Earlier this week I posted about my favorite Indian cookbook on my lovely friend Debbie's blog for the vintage-obsessed, Did You Buy That New.
On Sustenance, I put up some beginner's tips for starting seeds indoors.
And today I posted to MOMocrats about the 21st century American phenomenon of health-insurance-based marriages of convenience.
Showing posts with label Momocrats. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Momocrats. Show all posts
Friday, February 19, 2010
Friday, May 08, 2009
Mother's Day Every Day: My Story, Part I
Over at MOMocrats.com, we're asking our readers to participate in a blog event for Mother's Day to promote Mother's Day Every Day, a campaign by the White Ribbon Alliance for Safe Motherhood and CARE to raise public awareness about maternal mortality worldwide.
Every minute, somewhere in the world, another woman dies due to complications from pregnancy or childbirth. But it doesn't have to be that way. Many of these deaths could be prevented with the most basic medical prenatal care, or with the assistance of a skilled midwife, nurse or doctor during delivery.
To help promote safe motherhood worldwide, MOMocrats is asking readers to share birth or adoption stories that have meaning to them in honor of Mother's Day, and link back to the Mother's Day Every Day site. For more information on this event, please read my post at MOMocrats.
This is part one of my contribution to Mother's Day Every Day. I'll be posting the second half of my birth story tomorrow.
Seven months into my pregnancy with my son, I started having contractions that were strong enough to stop me in my tracks. They would come every couple of hours, every day; at times they would wake me up at night. My doctor dismissed them at first, saying they were "just" Braxton-Hicks contractions -- practice for labor. But they didn't feel like "just" anything. They felt like someone was squeezing my entire midsection with iron bands.
Then one morning, at about seven and a half months, I woke up in the morning with contractions ten minutes apart. By the middle of the day, I was headed to the hospital for a pre-term labor evaluation.
Up until that point, during my entire pregnancy, I has been working more than 50 hours a week at two different jobs. Many mornings I walked to my full-time job, two miles from my house, and then stood or walked for much of the day. I worked for a small business that served customers in-person in a store at the front of the building while simultaneously running an international internet and telephone operation out of the stockroom in the back. As a low-level manager, I was expected to supervise employees, sell merchandise to people inside the store while simultaneously taking shipping orders over the phone, track orders that came in through the website, and answer company email. There wasn't much time to sit down and put my feet up. After eight hours of this, I sometimes walked to my second job another two miles away to stand for another three or four hours.
That's a lot of walking and standing for a pregnant woman, and in the weeks I'd been having contractions, I'd noticed that walking and standing for hours at a time made the contractions worse.
But working so much was what I felt I had to do. I had discovered that I was pregnant (Surprise!) one month after my husband had lost his job to a company bankruptcy so severe his last paycheck had bounced. Now he was working two part-time jobs while he looked for a new employer, and I was staying at a job I'd meant to quit, and working a second job to try to save enough money that we could move out of our one-bedroom apartment with the leaky sink and broken door to a place that looked something more like a home for a baby.
Now I was in the hospital, a month and a half pre-term, wheezing in pain every ten minutes, with a beeping monitor strapped to my belly, and a pleasant also-pregnant nurse beside me clucking wordlessly over printouts I did not understand. And guilt was choking me. Was I about to go into labor six weeks early because I hadn't been able to slow down and take care of myself -- take care of the child inside me, my child?
And that was when I started really talking to my unborn baby for the first time. "Stay in there," I said loudly, sternly, to my belly, ignoring passing doctors' odd stares. The baby started kicking in response to my voice. "This is your mother speaking," I continued, "and I am telling you, you need to stay inside. I know it's probably very boring stuck floating in the dark, and I know I've been working too much and I haven't been resting enough for you, and I'm sorry. But we're just not ready for you to come out yet. I haven't even gotten your crib. And I don't have any preemie clothes. I've only bought newborn outfits. If you come out today, you'll have to be naked. Naked! Naked and cold. Did I mention it's cold out here? And bright. Very bright. And it's loud. So you'd better just stay in there for a while yet. At least stay in there until I have your crib set up."
The contractions slowed over the next hour. After instructing me to drink half a gallon of water and rest, the hospital sent me home.
And my doctor told me to cut my work hours in half, start taking breaks at work every couple of hours, sit down whenever possible, stop climbing on ladders to retrieve merchandise, and stop carrying around heavy things. He also told me to lay down as much as possible while at home, and leave all my housework to my husband. I brought my doctor's instructions into my male employer, who somewhat reluctantly complied. He had never had a pregnant employee before.
("Why doesn't he want you climbing ladders anymore?" my boss asked, genuinely perplexed.
"Because I'm having contractions on a regular basis and might fall?" I replied. "And anyway, have you ever tried climbing a ladder with a baby strapped to your stomach? It's not an easy task."
"Well, I just hope everyone else doesn't start wanting a chair behind the counter," he grumbled as he brought in my new stool.)
The contractions never stopped, but they stayed half an hour to an hour apart, and I stayed out of labor.
Several weeks later, early in the morning on Mother's Day, two weeks before my due date, I spent the morning helping my husband finish the assembly of our new crib. Fierce contractions gripped me every 20 minutes or so, but I'd grown so used to them at that point that I continued working through them. I wasn't supposed to be lifting heavy things, but there were no restrictions on my use of screwdrivers, and my husband being rather infamously incapable of hanging curtains in a straight line (despite his uncannily good skill at wiring outlets, fixing broken computers and saving dead cell phones), I felt my oversight of this project was necessary.
Once we had the crib built and in the right spot, I felt a sudden, overwhelming, irresitable urge to buy a crib mattress cover. It was the one part of the crib bedding we didn't yet have, and I suddenly felt that not having one was a serious emergency. "We're going to Babies R Us now. I want the cover today," I said to my husband. It was not a request.
(Those experienced with childbirth will realize that this was the moment I should have realized that I was really in labor. But after a month of daily intense contractions, I had no idea.)
So my husband drove me to the baby store, and as I walked through the aisles snatching things that I suddenly realized I must have and have immediately with the all the deadly calm intensity of an Olympic sprinter, stopping every several minutes to double over in silence breathe through another painful contraction, other people in the store stopped to stare at the woman who was CLEARLY SHOPPING WHILE IN LABOR. When I got to the checkout, the woman behind the counter took one look at me and turned a sickly shade of imminent-insurance-disaster green.
"Are you . . . all right?" she asked me as I breathed Lamaze-style while calmly piling my purchases on the counter.
"I'm fine, thank you. And I also need this hairbrush," I said, practically tearing it from an endcap display.
And then I went home and calmly put all of the crib bedding together. The moment I had the crib assembled and ready, my contractions moved to five minutes apart.
My son always has had a habit of taking my instructions literally.
Every minute, somewhere in the world, another woman dies due to complications from pregnancy or childbirth. But it doesn't have to be that way. Many of these deaths could be prevented with the most basic medical prenatal care, or with the assistance of a skilled midwife, nurse or doctor during delivery.
To help promote safe motherhood worldwide, MOMocrats is asking readers to share birth or adoption stories that have meaning to them in honor of Mother's Day, and link back to the Mother's Day Every Day site. For more information on this event, please read my post at MOMocrats.
This is part one of my contribution to Mother's Day Every Day. I'll be posting the second half of my birth story tomorrow.
Seven months into my pregnancy with my son, I started having contractions that were strong enough to stop me in my tracks. They would come every couple of hours, every day; at times they would wake me up at night. My doctor dismissed them at first, saying they were "just" Braxton-Hicks contractions -- practice for labor. But they didn't feel like "just" anything. They felt like someone was squeezing my entire midsection with iron bands.
Then one morning, at about seven and a half months, I woke up in the morning with contractions ten minutes apart. By the middle of the day, I was headed to the hospital for a pre-term labor evaluation.
Up until that point, during my entire pregnancy, I has been working more than 50 hours a week at two different jobs. Many mornings I walked to my full-time job, two miles from my house, and then stood or walked for much of the day. I worked for a small business that served customers in-person in a store at the front of the building while simultaneously running an international internet and telephone operation out of the stockroom in the back. As a low-level manager, I was expected to supervise employees, sell merchandise to people inside the store while simultaneously taking shipping orders over the phone, track orders that came in through the website, and answer company email. There wasn't much time to sit down and put my feet up. After eight hours of this, I sometimes walked to my second job another two miles away to stand for another three or four hours.
That's a lot of walking and standing for a pregnant woman, and in the weeks I'd been having contractions, I'd noticed that walking and standing for hours at a time made the contractions worse.
But working so much was what I felt I had to do. I had discovered that I was pregnant (Surprise!) one month after my husband had lost his job to a company bankruptcy so severe his last paycheck had bounced. Now he was working two part-time jobs while he looked for a new employer, and I was staying at a job I'd meant to quit, and working a second job to try to save enough money that we could move out of our one-bedroom apartment with the leaky sink and broken door to a place that looked something more like a home for a baby.
Now I was in the hospital, a month and a half pre-term, wheezing in pain every ten minutes, with a beeping monitor strapped to my belly, and a pleasant also-pregnant nurse beside me clucking wordlessly over printouts I did not understand. And guilt was choking me. Was I about to go into labor six weeks early because I hadn't been able to slow down and take care of myself -- take care of the child inside me, my child?
And that was when I started really talking to my unborn baby for the first time. "Stay in there," I said loudly, sternly, to my belly, ignoring passing doctors' odd stares. The baby started kicking in response to my voice. "This is your mother speaking," I continued, "and I am telling you, you need to stay inside. I know it's probably very boring stuck floating in the dark, and I know I've been working too much and I haven't been resting enough for you, and I'm sorry. But we're just not ready for you to come out yet. I haven't even gotten your crib. And I don't have any preemie clothes. I've only bought newborn outfits. If you come out today, you'll have to be naked. Naked! Naked and cold. Did I mention it's cold out here? And bright. Very bright. And it's loud. So you'd better just stay in there for a while yet. At least stay in there until I have your crib set up."
The contractions slowed over the next hour. After instructing me to drink half a gallon of water and rest, the hospital sent me home.
And my doctor told me to cut my work hours in half, start taking breaks at work every couple of hours, sit down whenever possible, stop climbing on ladders to retrieve merchandise, and stop carrying around heavy things. He also told me to lay down as much as possible while at home, and leave all my housework to my husband. I brought my doctor's instructions into my male employer, who somewhat reluctantly complied. He had never had a pregnant employee before.
("Why doesn't he want you climbing ladders anymore?" my boss asked, genuinely perplexed.
"Because I'm having contractions on a regular basis and might fall?" I replied. "And anyway, have you ever tried climbing a ladder with a baby strapped to your stomach? It's not an easy task."
"Well, I just hope everyone else doesn't start wanting a chair behind the counter," he grumbled as he brought in my new stool.)
The contractions never stopped, but they stayed half an hour to an hour apart, and I stayed out of labor.
Several weeks later, early in the morning on Mother's Day, two weeks before my due date, I spent the morning helping my husband finish the assembly of our new crib. Fierce contractions gripped me every 20 minutes or so, but I'd grown so used to them at that point that I continued working through them. I wasn't supposed to be lifting heavy things, but there were no restrictions on my use of screwdrivers, and my husband being rather infamously incapable of hanging curtains in a straight line (despite his uncannily good skill at wiring outlets, fixing broken computers and saving dead cell phones), I felt my oversight of this project was necessary.
Once we had the crib built and in the right spot, I felt a sudden, overwhelming, irresitable urge to buy a crib mattress cover. It was the one part of the crib bedding we didn't yet have, and I suddenly felt that not having one was a serious emergency. "We're going to Babies R Us now. I want the cover today," I said to my husband. It was not a request.
(Those experienced with childbirth will realize that this was the moment I should have realized that I was really in labor. But after a month of daily intense contractions, I had no idea.)
So my husband drove me to the baby store, and as I walked through the aisles snatching things that I suddenly realized I must have and have immediately with the all the deadly calm intensity of an Olympic sprinter, stopping every several minutes to double over in silence breathe through another painful contraction, other people in the store stopped to stare at the woman who was CLEARLY SHOPPING WHILE IN LABOR. When I got to the checkout, the woman behind the counter took one look at me and turned a sickly shade of imminent-insurance-disaster green.
"Are you . . . all right?" she asked me as I breathed Lamaze-style while calmly piling my purchases on the counter.
"I'm fine, thank you. And I also need this hairbrush," I said, practically tearing it from an endcap display.
And then I went home and calmly put all of the crib bedding together. The moment I had the crib assembled and ready, my contractions moved to five minutes apart.
My son always has had a habit of taking my instructions literally.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Busy Signal
I've been ridiculously busy the past few weeks, growing plants in my basement (no, not THAT kind — organic tomatoes and basil), putting in my new, second vegetable garden bed (and battling sewer beavers) and supporting women's rights in Afghanistan and opposing torture and asking the government to help parents stay home with their sick kids if they catch swine flu and putting on an SEO webinar with Parent Bloggers Network and taking on three brand new SEO clients and, you know, generally plotting to take over the world.
But I haven't forgotten this little blog. My first little blog that could. I have lots of things I'd like to write here, things that don't fit very well in the other, more heavily-trafficked places on the internet I've lately moved into. Things about parenting, about philosophy, about life.
I hope I'll have more time, soon, to write them.
But I haven't forgotten this little blog. My first little blog that could. I have lots of things I'd like to write here, things that don't fit very well in the other, more heavily-trafficked places on the internet I've lately moved into. Things about parenting, about philosophy, about life.
I hope I'll have more time, soon, to write them.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Michelle Obama Guest Posted on MOMocrats
She did! For serious! Looky here:
Michelle Obama wants you to register to vote.
Missouri's deadline to register in order to be eligible to vote in this year's presidential election is October 8th.
Are you registered to vote under your current name at your current address? Are you currently listed on the rolls as an active voter?
Even if you currently think you are registered, you may not be. If you haven't voted in the last two local elections, your registration may have been listed as inactive.
If you're not sure whether your current voter registration is up to date, please contact your local Board of Elections to check before you miss the registration deadline.
St. Louis County Board of Elections
St. Louis City Board of Elections
Kansas City Board of Elections
Jackson County Board of Elections
Michelle Obama wants you to register to vote.
Missouri's deadline to register in order to be eligible to vote in this year's presidential election is October 8th.
Are you registered to vote under your current name at your current address? Are you currently listed on the rolls as an active voter?
Even if you currently think you are registered, you may not be. If you haven't voted in the last two local elections, your registration may have been listed as inactive.
If you're not sure whether your current voter registration is up to date, please contact your local Board of Elections to check before you miss the registration deadline.
St. Louis County Board of Elections
St. Louis City Board of Elections
Kansas City Board of Elections
Jackson County Board of Elections
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Back from the Democratic National Convention
So, do you want to know what it's really like to be a blogger at the DNC?
Well, I certainly saw some inspiring speeches.
But I missed John Legend. Damn it.
On the bright side, I did not get caught in a riot like my friends did.
This guy from MySpace and MSNBC called me a MILFocrat in an interview. He did. I swear. If only he would actually post the video I could show you.
I did NOT get interviewed by Katie Couric. I found out from MOMocrat Debbie, who had found out from Jane from Firedoglake, who had found out from somebody else at The Big Tent that Katie Couric was, in fact, looking for, ahem, "The Mommybloggers," aka the MOMocrats, on Monday. Trouble is, we did not hear that she was looking for us until Tuesday.
You should have told me, Katie. I was right next to you on Monday night at the Pepsi Center.
I did see many excellent hats.
I'm not finished talking about the convention yet! So much happened that I didn't have time to write about it all while I was there. Coming soon on MOMocrats, my thoughts on:
The Mom Who Made 9,000 Obama Pins
Peta Pigs, Pot Proponents and Code Pink
Lunch with Hillary Clinton
Howard Dean's Message to Democratic Youth
An Interview with a Missouri Delegate
First Americans at the Convention
Well, I certainly saw some inspiring speeches.
But I missed John Legend. Damn it.
On the bright side, I did not get caught in a riot like my friends did.
This guy from MySpace and MSNBC called me a MILFocrat in an interview. He did. I swear. If only he would actually post the video I could show you.
I did NOT get interviewed by Katie Couric. I found out from MOMocrat Debbie, who had found out from Jane from Firedoglake, who had found out from somebody else at The Big Tent that Katie Couric was, in fact, looking for, ahem, "The Mommybloggers," aka the MOMocrats, on Monday. Trouble is, we did not hear that she was looking for us until Tuesday.
You should have told me, Katie. I was right next to you on Monday night at the Pepsi Center.
I did see many excellent hats.
I'm not finished talking about the convention yet! So much happened that I didn't have time to write about it all while I was there. Coming soon on MOMocrats, my thoughts on:
The Mom Who Made 9,000 Obama Pins
Peta Pigs, Pot Proponents and Code Pink
Lunch with Hillary Clinton
Howard Dean's Message to Democratic Youth
An Interview with a Missouri Delegate
First Americans at the Convention
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
A DNC '08 Postcard for Stephen Colbert
Hey, Stephen:
That's my husband eating a real Denver omelette while actually in Denver.
I have so many stories to tell about my trip. But I'm crazy busy writing for MOMocrats. Here are some highlights:
On our way to Denver, one of our tires blew out on the highway in rural Kansas outside a small town called Hays. It was Saturday evening at around 6:30. We do not have a full-sized spare.
As we were frantically trying to get some totally clueless people at our insurance company to give us a number for a tow company (they oh-so-helpfully offered a number to a tow company on the opposite side of the state), a Kansas state trooper stopped to help us. He pulled out a power ratchet and helped us put the donut on in half the time it might have taken us otherwise. His intervention got us to the only open tire store, the local Walmart Tire Center, just before they closed.
The Walmart people actually installed a new tire in less than an hour, and they did it correctly. (I attribute this miraculous moment of good service to the fact that this was a rural Walmart. You may not know this if you have never been to one, but rural Walmarts are usually actually staffed by competent people. So, thanks to the incredibly kind people of Hays for getting some city folk to Denver.
(Except for YOU, not-so-closet white supremacist dude. over at the next table at the pancake house we stopped at there for dinner. Upon noticing our Obama pins, you started talking to your companion accidentally-on-purpose-too-loudly about how "I know there are some people in the KKK who are not gonna let this happen, not that I want them to do anything of course, but you know that they will." Guess what, dude? You're not fooling anyone. Everyone knows you're a racist jerk. Dumbass.)
In Denver we are staying with an AWESOME hostess, Renee, who is a fan of the MOMocrats. Not only did this woman open her beautiful Craftsman home to a strange family she had never met in person, but she also stayed up until two in the morning to let us in after we were exceedingly delayed by the exploding tire incident. She has been granted permanent honorary MOMocrat status.
I have now run into Donna Brazile (as in, walked within a foot of her) five times. Yet none of those times have I been able to actually speak to her.
I was forced to decide on Wednesday between having lunch with Howard Dean, and having lunch with Hillary Clinton. (I chose Clinton.)
Isaac fell down a flight of concrete stairs right before the Clinton lunch, and really banged up his ear. The top of his ear immediately turned blue and swelled up to double it's size. I almost didn't go to the lunch, but John insisted he would take care of Isaac. The whole time I was at the lunch, I was worried about my son. Because of this, I didn't actually talk to Hillary Clinton at all.
When I saw Isaac after the lunch was over, the swelling was down and his ear barely looked scraped.
I went to the First Americans Caucus meeting today. I am fairly certain I was the only press person there not employed by a Native American advocacy group. This is not because the press do not go to caucus meetings. When I was at a Youth Caucus meeting earlier, there were tons of press there.
This pissed me off.
I am going to blog the hell out of that First Americans Caucus meeting on MOMocrats. Count on it.
Tomorrow I am going to see Barack Obama's speech at Invesco Field. I have no idea what to wear.
That's my husband eating a real Denver omelette while actually in Denver.
I have so many stories to tell about my trip. But I'm crazy busy writing for MOMocrats. Here are some highlights:
On our way to Denver, one of our tires blew out on the highway in rural Kansas outside a small town called Hays. It was Saturday evening at around 6:30. We do not have a full-sized spare.
As we were frantically trying to get some totally clueless people at our insurance company to give us a number for a tow company (they oh-so-helpfully offered a number to a tow company on the opposite side of the state), a Kansas state trooper stopped to help us. He pulled out a power ratchet and helped us put the donut on in half the time it might have taken us otherwise. His intervention got us to the only open tire store, the local Walmart Tire Center, just before they closed.
The Walmart people actually installed a new tire in less than an hour, and they did it correctly. (I attribute this miraculous moment of good service to the fact that this was a rural Walmart. You may not know this if you have never been to one, but rural Walmarts are usually actually staffed by competent people. So, thanks to the incredibly kind people of Hays for getting some city folk to Denver.
(Except for YOU, not-so-closet white supremacist dude. over at the next table at the pancake house we stopped at there for dinner. Upon noticing our Obama pins, you started talking to your companion accidentally-on-purpose-too-loudly about how "I know there are some people in the KKK who are not gonna let this happen, not that I want them to do anything of course, but you know that they will." Guess what, dude? You're not fooling anyone. Everyone knows you're a racist jerk. Dumbass.)
In Denver we are staying with an AWESOME hostess, Renee, who is a fan of the MOMocrats. Not only did this woman open her beautiful Craftsman home to a strange family she had never met in person, but she also stayed up until two in the morning to let us in after we were exceedingly delayed by the exploding tire incident. She has been granted permanent honorary MOMocrat status.
I have now run into Donna Brazile (as in, walked within a foot of her) five times. Yet none of those times have I been able to actually speak to her.
I was forced to decide on Wednesday between having lunch with Howard Dean, and having lunch with Hillary Clinton. (I chose Clinton.)
Isaac fell down a flight of concrete stairs right before the Clinton lunch, and really banged up his ear. The top of his ear immediately turned blue and swelled up to double it's size. I almost didn't go to the lunch, but John insisted he would take care of Isaac. The whole time I was at the lunch, I was worried about my son. Because of this, I didn't actually talk to Hillary Clinton at all.
When I saw Isaac after the lunch was over, the swelling was down and his ear barely looked scraped.
I went to the First Americans Caucus meeting today. I am fairly certain I was the only press person there not employed by a Native American advocacy group. This is not because the press do not go to caucus meetings. When I was at a Youth Caucus meeting earlier, there were tons of press there.
This pissed me off.
I am going to blog the hell out of that First Americans Caucus meeting on MOMocrats. Count on it.
Tomorrow I am going to see Barack Obama's speech at Invesco Field. I have no idea what to wear.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Shameless Plug Alert: Top Ten Reasons to Enter the MOMocrats Raffle
10.) It's a cheap thrill. Only $6 for two tickets.
9.) You might win something cool.
8.) You'll earn good blogging karma for helping out some fellow bloggers.
7.) You're my friend and you know I'd enter your fundraising raffle if you had one.
6.) Did I mention it's cheap? $3 per ticket? That's less than a gallon of gas! That's less than a gallon of milk!
Heck, in a month or two, I'm pretty sure that will be less than an apple.
5.) You want to support Powerful Blogger Ladies.
4.) This is only the second year that the Democratic National Convention has admitted bloggers as press. We at MOMocrats.com want to prove to the DNCC that bloggers play a vital role in the public discourse, and deserve seats in the press box. To that end we want to send as many MOMocrats bloggers, and cover as many convention events, as possible. But to do that, we'll need your help with travel and lodging expenses.
3.) We want to bring the convention experience straight to your monitor, with fresh, first-person accounts of events as they happen. Liveblogging. Interactive chats. Live podcasts. Video interviews. We want our readers to feel like they're right there with us in Denver. But to do that, we'll need your help to purchase some new equipment: wireless cards that will allow us to blog from anywhere. Video cameras. Voice recorders. Etc.
2.) Of the 124 blogs offered official credentials to cover the Democratic National Convention, MOMocrats is the only credentialed blog specifically focused on engaging more mothers in the political process. Sure, we'll be asking the politicians we meet there about issues that affect everyone, and are big in the news, like the environment and the economy (see #6). But we'll also be asking the politicians we meet there about education. We will be asking about child product safety. We will be asking them about child safety on the internet. We will be asking them about family leave, and discrimination against mothers in the workplace, and health care for children with special needs.
Will CNN be asking all of those questions? Will NBC? Will Fox?
1.) If you help get us to Denver (or event if you don't), we'll help take your specific questions and concerns to some of our government's top movers and shakers. If there's something you've been wanting to ask Claire McCaskill, or Nancy Pelosi, or Howard Dean, send us an email or drop us a comment. We'll pay attention.
Visit the MOMocrats.com Help a Mama Swag-o-Rama if you'd like to purchase a raffle ticket.
9.) You might win something cool.
8.) You'll earn good blogging karma for helping out some fellow bloggers.
7.) You're my friend and you know I'd enter your fundraising raffle if you had one.
6.) Did I mention it's cheap? $3 per ticket? That's less than a gallon of gas! That's less than a gallon of milk!
Heck, in a month or two, I'm pretty sure that will be less than an apple.
5.) You want to support Powerful Blogger Ladies.
4.) This is only the second year that the Democratic National Convention has admitted bloggers as press. We at MOMocrats.com want to prove to the DNCC that bloggers play a vital role in the public discourse, and deserve seats in the press box. To that end we want to send as many MOMocrats bloggers, and cover as many convention events, as possible. But to do that, we'll need your help with travel and lodging expenses.
3.) We want to bring the convention experience straight to your monitor, with fresh, first-person accounts of events as they happen. Liveblogging. Interactive chats. Live podcasts. Video interviews. We want our readers to feel like they're right there with us in Denver. But to do that, we'll need your help to purchase some new equipment: wireless cards that will allow us to blog from anywhere. Video cameras. Voice recorders. Etc.
2.) Of the 124 blogs offered official credentials to cover the Democratic National Convention, MOMocrats is the only credentialed blog specifically focused on engaging more mothers in the political process. Sure, we'll be asking the politicians we meet there about issues that affect everyone, and are big in the news, like the environment and the economy (see #6). But we'll also be asking the politicians we meet there about education. We will be asking about child product safety. We will be asking them about child safety on the internet. We will be asking them about family leave, and discrimination against mothers in the workplace, and health care for children with special needs.
Will CNN be asking all of those questions? Will NBC? Will Fox?
1.) If you help get us to Denver (or event if you don't), we'll help take your specific questions and concerns to some of our government's top movers and shakers. If there's something you've been wanting to ask Claire McCaskill, or Nancy Pelosi, or Howard Dean, send us an email or drop us a comment. We'll pay attention.
Visit the MOMocrats.com Help a Mama Swag-o-Rama if you'd like to purchase a raffle ticket.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
I'm Going to BlogHer
And I just wanted to mention that I would not have been able to go this year, for the first time ever, if some of my fellow MOMocrats hadn't chipped in toward my flight.
Thanks, friends. You surpass awesome.
While I'm at BlogHer, I'll be making predictions on behalf of Predictify.com which is a totally cool site you should really check out, and I'm not just saying that because they paid my registration fee. Really, it's fun. Look for me under username MOMocratJaelithe.
And also I'll be looking for potential speakers ans sponsors for Inter:PLAY STL on behalf of the St. Louis Bloggers Guild. And I'll be brunching with the Silicon Valley Moms. And possibly stalking some people. Probably mostly Bossy.
Thanks, friends. You surpass awesome.
While I'm at BlogHer, I'll be making predictions on behalf of Predictify.com which is a totally cool site you should really check out, and I'm not just saying that because they paid my registration fee. Really, it's fun. Look for me under username MOMocratJaelithe.
And also I'll be looking for potential speakers ans sponsors for Inter:PLAY STL on behalf of the St. Louis Bloggers Guild. And I'll be brunching with the Silicon Valley Moms. And possibly stalking some people. Probably mostly Bossy.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Interview with Margaret Donnelly
Just wanted to give anyone who might be interested a heads up that I recently interviewed Margaret Donnelly, the first woman ever to run for Missouri Attorney General, over at MOMocrats. And today I also brought up the subject of politics over at The St. Louis Bloggers Guild.
(*Ducks*)
Local readers, I have a question for you: which Missouri (or Iowan, Kansan, Nebraskan, or Illinoisan) politician would you like me tostalk interview next?
(Local politicians who may be reading this, if you'd like me to interview you, please feel free to chime in. Except for you, Shamed Dogan. I don't interview people I went to high school with.)
(It's for the greater good that I don't. Really.)
(*Ducks*)
Local readers, I have a question for you: which Missouri (or Iowan, Kansan, Nebraskan, or Illinoisan) politician would you like me to
(Local politicians who may be reading this, if you'd like me to interview you, please feel free to chime in. Except for you, Shamed Dogan. I don't interview people I went to high school with.)
(It's for the greater good that I don't. Really.)
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Hey, Sorry I Haven't Been Around Much, Folks
But I've had a busy couple of weeks. Aside from my involvement in an epic arms race against fuzzy, adorable, rapacious baby rabbits with a taste for rosemary, sage, oregano, dead nettle, (poisonous!) tansy, and, hey, apparently, ANYTHING THAT GROWS, I've been working on a series of interviews with political candidates.
If you'd like to see what I've been up to, go read the first half of my MOMocrats interview with Nebraska Senate hopeful Scott Kleeb, a cattle rancher, duck hunter, and genuine cowboy who also happens to have a Master's in International Relations and a PhD in History.
I promise to be back here soon with the final post in my Victory Gardens series, as well as a meditation on the question of whether or not to have a second child.
If you'd like to see what I've been up to, go read the first half of my MOMocrats interview with Nebraska Senate hopeful Scott Kleeb, a cattle rancher, duck hunter, and genuine cowboy who also happens to have a Master's in International Relations and a PhD in History.
I promise to be back here soon with the final post in my Victory Gardens series, as well as a meditation on the question of whether or not to have a second child.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Happy Mother's Day to Me
The wind and storms have killed four of my bean plants, nearly knocked over a young apple tree, and worsened a problem we already had with a loose gutter to the point of emergency.
And Isaac woke up this morning crying that his stomach hurt, and later spewed his breakfast all over the sofa. So far today he's been able to keep down six crackers.
So . . .
Instead of the sappy book-length combined Mother's Day/kid's fourth birthday post I'd planned to write today, I'm just going to send you here for a series of posts on what some moms I hang with want for Mother's Day.
I wish all my mama friends a Happy Mother's Day that involves getting properly pampered.
And I hope all of my readers will take a moment today to remember this day's original meaning, and pray/meditate/think strongly about bequeathing our children a future of peace.
Meanwhile I'll spend my day mopping up vomit and starting some new bean sprouts while my husband is outside on a ladder hammering on the roof in gale force winds. Wish me luck.
And Isaac woke up this morning crying that his stomach hurt, and later spewed his breakfast all over the sofa. So far today he's been able to keep down six crackers.
So . . .
Instead of the sappy book-length combined Mother's Day/kid's fourth birthday post I'd planned to write today, I'm just going to send you here for a series of posts on what some moms I hang with want for Mother's Day.
I wish all my mama friends a Happy Mother's Day that involves getting properly pampered.
And I hope all of my readers will take a moment today to remember this day's original meaning, and pray/meditate/think strongly about bequeathing our children a future of peace.
Meanwhile I'll spend my day mopping up vomit and starting some new bean sprouts while my husband is outside on a ladder hammering on the roof in gale force winds. Wish me luck.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Hangin' at the Democratic PARTY
Here I am at the Missouri State Democratic Convention in Columbia, Missouri, blogging from an overpriced hotel restaurant with crumbling '70s decor, lamenting the fact that my hash browns are soggy and my eight dollar breakfast includes nothing to put in my coffee but partially hydrogenated soybean oil with corn syrup solids.
My husband and I, who are both pledged Obama delegates to the Missouri State Convention, arrived last night to discover the largest collection of liberal bumper stickers we had ever seen in one parking lot:
Because we're parents of a (four! FOUR! *SOB*)
four-year-old, we of course showed up about an hour later than we'd planned, but just in time to crash the fringes of a paid dinner partywe were too poor to spring for we arrived too late to attend that had trickled out from a convention hall into the hotel lobby.
We ran into a bunch of delegates from our own Fightin' First Congressional District, as well as some great people from the Second and Third Districts that we knew from Obama campaign emails and meetings. We also happened across Russ Carnahan and Clint Zweifel. (No pictures of them yet. Sorry. Will attempt to rectify.)
The Obama afterparty was dominated by people from the east side of the state, as demonstrated by the choice of pizza:
And the fact that everyone kept asking everyone else where they'd gone to high school.
Interestingly, there were a ton of delegates there who had graduated high school in the year 1998, including, of course, my husband, myself, and these guys:
Perhaps this abundance of High School Class of '98 members getting involved with the delegate process to make SURE their votes count has something to do with the fact that we all voted for president for the first time in the year, ahem, 2000?
(Notice to the Supreme Court: We're after you next.)
Anyway it was inspiring to see that so many 20- and 30-somethings are participating in the delegate selection process, many of them for the first time.
I've been passing out MOMocrats cards to everyone willing to talk to me, and I'll be blogging a recap of the whole convention for MOMocrats as soon as we finish our Mother's Day "Dreams of a Mother" Series.
And now I'm off to try and find Senator Claire McCaskill, to see if I can convince her to write a guest post for MOMocrats.
My husband and I, who are both pledged Obama delegates to the Missouri State Convention, arrived last night to discover the largest collection of liberal bumper stickers we had ever seen in one parking lot:
Seriously, EVERY car had at least one sticker.
Because we're parents of a (four! FOUR! *SOB*)
four-year-old, we of course showed up about an hour later than we'd planned, but just in time to crash the fringes of a paid dinner party
We ran into a bunch of delegates from our own Fightin' First Congressional District, as well as some great people from the Second and Third Districts that we knew from Obama campaign emails and meetings. We also happened across Russ Carnahan and Clint Zweifel. (No pictures of them yet. Sorry. Will attempt to rectify.)
The Obama afterparty was dominated by people from the east side of the state, as demonstrated by the choice of pizza:
And the fact that everyone kept asking everyone else where they'd gone to high school.
Interestingly, there were a ton of delegates there who had graduated high school in the year 1998, including, of course, my husband, myself, and these guys:
Perhaps this abundance of High School Class of '98 members getting involved with the delegate process to make SURE their votes count has something to do with the fact that we all voted for president for the first time in the year, ahem, 2000?
(Notice to the Supreme Court: We're after you next.)
Anyway it was inspiring to see that so many 20- and 30-somethings are participating in the delegate selection process, many of them for the first time.
I've been passing out MOMocrats cards to everyone willing to talk to me, and I'll be blogging a recap of the whole convention for MOMocrats as soon as we finish our Mother's Day "Dreams of a Mother" Series.
And now I'm off to try and find Senator Claire McCaskill, to see if I can convince her to write a guest post for MOMocrats.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Momocrats Exclusive with Barack Obama
So, the ABC Democratic Presidential Primary Debate, with its tabloid focus on tangential, media-manufactured campaign "controversies" that have nothing to do with the actual concerns of American citizens made me really, really angry.
But rather than expressing my anger by investing in voodoo dolls of Charles Gibson and George Stephanopoulous, I decided to put that frustrated energy to good use by asking my fellow bloggers over at Momocrats what questions they wished had been asked at the debate. I organized those questions by topic, and edited some of them for clarity. At the suggestion of the group, I added in some reader questions that had been submitted to us previously. And then I wrote this post.
The rest of Momocrats crew thought it would be a good idea to forward our questions to the Clinton and Obama campaigns.
And today, you can read the Obama campaign's response.
Barack Obama answered five of our questions.
Hillary Clinton? The ball is in your court.
(And, ABC? I am available to host This Week, if you promise to provide on-site childcare.)
But rather than expressing my anger by investing in voodoo dolls of Charles Gibson and George Stephanopoulous, I decided to put that frustrated energy to good use by asking my fellow bloggers over at Momocrats what questions they wished had been asked at the debate. I organized those questions by topic, and edited some of them for clarity. At the suggestion of the group, I added in some reader questions that had been submitted to us previously. And then I wrote this post.
The rest of Momocrats crew thought it would be a good idea to forward our questions to the Clinton and Obama campaigns.
And today, you can read the Obama campaign's response.
Barack Obama answered five of our questions.
Hillary Clinton? The ball is in your court.
(And, ABC? I am available to host This Week, if you promise to provide on-site childcare.)
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Better Know a Delegate*
In February, I received an email from a local group of fellow Obama campaign supporters and volunteers mentioning that the Missouri State Democratic Party would be holding caucus meetings in March at the ward and township level to elect delegates to the Missouri State Democratic Convention.
Even though I would consider myself to be a pretty well politically engaged citizen— I follow political news closely; I research political candidates; I attend political rallies; I vote regularly in both national and local elections; I have been known to voluntarily watch CSPAN—I had never been to a Missouri caucus meeting before. As a matter of fact, I had never really considered going to my home state’s Democratic caucus before.
Why not?
Well, in Missouri, we hold a Democratic presidential primary, and the number of delegates assigned to each candidate is determined by the results of that primary. The Missouri caucuses are held, not to choose a candidate, but to choose which Democratic party members from each ward, district or township will be sent to the Missouri State Democratic Convention as delegates pledged to vote for a particular candidate, and then to select a small number of those state-level pledged delegates to be sent on to the Democratic National Convention.
In the past I have trusted that, if I voted in a primary, my voice would be heard by the state party; the election of delegates seemed little more than a symbolic process to me. In recent decades, most Democratic presidential primaries have been decided long before the Democratic National Convention, and the delegates who attended most recent national conventions have done little more than ratify the ascendancy of an already chosen candidate.
But, as any Democrat with a television or internet access knows, this election cycle, things are different.
This time, the fight for the 2008 presidential nomination may well continue right into Denver. And even if it doesn’t, the 2008 Democratic National Convention is certain to go down in history, either as the first to nominate a woman presidential candidate, or the first to nominate an African-American presidential candidate.
This year, I found myself very interested in the Missouri caucuses.
And so, I went to my township caucus meeting, where, much to my surprise, I was elected a state-level delegate on the spot, without even having to plead my case—the turnout at my township meeting was so low that I was basically pressed into service. My husband was also named an Obama delegate at the same meeting.
Thursday night, we attended the Congressional District Caucus Meeting for Missouri's First Congressional District.
If you'd like to read my account of the national-level delegate selection process there, go and check out my very first post at Momocrats!
I'm really honored to have been invited to join this group of passionate, intelligent, opinionated women bloggers. Whether you're interested in a parental perspective on progressive politics, or you're just looking for more news and views about this year's historic Democratic presidential primary race, if you haven't visited Momocrats yet, you don't know what you're missing. Go check it out!
*As always, props to my secret lover Stephen Colbert.
Even though I would consider myself to be a pretty well politically engaged citizen— I follow political news closely; I research political candidates; I attend political rallies; I vote regularly in both national and local elections; I have been known to voluntarily watch CSPAN—I had never been to a Missouri caucus meeting before. As a matter of fact, I had never really considered going to my home state’s Democratic caucus before.
Why not?
Well, in Missouri, we hold a Democratic presidential primary, and the number of delegates assigned to each candidate is determined by the results of that primary. The Missouri caucuses are held, not to choose a candidate, but to choose which Democratic party members from each ward, district or township will be sent to the Missouri State Democratic Convention as delegates pledged to vote for a particular candidate, and then to select a small number of those state-level pledged delegates to be sent on to the Democratic National Convention.
In the past I have trusted that, if I voted in a primary, my voice would be heard by the state party; the election of delegates seemed little more than a symbolic process to me. In recent decades, most Democratic presidential primaries have been decided long before the Democratic National Convention, and the delegates who attended most recent national conventions have done little more than ratify the ascendancy of an already chosen candidate.
But, as any Democrat with a television or internet access knows, this election cycle, things are different.
This time, the fight for the 2008 presidential nomination may well continue right into Denver. And even if it doesn’t, the 2008 Democratic National Convention is certain to go down in history, either as the first to nominate a woman presidential candidate, or the first to nominate an African-American presidential candidate.
This year, I found myself very interested in the Missouri caucuses.
And so, I went to my township caucus meeting, where, much to my surprise, I was elected a state-level delegate on the spot, without even having to plead my case—the turnout at my township meeting was so low that I was basically pressed into service. My husband was also named an Obama delegate at the same meeting.
Thursday night, we attended the Congressional District Caucus Meeting for Missouri's First Congressional District.
If you'd like to read my account of the national-level delegate selection process there, go and check out my very first post at Momocrats!
I'm really honored to have been invited to join this group of passionate, intelligent, opinionated women bloggers. Whether you're interested in a parental perspective on progressive politics, or you're just looking for more news and views about this year's historic Democratic presidential primary race, if you haven't visited Momocrats yet, you don't know what you're missing. Go check it out!
*As always, props to my secret lover Stephen Colbert.
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