Monthly Archives: March 2008

It came from outerspace… I’m sure of it.

Of all that may be supernatural, UFOs rattle my cage the most. And, as it turns out, there may have been one seen in my home town a few weeks ago. My husband told me about the sighting this past Friday night. It was ‘Earth Hour” and, as responsible environmental citizens, my husband and I spent the time sitting out on our porch, with candles, some wine, grilling our dinner and checking out the stars. We had been thinking back about seeing a space shuttle night launch from our porch, when he mentioned that his players had seen a video posted on YouTube of a UFO witnessed here in our home town.  

WHAT!!!  

That was all it took. I raced off to the computer (it was actually past earth hour by this point so felt justified to use electricity… but I still kept the lights off) and immediately pulled up YouTube. And there it was. Someone commented that it might be a hot air balloon, a sight that is very common in our area. But my mind raced: Why fly at night? And why can’t we see the balloon’s flame at its center? Another post claims it is a new sort of plane being tested at a nearby Air Force base. But finally, a post agrees that it is a U.F.O. and one was in fact seen in Brazil at the exact same time. Oh terrific. 

Deep in thought, I padded back out to our dark porch and took a healthy gulp of my wine. You must understand that ghosts, psychic phenomenon, and most paranormal occurrences don’t really frighten me. (I actually 100% believe in their existence and embrace all bumps in the night – but I will save my thoughts on that for another post.) U.F.O.s, on the other hand, just give me a legitimate case of the heebie jeebies. 

Here’s the thing about U.F.O.s. Their possibility represents the overwhelming prospect of the “unknown” in its truest form. The scientist in me gets right to the facts. If this universe is really so enormous and infinite, even a novice statistician (that would be me) can work out that it is very unlikely we are the only living beings in existence.  My husband argued that while there may be life, it may also be in a much simpler form. Who says? That may be true in some cases but we can not assume we are the most advanced beings out there. Now the philosophical and spiritual guru in me steps forward (am attaching the white beard, and throwing on ancient looking robes)… Who are we to say what, who, or where we are in the universal context of things? The only living beings? The most advanced? Unlikely. Your faith tells you God made us in his image. Well, then, he/she is quite brilliant, correct? Who’s to say there aren’t a whole slew of his/her images all over this universe? Now stay with me here, have you ever seen the movie Men in Black? One scene depicts an entire community of aliens living in a forgotten locker in Penn Station – that was their reality, their universe, and they had no concept of what lay outside of that locker. I am humble enough to accept that we know very little about who we are in the grand scheme of this universe. We are, in fact, living in that locker arrogantly rationalizing our feeble ideas of science to each other, while extraterrestrial commuters race by and the Amtrak of the cosmos has stopped at track 9, possibly right outside our door!!! 

Deep breaths. 

I must keep in mind that Hollywood has done a terrific job of scaring the bejesus out of me. Have you seen Independence Day? While I do feel it is ripe with that well known bit of American “we’ll blow the brains out anything unfamiliar if it dares step on our soil” agenda, (note: that movie was filmed before 9/11, interesting food for thought), the image of those space ships darkening the morning sky is unsettling to say the least. The movie War of the Worlds was horrendous to watch, and also a story that goes back for quite a few decades now. The list goes on: Aliens (I, II, III), Fire in the Sky, Mars Attacks!, Taken… at least E.T. and Men in Black involve some nice aliens.  Close Encounters of the Third Kind is an excellent U.F.O. movie but also does quite a bit of alien fear mongering until we get to its conclusion (which is secretly my hope for how such an alien/human meeting would occur… and there would be peace throughout our cosmos). 

Back to the point. I have forgotten to mention that I have also seen a U.F.O. for myself. I know I know, I should turn the lights back on and stop watching all those movies. Before I do, I will just tell you what I saw and leave it at that. 

I was living at a boarding school in Swaziland at the time – the school was located up on a hill and had a terrific view of country’s capital Mbabane, nestled in a small valley to our south. A friend and I were walking across the soccer field at night on our way to an art class. At the time, Swaziland had no evening air traffic. The one airport only landed its one jet once a week during the day – thanks to its less than advanced air traffic controlling capabilities. So when we saw something with a light far in the distance descending in the sky, it took us by surprise. We watched it for awhile, trying to explain what it might be. Suddenly it changed direction at a sharp 90 degree angle and seemed to be heading in the opposite direction, parallel to the ground. And finally, it made another extreme turn up into the sky and sped away very quickly. This may have happened over a period of two minutes or less. We convinced ourselves there must be some explanation but I don’t think we ever came up with one and I don’t think we ever brought it up again really. I still can’t figure out what could move like that in the night’s sky in Africa.  

So here is my final thought on this. I will work hard not to be convinced of impending space invasion, or fall for all the alien abduction hype. But I will not let myself be fooled that science can explain everything in our skies. Now turn your own lights off (for the sake of a postponed “Earth Hour”) and watch what was filmed in my own night’s sky only a few weeks ago.

 

 

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Filed under Africa, Deep thoughts, U.F.O.s

Hot for President

I just heard Barbara Walters say out loud to Barack Obama what I have been thinking for awhile now. 

“We fwink dat yew are vewy sexy looking” 

I don’t care if I agree with a woman who is twice my age on what’s sexy, it’s TRUE. And I honestly don’t feel ok about it.  

Here’s the thing. He is young, tall, and attractive; he has a deep confident voice and can inspire thousands upon thousands when he speaks. He is funny, he is masculine, and he can even dance. He has this sweet, somewhat honest, self-deprecating way about him when he’s chatting but can turn on the important presidential “take no prisoners” voice when it’s appropriate. That’s it, put a fork in us, we’re done; he is someone a lot of American women, including myself, are fawning over. 

But that doesn’t feel right to me. What, I won’t vote for Hillary because she’s not hot? There is no doubt that she isn’t bringing in the crowds quite like she used to. She doesn’t have the speaking presence that Obama has. She can be a bit serious and hard edged. To hell with it, lets just face it, Hillary is just not “sex”.  But is that any reason not to vote for her? Absolutely not!  

I was a Hillary girl at the start. She is a smart woman with years of history in politics and the white house (and don’t tell me being the wife of a president gives you no experience). She is serious about the issues at hand, is extremely focused on health care reform and has some excellent ideas about how to lead this country out of its current mess. And while I would not vote for any candidate solely based on their gender, I was comforted that a smart woman, mother and women’s college graduate could very well lead this country. Yes! Perfect! This is what America needs at last! 

But as the weeks have gone on, some of that Hillary excitement has just faded away for me. Her true politicking has bubbled up to the surface on more than one occasion, her reactions to certain events haven’t been all that impressive, people deeply involved in the Democratic Party are backing Obama – she just hasn’t really kept the flame alive, you know? And I guess I feel sort’ve “eh” about her these days. 

Obama on the other hand, well, he continues to shine. No doubt, the press are stumbling over themselves to cover his every move. And today, even Barbara and her co-hosts giggled and told him he was cute. Shoot, did you know he’s even loosely related to Brad Pitt! Are you kidding me? People seem to want him as president… and people seem to want him, period. 

So I still haven’t 100% made up my mind whether I want Hillary or Obama in office (not like my vote counts anyway… thanks, DNC). Undoubtedly, I will wholeheartedly back whoever gets the democratic nomination. But I just need to get it off my chest. Obama is “vewy sexy looking” – these hearts in my eyes are not in good taste and it’s all rather unfeminist of me.  

Hillary, now is your chance to reign in the women of America. Show us the facts and set us straight. You have to get cracking. He will make an excellent president but the fact that he is Brad Pitt’s long lost relative is certainly working in his favor right now.  

In the meantime, will someone give Barbara and the rest of us a cold shower?

 

 

 

 

 

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Filed under Inspiring people, Obama, Politics, TV

The Most Fabulous Dinner Party Ever.

While I was a college admissions counselor, one of the “standard operating” interview questions went a little something like:

“If you were to have a dinner party and could invite three people to it, who would they be?” 

Well, here I am in the self indulgent sanctity of my own blogging world and I have the luxury to finally ask myself that very question. And since we are being self indulgent here, I think I may have a much longer guest list. And perhaps a red carpet, velvet rope and paparazzi out front to greet them all. So, let me introduce you to the people that currently interest me. And you are, of course, welcome to come along as well. Bring a sense of humor however, this could be interesting. 

Barack Obama: I mean… duh! Have you heard this man speak? Deemed the “new hope” of presidential candidates, he is guaranteed to get the rest of the guests there – all giddy to hear him utter even the phrase “please pass the jelly”. 

Whoopi Goldberg: An outstanding actress (The Color Purple changed me), I watch her as often as I can on The View. (That’s so “stay at home mom” of me, isn’t it?) She’s an example among women: smart, fearless, down to earth and absolutely hysterical. 

Katherine Hepburn: A feminist before it was cool and a sharp witted wordsmith, this woman would eat you for lunch if you dare challenge her. I adore watching her films; she was a fantastically smart woman and storyteller. 

Keith Olbermann: I can hear my “repub” father groan from here. A liberal talking head like no other, Keith’s my man. Oh and he has to bring Rachel Maddow, another regular political analyst on his show. She comes from a home away from home of mine (Northampton, MA.) and she’s just brilliant. 

Condoleezza Rice: She gets a vodka tonic as soon as she arrives. This woman has to stand behind the current administration and defend its horrid decisions to the rest of the world. Make it a double for our soon to be pal, Condi. 

Hillary: Another obvious choice. But she needs to leave her political aids, carefully crafted catch phrases and anger issues at the door – come and have some fun, Hill!  

Paris Hilton: Let’s make it a party! And I mean, for diversity sake, her vapid comments will certainly keep some issues in perspective. Tinkerbelle (her Chihuahua) can come too I suppose, but she has GOT to bring her jail diary. Perhaps with some encouraging applause (and more vodka) she may even grant us a reading, can you imagine? 

Janis Joplin: Oh, now it’s a REAL party!! Plus I am banking on some spontaneous vocals and good old fashioned rock star fun. Let’s put Hillary next to her. 

Ani Difranco: Feminist, folk singer, poet, now mom – after listening to her music after all these years, she still speaks to me. 

Tom Cruise: Are you kidding me with this guy? Tiny, over zealous and ego-centric to an alarming degree, I have got to see how he really makes sense of himself. He better let Katie have a night on her own. She needs it… desperately.  

The Rolling Stones: Ok, they have seen every party and lived to tell about it. While also hoping for unprompted performances and a good time from them, I still feel their story telling could leave some of our more “smug” guests speechless. Keith Richards can sit at my end of the table. 

Bill O’Reily: I need to keep the conversation provoking but (gag) I just don’t want to sit next to him. He’s really full of it (completely packed to the hilt, in fact) – and don’t you just get a certain “Mr. McFeely” vibe from him? Ew. 

Khaled Housseni: Author of “The Kite Runner” and “A Thousand Splendid Suns”, he’s given me joy and heartbreak twice now. I need to know this man and learn more about his extraordinary country. 

Naomi Wolf: Another feminist mom and amazing author who changed my perceptions on so much. We’ll sit her next to Bill and make him suffer. (Cue my evil cackle…. Muuaahahahaha….) 

Jo Frost; AKA, “The Supernanny”: This reality TV star turns misbehaving children and horrible parenting around every Tuesday night. She’s wonderfully wise, “parentally” gifted and can hold her own with any of the “children” in attendance. 

John Hughes: Creator of the BEST 80s teen movies ever, please can I sit next to him? (And maybe he can tell me more about that ever-so-dreamy guy who played Jake Ryan?) 

Robin Williams: Guaranteed to keep things completely and utterly insane. And who else might convince Condi that singing Heart’s “Barracuda” karaoke style is a fantastic idea? He has to come. (And I think he just got divorced too. Who could I set him up with?) 

Ryan Seacrest: Well, if karaoke is involved, he needs to be there to MC our show. He is the contemporary Dick Clark; he’s plugged into pop culture if anyone ever was and certainly must have a story or two to tell. 

George Lucas:  Creator and Director of all Star Wars movies, a legend in his own nerdy right. (And he needs to explain why he didn’t do a back story about Han Solo. For real.) 

Ann Coulter: (cue Psycho knife wielding ‘weeee weeee weeee’ music) but it wouldn’t be a party without her, right?… Right? 

Kathy Griffin: She is absolutely hysterical and will fearlessly ask ANY question for a laugh. Plus if you’ve seen her “stand up”, she has more dish on celebs than Paris has outfits for Tinkerbelle. Love it. 

GW: Ugh, maybe he can stop in for just a drink, otherwise I may lose my appetite. I am having visions of Bill and Ann saddling up behind him, thugs and defenders of the evil empire. Honestly, my logic is that if I detest the man so much, I should suck it up and meet him so I can judge him fairly. But I will not be held accountable for the behavior of my other guests however, especially after all that vodka. 

Ronald Reagan: Ok, Mr. Perfect–republican-that-current-conservatives-pine-for… What WAS so great about you? And I have my own bone to pick with you about ignoring the AIDS epidemic so you better watch out if I get a couple in me and grow me some “beer muscles”.  

Britney Spears: Crazy as a loon and also from Hollywood, she can sit next to Ronald and keep him entertained. And maybe the Supernanny should hang out with her too… ya think? 

My grandmother Caroline: she died before I was born, I was named after her, she was adored in her family – I would do anything to meet her and enjoy this absolutely insane party with her. Do you think she’d be up for some karaoke too?

“…good times never seem so good…”

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Filed under Deep thoughts, Feminist tendancies, Inspiring people, Music, Politics

The Won*derful Wor*ld of Wal*mart

Here are the facts. Our super walmart has everything: groceries, home goods, clothes, sporting goods, a pharmacy, an optician, a hair dresser, a photographer, a nail salon, some random clock store and even a bank. It’s got $2.00 boys shirts. Generic diapers that save me $10.00 a box. $2.00 boxes of cereal and bread for a dollar less than the grocery store. Scrapbooking supplies and crafts cheaper than Michaels, decent smelling candles, cat food at $3.00 a bag and annuals for my garden at 0.88 cents a piece. No doubt about it, the prices are exceptionally low and we have saved boatloads upon boatloads shopping there – the savings can make me positively giddy at times. It’s also about 3 miles down the road from our home and its open 24 hours. There is just no question, for convenience and savings, shopping at walmart is a no brainer. We shop there once a week at least – I know the cashiers, it is a part of our life. 

But there is a tiny voice inside of me that really needs to push aside all of this practical thinking, raise its picket sign and declare in full protest that…. 

I do NOT feel good about shopping a Walmart.  I promise you I don’t. On so many levels. 

Let’s start with how I detest Walmart politically.  I get it. Walmart rips away any sort of local retailer’s hope for business when they pull into town. They mark their prices impossibly low and wait for all the minivans to park and drop their cash in their endless row of tills. Walmart is as unique as the McDonalds built to its left. They take away any sort of identity a town may have and set up their rollbacks according to terms Corporate designated. (Thanks for putting those scarves and mittens on sale, Walmart. I live in Florida.) Our country has so much depth, culture and distinctiveness. And yet there is at least one big blue bottomless pit plunked dead center of most American towns and cities, sucking the “coolness” out of each little community it encounters. 

I also need to discuss that oh so special walmart atmosphere too. That big warehouse vibe with florescent light glaring down on you. The aisles are not very wide and items are piled to the ceiling. There is an endless hum of discount advertizing on the flat screens hanging above your head every few aisles. (Those TVs, they scare me. My children stare at them slack jawed while I run under them every time. I have this irrational fear one is about to come crashing down on me.) And if you decide to brave “Hel*Mart” (as some call it) at certain times of the day or certain days of the week… beware. The crowds, as desperate for savings as you are, madly push their carts with no regard for anyone up and down those crowded aisles. The vibe in that place wears off on everyone. As hard as the door greeters try to say hello and put a smile on each customers face, no one says excuse me, no one says thank you. The place can suck the life out of you and make you downright miserable. 

Have you ever been to a 24 hour walmart around 11pm? A whole other group of folks shop then. People with no where else to go, people who want to avoid crowds for whatever reason or people who work all day and just need to finally shop once the kids are asleep. I have seen a man walking barefoot by himself, with no clear sense of where he was. I’ve seen a parade of seven scooters in a row going down the aisle at one time, with very overweight drivers at the helm. I’ve seen handicapped shoppers quietly picking up milk and bread (possibly hoping to avoid any stares), shoppers on roller blades, drunk high school shoppers and shoppers like me trying to shop in peace. Still, I can’t help but feel we are in some sort of shopping casino where the bright lights, confusing aisles and lack of clocks are meant to lull you into thinking its not as late as it seems. Just keep shopping. Just keep shopping. 

It is no surprise at all that my oldest son detests shopping at walmart. “It makes me boring” is his usual excuse. The other day he told me that it was too loud and crowded and I couldn’t agree more. So I have started joking with him about our trips there by calling it the ‘Wonderful World of Walmart”. It’s like Disneyland! There are rides (shopping carts), wild animals (fish in tanks), and an exciting little smiley face guy that tells you when there is a rollback! He thought that was pretty funny and it has kept him from complaining for now. But I am kidding all of us. It’s a means to our end and it is my own true paradox. It has savings, convenience, endless quantities of every possibility. I make my lists up and sort my coupons before I go and feel such satisfaction looking at the receipts when I leave. But make no mistake about it. There is not a rollback possible that will ever make that tiny voice inside quiet its constant protest. “Hey hey, ho ho, this walmart absurdity has got to go!” Right on, sister.  

Click here to visit WAL-MART’S Blog!
Click here to visit HEL-MART’S Blog!

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Filed under Money, Shopping

My Champagne Sedan: A Tribute

I have this car. At first glance, it’s really nothing much to look at. At all. It’s just a Saturn sedan. It’s this weird gold color – I think it was described as “champagne” by the Saturn dealer. But this car is special to me. And I feel the need to tell its story.  

Let’s back track to late spring, 1997. The pomp and circumstance of college graduation was over and I was giddy with that desperate need to get out of college and on with life.  And that spring, my parents very generously presented me with a gift that both mortified and elated me. They gave me my first car. Mortified, you ask? Yup, I was mortified that I was allowed a brand new 97 Saturn SL fresh from the car show floor. It was literally given to me at the dealership with an enormous green bow taped to its roof. But the bow isn’t what mortified me (surprisingly). I was getting a brand new car that I had not paid one dime for. I fretted that it could label me as a spoilt privileged child. While my friends were looking forward to decades of student loan payments and possibly many more years until a brand new car of their own, here it was, a brand new gold prize with a big green bow on top just for me. But, let’s not kid ourselves. I was also positively elated. Jubilant, in fact. I finally had a car! I was free! I could drive where ever I wanted to! I could commute to work like real grown ups did! I got over my guilt and worries fairly quickly – and so began my life with my Saturn.  

Over the next few significantly life changing years, it kept right up with me. It put up with my political stickers, spilt drinks, stinky dog, drives in deep snow and cheesy taste in music blaring from its very basic speakers. My car showed its true champagne colors when – besotted and irrational – my now husband and I moved to Worcester, MA. Not only does that part of Massachusetts enjoy some of the most terrific snow storms in the state, it happened to be the 57 mile halfway point between my job and my husband’s job. I drove my Saturn 114 miles every day, roundtrip, in whatever weather New England dealt us for almost two years. My poor Saturn. And it stuck right by me. The only hassle it gave me was a starter issue. But can you blame it? I wouldn’t want to start either if I had to wake up and drive 57 miles before the sun was even up in 14 degree freezing temperatures on the Mass Pike. Forget it. Smart car.  

In 2000, my husband and I were married. What was our “get away” chariot after our wedding reception? The Saturn, of course. I remember being stuffed into its backseat, giggling in a pile of wedding gown and tulle, looking through wedding cards with my new husband by my side as my brother drove us to our hotel.  

In 2003, my first born son arrived into this world. A car seat was gingerly installed into the backseat. Special mirrors, hanging toys and window shades were placed throughout. It was now to care for very precious cargo indeed. One day a couple years later, while my son was, very typically, tossing around crackers and spilling juice on the seats – I remembered a moment when my parents first gave me the car. My mother had insisted that we ask for scotch guard protectant for the seats. I thought that seemed a bit silly and remember remarking “it’s not as if little kids will be in this car!” and then madly thought “what if my kids someday do end up driving in this car!” It was a completely insane concept. And then, clearly resigned to the ground in crackers in my backseat, I knew my mom was right about the scotch guard.  

So here we are in 2008. A couple weeks ago, the Saturn’s mileage clocked in at 130,000 miles. The stickers are still there, its sentiments real but a little faded. Both of my boys, strapped in their car seats, are squeezed into its backseat daily. Every inch of space is piled with books, toys, the contents of birthday party goodie bags – and even more crackers. Every other day, I pull into my son’s school and park amongst a parade of minivans. All with tinted windows and fancy car door openers. The moms peer down at me, through my untinted windows – they see me, my kids, my mess and I wave and say hi. The other moms know my car and often remark “oh, hey, I saw you driving past Target the other day!”  When the moms and I chat about my Saturn, we have a good laugh. The only thing “power” in it is its steering. Manual gears, manual windows and manual locks. And the one that always stumps them – it has a tape deck, for God’s sakes! That sends them into hysterics – I crack up too. That Saturn is truly unique and obscure in and amongst the endless cue of soccer-mom-mobiles. I drive it shamelessly – it has no car payments, its running just fine, and I am grateful.  

Some day soon, my Saturn may stop pumping its AC, its little tires may give out and I may see two “X”s over its headlights, with a little exhausted tongue sticking out from under the hood. Let’s be honest, it’s had its day in the sun, and snow and everything else in between. And I will have to face those inevitable car payments and irksome feelings of car “two-timing”, while I buy a nice used mini-van. I will find my place in line with that endless parade of soccer-mom-mobiles. I’ll be grateful for the space, the manual locks, a CD player or – dare to dream – a connection for my MP3 player!   

But I’m not quite there yet. My Saturn is still with me and I am fiercely loyal to it. And after all of these years, it seems I should pay it some sort of tribute. If only I could find a nice little green pasture where Saturn owners turn out their cars to enjoy their remaining days in peace. Or maybe we should build a nice little “in law” garage for it to retire in when the new mini van shows up. I even asked my father when it would enjoy “vintage” status. He said it might need another 10 years. So we’re over halfway there! In the meantime, whichever comes first, it’s inspiring “vintage” status or that nice little green pasture for retired Saturns, I’ll just keep driving and assume that’s the best tribute I can give it for now.  

“The car has become a secular sanctuary for the individual, his shrine to the self, his mobile Walden Pond.”  ~Edward McDonagh

 

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Filed under Cars, Self-analysis, Stuff I have

My Wonders of the World.

 

My children are amazing. No really, they are. I know, I know – I am their mother, and my opinion is hardly an objective one. But you really must appreciate what they are capable of. They are miracles of science, they defy logic, they amaze and astound. These children of mine are quite something.  

When I was twelve weeks pregnant with my eldest son, the doctor placed a small microphone on my belly and turned up the volume. There was a heartbeat. What was just a cluster of cells only weeks before had now organized itself into something with a heartbeat.  And it happened again with my second child. Just like that, these two boys had heartbeats. To this day, if I put my hand on their chest, that heartbeat is still there. Going strong – alive and well and defiantly beating on. It is an astonishing feat. 

My boys have eyes that actually see this world I live in. While I fed them as babies, I would watch them watch me – I was amazed to see my own reflection in their eyes. What did they really see? What were they thinking? Since then, they have grown into extraordinarily keen observers. They see every color, every shape, every detail – they see so much more than I ever do. My 18 month old is learning colors right now. He will find the smallest shade of green on a box of cereal. He will celebrate a purple billboard with a squeal of joy. My four year old will tell me the shape of his partially eaten meatball looks like a Dr. Seuss character. Wow. Yes, in fact it does. Every plane in the sky, every leaf that falls, every school bus that drives by – they see what I never see and they celebrate it. 

Inertia is an absolute impossibility for my children. During pregnancy, I could not imagine one child would make such a ruckus within. Could I be giving birth to puppies? When my sons came into my life, it became quite clear that these boys were automatically set in motion. Within their first year of life, they fought with every ounce of their souls to move. Kicking and thrashing about suddenly became rolling over. They rolled over endlessly until they mastered crawling which turned into pulling up and then standing, which quickly lead into walking, and finally running running running until they collapsed into a twitching heap to sleep for a (hopefully) consolidated group of hours, only to wake up, rattle their cages and demand to be set back into motion. What could possibly fuel such a force of nature? I merely feed, clothe and love them – and then I step aside.  

Did you know that a two day old child makes earwax? Who knew something that was just figuring out how to breathe would need a Q-tip so fast. Did you know my children have immune systems of steel which fight off whatever frightening viruses they should acquire eating shoes, dirt, shopping cart handles and possibly even kitty litter? Did you know they can repeat back anything you may have off handedly said as far back as a month before? 

My sons have silly toes and funny shaped ears that no relative seems responsible for. They have impossibly long eyelashes, perfect little white teeth and the softest skin imaginable. They find joy reading one book 27 times before lunchtime. They can learn a word’s meaning after you have told them its definition only once. They run faster than I can catch them, are more powerful than the batteries in their toys and can leap enormous puddles with a single bound. My sons are amazing. 

I think what may astound my husband and I most is that our boys unconditionally love and trust us. Who does that? Who hands over their hearts entirely to another human being without so much as a question, a first date, a background check, an interview – something. They arrived into our lives and loved us from the get go. To give love the way they do, to never expect anything other than “us” as their parents, to hand over their lives and simply trust that we have even the slightest clue about what we are doing… well, there is no doubt, my children are exceptionally brave.  

You are convinced now, aren’t you? These children are capable of so much more than we are as fumbling, dusty grown ups. Who made us the ones in charge? They are truly masters at what they do while I still wobble about on my parental training wheels. There is no doubt in my mind, my children are each wonders of the world. Slap two little capes on them, cue the superman theme music, turn on the wind machines and stick them up on the pedestals they belong on – my boys are amazing.

 

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Yup, I’m blogging… but why?

After hemming and hawing for far too long, I have finally ventured into this strange new blog world.  I have considered it for some time but just haven’t decided to make that leap. I kept asking myself, if I could even find the time, why should I blog? What do I honestly need it for? I think I finally may have the answer.

A few months back, my mother delivered an enormous dusty box to my house filled to the brim with nothing else than – gasp, horror – my old diaries. I began my first diary around 9 years old. My beloved “Annie” diary was a Christmas present and, inside of it, big loopy magic markerd letters declared that “Talitha is my best frend in the hole werld”. After filling that with quick entires and drawings of kittens, unicorns and rainbows, I just moved onto using regular spiral bound notebooks. Year after year, notebook after notebook, I had it ALLLL written down. The drama. The bad choices. The horrifying details. My life. I can barely open those notebooks without passing out from sheer horror. Its just mortifying. WHY did I write all that stuff down?? Well. I’ll tell you why. If you know me, you know I process everything I do by talking about it. And when I can’t talk, I want to write.

So why blog?

Well, those diaries spelled it out clearly enough. Blogging will allow me that outlet. But why not just start another diary? This blogging business had always seemed rather self indulgant. I mean, honestly, who wants to read these silly thoughts and rambles? And do I want to put such silly thoughts and ramblings on display, for the public to openly roll their eyes at? Lord knows I am *this* close to grabbing a can of lighter fluid and being done with that box of diaries once and for all. 

So back to the question – why blog?  

I think I will leave it at this. My brain needs this blog like a mouse needs an exercise wheel. After 5 years of mothering, I am going to shake out some mental cobwebs, and stretch my thinking legs a bit. And maybe now and then I will invite those that are close to me to watch this spectacle. Maybe I can amuse and entertain! I certainly have very little to hide but I have a LOT to ramble about. If you are with me already, enjoy this very silly ride.

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