DC Metro Moms

A Promise Is A Promise

The "blogosphere" is a strange world to enter.  There are no real guidebooks or maps.  Your starting point may be your first, "hello, is anyone out there?" post, but you have no real idea what the final destination is or what the milestones along the way are (oh, sure, you may THINK you know what they are, but you don't REALLY know what they are).  And while there are certainly a lot of statistics (How many readers?  How many uniques?  How many subscribers? How many return visitors?  How many Twitter followers? Blah, blah, blah.), there isn't really a great way to measure your journey through the blogosphere.

So I consider it pure coincidence and happenstance that I ran into a bunch of great bloggers at the beginning of my blogging journey, actually pre-Caffeine And A Prayer and learned about the Silicon Valley Moms Blog Group and the DC Metro Moms Blog.  Back then I only had a private, for-the-family-only blog, but I knew I was going to launch a public blog soon.  And I decided when I did, I wanted to be able to be a writer for DC Metro Moms.

Of my checklist of things to accomplish with my fledgling blog, receiving SV Moms Blog founder Jill Asher's call was one of my most thrilling.

The iPhone Is Breaking Up Our Family (Plan)!

Apple's iPhone has caused quite a bit of discord in our family.  Debate over it has caused many phone calls, trips to the mall, conversations with friends and family members, and ultimately, a divorce.  A cell phone plan divorce, that is.

Yes, we're going splitsville.  Our family plan is headed to Divorce Court and the final decision is who gets custody of my mother -- who uses maybe 10 minutes a month and has minimal requirements of a phone.

I'll take responsibility for being the plan-wrecker.  I'm the one with the wandering eye.  Sure, my Verizon enV2 was good enough for me when I got it not quite two years ago.  But then my iPod Touch entered my life -- I just happened to win it in an online contest.  Suddenly I was lurking at iTunes at all hours of the night, using gift cards to update my music collection, and one thing led to another, and there I was, at the App Store.  No one warned me the iPod Touch was the gateway drug to the iPhone, but it is.  Because once you start downloading apps, you want them all the time, but stray away from home and you realize that sadly, you can't have your apps at your beck and call, because you don't have your wireless access everywhere.  What's a girl to do?

Start coveting an iPhone.

Oil-filled Tears -- Watching the Gulf Spill From Afar

I am an oddly apolitical person living in the political epicenter of our nation.  And though I care about the Earth we live on, I certainly do not deem myself even on the spectrum of "environmentalists" as I have not taken the time to educate myself on most of the issues.  No, I'm just little 'ole me, trying not to ruin my own little corner of the world by recycling what I can and remembering to bring in my reusable grocery bags whenever I can.

And yet, I have been riveted... in horror... by all news related to the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico from the BP oil rig accident.  The sheer magnitude of it has been mind-blowing.  The long-term environmental impact inestimable.  While my hometown, Miami, is different in many ways from the gulf areas of Louisiana and Mississippi, there are many similarities as well.  A healthy love for and respect of the ocean and all the creatures in it.  A great dependence upon tourism.  And an understanding of the significance of marshlands and the fragile ecosystem that lives within them.

Potty Parity Not Just a Gender Thing

There's a whole lot of potty talk going on at the federal government level.  The Committee on Oversight and Government Reform held a legislative hearing Wednesday regarding H.R. 4869, the Restroom Gender Parity in Federal Buildings Act which addresses the fact that most older federal buildings have far more bathrooms for men than for women.

When many of these buildings were created, women were not considered equal or primary users of the building (gasp, who could imagine women in Congress or the Supreme Court?)  According to the hearings, as recently as the '90s, there were no restrooms near the Senate floor for female Senators, instead they had to seek relief further away and stand in line at a ladies room with the tourists.

Despite all the jokes about women going to ladies rooms in pairs and the secrecy of "what goes on in there," access to restrooms is actually a health issue.  Women who fear that they will not have access will often try to consume fewer liquids and "hold it" which can lead to urinary tract issues, abdominal pains, cystitis and similar issues.  For pregnant women and older women who deal with incontinence, there are also the issues of stress and anxiety.

There are indeed differences in how men and women use restrooms and this leads to longer lines for women's restrooms than men's restrooms.  They should be constructed differently and often there should be a different ratio of toilets needed for each gender's restroom.

As a mother of young children, I have spent far more time in public restrooms than I ever would like to.  And I'd like to throw in a few other factors to consider to anyone building new restrooms, whether in a federal building or elsewhere.

Kicking Out The Other Woman

There's another woman living in my closet.

She apparently wears size 8 shoes and a lot of pantyhose.  If I tried to squeeze my size 8.5/9 feet into those shoes, it would look like the scene in Cinderella where the evil stepsisters try to make the glass slipper fit.  Not pretty.  As for pantyhose, ha!  I can probably count the number of times I wear pantyhose in a given year on one hand.

And yet there are drawers and drawers of them in my closet -- a rainbow of nudes, tans, whites, off-whites, off-blacks and jet-blacks.  Mostly control tops, but a few thigh highs and knee highs.  The sheer volume of sheer hosiery is awe-inspiring -- who is this woman who requires such a selection of stockings?

Apparently a part of me that I left behind quite some time ago.

The Demise of the Prom Dress

It appears I have prematurely turned into a grumpy old lady, as my sense of decency far outweighs my sense of "style."  I base this horrifying conclusion on my reactions to the parade of prom fashions I was treated to while sitting in the hotel lobby during a conference this past weekend.  Fortunately I was in good company as two other (young) grumpy old ladies were right next to me, sharing the lobby couch, remarking on the dresses (not loud enough for the teens to hear of course) as we watched them walk by.

One wore what I could only describe as The Streetwalker's Delight -- a skintight lycra black dress that was so short it just barely curved under her buttocks.  I really don't see how she could have sat down in the dress, much less danced in it, without revealing her underwear (if she wore any, as I know wearing underwear is also terribly out of fashion these days).  This was worn without stockings and with a very shiny pair of 4" heels gold pumps. 

There were several versions of what I'd call the Where's The Skirt? model of prom dress -- my fellow critiquers were wondering if perhaps the Recession had caused people to simply buy half a dress.  These girls wore dresses with a bodice and then what appeared to be the beginning of a ruffled skirt, but it stopped short, waaaay short, as if someone had been interrupted while sewing it.  Or perhaps there was some Cinderella-and-her-evil-stepsisters types of a fight in the dressing room and the remaining ruffles were torn off.  Once again, I am not sure how they managed to sit down, breathe, or dance, because half an inch of movement and all would be revealed.

Life's Little Checklists

Packing our small family of four for a vacation is more challenging than running any cross-functional team project I handled in my pre-kids professional life.  JavaGirl is busy trying to fill the suitcase with plastic and rubber animals.  JavaBoy is packing his own suitcase with necessities like underwear and video games, but no actual clothes.  And JavaDad, bless him, well, he usually hasn't even made sure everything has made it through the laundry room 2 hours before launch time.  I walk through the house, muttering to myself about what I'm trying to retrieve from another room when someone will call out to ask me a question, have me break up a sibling fight, or come up with a theory for eliminating global hunger, or some other distraction.  Somehow, I never manage to get enough time alone in the house to pack without the revolving chaos I lovingly call my family.  This is why I can't survive Vacation without The Lists.

For years I have lived off my personal packing checklist.  The first one I created over a decade ago, to make sure I remembered everything (especially various laptop cables and cords) when traveling for business.  All it took was one ill-fated weekend "getaway" with a snoring JavaDad who had "forgotten" his sleep apnea CPAP machine for me to create his own, personalized version of the checklist.  Nothing says loving like not smothering your husband... that's all I'm saying.

I'm Finally Going to the White House

The first time I ever saw our nation's capital (and Capitol) was when my husband and I moved here in 2002.  It was a particularly moving time to do so -- so closely after the 9/11 attacks, when everything was still proudly draped with the American flag and everyone wore a red, white and blue ribbon.  And yet while patriotism was running high, so was security --  as new physical barriers went up, public access decreased significantly.

JavaDad drove me around pointing out monument after monument, but what I really wanted to see was the White House.  After all, the TV show West Wingwas in full swing at that time, and I just itched to see the real thing, in all its grandeur.  Though Capitol Hill is where things supposedly happen, it is the White House that we think of when those of us who didn't grow up here think of Washington, DC.  He slowed the car a little and said, "There it is."  Where?  "That's it!"  It was so far away, I had to squint to see it.  A very unsatisfying experience indeed.

We've gotten a little bit, but not much closer when we've visited DC on foot.  I was invited on a tour once, but couldn't go due to schedule conflicts, and this year when I would've been able to go, my group was told our Congressman couldn't get us a tour.  I have a fun and (to me) impressive circle of friends, but I'm not yet on the guest list for White House fetes (for either political party).  I keep checking my mailbox though, just in case.

Snowmageddon: The Meltdown

Between the last two snow storms I had a few blissful hours of hurriedly running errands while roads were "clear" enough to hit the streets but before the next storm came rolling in.  I was focusing on the mess of traffic in front of me when I half-heard one of the announcers on WTOP talking about how important it was that we "keep things moving" before nightfall, even if that meant extending unusual courtesies.

Not an hour later I watched an amazing scene where a woman drove her car partway into traffic, blocking traffic and proceeded to get out of her car and yell at cars that were honking at her.  She actually started tapping on windows and gesturing wildly at the drivers.  Although I understand why -- we were in a parking lot and none of the cars on the main road were allowing those of us who needed to get OUT of the parking lot to get out -- they were just blocking our exit every time the light turned red.  It took 45 minutes after her lecture to the drivers until I got to make my lefthand turn, and then my forward movement was thwarted by a woman several cars ahead getting stuck.  Cars honked at her -- because that's a big help -- and as soon as they could swerve into the oncoming traffic lane (that's safe!), the cars drove around her.  I pulled up behind her and got out, as did the man in the car behind me (with the cars behind us honking) and together, with the help of my freshly purchased kitty litter, we provided enough traction to get her unstuck and on her way so the rest of us could move.

Tempers are flaring around the DC Metro area.  In my neighborhood it is about the condition of our roads, which are a shoddy combination of several-inches-thick ice, and potholes of melted slush, with some areas of slick ice.  At any point in the day you can ride down the street and suddenly encounter an abandoned car that blocks part or all of the road -- someone who got stuck and couldn't figure out a way to get unstuck.  It took my husband THREE HOURS to go five miles Saturday night, and over an hour of that was .9 miles straight down our street.

Not The Snow Mother I Wanted To Be

I usually love it when it snows.  As soon as I know we are going to have a big storm, I get the supplies for snow cream and snow candy almost before I worry about buying up ground beef, milk and bananas like the rest of the DC Metro Area.  Every year I make sure my kids have full snow gear: boots, ski bibs, parkas, hats, mittens, extra mittens to wear while the other ones are drying; just in case we get A BIG Snow!  This year I increased our sled stock from one multi-rider foam sled to include two round snow saucers.

And though I was prepared in every way -- we had all the fun gear, we had all the necessities, we even had all the emergency gear -- I just was not able to be the snow mom I wanted to be.  While I read friends' Facebook statuses of the fun they were having bonding as family during the time off from school and work during the snow storms (sledding, snowman building, playing board games), I was working under the gun on some deadlines.  Some were work-related, but most were volunteer-related and I was really mad at myself that it was unpaid work that was taking me away from family.  And yet, it was something I had made a serious commitment to, something that had a hard deadline, and something that had to be done.  And required a lot of phone calls.  A lot of emails.