chocolate smudges. Ahhh…

Happy Sunday, y’all. BON APPETIT!

— wm

* we would make waffles for the kids. if we had any milk or eggs in the house, that is.

* note to self: grocery shop at least once a week.

* The Beverly Cleary Tour yesterday was bananas.

* at our house we don’t say “it’s a dangerous cycle” we say “it’s a dangerous psycho.” same thing.

happy Sunday, y’all.

— wm