so-yummy pumpkin bread

Compares with Great Harvest. I think the key is the large doses of cinnamon and nutmeg (a tablespoon each, not a teaspoon).

Mix:
2 ½ c flour
1 c wheat flour
2 t soda
1 T cinnamon
1 T nutmeg
1 t salt
2 ½ c sugar

Mix:
16 oz. pumpkin
4 eggs
2/3 c. water
1 c. oil

Stir wet ingredients into dry ingredients. Add nuts or chocolate chips (1-2 cups). Pour into 2 greased 9x5 loaf pans. Bake 60-70 minutes at 350 degrees.

wanting to like Mitt

I want to like Mitt Romney and I want other people to like him, which may be weird since he's not my candidate. The people I know who know him (or are acquainted with him) say he's a good teacher and leader. He's good at listening and building consensus. He's smart. He's a problem solver. I just wish he weren't so wishy washy. (But then George W wasn't wishy washy, and I can't stand him.)

If Mitt were running on the same platform that got him the job in MA, I might actually vote for him. I want the moderate Mitt to be the real Mitt. But maybe that Mitt was no more real than (or every bit as real as) the current Mitt. He tells his voters and what they want, and if elected, will likely try to give voters what they want.

My most positive spin on Mitt is that he believes strongly that an elected official should represent his electorate. As Massachusetts governor he represented the people of Massachusetts; as Republican presidential candidate he represents the party (particularly the vocal, far-right). If representing the electorate is his primary value as a politician, then changing his views to reflect voters' views is right, good, and consistent.

When I see Mitt bickering with his opponents, my read is that Mitt very much wants to be president, is used to getting what he wants, and feels picked on right now. I don't want him to just pander to the public; I want him to stand for something (i.e., rationality and moderation) and persuade people that he's right (not that people are willing to be persuaded). So far Huntsman seems better than Mitt at being reasonable and consistent. But then, if I were just going for consistency, I'd vote for Ron Paul (no thanks).

As far as the religion issue, I think Mitt's handled it well (and Huntsman maybe less well). Many people might not vote for him because of his religion; most Mormons will vote for him because of his religion. As for me, I'm looking for someone who better represents my values.

controlling parents (not mine)

"Why do parents try to control their children?" someone asked at book group. One woman pointed out that we want our kids to avoid making the same mistakes we made, but, of course, we all have to learn from our own mistakes sometimes. Another said that we put so much of ourselves into providing our kids great experiences that we want and expect them to take advantage and be grateful. I think it's a good thing that I teach part-time (i.e., have a hobby, goals, etc.), or I might be more controlling than I am. But Chua, the author of the book we were discussing, is a Yale law professor--certainly not someone who needs to live through her children (though she is not accomplished musically and made her children into concert musicians). One woman in our group theorized that Chua not only needs to control herself, her husband, and her children, but also wants to control everyone within the sound of her voice (This is how you should parent!).

So, what makes some people control freaks? One woman said she decided years ago that she would not be a stage mom because she saw how her friends (and friends' children) suffered under their stage moms. Couldn't the stage moms see what they were doing? And if so, why didn't they stop?

Even though my friends at book group agreed that we shouldn't control our children, the gals on my right and left both said that they blamed their mothers for not pushing them harder, allowing them to quit piano lessons young. Beat that. What's a mom to do? Chua makes the point that if left to their own devices, most children would never choose to practice or work hard. Yes, there are exceptions--children who from birth seek challenges--but most kids need to be motivated. I was one of those kids who needed to be reminded to practice piano for years before I took the initiative. My daughter (age 11), after choosing to play violin, vehemently resisted practicing and lessons. Her teacher said that her friends majoring in music didn't like practicing as children either. But after months of my daughter's complaints, we let her quit. If she ever blames me for allowing her to quit I will first feel very angry and second remind her that quitting was entirely her idea.

test over

After a 3.5 hour test (that I'm under legal obligation not to discuss), nothing beats coming home to an adorable 3 year old (and her amazing dad, of course). This little girl who literally jumps for joy, tells me she loves to play with me, asks me to read books with her, and is just so darn cute makes me wonder again why I just subjected myself to said test.

My older kids have also asked why.
"I might want to go back to school."
"Why? So you can teach more?"
"Maybe."
"Why would you want to teach more? Then you'd have less time to spend with us."
"But you're in school all day and soon E will be too. I enjoy school, so I might want to go back. This summer you've been bored--I get bored too."

Not this week though. What with lesson prep, grading, kids' activities, the test, neighborhood preschool (my turn to teach last week), volunteering in M's class, and normal household stuff (eating, shopping, etc.), I'm feeling happy for Friday.

Maybe I'll decide not to apply for a PhD program--the scores are good for 5 years; I'm in no rush. Then again, I won't always have an adorable three year old asking me to play.

Oreo-stuffed chocolate chip cookies

The friend who introduced me to cake balls served Oreo-stuffed chocolate chip cookies at book group this week. Amazing!

Start with a scoop of cookie dough
Next an Oreo
Top with another scoop of cookie dough
Bake until done

fine line

The summer that my third child was 3 1/2, I suffered a sort of mid-life crisis. I was bored, restless. I had three kids at home who required regular, but not constant, supervision. I was in grad school too, but took the summer off (I take every summer off) because when the kids are out of school I lack the energy to do homework after the kids go to bed (which is when I do most of my work). Although I didn't have big chunks of free time, I had more little chunks than I was used to and I didn't know what to do with myself.

So I was fully expecting a similar restlessness this summer, now that my fourth child is 3 years old. Actually the restlessness started before summer. 2010 was a very full year; summer and fall were my busiest months since grad school. Then winter semester I was teaching one class with an assistant and our youngest was learning to play independently--I had free time again. Don't get me wrong. I love being able to read whatever I want, exercise regularly, and watch a good show after the kids going to bed. But at some point I want to see results for how I spend my time. I need a project.

A few years ago the girl cutting my hair (at a beauty school--so yes, she was a girl, not a woman) asked what I did for fun. That seemed like such a weird question. I told her I taught piano and writing (hobbies, yes, but not entirely fun). She said, "So you like writing and playing piano, then?" Well, no, I don't write much or play piano much--I mostly teach.

In high school I did play the piano, though not exactly for fun, and I wrote for school--not fun. I was involved in a dozen extra-curricular activities, but I haven't found a way to transfer most of those to adult hobbies. As a former yearbook editor, I suppose I should like scrapbooking (I don't--at least not in a big way). As a former dancer I suppose I could take zumba.

So, with free time and free tuition, I'm contemplating going back to school. One thing I've enjoyed through most of my life is school. But I'm not quite ready. Our youngest still has 2 years of preschool before kindergarten, and I'm really not sure if I want to have professors dictating what I read and write about. I am committed, however, to taking the GRE in five weeks--the price is 50% in August and September, so I thought I may as well take it now (scores are good for 5 years; that's the sort of discount shopper I am).

The last couple of days, I haven't felt bored. Just when I thought I had free time, the independent study students start turning things in, family comes to visit, friends come to play, people have birthdays, preschool plans fall through, N lets me read the book he's writing, I find interesting books at the library. School is starting soon--I have a new textbook to read and a syllabus to write. I'll soon have plenty of papers to grade and study abroad to plan (the family end of things).

Sometimes there's a fine line between boredom and stress; the challenge is finding the happy medium. I'm lucky that for the most part my busy times are the result of my choices--having kids, going to school, building a house. I just wonder how many of these mid-life crises can one person have?

not-so-great salt lake

We're kind of pitiful when it comes to taking advantage of the amazing outdoor recreational opportunities surrounding us. When N proposed we take a field trip to the Great Salt Lake, it sounded like a super idea.

We decided to go to Antelope Island, which is west of Syracuse (20 minutes or so north of the city, then another 20 minutes west. I didn't watch the clock, so I'm totally guessing). The last 7 miles of the drive is on a causeway built through the lake, so there's water on both sides and distant mountains all around--it's gorgeous. Arriving around 5:00 p.m., we chose to start at the beach. It was a hot day--the parking lot felt like a barbeque grill. Between the parking lot and the beach is about 200 yards of sand, which had been cooking all day. I didn't know whether to wear my flip flops, which kept throwing sand up onto my legs, or remove them, thereby exposing my entire foot to the scalding sand.

Besides the heat, the other sensation we noticed as we approached the beach was the smell. It was ocean-like, but more pungeant--my son described it as a zoo smell.

We dropped our towels in a heap and headed into the water, stepping on hundreds of brine flies on the way. Now, you'd think that any person standing in the Salt Lake would have an irresistable urge to try floating, right? The thing is, the water isn't exactly clear--more greenish, with a top layer of small, rust-colored brine shrimp (you'd never know they were shrimp unless someone told you--they're tiny)--not exactly enticing. The only one of us who tried floating was our 3 year old and she loved it--couldn't get enough. She also practiced blowing bubbles.

The best thing about being in the Salt Lake, besides just being there, is skipping rocks. Littering the sandy bottom are an endless supply of flat rocks. After 30 minutes or so in the water, when I asked my older children if they were ready to go to shore, they declined--too busy skipping rocks. My daughter decided to keep one of the larger rocks. It looked like Arkansas; we named it Little Rock.

good to be home

It's nice to go away for a few days and better to come home.

The first few days of the trip were great: lovely I-70 to Denver/Boulder area, where I'd never been. The verdant hills and farms feel like home. Spent time with two brothers' families, including new babies. Saw an old friend. Browsed through a bookstore, ate Chicago-style pizza and Italian gelato on Pearl Street. July 4 fireworks with panoramic views. Amusement park had good rides and reasonable lines. Complimentary buffet breakfast.

Then we drove north to Laramie (N had a conference there--our going along saved 6 hours driving, a car rental, and hotel room). I'm afraid we had a bad attitude going in--at least, our two older kids did, which made it hard for the rest of us to enjoy the place. The hotel was very nice, which meant it did not offer complimentary breakfast. The good news was that we had two tvs and could hook up the Xbox to one of them. We swam in the hotel pool both days and spent most of the rest of our time in our comfortable hotel room. We did leave the hotel to eat meals and drive to the Snowy Mtns--not quite as close as they appeared on the map, but lovely (and genuinely snowy). The highlight of the drive was seeing two moose 50 yards off the road, but when we opened the window to snap a photo, several mosquitoes swooped in. Daughter A says that seeing two moose was not worth 1.5 hour drive (round trip) and 13 mosquito bites (pretty sure she got most of those July 4). We missed the rodeo by 10 hours, though we probably could have taken in bull riding or mutton busting. Surely we could have gone bowling or to a movie. But my kids didn't want to go anywhere--not even the park (we did go after some bribing/threats)--they just wanted to complain about how stupid Laramie was.

I'm glad to exchange the hotel suite for multiple bedrooms and bathrooms, a nice yard and swing set. And I'm starting to feel anxiety about the prospect of 6 months in a 2 bedroom, 1 bathroom flat, homeschooling my children (albeit in London, not Laramie).

Sticky Toffee Pudding

I've served this to two different book groups, to positive reviews.

Sticky Toffee Pudding (slightly adapted from Bon Appetit)
12 oz. (about 2 c) pitted, chopped dates
1 c boiling water
1 ¾ c flour
2 t baking powder
½ t baking soda
½ t salt
½ c (1 stick) butter
1 ½ c packed brown sugar
2 eggs
1 t vanilla
Toffee sauce or buttermilk syrup (recipes below)

1. Place dates in medium bowl; pour boiling water over, stir, let cool.
2. Preheat oven to 350. Butter and flour 13x9 pan.
3. In another medium bowl, mix flour, baking powder, soda, and salt.
4. Using electric mixer, beat butter in large bowl until light and fluffy. Add brown sugar and beat until blended (mixture will be grainy). Beat in eggs 1 at a time, mixing well. Beat in vanilla. Stir in flour mixture alternately with date mixture, starting and ending with flour.
5. Transfer batter to prepared pan.
6. Bake until tester comes out clean, about 40 minutes. Spoon ½ c warm toffee sauce or buttermilk syrup over cake, spreading evenly. Bake until sauce is thick and bubbling, about 8 minutes. Cool cake in pan until warm. Serve with remaining toffee sauce. (Every time I've made this the center has sunk and the edges were brown.)

Toffee Sauce
2 ½ c cream
1 c sugar
½ c. butter
½ c. light corn syrup
Bring 1 ½ c. cream, sugar, butter, and corn syrup to boil in heavy large saucepan over medium-high heat, stirring until sugar dissolves and butter melts. Reduce heat to medium and boil gently until mixture is thick and deep amber, stirring often, about 35 minutes.
Remove sauce from heat. Whisk in remaining 1 c cream (mixture will bubble vigorously). Strain into medium microwavable bowl. Can be made ahead.

A half batch of toffee sauce is enough.
For book group, I substituted buttermilk syrup for the toffee sauce—it’s faster and less fatty. It’s also delicious with pancakes, etc.

Buttermilk syrup
1 1/2 cups white sugar
3/4 cup buttermilk
1/2 cup butter
2 tablespoons corn syrup
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
In a large saucepan (3-4 qt), stir together the sugar, buttermilk, butter, corn syrup, and baking soda. Bring to a boil, and cook for 7 minutes. Remove from the heat, and stir in the vanilla.
Note: the mixture grows big while it cooks.

all we need is love

Last night I watched Freakonomics (spoiler alert--and yes, I know I should have read the book first), in which Steven Levitt argues that while many factors contributed to a drop in crime in the 1990s, the biggest contributing factor was Roe v. Wade. Fewer unwanted pregnancies in the 1970s led to fewer crimes in the 1990s.

Another chapter of Freakonomics explores using incentives to raise students' grades. A group of professors and students at the University of Chicago bribe (provide incentives for) 9th graders to improve their grades: $50/month if they maintain a C average and good attendance, with a shot at $500 and a limo ride. The incentives help D students become C students, but don't work for failing students. Passing rates increase by about 6%, which is lower than anticipated. The people running the study conclude they need to reach younger students--their next target population is preschoolers. Levitt asks will they be training the students or the parents? The answer is, both.

Which brings me to the first chapter: parenting. Levitt and coauther Dubner say that fancy preschools and expensive extra-curriculars don't matter. By the time a mother gives birth, she's already pretty well determined that child's future. Dubner doesn't say it exactly, but I think what he implies, if you consider the later chapters, is that what matters most in kids' lives is whether their parents want them and love them.

Reminds me of an interview with David Brooks, heard on NPR. Discussing his new book, he said that when he looked into why kids drop out of high school, he found that you could pretty accurately predict whether a preschooler would drop out of high school based on that child's relationship with his or her mother (I may be oversimplifying). Rather than inciting worry among mothers (Is my relationship with my children strong enough? How can I improve it?), and not having read either of the books I cite, I would echo Dubner in saying that if you're thinking about these questions, you're probably doing fine.

Now, most of us are aiming much higher for our children than high school graduation. But I'm not very worried about your children or my children. If we put together the various examples and arguments above, Freakonomics suggests that preventing unwanted pregnancies not only reduces crime, but similarly increases graduation rates and probably improves a long list of social measures. And educating 8th graders about birth control isn't going to solve the problem--we have to start younger, much younger. We have to start before birth (does that make any sense?). Wherever we start will not be the beginning--we're far past the beginning--but we need to try to ensure that all children are loved and all parents are loving.

My second grader, M, asked his friend, J, his greatest wish. J said, that everyone could be friends. M told J that's like asking for world peace only better, because if everyone is friends, we'll have world peace and more. Sounds pretty good.

entertain me

I wonder how many hours families collectively spend watching children's performances in the months of December and May. I'm afraid the shows bring out the Scrooge in me (I realize I kvetched in my last entry too--am I a really grumpy person?).

Crazy, I suppose, to complain, since I was an eager performer growing up and encourage my kids to do more extra-curricular activities than they choose to do. Taken individually I don't mind an orchestra concert, school play, or dance recital. My plea here is for all you teachers to please limit performances to an hour. Pretty, pretty please. Not 90 minutes, certainly not 2 hours. Especially not on a school night. And dress rehearsals need to be scheduled on a separate day.

Many teachers abide by these rules, and I thank them for it. Really I should be thanking all the dedicated teachers who teach my children and plan events to share students' talents, but sometimes I'm more annoyed than thankful.

For instance, Saturday we attended a matinee ballroom dance performance. Although all the numbers were good, we were there primarily to see our child perform for 3 minutes, and I'm pretty sure that most audience members were there to see their 7th and 8th graders. Anyone wanting to see the JV and varsity dancers would likely attend an evening performance, since they didn't include junior high groups, yet JV and varsity numbers dominated the matinee.

Worse is my daughter's dance performance next week, the last day of school. She's supposed to be at the auditorium 1:00-4:00 for dress rehearsal, then perform at 5:00 and 7:30, arriving 30 minutes early for each performance. We'll be lucky if we're done by 9:00 (plus we had to pay admission on top of recital and costume fees). Seems a bit much for dancers, teachers, and families.

On the plus side, the elementary school is not having their annual musical performance this year. For the past two years they've put on 2-hour musical shows, performed three times (2 evening, 1 matinee) to a full gymnasium. Two years ago it was a patriotic program, last year an earth-day program. The shows started at 7:00 p.m. on school nights, and the teachers had to babysit their students and keep them quiet during the shows (how unjust). Perhaps after the environmental show my conservative neighbors complained about liberal brainwashing, thus suspending the grand tradition--if so, I thank them.

I know my parents, siblings, and friends sat through marathon choir concerts (and piano recitals) each December and May when I was in high school, and I never heard them complain. I'm not so generous. I say, leave us wanting more.

Thank you for your time.

competitive dance

As I sat in the bleachers watching six-year-olds swing their hips and audience members whoop in appreciation, I asked myself a question Nick would later echo: What are we teaching our daughters? I also thought as I sat that the competitive dance scene must be similar to the beauty pageant circuit: stage moms, girls in expensive costumes, painted faces, curled and heavily sprayed up-do’s. Not my scene.

When we signed up for the dance class in October, we weren’t aware that it was a competing team, and by the time we knew, daughter A wanted to continue. So, here we were, having woken early, driven two hours to a 90 minute practice followed by 2 hours for hair make-up (I kid not). I wasn’t thrilled that my 11-year-old daughter wore more make-up than I ever have in my life, but I realized that stage make-up shouldn’t bother me too much—after all, I wouldn’t mind if she wore full make-up to perform in a Shakespeare play. But what put us (N & I) over the edge was that the teacher insisted the girls apply fake-tan make-up, and removed my daughter’s glasses before she performed. Apparently looking a certain way is more important than seeing correctly.

In answer to my above question, then, we’re teaching our daughters that appearance is important. I’m not one to disagree. We constantly judge books by their covers, houses by curb appeal, people by appearance. And how we look, or our perception of how we look, affects the way we act and interact with others. In competitive dance it’s not about finding your perfect individual look, but about everyone achieving “the look.” One group of dancers all wore white boots, flashy green flapper dresses, and long blond wigs. Their look was uniform and striking.

Another small group—only six dancers—was striking in other ways. The first group of the afternoon, they set a high bar for subsequent dancers. Their moves were right on, they all did center splits and standing splits, they were all a similar height and shape (thin), and appeared to be about nine years old. They were so professional that I wondered, Where do they go from here? and How did they get to this point? As I looked around I could glimpse the answers to the questions—from here, they could have long careers competing and winning awards. These girls were on track to be professional dancers, teachers, and judges. And these girls may have started competing at three or four years old.

So, a second message we might be sending our daughters is to train hard and specialize from a young age. I resist the idea that young children should be specialists. I don’t like the idea of 8 year olds having to audition for a dance team. But then I think, why not? Our two oldest children attend schools they had to apply for. Some kids who applied didn’t get in. We’ve never done competitive sports because my kids didn’t want to and because no one ever encouraged them to try out. But some children from a young age show great talent and commitment for a particular sport—shouldn’t they have opportunities to go beyond community sports? I believe in academic gifted and talented programs—shouldn’t there also be gifted and talented programs for dancers?

I guess what bothers me is that it may not be the girls’ dream to be competitive dancers. I don’t like pushy parents and teachers, and I don’t like that we’re teaching our girls to compete. Even if dancers love it, dancing shouldn’t primarily be about competition. Dancing is meant to be seen, yes, but by appreciative audiences; competition is about doing what will please the judges. It’s not necessarily about having fun, developing talents, bringing joy to others, giving everyone equal opportunities to shine. The teachers are aware of what judges are looking for, so they make sure the group has a variety of formations and give solos to top dancers. For one of our group’s routines, the teacher had her young son perform a run of back-flips. The team took first place in their division, and most positive comments were about the boy. One judge commented that the teacher should put him in more, so for the next competition she will. Never mind that he’s not in the class.

Competition can also mean sacrificing oneself for the team. I remember being in a dance line competition in high school. I’d pulled my right hamstring at the competition, but for the final performance the choreographers and advisors suggested I do the splits anyway and heal later (instead, I faked it). Competitive dance certainly isn’t the only place where coaches advise children and teens to work through the pain—football, track, swimming, basketball, baseball, cycling—in every sport you can find coaches who give bad advice (and other coaches who care more about their players than about winning) and players who have suffered serious injury or become addicted to pain killers.

This entry is long and I haven’t even gotten into hip swaying. Frankly, I think it’s cute when my 3-year-old wiggles her hips, so I understand how an audience would think the same about 6-year-olds. Dance is about bodies in motion—dance is sensual. I’m not sure at what point shimmying becomes suggestive. The standing splits show strength and flexibility, as well as the girl’s crotch. I don’t recall any of the dances I saw being overtly sexual, but most were flirtatious. We’re teaching our daughters to pop their chests and wiggle their hips—to flirt with their audience—to what end?

I’m not sure about the answers to my questions. Competitive dance is not my scene, and I hope my daughters decide it’s not theirs. Why? I don’t love the emphasis on appearance, conformity, judging, and competition. On the other hand, I love to dance and think my daughters are good dancers. If they choose to compete, I hope that they can enjoy being part of a team and recognize that eye shadow need not be an everyday thing, life isn’t primarily about pleasing other people, sexy isn’t the same as beautiful, and flirtation should be selectively practiced.

adult cliques

My ideas here are half-formed--sort of thinking aloud.

Just read the Help. Made me think about race, class, the South, and how it's easier to change laws than attitudes--the 23 year old racists in the book would now be about 70; their racist children approaching 50. I wonder how different things are than they were 50 years ago. But that's another conversation.

Right now I'm more interested in ideas Stockett raises about adult social groups (you may want to skip this paragraph if you haven't read the book). Plenty of movies portray mean high school girls and their awful cliques, but Stockett shows that adults can be just as mean and exclusionary. Poor Celia--white trash who married money--knows where she wants to fit in, but doesn't recognize that she never will. One great thing Stockett does is to make readers think that maybe Celia and Skeeter should be friends (at least, I was thinking they should), only to have Celia reject the idea because Skeeter is socially unacceptable. Delicious, stinging irony. But then, other than being outcasts, what would Celia and Skeeter have in common? They may not belong in the Junior League, but nor do they belong together.

What can be tricky about adult social experience is knowing where we fit in--for, as much as we disparage cliques, most or all of us want to belong to groups. In high school I had 80 extra-curricular activities and 1200 peers from which to choose. As an adult, I have to look farther. Perhaps I should say, as someone who spends most of my time at home, because for many people the work place is a sort of club. Church, book group, PTA are other sorts of adult clubs. Online, you can find any and every sort of group, but it's not the same as being in the same room.

But in The Help, adult sociality looks pretty similar to high school. I got thinking that perhaps this continuation of high school cliques is primarily prevalent when adults settle where they grew up. Maybe all around me are people who, having essentially never moved, live under similar social pressures to those depicted by Stockett.

As a transplant, I haven't really thought about what it would be like to run into high school friends every time I go to Costco. For better and for worse, whoever I was and whatever I did in high school are largely irrelevant now. My neighbors don't know my parents or siblings, my history. I am my current thoughts, actions, clothes, haircut, husband, children, house. The lack of history can be freeing, but sometimes lonely--even after 12 years in a town. I guess that's what the internet is for.

school choice

It's a great thing to go to a school function and see many of your neighbors there and feel like part of a community. It's a wonderful thing to see your child walking to school with neighbors. Neighborhood schools support communities, and strong communities support neighborhood schools.

School choice, on the other hand, fractures communities. A friend who choiced her kids out of the neighborhood says, "It's like moving out to the country." Probably worse--out in the country, I expect the school is still a center of the community and people know each other.

But even worse than the weakening of communities is the effect of school choice on neighborhood schools. Strong schools may not notice the effect of competition--in fact, they tend to benefit. Weak schools, on the other hand, get weaker. Our previous neighborhood school was such a school. About 80% of kids receive free or reduced-price lunch, and about 50% of students are Hispanic, many of whom are learning English as a second language. About half the school population lives near the school; the other half are bused in from a poorer area of town. The school faculty are very good. The principal is a strong leader who knows everyone and responds quickly to concerns. My children always had good--sometimes excellent-- teachers. But when there's a mandate that no child be left behind and half the students are behind, the students that are ahead might not get much attention.

Soon after the school was built 9 years ago, charter schools started popping up. Families of high-achieving students, weary of all that our Title I school had to offer, soon gravitated toward halls filled with happy children, conservative values, and statues of Ronald Reagan. I don't know the numbers of students who fled, but PTA lost many involved parents. We still had a core of hard-working, good-hearted moms who keep the PTA going. But it's hard to be one of the few, year after year. I didn't last long. I was contemplating driving our oldest to a gifted & talented program in a neighboring town when our district finally, amazingly decided to start a program. And because our district leaders believe in equal access, they even provide busing.

And then we moved, choosing our location in part due to its proximity to "good" schools. We're just north of the junior high that our oldest would attend if he hadn't chosen the new GT magnet at the high school. Our second attends the magnet for 4-6 graders. Our third child walks to the neighborhood school, where I do not plan to send our fourth. Before we got here I contacted the principal to ask what enrichment and acceleration they offered in math, as our second grader had done second grade math as a first grader (thanks to the responsive principal and accommodating teachers at the Title I school); our new principal responded, "None." My husband wants me to get involved instead of opting out, and part of me thinks I should, but most people seem happy with the school. I just arrived, and change takes time. I'm impatient and tired.

I curse George W (for many things) and his colleagues, who turned public schools into test-prep centers and then cried for options like charter schools that are much less fettered by regulations. I laud the parents who strengthen their neighborhood schools, empathize with parents who don't, and am grateful for district leaders who provide options.

We're happy with the schools we've chosen, but there are trade-offs. With our older children, we've given up something of convenience and community; With our third, we've chosen community over intellectual challenge. With choice, trade-offs are a given, I think.

for the record

One point I tried to make in my earlier "having it all" entry is that I don't need my husband to do half the housekeeping--nor do I want him to if it means I'm expected to earn half the household income. Before we married, he proposed we split household duties equally, which was a novel idea that I wasn't about to refuse. At the time it made sense, since we were both working students. We've since become more specialized, more traditional, and that works for us. I don't mind doing laundry, dishes, grocery shopping, cooking dinner--and most days, that's about the extent of my housekeeping. N hates laundry, but doesn't seem to mind yard work and home repair/improvement--and therefore does nearly 100%. Everyone has to figure out what works for them.

t.v.

While paging through a parenting magazine in a doctor's office I read this advice for healthy marriages: Spend at least 5 hours per week alone together (watching t.v. doesn't count). Call me unimaginative, but what on earth would we do for 5 hours alone, every week? And besides, what's wrong with watching t.v. together?

I don't love t.v. As a teenager I imagined raising bilingual children who snacked on veggies and didn't watch t.v. Instead, our children are decidedly monolingual (the two older kids are taking Latin), live on sugar, and drift from screen to screen. I married a man who likes screens. We have 3 large-screen t.v.s, 2000 channels (give or take), Roku, Netfliks, 3 video game systems, personal hand-held devices, multiple computers. When designing this house N stipulated that we needed to be able to see the t.v. easily from the kitchen or he'd never cook again.

But one great thing about t.v. is that once our kids are watching something they agree upon, they don't fight. And more than that, there's something to be said for shared experience--even if it's a t.v. show, video game, or movie. (Frankly I don't understand the rationale some people have that it's o.k. to watch movies and play video games, but not watch t.v.)

There are several shows we've watched as a family: American Idol (a couple seasons--not this one yet); Amazing Race (one season); Friday Night Lights, which is great for introducing topics like sex education; Glee (parental discretion also advised); and most recently, Top Gear (N and I have other shows we watch after the kids go to bed). Maybe not as memorable and worthwhile as sledding or baseball, but t.v. can nonetheless encourage discussion, good feelings, and a sense of community. If I had to choose between reading different books in the same room or watching the same show together, I'd say that a good show shared brings a greater sense of togetherness than the literature unshared.

N recently remarked, "You should watch more t.v. while you fold laundry." To which I replied, "Maybe you should do more laundry while you watch t.v." Then one day when I'd allowed 3 batches to pile up (spread across my bed to minimize wrinkling), I turned on the Daily Show while I folded. And you know what? N was right. Folding wasn't a chore, and I didn't feel guilty about watching t.v. (funny thing--just today at book group a friend said she allows clean laundry to pile up for that reason). But usually I fold laundry one batch at a time with my 2 year old nearby, so I don't watch t.v. And N has not yet tried my suggestion.

back to the books

After months of reading nothing but student papers, I love having time to read books again. The problem is that once I start a good book I don't want to put it down til I reach the end. I am better than I once was at closing my book at a decent hour and saving it for when work is done, but if I have to choose between grading papers and reading my book, I certainly would prefer the latter. So, here's what I read in January:

Beekeeper's Apprentice, by Laurie King. Enjoyable, would be great for book group. Set in UK around WWII. A sharp young lady meets the retired Sherlock Holmes and becomes his apprentice.

One Sunday when E was napping with N, and my Beekeeper's Apprentice was in their napping room, I picked up The Lightning Thief, by Rick Riordan. Our three older kids (and most of my students) have read this book, so I figured I should read it to be culturally literate. It's a fun read and well-done, and although Beekeeper's has a more advanced vocabulary, older characters, and more complex situations and relationships, both books are mysteries and coming-of-age stories.

After the first two, I guess I had caught the reading bug, because then I picked up an epic: The Children's Book, by A. S. Byatt. Almost 900 pages (paperback), spanning several families and about 25 years, filled with historical and cultural references, symbolism, and allegories, this was not a quick read. For the first 100 pages I had a tough time keeping track of all the characters, and somewhere in the middle I wondered if sex was going to be the main theme for the rest of the book. But I liked how Byatt approached many themes--gender, class, war, activism, industrialism, religion, emperialism, sex, marriage, death, art/craft--from multiple perspectives. And I found that the historical & cultural context enriched the story (though I'm not a great student of history and skimmed much), and the story brought the context to life.

I should probably focus on other things (papers, exercise, laundry, my family) for a few days before immersing myself in another book. The next will be short and sweet: A Room with a View (for book group).

skim milk

I should have known, based on tight waistbands, but the scale's verdict is worse than expected. I consider my options. A couple relatives have recently had success with Weight Watchers, but I lack the commitment (money, time, effort). If I go on a diet, I know I'll think of nothing but food. So, I try to think long term: six from now, I'd like to be 5 pounds lighter. Shouldn't be tough. All I need to do is exercise a few times a week and eat sensibly. That night I bake brownies.

Next day, I reduce portion sizes. Smaller meals, fewer snacks. I tell myself to keep desserts to 100 calories: fun size candy bars, 1 cookie, small bowl of pudding, or 2 bites of cheesecake. I tell myself it's good to feel a little hungry sometimes. For about 2 weeks I stick to my plan (not much exercise, since it's fall semester and I'm swamped) and lose 2 pounds. Then comes December . . . ("I give myself very good advice, but I very seldom follow it," Alice in Wonderland.)

The one benefit of being sick the first week of January is that I take off the 2 pounds that I regained in December. If I'm lucky I can go with the momentum, but I lack resolve. Someone has a baby--I bake cookies. We go out for ice cream--I order premium. Someone has a birthday--I make cake balls (carrot cake, cream cheese frosting, coconut/white chocolate/butterscotch coatings).

So, here's my long-term solution: skim milk. If 1500 calories = 1 lb., then I should lose a pound per month without having to cut desserts, count calories, or join a gym.

N and the kids complain: skim milk is an abomination--what's it doing in our fridge (never mind the 3 gallons of 1%)? I'm not convinced either--after 17 years of 1%, I find that skim tastes like water. Besides, I'm concerned that skim milk will give me a false sense of calorie savings and I'll compensate by adding elsewhere.

The only weight-loss programs that have worked for me were marrying a thin guy with undiagnosed acid reflux (he ate small portions, slowly) and nursing babies (we're done). I'm glad that N can eat like a normal person now (for the past several years, in fact), but his gain is my gain.

A neighbor recently told me has never been into making lavish meals or spending money at good restaurants--she just doesn't care much about food. Weird. I never knew there were people who didn't care about food.

But, then, I guess you wouldn't expect a person who calls her blog "Cake balls" to be thin.