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June 29, 2006 Got Your Bucket? 
Erik went to get the groceries, and Frances began improvising to the tune of Frere Jacques: Where is Daddy? And if that isn't so nauseatingly cute that you need to go throw up now, Dear Readers, you need to work on your gag reflex. You might think that I'm working overtime to hide the crap. That she can't possibly be that cute, that adorable, that perfect. You can continue to think this if you'd like, but you would be wrong. You might also think that I have hell coming when she turns 13. This is very likely. All the more reason to enjoy it while it lasts; later that same evening, to the same tune: Mommy Mommy And what else can I do, really, but stand stock-still with a huge goofy grin on my face while my melted heart puddles on the floor around my feet? No one else could possibly find this interesting. I've become that annoying woman who stops random strangers and forces them to smile while I show them each and every wallet photo of my child (speaking of which, APL, I carry a photo of her feet with me. It's true), only it's not the grocery line or the bus stop, it's the internet. Say, you! Hi! I know you came here to find pictures of someone with hypochondroplasia, or what to do when an ultrasound shows a short femur, or the price of the very rare beagle beanie baby you got ten years ago, but wouldn't you rather hear about how gob-smackingly amazingly fabulous Frances is? No, really. Well, tough luck, you're going to hear about it anyway. So for instance, sometimes she says, "Mommy?" Andrea: Frances? Frances: Yes, Mommy? Andrea: Yes, Frances? Frances: *giggles* What shocks me most of all is that motherhood just about killed me for the first nine months. I recall many a sunny and desperate afternoon spent sobbing quietly at the window, waiting for Erik to get home, thinking, "Oh god, I want to go back to work!" Irony is a cruel goddess who will wait until you are at your most relaxed and peaceful and then stab you in the back. For the first year, the blog was filled with stories of how absolutely impossible it all was, how I was cracking apart at the seams, how all of society had to be reorganized (preferably by Tuesday following) to make mothering even remotely doable; and I took a lot of flak for it, too. "Friends," the kind of "friends" you put in double-quotation marks and sneer involuntarily when you say their names, told me I had best shut my trap because I was terrifying the pregnant girls. Equal blog time was given to documenting Frances's sure and steady march to World Domination via the achievement of developmental milestones and to the minute and fleeting daily moments that really do make it all worthwhile, even when the little satanist is waking you up every 45 minutes for weeks at a time, but I was given to understand that dishonesty in this was by far the best policy and it was best to keep pregnant women wrapped in a cotton-candy coccoon of Hallmarkese observations on the transition to motherhood. I laughed at them, drew myself up to my full internet height and declared that I would never write anything but the truth. If the truth is that motherhood both kills you and elevates you, then that's what I'll say, and anyone who doesn't want to hear it is invited to subscribe to the Lifetime Network. Imagine my great surprise when almost immediately following this exchange Frances morphed into Perfect Child, Child Who Sleeps All Night, Child Who Never Cries, Child Who Eats Everything, Child Who Charms Everyone. Imagine when my honest portrayal of motherhood began to veer off into the hallucinogenic state of sugar trees and candy houses simply because Frances refused to be anything but angelic. Imagine when, day after day, I cracked open the blog and could only write, "Wow, she's amazing, I love being her Mom!" It happens to be true. It also happens to be saccharine and very, very boring (and yet people keep reading it). Andrea: *tweaking Frances's nose* I love this little nose! Frances: *poking her own cheek* And this chubby little cheek! I'm being spoiled rotten by this kid. It can't last. If this were a movie, deep rumbling music would be swelling to a crescendo as I type. If this were an ancient Greek play, the chorus would be singing, "Beware! Beware!" If this were a book, the pace would be slowing in anticipation of the coming climax, detailed and minute descriptions of setting would show minor and symbollic flaws to foreshadow the events to come. And, like any one of the minor blond characters of horror movies, I'm traipsing off gaily into the basement. Whatever could that strange noise have been? If you think Beanie Baby is too sweet, too sappy, too cloying ... you're right, but it's also honest. You have two options: you can run like hell and swear never to come back, or you can wait for the other shoe to drop. Any mother of a child will tell you it can't stay this way forever. But I really, really wish it would. Posted by Andrea at June 29, 2006 11:23 AM under Beanie Baby Brags EMAIL this entry (comments fields are below this section) Comments Thank you, I'm having a crappy day at work and you reminded me of what life is really about! I love my daughter like you love yours and I can't wait until she sings Mommy Mommy Mommy to the tune of Frerer Jacques -- how lucky we both are. Thanks for writing about your life it helps me keep my own in proper perspective. Posted by: arline at June 29, 2006 11:53 AM
Saccharine and boring?!? Sure the cuteness and amazingness of Frances are a big draw here, but what makes it not at all boring is the way you make connections between ideas. Boring? no way. Posted by: Susan at June 29, 2006 12:02 PM
No need to feel apologetic. Frances is who she is, and you are only being truthful when you report not only your feelings in the early days of how hard it all is, but of your joy in seeing something as small as a dimple on Frances' perfect foot. Motherhood is like that. They never tell you that there are a series of challenges that come with motherhood -- not being prepared for the wave of love that washes over you when you look at your child; the days where all you want to do is just sleep; how hard it is to reconcile yourself just as "Mom" and no longer a lawyer, or teacher, or activist. Motherhood is rife with odd juxtapositions like that. At least you're being faithful and recording them all. We come here because we like it here. Whether the stories are about Frances, or about articles you've read, or how to raise worms -- WE DON'T CARE. We'll be reading, no matter what the content is. Of course, more Frances doesn't hurt. Posted by: KLee at June 29, 2006 12:07 PM
I think it is really important to be honest about our experiences with pregnancy and motherhood. I have a pregnant friend who said that I was the first person who was honest with her about how rotten I felt through a lot of my pregnancy, when she asked about it. And she feels better now, because she thought it was just her. Same goes for motherhood - you love your child and sometimes it's perfect and magical, and sometimes it's lousy. Posted by: Tara at June 29, 2006 1:03 PM
Thank you. I have noticed over the past fifteen months or so that when things are great and I have no major tragedies to report, readership levels off, and then as soon as the shit hits the fan it goes up. It's hard to avoid the conclusion that for at least some people, one is more interesting when one is crying. Which is normal, I know, otherwise why would everyone rubberneck at car accidents? And why else do action movies do so well? But it's good to hear that I'm not completely boring when things are going well. :) Posted by: Andrea at June 29, 2006 1:19 PM
My previous comment got eaten. Which is appropriate since it was about eating your toddler whole. Because she is just that delicious! Posted by: liz at June 29, 2006 2:02 PM
I sure hope that it lasts forever for you Andrea! (I, for one, enjoy the gobsmacking cuteness immensely!) Posted by: Miche at June 29, 2006 4:22 PM
I don't understand how lying about parenting can be good for anyone. Knowing a wide array of possible challenges or utter crap can help you determine whether you're up to slogging through it all. This is good for women who are put off from pregnancy and also for pregnant women, because the earlier they know, the more time they have to buck up and commit. Frances has not behaved according to any rule book, and isn't that what she teaches us? She may be as beloved and enviable a teenager as she is a toddler. This may be karma rather than a balance requiring current good to become later evil. I would think the way she strives for independence and the way she interacts with kids now could be a marker. I hope you are just being polite about the alleged boredom. If Frances Fabulousness were boring, I could lurk! Reading this has the effect I think Lifetime wants, except that your blog is genuine and never demoralizing: I laugh out loud, I cry, I have hope for humankind, I am sincere when using cliches! Posted by: moonrose at June 29, 2006 4:55 PM
First, Frances kills me with the cuteness. Second, you're so right about readership dropping when times are good. I notice I get a lot more return visitors when I'm cranky and sarcastic than when I'm thoughtful and lovey-dovey. I guess, in the blog world, you can catch more flies with vinegar. Posted by: Casey at June 29, 2006 5:01 PM
It's not boring. Not at all. Not the way you write about it. You're honest about everything to do with her, which is great. She seems like a lovely little girl and she'll probably grow up to be a lovely big girl. I make no promises about the teen years, however. All bets are off when it comes to puberty. *shudder* Posted by: julia at June 29, 2006 5:07 PM
yes misery loves company. i just like to think when Silas is bad, some other mom is having good times. super cutie frances! Posted by: Bridget at June 29, 2006 6:40 PM
Boring??? Never! How could such cuteness be boring? Frances-time is like sunshine, it just brightens my day. Posted by: Sue at June 29, 2006 10:43 PM
I like beanie baby for being all it can be! Posted by: gawdessness at June 30, 2006 8:14 AM
I can't think of a day that I don't check on how you are doing, how Frances if fairing. I cry at the injustices of the what entails being small. I aww at her cuteness. And I just love your blog! She's a beauty as is her family! Reading your blog puts a bit of normalcy in my day. It's never boring or mundane. Keep doing what you're doing, both of you!! Posted by: LauraJ at July 2, 2006 5:27 PM
You know, I think Frances is just about as cute as you do, and Ive got kids of my own. :) Posted by: Adria at July 2, 2006 10:32 PM
Go Berserk |
Change is God (Octavia Butler, Parable Series) "If the writer is a socially privileged person--particularly a White or a male or both--his imagination may have to make an intense and conscious effort to realize that people who don't share his privileged status may read his work and will not share with him many attitudes and opinions that he has been allowed to believe or pretend are shared by 'everybody.' Since the belief in a privileged view of reality is no longer tenable outside privileged circles, and often not even within them, fiction written from such an assumption will make sense only to a decreasing, and increasingly reactionary, audience. Many women writing today, however, still choose the male viewpoint, finding it easier to do so than to write from the knowledge that feminine experience of reality is flatly denied by many potential readers, including the majority of critics and professors of literature, and may rouse defensive hostility and contempt. The choice, then, would seem to be between collusion and subversion; but there's no use pretending that you can get away without making a choice. Not to choose, these days, is a choice made. All fiction has ethical, political and social weight, and sometimes the works that weigh the heaviest are those apparently fluffy or escapist fictions whose authors declare themselves 'above politics,' 'just entertainers,' and so on." Ursula le Guin Email Frances! frances AT athenadreaming DOT org You can email her mother too (that's me):
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