Recently said

1) Girls can like the Avengers too

2) Boys can wear purple shirts too.

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.

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.

Sentimental Feminist?

I suck.

After last year's Thanksgiving, when I complained about feeling too overworked, I thought there's no way I'm going to put myself in that position again. If anybody wants turkey this year, they're gonna have to make it themselves.

Then, as always, I started getting sentimental. There's apparently something genetically wired into me that frickin loves the smell of turkey as it is baking for hours. Eating Stove Top and Mashed Potato Flakes and basking in the cleverness of substituting these for the time-consuming counterparts my grandma would make. Topping it with gravy that I always think I'm going to screw up and it ends up boiling over and spilling on the whole stove but apparently the boiling-over is the secret ingredient in making it taste awesome to me. That, and a lot of salt and grease.

But the feminist part of me said "No!".

So when Rod suggested tonight bringing home a pre-made turkey meal from a restaurant for Thanksgiving, my brain was at 100% CPU usage for nearly 60 full seconds, not sure how to respond. At first I thought my feelings were hurt, as in "MY HUSBAND DOESN'T LIKE MY COOKING!", and then I thought "Wow, that's so Debra Barone of me. I hate Debra Barone.", and then I thought "No, he's probably just trying to think of a way to make things easier this year."

The sentimental part of my brain started getting sad and accusing the feminist part of my brain of ruining Thanksgiving. The feminist part of my brain told the sentimental part of my brain to grow a pair.

Tradition is important to me. But so is being valued like an equal and getting as much time to relax as the men in my family do. I need to learn how to give something up. Not caring about the emotional value of a meal is probably a good way to start.

Trying to do one post a month

After re-reading some of my posts, I feel like my blog is the definition of trite.

Blah, blah, blah women are capable. Blah blah blah men need to do their fair share around the house if women are going to work full time.

I'm going to try to get away from that and stick to short rants.

I'm taking an online SQL class. So I went to a meeting last night for Tulsa SQL users. It's liberal to call myself a user. And I'm certainly not a DBA. But I showed up to learn and become familiar with terminology even if most of it was way over my head.

There were a few dozen people there. And I was the only woman. Why? Lack of information about the group? Lack of interest? Other priorities?