Monthly Archives: May 2008

Activism, conservation, environment, Monkey, Otter

Baaoon Mama… Baaoon!

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99 dreams I have had
In every one a red balloon
It’s all over and I’m standin’ pretty
In this dust that was a city
If I could find a souvenir
Just to prove the world was here
And here is a red balloon
I think of you and let it go
— 99 Red Balloons Nena

Whenever I hear this song I think back to my youth, and get a sense of freedom and joy, an overwhelming desire to spin.

That desire popped, much like a balloon, as soon as I learned that we are depleting our helium reserves in the U.S., and the helium balloon, that amazing anti-gravity children’s toy, may not be around for my grandkids. Imagine not seeing the wonder in a baby’s face as he tries to figure out why this thing goes up… instead of down.

Helium is non-renewable and irreplaceable. There are pockets of the gas in Colorado, Kansas and Oklahoma and Russia has large pockets of natural gas, helium included, but there has not been a push to extract it. Further, a great deal of Helium is lost in the process of separating it from oil and natural gas. As the oil and gas are brought out of the ground, the Helium comes with them, but it is not captured as it releases, so it drifts up into the atmosphere and … away. The world’s largest pocket of Helium is located in the Texas Panhandle, and at our current rate of use, that reserve will be depleted by 2015.

In personal terms, this means Monkey will probably not have a balloon arch at her prom, and Otter may not be choosing a balloon from a vendor at a carnival by the time he is eight.

Helium can be produced directly in nuclear fusion reactors, and is an indirect side effect of fisson reactors, but the amount created by both these sources don’t begin to reach our current use. Basically, it has taken billions of years for the Earth to create our Helium stores, so it’s not really a build on demand kind of resource.

Helium can be recycled, and the larger industries users, such as NASA, do recycle it. However, any Helium released into the atmosphere is lost to the Earth forever, and there are no small users currently recycling the gas. To learn more, read up on the issue.

If we are not careful with our Helium, we will be waving goodbye to a childhood tradition, in addition to a scientific resource. This is such a amazing substance, with nothing else like it on earth. It is our connection to the unbelievable, the fantastic, the magical. Let’s do our best to keep it around.


“Bbvvoomm… Ma ma na… Baavmmm”
parenting

Is it Ground Hog Day or am I a Stay at Home Parent?

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There is nothing quite like stay at home parenting to make a person feel an overall sense of deja vu. My routine, for the most part, is pretty much the same, day in and day out. The list of my core duties goes on and on, but I won’t bore you with the details of it (it’s not necessary for this post).
I will say that of the number of mundane things I do each day I feel the strongest sense of deja vu while sweeping the floor. I have to sweep the floor every morning, because we have more pets than sense, and therefore a pet fur carpet if left unswept more than a day. (Go two days and we begin to get tumblefur.)

Lately I have been feeling an increased sense of having done this all before. This feeling is stronger than “Oh yeah, I did this yesterday!”. It’s a deeper sense of bone weary repetition. The mundane daily chores of life leave me feeling a distinct lack of …well distinctness in my day. It’s as if the days in my life are all merging into one, and I am living that one day over and over again. Like Bill Murray in Ground Hog Day.

I am sure this feeling is not mine alone, and is shared by other stay at home parents as well as people working outside the home. After all, there is nothing like a mundane 9-5 office job to make one’s days pass in a blur. However, I think the isolation of stay at home parenting increases the sense of futility that comes with these repeating chores. I mean, except for tumblefur, why bother sweeping the floor when I will only have to do it again the following day? Why wash the clothes when they will only get dirty again? All the work I do all day has no lasting accomplishment. I can’t point to it say “Look! I spent x hours building this amazing thing that will stand for all eternity!” I can say “Look! I scrubbed the floors last week with a new cleanser, and now they are… crud, now they are covered in pet hair and juice spots again.”

It’s a strange feeling, this sense of not doing anything lasting. Intellectually I recognize that raising my children and caring for them is lasting in a way nothing else really is, but that doesn’t mean I am able to step back and admire my handiwork at the end of a long day. Usually, I am only able to collapse on the sofa and mumble “the kids kicked my ass today… would you please get me a beer?” to my husband at the end of a long day.

There is no milestone for stay at home parents, nothing that makes us recognize that all our hard work has paid off this month, or this week, or this year. We get to share in our kids accomplishments, and our those of our partner’s, but let’s face it, there aren’t a lot of childhood dreams that center on being house bitch, so no one is out there creating any House Bitch of the Year recognition plaques.

Monkey

Out of the mouths of babes…

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One of my favorite parts of motherhood is listening to the really crazy things that come out of my kids mouths. For example, when Monkey was 3, she was overheard saying “Where is the fucking trash can?” because her father and I hadn’t quite curbed our language enough. She has since learned not to say certain words, though she is fond of saying she can’t say them. “I know I can’t say damnit right mom? I can’t say damnit right? I am not supposed to say Damnit ’cause it’s a bad word, right Mom?” Oh yeah, she’s a lawyer’s kid. We have already had the “dam” v.s. “damn” discussion, and she is six. So, whattaya gonna do? Anyway, as Otter is beginning to speak, and Monkey is a font of interesting turns of phrase, I thought I would share a few of the odd conversations I have had this week.

“Is the baby hungry? Does Otter want some milk?” said I, in a disgustingly cute sing-song voice guaranteed to bring bile to the mouths of anyone overhearing me. “Can Otter say milk? Mama milk? Mama milk?”
“bbvvmm…… Boob” said Otter, repeating the word we have somehow all adopted to refer to breastmilk and patting me on the chest. Oh yeah, that one totally backfired on me, I am going to have the only one year old asking for boob. Great. Really, this will go over well in the more Stepford sections of my town. I am so glad I failed to listen to my friends when they warned me not to refer to breastmilk as something I didn’t want the kids repeating. Head-slam-desk.

Anyway, onto a little Monkey magic:
“Mom, I don’t know why, but Eric, not second grade Eric in Miss Galloway’s class but the other Eric, you know, the blonde Eric? Not the one that pushed me down last week at the playground but the other one? The one that’s been chasing me around at recess? Him? That Eric?”
“Yes Monkey, okay, what about Eric?” said a very exasperated and throughly lost Mommy.
“Well I don’t know why but he said he loves to hear me scream because it’s music to his ears, but I am still faster than him.” said a proud and oddly flattered Monkey.
“Great, either he really likes you, or he is a future serial killer. Just tell your teacher if he bothers you or scares you okay?” I said, freaked out a little at the scream statement (not too freaked out, I know the kid and his mom and I am sure he is just being a weird kid, but still).

More Monkey Madness;
“Mommy, what is an umbrella stroller?” asked Monkey.
“It’s a stroller that folds up and can be carried on your arm like an umbrella.” I said while going for drive-thru ice cream.
“Oh.. I thought it was a stroller with an umbrella, I bet it’s really heavy.” Monkey responded.
“Not really,” said her father “but what shape are the wheels do you think?”
“Uh… round Daddy. They wheels are round.” said Monkey, with a credible teenage What color is the red bus tone in her voice.
“Are you sure they aren’t square?” he persevered.
“Square wheels don’t roll Dad, square wheels don’t roll.” answered Monkey, in the exact same tone as Bruce Willis in Pulp Fiction when he said ‘Zed is dead baby, Zed is dead.’
We lost it, which had her repeating it ad nauseum in the hopes she would crack us up again.

There are more, but at this point, they are all melding into long conversation in my head so I am going to log off and go to bed. Have a good night everyone!!