Tragic Sandwich

Tag: book

  • I Am Somebody

    Candy Hearts: Love

    When I was young, I would see commercials for RIF: Reading Is Fundamental. The ad showed a bookmobile arriving in a neighborhood, and a child (I think a boy, but it’s been a while) would select a book with the title “I Am Somebody!”

    This weekend, I took Baguette to the mall. Toddlers need to toddle, but not outside when it’s 104 degrees in the shade. At one point, I glanced into a store filled with tween clothes and saw a t-shirt emblazoned with the phrase “Future Mrs. Bieber.”

    Now, I have no real issue with Justin Bieber. He seems to fit in with the same Tiger Beat/Teen Beat pop stars that I remember from my own childhood, also of great appeal to the tweener age group.

    And I believe that a good marriage is a good thing. Mr. Sandwich and I put each other first and consider our marriage to be something that we both contribute to (one of my co-workers once said, “It’s not even like they’re married. They’re a team, like Batman and Robin”–I’m not sure I’d pick that prototype, but I appreciate the sentiment).

    But that shirt just made me angry. Because what it says to me is, “I don’t need my own identity as long as I’m someone’s wife.” And that is not what I want to teach Baguette. It’s not what I want to teach anyone’s daughter.

    Mr. Sandwich and I want Baguette to love herself just as she is, and believe that she has intrinsic human value. We want her to feel confident in her own worth, not feel that she gains importance based on who decided to tolerate her presence. So the question for us is: how do we do that?

    I think we do that the way we teach her everything else: by telling her outright, and modeling behavior. For me, that means accepting and loving myself just as I am, so that as her first female role model (and as her mother, that’s exactly what I am), I present an example of love, compassion, strength, and self-confidence. I know I’m not a supermodel, but I’m far from a troll. Are there things I would change about myself and my appearance? Sure, but I don’t think that those things make me a lesser human being. I know very well that appearance is literally the surface of who we are, and I believe that character is much more–and much more important–than size or shape.

    I know a lot of women who are distressed by their stretch marks after giving birth. I have them, and while it’s not like I jumped up and down for joy when they appeared, I also have suffered not one moment of anxiety that they exist. I always expected to get them–and they’re a natural after-effect of having a child. And beyond that, they show where Baguette used to live. So while it would be nice to have a smooth, flat stomach, I absolutely would not trade the one I have.

    I hope that if I accept myself and my human imperfections, it will be easier for Baguette to do the same. Because I don’t want her to consider herself the “future Mrs. Anybody.” I’d much rather she think, “I Am Somebody!”

    Photo by SeeMidTN.com (aka Brent), via Flickr.

  • Go, Dog, Go!

    Go Dog Go!

    Baguette loves books, but she won’t let me read to her. She grabs the book out of my hand and goes through the pages in whatever order makes sense to her, pointing and chattering about what’s on the page.

    At least, that’s what happened until Monday morning. On Monday, as I was getting her ready for day care and me ready for work, she picked up the board book version of P.D. Eastman’s Go, Dog, Go! and handed it to me to read. When I asked her if she wanted to read it herself, she pushed it at me. So I read it to her, and then read it to her a second time. And I realized that now I have to build reading time into our morning.

    This is tricky. In order to have time with Baguette in the evening, I have to leave work no later than 5:00. That means I have to be at work by 8:00 a.m., which means (with my commute) that I drop her off at day care at 7:00. This works as long as she’s up between 6:00 and 6:15. In order to get my morning stuff done before she’s awake, I get up at 5:30. And that’s already earlier than I want to have either of us wake up. So squeezing book time into that morning is not easy.

    But she also wants me to read it to her at night. Last night, as we were trying to get her to wind down for the evening (and that is no simple task–Baguette hates to go to sleep), she had me read the book. And then read it again. And again. And again. I think I read it at least eight times, always in the slow, soothing delivery I’d normally give to something like Goodnight, Moon. Seriously, you have never known so many fast-moving dogs to travel at such a measured pace.

    But as I look at the book–which I’m now a little crazy about, myself–I am struck by the illustrations in a way I haven’t been before. They really do have an energy and an excitement, and I’m starting to wonder if Dr. Seuss and the Eastmans (and possibly the Berenstains) haven’t done all of us a disservice.

    Because real life just doesn’t measure up to these books.

    Look at that first page, where the dogs jump out of an enormous bed. Isn’t that bed huge? Doesn’t it look like a great place to sleep? Are you that energized when you get out of your bed in the morning? I know I’m not. I don’t think I ever have been.

    And the dogs who travel “by boat.” I want to hang out on that boat. It’s got a doghouse with a diving board. It’s the most awesome dog houseboat imaginable. Look how enthusiastic the swan-diving dog is!

    Mostly, though, it’s the last page (spoiler alert!). Have you ever been to a party as much fun as the dog party? No, I didn’t think so. None of us have, and we probably never will. Parties are fun, but the dog party surpasses them all.

    Real life. It’s just not like board books. And that’s a sad realization.

    Photo by Creative Nickie, via Flickr.

  • Repeat Offender

    I could read Neal Stephenson’s Cryptonomicon over and over. I know because that’s what I’m doing. I’ve read it front to back twice, and the triple storyline makes it easy to dip in and out of a particular plot.

    Why Cryptonomicon? I’m not sure. There are virtually no female characters–then again, that’s never been a requirement for my reading. Is it the World War II setting? The other World War II setting? The contemporary (well, as of when it was written) treasure-hunting? One thing is certain: it’s not the math. I may have taken calculus in high school, but I am not a mathematician. It’s not that I’m bad at it, but I do lack confidence. Also interest. As I’ve learned a little more about math, I see why other people love it–but the real-world applications of higher-level math were not emphasized in the classes I took, possibly because some of those applications didn’t exist then.

    But back to Cryptonomicon: while it is full of math, that’s not essential to the story (well, it is, but you can understand the story without understanding the math). It’s a rollicking good time, full of adventure, excitement, profanity, lust, good, evil, and so on. And I can’t stop reading it.