food for thought

Mama at the Movies: Sperm Donor X

2010-04-28T09:52:00.000-07:00

I'm working on a trilogy of related columns right now, covering three documentaries about different paths to motherhood and changing attitudes toward how we become mothers. The first, Adopted, looked closely at two families who adopted daughters from China. The third column, on the documentary Sunshine, will explore one family's history of single motherhood. And the second column, on Deirdre Fishel's film, Sperm Donor X, is up now at Literary Mama. Here's an excerpt:

I must have been in second grade when I first thought about how old I would be in the year 2000 -- 32 -- and what my life would be like by then. Basing my vision entirely on my mom's life, I assumed I'd be married with four kids.
I didn't spend the intervening years fretting about the gap between that vision and my reality -- milestone birthdays came and went without a husband, and at some point I realized I didn't really want four kids -- but by the time the ball dropped in Times Square on New Year's Eve, 1999, I was engaged and on the way to a more realistic vision for myself. These days, when I'm helping Eli find dress-up clothes for his stuffed dog's wedding or discussing the rate for a night in Ben's space hotel, I sometimes pause to marvel that this has become my life, a life I could never have imagined when I was the age my oldest is now.

I'm lucky that my childhood dream adjusted easily to my adult reality. I'm lucky that I didn't have to give up one dream for another, or struggle to get the family I wanted. That struggle, and that difficult adjustment to an unanticipated reality, is the undercurrent of Deirdre Fishel's documentary, Sperm Donor X (2002), which follows four women, including the filmmaker herself, who want to become mothers and find themselves unexpectedly doing it on their own, with anonymous sperm donors.

You can read the rest over at Literary Mama. The film hasn't been released yet, as the filmmaker still needs to raise funds to license archival footage. If you'd like to help, consider making a donation at Kickstarter.

The Literary Mama Pajama Party Reading

2010-04-27T16:47:00.000-07:00

Come out and join me, Lisa Harper, and Nicki Richesin reading some of our favorite springtime picture books! We'll be at Books, Inc., Laurel Village on Thursday, May 6th, at 6 PM. The bookstore supplies the popcorn, we supply the stories, you supply the kids.

More details here.

Doggie’s Wedding

2010-04-15T13:55:00.000-07:00

As I have written before, Eli cares for his stuffed animals quite devotedly. Like any good parent, he tucks them into bed at night and makes sure they’re cozy, he throws birthday parties for them, and worries about their eating habits.

Big Doggie, the biggest of the stuffies, is also the oldest of the stuffies and recently we learned that he has a job. Every night at bedtime, Big Doggie eats a snack from his new bowl and heads off to his job, typing on the computer and talking on the phone (happily he doesn’t leave the bed, and the work seems not to interfere with Eli’s repose). So I shouldn’t have been surprised the other day when Eli announced that Big Doggie was getting married. “Who is he marrying?” I asked. It was a stumper. Eli glanced around his bed, then ran to the basket of other stuffies and started pawing through the pile. He pulled out the stuffed snowman Ben made at a friend’s house a couple years ago and held it up, laughing. “Big Doggie can’t marry the snowman; he would melt!” He rejected the kangaroo, the otter, the two frogs, duck and many others before finally coming to a dachshund about half Big Doggie’s size. Right behind that one there was a smaller dachshund. “Perfect!" Eli crowed, "A bride and a baby!”

So, we had the players, but then Eli realized we needed a wedding feast. “Cookies! Chocolate chip cookies!” Easy enough, and more fun when I remembered that we have lots of cookie cutters to make the wedding dessert more special. We picked out three dogs (a lab like Big Doggie and two different dachshunds), a bone and a heart. We picked flowers from the garden.

We dressed the happy couple in special outfits, including collars for their wedding rings, and we deptutized the mooses as ring bearers:

The preparations wound up taking a couple days, as we kept getting interrupted by little details like school and bedtime, but when you figure how long engagements tend to be these days, and how expensive weddings can be, I think we did pretty well. And afterward, the happy couple jetted off to Hawaii (under a living room chair) for their honeymoon, while the rest of us finished off the wedding feast.

Who Does She Think She Is? benefit screening!

2010-03-23T10:55:00.001-07:00

Last year, I wrote about Pamela Tanner Boll's inspiring documentary about artists who are also mothers; if you haven't seen it yet and are in the New York area, here's a great way to see the movie, participate in a lively conversation about art and parenting, and do good -- all at the same time!

"This film is not about being a woman or being a woman artist, but rather how to be a human, how to find your true place in life.”

Join us for an evening of inspiration, collaboration and art

Wine Reception* Film Screening* Panel Discussion

May 1, 2010

6:30 pm

Peekskill Hat Factory

1000 North Division Street, Peekskill

Tickets: $30 per person

Hosted by The Peekskill Hat Factory

Benefitting The Garden Road School’s Arts in Education Programs

For more information or to purchase tickets visit: The Garden Road or email infoATthegardenroadDOTorg

************************************************************************

ABOUT THE FILM:

WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS? is a documentary by Academy Award winning filmmaker, Pamela Tanner Boll that follows the lives of five fierce female artists who refuse to choose between their art and their families. Through the lens of their lives, the film explores some of the most problematic intersections of our time: mothering and creativity, partnering and independence, economics and art. Visit the film's website to view the trailer and to learn more.

ABOUT THE PANELISTS:

We are honored to have six very talented artist-mothers signed on for what is sure to be a lively, relevant and moving panel discussion following the film. These fascinating women represent a cross section of female artists working to balance their art and families. They bring to the discussion a diversity of artistic mediums, life experiences, and personal perspectives.

Lowry Reinaur, Artist in Residence at The Garden Road School

Dar Williams

Eight Things About Eight

2010-03-03T22:43:00.000-08:00

It looks the same upside down and right side up.

On its side, it's the symbol for infinity.

It's a power of 2.

It's a homophone (remember the old joke, Why was six afraid of seven? Because seven ate nine.)

It's a Fibonacci number.

It's the number of notes in an octave.

It's the number of planets in the solar system (sorry, Pluto, we still miss you).

It's the age of my firstborn son. Happy birthday, Ben!

image credit

On Reading Aloud

2010-02-28T21:46:00.000-08:00

I had the opportunity to return to View from the Bay last week to speak about the importance of reading aloud, and also to share some children's books chosen by my son's school librarians. It was hard to stick to my allotted five minutes! Here's the clip:

Celebrate World Read Aloud Day

2010-02-08T20:58:00.000-08:00

People write to me at Literary Mama fairly regularly, asking me to help them promote this or that event, and most of the time the events don't have much to do with the mission of Literary Mama. But when I heard from the folks at LitWorld about World Read Aloud Day, it was easy to offer our help, especially since it means I get to a) read aloud to kids (including my own!) and b) go on tv again!

So join me on World Read Aloud Day, March 3rd, at Books, Inc. in San Francisco's Laurel Village, from 6 - 7 PM for a bedtime story reading! I'll be joined by my friends and fellow writer-mamas Lisa Harper and Nicki Richesin. Bring the kids in their pj's for a fun evening outing!

Mama at the Movies: Adopted

2010-02-01T15:54:00.000-08:00

"Nearly 60% of Americans are personally connected to someone who is either adopted, has adopted, or has relinquished a child to be adopted."
-- Evan B. Donaldson Adoption Institute

I read this statistic, which runs at the end of Barb Lee's documentary, Adopted (2008), and started counting in my head: ten cousins, two college roommates, one graduate school friend and two colleagues who are adopted, plus four other friends who have adopted children themselves. Two of my sons' four cousins are adopted. Yes, indeed, I am one of that 60%, and my life is certainly richer for it, but watching Adopted made me think that perhaps I take these riches too lightly.

Adopted tells the story of two families. First we meet Jennifer Fero, a thirty-two year old Korean woman adopted as an infant by an Oregon couple who experienced secondary infertility after having a son; the second storyline follows John and Jacqui Trainer, a New Hampshire couple who decide to adopt from China after their own long struggle with infertility. The two families are at opposite ends of their adoption journeys.

Please click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest!

Support Independent Filmmaking!

2010-01-19T12:22:00.000-08:00

Come to a preview screening/potluck dinner/discussion/fundraiser for independent mom filmmaker Deirdre Fishel, who is raising funds to complete her documentary, Sperm Donor X. Donations gratefully accepted, but not required; come for the movie, stay for the discussion!

Here is Deirdre's story:

I began filming Sperm Donor X at 40, when I found myself at a precipice. I wanted to at least try to have a biological child yet doing it alone with donor sperm felt bizarre and terrifying.

I had no idea how my story would end and I was interested in finding other diverse women facing the same turning point. I filmed myself and three other women for two years, then stopped because I wasn't sure I wanted to put out such a personal film. But I started again because not a day goes by that I don't look at my kids and feel grateful that I made this choice. It's almost painful to think what I would have missed if I hadn't.

Every month I meet smart, talented, beautiful women in their thirties and early forties who want children and yet are so afraid of doing it alone. Some see it as a personal failure. But the truth is we're well into a huge cultural shift, with the numbers of singles skyrocketing and more and more people getting into their primary relationships later in life.

My fervent wish with this documentary is to normalize a process that felt bizarre and foreign to me and to show that there are so many ways to be a family. Women having kids alone with donor sperm is just one of them and it's okay.

Sperm Donor X is a fully edited 54 minute film. But without the finishing funds to do a sound mix, color correct, and license the archival footage it won't get out into the world. Please help us by giving what you can. Many thanks.

You can see a trailer of the film here.

Saturday February 6, 6:30 - 9:30 PM, Oakland, CA

Contact me or Literary Mama's CNF editor, Susan Ito, for address; write to LMnonfiction (at) literarymama (dot) com and please put "Sperm Donor X" in the subject line.

Double Feature

2010-01-11T14:44:00.000-08:00

One of the most memorable post-kid dates for Tony and me came sometime around Ben's first birthday. We went out to a movie (American Splendor) and then, realizing the night was still young and Ben wouldn't need to nurse again for a while, we went to another (The Secret Lives of Dentists, which I wrote about much later). They are both good movies, but it didn't even matter; what mattered was that we were free enough to do something extra, something spontaneous. It felt great.

Since then, of course, we've been getting out a little bit more regularly. I don't feel so movie-deprived (the list over there in the sidebar is growing nicely), but the double feature is still a very rare treat. I wasn't expecting one this weekend, after the 6 PM show of Avatar, but leaving the movie theater at 9 and knowing, since the kids were on a sleepover, that we wouldn't have to get up early in the morning, we circled back to the ticket counter and checked the listings. 10 PM, Sherlock Holmes. Perfect.

Usually I have a lot to say (or write) about movies, but this pair took it all out of me! They are equally gorgeous; the watery blues and greens of Avatar's Pandora are getting all the press, but that actually felt more familiar to me (maybe because I am a frequent aquarium visitor?) than the foggy steampunk world of Sherlock Holmes' London, and I thought both were innovative and beautiful (the closing credits of Sherlock Holmes are the best credit sequence I've seen in years). They are equally, unnecessarily long; I took a little nap during Avatar because I was bored, and another little nap during Sherlock because I was up past my bedtime, and I found myself editing each in my head.

As for the writing, well, there's really nothing much to say about Avatar's script, is there? Though I do find myself wanting to make the distinction here between the story -- fine, as far as it goes, though we've seen it before ("Dances with Smurfs," scoffs a friend); I have no problem with new contexts for old stories -- and the actual script, which is so full of tired lines it's a wonder the actors could say them without laughing ("Bring the pain," indeed). Meanwhile, Sherlock Holmes doesn't rely on any one story for its script, in favor of the more sequel-friendly overview, which felt like a bit of a loss, even for someone like me who hasn't absorbed all the stories. But watching Robert Downey, Jr. and Jude Law banter and flirt is so pleasurable, I'm ok with the filmmakers setting this one up for a franchise.

Finally, Sigourney Weaver, welcome back from your roles in Baby Mama (meh) and Infamous (loved); to me, you belong in space, and seeing you channel Ellen Ripley and Dian Fossey was one of my favorite aspects of Avatar.

image source

Me on TV!

2010-01-10T21:35:00.000-08:00

In case you missed it, here's the clip of my recent segment on View from the Bay:

The Day I Didn't Meet Florence Henderson

2010-01-06T23:16:00.000-08:00

So I was on television today, and I have to say it was a lot of fun, though it all got off to kind of an inauspicious start. I arrived at the studio promptly at 2:20, as requested, accompanied by my supportive friend, only to find I wasn't on the security guard's List. I wasn't listed under my name, or my website, or my segment name. The security guard at the desk called the producer while my friend and I watched the 4 televisions in the lobby, hoping we wouldn't be there long enough to watch the show on which I was scheduled to appear. Time passed. I began cracking jokes about my life on the D-list. Guests arrived and were ushered in through the locked door by a production assistant with a walkie-talkie and an ear piece, and I began to wonder if I should sneak in with another group of guests.

2:30 came and went. I checked in again with the security guard, who had forgotten my name. I called and left a message for the segment producer, knowing he was likely in the studio, far from his office. I overheard the security guard say to someone, "Oh, that person must have slipped in while I was distracted." Um, security guard? I think it's your job not to be distracted! But that's okay, there's no reason anybody would ever want to slip unnoticed in to a television studio. I mean, I did, but I wasn't planning to hijack the news like the other guy probably was.

Eventually I got in. The producer was "looking all over" for me – except, you know, in the locked lobby. I was given a quick tour of the stage, shown where I would sit (grateful that I wouldn't be sitting between the two hosts, like a friend was during her TV gig, who then felt like she was watching a tennis match, unsure where to look). They took my pile of books, concerned that they might put them in the wrong order. "It's ok if they get mixed up, " I said, "I can talk about them in any order." The producer and stage manager looked at me, amazed. I can walk and chew gum, too, but I didn't offer to do that on the show.

The green room wasn't green, but mostly my friend and I hung out in the make-up room (thank you, kind make-up person, who did such a nice job of making me look like a better version of me!), chatting with Amy Tiemann and Jamie Woolf (who were on the show talking about their new project) and watching Florence Henderson talk about her new stage show and the tell-all books the Brady kids have written (and no, she never had an affair with Greg). At this point, understand, I wasn't yet sure I would actually appear on the show, because although I was listed on the show's website yesterday, I wasn't on the security guard's list, nor the producer's list, and while it was all kind of pleasant to hang out, I was going to be a little sad if I'd prepped and rescheduled the day and bought a new dress only to be asked to go home (well, I wouldn't really mind too much about the dress).

At 3:20, the production assistant came and said, "OK, you're on the schedule for 3:30!" So I had a moment to consider getting nervous but seemed to be done with that, and then spent some time cooling my heels (literally! it was freezing) in the back stage area while the stage manager tried to figure out how to clip the microphone onto me (my TV-veteran friends, having given me so much great advice about how to dress and sit, didn't mention microphone-friendly clothes, but there's only so much you can do, right?). It involved quantities of tape and me holding the device and trying not to turn it off until I got settled on my stool. I remembered not to cross my legs (thank you, Vicki), to look at the hosts, not the camera (thank you, Ericka, Sophia and Sybil), and I remembered what I wanted to say. That seemed the least of my worries, really, especially once I met the hosts, who could probably get rocks to say interesting things. They are very, very good at their jobs.

And then, four and a half minutes after it started, the segment was all over, and while I could have said lots (and lots!) more about each of these terrific picture books, at least I got to say one good thing about each of them. And then, at the production assistant's urging, I rummaged through the basket of green room snacks (Goldfish! Lorna Doones! Chocolates!) to bring treats home to my boys. I didn't meet Florence Henderson, but still: a pretty good afternoon.

Oh, and don't forget to check out the picture books, because they are lovely, and visit Literary Mama for new reading lists every month!

Fantastic Mr. Fox: The Sequel

2010-01-05T19:54:00.000-08:00

At lunch today, Eli started talking about the differences between Roald Dahl's Fantastic Mr. Fox and Wes Anderson's film version. We've only seen the movie once, but Ben has been reading the book to Eli in the car, and the conversation about the two different versions of the story shows no sign of abating. So Eli announced he wanted to write a sequel to the book, one that would come to a more exciting conclusion than Roald Dahl's. I offered to type it up for him, not knowing that I have been harboring a budding Gertrude Stein, someone who will write the same sentence over and over and just when you think you know how the paragraph is going to end -- bam! -- surprises you with a new detail.

Or maybe it's just that while I was typing, he was running circles around the living room. Anyway, here it is:

Once upon a time, there were three farmers. Their names were Bunce, Boggis and Bean. They were trying to catch a fox, but he was too clever. So they were waiting at the fox's hole so when the fox came out, they could shoot him. But the fox was too clever. Bunce was a geese and duck man. Boggis was a chicken man. Bean was a turkey and apple man. Let's go back to the story. So, each night Fantastic Mr. Fox would say, "What should it be now, dear? chickens from Boggis, ducks and geese from Bunce, turkey or apple from Bean?" And then she would say, "A turkey from Bean, or, a chicken from Boggis, or, a geese from Bunce." So after she said what she wanted, Mr. Fox would go out of his hole, sniff the air, and go to fetch what she wanted. The farmers did not like things getting stealed from them, so each night, they'd go down to the hole with their shotgun and wait. But the fox was too clever for that! So each night he would look around or sniff around and then he would go to whatever Mrs. Fox wanted and help himself. Then he would come back and get dinner ready and then they would eat dinner. Then they would go to sleep, wake up, Fantastic Mr. Fox would say, "What should it be now, dear? A chicken from Boggis, a geese or duck from Bunce, or some cider or turkey from Bean?" Then Mrs. Fox would say whatever she wanted and then Fantastic Mr. Fox would go out of his hole and help himself. The farmers had a bad idea. They would go in front of their farms, waiting for the fox. But then the fox went into the back door and they saw the fox go into the back door and they hid their gun in the back door and then Fantastic Mr. Fox would go into the front door and help himself. The farmers did not like that so they tried going back to his hole with their shotguns. And then it turned dark and Fantastic Mr. Fox said, "What would you like, dear?" And Mrs Fox would tell whatever she would like. And Mr Fox would dig a tunnel to solve the problem, a pretty big tunnel and then come out, do you know why? because if he came out the regular way he might get shot, so he dug a little tunnel where the farmers aren't. So he would come up, and help himself. And the farmers saw his tunnel so they moved to that tunnel. He would come back out the regular tunnel and then fix up dinner and after dinner they would go to sleep. Then after they went to sleep, morning would come, so they would wake up. Fantastic Mr. Fox would say, "What should it be now, darling?" So Mrs. Fox would say whatever she wanted and then Mr. Fox would help himself. Then he would come back, fix up breakfast, eat it, have a little rest, then go get lunch. After lunch, the one fox would have a little play, then dinner arrived. Mr. Fox would say, "What should I get? A chicken from Boggis, a duck or geese from Bunce, or a turkey or jar of cider from Bean?" Mrs Fox would say what she wanted and then they would fix up dinner, go to sleep, do another day, next day they would wake up, get breakfast, eat breakfast. The little fox would have a play, get lunch, the little fox would have some play, then dinner arrived. They would eat dinner, another day passed, they would wake up, have breakfast. The little fox would have some play, eat lunch, the little fox would have some play, eat dinner, another day. ["It's a long chapter," noted Eli, "to get you into the story. You might not keep reading if it was just, "Once upon a time there were 3 farmers. Next chapter." Fair enough.]

Next Chapter
They would get breakfast. The little fox would have some play, then lunch arrived. After lunch, the little fox would have some more play, dinner arrived. Eat dinner, go to sleep, another day passes.

Another Chapter, Chapter 3
They would wake up, get breakfast, the little fox would have some play, then lunch arrived. They would eat lunch, the little fox would have some playtime, then dinner arrived. They would eat dinner, another day passes. Wake up, eat breakfast, the little fox would have some play, then lunch arrived. They would eat lunch, the little fox would have some more play while Fantastic Mr. Fox would read the newspaper while Mrs. Fox would clean dishes.

Chapter 4
Dinner arrived! They would eat dinner, go to sleep, another day would pass. They would wake up, they would get breakfast, eat breakfast, the little fox would have some play, then lunch arrived. They would eat lunch, the little fox would have some play, then dinner arrived.

Chapter 5
They would wake up, get breakfast, eat breakfast, the little fox would have some playtime, then lunch arrived. They would eat lunch, the little fox would play while Fantastic Mr. Fox would read the newspaper and Mrs. Fox cleaned dishes. Then Fantastic Mr. Fox would fetch dinner, then they ate dinner, the little fox would have ten minutes of playtime and go to sleep. Another day passes.

Chapter 6
So they would wake up, get breakfast, the little fox would have some playtime, Fantastic Mr. Fox would get lunch, the little fox would have some playtime.

Chapter 7

To be continued...

Mama at the Movies: Fantastic Mr. Fox

2010-01-04T20:15:00.000-08:00

One of the sweet highlights of our Christmas vacation was our first-ever family movie outing, which provided fodder for my newest column at Literary Mama. Here's an excerpt:

We've been looking for Ben's first movie theater-movie for years. It had to be fairly quiet: no big explosions, no loud soundtrack (though we would bring ear plugs to protect against overzealous projectionists.) It had to be a gentle story: no heightened drama, no second act inflated by chase scenes. I could do without a lot of violence, car crashes or gun play (which make a surprising number of appearances even in G-rated kids' movies) and a well-written movie that didn't traffic in stereotypes would be welcome, though mostly I just wanted something that would make Ben laugh.

And so we found it, a movie about a fellow who makes a living as a thief until one day, while he is imprisoned for his crimes, he learns his wife is pregnant and he decides to go legit, writing a little-read column for the local newspaper. He settles into a modest life with his wife, a landscape painter, and his quirky son, a boy who embarrasses his father because he wears a bath towel as a cape and tucks his socks into his pants. When the boy's cousin comes for an extended visit, the father isn't ashamed to say that he prefers his socially-adept, athletic nephew to his son. But the quiet life bores him and he is tempted back into his life of crime, stealing from his neighbors, deceiving his wife, and ultimately putting his entire community at risk.

Perfect!

Fantastic Mr. Fox was perfect for us; ever since we saw it, the boys have been quoting lines, working on their whistling (to mimic Mr. Fox's trademark), we even made the cookies. Click on over to Literary Mama to read more.

9 for '09

2010-01-01T00:17:00.000-08:00

I didn't manage 9 categories, but here are my top 9's in 6 (9 upside-down) categories for 2009:

Memorable Meals

Eli's first meat, a meatball at the Pasta Pomodoro in San Rafael, of all places: "Mama, I know it's meat, and I want it."
Jewish Quarter falafel with Lilya
Tony's 40th birthday party at Beretta – burrata on pizza, mmmm…
Dinner with Libby and her family at Jamie's Italian in Oxford
One lukewarm bottle of water at Legoland in England (where it does get hot but they still don't have ice): the difference between surviving the day and passing out from heat stroke
Picnics by the pool
Cocktails & dessert at Aziza, any Monday night we had babysitting
Birthday parties for stuffies, with bowls of unsalted peanuts and eucalyptus leaves, hosted by Eli
Dinner and Christmas carol mash-up/singalong, with my parents, led by the boys

Best books

A Gate at the Stairs by Lorrie Moore
An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination by Elizabeth McCracken
My Life in France by Julia Child
The King (poems) by Rebecca Wolff
Boy Alone: A Brother's Memoir by Karl Taro Greenfield
This Lovely Life by Vicki Forman
The Good Thief by Hannah Tinti
American Wife by Curtis Sittenfeld
Lit by Mary Karr

Movies

Where the Wild Things Are – a terrific adaptation
Ponyo – Eli's first movie theater movie since he graduated from the sling
Fantastic Mr. Fox – our first movie outing as a family
The Class (Entre Les Murs) – best new teaching movie
Who Does She Think She Is? – my favorite documentary of the year
Inglourious Basterds – actors, director, everyone at the top of their game
The Hurt Locker – the best war movie
(500) Days of Summer – best dance sequence of the year (and probably decade)
Sweet Land – my favorite love story of the year

2009 Memories and milestones

Eli and Mariah asleep, leaning their heads on each other, in the back of the car on the drive home from Pt. Reyes
Ben learning to ride his bike without training wheels
AWP in Chicago, meeting so many literary mamas, spending 4 days without the boys
Tony's and my night away at Indian Springs Resort
Wine and snacks with Rob, Lilya, Liz and Ross while our boys played soccer in the courtyard of our Paris rental with one of the boys who lived in the building
An amazingly relaxing two night Big Basin camp-out (8 adults and 7 boys)
Eli learning to read
Ben playing soccer at school recess
Mama, PhD readings at Duke and the University of Richmond

Art

Tate Modern + London Transit Museum
Andy Goldsworthy's Spire in the Presidio
Giverny
Musee de l'orangerie
Amish Abstrations quilt show at the De Young
Eli counting down to his weekly preschool art days
Seeing Maya Lin and Andy Goldsworthy installations at Storm King Art Center
Bidding on one of Tony's dad's paintings in an online auction – and winning!
Ben learning how to weave

Quotes: 
Eli: "I just want one more hug of you."
Ben: "How is it that I am I?"
Eli: "I want some food." Tony: "I’m making dinner." Eli: "I want something more fastly."
Ben imitating Yogi Bear: "Hey, Boo Boo!"
Eli rejecting a band-aid for his sore throat, "And anyway, the inside of my throat isn't stickable!"
Ben: "I'm going to try something new!"
Eli: "Mama? Since you are two years older than Tony, why don't you know more about LEGO?"
Ben to Eli, referring to us, "Ask one of the grown-ups."
Eli to me: " I love you cozier than my bed, curlier than your hair, and gooder than my oatmeal."

May your 2010 be gooder than oatmeal, too.

What I've Been Working On...

2009-12-30T03:44:00.000-08:00

Check it out.

And if you ever hear that I'm planning to wrap up a longterm project -- one my husband has been chipping away at for a year and one that takes up increasing amounts of my spare time, too, until we both find ourselves staying up past midnight, several nights running, to meet self-imposed deadlines -- during a big holiday week, while my kids are out of school and my parents are in town, you might want to dissuade me.

But it seems to have worked out okay.

Dear Santa

2009-12-23T14:45:00.000-08:00

Santa Claus has been responsive to us in the past (remember the year of the pogo stick?), so the boys are optimistic about their letters this year. And I have to say, with such reasonable (and relatively old-school!) requests, I think Santa will respond favorably:

First, Eli's. We do not have a dog, but he takes good care of all his stuffies, and feels the dogs need their own bowls:

two dog bowls
back scratchers
calculator
Please
Love eli Grant

Then Ben's letter, using his new paper-engineering and cursive-writing skills:

Dear Santa, Could I please have a very large tub of dominoes, a digital wristwatch, and a scientific calculator? From Ben Grant

We'll set out our plate of cookies & carrots tomorrow night and hope for the best! Merry Christmast to you and yours.

Mama at the Movies: Motherhood

2009-12-06T20:45:00.001-08:00

How perfect! A movie about a woman trying to raise two kids in the city while also carving out time to write. I was eager to see Katherine Dieckmann's new film, Motherhood, especially after reading the interview with her on Literary Mama. Here's an excerpt from my latest column:

Dressed in jeans and an old fleece, my hair pulled back into a messy bun, I looked exactly like what I am: a mom who'd just barely made it out of the house, leaving the post-dinner mess, homework supervision, and the kids' bedtime to my husband so that I could see a movie. Glancing around the theater, I saw my compatriots, in ones and twos, one pair with a sling-cozy baby, eating balanced dinners of popcorn and peanut M&Ms. Not date night, but mom's night out at the movies as we all waited for the start of Motherhood, Katherine Dieckmann's day-in-the-life film about Eliza Welsh, New York City mommy-blogger, former fiction writer, wife, and mother of two.

Click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest, and let me know what you think!

Young Playwrights

2009-11-09T17:10:00.000-08:00

Depending on the company, Ben and Eli play lego, or rocket ships, or build forts, or draw, or do puppet shows. On Saturday, their puppet show friends came to play and, as usual, Ben and his fellow second grader took the lead, assigning smaller roles to the younger siblings. The boys wanted to perform a play by Shakespeare, but then realized that they don't really know the plots of any of Shakespeare's plays. So they went to Plan B, starting with an announcement from the MC:

Welcome to our show! Thank you for coming today! Please carefully read the list of rules. Smoking is strictly prohibited. Now we can get to the important part. Today we will be showing a puppet show. Please welcome: Shakespeare writing a famous play: Romeo and Juliet!!!

Next, they produced a script:

Shakespeare: I think I shall write a play. 
Shakespeare: None of my other plays are very common. (sigh)
Shakespeare: This one shall be called, Romeo and Juliet!
Shakespeare: Servant, please get my pen?
Servant: Yes Sir William!
Shakespeare: And now I will begen.
Shakespeare: Thar are two villages separated by a big hill.
Shakespeare: and they are worst eminies.
Shakespeare: But two people – one from each village – fell in love with each other.
Shakespeare: And they got married.
Romeo/Juliet: La la la la la la!!

At this point, Eli apparently became disgruntled about his role, and expressed his dissatisfaction:

I DO NOT GET IN STAGE.

That seemed like a good time to pause for dinner. The quartet of kids gets together again next weekend, and it'll be interesting to see how the scripts -- on stage and off -- develop.

Mama at the Movies: Where the Wild Things Are

2009-11-07T19:48:00.000-08:00

We are not, I admit, a Where the Wild Things Are family; we're In the Night Kitchen folks. Sendak's fantasy of naked Mickey's romp in a New York City kitchen offers an airplane ride, guitar-playing, and the promise of breakfast cake; it depicts a child's solo adventure, but leads him gently back to bed at the end. It is the perfect story for my airplane-drawing, music-loving, kitchen-happy boys. Where the Wild Things Are, with Max's fierce temper and the Wild Things' raucous rumpussing, despite its blue-green cross-hatched beauty and peaceful ending, just scares my kids. There was no question of my movie-shy children attending the new film adaptation by Spike Jonze and Dave Eggers, especially after I heard them clarify that Where the Wild Things Are is not a film for children, but a film about childhood.

And for that, I love it.

click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest!

One Busy Afternoon

2009-11-06T16:40:00.001-08:00

I didn't photograph the Monopoly, but can report that my son manages to win the majority of our games with one simple strategy: you spend money to make money. In one recent game, which he likes to recall quite fondly, he cleaned me out in less than ten minutes and had made $50 (and this is Monopoly Jr, where the highest currency is a five.)

Food Is Stories

2009-10-18T10:20:00.000-07:00

It has been, by most objective measures, a lousy week. It announced itself with a dog bite on my Monday morning run, developed with Eli’s fever, peaked the night Tony and I spent at Eli’s bedside, putting cold washcloths on his head and wondering whether to take him into Urgent Care, and has now moved into the quiet dull rhythm of boredom and cabin fever that settles on a house when a family member has been sick a while. I did finally make the ultimately ill-advised decision to leave the house, only to back our garage-parked car into our driveway-parked car (another reason I want to sell one of our cars; it might be a bit harder now, though). But I have to say that if my child was going to choose any week to be sick and keep me anchored on the couch, stroking his head while he watched endless episodes of Oswald and Peep in the Big World, at least he chose the week that the New York Times Magazine published the food issue.

Click on over to the other blog to read the rest...

Where the Wild Things Are

2009-10-14T11:20:00.000-07:00

no spoilers, I promise...

A lifetime ago, when I lived in Manhattan, I worked for a literary agent who specialized in children's book writers and illustrators; his clients' books now fill my kids' shelves. Initially, I was hired to read manuscripts that came in from potential clients, and to help the subsidiary rights agent handle the contracts for foreign publication of our clients' books.

But the job I aspired to, and the job I eventually earned, was handling permissions. Anyone who wanted to use one of our client's illustrations on a greeting card or a t-shirt, or wanted to quote some lines from their books in their newspaper article or dissertation, first had to call me, and I would work out the details with the writer or illustrator. It was fun to talk to our clients of course, but it was fun, too, to talk to folks who had interesting ideas about how to use their work, and I was always glad when I could help make an agreement.

Among the many artists we worked for, Maurice Sendak was the one whose work is in such high demand that I got to speak to him by phone every day. The office didn't have email at the time, and we only used faxes for overseas communications. We all wished sometimes that there was a quicker way to conduct this business, some way that didn't involve both parties being available at the same time, but I knew that I was really lucky to be making these phone calls to Mr. Sendak.

There was a prescribed time of day to make the call-- just after lunch, as I recall, though I could be mistaken about that--and I always had my notes about each permission request typed up clearly so that I could be really efficient on the phone. I understood that he had more interesting things to do and I didn't want to waste his time. There were some requests that never reached his ears; every month, it seemed, some fraternity would ask permission to make and sell "Delta Chi, Where the Wild Things Are!!!" t-shirts. I'm sure plenty of fraternities made such shirts anyway, but if they thought to ask permission, we had to turn them down.

I suppose he could have issued a blanket No for all uses of his work and never even bothered with us. But he didn't do that. In those pre-caller ID days, he screened his calls, so I would begin talking, introducing myself and starting in with the first request, and hoping that he would pick up. One of the first times I called, I made the mistake of mentioning another artist who was going to be included in the project, one Sendak felt had copied his work, and he picked up the phone only to utter a short, withering "No" before hanging up. Or there was the time he commented, about a request that I have since blocked, "I would rather chew glass." But most of the time, I had vetted the requests well enough that they interested him, and he'd ask probing questions about them and sometimes I'd be talking to him long enough that I could stop being distracted by the excited little voice in the back of my head that was always saying, "You're talking to Maurice Sendak!"

So, all of this is a very lengthy preamble to the fact that when I first heard, years and years ago, that a movie was being made of Where the Wild Things Are, I didn't believe it. I'd seen proposals come and go and although they very moved quickly off my desk and on to the desks of more important people, they never went very far beyond that. But I kept hearing about this movie. And then I heard that Spike Jonze and Dave Eggers were involved, and I began to believe it was really happening. Also, I knew it would be good. Not just because I think Jonze and Eggers are the right guys for the job (though I really, really do. I mean, come on; Spike Jonze made Adaptation. Obviously he was going to do something interesting with this book). No, mostly I knew it would be good because if Maurice Sendak was letting it happen, he clearly trusted that his book was in good hands.

I saw the movie early, as a benefit for Dave Eggers' 826 Valencia, and I haven't stopped thinking about it. It is not a kids' movie, or at least not a movie for kids who are still reading the book; kids who have outgrown the book might think the movie is too young for them, but convince them that they are wrong and take them with you. I don't want to give anything away here now, so will say only that they have expanded on the story in good and moving ways. The actors, from Max Records as Max to Catherine Keener as his mom, to the amazingly-cast actors who voice the Wild Things (Catherine O'Hara, Forest Whitaker, Paul Dano, Chris Cooper, Lauren Ambrose and James Gandolfini) are all fabulous. I am planning to go back to see it a few more times, if only just to hear the heart-breakingly wistful note in James Gandolfini's voice when he says to the other Wild Things that he just wants to sleep in a real pile.

But here, don't take my word for it. Hear what Sendak himself has to say about the film.

The Boys Are Back

2009-10-13T14:42:00.000-07:00

Why would I spend an evening at a movie about a dad who's left to raise his two sons alone after his wife dies of cancer? I've written before about absent-mother movies; it's not that I have some morbid curiosity about families without mothers or expect that these movies are going to show me what might be (I certainly hope not!) I love movies about family relationships, I love quiet, talky movies, and I have to admit I love a chance to attend a free press screening. So I went to The Boys Are Back with a friend (whose own two boys are old enough to be left alone for a couple hours while she goes to an early evening movie). I thought, based on what I knew of the plot, that it might be a bit sappy. But we were both very pleasantly surprised, because The Boys Are Back is a really lovely film about a man learning how to father after his wife passes away.

The film is based on Simon Carr's memoir of the same name. Carr is a columnist for The Independent, though in the film's one significant, and perfectly reasonable, deviation from the memoir, Clive Owen plays him as a sportswriter named Joe. It makes his job look a bit more glamorous (we see him writing coverage of Michael Phelps at the Sydney Olympics), though my friend and I did wonder exactly how this dad was supporting his family's very comfortable lifestyle on a newspaper writer's salary. We should be so lucky. But that's a tiny quibble in what's otherwise a very realistic, human, and beautifully-told story about a little family struggling to regain its equilibrium after a devastating loss.

The film opens with Joe driving a jeep along the beach. Water is spraying past, and we begin to see that people are shouting at him, presumably just because he is driving on the beach. But then the camera pulls back and we see a little boy perched on the hood of the car, griping the windshield wipers behind him, screaming with delight. This is our first clue that this family is different. The film flashes back briefly then, to tell the story of the mother's cancer diagnosis and death, and the moment I knew this was a film that understands a bit about children and families was when Joe tells his son, Artie (a sweet and impish Nicholas McAnulty) that his mom is ill. The four year-old has good questions: "Is Mummy going to die? When? Will she die by dinner time? Will she die by bedtime? Will she die by breakfast?" And Joe understands that these are reasonable questions from a kid, and answers honestly, "I don't know."

Most of the film then narrates the life Joe builds with little Artie and his son from his first marriage, Harry, a young teen who comes to live with them some months after the death of Artie's mom. "The fact is," explains Joe to Harry, "I run a pretty loose ship. . . . We found that the more rules we had the more crimes were created; petty prosecutions started to clog up the machinery of life. Conversely, the fewer the rules we had, the nicer we were to each other." It's not all indoor water balloon fights and bike-riding in the kitchen (though there is that); the silly, like in real life, is tempered by the serious, and it all adds up to a fine film about ordinary life.

Losing Gourmet

2009-10-10T13:28:00.000-07:00

cross-posted from the other blog

It's not like I grew up with it. My mom learned to cook mostly from her own mom (though luckily got an excellent pie crust education from her mother-in-law). When we moved to the US in the early 70s, I remember seeing The Galloping Gourmet and The French Chef occasionally on our black & white kitchen television, but I think they were on more for entertainment than education. Mom subscribed to the Time-Life series of international cookbooks (the hardcovers now live in my house; the paperbacks, with more recipes, continue to get a workout in her kitchen) but never a cooking magazine, that I recall.

It was after college that I started to pick up Gourmet occasionally. It was a glimpse into another world. It was like a travel magazine to me, so glossy and beautiful. I tore out the occasional recipe – and if it looked good on the page, it always turned out well-- but at the time mostly just dreamed over the beautiful pictures. And that's one small reason I'm sad about losing Gourmet; for someone who doesn't subscribe to fashion magazines or anything else with beautiful photography, and whose nightly dinner table can get a little dull with plates of pasta, every month Gourmet showed me lovely tables I could aspire to, and reminded me to set out a vase of flowers or put the vegetables in a pretty bowl.

When I moved to California, I had more time for cooking, and although I didn't have much money, I saved a few dollars every month to pick up Gourmet. It was always fun reading, a perfect escape from my dense graduate school reading lists. When I broke up with my boyfriend and moved into a place without a kitchen, I would amuse myself trying to make some of Gourmet's recipes with just a toaster oven, hot pot, rice cooker and electric skillet. I made great stir fries, a fabulous (small) lasagne, and baked cookies by the half dozen. When I moved in with a roommate (partly, to be sure, because of the kitchen) we shared a subscription to Gourmet, and celebrated when she passed her oral exams with a cocktail party fueled by the magazine's recipes. Whether for a single woman without a kitchen, or two budget-conscious grad students who wanted to eat well, those recipes always worked. And that's another reason I'm sad about losing Gourmet.

And then just as I was finishing graduate school, I met Tony, and we bonded over food. I discovered, at his mom Nancy's house, a veritable library of cooking magazines, refreshed with new issues every month: Fine Cooking, Food and Wine, Saveur, Cooks Illustrated, Gourmet. Ruth Reichl was the editor of Gourmet by then and it was becoming a home for writers, terrific writers like Laura Shapiro and Michael Lewis and Anthony Bourdain and Jane and Michael Stern. We would hang out at Nancy's house leafing through all the magazines and tearing out the recipes, but Gourmet was the one to read and we would talk about the essays over dinner and long Scrabble games. I remember in particular an essay by Michael Lewis that came out the month Ben was born, in which Lewis describes a trip to Masa's for dinner with his wife and toddler. For ages afterward, I paraphrased a line from the piece (which sadly I can't find online), "If you won't [fill in the blank with whatever I wanted Ben to do] we'll just have to stay at home and eat broccoli."

The magazine was always smart, relevant, and delicious, and I routinely incorporated its recipes into our life, from cookies or savory biscotti for our annual New Year's Day party to banana muffins for preschool bake sales. Gourmet's vodka-spiked tomatoes came camping with us this summer, and the magazine's roasted potato and kale salad is now one of my favorite ways to eat those two favorite vegetables. Flipping through my messy binder of saved recipes tonight, I see that over half of them come from Gourmet. Without their monthly infusion of fresh recipes, the binders will stop bursting from their seams, which is probably a good thing, but it's another reason I'm sad about losing Gourmet.

After Nancy passed away, we had her mail forwarded to our house and that meant two copies of Gourmet each month. I called the customer service people, who were happy to consolidate her subscription and mine, but there was a little confusion over the name and so it has come to me each month with her name on it. If Nancy liked something, she put her money on it, so the subscription was supposed to go deep into 2012. It was a monthly reminder of the meals and conversations we shared, and that's the last, biggest, reason I'm sad about losing Gourmet.