The Little Artist

Some serious painting with Daddy-inspiration.

I earned a Ph.D. and all I got was this hideous outfit.

Our Little Democrat

As a good politics prof, Chris has been obsessed with watching political coverage. And, because she is nosy curious and intelligent, Felicity has begun to learn all the names of the politicians and political pundits. So, a few months back, we were at Barnes and Noble and Felicity gasps and screams, "Mama, mama!!! It's Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton!" (Although it comes out as: "Mama, mama, it's Bawak Obama and Hi-yie Kintin") She had seen this and this, two children's books about Barack and Hillary. (Note: Barnes and Noble did NOT have a John McCain book, it wasn't my Leftie sensibilities that blocked her from reading about the other side of the aisle...)

So, she sat quietly and read these two books for nearly 45 minutes. And, by the end, she had developed quite an affinity for Hillary. She knows all about her now. And when she sees Hillary on television, it's like she's a tween at a rock concert.

Brace yourselves, my conservative relatives: Your little Felicity is a big Hillary fan.

On Being a Jewish Mother

It is supposed to be 56 degrees today, but it's very sunny and a bit chilly this morning. So, despite the fact that she has on 50 spf sunscreen, I thought the sun hat was necessary and, for good measure, the cardigan.

I think it might have been overkill if I followed behind her with a sun umbrella.

We have to draw the line somewhere, you know ;)

Daddy Needs a Time-Out

We've been trying to create some boundaries with Felicity lately involving appropriate language. Although I know it's normal, she is obsessed with talking about poop and pee and the answer to everything is one or the other. The kids at her daycare keep cracking each other up saying "Poop" this and "Pee" that. At the daycare the teachers respond to this by saying, "No potty talk." This is great because it has giving me and Chris a way to respond to her. Although it has made diaper changes more difficult.

This morning.

Me: Felicity, do you have a poopy diaper?
Felicity: That's not nice Mommy, that's potty talk.

But apparently the boundaries for appropriate language are now broader, and now there are certain words that land a child on the dreaded bench for a time out. I have not seen this in action, but I was able to infer it from this morning's car ride.

Felicity: Mommy?
Me: Yes, Felicity.
Felicity: Daddy said a bad word.
Me: He did?
Felicity: Yes he did.
Me: I'm sure it was an accident.
Felicity: No. Daddy said "The meeting is stupid."
Me: Ooohh. We don't say stupid do we. That's not nice.
Felicity. No. It's not nice. Daddy needs to sit on the bench.

DONE...well, almost.

I just turned in my senior grades. Still have one more class to do, but fortunately I have until Monday for that. Thank God. So I am giving myself permission to take a break. You know, tidy up my desk, write a bit about Felicity, look online for cute summer shoes. Basically, how I spend most days. Just kidding.

I had coffee with a current student of mine this morning. She is only 20, yet far more mature than I was at that age. She makes me feel old. And she makes me feel older when she tried to comfort me by commenting that someone we both knew was "our age." I corrected her and said, "You mean, YOUR age." To which she responded. " Whatever. You're ONLY 12 years older than me." At which point my mind goes into reality-check mode and calculated at record speed that when she was learning cursive I was doing shots on my 21st birthday. Twelve years= A LONG time.

But we talked a bit about the joys of my schedule and I have to say that even though this summer is going to be the busiest ever (read: going to publish like a madwoman or so I plan..) I pretty much have it easy. And I wouldn't trade being a prof-mommy for anything.

Take last night. It pretty much encapsulates how I spend my life. It was a get-together at a colleague's house for graduating seniors. Between bites of good chinese food, assisting Felicity with a lego project in the toyroom, and listening in on some conversations about what the seniors plans are, I was able to hear all about a friend's new book project, all about her new Bahai faith which sounds so cool, and all about how she negotiated potty-training. In between this I was privvy to discussion about Obama, a game of political jeopardy, and Felicity was entertained by doting college women.

All and all, I know I have it pretty well.

Dear Students During Finals Week,

Just so you know: If I haven't seen you during the semester during office hours AT ALL, and if you choose to come to my class late and, when you are in class, you slurp hot Starbuck's coffee, proving to me that you had time to WALK DOWNTOWN before class but NOT do the readings, and if you come to my office and sit down all smiles during finals week and tell me how much you enjoyed the class and how much you learned. I am just not going to buy it. You forget, my young students, that I once was a college student. I know your tricks. And, with the voice of experience on my side, I must inform you. It doesn't work. Just so you know.

Love,

Your Professor