An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination: A Memoir

An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination: A Memoir by Elizabeth McCracken

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I laughed while reading this. Yes. I laughed out loud while reading a book about someone's miscarriage. I'm not a cold-hearted uncaring person. But, Ms. McCracken's recount of her sad loss includes the ups and downs of a pregnancy in an alien land, rural French countryside. The great anticipation and the unconditional love an expectant mother felt are clearly captured. However, I was anxious while reading the book because there was no surprise that the most heartbreaking end will come.

I'm sure mothers everywhere worried about their unborn child during those nine long months. For me, the thought "what if I did this, it could harm her like that...." An Exact Replica extend that worry to the umpteenth level. Ms. McCracken continued to ask herself, "did I do this, and my baby died." Where can one go from there? Ms. McCracken laid out how she's coping in this funny sad book.

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Cinderella Ate My Daughter

Cinderella Ate My Daughter: Dispatches from the Frontlines of the New Girlie-Girl Culture by Peggy Orenstein

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Cinderella Ate My Daughter confirms everything that I believe in. As a worried mother who's raising a little girl in the current commercialized and sexualized environment, it is nice to have an authoritative figure putting all my concerns on paper. But, Ms. Orenstein didn't give any 'how to' suggestions to prevent the ills of the current society. I don't think it's her intention with this book anyway.

I do appreciate all the research Ms. Orenstein put into this book. The efforts and details that guided her inner conversation throughout the book also registered in my own inner discussion.

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I was a Bad Patient

This is my open letter to the Mister.  "I'm sorry.  I was a terrible patient"

Let me explain why I needed to apologize.   I recently had to undergo oral surgery.  On the scale of 1 - 10 (1 being a paper cut, 10 being a triple bypass) my oral surgery fell around a 5 in my opinion.  I was anaesthetized without needles, just some powder under the tongue.   That was cool.  But it gave me a false sense of lucidity during that time.  (Note to self for next time, do not update Facebook while going under).

Anyway, the Mister had to drive me there, wait around for a few hours, drive me home, put me to bed, help me to the bathroom, pick up my prescription, and take care of whatever I needed while I sleep of the anaesthesia.   During my hours of sleeping, half waking, half mumbling, one of the Mister's duties was make sure I take my med according to schedule.

Of course, I had to be difficult.  Not that I meant to be.  But, in my semi-state of consciousness, I wanted to know what kind of drugs the Mister was giving me.  I wasn't satisfy with his answer "this is what the doctor prescribed."  I wanted to know what it was for, why was I taking it, what was it going to do to me.  Everything someone who was not a doctor or a pharmacist would have no clue.  I did remember the Mister taking out his iPhone to look things up.  Oh, I'm sorry I made him do that.  What's worst, I threw a paper bag with the prescription across the room.  My tantrum at that time matched anything my little girl can muster.   The Mister had the wisdom to walk out and let me sleep it off/pass out.  He did come back later and I did take the meds as I'm suppose to.

In my defense, even in my most lucid state, I hate drugs.  I don't take aspirin or cold medicine or anything that I believe to only mask the symptoms.

In any case.  E: thanks for being patient with me, even though I was such a bad patient myself.

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Labyrinth

Labyrinth by Kate Mosse

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I truly enjoyed Ms. Mosse's Labyrinth. Books with strong female leads are hard to find, but this one had two. Their strength and wit guided the plot along nicely even though the plots are set in two very different historical time periods. They are characters that you can fall in love and root for.

While reading the Labyrinth, I found myself digging through Google maps and Wikipedia to find more information about the time period and location that were described in the book. I'm glad to find the geographic locations, structural descriptions, battles involved in the book were real and exact. Ms. Mosse definitely did her research. Kudos.

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Are Computers "Blue"?

I just started reading Peggy Orenstein's book, "Cinderella Ate My Daughter". One of the topics she discussed was gender specific toys. Or that boys and girls gravitate toward different types of toys. Boys play with trucks and balls. Girls like dolls and pretend kitchens. My little girl is still too young to gravitate toward any gender specific toys. I'm still the gate-keeper of what toys end up in her toy box.

While reading the book, I remembered a peculiar incidence couple of months back. Several of my fellow agency folks and I volunteered to take a group of 4th graders to the Museum of Moving Image in Queens. We had to wait around for nearly an hour for the pizza that we promised them.  During that time, we had the chance to interact with them. They were attending a charter school so they all seemed like very bright and well-educated kids. The boys and girls were keen to show us their new books and pencils they bought at the school book sale.

However, I noticed something during their free play in the classroom. There was a table with several nice iMacs. A group of heads huddled around the computers watching and commenting on the couple of other heads playing with the computers. One computer had a puzzle game. The other one had Google searches flashing by. When I looked closer, all the heads belonged to boys. There was not one girl in the group. I turned and asked some of the girls flipping through their new books, why are they not playing with the computers? They said, they don't like computers.

Wow, they are self selecting and denying a tool that is integral to their future lives. Why?  How?  At what age did this happened? That just made me sad for my gender.

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Ei Yuv Vu

That's my little girl's version of "I love you".

She's a 28 month old genius (that's what the Mister and I believe).  She can recite the entire alphabet, can count up to 30 without help, her current favorite number is 100.  She can say 'chocoloate please' (chocolat prease), 'thank you' (sank you), 'cat' (in both English and Chinese), 'daddy's cell phone', 'bowling movie' (bowling moosie, aka "King Pin"), among other phrases.

So, I started teaching her to say the three little words that mommies everywhere can't wait to hear, "I LOVE YOU".  I cuddled her close, looked straight into her sparkling eyes and said in my most sing-song voice, "say 'I Love You, Mommy'".  She looked right back into my eyes with a hint of mischief and said "Ei yuv vu, Mommy".  "No no", I said.  "I LOVE YOU".  Making sure that I ennuciated every word and making sure no hint of chinglish leaked through.  Again.  "Ei yuv vu", she replied.

Hmm..., I thought, how can she have difficulty making the sounds "I Love You"?  She was able to say "Jupiter" and "trapezoid" after hearing those words a few times.

Again I looked into her now smiling eyes.  "Honey, say 'I Love You'".  She stared right back at me with more mischief, "Ei yuv vu".  Wiggled free of my hug and ran off.

I turned to the Mister: "I think she's messing with me.  I think she knows that I want to hear it and she is refusing to say it correctly."

Can this 28 month old be so devious and cunning?  I guess.  She is our little genius.

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Say No to Valentine!

It's that time of the year.  Everywhere I turn, I see red and pink.  Hallmark telling me to send a card.  Party Stores tell to through a party.  Dunkin' Donuts is hawking pink heart-shaped fried fat doughs

The Mister is not allowed to buy anything for Valentines Day.  The little one is still too young to know the difference between one day to another.  So I don't have to worry about her.

There are many many blogs and articles talking about why a specific day set apart for love is a dangerous and insincere.  Me?  I look at it from the point of a amature economist or a frugal mom (same difference).

Roses - those things cost too much on normal days.  On this commercial driven day, they cost double to triple the price.  It's not worth it.  There's no added value from one day to another.

Chocolates - I love chocolates, I love chocolates that are market-priced on a normal transparent market.  Not in a bubble market created by bunch of forgetful husbands/boyfriends who think they need to make up for not appreciating their wives/girlfriends on the 364 days of the year.

Jewerly - Don't get me started on the whole scam that is diamond.  I don't see the point of these decorative baubles.  They don't keep me warm.  They don't fill my empty stomach.  They don't put the roof over my head.  Don't need them.

If we are going to spend money on stuff.  I want those stuff to have value or create value.  Books, educational toys, or even simply, save the money for something that truely has value down the line.

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I'm someone's Mom!

I know I'm a mom.  My little girl is over 2 years old.  But, it dawned on me again in the last few days, that I'm someone's mother.  Animal mothers on the nature shows always sacrifice to protect their offspring.  They hunt, they kill, they starve just so their little ones are fed, protected, and thrive.

Since I'm a human mother living in the suburbs surrounded by SUVs and supermarkets, I don't have to hunt, kill, or starve to make sure my offspring is nourished.  Still, I felt what it meant to be a mother animal.

One day, I was sharing a chicken noodle soup from a can with my girl.  There are limited pieces of chickens and carrots (the good stuff).  She loves the chicken and the carrots.  The noodles, not so much.  So, I picked out all the chicken and the carrots for her.  I ended up with just the noodle and soup.

On pizza night, I give up the sausage and pepperoni because she loves those.  Instead of a pizza with the works, I get plain pizza after she picks out all the meat.

These are just little things compared to taking down a gazelle.  But, now it's chicken and sausages.  Later, what else?  However, I gladly do this and any other sacrifices I have to make, because I love my little girl.

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No "Pink" Please

"Pink" is not just the color. I have no beef with the color pink. It's the state of mind that pink represents. At least the state of mind of putting my little girl in frilly dresses and insisting that she must act like a little girl, whatever that is. I won't do it.

When I was pregnant and was pretty sure that I was having a girl, people told me "it's gonna be great to have a girl, you can dress her up in pretty dresses." It's their perogative to put their little girls in whatever pink lacy dresses with pink bows in their non-existent hair. Me? No thanks. My little girl wears whatever outfit that's on top of the dresser draw that still fits. Most of them are hand-me-downs from wonderful cousins and aunts.

Another "Pink" problem I have are toys. Toys for girls are not just pink, they are generally misogynistic. Take a stroll down the girl toys section of the local Walmart, you'll find pink baby dolls, pink Barbies/Bratz with unrealistic physiques, pink pretend kitchens, pink handbags with makeup kits, and pink pretend princess dresses. Where are the pretend toys for doctors, engineers, race car drivers, and super heroes? In the boys aisles.

Many blame the entire Pink-washing on evil advertising execs and mass marketing schemes. But, as an advertiser/marketing industry grunt, I also know, if the dollars from the consumers don't flow toward "Pink", "Pink" will go away. Normal consumers still have the ultimate power, our wallets.

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