Cakie: Mommy, Sihad says the number infinity-nine doesn’t exist.
Me: Well, technically, he’s right. Infinity is like all the numbers in the world. It keeps going. You can’t really add nine to that. What do you mean by infinity-nine, anyway?
C: It’s the last number in infinity. You know, like twenty-nine, thirty-nine.
Blogging is cool.
Deep, I know.
But I have to say that I’ve been fairly inactive for over a month… could it be two? And when I went back to my dashboard, entire conversations had been going on about my writing. I think writers are sort of introverted divas. We feel shy and insecure. What we really want is for people to have conversations about our writing. Or better yet, for someone to tell us that they like it. That they connected to it. That it made a small (or big) difference in their lives.
That has happened to me. It is totally addictive.
I’ve been thinking for a while about starting a blog about my newest obsession, education reform. Sort of going at it in a Forrest Gump kind of tone. Because the whole thing is really so stupid. It might take a Gump to point it out well. I went to an inspiring talk the other night in Manhattan. I has again renewed my idea of the blog. But there’s a problem. My honey and several of my closest friends work for charter schools. Sometimes my house feels like what it must be like to live in the Carville-Matalin household. I don’t need to annoy my honey with a blog again. (Yeah, this blog annoyed her. Making the private public, spending so much time and energy, etc. I understand.) Sooooo, I’d like to blog, but I don’t want it to end in us having to spring for couple’s therapy.
The other problem is that I would like that blog to not be anonymous. I’ve enjoyed some success here. But my name isn’t on it. For good, vagina-related reasons, I think. I’d like to have my name on the new one. I’m not sure what I can legally, or safely cover. Can I write about my students with fake names? I never would do anything to exploit them, but I have some good testing-related anecdotes. Can I write about my school? Would any of it put my job in jeopardy? I don’t know the rules. Do any of you know?
I don’t know why I did it, but I feel like I made a gay parenting mistake.
My son, Cakie was talking about when he was in my tummy. I told him he had been in Mama’s tummy. Now he thinks I’m the least important mom.
My honey says not to worry, that all kids play favorites. But not all kids have two wombs from which they could have sprung. And not all kids are a cut and dry as Cake. When he decides something, that is the end of the story.
So now I’m Trucker’s mom and A is his mom. We keep trying to explain it to him; he keeps rejecting our explanations. I spend much more time with him than A does. We walk to school together. I pick him up and entertain and feed him until A gets home. He misses her. So maybe he just wants to connect with her.
It doesn’t help that Trucker is a complete cling-o-rama on me. He won’t let A read him a story. Only me. So when I try to read with Cakie, Trucker slides in and tries to take over.
They are both latching on to their bio moms. It makes me feel weird.
Sorry I’ve not been blogging much. My life feels a little like a hamster on a wheel. Except I’m not getting any exercise.