Once again, I’ve been a neglectful blogger. Eh, what can I say? This thing’s here for my amusement, and sometimes I’m just too…amused…doing other things to take the time to post.

Still, I must at least post a few quick updates:

1. I’m pregnant. This time, it seems to be sticking (Today is 35 days post-ovulation, aka gestational week 7), and my body has responded accordingly. I’m getting big. Immediately, can’t-wear-my-normal-clothing big. With a little help from Target and Kohls, I have enough bottom half items to make due for a while, hopefully through the end of the summer. Baby was conceived in Japan (like you *really* wanted to know that?), and the due date will be sometime mid-March-ish. My calculations say 19Mar08, but the doctor might say otherwise when we visit with her on Friday.

2. Baby will likely be born in Vienna. Vienna, Austria that is (nope, not Virginia). Mike has been advised that the formal offer from the IAEA (intl atomic energy agency) is on its way — for a job that will move us to Europe for two years, with an option for a third year. You know those inspector guys they send to North Korea? And the ones they kick out of Iran? He’ll be the guy training them. Well, maybe not THOSE guys specifically (they’re the high-level, experienced ones), but the inspectors who are still early in their careers. Coolness. It pays to marry a brainiac.

Lots has happened, and I’m relieved to be home from all the summer travel. You mean I get to stay here? For at least a whole month? Yee-haw! I might even get a few travel pictures posted.

A new book by one of my favorite bloggers is now available on Amazon.

Motherhood is Not for Wimps: No Answers, Just Stories

After a couple of years’ reading Liz’s stories about Mary, the baralicious pregnancy, then the wonder that is Renny-Roo, I feel like I know these folks. They help me feel sane AND make me laugh. What more could a girl want?

(cross-posted at Maya’s Meanderings

Yes, I know — I haven’t posted in ages. I’ll start catching up before long, but this was just too good to not link.

~~~~~

Mary P. wrote a post that I wish I’d written — about parents’ attitudes toward their children and sex.

When I was a young married with a baby girl, our daughter’s father would joke that she wouldn’t be allowed to date until she was 35. Well, 30 if the prospective boyfriend was a member of the royal family. I’d laugh at his little joke, but it always annoyed me just a bit, though I wasn’t sure why. (The fact that it was feeble and repeated waaaaay too often didn’t help, but it was the actual content of the joke which bugged me.)

Not too long ago, some commenters on a blog I was visiting were speaking of the future dates of their infant girls. A couple of the daddy-types came out with the typical Big Protective Daddy comments. “The first guy to stick anything in her,” said one, “and I’ll stick something bigger into him.” (Charming, no?)

Here’s a thought that most parents of very small children don’t really understand:

One day, you will be the parent of an adult.

Go read the rest. Really, just go read it.

Still not wanting to? Okay, then I’ll tell you what sums it up for me:

Okay, now we’re coming to the crux of this post. Why did that stupid joke, why do those ‘protective daddy’ comments exasperate me so? Because they are based upon the assumption that females are passive recipients of sex. Females have no drives of their own, they have no sexual volition. They make no choices. If they are having sex, it’s because someone required it of them.

“My daughter couldn’t actually want to indulge with her boyfriend!” these parents wail. “It must be his idea, the filthy creep.” Well, I hope for your daughter’s sake that this isn’t true. I hope that the sex she has, happens when she’s ready, that it is joyful, respectful, mutually desired and mutually satisfying.

Just like you want for yourself.

***applause***

Since I’m not in the mood to blog any of the deeper topics I’ve had in mind (work and worth, parenting and punishment as examples), I’m going to blatantly steal from a post by Orange at Bitch PhD:

Oprah Winfrey recommends keeping a “grateful journal” in which you “list five things that happened this day that you are grateful for. What it will begin to do is change your perspective of your day and your life. If you can learn to focus on what you have, you will always see that the universe is abundant; you will have more. If you concentrate on what you don’t have, you will never have enough.”

1. I’m grateful that I will never date again. It’s almost second nature to add “if everything goes well” or “god willing” or some other disclaimer, but you know what? I’m not going to do it. I’m done, and I’m keeping this one. From the way this relationship works, I’m confident we’ll stay together as long as we’re both alive. And after that, if I’m the one left over, I doubt I’d be able to top him anyway.
2. I’m grateful that my daughter is napping well. That might sound like a little thing, but I’ll tell you, after a few weeks of off-again-on-again travelling, having her in her own room, zonked out to the world is a very. good. thing.
3. I’m grateful for my job. Don’t get me wrong. I actually hate my job (thus the upcoming post topic re: work and worth). I’d like to do nearly anything besides work in the family business. But, working in the family biz has allowed me to be the full-time caregiver for my daughter, and that’s priceless (cue the Mastercard ads).
4. I’m grateful for Monster.com Last night, I was talking about job thoughts and stress with my counselor, and as a lark, I pulled up Monster for Santa Fe. Guess what? I found a listing that had my background written all over it. Of course, I still have to (ahem) apply. And get an interview. And get a job. But it’s good to have a light at the end of the tunnel.
5. I’m grateful for my husband-to-be. I know, I know. That one’s so damned obvious, it’s as if I’m cheating. But this isn’t a repeat of item #1. In that one I’m grateful for something *not* happening, which is nowhere near the same as being grateful for something happening. He’s a beautiful man — seriously one of the best human beings I’ve met, ever. And yet, he seems to think the same of me. Every now and then, I wonder how the heck I snow-jobbed him into that delusion…then I remember that I didn’t. He knows me, not “me.”

Your turn: What makes you feel grateful today?

I finally had time to read one of the posts Lauren referenced, and I’m blown away. Molly did a fabulous job of explaining why it’s important to not allow having children to become perceived as a “non-feminist” choice:

I think that the far right, knowing full well that pregnancy and childbirth is something the vast majority of women will experience in their lifetimes, has hijacked the idea of childbirth and mothering. It’s a great strategy: make people think that being a mother automatically keeps them out of things like feminism, thinking for yourself, or liberal thought, and you win a whole lot of women to your cause. When the far right co-opted pregnancy as a sacrament, it essentially painted all mothers with the same brush: women willing to make the sacrifices of pregnancy simply because they just love sacrificing for a higher cause, whether that cause is propagation of the species or bringing glory to God.

Wow. Very well said. Read the rest of her post: Throwing the baby out with the bathwater.

Over at Feministe, Lauren wrote about the tendency of some (important word that is, “some”) child-free/childless feminists to look down their noses at parents, specifically at mothers.

A few good sound-bytes:

My identity is not defined by my parenthood, but my life is. Without a child I wouldn’t feel as obligated to work as much as I do, to avoid such debt, to secure meaningful assets, or to better myself or the world. I’m naturally one selfish wench who would rather not be bothered by real world ephemera, and I recognize that having my little one in my life makes me a better person even if he isn’t the only thing I strive for. As for other adults in my world, I hope that they have the decency to well-wish my child even if they don’t care for or love him. My parenting theory does not obligate a random adult to a stranger’s child, just hopes that they recognize that children are indeed little people who haven’t yet grown up and thus continue to make bad decisions.**

Not that I’ve turned into a philanthrope, mind you. I reserve the right to hate stupid adults.

Emphasis added. While a few commenters have taken exception to this phrase, I believe that I know where Lauren comes from here. Having a child in no way makes me morally superior to a person/woman/feminist who doesn’t have kids. In my life, having a child made me a better person. YMMV. I’ve said before that having a daughter has also made me a feminist at all — not “just” a “better” one.

In a nutshell, my theory of parenting is as follows.

Children: Little people making bad decisions.

Adults: Helping little people make less bad decisions.

Parents: Obligated to help, to the best of their ability, their little people make the best decisions they can.

This description is, IMO, worth typing up and framing. Or, if I were into that sort of thing, cross-stitching and surrounding with hearts and flowers to hang in the kitchen. (But that’s not my bag, baby.) I’m fond or telling people often, “I don’t see my responsibility as being to raise a well-behaved child. My job is to raise a highly-functional, emotionally healthy adult.” That just leads back to the same point: a parent’s job is to help a child learn to make good decisions (as the child is able and it’s age-appropriate), so that the child can make good decisions solo in the future.

Anyway, here’s the post: Little People with Poor Deduction Skills.

Take a look at the comments. They get a bit heated at times, but I largely find myself unoffended by them, more just informed to others’ perspectives. To the comment thread, I add my thoughts about assuming kids to be brats based on prior experience. (ZuZu talked about this one, and I don’t blame her at all. Besides, even if I did, that doesn’t change the fact that she’s completely entitled to an opinion!)

As a single parent, I take my daughter with me to many more places than most parents typically would. Simple example: I like to eat out. If I want to eat out, that usually means that Maya goes with me. Teaching her (and modeling for her) proper behavior in a public place has meant that now I can take her out even more than I used to. It’s not uncommon for one of those who glared as we entered to later approach and tell me how well-behaved she is in a restaurant. Reasons for this:

• Restaurants (or other “grown-up” places) are not strange to her, so it doesn’t seem odd to her to behave differently in a bistro than, say, McDonald’s.
• I don’t allow her to run around. Trust me, she would LOVE to do so. When we’re in an appropriate setting, I love nothing more than to let Maya wander freely and explore her surroundings. A restaurant is not that setting, and the rule has been, while people are eating, she remains in her seat. This isn’t negotiable, and she’s come to accept it. It’s also meant that a few times when I’ve wanted longer for dinner (and her patience has run thin), we’ve ordered dessert so I could finish my wine, damnit.

Expectations are the name of the game, folks. When/if we hit the point where Maya cannot/will not behave in an “adult” setting, she won’t go. But I feel pretty safe that she gets the basic idea so far.

Speaking of expectations, I’ll sometimes run into the grumpy kids-are-by-nature-a-pain-in-the-ass types of people while we’re out and about. Sample conversation:

Grumpy makes eye-contact with Maya, then me.

I smile. It’s a habit. I’m extroverted that way.

Grumpy: How old is she?

Me: (gives age)

Grumpy: She must be a handful for you.
(Implication: kids are, and therefore your kid is, a total pain in the ass)

Me: Oh, she’s a blast. We really enjoy each other’s company, and I’m lucky to have her.

Grumpy wanders off muttering something to the effect of “just you wait.”

These sorts of conversations seem meaningless on the surface, but I consider them important for two reasons:

1. I just might open Grumpy to the idea that not all kids are pains. I might not, but at least Grumpy learns not to diss my kid to me.
2. More importantly — MUCH more importantly — Maya starts hearing from a very young age that I like her. It’s one thing for a child to know her parents love her. That’s expected, so it’s really not a heroic feat. It’s more powerful for her to realize that I not only love her, but I like and enjoy her.

We will continue to wander in public places, and I’ll eternally learn what behavior is or isn’t appropriate in different places, often by trial and error. But, at least we try, and we’re not shut-ins.

How sad is this? I’m sort of looking forward to this second date this evening. (Yeah, I know. Don’t get excited or anything.)

But much, much, MUCH moreso? I’m looking forward to an evening minus a nearly-two, screaming her head off, mad because she doesn’t get what she wants, teething, pissy toddler who’s normally a sweet, funny angel. Who IS this child?

Please tell me this is about the teeth and is temporary.