You're Going to Eat That???

Just the other day, the lovely Rima wrote a post wherein she mentioned her unabashed love for radish sandwichs. Radish sandwiches?? What is that, I asked myself? Ever considerate of her reader, Rima described the delicacy: Wonder bread, butter, sliced radishes.

No offense, Rima, but that sounds kind of yucky. However, who am I to judge? After all, my favorite sandwich is a tid unusual too.

For years I have been teased about my adoration of peanut butter and tomato sandwiches. They are scrumtious. My entire family eats them. We also have been known to enjoy pb and apple, pb and banana, pb and raisin, & pb and honey. You could probably put peanut butter on anything and we'd eat it with relish (not pickle relish, happy relish, though pickles and peanut butter is said to be quite tasty too).

I wonder what other wierdo sandwich recipes are out there? What's your favorite sounds-disgusting-but-is-delicious sandwich? Come on, play along.

The Good, the Bad and the Elephants

It's amazing how as mother, you can experience the highest highs and the lowest lows just in the span of a few short hours.

Today started out beautifully. The sky is blue, the sun is shining, it is warm. The perfect day to spend outside.

We had to get up a little early this morning to make it downtown for Ladybug's ear tube check. I was actually showered. Kids were dressed and at least one of them was fed. Traffic was fairly light. No problems.

Even the appointment went well, which was a nice surpirse. Ladybug has had several health problems in her short life of 18 months and has a resulting strong aversion to doctor's offices. She has an even stronger aversion to having her ears checked. I can't blame her. She had an ear infection for 6 months continuously and of course she associates ear checks with pain. This time though, she only cried at half her usual volume and for about half as long. She didn't even kick the doctor while he looked at her. And Sweet Pea did a great job of helping me and entertaining Ladybug.

Since the weather was so wonderful and since we were downtown and thus already halfway there, I decided to take the kids to the zoo. Sweet Pea loves, loves, loves the zoo. Of course all kids love the zoo, but his love for it is a little above average. Ever since he was very young, he has been entranced by animals. His favorite books are animal encyclopedias and he has an amazing bank of animal knowledge for his 3 and a half years. He can identify animals I have never heard of, such as echnidas and aye ayes. He knows which animals live where and is quick to point out any discrepancies in puzzles and games, like when the puzzle pictures a black bear next to a lion. He knows what they eat and how they use camoflogue. It will not surprise me at all if this turns out to be a lifelong love and he becomes a zoologist or vet.

We haven't been to the zoo in several weeks because of winter, so Sweet Pea was thrilled to be going. We arrived a little early, but the kids entertained themselves while waiting. Once the gates opened, we headed in and began our usual route. I had forgotten the stroller so I alternated between carrying Ladybug and letting her walk and she did a surprisingly well job of staying with me.

Sweet Pea's favorite animal is the elephant and so we had to go see them first. He had brought one of his stuffed elephants along to show the real elephants and was excited to see their reaction. Some workers were doing clean-up in the elephant habitat and we had to go into the elephant house to see the animals.

Inside the elephant house is a glass wall that looks in on the large elephant holding area. It is a cement-floored space with huge metal barred walls and doors. There were two elephants in the enclosures. One was standing in the back swinging his trunk back and forth. The other was pacing and periodically rubbing his trunk against the wall. We stood there a good 10 minutes watching them. After a few minutes, Sweet Pea said in a very sad voice, "Mommy, those elephants want to go outside." Then he told me he thought they were bored. It was such a precious moment. It was so affirming and heartwarming to hear my son's empathy for these animals and his sweet yearning for them to be happy. I was so proud of him in that moment. My sensitive and loving boy.

Just as we were leaving, the zoo keepers let the elephants outside and we stopped to have a snack and watch. The two giants literally ran out of the building into the open air and one let out a huge bellow with his trunk held high in the air. You could see how excited and happy the creatures were to be outdoors. Sweet Pea felt better now that the elephants seemed pleased and he enjoyed his snack while watching them.

We continued on through the zoo and at each exhibit, Sweet Pea lingered much longer than usual. He has always sped through everything, wanting to see and acknowledge each animal, but not spend too much time with each one. This time though, he really wanted to study them. He noted to me where each animal lived (grassland, jungle, etc) and asked detailed questions about them. He was so intent on each one. What a difference a couple of months makes. The visit was so wonderful and I was reminded of how much I enjoy these moments with my children and how I will miss them when I go back to work next year.

Around 11:45, both kids started to crash and we headed home for lunch. Sweet Pea doesn't like to eat breakfast and he had had several snacks throughout the morning, but he was starving. When we got home, I made their lunches, but it was too late. He had already reached the point of no return. He got very upset because his pizza was different from his sister's and threw a huge screaming tantrum. He threw himself on the floor, wailing, and rolled around for a good 15 minutes. I tried to pick him up and show him that his pizza was the same as Ladybug's, but he was too far gone. He caterwauled for the next 30 minutes and it was all I could do to get him calmed down enough for nap time. What a different boy he was from just an hour earlier, though it really was my fault for not having packed more snacks or leaving earlier than we did.

So, this morning was a study in contrasts, but that's OK. You have to take the good with the bad and in this case, the good certainly won out.

My Daughter, the Crab-turtle

Do they make muzzles for children?

If so, I need one. And some type of straight jacket thing where the child's hands are restrained would be helpful too.

You see, my daughter, Ladybug, thinks she is a snapping turtle/crab hybrid. Instead of a rosy, smiling mouth, she sports razor sharp teeth which she wields with great accuracy. Instead of hands, she has pinchers and she is not afraid to use them.
Every time Ladybug gets mad or frustrated or is told no, she lashes out either by pinching or, now, biting.

The pinching has been going on for several months. She gets upset about something and whips those little fingers out and gives whoever is closest a good pinch. If no one is close to her, she will pinch a toy or the wall (which is pretty darned funny).

Yesterday, she added biting to her repertoire. Three different times during the day, she got mad at her brother and bit him. Bit him hard too.

Obviously this has to stop. We have been using time outs and diversion, but are getting nowhere fast. I know this is normal behavior to a certain extent and I know it stems from frustration and will likely resolve itself when she is more vocal, but I am not comfortable ignoring it. I am especially eager to nip the biting in the bud since she will be in daycare in August and I don't want her to get kicked out for biting.

Ladybug is very high-strung and always has been. She was angry from the get-go and has always had a temper. We used to think she would grow out of it, but I am beginning to think it is just her personality. She will have to learn to control herself at some point.


Nothign we have done has worked. Timeouts and stern no's have had no effect. Diversions don't work. Short of a muzzle/straight-jacket combo, I am at a loss. Any suggestions?

Just plain tuckered out

I am pooped. Our house smells like paint fumes and my hands have blisters from a pruning saw.
In an insane flurry of home improvement, hereto unknown in these parts, my mom and husband painted our kitchen over the weekend and I stripped, sanded and painted a kitchen island. Then, my mom and I pruned our three humongous holly trees to half their size They used to reach the second story windows. They were full and bushy. They are now crazy looking skeleton trees that barely reach the middle of the first story windows. Then, as if that weren't enough, we pruned the crepe myrtle, cut down four bushes entirely and took out an entire mystery tree in the front yard. To finish things up, I took off the screens and washed our kitchen windows and shutters inside and out.

I am exhausted. And since today I have to make a batch of Easter bunny cupcakes with coconut fur, marshmallow ears, and jellybean eyes and nose and clean up the house for an afternoon playdate, I just don't have time for an involved post. Though this seems to be getting there.

In the spirit of taking it easy, I am stealing a meme from lord knows where.

Name one thing you do every day: Teeter on the brink of insanity. The only thing aside of pharmaceuticals that keeps me from going batty is reading and so, in an effort to stave off a straight jacket, I read. Right now I am reading Three Cups of Tea. More on this in a day or so.

Name 5 things/people that make you feel good: Chocolate, good conversation,warm sunshine and a blue sky, my children when they are not screaming like banshees, an evening curled up on the couch with my husband and Lost.

Name 4 things you love to eat but rarely do: Well, I love diet soda but can't drink it anymore because I have Interstitial Cystitis. Sometimes I have one but I usually pay the price later. I am not supposed to eat chocolate either, but that's just damned impossible. Ice cream I love but rarely eat. Pizza. Cookies. German chocolate cake or just about any flavor cake. Donuts. Can you tell I have a sweet tooth?

Name 3 things that remind you of childhood: El Chico, Old Spice deodorant, motel swimming pools.

Name two things you wish you could learn: I would like to learn to play the banjo. That would be cool. I would like to learn to make yeast breads--I just never get them right and they are always hard as rocks.


Tag, you're it: Missy from The House of Flying Monkeys, Rima from Rimarama Mama Drama, Jennifer from Thursday Drive and Marge at Marge in Real Life.



That took way too long.

Molly's La Casita

When I graduated from college in 1995, I was a little, OK a lot, directionless. My parents were going through a divorce after 20+ years of marriage. I had recently broken up with my boyfriend of five years, the one I was supposed to marry after graduation. I had no real idea of what I wanted to do and I had not applied to graduate school, which would at least have given me some buffer time. I went home to
Nashville that summer, spent a couple of miserable months, and promptly moved back to Memphis where I could bide some time hanging out with friends and getting my groove on.

I initially got a job waiting tables at a hoity-toity French restaurant. They never should have hired me in the first place. I was way out of my league and quit almost immediately. Several doors down the street was and still is a small, independently owned Mexican restaurant, Molly's La Casita. The food is OK, some dishes better than others, and the margaritas are strong. I walked in one afternoon, sat at the bar, and asked for an application.

As I filled out the application, I tried to scope out the place. I noticed the waitstaff had on shorts and t-shirts. That was a plus. One was smoking a cigarette and talking with a customer. They all seemed happy. Everything was very laid back. There would be no pretentious winelist nonsense here and no starched white aprons. I I thought it looked like a good place for me.

After I handed over the application, the owner, Robert Chapman, came out to speak to me. He was warm and friendly and made a joke about my being a graduate of the high falutin' college a few blocks away. I liked him immediately. He hired me on the spot and I started work the next day.

I worked at Molly's for about five years, a long time in the restaurant business. Of all my non-teaching jobs, it was the best job I have ever had, much in spite of itself. I didn't make a ton of money; I could have made much more elsewhere. Waiting tables itself is hard, sometimes demoralizing work and there were quite a few nights when I thought I couldn't wait to throw in my apron. I went home every night half covered in salsa and smelling like an enchilada. I suffered rude customers and an occasional lousy tip or walk-out. Once night a drag queen almost hit me. By closing, I was always exhausted and would sometimes go home and have nightmares about being in the weeds. Despite all this, it really was a great job.

What made Molly's so special was that it became a family to me when my own family was in so much turmoil. The owner, Robert, and manager, Kelly, were half-friend, half-parent figures to me, always ready to give advice or offer help if needed. The staff was a small, close-knit group who spent most of their free time together and with other area restaurant staff. We had a core group of regular customers who were as much a part of our life as we were of theirs. We were invited to their parties and they to ours. People cared about one another.

Even the kitchen staff, often a totally separate entity in a restaurant, were friends with everyone. One of the cooks was nicknamed Pig. I used to make little pig figures out of the chip basket and frill picks and set it on the line for him. He'd just laugh and keep slinging tacos. I used to drive Prentis home some nights and he'd have me drop him off just before the railroad tracks, just on the edge of his hood because he didn't want to put me in danger.

Another of my favorite employees, Traveler, was mentally retarded but had been taken in by Molly's and given a job which could have been done better by someone else, but remained his out of love for him. Kelly even helped him find housing and manage his money. The kindness with which Traveler was treated is indicative of the type of place Molly's was and I am sure, still is.

I have not been to Molly's in years, but if I close my eyes, I can still conjure up the smell of the chips, the sound of the dishroom door banging as Traveler barreled through it, a bin of dishes in his hands, and the feel of the hot and humid Memphis air blowing through the open front door. I can hear Kelly calling someone a nimrod and Pig, barking out orders in the kitchen, tickets piling up on the line, his gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose and his face shining with sweat. The down ramp to the lower level dining room made a certain sound every time you walked on it and the tile floors were impossible to sweep clean. I can taste my favorite shrimp quesadilla or the burger, which, oddly, was one of the best in town. I can feel the icy headache from a maragrita downed too quicky and Butch, the bartender's slightly diabolical laugh as he posted his latest top 10 list. The old computers were the type where you had to enter a numerical code to modify an order and I can still remember some of the PLU's. I can tell you the table numbers and recite most of the menu. I still have my tray that I had marked my own with a lizard and which, when I left, was signed by everyone and given to me as a gift.

My time at Molly's will always remain one of the best times of my life. The other day, I was reading a Memphis blog and read that Robert, the owner, had a stroke some time ago. He survived, but I don't think he is actively a part of the restaurant's day to day life anymore. This makes me very sad. I know Molly's is still open, and I hope it remains as it was, a welcoming and oddly nuturing way station for those who need it. It is much loved.

Bedfellows-Edited--Again!

I posted a previous version of this a little while ago and it was not a complete version. That's what happens when you try to write a meaningful blog with a toddler around.

Moving from micro to macro here....

One of the blogs I read every day is The Field Negro. A few days ago, Field posted a rebuttal and link to another blogger who had posted her thoughts on the existence (or lack thereof, really) of racism and what she, as a white woman, views as the problem with black people.

I checked out the woman's site and she has what I would call some angry views about the world. She's angry at blacks, Muslims, liberals, communists, socialists, etc. etc. I didn't see any posts about illegal immigrants, but I am sure they receive her wrath too. If you go look at it, make sure to read the comments and her responses to them. They are more telling, really, than the original post.

I don't want to try to repeat her beliefs here, because it would take awhile and they seem more hate-filled than well-reasoned. Let's just say she doesn't understand why African Americans harbor any feelings of oppression and doesn't get why they might be upset with American society. She also proclaims a hatred for the Muslim religion and its adherents. ALL Muslims, not just radical fundamental groups.

She has the two issues on the same page and in looking at her blog, I was reminded of the work of New York Times columnist and Pulitzer Prize winner Thomas Friedman. Friedman has studied and written extensively on terrorism and America's relationship with the Middle East. A few years ago, his work was featured in a news program documentary. I can't remember the specifics. I have a recording of it somewhere, but it is in one of my gazillion school boxes. In it, Friedman interviews young people in the Middle East and asks them what they think about America. It was riveting.

What you hear especially in the young men's replies and what Friedman also writes about in his essays on the subject, is that these young Muslim men feel oppressed. They feel shut out of economic opportunity and trapped in third world poverty. They feel they have no future. They are aware of the wealth we all enjoy in the US and they resent that they may never have the opportunity to enjoy such wealth because of the economic structure of their countries and lack of opportunities.

What struck me especially hard was that these young men feel emasculated by the U.S. and Western culture. The Arabian empire was once one of the greatest empires on earth. Our earliest civilizations sprung up in the Middle East. These young know the long and important history of their land and people and they resent that they no longer hold the power they once did.

When you combine these feelings of inferiority and oppression, you get rage and rebellion, hence the violence we know see being played out on the world stage.

I suggested to this blogger that perhaps she should read Friedman's work as it might inform her views of race in the US. Friedman's explanation for terrorism also holds true for the young male African American population in the US, albeit on a smaller scale. Thankfully, these feelings have not resulted in the horrific violence they have in Middle East, but they fall on the same spectrum.

I am a white female, but I think I can say without a doubt that African American men have also felt oppression and lack of economic opportunity. They also feel emasculated by white society. Isn't it the same basic feelings that Friedman asserts drive young Muslim terrorists?


This whole line of thought is not new theory. Anyone who has studied race and class knows that they are intertwined and in fact, inseparable. The ruling, monied class has always used racism as a way to control others and ensure their power and control over the economy. One of the most stark examples can be found in the history of the Belgian occupation of Rwanda. When the Belgians colonized Rwanda, they systematically and deliberately stoked tribal differences between Hutu and Tutsi, deeming one tribe superior over the other in part on the basis of skin tone and skull size, helping to ensure the Belgian control over the region. This social engineering resulted in a massacre fueled by those racial tensions. The portrayal of Africans as being beneath whites, dumb and savage helped justify slavery. Some would argue that the media's portrayal of "dangerous and armed" black men serve to keep African American men in their place today. And the reason for the tension between the African American community and the Hispanic community is based on economics but plays out as racism. The Hispanics compete with the African Americans for jobs. This is threatening, of course, to both sides and results in both communities exhibiting fear and dislike of the other.

And how about the example of all examples--the Holocaust? The German people resented the wealth of their Jewish compatriots in a time of economic crisis. If the economic crisis had not occured after WWI, the people may not have been as easy to convince of that the Jews were the "scourge of the earth."

Is radical Islam really that different from other race and class rebellions? Yes, it is nominally based on a religion, but isn't what really fuels it the economic and class issue? And yes, it is horrifically violent and many would say inhumane, but when you get down to the causes how is it really that different from revolutions in Cuba and Central America, the Black Panther movement, and, dare I say it, the American Revolution?

Obviously there are other factors at play in the Middle East, but I think it is interesting to compare the two. Don't we, the US, have reasons to attempt to control economics in the Middle East, just as we have had in the past in attempting to control slave labor? Aren't the results the same?

Thoughts?

And please know that I am in NO way defending radical Islam. I find their tatics reprehensible and grotesque. I think their actions are evil. There is NO excuse for the violence and extreme hatred toward the west and Israel.
I am just looking, very detachedly, at the reasons behind it.

Choosing the Tools

First of all, thanks to everyone who weighed in on my last post. I have a lot to consider! Everyone who pointed out that needy kids are in every school are exactly right and I am sure that if I take the job in the rural school, that I will have plenty of kids to love. And really, I probably ought to take that job simply because it would be easier than an inner-city school and I will probably need easy my first year back. I can always transfer when my own kids and family life is less demanding. And it would be kind of a challenge for me to take the rural job. I've never taught in a school like this one, so it would be interesting to see the differences and the similarities. Kids are kids after all. It's just not the demographic that I most want to work with, but it might broaden my horizons too. Hmmm. Much to consider.

Now, to fill you in on a related worry...

I am worried about putting my money or kids, rather, where my mouth is.

We currently live in Knoxville. Conservative, very religious, 86% white Knoxville. The school my kids are zoned for is one of the best elementary schools in town. It is something like 98% white and upper middle class. Our neighborhood is almost all white. I can go days without seeing one African American or Hispanic person. We live in the land of soccer and SUV's.

And I don't like it. I do not want my kids to grow up in a bubble. I don't want them to think that this place is reflective of the larger world. I want them to have friends who are different from them. I want them to experience other cultures and ways of life. This is so, so important to me.

I think in order to be prepared for the larger world, children need to know things different from themselves. They need to learn tolerance and acceptance of people and ideas who are at odds with them and this is hard to do when you are only surrounded with folks like yourself.

Plus, people from other cultures and backgrounds have so much to offer you. You can learn so much from them. I want my kids to have this experience.

Someday in the next few years, we will move back to Nashville, in part because of the diversity issue. When we do, we will not be able to afford to live in such a great school zone. My kids will go to a school that has more problems then the one here and it worries us.

The questions is, how do you choose what is best for your kids? What is more important; that they got to a diverse school or that they go to the best school academically? It's a tough call. We all want the best for our kids and we want to give them the tools to succeed. But what do you do when you have to choose which tools to give them?

This issue is also a test of my dedication and belief in the value of public education and it is a test that can directly impact the quality of that education for us all. If all the upper-middle class, highly educated parents took their kids out of the public schools, those schools are all but doomed for failure. Indeed, this has happened in other larger urban districts such as Los Angeles.

The upper middle class and educated parents are the ones who know how to work the system and demand excellence for their kids. They are the ones who call their school board, who are in the office talking to the administration, who are attending conferences. They are the ones organizing the PTO's, giving money and helping fundraise. Schools depend on the funds and support that these parents give and it improves the school for everyone.

In my old school, we had a group of parents who all fit into the upper middle class, educated bracket. They had the option of moving out of the county to wealthier areas with excellent schools, but they chose not to and it was a deliberate, reasoned choice. These parents decided as a group to stay in their neighborhood schools. They planned it together, in fact. They were committed to the neighborhood school, kept their kids in, and worked together to improve the school for all the students. They served on the PTO, organized fundraisers, volunteered in the classroom. They met regularly to discuss ideas and ways to improve the school. It was a noble decision and I really think their kids were the better for it. I know the school was.

Without these parents and their children, the schools become institutions that serve only the urban poor and immigrant children. Children whose parents are too busy making ends meet to attend after-school functions. Children whose parents do not have much of an education themselves and are often fearful of schools and teachers. Children whose parents do not speak enough English to communicate with the school. Children who live in single-parent households where they are expected to work themselves to contribute to the household income.

In addition, when the upper-middle class pulls their kids out, the remaining children are not left with many peers who raise the bar for everyone. They have no peer role models and the level of discourse in the classroom lowers a little. This is the argument folks make against academic magnet schools and it has some degree of merit.

And let's not even talk about the message it sends to kids when you tell them you don't want them in "that school" with "those kids."

What it all comes down to is that public education only works to its full potential when we all buy into it.

So, do I buy into it enough to put my kids in a school that needs help and then work as hard as I can to change things? Yes, I think I do, but it sure is a hard choice.