Okay, I’m excited, because on Tuesday the second book in my Seattle Steam series Tempting Adam came out!

I wanted to share with my NAS‘ers and give you a taste at a spicier (okay, still on the somewhat tame side) excerpt that hasn’t really made rounds.

The man she wants is the one she must deceive.

Seattle Steam Book 2

Christy Wallace may be a respectable Seattle Spanish teacher, but she’s got a sultry side. She lets it come out to play during the summer, when she moonlights as a Salsa dancing instructor.
Sexy, cowboy Adam wants more time with her than just a fleeting cup of coffee, but she makes it clear that if he wants her, he’ll have to sign up for dance class. Amazingly enough, he does. And Christy finds herself falling for a charming country hick with hands as fast as his feet.

Adam’s no hick, though. He’s the owner of Adam’s Apples, the fastest-growing cider business in eastern Washington. To his own surprise, one night with her has him thinking in terms of forever. That is, until he walks into a restaurant for a family lunch—and finds Christy on the arm of his brother.

Is there a logical explanation? Or is something rotten in Seattle?

Spicier Excerpt:

“Take off your heels,” he commanded softly.

She blinked. “My heels?”

“Please.”

Christy gave him a quick glance, before leaning forward to unfasten the black stilettos. When his hand moved in a light caress down her back, her breath locked in her throat. She kicked off the shoes and raised an eyebrow at him questioningly.

Without responding, he reached down and lifted one of her legs, urging her to sit sideways on the couch so that both of her feet could rest on his lap.

Oh, no, she groaned inwardly. Of course. The perfect man, huh? Here it was, the one big flaw. He had a foot fetish. If he even tried to suck her toes—

“I’m assuming your feet are sore from dancing in those heels all night.” He began using his thumbs to massage over the arch of her foot.

“Oh…” The sensation was orgasmic. “You assumed right.”

Not a foot-fetish man, just a foot-massaging god! Christy closed her eyes and moaned gratefully as he continued to massage both of her feet.

His fingers slid between her toes and delicious shivers rippled up her spine. He must have realized her reaction, because he looked up from her feet and gave her a slow smile.

“Am I doing this okay?”

“More than okay,” she confessed and leaned back against the arm of the futon.

As she sat there, pampered and increasingly aroused, she had a sudden thought. She was in a skirt and her legs were in his lap. What exactly could Adam see? Maybe not enough.

Feeling deliciously wicked, she let her knees fall open and waited for his response.

* * *

Adam swallowed hard, unable to turn his gaze away from the incredible view she’d just given him. Under the black dress, creamy white thighs now lay open with a lacy strip of red between them. Did she realize what she’d just done by changing position?

He jerked his glance up into her face. Oh, yes. Christy knew exactly what she was doing. Well then, game on.

He worked his massage up towards her calf muscles, letting his fingers trail over the sensitive skin behind her knee. She laughed softly and jerked away. There was one ticklish spot revealed.

Hmm. Time to adjust his position. Adam lifted her legs off his lap and came to sit closer to her, folding her knees so her legs were an inverted “V” on the couch. Her dress shifted higher and was nearly at the top of her thighs. He could now see that the red scrap of lace was a tiny thong that left little to the imagination. Blood rushed to his cock and he groaned inwardly.

Adam waited to see if she’d fix the dress, pull it back down, but she made no move towards modesty. Encouraged, he placed his hands just above her knees, pushing them apart. Then he trailed his fingers lightly up and down the tops of her thighs. Her body trembled under the caress.

Needing no further invitation, he angled himself so that he was almost lying between her legs, and then leaned down to kiss her. Her eyes, which had been glazed with arousal, drifted shut as his mouth closed over hers.

 

I try to balance gender neutral clothing with the ‘girly’ stuff my daughter loves (pink, purple, princess, fairies, etc) and people were SCANDALIZED that I put nightgowns and tights on my baby boy *eyeroll* despite the fact that they were more practical than sleepers or socks that he flung across the room within seconds of donning. She wears hand-me-downs from her brothers… and he STILL wears tights in the winter (the 14 year old boy now prefers to freeze LOL).

My PERSONAL beef with children’s clothes is this rash of ‘camouflage’ patterns. Ugh. They are children, they should NOT be wearing camo… especially the more ‘authentic-looking’ camo. I live in an area where we are fortunate to have a good amount of nature still with us. A child in a camo-printed jacket that gets lost in the park or woods here virtually vanishes. Bad. Plan.

I have completely different issues with the pink and baby blue ‘camouflage’ you see everywhere.

Why, oh why, are we accepting this as a viable choice for our children and infants??

 

I could have written the breastfeeding stuff here myself. The cracked nipples, the bleeding, the razor-blade feeling. I made it two weeks, then it all got a whole lot worse with mastitis! So I pumped for another week to supplement the formula milk before giving up entirely. I think more of us have this story than the media and midwives would have us believe.


 

A conversation that was started when Arwyn wrote about sexism in children’s literature, and continued here and here (and also on twitter and by email – if you’re not twittering – why not?) has had me thinking for weeks now.

No matter what we say to our pre-schoolers, they’re going to encounter the mainstream at some point, whether that’s through television, friends, school, nursery…

The most privileged members of society are also usually the most mainstream.

How do we counter that?

And what if their home environment matches up with what they see on television, in magazines, in books? My son will grow up child to a white, heterosexual, cisgendered, married, able-bodied couple. Will he ever even think to question his priviledge? Will my voice disappear in the baying of the other voices telling him exactly what is “normal” and what is “other”?

Looking at the darling of UK pre-school children’s programming, CBeebies, the majority of the presenters are overwhelmingly white (there was a very brief couple of days where Sid and Skye were the main presenters but this ended far too quickly). And in the programmes themselves, the vast majority are headed up by men. A quick tally count (off the top of my head – but I am a bit of an expert!) reels off 18 male-fronted shows, and three female-fronted ones.

Of course there are some shows, such as Charlie and Lola, where arguably the character that is given the most air time is the female one, or Balamory and Me Too, where the starting character is a woman (interestingly enough, in both cases, a Nursery Teacher), but then we’d have to start counting programmes like In the Night Garden, where Iggle Piggle is the starting and ending character, as male dominated.

I can’t think of a single programme on CBeebies where the central character is not able-bodied. And as for GLBT characters? Whilst I do appreciate that programming for pre-schoolers tends not to explore issues around relationships, would it really be that much of a leap of imagination for, say, one of the children in Charlie and Lola, for example, to have two Dads, just as an “aside”? I’m not entirely sure how one would “depict” a trans person as opposed to a cis-gendered person, in cartoon or puppet format, but at least as a tiny starter would it really be too difficult to have a young boy that wears dresses, as in this book? (I appreciate that in itself comes with some very negative connotations, so any suggestions welcome.)

I know there was a big hoo ha (or should that be ha-hoo?) over ten years ago now with the arrival of the Teletubbies and Tinky Winky, the big purple one with the handbag and occasionally tutu, and the “ZOMG our kids will be turned gay!!!” reaction that ensued, especially in the more right winged parts of the US. But as I say, that was over ten years ago now. Surely we’ve moved on by now. If we can have an openly bisexual character in older children’s TV programming in the form of Captain Jack Harkness, surely we can tweak a few things in CBeebies?

Otherwise I might even have to start turning off the television.

In part one of We are All Alloparents, I looked at why alloparenting was necessary, and in part two, why a world without alloparenting is bad for everyone.

I now want to look at what people who want to help, who want to stick it to the kyriarchy by modelling “how not to abuse privilege” to the next generation, can actually do, on a real, day-to-day level.

But I can’t speak for all parents, obviously. And I certainly can’t speak for children. You know; privileged person speaking on behalf of oppressed group, that doesn’t go down so well. I suppose it is slightly different than other privilege/oppression dichotomy in that I was once a child myself. But it was a long time ago, and as someone who has had many long years of adult privilege, I can’t completely trust myself to put myself back into that way of thinking.

So I’m going to keep this short. A few things I’d like to see, and then turn it over to you. As a parent, how could your life be improved by other alloparents? What would you like?

Here’s my two pence worth:

Understand basic child behaviour. “Tantrums” (or the less demonising “episodes” or “meltdowns”, as I’ve heard them called) are normal. They’re not naughty behaviour, and they don’t need to be dealt with or the child taught a lesson. They’re often a response to over stimulation, or not yet having the emotional ability to cope with disappointment. If you see a child having a tantrum, don’t tut or glare. If anything, it’s this that causes the frazzled parent to feel obliged to discipline, harshy, their child. A sympathetic smile goes a very long way. An offer of help – “do you need a hand?” – even longer. It can be hard to intervene if the parent’s already at the point of shouting.  But even there, walking on by and not staring is better than looking and making the parent feel even more uncomfortable. Meltdowns are normal. High pitched laughing and screaming is normal. Not wanting to be touched or patted on the head is normal. And for heaven’s sake, don’t take it as an insult if a child hides behind Mum when you approach. Saying “aw, is she/he shy?” is just irritating. How’s a mother meant to say “no, s/he’s not shy. Just natural healthy weariness at a stranger approaching”.

Offer to help with non-baby stuff. A new mother often has no shortage of friends and relatives who want to “help” with the baby (carry it, coo over it, cuddle it) but this leaves her, often worn out and exhausted from the birth, doing the drudge work; cooking, cleaning, tidying, washing – while others can claim they were helping. Tidying up, at the very least after yourself after a visit, is a start. Wash the dishes you’ve used. While you’re at the sink, why not wash a few more? Don’t expect to be waited on. You know where the kettle is. Why not bring your own food? A lot of this applies even after the child is out of babyhood. Offering to help with the child is good, don’t get me wrong; but offering to help with housework might be even better. And if you’re offering to take the baby for a bit so a mother can get some more sleep… why not do a quick whizz round the house picking up toys off the floor while you’re doing it? Besides, the government in the UK seems determined to stop informal babysitting arrangements (thanks, UK government, for legislating against alloparenting) so this might be the only way you can go anyway!

There are certain types of “help” that are never good alloparenting. I once had a man think I needed “help” to pull my dress down at the back after putting Bertie up in the sling had made my dress ride up at the back (which I knew, and which I was about to rectify). His help consisted of pulling down my dress without my permission, and in the process, ripping it. Also, I don’t need directing to a “private room” to breastfeed in. No, I’d not feel more comfortable there. Especially not if it’s the disabled toilet, as it often turns out to be. If I’ve chosen to sit down and nurse my child there… I’ve done it because that’s where I want to do it.

Over to you. How could good alloparents make your life easier?