cranky pixels

I have been inexcusably un-updatey, and I would feel bad about it if I wasn’t already using every ounce of emotional energy on not curling up on the floor fetal-style and chanting “I AM NOT HERE.” And here! Here is an update! Because apparently my Vox blog bores me, so I am regaling you, my faithful readers, with tales of academic woe. You can thank me later.

So what’s the deal with JourneyEd? I will tell you, in case you have no idea what I’m talking about: they are an academic reseller and claim to be the end-all be-all of student purchasing. Fair enough. I figured I’d purchase Lightroom from them, seeing as I need it (for school, even) and I do like my academic discounts. Given that I am roughly $20K in debt (and counting!) to AiO, it seems only fair that I should at least get a break on software.

So on the 9th I placed an order for Lightroom. JourneyEd, of course, needed academic verification. I sent it. They said “We need something on school letterhead.” I said “Okay,” got student support to send something, passed it along…and waited. Nothing. Sent a follow-up e-mail. Nothing. Re-sent my verification, along with a note saying “Please acknowledge that this is correct.” Nothing. My order in their system continued to say “On Hold.”

So last Monday I called their 800 number, and the rep said “Oh, yeah, we’re not going to be able to ship that until Friday.” I said “So you have everything you need from me and it will ship Friday?” He said yes, the delay had to do with their end, I had nothing to worry about.

Did it ship Friday? It did not.

So we’re on Day 14 of my “Expected ship date: April 9″ and the extra $20 I assigned to two-day priority shipping, and boy, am I pissed. This Monday I sent an angry e-mail to customer service, requesting that my order be cancelled. “I needed this product weeks ago; I am canceling my order with JourneyEd, since apparently you do not value my business, and paying full price elsewhere,” I said. “Notify me when the cancellation is complete.”

No response. I checked today, and guess what? Still “On Hold.” So I called, got customer service on the phone, verified that no, the order was not cancelled. Yes, I would like to cancel it now, thanks.

Fine, I’ll pay full price at Adobe. It would be worth it if I actually get the product.

Except, behold! Adobe offers education discounts! I can order directly from Adobe and still pay the same! O, frabjous day.

I just don’t get why JourneyEd doesn’t acknowledge or respond to e-mails. They require that things like proof of enrollment be e-mailed or faxed, yet they do not respond in kind. Is that good customer service?

Of course, I just got an e-mail confirming my order cancellation (after speaking to a rep on the phone). Under “Reason” she wrote “Doesn’t want product.” Ha! Also: screw you, JourneyEd.

technorati tags:journeyed, software, school

I took Happy Fun Baby to his first Itsy Bitsy Tots yoga class on Wednesday. Itsy Bitsy Yoga, in case you don’t know, is yoga for babies: interactive classes in which babies are encouraged to try out various poses, the names of which are chanted in a singsong voice by the parents and instructor, in order to sort of imprint the idea of yoga on the child’s brain and form a foundation for later practice.

Yes, crunchy granola parenting, here I come. I’ve already got the shoes, right?

The class was somewhat less dynamic than I’d hoped. Happy Fun Baby is a really active kid, and the gentle, non-demanding tone of the class didn’t hold his attention for very long. Er – at all. He did think it was pretty cool to run around with the other kids, though. I thought maybe there would be a bit more grown-up yoga along with the baby-centric stuff, but no, we didn’t even really get to stretch. That was disappointing.

The instructor clearly expected the parents (and by “parents” I really mean “moms,” because although the class description was careful to use inclusive and non-gendered language, it was all mamas who showed up) to bond instantly over their shared desires to instill their offspring with inner peace, but we all just sort of milled around trying to corral our children and only spoke when asked questions. Pretty reasonable, as far as I’m concerned, but the instructor seemed a bit at a loss as to why we were not all suddenly BFF – perhaps because our lack of interaction underscored the fact that this was less a thrilling yogic expedition and more a glorified play-date.

We’re signed up for three more classes in the series, and part of me sort of wants to bow out. I mean, whatever, it’s an excuse to get out of the house, right? But it’s an hour and a half out there and an hour and a half back, all for a one-hour class that isn’t particularly stimulating. Is a three-hour round-trip reasonable? I ask you, internets: would you go to so much effort? Or would you just sleep in?

I do sort of wonder if taking all four classes will help Happy Fun Baby find some balance, though. He’s such a physical kid that classes of some sort seem like a good idea. I suspect that he needs something a little more high-energy, but he’s too little for almost everything that comes to mind. What’s out there for a 16-month-old that isn’t Music Together or Itsy Bitsy Yoga?

technorati tags:itsy bitsy yoga

Yes, friends, that is the face of the baby who refuses to nap. A cute face, though somewhat more full of motion than his mama would like. (Also: floor clothes! His new favorite thing is emptying his dresser drawers of clothing and filling them with things like crayons and shoes. Getting dressed in the morning = challenging.) I do not understand the Nap Strike. If I were offered the chance to nap every day, would I not take it? That is clearly rhetorical, and I will spare you my enthusiastic HELL YES. For the sake of the children.

This morning began on an inauspicious note: after dressing the child in what can only be described as the Cutest Freaking Outfit Ever (it involved a Nightmare Before Christmas hoodie, and you have not seen cute until you have seen my kid working the Burton duds) we went downstairs to acquire foot coverings, at which time Happy Fun Baby found a full cup of water that someone had left in his reach. You know where this is going. I did consider just cramming his soggy feet into his skater shoes and fleeing the scene, but that only lasted as long as it took me to discover that his whole outfit was soaked. Sigh.

Then, of course (of course) we got to the office to find that the internet was not so much with the connecting. Phone call to ISP revealed, eventually, that the property management team had apparently decided to re-do the roof. Where the antenna is located. Without telling anyone. So strike two, and I had to conduct my client meeting with a series of gestures and a winning smile instead of an online walk-through. Oh, and did I mention that my child took the opportunity to fill his diaper mere moments before the client arrived? Welcome to my office; this is a scent I like to call Eau de Excrement. Would you like to give me some money?

So now we are home, where there is internet, and also a place where the baby could quite reasonably nap, were he the napping sort. There was an incident involving peanut butter a little bit earlier, but I will spare you all the details. Mr. No-Nap is now entertaining himself by throwing things under the baby gate at the top of the stairs. Apparently they make an entertaining show of tumbling ever downward. Hooray!

Someone here needs a nap, anyway. It might not be the baby.

technorati tags:baby who will not nap, stairs, excrement, spill

I just “ran” a half a mile. I use the word “ran” loosely, since my actual activity resembled nothing so much as a half-block at a time of desperate lumbering followed by a half-block of staggering and wheezing, repeated eight times, all while pushing a jogging stroller containing one very happy toddler. (The baby loves the jogging stroller. He sits in it like a king on a throne, chirping contentedly and waving his arms around while poor mama tries to jog.) I’d blame the wheezing on the fact that I am so very out of shape except for the fact that I am now coughing up some exciting substances that seem to originate in my lung-area. It’s possible that I am a wee bit under the weather. I admit nothing.

(You’ve got to love the fact that my workout abruptly drops off at the end, as though I gave up and simply crawled the rest of the way from the sidewalk to the door. Which isn’t so far from the truth.)

The point is, I have actually taken a jog with the Nike+iPod thinger, and it is, in fact, all that. You turn it on and a friendly voice tells you that you’d better start running, fool, because your workout has begun. And off I went, all fit and healthy-like, wishing I had procured a clever armband-type device so that I didn’t have to tuck my Nano into my bra. The Nano, it does not like to hang out in the bra. It was valiantly tolerant, though. Love the lovely Nano.

Back to the Nike+ thinger. It wants to know what my “Power Song” is. My Power Song! I haven’t thought about that since the days of Ally McBeal! (First season, shut up. It was good.) I do not know what my Power Song is, but I am now desperate to find out.

To that end I’m copying my iTunes from my office computer to the home computer using Senuti. I’ve got to say, Senuti kicks ass. I no longer feel like I’m being treated like a criminal for wanting to copy my own music from one iTunes library to another. Awesome. Plus, Power Song! I feel certain there is a Power Song to be had here somewhere.

In the meantime, I’m going to seek out an expectorant. Cheers.

technorati tags:nike+ipod, workout, fitness, senuti, itunes

Am 3/4 of the way into Real Boys by William Pollack, and the more I read the more I want to gouge my eyes out. Yes, clearly there is a gender bias in modern society. Yes, it’s ridiculous to constrain our sons by insisting they do not wear pink and labeling anything that isn’t dripping with testosterone as “effeminate.” Yes, I realize I am part of the problem, what with my use of “testosterone” in the pejorative just now. Fine.

The thing I can’t swallow, however, is this idea that all of these problems are exclusive to boys. Several times in the book Pollack makes statements like “this would never happen to a girl” while I think um, yes it would. Fathers use the word “disgust” more often in regard to their sons? Apparently no one in my family got that memo. Girls play cooperatively on the playground? Wow, what schools did he visit?

I get that I might have a bit of a skewed perspective, given that my father raised me, essentially, as a sort of revenge for his own perceived gender discrimination. Where my moody pre-teen sulks were mocked mercilessly, my brother’s adolescent tantrums were lovingly tolerated to the mantra of “It’s hard to be a boy.” This is the nicest thing I am going to say about my father, so make a note of it, if you’re the note-making type.

Pollack also has some interesting direct quotes, and by “interesting” I mean “I have never in my life met anyone who spoke like that.” There’s a section in the beginning about a kindergarten class in which the director, having a conversation with a new teacher about the different levels of separation anxiety for boys and girls, is quoted as saying “Boys, however, have to be more independent or their peers will call them sissies and make fun of them. It’s our job to help boys deal with this, especially if their mothers haven’t done it themselves.” Their peers? Seriously?

I don’t have a problem with a little creative latitude, but let’s not call something a quote if it’s a paraphrase, and while we’re at it, let’s not cite studies by saying “a recent study proved…” while providing no footnote or direct citation giving the reader an idea of exactly what study we’re discussing. It must be true – someone did a study! Proof is for losers.

I grew up a girl (I know! You’re shocked!) so part of me wondered if my reaction was just more gender stereotyping. I asked Not So to read a bit and tell me what he thought. His reaction? “That guy is a douche.” Well. There you have it.

But maybe that’s just the Boy Code talking.

technorati tags:real boys, william pollack, gender stereotypes