Get ready for some cheese...

I am just absolutely head-over-heels in love with Froggy. This age (three and a half) is the most hilarious, loving, joyful age. She's also challenging, but in a different way. Something has shifted. That crazy, out-of-control, toddler stage has been hijacked by an inquisitive, funny, super affectionate little person. For all those moments I say, "Froggy you're driving me bonkers!" there are a hundred more times when I look at our girl in amazement and think, "Whatever did we do to deserve you?"

On our walks with Buddy, she asks, "Do chickens have two legs?," and "What do crows eat?," and "Where is the sunset?" and "What do tree roots eat?"

Her imagination is delightful. I love listening to her conversations with dolls, farm animals, and beany bears. She's content for hours now playing with her little friends, pretending to "do surgery" on Buddy, with her little doctor kit, (he HATES it by the way).

FD and I are soaking this stage up. We are both completely smitten by the end of the terrible two's (hopefully) and this wonderful little soul emerging. I know, I know, it's obnoxious to love your kid this much. But you would too!

Froggyisms

While in the shower today, Froggy noticed a pink birthmark on my back.

Froggy: What's that mom?
FM: A birthmark, or a pink mole.
Froggy: That's disgusting.

Froggy is quite the fashionista. Yesterday she was walking around in the buff, while wearing a wool winter cap. She was dancing on the veranda in this ridiculous outfit, while I was singing a silly little song. FD came outside and Froggy said, "Daddy, close the door, I'm getting cold." Yes, that's right, close the door to the house, because she's getting cold outside.

On our walk today, Froggy pointed to a flower and said, "That's lupen." She pointed to another flower in our yard and said, "Those are baby-blue-eyes."

Froggy was hugging her polar bear during treatment today. So I asked her, "Where do polar bears live?" And she said, "Antiarcticaca." Close. Her stupid mommy had to look it up online to recall if Polar Bears live in the Arctic, or Antarctic. And in case you're also not as smart as a three year old, it's the Arctic and they like to eat baby seals. Cool.

Yesterday, Froggy asked, "Where do dogs go when they get old?" I was caught off guard and didn't know if this was a question about mortality, or what, so I just probed. "What do you mean, when they get old, Buddy is old and he still lives with us?" Froggy looked at me like I hadn't answered her question and said, "No, but where do they GO when they get old." And because I really didn't feel ready for a death question yet, I just kept repeating, "Buddy's old and he's not going anywhere." Atleast not yet. And when our 12 year old Pomeranian does "go" then I'll be more prepared for how to answer my curious girl.

At bedtime, Froggy always asks me to tell her a story. I like it when she comes up with the theme. So the other night, when she said, "tell me a story," I said, "About what?" She replied, "Tell me a story about a little mouse named Rotten Egg, because he smells like butt." And I'll leave you with that.

The Velodrome

Froggydadda is a bicyclist. Today he had a track race at the Encino velodrome. Froggy and I came to cheer him on. It was 100 degrees in the Valley (isn't it always?), but we had a great red-cheeked time. Froggy brought her tricycle and showed those racers a thing or two.

FD is still racing, but when we left he'd come in 2nd in the time trial and 3rd in the group race. I don't know the official lingo, so I'm sure when FD gets home and reads "Group race" he'll laugh. He was looking pretty cute in spandex today.

A very naughty Froggyism

This morning we made french toast and eggs. I'm not a great cook, but turns out Froggy is. It was delicioso!!!

After breakfast I gave her a milk/supplement. She was sitting on the sofa watching "Curious George," finished her milk and couldn't reach the table to place the milk on it. I'm in the kitchen doing dishes and I hear, "Mama, mama, mama help." Assuming she's on fire or a cougar just ran into our livingroom, I rush out to find the problem. There she is on the sofa reaching her milk out trying to put it on the table without getting up.

Irritated, and hands dripping with soap suds, I say, "Froggy, what is the matter?"

She replies, "I can't reach!" And at this point she's really stretching hard for dramatic affect.

"So get off your lazy bones and walk over to the table," I say. Then I finish with a very motherly expression heard by every kid since the beginning of time, "I'm not your slave, ya know!"

And Froggy being Froggy said, "Yes you are. You're my slave."

Well atleast we cleared the air. Now I know my place.

Tomorrow she's getting a breakfast bar.

CF Stuff

Thank you CF moms/dads/grandmas for your help with our long treatments. We just received a new nebulizer compressor and it's speeding up treatments considerably. Woo hoo.

As a CF mama I'm always looking for snacks/foods with super high calorie and fat content. Yesterday Froggy gobbled up a granola bar that a friend brought over. So off to the store I went looking for the granola bar with uber calories. In our non-fat obsessed world, it is really difficult finding anything snacky with fat in it, unless you go the junkfood route. So there I am standing in the cereal aisle spending fifteen minutes trying to find a granola bar that isn't low-cal. I finally found it "Quaker Chewy Granola - Fiber and Omega 3 bar" 150 calories (the other were 80 or 100)! I shouted outloud "Yes, more calories!!!" -- provoking some strange looks. So a granola bar with her supplemented milk makes for good high-cal snack! And I told her it's a candy bar, which sounds so much more exciting than "boring granola".

I'm always looking for snacks/foods that a picky toddler will eat that is high in fat/calories. So suggestions would be great!

A Very Froggy Easter

Easter Egg Hunt

Saturday morning we walked to our local park for an Easter egg hunt. Twenty other parents and toddlers were waiting eagerly with little baskets. But no park official, no bunny, no eggs ever showed up! Despite our city parks/rec site advertising an egg hunt, no one came. How pathetic is that? So all the parents had to tell their sad toddlers that the Easter Bunny was a no-show!

I exaggerate a little. The kids didn't really seem to care and were happing swinging and sliding and playing, but still.

Froggy and I walked home, looked online and found another egg hunt. This one included a petting zoo and boucy houses. Even better.

Sit still little Frog!

We have 20 more days of Froggy's LONG treatments. After that, we'll have a month off before we start again. One month on, one month off, for a year. Geez. Fortunately Froggy is actually sitting still for her treatments...kind of.

Grandma, Grandpa, hey it's Froggy.

I miss you.

Mommy needs to get on the ball and book some tickets to Iowa, don't ya think?

I have my overalls on and everything.

Anna

I'm having a hard time tonight. A little girl named Anna (with CF) just died this week - she was only eight years old. And I stupidly looked on the "In remembrance" forum of the CF website and was just horrified at how young everyone was. Seven, eight, eleven, thirteen, twenty-two. I hate this disease. When I look at the numbers, at how early kids are taken, I just can't handle it.

I look at Froggy and can't see her any other way but healthy and vibrant, running and happy. I don't want to. I can't imagine losing a child. I can't imagine what those parents go through. I never want to know. Sometimes it's just too much. I just can't stop crying for Anna's family.

Froggy's new boat

Grandpa J. built Froggy this boat.


We went sailing in San Pedro on the their 'big' sailboat too.

Froggy first tried her boat out in Aunt N's pool to see if it was sea worthy.

Froggymama Feminist Confession

I have a Froggymama confession. I listen to Dr. Laura... a lot. I can't help it. Her radio show is the equivolent of watching a trainwreck -- a trainwreck with very judgemental subtitles. It's fascinating, and I guess the real reason is that deep-down it's comforting to know everyone has problems.

Their step mom is mean, their daughter is a runaway, their wedding is going to be a disaster if Aunt Lorraine attends. Everyone, no matter what, has something that keeps them up at night. And there's a camaraderie in this notion that we're all seeking answers, trying to make the right decisions.

Dr. Laura is my mid-day soap opera, my dirty little secret that I enjoy while doing dishes, running errands and boiling nebulizers. I've tried to quit her, to turn the dial to NPR, to listen to my liberal local radio stations. But like a vice, a drug, everyday I rendezvous with this republican, this judgemental, harsh and morally superior woman.

Politically Dr. L and I could not be more different. I'm a Obama-lovin' democrat and feminist. Yesterday while listening, I was especially struck by a point she made about stay-at-home moms (SAHM's). She said that SAHM's are the most hated people in the world. I was eating lunch in my car about to drive into Beverly Hills to run an errand for my boss, and when she said this, I almost choked on my taco salad.

I am a stay-at-home mom and I have never, not-for-a-second felt hated in my left-coast, liberal-lovin' home of Southern California. So how, how, could I be the most HATED minority, when I've only felt love and support? Shouldn't I be feelin' the hate in Los Angeles where we are all career-driven opportunists?

Dr. Laura read a letter from a dad who praised his wife for staying home with their three children. The good doctor then commented on how some women choose fancy cars or big tv's over quality time with their kids, how these selfish "working" women choose European vacations and keeping up with the Jones' over their children. Hmmm.

I am a stay-at-home mom who works from home. I was LUCKY enough to have a job that allows me to raise my child while bringing home some proverbial bacon. It is really tough and I know both Froggy and I suffer from this compromise. Most of my women friends also work... some from home, some not. But here's the thing... my women friends who go into the office aren't working for fancy cars or vacations, for jewelry or to fulfill their selfish feminist desires. They're working because their husband's job doesn't provide health insurance, or because to live in Los Angeles two incomes are necessary just to stay above the poverty line, because to afford life, to pay bills, to put food on the table, they must. It isn't selfish, it isn't a comment on feminism, it isn't even always a choice. It's reality and they're just trying to make ends meet. So to make moms feel even more guilty for all they do, makes me incredibly sad.

Dr. Laura blames feminists for basically all the problems in the world. And she's not alone. I've taken classes in feminist theory and criticism. I'm not just a Gloria Steinem feminist, a bumper sticker feminist, I've read Judith Butler, Germaine Greer, Julia Kristeva, Simone de Beauvoir, Diana Fuss, and Luce Irigaray. And in all of my studies, do you know what I've learned? Feminism is not about man-hating, it's not about being selfish, it's not about putting children second, and it's not about keeping up with the Jones'. True feminism is not even about women being equal to men. Because there is no point in comparing apples to oranges, right? And yes, some of the feminist theory was "way out there" but it had to be. It was challenging a norm and had to challenge those subtleties with extremism. Like the black panthers had to challenge racism, like hippies challenged the war in Vietnam. It couldn't be a gentle transition. It had to be jerky, like an earthquake, a volcano with tectonic plates and magma exploding under the surface of society.

Feminism is essentially about women finding their place, and most importantly finding balance. It is not about making children suffer or about being the "angry wife." Feminism, in it's philosophical form is about women searching for answers, about being an actual human being while playing the role of mother and wife, sister and daughter. Feminism was about breaking the stereotypes so women could just be human beings. Feminism challenged the legality of "domestic abuse," and how by adding the word "domestic," abuse was somehow lessened. Feminism was at it's essence about protecting women and children. It was about strengthening and protecting the family, not about breaking it. And those who say otherwise have never really studied feminist theory.

My female friends are feminists and a lot of them are also stay-at-home moms. Some work a 9-5, some work from home, some are lucky not to work outside the home, some work part-time so they are able to attend soccer and violin lessons. Some have to work from the wee hours until dusk in order to provide for their family. And when I tell these feminist women friends that I work from home and am a SAHM, they always say, "Oh, you're sooo lucky."

I have never, not once felt hated. I've never felt 'less than' because I care for my child full-time. None of my female or male friends have ever questioned my integrity because I make mac n'cheese and do treatments, because I'm a personal assistant instead of pursuing my writing career. No one, not a single woman friend has ever said, "Oh, you JUST stay at home," or "So you don't work, you're just a mom."

Interestingly enough, a lot of my friends who are intelligent, career driven and believe that women can be anything they want, also choose to stay home. In my experience, I've found no correlation between feminism and the judgement or hatred of mothers who choose to stay home with their kids. I was absolutely astounded by the statement that SAHM's are the most hated minority.

So who is doing the hating? Working moms? Not from my perspective. Singletons? No, I have a lot of single friends. Who exactly HATES SAHM's?

Are SAHM's getting killed while picking up their kids from daycare? Are they receiving death threats via email or facebook? Are people spending millions to make "Stay-at-home-moms" an illegal institution? Are religious organizations picketing home of these "rebel moms?" Who in the world HATES SAHM'S?

Here's my answer. I think Dr. Laura is sooooo out of touch with the real world that her paranoia has taken over her ability to think rationally. I think that there is a strange rationale of the majority to feel like they are the minority, to feel persecuted and victimized when they aren't. I don't feel victimized or persecuted as a feminist who chooses to stay home with her child, because I'm not. I don't know of a single person who thinks I'm an idiot for choosing my child over my career.

I will always be a feminist. I believe that women are so amazing that they can be anything, an astronaut, a writer, a president, a mama. And as a mama and woman I know that I am changing the world positively by raising a strong, talented and healthy little girl, probably more so than walking on the moon or ruling the world.

And when Froggy is grown, or spending more time in school than at home... I will fulfill my "selfish" writing desires. I believe that this is the true form of feminism... protecting children, providing love and a foundation of health and success so that someday they will have choices in their life. I don't feel hated. Not for a second. But I do feel patronized, by people like Dr. Laura who choose to manipulate women against each other. We as moms are all in this together. And we're doing the best we can. So stop judging, stop accusing, and just accept the fact that this is a tough job, the toughest job ever and we will prevail. We will prevail.

An 'ohhh so true' poem by Jay Hopler

Meditation on Ruin
by Jay Hopler

It's not the lost lover that brings us to ruin, or the barroom brawl,
or the con game gone bad, or the beating
Taken in the alleyway. But the lost car keys,
The broken shoelace,
The overcharge at the gas pump
Which we broach without comment — these are the things that
eat away at life, these constant vibrations
In the web of the unremarkable.

The death of a father — the death of the mother —
The sudden loss shocks the living flesh alive! But the broken
pair of glasses,
The tear in the trousers,
These begin an ache behind the eyes.
And it's this ache to which we will ourselves
Oblivious. We are oblivious. Then, one morning—there's a
crack in the water glass —we wake to find ourselves undone.

"Meditation on Ruin" by Jay Hopler from Green Squall. © Yale University Press, 2006.

Care for a little research anyone?

As you all know Froggy is incredibly pancreatic insufficient, more so that a lot of kiddos with CF. The CF Foundation spends the majority of it's resources on the pulmonary aspect of CF because it is the fatal aspect of the disease. However, malnutrition and the pancreatic scarring and a host of other health issues result from the blockage of pancreatic enzymes in people with CF. I rarely read about enzyme research so to read this article made my day!

And some even more incredible research can be found here!

I swear I'm going to get my Great Strides Team together soon. So get ready to raise money so even more research can be done for all the little Froggies out there!

Meds and Mousy

These are just some of Froggy's meds/equipment. There are three more in the fridge, and some in the cupboard. But you get the picture. It's a lot for one little tadpole.

Is she a frog or a mouse? Lately, she's been wearing her Mousy costume everywhere...to the park, the pharmacy, around the house, and always when she eats a cheesy snack.

Spanglish

While doing treatment, Froggy was watching the childrens' network "Sprout". Moose A. Moose comes on screen and says, "I'm Moose A. Moose, what's your name?"

And Froggy, as dry and serious as can be says, "Jose."

Fancy Mice

A quick Froggyism:

While tucking Froggy into bed, Froggy asks...

Froggy: Mommy, where do mice live?

FM: Well, they live in houses and barns sometimes. But mostly they live in the woods.

Froggy: Like Hollywood?

I think when she said this my farmer grandparents rolled over in their grave. We gotta get this kid out of LA, or atleast on a hike!

Real Letters

I sat down tonight and thought, "Oh, I'll write my Aunt Dorothy a letter."

She died a couple months ago, but the desire to write her remains.

I usually wrote her once a month - placing some bougainvillea in the envelope to brighten her long Iowa winters. Dort was the only person I wrote REAL letters. She was the last person I knew without email or a facebook account, without a cell phone or fax, blackberry or iphone.

I miss the ritual of sitting down, looking through my stationary, finding a good, black writing pen and telling her what my little hellion Froggy has been up to. Something is missing in the technologically improved letter, the email and text, yes even the blog. The ritual, like the sacrament or kneeling, bowing one's head is lost in the flickering screen-- that tradition of pink stationary, a pressed flower, and words written by hand, just can not be replicated in our cyberworld.

With Aunt Dort's passing, also went my reason for sitting down, opening up my black box with stationary, and finding the perfect pen to jot down the day for someone I love.

At the beach with Auntie Honka

Yesterday we spent the afternoon in Venice, playing on the beach, at the park and stopped by our favorite bookstore to visit the shop cat, Esme.

Auntie Honka (aka Auntarctica) has been here an entire week, and tomorrow morning she's flying back to Iowa. We're so sad to see her go. After spending an entire week with a crazy toddler and two bickering spouses, I assume she'll sigh a sigh of sweet relief as the plane takes off. We're definitely not the Ritz. And you all know what Froggy does in the tupperware.

While Auntie was here we.... shopped, ate copious amounts of Thai and Indian food, saw the movie "Sunshine Cleaning" (sooooo good), walked on the beach, saw a taping of "Chelsea Lately", read trashy celebrity magazines, drank about fifty mochas and even more wine, had playdates, and walks, did dishes, snuggled Froggy, Buddy and the kitties, and laughed so hard I peed my pants a little. Ahhhh, that's what sisters are for.

And now a couple funny Froggyisms:

While jumping on the bed, Froggy stops abruptly, looks up at me like "Eureka!" and says...

Froggy: Diarrhea and Bougainvillea rhyme!

What can I say, she's a genius.

While watching the movie "Milo and Otis" Froggy picked up the phrase, "You're dead meat." So she's been using it all the time and has absolutely no idea what it means, for example:

(To the cat)

Froggy: Hey deadmeat.

or

Froggy: Let's get dead meat.

or

Froggy: That's dead meaty.

Another favorite expression of her's is "Shut your pie hole." I say it to the dog when he's barking at the mail man. Ooops. I better watch it, or she'll start telling her little friends to shut their pie holes.