childbearing hipster

Go. Now. Go.

So, My So-Called Life is now available to watch on Hulu.

I didn't really watch it the first time around. Here's a funny story about that: my sister's friend Jaime used to work where I worked, and she's a couple years younger than I am, and one day she asked me if I watched MSCL the previous night, and I was like (and this kills me now, what a snot I was) "Um, no, because I'm a grownup. I watched Friends". All these years later, that sounds absolutely hilarious and horrible. At the time it made perfect sense, because, god, I was far too mature to watch a show about high school.

Of course the truth is that the show would have killed me to watch. I was only a few years out of high school myself, it was too soon, the wounds of those years were too fresh, and frankly, the show is too real. Someday my kids will ask me what it was like when I was a teenager and I might as well just point them to the collector's edition DVD set, because there was nothing that happened on MSCL that didn't happen in my actual high school life. Those kids dressed like I dressed, talked like I talked, moped like I moped, and had voiceovers in their head, just like I had. Watching a couple of episodes for the first time a few years after it originally aired, I was non-stop cringe and cry. I couldn't actually watch the entire series. It was still too soon, wounds too fresh, high school too real.

Yesterday I watched a couple of episodes while folding laundry, and it still hits hard, but in a different spot: this time, it was the parents who made me cringe. Oh, the kids still resonate. But now, instead of being totally focused on those kids and how they were my exact past, I couldn't stop watching the parents and understanding that they are my exact future (minus, one hopes, the bad haircuts and incredible Mom jeans). And so again, I can't actually watch the series. It's just too real, and the future's close enough as it is.

Speaking of Victoria Beckham

If you've got kids, you have to screen Spice World for them. Netflix it now!

I admit, I saw it in the theater when it came out, and I loved it. I thought it was silly, funny, smart (yeah, I said that) and self-deprecating. It was like a technicolor Hard Day's Night, which, you'll recall, was another effort to cash in on the possibly-fleeting success of a group of funny-looking pop singers whose potential for longterm stardom was debatable. The plot is impenetrable, the songs mediocre (yeah, those Beatles songs are classics now, but there wasn't any reason at the time to think they'd end up that way).

But as much as it's like that movie with that other band, it's also a lot like The Muppet Movie: there's a lot of capering going on, a lot of bizarre and inexplicable detours, and a veritable shitload of cameos that couldn't possibly have been calculated for the film's actual target audience (Bob Geldof?). And like the Muppets and their cousins on Sesame Street, Spice World is peppered with oneliners that only a grownup will appreciate, but that leave the film clean enough for the pre-tweens for which it was created. And the message? Makeup and clothes are fun, but personal relationships and making your way in the world with dignity and integrity are more important (plus: Girl Power!)

And it was worth every penny of the buck-fifty I paid for the VHS tape at the thrift store just to relive that hilarious extended sight gag where Posh Spice minces around Dance School Boot Camp in a camouflage tube dress and stilettos. LOVE HER.

(Seriously, Victoria: if you're ever in the Bay Area, cocktails are on us)

Weekend Update

They Didn't Do DST Where I Grew Up

"What time is it?"

"Eight o'clock."

"No, what time is it really?"

"Eight o'clock. I changed all the clocks."

"No, I mean what time is it in real life?"

"...."

Go Outside And Play

It was ridiculously nice today, like, no-sleeves, naked babies nice. Like "you really do get what you pay for in California" nice. We (mostly not me) added some new plants to the herb garden, so local friends should be prepared to come over with bags and baskets and leave with tomatoes and all the herbs you can handle. There might even be strawberries eventually. I blogged about it at Babble.

After gardening, after playing in the sprinklers, after an al fresco lunch and a little quiet time we went to the school down the street and Maggie practiced pedaling while Molly rode hell-bent-for-leather around the track on the vintage Schwinn Stingray Pixie she got for Christmas, courtesy of our cousin Nick (who should keep his eye out for a Schwinn Hollywood, I'm just saying. Green, if at all possible). Dug flew his plane and caused a little boy to ditch his grandpa and run around waving his arms, chasing that RC plane as Dug dove it and dipped it across the soccer field. I sat in the shade working on a new hat for Dug, which, this being the Bay Area, he'll still get plenty of use out of despite the warm-ening of the weather.

This Band Could Be Your Life

Okay, maybe not. But I'm in love with this little French pop duo called Soko and I don't see why everybody shouldn't be. They're like a Gallic Rilo Kiley crossed with a wonderful Australian band I love called Frente!. They perform in English and the accent is so adorable that it gives me diabetes. You can download "I'll Kill Her" here; the Myspace site only streams.

Facing Fears

Last week Molly accidentally banged herself in the forehead with my lemon reamer. The pointy end. Hard. I can't say I didn't warn her. This evening I was making a sauce for the pork tenderloin Dug was grilling and Molly really, really wanted to help. I handed her the reamer and the lemon and she froze. I said "If you want to help, I need you to squeeze the juice out with this".

Deep breath.

"Okay. I can do this."

And she did. And it was a hell of a tenderloin, I must say.

The Case For Television

Earlier this morning the girls were wrestling around and Molly got a little too rough. Daisy hollered "Hey! ¡Cuidado!" Molly immediately backed off and played more gently.

Just a minute ago I sent them into their room to put away some toys. Molly went in first, and then called out "Maggie, ¡ayúdame!" Maggie stopped what she was doing and trotted down the hall to help.

Is the takeaway that if I want something done, I should ask for it in Spanish, or is it just that Dora and Diego are insidious?

"So what's Santa going to bring you? (No, really, I need to know)"

We are not inclined to overdo it at Christmas time. Okay, we went way over the top last year, and thankfully Molly remembers every gift as though it all happened yesterday, but in general we have a little bit of an orange-and-a-peppermint-stick-and-a-shiny-penny kind of philosophy, given that we'd really like the holidays to be about more than just things, and given that we are fairly indulgent on a nice evenly-spread basis throughout the year.

There's one drawback to holiday restraint, though, and it's this: I have no idea what to get the kids. Other than an ACTUAL orange, peppermint stick, and shiny penny, I'm really at a loss. They have everything they want, within the boundaries of what we allow them to have. Noisy electronics are the only untapped frontier, and I'm not sure we're ready to go there yet (although when a friend mentioned she bought a Vsmile video game console for her preschooler, it did sound awfully interesting). If we were just going out and buying up the joint, it would be easier. When you're trying to limit yourself, you want it to be AWESOME.

Asking them is useless. All Molly claims to want are whichever Disney Princess dolls she doesn't already have, and all Maggie wants is to parrot whatever Molly wants. And they really do not need any more dolls, never mind princesses. I really, really want to not fulfill this request of theirs.

But what do you do when the only thing your kid consistently asks for is something you don't want to get for her? And when your reasoning isn't really much more than "You already have one like, fourteen"?  I get that Christmas is sometimes irrational, but I also want to instill something a little more...something.

Combo Platter

Sometimes we have a stretch of time where nothing happens, but then in hindsight I realize lots of little things happened and other things have been playing on my mind, so here's that. 

How Entourage Has Enriched Our Family

The quickest way to combat a meltdown in our house is to "hug it out" (minus, of course, the "bitch" part). And it works: it is hard to stay frustrated and cranky after pausing for a giant bear hug.

Yesterday after a very tearful time out Molly came up and asked if we could hug it out, and we did. Then Maggie wanted to hug it out, and Molly observed that we were making a hug sandwich: she and I were the bread, and Maggie was the peanut butter and jelly.

Floradix Comes In Pill Form

I'm obsessed with Floradix, which is basically the modern day version of Lydia Pinkham's tonic. Most stores only carry the liquid version, which is fine, I think it's delicious, but today I found the pills in stock at Whole Foods and snapped them up for travel purposes. Now I can be awake and alive on tour.

I Will Never Not Love Trader Joe's

Specifically, this week, because of the organic mini peanut butter cracker sandwiches. Holy crap, they're good. TJ's comes up with awesome new products just frequently enough for me to forgive them when something I have learned to rely on disappears forever (whither the thin-sliced sirloin, bitches? That was the foundation of four meals a month!)

The G-D Disney Princesses

Molly is so singlemindedly adamant about being Mulan for Halloween. I will regret until my dying day the detour into the Disney Store "just to peek". You know, those costumes sell in used condition on eBay for pretty much what they sell for in stores? You know, the cost of a pattern and fabric and trim and whatnot is pretty much the same as what the damn costume costs anyway, plus it'd take me half a lifetime to make?

The worst part about it is that I really, really want to get it for her. And I know she'll wear the hell out of it.

Why Can't I Have Stripey Tights?

Really, why are women's tights of the thick pantyhose variety, mostly black and neutral, instead of the thick cottony colorful tights little girls get? I want some damn rainbow tights. And I don't want to have to order them from Sweden or some damn place and pay $40 a pair. I want them for five bucks, same as the kids' tights, same as the boring "opaque control top black" women's tights at Target.

Big Faker

After a lifetime of responding with either "Yeddo!" or "I dunno!" whenever you ask her what color something is, Maggie finally gave in this week and admitted to knowing her colors. All of them. All at once, she started answering correctly. She was thrown off by my turquoise earrings, though: "Is boo. No, is geen. No--boo". That's how I know it wasn't just lucky guessing.

The Last Knit

This little cartoon on YouTube is the funniest thing I've seen in a while (and probably the funniest cartoon about knitting, ever).

Now, the children are soaking wet from a "we can brush our teeth ourselves" gone horribly wrong. So have a good weekend.

You go, Asia Carrera.

Here's a true story that's stranger than fiction.

Once upon a time there was a nice adult film star named Asia Carrera who got married and had a baby and then got pregnant again. Then her husband got killed in a car accident.

Then she delivered her second child unassisted at home. Because she's a total badass.

Best of luck to them.

My hypocrisy, part 1, 976

We listen to XM satellite radio in the car (no need to debate this question for us, XM is what the car came with, and that's the end of it).

I listen to E! True Hollywood Stories sometimes, and I listen to a lot of the rock stations.

When Molly requests it I'll switch on XM Kids--which is by and large pretty great. It's not like Radio Disney with the cheesy tweeny pop, it's for younger kids. They play a wide variety of children's music, so one minute you're grooving on Laurie Berkner and the next minute you're kicking it oldschool with Raffi, and they'll spin some showtunes and sometimes they play stories and have special guests, and it's awesome (except for the "DJs", which are stupid and not funny and even Molly is all "Mama, why is this lady talking so much? She CRAZY!", and XM Powers That Be, if you're reading this, you need to know that if I ever get my hands on Absolutely Mindy, she'll be Absolutely Toast).

So sometimes, and I really love this because while I don't mind kids' music so much I really love it when they like "grownup music", XM Kids will throw in a fun non-kid song. "My Doorbell" by the White Stripes, perhaps, or something like that. It's cool.

So, now I'm going to tell you what's not cool.

You know  Jack Johnson? That latter-day frat boy with the acoustic guitar and the flip flops, like, I'm sorry but you cannot be rock and roll if your toes are showing, so good luck with the neo-hippie stoner folk rock. He's not totally repellent, but he does not yank my chain one little bit. And we already had Dave Matthews. So, he's not even NECESSARY.

So Ol' Buddy Jack does the soundtrack to Curious George, and between seeing and loving that movie and Noggin's nonstop spin of the "Upside Down" video, ownership of the soundtrack was a slamdunk for us. So, okay, that kind of music normally drives me nuts but in the context of children's music it's actually spot on. Nevermind that it's virtually indistinguishable from his "grown up" music--all his shit is about love and trees and the ocean, adding a monkey in there is not a stretch. And I'm happy to admit that his cover of "We're Going To Be Friends" is sweet.

So today I turn on one of my favorite XM stations and what comes after The Postal Service? Fucking Jack Johnson "Upside Down". Not only are they playing him, which has a what the fuck? quality all its own, they're playing his SONG ABOUT A CARTOON MONKEY. On my ALTERNATIVE ROCK STATION. Chocolate, smack into my peanut butter.

Should I write a letter, do you think?