Juliet Martinez

Fri, Apr 22 2005

The band Joel's band, Sones de Mexico, was featured in the New Orleans Times-Picayune today. Read all about it!
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Tue, Apr 19 2005

The Village, People

I just came back from a meeting of the moms. My friend Angie called together a bunch of La Leche Leaguers from her years as a LLL leader and posed this question: How does a modern, independent, educated woman navigate the transition to full-time mom (and often full-time homemaker)?

These are suburban moms, most of them white, mostly churchgoers. Their kids range in age from 10 weeks to 9 years. My friend Jacqueline, who introduced me to Angie and the rest of the group, is the only Latina. I'm not sure but I could be the only non-Christian. Some of them homeschool, some practice natural family planning, but the tone of this group is mellow. Nobody's pushing anything.

We sat on the deck in the April sun and everyone talked about what was and wasn't working for them. We talked about the fear and the joy of losing themselves in parenting; the daily struggle to carve out a few minutes to write, exercise or pray for endurance and sanity; the loss of an identity previously shaped by a paid career.

We talked about having sensitive kids, kids with diagnosable disorders and ones who just push us to our limits. Jacqueline said, "It's not that God doesn't give you more than you can handle. He doesn't give you more than He can handle." A few moms smiled, a few laughed as though to keep from crying.

Coming home, I thought about what we said and didn't say about the challenges of full-time, hands-on parenting. Angie had commented on the importance of a support system, but nobody picked up the thread.

But the the more I think about it, the more I realize that a support system is the key: raising a child does take a village, as overused as that expression might be. In a village it doesn't matter if the child's temperament is radically different from it's mom's because old uncle Henry's around and they get along like gangbusters. And mom isn't solely responsible for all domestic duties on top of breastfeeding and otherwise caring for the baby: traditionally, grandmas, aunts, sisters and nieces are doing the work together while playing "pass the baby."

Furthermore, on the scale of the village a lot of food can be grown locally and without so many pesticides, so mothers don't have to choose between health and thrift. Local government is not hindered by the sheer inertia of large cities, so it can truly respond to the needs of the community. I can think of a dozen other reasons that village living is better for moms and kids.

So here's an idea, lobbed out into the universe, hanging in midair, waiting to be caught. Maybe feminism is ready for a fourth wave. And having won the right to vote (1st wave), equal civil rights (2nd wave), the freedom to choose whether to stay home with your kids (3rd wave), maybe the next big feminist issue is the reintegration of motherhood into society.

Let's embrace and then think beyond on-site daycare; let's welcome and then make obsolete the milk-pumping room. Let's talk about neighborhood-based parenting support services like mother's helpers; and subsidized grocery delivery and house cleaning for parents of sick kids; tax breaks for extended families who live in the same zip code. Let's bring back the cottage industry: Not just a few thousand Ebay vendors, but millions of work-at-home moms getting good money for handmade clothes, textiles, jewelry.

And of course, a stipend for all stay-at-home parents.

All of this is possible. But people need to believe in it before it can happen. Do you believe?
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Sat, Apr 16 2005

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

Living in the U.S. can be a roller coaster ride. You could win the lottery and become super wealthy. You could be in a catastrophic car accident and, go bankrupt and become homeless. Someone new comes to town and becomes your best friend. Or you find out your friends are moving away.

This country is full of opportunities and those opportunities vary widely from place to place. So you can go from being a management consultant to being an organic farmer, but it might require you to relocate. That's why my dear friend Lucie, her hubby Art and their baby Marie are moving to Oregon. That's their dream: to have an organic farm, and Oregon is where that's most likely to happen.

Art and Lucie moved here from London when Lucie was in her third trimester of pregnancy. They found an apartment and a midwife and birthed Marie at home before they even had any diapers on hand. Lucie soon discovered elimination communication and offered to host the local diaper free baby meeting. That's how we met, and we've been friends ever since.

Lucie and I have spent a lot of time cheering each other up when our sensitive babies had us doubting ourselves as mothers. We've spent a lot of time cheering each other on when we found new ways to take care of ourselves, our babies or the business of life.

When Joel was out of town and the window on our van got smashed, Lucie and Marie took two trains and a bus to my house - in 20-degree weather - so they could stay with Paula while I drove the car to park it in a friend's garage. I call Lucie at least every couple of days, just to touch base. I consider her an important part of my support system, and I think she feels the same about me.

Another big part of my support system is my neighbor Marylu - it was her garage where I stored the windowless van. Her husband Julio has been one of Joel's close friends for years, so when he married smart, funny and big-hearted Marylu, I was thrilled. Living near them for the last year and a half has been like a little utopian dream.

Marylu came over with a plant, care packages, dinners and jokes when I was on bedrest during my pregnancy. How many winter days did Paula and I survive by trudging four blocks through the snow to visit Marylu and play with her kids, Julio and Laila and now little 6-month-old Neenah. They have been my lifeline.

But life keeps changing. True to form, Julio and Marylu have decided to move to California by the end of summer. Marylu will work in PR for her brother's company, and Julio, a transmission rebuilder, is optimistic that he'll find more financial security than he now has running his dad's garage.

I'm happy for Julio and Marylu, and Art and Lucie, and the new opportunities they will have. But I'll sure miss them.

So now Joel and I are talking about moving out near my sister. He's even applying for an ESL job at my niece Ashley's school. If he gets it, we'll sell the house and move this summer. If not, we plan to sell and move next summer.

And we have dreams of our own for this move. We're going to look for someplace where we can raise chickens and a couple of goats - maybe in the spring we can put a sign out: KIDS FOR SALE. Well, we're thinking more of milk, cheese and eggs than anything else, but still, it's something I've wanted since I was prepubescent. Now it's time to try making it happen.
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Wed, Apr 13 2005

Woo-hoo, woo-hoo-hoo!

Joel will be dancing around and yodeling his head off when he comes home this evening. His new Al Foster Hip Gig Sr. has arrived. This is his second major equipment upgrade in as many years. Last year he bought Yamaha Oak Customs, which will now go on sale on Ebay.

The Oak Customs aren't the only ones going on sale. See, counting the new Hip Gig that is boxed up by our front door, Joel now has six drumsets. Yes, six. He once promised me that he wouldn't go over three, but those days are long gone.

Here's how we came to acquire a little family of drumsets, each with its own name and history.

First was the set that Joel's oldest brother Jose pieced together at least 20 years ago. At some point it passed to Joel's brother Javier, and later to Joel. By the time Joel and I got married, this hodgepodge of different brands of black drum had been, em, aggressively modified. They had been drilled into in many locations and had the life pounded out of them over the years in Martinez brother bands with names like Glass Onion, Onit (say own-it) and Caliente. In what would be his first appeal for major funds for a drum project, Joel pooled our student loan checks and bought a kit to re-cover the drums (and their holes) in a new color - blue marine pearl, he said it matches my eyes (blush) - give them new drum heads and something called Rims Mounts that I still only sort of understand. The Pretty Blue drumset was born.

Pretty Blue became Joel's workhorse when he was playing in his brother George's old school Latin rock band, Caliente. It saw more than its share of smokey dive bars on Chicago's south and southwest sides. Now that his gigs are more high-class, he doesn't take Pretty Blue out as often, but he'll never get rid of it - it's a family heirloom. Joel says now it belongs to Paula.

Next came Blue Sparkle. If memory serves, Joel got this made-in-Japan 70's special in a trade with a friend from the old neighborhood. It's a no-name replica of a really good kit from a decade earlier. This jazz-sized kit is lightweight and it looks good if you don't look too closely. But the kicker? It sounds fantastic. This kit paid for itself over and over again in the orchestra pits of musicals all over the Chicago area. Blue Sparkle was easy to transport, too cheap to worry about leaving somewhere overnight, and best of all, it always delivered great sound. It's the little drumset that could.

After a couple of years at VanderCook College of Music, Joel did some work for the Remo drum company at VCM's annual Midwest Band Festival. Instead of cash payment for his work - something we could use for Christmas presents or even FOOD - Joel opted to be paid in merchandise. He chose a little black Legero kit made of drums about half as deep as you'd think they should be. It's great for rehearsals and the very occasional small-venue gig. Lately the only trips Little Black makes are to the living room of the artistic director of Joel's band for those loathsome Saturday rehearsals. Wait, did I say loathsome? I meant lively. Only those who miss yet another day with their spouses loathe the Saturday rehearsals.

The fourth kit to join our little drum family - which at the time occupied one fourth of our tiny four-room apartment - was a gift from Joel's drum teacher, Kevin Lepper. It is an aged white marine pearl WFL drumset from the 60's. It is in need of restoration. Most of the hardware is missing, the covering is yellowed from too many gigs in smokey bars and too many years in a musty basement. It needs antique hardware and noxious chemical magic to bring back its past glory. This drumset is to Joel what a beat-up old Impala would be to a classic car enthusiast, and that's leaving out the part about it being a gift from an honored teacher. Joel could be flat broke and on death's doorstep, but he would never ever sell this kit. It is known simply as White.

The youngest in our little drum family is the Oak Customs, which Joel thought would be perfect for Sones de Mexico. They are great drums but they just didn't turn out to do what he wanted them to do with this band. Oh well. Even so, buying the Oak Customs represented a commitment to Joel's career as a professional musician: a professional-quality set for a professional drummer. Even though our little family of drums was already bigger than I thought was necessary, buying the Oak Customs was something I pushed for. Joel was taking a big step forward and needed the right equipment for the job. Thank you, Oak Customs, for what you meant to us. Soon you'll go to a new home and a new drummer will make beautiful, or awful, music on you.

After a lot of deliberation we also decided to sell Blue Sparkle. It will be a sad day when we send it off to a new owner, but really, it's time we downsized our drum inventory a little. Or maybe we should call it family planning.
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