A Few Last-Minute Halloween Costume Ideas

Not sure what to be for Halloween? TIME has some ideas for you, like my personal favorite: Sad Keanu. (Which of course led me to Internetland's photo of Sad Keanu feeding a bunch of stray cats.) I don't know about you people, but I totally see Xander dressing up as this guy.

We're dressing our kids up as Klansmen for Halloween. Naw, I'm just kiddin'. They're going as ghosts. But this is Georgia, so we have to be prepared for people to think the worst.

He's On a Horse

While visiting my parents the other day, I sent Xander a picture of Dinka on a stuffed horse, comme ça:



And received the following text message in response:

Hello, babies. Look at your mom. Now back to me. Now back at your mom. Now BACK to me. Sadly, she isn't me. But if she started throwing you up in the air and catching you different ways, she could play like she's me.

Look down. Back up. Where are you? You're on a playground. With the man your mom could play like. What's in your hand? Give it to me. It's a spoon and two outlet plugs for that wall socket you love. Look again. The outlet plugs are now graham crackers. Anything is possible when your mom plays like a daddy and not a lady. He's on a horse.

Apple Picking

Well...mostly apple eating. The picking is just the gateway activity to the eating. Looking forward to apple pie and apple crumble and apple oatmeal cookies and lots and lots of applesauce.

Mean Face

Something Cool and Totally Un-Hipsterish

Not being a hipster, I only just found out about this when I stumbled across Eric Whitacre on iTunes and decided he merited Googling. What? Regular people use iTunes and Google.

First, read this.

Then, watch this.

Identity Crisis: Am I a Hipster?

My curiosity on this topic was sparked by my idea to dress my daughter up as a Brooklyn hipster for Halloween. In order to make her look like a hipster, I need to know exactly what a hipster is. Then a recent discussion over at Quomodocumque meant I pretty much had to figure this out once and for all so that I'd be prepared if one of my children ever asked me to explain this term.

I never would have considered myself a hipster when I lived in New York, but moving to a smallish town makes just about anyone who isn't wearing sweatpants and college football gear look trendy. I make fun of hipsters, but one of the most striking characteristics of the hipster is that they pretend not to be a hipster. They're just regular people, you see? I am totally just a regular person, which worries me, because maybe that means I really am a hipster. But being a hipster is so uncool, and I secretly want to be cool, so I really don't want to be a hipster. And I especially don't want to be a hipster parent, which is the epitome of lame. As mentioned before, I don't want to be lame. I want to be cool. You see the problem.

Since I don't really want to be a hipster, I decided to prove the theory that I am not a hipster by disproving the theory that I am. So here's a list of the top eleven reasons--because top ten lists are soooo bourgeois--that I am not a hipster.

1. Yes, I do own a Phil & Ted's double "in-line" stroller, but we bought ours at least 5 years after they had become hip. And in our defense we actually have twins.*

2. I do not own a pair of skinny jeans. Yes, I have leggings that are made to look like jeans, but this is not the same thing. Although jeggings are pretty trendy. Damn.

3. I own an iPod. Wait. That's not helping me. Aha! But it's not an iPhone. Surely that counts for something. Or are hipsters carrying some new device I don't know about? Hmmm...

4. I have no idea what Indie band is the latest craze. I'm way too busy listening to jazz to worry about what's fashionable in music.

5. I try to buy only fair trade coffee, but c'mon! That's not hipster. It's just the right thing to do!

6. I buy almost all of my clothing at thrift stores. Wait. This is just getting worse and worse.

7. I don't smoke, with the exception of the very occasional Nat Sherman cigarillo, which I only do when sitting under a tree somewhere by myself outdoors to celebrate the first snow melt, so this hardly counts as smoking.

8. I don't drink PBR. I only drink seasonal microbrews.

9. I almost always wear a scarf, but seriously, this is just because my neck gets cold easily.

10. I'm totally NOT a hipster. Because I'm not.

11. For real, I'm not a hipster.

* I do become genuinely pissed when people say snotty things about our stroller. It happens a lot here, because for one thing people assume everyone here owns a car. And for another, a lot of times people coming at us from the front don't realize we have two children. For instance, I was out walking in the richest, snottiest neighborhood in town the other day when a woman said to me in her most condescending, assholier-than-thou tone, "Wow. That's quite a contraption!" I just said, "Twins require special equipment," and kept walking. I wish I'd said, "We don't own a car. Now get out of my way before I run over your bitchy, judgmental ass with my SUV stroller."

Monkeys, Wrapped

I know I'm biased, but this just strikes me as ridiculously cute. The twins have started asking to wrap up their monkeys in their slings. I think I know what I'm making them for Christmas...

Mixing Signals

I've commented before about how nearly every person we met for awhile would ask if the twins knew sign language. When we said no, they would sometimes go on and on about the numerous benefits of baby sign language, telling us how it worked miracles for their children, stopping just short of saying, "If you really want your kids to get into an Ivy League university, you should really be teaching them sign language." We--especially Xander--actually spent weeks teaching them a handful of useful signs, none of which they picked up. They started talking around that time and had no problem getting their needs across, so we dropped it.

Fast forward a few months to this morning. Xander is in the dining room feeding the kids breakfast. He asks them, "Do you want more?" And they both sign that they want more. Xander pauses and asks again, "Uh, more?" And they sign "more" again.

Hmmm. Okay.

When breakfast is over, the twins come toddling into the living room. Xander says, "Can you show Mama how you ask for more?" They each respond, "Moh!"

Uh huh.

The Great 2010 Halloween Costume Survey

Okay, so we think we're going to take the kids to the local Halloween parade this year, and it just seems fitting that they wear costumes. Also, kids are cute in costumes. The problem is figuring out what should they be? So far our only idea is that Dinka can go as a mathematician, because his favorite word right now is "two!" And Dinke can go as a Brooklyn hipster, because she's pretty much already got the wardrobe. I think we just need to borrow someone's old smart phone, slap in some white ear buds, and she's done. What says hipster to you?

Annnnyway, I'm asking for your suggestions. What should the Dinkees be for Halloween? Keep in mind that I have very, very little time to sew at the moment. Also, these costumes are only required to amuse us. It's not necessary that anyone else "gets" them. So feel free to be creative, even academic, in your suggestions.

Muhrsi bowcoops.

The Fabertids Go A-Pumpkining

They both had fun in their own special ways. Dinke was very, very serious about the pumpkin picking and transporting. Dinka was ecstatic and ran from pumpkin to pumpkin, patting each one on the side by way of greeting. He also spent a fair amount of time checking out the dirt. Or "DUHR!" as he says. Every few feet, "DUHR! DUHR!" Then he tried to eat the pumpkins and squashes, so we took them away. The end.

You and Your Racist Friends

I had this thing happen recently that I didn't expect. Not that I think I should have expected it. I think it's dangerous going into an encounter and automatically expecting another person to be an asshole. Still, I couldn't believe how woefully unprepared I was to deal with it when it happened. It seems hours upon hours of reading and thinking about race hasn't helped much when it comes time to do something. I had a rotten case of l'esprit d'escalier afterward.

The twins and I went to lunch with four ladies, two of whom I already knew and liked and two of whom I was hoping to befriend. Now, I don't pussyfoot around the fact that I'm white and my kids are black. I see no point. It's kinda obvious. And I love our family just the way it is, so why pretend things are any different than they are? I hate it when (white) people do that thing where they whisper the word "black" when describing someone. Say it loud, right?

Anyway, I know I made some joke about my children being black and me being white, but I can't remember exactly what it was. And somehow one of the women used this remark as a jumping off point for something I never saw coming: a discussion of which races are attractive and which are not. She started off by saying, "I don't think I could ever fall in love with a black man." Then my other friend jumped in and went on about how she wasn't attracted to black men, either, and this was followed by some, "I knows," and continued into talk about Argentinians and Filipinos and I don't know what else because my blood started pounding in my ears. I heard someone say, "It's not racist. It's just because of my culture and what I find attractive." At which point I did think to say, "Actually, these thoughts do stem from racism. People may not like to think of it that way, but it all comes from racism, whether people acknowledge it or not." They turned and looked at me, then all turned away in unison and continued on with one of the most shallow conversations I have witnessed since high school. No one acknowledged what I'd said. It was like I hadn't even spoken. Blood boiling, I physically turned around and focused on feeding my kids, trying to decide if I should get up and leave or not. I couldn't think straight.

So what did I do? I didn't do anything. I pretended I wasn't upset at all. Nope. Everything is okay over here! We finished lunch. We went for a walk. We went home. I thought about what I'd heard. I thought about why it bothered me. I talked to Xander about it. I talked to a couple of very good friends. Later, I wrote an email:

The conversation you had at lunch regarding races you consider attractive and unattractive made me extremely uncomfortable. Our family believes very strongly that it is important not to judge people based on superficial traits and racial backgrounds. Obviously we believe this or we would not have chosen to create a multiracial family. We recognize that we are all guilty of discrimination--ALL OF US--and that some of these feelings are deeply ingrained as a result of one's culture or upbringing, but we believe it is important to confront these feelings and work to overcome them rather than make excuses for and indulge them. You may not believe that your attitudes are racist, but they are in fact the very definition of racism. Racism is sneaky like that. It's there even when you think it's not.

Even if you disagree with us or find yourselves incapable of sharing our outlook, I would hope that you would refrain from making such statements around me and my children. My beautiful, black son was sitting right there as you had this discussion about whether or not you could fall in love with black men, among others. Would you have said the same thing if he were older? How did you think that would make me feel as the mother of someone who will inevitably grow up to be a black man? Do you not realize that I love my son with all my heart? That he is part of me regardless of his skin color? Of course, I hope my children will fall in love with people who have open minds. I hope they don't fall in love with people who couldn't love them completely for all that makes them beautiful, including their gorgeous skin. And as long as you are not able to think these topics through before you open your mouth in front of my children, we won't be able to be in relationship with each other either. Because I cannot befriend anyone who cannot appreciate my children for who they are and who they will inevitably become.

I hope you will take the time to think about these things. I've listed a few of my favorite race-related websites below in case you are interested in learning more and understanding better our attitude regarding racism and other forms of discrimination.

Two of the women--the women who were already my friends--wrote very nice apologies. They got it right away and were completely humble and, I think, genuinely interested in examining their thoughts and actions. I intend to continue our relationships. Another woman threw down the "I can't be racist because I have friends who are African American/Latino/Indian/etc." card. And the fourth woman I never heard from at all. She had absolutely nothing to say on the subject, apparently. Without going into identifying details, the situation is somewhat awkward because there are what we shall call "mutual friends" involved. We will see all of these people again, probably more than once, and there's little to be done about it.

This whole thing has made me realize that even though I have spent a lot of time looking at the big picture of race and racism, I have not spent nearly enough time thinking about how to handle specific incidents. I get so flustered in the moment that I've decided what I need to do is memorize a handful of responses in case something like this happens again. Because even though I don't want to go out into the world every day expecting people to behave badly, I want to be prepared when it happens. I want to be able to respond in the moment, as calmly and as confidently as possible.

I'm sure I'll revisit this again sometime soon. For the moment, I guess I just needed to share.

On National Coming Out Day: It Gets Better

Now that I'm no longer waiting for the (anti-gay) Ethiopian government to finalize my adoption, I can finally come out of the Internet closet. I'm a straight ally! I love gay people! I think they should receive equal treatment in ALL things! The discrimination taking place in my country is ridiculous, and so are the arguments used to justify the discrimination. Never mind the appalling cases of bullying and harassment that continually pop up in the news. And I think anyone who is not able to acknowledge that needs to examine the bigotry that resides in their hearts. I'm not saying that to be mean or make people defensive. I'm saying that because I think we all have prejudices that need to be examined, and unfortunately this is a common one. But I know plenty of people who have turned their thinking around and overcome their fears. It's possible.

Not sure where to start? You can start by checking out Dan Savage's It Gets Better Project:

I Have a New Hobby

It's trapeze, and it's the best. I'm getting muscles, some of which I haven't seen since high school and others that are entirely new. Plus swinging and flipping and hanging and all that stuff is loads of fun.





Okay, except there are a few things I should mention. One, I can't do any of that stuff, yet, nor do I expect to be able to. I imagine if I keep taking lessons I might one day achieve something like this:



And two, these videos make all trapeze look kinda angsty and/or sexy and/or dramatic. But it doesn't have to be like that. It can be lighthearted.



I look a lot like that last one, actually, only I'm not doing it on purpose.

Trees!


The boy likes them. A lot. "Tree!" and "dog!" and "car!" are the current most-used words and all must be said at top volume. Just behind these are "toy!" and "ball!" and "keys!" and "teeth!"

But the most favorite? The one he says with more joy than any of the others? "TWOOOOO!" As in, "What's one plus one?" "TWOOOOOO!!!!!"

I think we may have a little mathematician on our hands.