Suburban (in)Sanity

Back-to-School: An Introvert's Lament

The kids head back to school tomorrow, and I'm feeling solidly meh about it. A bit down, even. The eldest is 12 (almost 13) and entering 8th grade. The youngest is 10 and entering 6th. Where, exactly, has the time gone? Seriously. Have you seen the time? All of it?

But back to feeling blah about school.

It's not even that we've had a lot of fun lazy days this summer, though we have. I made it a goal to make sure we did a lot of traditional "summer" things, so the kids and I made a list at the beginning of the summer and then happily checked off items like "go for ice cream" and "go for ice cream to the other ice cream place" and "skip stones" and "fill the entire driveway with chalk drawings." I feel like the kids are getting older and older and these silly fun things get forgotten in the constant hum and beep of technology - be it texts or Instagram or video games or you tube.

 

We've had plenty of activities, and plenty of downtime, an introvert's most treasured activity, amiright?

 

And when I hurt my back mid-summer, I was supremely grateful my kids were home so I had help just managing the basics of everyday - taking out the dogs, laundry, dishwasher. Things I do a hundred times every day and didn't notice until excruciating pain hit. They helped out a lot.

 

But I'm not just melancholy because I'm losing my two minions (though they are very good minions, exceptionally well-trained if I do say so myself.)

 

And, this will surprise my spouse tremendously, it's not just that I will miss my "wake up whenever I wake up"ness of the summer, at least the unscheduled part of it. Although I will miss that quite a lot, too. ;) For the record, I consider it payback (still) for all the nighttime nursings and up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-with-a-child-who-won't-stop-screaming. The first nursed round the clock every 2 hrs his whole first year (and some beyond). The second went a full year stretch where she'd wake for 2 hrs in the middle of the night for no reason and just wail. Piteously. Even when I held her. Which I did, clutching her with a desperate grip, going slightly insane in the process. Let's tally that...carry the one, mumblemumble, add ten, yeah. I still haven't earned out. 

 

The real thing, though, is this. As an introvert (remember, classic introvert definition: I need alone time to recharge my mental/emotional batteries. Extroverts recharge by being with people. Introverts do not.) I find time w/my immediate family to be similar to alone time (though not quite exactly like, which presents challenges sometimes like now when I had to say "um, child, I'm writing something. Can you please stop interrupting me?" Though an extrovert writer would likely have had the same issue being interrupted every 47 seconds...) I feel most energized when I've had adequate (read as: LOTS OF) time to just do my own quiet thing.

 

But once the kids go off to school, I'm stuck interacting with the world again. The big, exhausting, gigantic world. No more talking to the kids in the checkout line so I can avoid conversation with the clerk. No more making vague attempts to get the kids together with their friends, only to be relieved when their friends are unavailable and we can just hang out at home. Again.

(for more on this "cancelled plans phenomenon" you MUST see Gemma Correll's awesome Map of the Introvert's Heart, which popped up all over the place, but in particular on this Fast Company article.)

 

Because I'm a writer, and the primary at-home parent to boot, I semi-force myself to get out of the house regularly while the kids are in school because otherwise I have a tendency to start surfing petfinder and fantasizing about how many cats one can obtain before one is considered "crazy cat lady." Or going entire days without having used my voice at all between 8 AM and 3:30 PM, which is nice and all, but at some point gets a wee bit unhealthy.

 

So I send off to school tomorrow my buddies, my introverts-in-crime[1] (oh how helpful it was to have married an introvert! We had all the genetic fixin's to get us two lovely introverted children!) My armor against the big gigantic world. My excuse?[2] My quiet (usually, except when I'm writing, groan) companions. Oh, and my minions. I suppose the dishes can wait until they get home...

 

 

[1] A corrollary to this is the fact that there is quite an adaptation curve for the kids w/school, since they are both introverted. Luckily they attend a small school, but it still takes a few weeks for them to come home less than exhausted, which can be exhausting to survive as a parent.

[2] Yeah, do I use them as an excuse sometimes? Maybe. Is that healthy? Probably not.

It is my duty and my privilege

To see my children off to sleep each night.

This has not changed since they were babies. The older is now 9. The younger is now 7.

I was reminded of this fact when talking with a friend earlier in the week who is going through a challenging period of many nighttime wakings with her 14ish month old. I, too, went through that time. And one sanity-saver was knowing that it was worth it. It was my duty and my privilege to see my children off to sleep. And I was just one parent with one (or two, or more) baby walking the halls with her at night and all over the world there were other parents up like me, walking, tending, nursing, listening, cleaning up the puke and administering the ibuprofin and worrying and waiting and hugging and back-rubbing and...

Tonight, the younger needed cuddles and calming, having reached hysterics over a ... just one of those things when the world doesn't quite match her expectations and she lost it. So she needed not much talking, lots of cuddles and back rubbing, and a judicious application of doggy, who listens best to me so it was important that I was there to entice doggy into the bed. Dog is smarter than most humans and instantly read the situation right. She stretched out out next to the distraught girl, long dog, lacing her head over the top of her hip and in perfect range for much ear scratching by the 7 year old.

The 9 year old didn't need much tonight, but as we lay together, I learned more about his day than I could have through any other means. I heard about the hockey stick that broke today, the various theories as to the perpetrator's identity. Then more discussion where it becomes clear that there wasn't really a perpetrator, nobody was in trouble. And he played Apples to Apples. And the vocabulary test was pretty easy (and he got a 94% and I could reinforce the importance of the studying he had done with me and the 7 year old earlier in the week.) And he asked about the power outage during the day, and whether we had water during that time (we didn't, as we are on a private well.) So I explained that when the power goes out, the well doesn't pump, the house is out of water. Except for each toilet's one flush-worth of a tank, as well as the reverse osmosis tank, which led to a conversation about RO water and why we have that kind of water, and the kind of refrigerators where the water comes out the door, which we don't have, and how mommy wants one. And then he sang a song about coconuts.

You know, none of this was particularly earth-shattering. None of it was absolutely essential. If we went til tomorrow, the next day, the day after, and didn't talk about any of these things, it wouldn't have mattered in the slightest.

Except that it matters. It matters. And it's worth it.

Think of the power of that moment - when your body turns from wakefulness to sleep. For some (my darling husband, for example) that change happens in an instant, mere minutes after laying their heads down. For others of us, it comes later, after our brains process most everything we went through that day, or the ideas in our minds play out in a helter-skelter fast-forward, jumping from idea to idea, no logical sense other than the sense our brains need to prepare for the journey that is sleep.

And it is my duty, and my privilege, to accompany them on the start of that journey each night.

Some things that have caught my attention

In a week full of editing (I'm editing a middle-grade sci-fi novel I wrote in 2009 with the hopes of independently publishing it in the near future), tooth loss (another one for the 9 year old, he says it's 11 down. I lost count at about 6) and an actual honest-to-goodness warmup (temps topped 40 two days in a row. Melt, snow, melt!) I've read another great bunch of articles. A quick recap of some of the best:

• Through My Eye, Not Hipstamatics is a great rebuttal to an uproar that occurred when a photo shot with an iPhone app won third place in major photography contest. This is one of those articles that is really interesting for the way it highlights the fact that technology is changing *everything* - including the way we produce and perceive art.
• I loved this article that talked about the Groupon Superbowl ad. I thought the ad was thought-provoking, but as soon as it finished I turned to my husband and said, "Wow. That's going to piss a lot of people off." I think this coverage helps explain the hipocricy behind the uproar. Interesting.
• I liked this BlogHer post about whether friendship comes with expiration dates, but what I really wonder is how has Facebook subverted what is probably a natural fact (the natural "growing apart" that many friendships go through as one enters and leaves various life stages.)
• This article about a mayor of Bogota, Colombia and his unorthodox ways of solving societal problems was fascinating. 
• But the article that hit me the most profoundly was this Newsweek article by Lisa Miller (who is quickly becoming my favorite news writer) about the complexities of mothering and working and just getting things done in today's chaotic and "self-service" environment makes us all just a wee bit more crazy. Oh my gosh she captured all of my pain in passages like: "Health-insurance forms, 401(k) planning, personal banking, tech support, expenses, gift returns—these have become existentially excruciating, a maze of portals and passwords." and this quote from another mother: "I have thousands of little ants crawling up my legs. I have thousands of things to check into and to manage."

Ahh...here's to hoping your week isn't full of thousands of ants crawling up your legs. I know mine is.

The importance of the Chorus

Like all 30-something women who are not dead, I am a fan of Glee. The music, the high-school hijinks, the whole thing just represents perfect television escapism. But something has bothered me from the very beginning. There are only a few stars on the Glee show choir. Rachel, Kurt, the loveable lunkhead whose name is totally escaping me. Even Puck, whose actor has a music career outside of the show, is generally relegated to chorus parts.

See, in life, I think part of me has always aspired to have the lead role. To be the top, to carry the show. But life's reality, as I've lamented about in my core story and perils of being a generalist posts, is often different than whatever my aspirations or expectations might have been. Not that this is a bad thing, because none of my whole parenting experience fit with my vision of my life as a parent, but my children changed me in beautiful ways and helped me become a different, better, more important me, I think. This is a very good thing. And I'm not a center-of-attention girl, I get self-conscious sometimes, I don't always want the pressure of having something interesting or important to say. I blush easily.

But for my kids? Don't I want them to shine? To be the star? To be the kids that everyone else is talking about? Their school is preparing a play for all kids in grades 4 and under. Each of my children has a role they'd like to have, they've been talking about it for days. Both have exceptionally good memories, so in my world this means they should aspire to have big parts, lots of speaking lines, because memorizing the lines will be cake to them. And then they can shine. And be the stars. Right?

Uh. They don't need to be the stars. We're not "starry" people, much. I mean, each has their moments of hamming it up with friends and family, and each has some comfort and confidence in a group - both are features I treasure because it took me quite a long time in my youth to come out of my shell enough to do either of those kinds of things. But they don't need to be the stars.

Because, you see, without the chorus, Rachel's notes just hang in the air. Kurt's voice is like nails on a chalkboard. And loveable lunkhead sounds thready and misty, one upper respiratory infection away from anihilation. The chorus rounds them out, fills up the sound, builds the background so that Rachel can break away with the melody and take our breath away.

And every so often, one of the other kids gets a solo.

I find myself wondering if in life, like musical-show-choir-based-television-shows, the role of the chorus is more than just the role of the background, but rather the build-up, the support, the structure of the whole. That was certainly the role of the Greek Chorus.

Among other things, the wikipedia article states:

In many of these plays, the chorus expressed to the audience what the main characters could not say, such as their hidden fears or secrets. The chorus often provided other characters with the insight they need.

So, shouldn't us backgrounders be satisfied with our roles in the background, with occasional forays into solo parts and center stage responsibility? What about you? Are you a member of the chorus, or do you play one of the leads? Are you comfortable in that role? Have you ever wondered if you were mis-cast?

Are we all waiting for our solos?

The Perils of Being a Generalist

I’m a generalist. Or, as some like to say, a know-it-all. I’m sure they mean that in the nicest sense. Right? I know a little bit about a lot of different things, and my interests take me here and there and back again, just like Bilbo Baggins.

But as I seek out my place in the world, particularly in this somewhat unusual online world we live in (not unlike that facebook group called “All of my friends live in a small village called facebook in my computer”) I find that there doesn’t seem to be a place for us generalists.

Everybody seems to have a “platform.” You know, a thing their blog is ABOUT. My Core Story blog post from the end of Reverb10 was an attempt to put a finger on what my blog is about, and even that I dodged.

The successful bloggers out there all seem to have these tight, focused messages (and while I’m a generalist, I’m not stupid and prefer success to failure.) Their blogs are about SOMETHING. Not everything, as my blog seems to be. I’m like that dog in UP, squirrel!

While this sort of thing doesn't normally bother me, in light of Gladwell's concept of taking 10,000 hours to become an expert at something, being an expert at nothing does kind of concern me a bit. Should it?

In no particular order, I’m interested/involved in:

• Breastfeeding (I’m a La Leche League Leader, so I have shown the ability to not just be interested in an area of content, but pursue additional information/study/apprenticeship to become a mini-expert in some subjects. Breastfeeding is one. But I'd never want to JUST do breastfeeding counseling.)
• Pregnancy and Childbirth
• eLearning – this is what my degree is in (well, sort-of. It was called different things back then. You know, when dinosaurs roamed the earth.)
• Children
• Childhood
• Parenting
• Being nice to your kids
• School
• Gifted Education
• Developmental psychology (as it relates to above subjects)
• Gardening/native wildflowers
• Vegetable gardening
• Cooking (the Six O'Clock Scramble is one of my favorite sites)
• Vegetarianism (whole family is ovo/lacto/pesce vege and have been since 2002)
• That awesome bread I’ve been talking about for the last few months
• Family
• Adult friendships (that whole “finding your tribe” thing)
• Asia (lived there in High School, have only in the last 2 years reconnected with that whole group of friends via facebook. For years we all just lost track of each other.)
• Cats
• Dogs (whippets in particular)
• Space
• Science Fiction
• Astronomy
• Meteors
• NASA
• Writing
• Art (fan of Magritte, Dali, Monet, Seurat, Pissarro, Rodin, Caillebotte, Frank Lloyd Wright, and a bunch of other random things including that guy who does the cool multiple-wood use furniture at the local art fair each spring.)
• Piano
• Guitar
• American Idol (recent convert)
• Glee

So what do you think? Is there a place for me, for us generalists on the big, bad web? Can we be about anything when we’re all about everything?

(image linked from the Art Institute of Chicago's Webpage.)

Core Story

Last post of Reverb10, and I find myself a little melancholy. I have viewed it as a challenge to write something new every day for this, and I've succeded, yay me! But what ever will I do tomorrow? Just...come up with my own ideas for what to write? That sounds just a little insane.

But today's prompt asks us to look back on the month and reflect on our Core Story.

So like usual I'm going to turn left and talk about something this got me thinking about, something I've seen other bloggers talk about lately.

Why do I write a blog?

It's a strange thing, you know, writing and putting your thoughts out on the intarnets. Every so often I look at what search strings brought people here and it's quite funny. But I don't really write for anyone else, exactly.

I write for my kids, in an abstract way. I write so they have some knowledge of what it's like to be with them. I am very happy being a parent, even while I'm also conflicted and miss some parts of my before-parent life. I hope that when they do read this (they might read over my shoulder here and there but they don't currently read my blog on a regular basis, being 7 and 9 their interests in reading material lean more in the Rangers Apprentice and Edward Tulane directions.) I hope that when they do read this, they appreciate the journey that being a parent is. And the deep respect I have for this journey, in spite of all its challenges and the perils that lie within.

But I do write for them in the way that much of what I do as a parent is for them, because the more aware I am as a parent, I think the better off we all are. So that leads me to my second unintended audience, which is other parents, mothers in particular. I hope that the things I talk about here are things they've thought about but haven't put words to, or ideas they've had but have been scared to try, or that the things I say here help some parents figure out a solution to a challenge.

I also write because I've chosen writing as a hobby with ambitions of making it a career. To be a good writer one must write, so write I must.

But really, the reason I write is because much of the time, I just can't think something through without writing about it. I write for me. My brain works in pictures, which means it's horrendously hard for me to write sometimes. Try writing the description of a movie trailer just once and see what I mean about how hard it is to translate pictures to words (digression: the literal trailers are some of the funniest things I've seen ever. Harry Potter Deathly Hallows part 1 and Assasin's Creed are my favorites. "Take a second to look awesome.")

I write to figure it out, to puzzle together or tear apart my ideas. To make sense of senseless things and to give witness to important ones (like my children, my aspirations, and my pets, natch.)

Do you write? (Be honest. Many people write but don't think of it as writing because they don't SHARE what they write, which is fine. But do you?) Do you find that it helps you think more clearly? Even if you don't, what's your core story? Do you know what makes you you?

*remind me tomorrow, this feeds perfectly into my "perils of being a generalist" post. See there how I did that? Now I've got a prompt for tomorrow and everything!

Happy New Year!!

 

On beauty and being different

This is an interesting Reverb10 prompt, it gives me a desire to write in three directions at once (including the one that says "nothing I am/do is beautiful" but we'll shush that particular critic for the evening. She only shows up a day or two a month anyway and we mostly ignore her.)

First and foremost, I have to mention this great project on BlogHer.com this year called Own Your Own Beauty.

Rather than trying to summarize, let me just quote what the mission of this project is:

We are the beautiful people. All women. Every one of us. And that's amazing.

Own Your Beauty is a groundbreaking, year-long movement bringing women together to change the conversation about what beauty means. Our mission: to encourage and remind grown women that it is never too late to learn to love one's self and influence the lives of those around us - our mothers, friends, children, neighbors. We can shift our minds and hearts and change the path we follow in the pursuit of authentic beauty.

I like the message in the mission they're doing, and I have already read some great articles like this one, that one, and this other one. Check it out, definitely. I included this profile picture of myself on one of those pages, because I was really happy with the way it turned out. "Sweet light" - I managed to grab a few last photos with that perfect late afternoon autumn sunlight, fantastic.

Meanwhile, the thought that keeps jumping out at me about this prompt is the idea that the things that make you different are what make you beautiful. The idea that's totally new to me from this is that the things that we *do* - the actions we take, have some role in defining our beauty.

I'm a writer, and one of the primary things we talk about in fiction is that one's character is revelaed through his or her actions. I have always believed and understood that, but our actions giving us a characteristic - beauty, that's whoa-pass-the-tequilla-level deep thoughts.

But then again, there's those defining moments in your life to smack you in the face and tell you who's boss. Giving birth is of course a nice big obvious one. I've never felt quite as powerful as those two days (although I'll admit to each November upon completion of National Novel Writing Month, I get close again. See, writing is what I was meant to do with my life, just as much as parenting is!)

I have also seen it lately with our new pet - I've got a knack. I'm good with animals (not every one, but the ones who live in my house, certainly.) There's something inherently validating about being followed around the house by not one, not two, but three living beings who don't talk and can't tell me why they're doing what they're doing. They just do it.

My children think I'm beautiful, which is a lovely two way street because of course I'm certain they're the most beautiful things that exist on the planet. Perfection like that. The gods break the molds afterwards, not wanting us to be greedy.

But all the little things that make me quirky and different? Those are beautiful? I have a little difficulty seeing how my quirky inability to keep track of detailed financial information to be anything but a pain in the arse, not beauty, but my quirky interest in trees, flowers, prairie plants...my advocacy for my children and gifted education...my choice to become a breastfeeding counselor and educator? I know for a fact that there are women today on this planet who think of me when looking at their nursing toddler who they weren't sure would ever get latched on properly, or who decided to take a hiatus from work because I talked about my experiences ("sequencing" like what Madeline Albright and Sandra Day O'Connor did of raising a family then having massive career accomplishments...I'm waiting RIGHT HERE for my book deal, publishers. You hear me?) There were women like that in my life ahead of me and they certainly were beautiful, even that quirky one with dreadlocks and questionable hygeine, because she was there when I needed information and support and I'll never forget her, I just always chose to stand downwind.

So rather than me blathering on - it's up to you now. How do the things that make you different make you beautiful?

On being busy, in all its flavors and colors

One word to encapsulate 2010, that's what today's Reverb prompt is.

And all I can think of is busy. Busy busy busy.

My friends with kids older than me warned me this day would come, but I never quite understood them. Maybe it was their "Oh, you think you're busy NOW" delivery, or my own naivete? Or perhaps just a belief that I am the master of my domain, the captain of my own soul, and thus I can choose to be as busy or as not-busy as I like.

Ha ha ha. Oh that's nice. I've blogged about activities for kids before - how much IS too much? And I still don't know the answer, even many months and several different activities later. And it's a question that I can't seem to answer for the kids OR myself, that's the sticky wicket.

It's not just the mom taxi that keeps me busy (though between dance, gymnastics 2x/week plus monthly meets, baseball 3x/week, softball 3x/week, short-lived basketball 2x/week, various art classes, band, theater camp, regular summer camp, swim lessons, piano lessons, and all of the associated running-around that those activities create the need for, like baseball cleats and dance photos, and clarinets, I do find that the car's mileage continues to creep up.)

But I do all these other things, too. It's a constant balancing act, trying to prioritize and decide which things bring me the most enjoyment, where I feel my talents are best used, what things fill me up instead of just depleting me.

I'm getting better at this, but am still just busy. I plan all the family vacations/travel (there was a lot this year - Florida in March/April, D.C. in July, Wisconsin in August, my trip to OR for a writing workshop in October, New York and Kansas City in November) and am chief in charge of all food purchasing and prep in our house. We got a dog in January, and until recently had a very sick cat with complicated medical needs at home (instead now we have a 4 month old kitten who thinks licking knuckles while I type is FUN, and the cursor is some elaborate and very entertaining game designed just for her.) While I have a litter box man, pet food and daily care is mostly on me.

I'm a very active volunteer breastfeeding counselor, putting in 2-5 hours/week in my work there. I helped run the school's auction again this year, though unofficially which is one of those things I do well - being unofficially officially involved, lol. In the crunch time it was up to 20 or 30 hrs/week (plus plus), but for much of the early part of the year it was 5-10.

The garden doesn't plant itself, though I do mostly ignore it once it's planted. We've had a number of rather aggravating household systems failures this year (the water/well drama is still going on!), which require someone to be home and in regular communication with some service provider of some sort. Me. 

I'm a co-president of the Parent Association board at the kids' school this year, which is much more work than I expected (though not terribly hard work, but work that takes time.) And I volunteer in other ways at school as much as I can, and in ways I think are most helpful like attending Open Houses as an experienced parent to answer questions, or helping with the Book Fair because I'm such a big book geek. I think my tally of books read this year is up past 50 (counting the audio books the kids and I listen to in the car - something's got to take the edge off all that dull suburban driving! Listening to Septimus Heap or The Prydain Chronicles definitely takes the edge waaay off.)

And somewhere in there I managed to write another novel (a piece of crapola one yet, but I have faith in my ability to whip it into shape now that the bones are down,) edit and polish another, attend a workshop for and submit that polished one out to the great wide world of publishing, e-publish a short story, and write countless blog posts and little bits of ideas on scraps of paper and corners of notebooks and around the margins of work-related notes.

Oh, yeah, and I picked up another project, actual paying work that is occasionally difficult to shoehorn in among the other things that occupy my time (though work naturally gets highest priority given that people actually PAY me to do those things, whereas every other thing on my list is currently unpaid.)

So do I feel justified in being busy? I think writing it out helps me give shape to the busy, makes me feel like it's not just a smoke screen. Because I have often encountered people in my life who I think use "busy" as an excuse to avoid things, not have deep relationships, not develop their own interests, because they're just so "busy."

But then again, who am I to judge? Someone else might look at this list and wonder why I don't work more hours, why I haven't cleaned off my desk in a hundred thousand years, why is the basement is still stacked with paperwork and crud from our move 7 years ago, or why my children sometimes wear stained clothes.

The answer here isn't more Busy. It's the People Before Things answer that I love so so much. Yeah, we might be busy, but I can tell you all the books my kids have read in the last year, the names of all of their classmates (cheating a little, they attend a small school,) what brand of peanut butter is preferred, and how much washing is necessary before child A can interact with friend B who has a deathly allergy to peanut butter.

But I can also talk plot details and characterization in all of my active works-in-progress. I can speak intelligently about the latest research in breastfeeding, the current trends in the e-publishing business, the state of eLearning authoring tools, and the impact new technologies like the iPad are having on the world. Being a sane person with interests outside my children's (as much as I love them and cherish them) has been one of my goals of mothering, and I feel I have accomplished that goal well. However, in the process, I've become, well, rather Busy.

Next year, my goal is to look back on this prompt and write my 2011 word. For next year, I plan to aim for Balanced.

Mothering in front of one's Mother

Always when I'm with my mom and my kids, I can't help but think, she's watching me. While on the whole I think my mother generally approves of the job I do as a mother, I know what she's thinking:

"You talk too much."

I'm not a "explain instead of discipline" kind of mom - who uses explanations as a way to tell her kids things without having to actually MAKE the hard choices around discipline. I'm not one of those moms who says "okay?" at the end of everything as if she will change her mind about the request for the thirtieth bowl of cheerios for the day if the child says no when she says, "We're not going to have any more cheerios now, okay?"

But--I explain things to my kids. Quite a lot. And in great detail. I don't do this with everything, but often. I do this because I have found when I give them knee-jerk replies or grand, slightly arbitrary guidelines like, "Don't bug me when I'm on the phone," they can't keep to them.

But, if I can take a minute out of my life to explain, "Look, I was on the phone for three minutes TOTAL[1]. During those three minutes, you each interrupted me five times. (I wish I were joking but this is a retelling of Actual Events.) I can't give the other person on the phone my full attention with those constant interruptions, and it made me feel bad, too, because I couldn't give you my attention either. Instead I just felt annoyed and I was short with you. Can you pleassssseeee use your manners when I'm on the phone and either write down your question, or just wait because most phone calls don't take very long to complete. Okay?"

In this case I actually hope for some sort of acknowledgement, so the okay might slip in, though because I hate it so much I usually use another word or phrase like, "Do you understand?" or Capice (which I hope is actually how the italian word for "understand" is said/spelled, because otherwise I've been saying "flaming hog balls" or something ridiculous for years because someone once told me it was Italian for understand.)

[1] Yes, cell phones and cordless phones are great for providing data should you need to quote a specific time range. You know, if this sort of thing happens in your home. [2]

[2] Which I'm sure it doesn't. [3]

[3] Because you're perfect. [4]

[4] No, you did not detect a note of sarcasm in my voice, okay? [5]

[5] Yeah I'm just getting bitchy by now. Your mom probably worships the ground you walk on, too. :P

One sling to rule them all

Everything about this article fascinates me.

First, as a breastfeeding counselor, I find the idea that it was the invention of the sling that led to advancements that helped our species come into being PHENOMENAL. Yeah, that's right, it's the women who worked out the technical details so we could advance our butts off the savannah! We want and deserve Oprah and bon-bons.

Upright female hominins walking the savannah had a real problem: their babies couldn't cling to them the way a chimp baby could cling to its mother. Carrying an infant would have been the highest drain on energy for a hominin female - higher than lactation. So what did they do? I believe they figured out how to carry their newborns using a loop of animal tissue.

and

Once you have slings to carry babies, you have broken a glass ceiling - it doesn't matter whether the infant is helpless for a day, a month or a year. You can have ever more helpless young and that, as far as I can see, is how encephalisation took place in the genus Homo. We used technology to turn ourselves into kangaroos.

Using technology to turn ourselves into kangaroos - awesome visual.

(Picture of my fantastic friend Renee back when our babies who turn nine soon were...well, babies!)

I carried my babies in slings, did you? Did you make use of other technologies to help make your life as a momma easier?

But the article keeps going on with its awesomeness - it didn't just stop there. He goes on to tell us how our brains are smaller these days and we're outsourcing our intelligence. As a science fiction writer, this is the stuff that makes me squeal with girly excitement:

Evidence shows that over the last 30,000 years there has been an overall decrease in brain size and the trend seems to be continuing. That's because we can outsource our intelligence. I don't need to remember as much as a Neanderthal because I have a computer.

And because it's just a cool article, he sums up by talking about space travel:

I look back 4 million years and see our emergence and our evolution and then I look forward 4 million years because those are the timescales I'm used to. And in the long run, humans will go extinct if we can't get off this planet. The only way out, ultimately, is up.

If there isn't a story prompt (or fifty) in here for me and other science fiction writers, I will turn in my Science Fiction Geek Club card (whatever it may be.)

What do you think? Can you see the logic that technology made the humans rather than humans made the technology? And are you even more impressed with women's ingenuity? We've always been seeking ways to multitask - even 2.5 MILLION YEARS AGO. No wonder I'm so tired!