It was 1997, two years before labor and environmental activists would shut down the World Trade Organization meeting in Seattle. I organized a trip for fellow Goucher students to lobby Senators from our home states against a particularly awful free trade, pro-multinational corporation agreement, the MAI.
We spent a grueling day with condescending, ignorant and arrogant staffers and senators, reducing some students to tears. The last stop of the day was Senator Wellstone's office. We were ushered into his office, the walls lined with bookshelves of familiar books-- Chomsky, Marx, Zinn, and others. Our spirits lifted as he thanked *us* for lobbying for fair trade and investment policies. We filed out, renewed.
This morning I related this little story to a group of about 15 tremendous youth group members at Shir Tikvah synagogue. We decided to organize a health care for all delegation to Senator Klobuchar's office.
Thanks for everything, Paul. We promise not to park the bus.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Friday, October 23, 2009
Nirvana.
AAAAGGGGHHHH!!!! (BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM)
WAAAUUUUUGGGHHHH!!!! (BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM)
This is the sound of toddler nirvana. Henry took Spence on a tour of his newly remodeled basement, and they came upon the professional drum set that belongs to Henry's mom. In addition to being pristine, tasteful and homey, it can be safely said that Team Mrotz's new basement boasts excellent acoustics.
Otherwise, highlights of the day include Nora devouring an entire jar of organic banana peach oatmeal (or some such combination) in one sitting, walking (holding onto my fingers) the equivalent of several city blocks, and perfecting shy cuteness as she grinned and snuggled into my chest upon being introduced to several strangers today (including community notable Tom Sengupta of Schneider's Drugs on University Ave).
I was betrayed by Dora the Explorer today. Spence tuned in as I prepared his penne and parmesan, and was immediately bombarded by Dora and her colleagues shouting "we all scream for ice cream", rowing a chocolate boat across a chocolate lake to win the ultimate prize-- ice cream. Dora and the narrator wagged their candied tongues incessantly about chocolate. Spence looked up and asked for ice cream; it took some skillful diversion to land him safely at lunch (involving, of course, tickling). It already seems too late for Spence to avoid inheriting my sweet tooth, which is ultimately not so funny or harmless, like most mainstays of the dominant culture.
It's late. I'm torn between the lull of sleep and the lure of solitude and a chance to write. Ah, I knew there was another highlight coming. Spence climbed into bed with Kristy, Nora and I this morning and carefully twined all our hands together, insisting we all had to go downstairs together.
That was the sound of parental nirvana.
WAAAUUUUUGGGHHHH!!!! (BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM)
This is the sound of toddler nirvana. Henry took Spence on a tour of his newly remodeled basement, and they came upon the professional drum set that belongs to Henry's mom. In addition to being pristine, tasteful and homey, it can be safely said that Team Mrotz's new basement boasts excellent acoustics.
Otherwise, highlights of the day include Nora devouring an entire jar of organic banana peach oatmeal (or some such combination) in one sitting, walking (holding onto my fingers) the equivalent of several city blocks, and perfecting shy cuteness as she grinned and snuggled into my chest upon being introduced to several strangers today (including community notable Tom Sengupta of Schneider's Drugs on University Ave).
I was betrayed by Dora the Explorer today. Spence tuned in as I prepared his penne and parmesan, and was immediately bombarded by Dora and her colleagues shouting "we all scream for ice cream", rowing a chocolate boat across a chocolate lake to win the ultimate prize-- ice cream. Dora and the narrator wagged their candied tongues incessantly about chocolate. Spence looked up and asked for ice cream; it took some skillful diversion to land him safely at lunch (involving, of course, tickling). It already seems too late for Spence to avoid inheriting my sweet tooth, which is ultimately not so funny or harmless, like most mainstays of the dominant culture.
It's late. I'm torn between the lull of sleep and the lure of solitude and a chance to write. Ah, I knew there was another highlight coming. Spence climbed into bed with Kristy, Nora and I this morning and carefully twined all our hands together, insisting we all had to go downstairs together.
That was the sound of parental nirvana.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Extreme Choo Choo Bob Makeover...
Our own train was a bit slow to get moving this morning (Nora gamely slept through the night while Spencer was overcome by hunger pangs, again, at 5am, and was raring to go afterwards), but by 9:30am we ventured out in the chilly spitting rain to Choo Choo Bob's.
Choo Choo Bob's is tantalizingly positioned a few doors down from Izzy's ice cream on one side, and Trotter's Bakery and Cafe on the other, yummy snack venues both. Bob's is a dream destination for parents and toddlers, boasting 6 kid-sized tables of toy trains in the back, and a massive 'grown-up' model train set up in front. I'd say about 10% of the parents end up buying the fairly expensive trains in shiny boxes along the walls; the other 90% of us enjoy ourselves and then slink guiltily out, not daring to look the kindly old proprietor-- I'll call him "Bob"-- in the eye.
This post is for him. And for us no good, free-loading parents. Redemption is possible.
Bob, there are a few things you need to know about us parents. We run on coffee; it's not a luxury. And those of us who are either middle-class or too dumb to notice we're not anymore, won't think twice about shelling out three or four bucks for a vat of Joe. Some prefer fair trade, organic, shade-grown... some want the coffee taste obliterated by cocoa and sugar and cream. Give us our coffee and we will make you rich, Bob.
And while we're at it, we love food on the go. Otherwise we mostly eat cheerios from the floor, pilfered yogurt and granola bars, spurned skins of fruit, and stealthily hidden sweets. Most non-mall kid places don't provide food we like (or food at all-- parks, playgrounds, pools, museums, aquariums, etc). So why not set up a little snack bar next to those tantalizing train tables? The goal should be reasonably healthy food that can be ready and neatly packaged in less than 30 seconds, eaten with one hand (or no hands) while juggling one or several screaming toddlers, etc, etc.
Bob, there's more. My toddler was enthralled by the trains, but my crawler faced hostile terrain-- unsavory carpet and bonks waiting to happen, not to mention yummy magnets on every chewable train. So, which of us wouldn't pay a buck to rent a bouncy chair for our babe while we're there? More revenue to be captured.
And while my kids are enraptured by trains, and bouncing happily away... I could really use a nap. Bob, I noticed a vacant, unlit 'party room' off to the side of the store. You could sound-proof the room and fill it with cots-- I'm talking army cots-- and who of us would not take you up on the offer of a parent nap? What, you say? Afraid for the kids? Hire an hourly sitter on the spot to watch your precious ones while you catch some shut-eye!
Bob? Bob, come back. These are good ideas. We could make a million bucks... Bob?
Choo Choo Bob's is tantalizingly positioned a few doors down from Izzy's ice cream on one side, and Trotter's Bakery and Cafe on the other, yummy snack venues both. Bob's is a dream destination for parents and toddlers, boasting 6 kid-sized tables of toy trains in the back, and a massive 'grown-up' model train set up in front. I'd say about 10% of the parents end up buying the fairly expensive trains in shiny boxes along the walls; the other 90% of us enjoy ourselves and then slink guiltily out, not daring to look the kindly old proprietor-- I'll call him "Bob"-- in the eye.
This post is for him. And for us no good, free-loading parents. Redemption is possible.
Bob, there are a few things you need to know about us parents. We run on coffee; it's not a luxury. And those of us who are either middle-class or too dumb to notice we're not anymore, won't think twice about shelling out three or four bucks for a vat of Joe. Some prefer fair trade, organic, shade-grown... some want the coffee taste obliterated by cocoa and sugar and cream. Give us our coffee and we will make you rich, Bob.
And while we're at it, we love food on the go. Otherwise we mostly eat cheerios from the floor, pilfered yogurt and granola bars, spurned skins of fruit, and stealthily hidden sweets. Most non-mall kid places don't provide food we like (or food at all-- parks, playgrounds, pools, museums, aquariums, etc). So why not set up a little snack bar next to those tantalizing train tables? The goal should be reasonably healthy food that can be ready and neatly packaged in less than 30 seconds, eaten with one hand (or no hands) while juggling one or several screaming toddlers, etc, etc.
Bob, there's more. My toddler was enthralled by the trains, but my crawler faced hostile terrain-- unsavory carpet and bonks waiting to happen, not to mention yummy magnets on every chewable train. So, which of us wouldn't pay a buck to rent a bouncy chair for our babe while we're there? More revenue to be captured.
And while my kids are enraptured by trains, and bouncing happily away... I could really use a nap. Bob, I noticed a vacant, unlit 'party room' off to the side of the store. You could sound-proof the room and fill it with cots-- I'm talking army cots-- and who of us would not take you up on the offer of a parent nap? What, you say? Afraid for the kids? Hire an hourly sitter on the spot to watch your precious ones while you catch some shut-eye!
Bob? Bob, come back. These are good ideas. We could make a million bucks... Bob?
Friday, October 9, 2009
MVP of the day: Handy Manny
It was a bloodbath today. Actually, there WAS blood, after Spence took a mean tumble from the swings at Brackett Park, but that was after I had pleaded with Kristy to come home at 3. The toughest parts came earlier, and were not as dramatic: antsy kids climbing the walls as I scramble to assemble Spencer snacks, change diapers, find weather-appropriate clothes, warm up bottles of milk and little jars of prune-oatmeal mush, and banish the sinister, negative voice in my head (remember the solitary confinement scene with Denzel Washington in "Hurricane"?)...
Things came to a head at 11am. We had not yet left the house because I let Nora take her morning nap in the comfort of home, rather than between carseats and baby bjorns and various unsavory carpeted floors. So Spence had the short straw. Yes, neighbors, that was the Team Snyder car careening back and forth today (let's go to the museum! "NOOO!" let's go to the cafe! "NOOOOO!" The car is thirsty, let's go get gas and make faces in the windows! "NOOOOOO"...) Finally... "do you want to go run around Target and we can get you Handy Manny tools? (pause) "Yes!"
My friend Larry (a veteran stay at home papa and butt-kicking tenants' rights attorney) told me our kids are unlikely to be ruined by something we do on a Tuesday. But he said nothing about several months, or more, of successive Mondays and Fridays.
Highlight: discovered new nose-to-nose rubbing move with baby Nora, to her delight. And she is absolutely, no holds barred, in the last few days, a crawler.
God help us...
Things came to a head at 11am. We had not yet left the house because I let Nora take her morning nap in the comfort of home, rather than between carseats and baby bjorns and various unsavory carpeted floors. So Spence had the short straw. Yes, neighbors, that was the Team Snyder car careening back and forth today (let's go to the museum! "NOOO!" let's go to the cafe! "NOOOOO!" The car is thirsty, let's go get gas and make faces in the windows! "NOOOOOO"...) Finally... "do you want to go run around Target and we can get you Handy Manny tools? (pause) "Yes!"
My friend Larry (a veteran stay at home papa and butt-kicking tenants' rights attorney) told me our kids are unlikely to be ruined by something we do on a Tuesday. But he said nothing about several months, or more, of successive Mondays and Fridays.
Highlight: discovered new nose-to-nose rubbing move with baby Nora, to her delight. And she is absolutely, no holds barred, in the last few days, a crawler.
God help us...
Saturday, October 3, 2009
I looked at the kid and thought, I want to give you a cow ride.
No, not Spencer. This was the older boy who had just run over to where we sat, grimacing with the unease of being late to Tot Shabbat services, and gave Spencer a big, colorful stuffed Torah.
Suddenly, Tot Shabbat became viable fun. Rabbi Latz read stories with kids hanging on his back (well, at least Spencer was), we paraded around the sanctuary with our stuffed Torahs, and grinned like idiots as our cute kids ran, squirmed, inched and hooted together. Spencer felt called to pipe up several times during the stories with his own, semi-intelligible commentary, and Rabbi Latz agreed and gave him a high-five.
And for a moment, or actually many moments, the fact that our domestic, personal, professional and financial lives are held together by spit, duct tape and dumb luck didn't matter.
And for the record, I gave that kid (and a few others) one hell of a cow ride after the service.
You can also read my wife Kristy's account of the morning... http://www.caffeinatedlove.blogspot.com/
No, not Spencer. This was the older boy who had just run over to where we sat, grimacing with the unease of being late to Tot Shabbat services, and gave Spencer a big, colorful stuffed Torah.
Suddenly, Tot Shabbat became viable fun. Rabbi Latz read stories with kids hanging on his back (well, at least Spencer was), we paraded around the sanctuary with our stuffed Torahs, and grinned like idiots as our cute kids ran, squirmed, inched and hooted together. Spencer felt called to pipe up several times during the stories with his own, semi-intelligible commentary, and Rabbi Latz agreed and gave him a high-five.
And for a moment, or actually many moments, the fact that our domestic, personal, professional and financial lives are held together by spit, duct tape and dumb luck didn't matter.
And for the record, I gave that kid (and a few others) one hell of a cow ride after the service.
You can also read my wife Kristy's account of the morning... http://www.caffeinatedlove.blogspot.com/
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