My friend John Boston took this photo in downtown Tulsa.

"Save money for the important things in life", with a woman looking knowingly at a pair of shoes.

I'm mainly blogging this so that I'll remember to write a nastygram. PSO contact info.

He shared it with me because, coincidentally, I was complaining about a local news anchor making a generalization about women liking shoes. In my first attempt to contact KJRH, the page refreshed as I was finishing up my carefully worded comment and everything was lost.

But, with Emerson settling down to watch an episode of XMen, I can do both now and not feel like I'm neglecting anybody. I am so glad I don't have any compunction about her watching TV. It gives me more "me" time.

Actively managing my online presence

Turns out this blog comes up second when searching for my full name. No surprise. It's my content.

The first hit is for LinkedIn.

Other front page hits include Analytic Bridge, a social network for analytic professionals, a Facebook Event for a happy hour I attended, my company's home page, and Software Testing Club.

So according to Google, I'm an analytic, fun-loving, software testing, web-traffic-driver to my company, who also happens to be a mom who loves her daughter more than anything?

I'm perfectly fine with that.

Emerson's Birthday, or "How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Doll"

Em's 3rd birthday is coming up this weekend and we're thinking about gifts.

I said very sheepishly to Rod yesterday "I think she might need a d-o-l-l".

This was mostly prompted because I had remembered that Friday night, Emerson rolled up a kids' menu from El Chico and loved on it like it was a baby. She laid it in a basket so that it could take a nap while she was taking her bath.

This is hilarious. But also pathetic.

I'd give my (theoretical) *son* a doll. No reason my daughter can't have one too.

Princess Party

One of our family friends has a little girl who is turning 4 this weekend. It is a "Princess Party". We are asked to dress like our favorite princess or prince.

I have no idea how to approach it. Well, I do but I'm not sure it's the "right" way to approach it. She already has a long, flowing, hand-me-down dress. She got some fancy socks and shoes as a Christmas gift. We also have a tiara somewhere. It'll be a half-assed princess but it'll look like we tried at least a little.

I'll just basically tolerate it. I won't get super excited or build it up too much. I won't gush over the other girls, other than engaging them as people. I won't let them see me roll my eyes too much.

And hope, hope, and hope again that she never wants to have a Princess Party of her own.

What do I tell her?

One of the traits I want to model for my daughter is strength. Ideally, along with my husband, I'd like to show her the possibilities of what an equal partnership marriage can be.

Lately, I've been exploring this idea of equal partnership. Things have never "felt" equal to me. I mean they are a lot more equal than a lot of marriages have and there's a lot to be said for that. But it's hard to applaud an 80/20 division of labor when I really should be fighting for 50/50.

I justify it to myself in a lot of ways. I like my job a lot more than he likes his. He takes off whenever Em is sick. He's always available if I need or want to do something away from home without Emerson. It might be that I might be overlooking a lot of other stuff that brings the percentages closer together so I should stop counting altogether.....

For the first six years or so of our marriage, every couple of months I'd issue a "you need to do more around the house" decree. I explained that it wasn't just about the extra work, it's what the extra work meant - that we are not in fact equals and that he thought his free time was more valuable than mine. We had a good balance for the first year or so with our kid but soon, I felt I was doing more than my share with that situation too. And I never hid my feelings about that either.

It's been about two months since my last attempt to revisit this issue verbally with him. And I came to the realization that if it hasn't sunk in in the last six years, it wasn't going to. Nothing I can say is going to change his view or his behavior. There are numerous time management and reminder apps out there. If he really wanted to distribute things more optimally, he could do it.

So I realized this and such a powerful feeling of detachment came over me. I realized how much power I was giving him by feeling anger at his behavior. I decided to just clean, cook, change diapers, potty train, give baths, fill up juice glasses, tuck into bed, read stories, draw, take out trash, do laundry, and feed pets. I'd do all of it and assume that I'd be the one to do all of it. It's not fair. It's not ideal. But it is the best I can do. And keeping myself busy with all of it and choosing not to attribute any feelings of anger and resentment to it are incredibly powerful to me. Nagging him and yelling at him gives him power, plus I was still doing most of it anyway. It's like Charlie Brown finally deciding not to try kicking the football that Lucy was holding.

But when Em gets older and sees my doing everything, what do I tell her? This is hardly the best situation. It looks like I gave up. Surely she will see the hypocrisy, especially if I say things like men and women should be equal at home if they want to be equal at work. What do I say to her that doesn't totally set her up for failure in her own marriage? Do I wait for the day that she brings home her partner and announces her intention to get married and say something like "the key to happiness is resigned acceptance and low expectations"?

I don't know what to say to her that doesn't make me sound like a doormat or that paints her dad in a bad light. He is a good dad. He thinks the world of Emerson and would do anything for her. He'd do anything for me too. I just have to ask. Almost every time. But I don't want to ask every time. If Em asks for something, I want him to pop up out of his seat and get it about half the time. I want him to ask her if she wants to use the potty instead of me asking him to ask her. And the little dance I do in my head "should I ask him or just do it myself?" takes a lot of mental energy that I just think it's easier to do it myself and not have to worry about delegating. There is a reason that managers make more money than employees - it is hard work. And delegating is not one of my natural talents. I mean, I could get better at it, but as long as we're changing base personality traits here, he can just as easily develop the skill of taking initiative as I could develop the skill of delegating.

I'm happier than I've been in, I don't know, years. A lot of it is that I am in love with my kid - she's delightful and hilarious. I'm eating good food, exercising, reading, learning, laughing, and leading. But I bet a big portion of it has to do with not letting others decide how I feel.

Next Generation Baby-Booking

A few months after Emerson was born, I started a gmail account for her.

Every now and then, I send her an email that she can read in the future.

I let her know what she's been up to as far as milestones, favorite books and toys, favorite foods, and noteworthy things that she does.

I didn't do this to replace a baby book - but since I never think to update the book, this is going to be a decent substitute. My goal, though, is to do both.

And since I'm still morbid and I also know it's a reality that there are things that I remember that her father does not notice or make a point to remember, this will give her a good sense of who I am and what she was like as a baby in case something happens and she doesn't get to know me or how much I really love her.

Follow-up to Fear

I thought about the post I made last night. I mentioned that in some ways it was hard to watch Emerson adore her big brother. Why is it different now? I came along as an outsider when he was about 8. I've known the progression of MD since I met him, his parents knew at birth, and his older brother knew on some level since I met him. I think a part of me has kept him at arm's length for that reason - every time I find myself growing too attached I think a part of me backs away from him. That's horrible...I know but a mechanism I developed to deal with any sort of loss. So my own feelings are numbed to an extent. Emerson's are not. She hugs her brother, wants to go hang out with him and watch TV when she wakes up on the weekends, lights up when she sees his photo on our shelf during the week.

There is another way to look at this. How nice it must be to love someone without the fear of loss. To make a friend without thinking about how they might move away. To love your spouse, brother, sister, parents, children without thinking about all the sadness that would come if they die before you. I don't even remember loving this way myself - maybe I haven't since I was Emerson's age. I hope to be able to look at the beautiful side of this situation.