Friday Mom's To Do List:

1. Start reading again.
I made a list last night of books to reread, to get myself started. M.C. thinks this list could end in trouble. I wouldn't mind company if anybody else wants to read any of these:

Good morning Midnight
Lady Chatterly's Lover
The Farewell Party
One Hundred Years of Solitude
something Borges

Copper was added for kicks, and a couple others....

2. Become a Rock Star.
This could take a while. More on this later.

3. Laundry.
Diapers are done, baby clothes in, darks to follow...

4. Dishes.
Have yo ever noticed how they don't just go away? An ironstone pitcher used for gravy, plate from Key Lime Pie. Salad spinner. Forks and knives.

5. Spackle Bathroom.
Friday I recaulked the tub and painted the ceiling. Now to fill in the holes and sand it down, take the old baseboard off, and paint it. A woman's work is never done.

6. Work on Christmas presents.
I finished a scarf this morning and need to start knitting something new. And I have my father's shirts to make quilts out of for my sister and stepmother. That is so emotionally loaded I may need to be drunk to start.

7. Deal with crazy family.
Pick a branch.

rock star mom

Truth be told--I am not a rock star. Sure, I can sit in the same room with sparkle shirt (and even tell him later that I like his shirt), dancing lady, Harvey guy, big hair guy, Amanda and Mike, but that does not change the fact that on most days and nights of the week I am a Friday mother.

I change diapers. I wipe little bums. I listen to my baby chortle in his crib. I do laundry and more laundry. I grocery shop and price compare. I attempt to answer Aidan's questions: Who is baby Jesus' father and why wasn't there enough room at the inn? Where do angels live? And then I feel like a wolf in sheep's clothing, even though it seems like I should try for an answer. I pour milk and juice and make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I go places. I smooth wrinkles. I give kisses. I worry. Hard to reduce being a Friday mother to a list.

What would the list look like for rock star? Do rock stars read? What would happen if Friday mother met Monday rock star?

I'd like to find out.

Bowl full of mush...

Just finished a lot of bookkeeping. Year end. Done. Finally. Maybe now I can use my brain for something better.

I saw a Borges manuscript at the New England Antiquarian Book Fair this weekend. Cool, written in lots of colors, just $8500. It reminds me to remind you to make your notes and writings interesting. Doodle around the edges and write without lines. Make the thing beautiful, even if that isn't the point.

To the library this week, to the magazines in the children's section. To look at what they take. To send things away. To use my brain. To make some money. To try, at least.

Borges

I like blogging. There is something deeply satisfying about it. I also see danger for myself, the danger of always being able to read what I have written.

I agree with Amanda. I do not want my mind to "turn to mush." So I'm doing things that aren't really important, but feel important. Like writing e-mails to anti-feminists. Why can't they be "for" something instead of "against"? (What is the question mark rule with quotations?) And I'm reading Borges. The following quotation makes me feel like I am thinking about something. It was written by Francis Bacon: Essays, LVIII and opens Borges' story "The Immortal."

"Solomon saith: There is no new thing upon the earth. So that as Plato had an imagination, that all knowledge was but remembrance; so Solomon giveth his sentence, that all novelty is but oblivion."

Borges goes on to write a story about a man's quest for immortality. This man meets a Troglodyte (people who "devour serpents and lack all verbal commerce"), names him Argos after Odysseus' dog only to discover that Argos is the immortal Homer. After living as an immortal for some time, this same man seeks the river whose waters take immortality away. The reader is left wondering if any of the above actually happened.

So my mind is dancing and it feels like thinking.

from tights to feminism

Went googling for striped or polka spotted tights for Aidan. Turned up "Ladies Against Feminism," a website for/by women who like having the vote and like being able to create websites, but wish feminists did not exist. Where is Elizabeth Cady Stanton when I need her? My e-mail to the "ladies" at the site in which I asked them to think about changing their name--I thought that a history lesson about the long struggle for the vote would help--has not yet been answered. I am willing to wait:

for a useful and meaningful definition of the "F" word, without changing the word
for a new president
for hair to grow

Here's to ladies, but not the ones against feminism who want the website and the vote, but not the baggage of a word.
Here's to mothers, especially those of the Friday variety.

Cole's first sleepover

Woke up at quarter to six. Wishing my body knew to sleep longer. No parrotlike screeches coming from other room. No snuggle up, four in bed. Had too much time to read exit poll info. at cnn. Looked at maps of counties. Utah--all red. Why do I spend my time this way when I could be doing something else? should go to new blog instead.

Abigal cries? I'm only a little convinced.

Here's hoping that other Friday moms will post. About your sleepless night, or the toilet clogging, about things political or things apolitical, about phone calls to poison control or babies crying or not crying.

James told me to post about my frustration with a book titled The Wonder of Girls in which author (whose name I can't remember) picks a fight with feminism. Must check out book in order to have post be something more than a rant.

The baby cries!

Just a quick note before I go to bed. Everyone, Jane can tell you: Abigail cries! On the way home from a lovely dinner in Portsmouth. She wouldn't stop.

I hope this blog is a good forum for all of us. It's nice sometimes to write something someone else might read, just to get it off your chest. It can at least keep us amused.

upon being a Friday mom

I am a Friday mom. Does that mean that I don't have to change poopy diapers on the other days?