This is not a blog post (up top for the Magritte joke!)

This is a long form answer to a Facebook question. My friend Skye was asking for people's thoughts on this article.

And my first thought is, "Damn, but I lead a charmed life!" I am such an optimist, a Pollyanna even, that I tend to walk headfirst into things just assuming they'll work out for me. And then they do.

Every once in a while I read a story, for example, about a woman asked to cover up while breastfeeding, or someone given the stinkeye for it. And I've now breastfeed, many times in public, for over three years (combining two kids). And no one has ever once said anything mean to me! Sometimes I was even gearing for a fight, but none ever came my way. I just acted like I was doing the right thing, smiled my ass off, and I got nothing but support.

That was my experience in rock, too. Before I ever picked up an instrument, back in about 1999, I started going to local shows all the time. And I mean all the time. I often saw a Thursday night, a Friday night, and a Saturday night show and then a Sunday matinee all-ages show. I had bands that I particularly loved and followed, mostly local pop-punk acts. My favorite back then were the Knockoffs, the Secretions, Millhouse, 100 Acre Wood, Jackpot, The Gears, Go National, Magnolia Thunderfinger... the list goes on.

Anyway, it was in the days before blogs, but you could make your own web page if you wanted to. Many were on Angelfire, but mine was through my email provider. I called it "Your Mama's Scene Zine," and to update it, I had to use HTML, and carefully archive my last week's post before adding my new writing to the front page. I updated every week, writing about the shows I'd seen, and assumed my audience was... basically me.

But I started to get comments, a few from people I didn't know. And when I got to, if I remember correctly, my hundredth comment, I held a contest: a pirate eye patch and some other goofy stuff, and I'd give it to the hundredth commenter the next time I saw them at a show.

It ended up being Cary Rodda, who wrote for Sacramento music magazine Alive and Kicking. But someone else had really hoped to win as well -- was it Phil Brann from Her Six Daughters? I can't remember. Anyway, I ended up giving out two pirate packs. And Cary would then see me and say hi at other shows. Not long later, I was at the True Love Cafe, and he introduced me to Kevin Seconds. Here in 2015, I'm a little less impressed by Kevin -- not that he's any less impressive, I just realize he's a normal guy who's out around town a lot. But back then, I was like, Holy Cow, he's a real star! And the conversation went like this:
Cary: Hey, Kevin, this is Kara. She writes the Your Mama page.
Kevin: No kidding?! I love that site! So cool to meet you!

And that's kind of how my foray into music criticism went. I never felt like I faced any backlash or negativity for being a woman. I did once get chastised in Skip's Music by Warren Bishop because he didn't agree with something I'd written about his band, but that was about the extent of it.

About two years later, Althea and Skye and I formed the Gynas, and I learned (-ish) to play bass. We wrote a ton of songs, most of them goofy and not particularly musically accomplished, but we had an awesome time, played a lot of shows, had followers, and sold some t-shirts. I recently got contacted by someone on Facebook who remembered us and wanted some of our music (and it's been like ten years since we broke up). Once in a while, some big strong man would offer to carry my amp for me, and I'd politely decline, and that was the end of that, too. Of course, I never set myself up as some badass musician, so again, I smiled my ass off and was basically supported throughout my musical career. It makes me happy and nostalgic to think about those years.

HOWEVER!! I recognize my own privilege and wouldn't want to present my experiences as universal at all. I recognize that in many ways, women still don't have a place in the musical world and have to work twice as hard for about half the respect.

Final thought: that article mentioned this book, which I read and have here at home if you want to borrow it. It was fantastic.

8 1/2 months

Well, what's the boy doing?

A lot! He still can't quite get his butt off the floor for a proper crawl, but he can MOVE. In fact, the other day I went to set him down on the floor, and like a wind-up toy, he was already moving when I set him down. He isn't like a super-explorer yet, and he still often stays where we put him, but if there's something he wants (usually his sister), he goes for it!

He can cruise. If I put him in his pack and play on one side, he will quickly alternate moving his feet and hands until he's on the other side of it. He can even go around corners. There aren't a lot of surfaces in our house that are the right height for him to cruise on, but he has the skill.

He can pull himself up! He did it on the shower curtain last night. Again, he's sort of struggling to find surfaces he can grip that are at the right height, but he can do it.

He has 5 teeth, and the sixth is a day or two away from coming in.

His vocabulary is growing, although he appears to be the strong, silent type. I'm giving him credit for words if A: they're contextually appropriate and B: they're not in a string of babbling. So although it's funny to say that he's talking about Kofi Annan, I don't really think "ANANANANANA" counts. Now bear in mind, many of these he hasn't repeated, but if it fits both requirements, I'm calling it. So...
Dad, Mom, hi, banana, and yeah.

Banana really surprised me, because I was feeding him banana, and therefore saying it a lot, and all of a sudden he went, "Ba! nana!" 

Just this morning he called out "Mom." I was expecting maybe Mama, but no, it was just "Mom."

And Sweetie is skeptical of this one, but it was in context! I said, "Are you hungry? Do you want some nursies?" And he said, "Yeah!" It was quite clear and contextually appropriate, so I'm counting it.

He loves his toys way more than Z ever did. I got out his bath helicopter the other day and as soon as he saw it he starting flapping his arms and yelling "AYAYANANAJA!!" Presumably, that's good.

He also love balls of all kinds (not so much his own, ya pervs). He'll chase a golf ball, softball, mini-soccer ball, rubber ball... It's a little early to be thinking about his birthday party, but I even think a ball-themed party might be fun. Beach ball cake? Ball pit? See where I'm going with this? Plus I'd get to say "balls" a lot.

So that's pretty much it for now. He's a big, healthy, happy, charming guy. He still basically wakes up every day thinking (as far as we can tell) "Hey! All my favorite people are here! It's going to be a great day!"

This is only a vent... not to worry.

The big child just drives me nuts sometimes.

We were in a restaurant tonight and we were leaving. She decided to go around a whole bunch of different tables instead of taking the direct route to the door with me. I heard, "Mom," but nothing else. The restaurant was very loud*.

As soon as we got to the door, she yelled at me, accusing me of not listening to her. I apologized and said I hadn't been able to hear. I asked what she'd said. Instead of telling me, she verbally excoriated me the entire time it took to walk back to the car, refusing to repeat what she'd said and telling me I was an awful mom for not listening to her.

When we got in the car and had her brother buckled in, she finally told me what she'd said -- that she needed to go to the bathroom.

You see why this drives me insane? When we were still at the door to the restaurant, she could have chosen to repeat herself, but NOOOOOO. She had to be right, and to insult me, so badly that she wasted valuable pee-pee time when she could have just gone right then!

Of course, then we went to the restroom, which was found lacking in a variety of ways. When she washed her hands, she cupped them, filled them with water, then turned to her left and spilled all the water on the floor. Why? I wondered. Well, apparently she was hoping to carry it back to the car, or that it would evaporate before we got there. Or alternatively, to teach the bathroom mess-makers a lesson. Somehow.

Anyway, I just wish the intelligence this kid has would sometimes manifest itself in common sense. Because it sure ain't doing her any favors right now.


*And, to be fair, my hearing is somewhat negatively impacted by multiple ear infections as a kid, plus probably the years of loud rocknroll didn't help. I hear a LOT better if there is no background noise and the person talking to me is facing me. But also, she has lived with me for seven years and should know that by now.

So happy together...

This post is brought to you by procrastination!

Yes, I should be formatting the school's literary journal, sending out thank-you letters for the poetry center, and/or practicing the new songs for the band, but... here I am.

I just want to say that the kids are great. I mean, Z has her issues and maybe always will. And neither one of them is sleeping through the night (so neither of their parents are, either). And Lochlan is a biting, hair-pulling, arm-pinching brute sometimes. But they're awesome.

Well before we had decided to have a second child, part of the decision process for me was thinking about how much I had always wanted a brother or sister, and knowing how close many of the people I love are with their brothers and sisters. My mom loved her brother Allan even though they were very different people. My dad and his brothers still make time for each other every week. Sweetie and his sisters, even though they live far apart, fall into patterns of inside jokes and teasing (and wresting and leg-hair-pulling and commiserating and fits of giggles) the minute they see one another. I wanted Zadie to have that, too.

But I was worried she'd be jealous of the time I'd have to give to a new baby, and I was worried about her... um, high-energy, impulsiveness, and poor decision-making, and thought perhaps she might accidentally maim the baby.

But it's been a dream so far. She's pretty understanding about the time I have to give him. She generally does her best to respect his space and bodily autonomy. And even better, she helps! I mean, not a lot, but like if he's crying in the car, she's great at distracting him and making him laugh. She often wants to hold him -- not for long -- and if we want a sure-fire way to wake her up in the morning without her being too grumpy, we just throw the baby on top of her! There's a moment of "It's too early!" before she switches to, "Oh, hi Buddy!"

And he is absolutely, head-over-heels crazy about her. All I have to do is say "sister" and he starts looking around excitedly. He knows what the school bell means when we're they're to pick her up: sister is coming! He loves pictures of her and recordings of her voice. He is just, no pun intended, gaga over her.

So far, anyway, this whole sibling thing is looking pretty good. And I'm glad there are 6 years between them! I think if she was any younger, it would have been more difficult.