Sunday, December 21, 2008
I heard it last night. Uttered by a 7-year old girl, embroiled in an argument with, you guessed it, a black Santa. Santa tried, in vain, to explain to her (over the raucous laughter) that there were, in fact, black Santas. "Just go out to East Denver".
She wasn't buying it.
I can't really say I blame her. I had to convince black Santa himself (as I was delivering my Santa suit a few days earlier) that there ARE black Santas. As proof, I showed him my Christmas ornament of a black Santa sitting at a piano.
He didn't buy it either.
Of course, until recently, no one thought that there would be a black President in the near future either. Which would lead one to think that times are changing, right? But change is slow, and racists never change their spots. (They just blot on a little concealer). But every woman knows that concealer doesn't work for very long.
I discovered a heavily "made-up" man at Friday night's Christmas party (which had no black Santas). We were having an interesting conversation about the First Amendment. Some of you might think that those are mutually-exclusive terms, but they're really not. (Previous readers will remember that I took a class in First Amendment Law taught by Archibald Cox).
Anyhoo, there was a small hullabaloo a while ago when a kid wore a t-shirt to school that said something about Obama being friends with terrorists. The school decided that the t-shirt was disruptive. They gave the kid the option to turn the shirt inside out, change, or be suspended. He chose to be suspended. His father immediately alleged this was a violation of the First Amendment.
So this guy at the party brings this up with a very strong belief that the First Amendment was, indeed, violated. As someone who took First Amendment Law from the man who argued more First Amendment cases before the US Supreme Court than anyone else, and who had the most impact on how the First Amendment continues to be interpreted to this day, I explained to this man that kids in school do not enjoy the same First Amendment rights that the rest of us do.
This man was so annoyed that I felt I had to explain that this wasn't my idea. It's just the law. For a moment, I thought I had a real card-carrying member of the ACLU in my midst. But later, as he dismissed the notion of respecting others' religions, I realized that he was just another bigot.
I bet he would be surprised to know that Santa is black. (And God is a woman!
Friday, December 19, 2008
I gave birth to the most adorable child in the world. Now I know you are thinking that I am biased, but, seriously, he was the most adorable child ever born. That is, until I scarred him for life.
It wasn't entirely my fault. My mother was in town and she had me in a complete tizzy. At the very same time, Brody did something (I don't remember what) that warranted a time-out. I dragged him back to his bedroom. For some reason, he requested that he be put on the top bunk, rather then his bottom bunk. Not seeing any significance in this request, I agreed. The problem, though, was in the execution.
I am 5'2". Bunk beds are taller. Apparently, I didn't take the time to fully analyze the physics involved in lifting a 3 year old onto a bunk bed that was higher than myself combined with the relative weakness of my biceps.
Holding him, I took somewhat of a running start and stepped on the bottom bunk. My forward force suddenly stopped and we fell backwards. (This is the part I hate to admit). In a sort of innate self-preservation, on the way down, I dropped him. I didn't mean to drop him. I just did.
The cry was horrific. Worse since I knew it was my fault. He was lying face down over a plastic bin from Target. My first thought was "please don't let it be his eye, please don't let it be his eye." I picked him up and to my great relief, it wasn't his eye. There was, however, a huge gash on his cheek. Deep and wide.
Mommy emergency mode kicks in. Aidan (7) gets me a dish towel to hold over the gash. He also calls 911 and then hangs up, but that's a different matter. The police call me back and I explain that my son fell (no details) and has a cut and I am trying to decide whether I need an ambulance, but I think I can make it, so I'll drive to the hospital.
So I tell my mom to please hold Brody in the car with the towel over his face. She says, "Aidan can go with you. I'll stay here with Gunnar." With no time discuss the matter, we run out to the van. Aidan (remember he is 7) sits with Brody in the passenger seat (no one is buckled in) trying to hold the towel on his cheek. But he's a screaming, writhing, very annoyed little boy, so it didn't work out very well.
We get to the hospital. I try to explain what happened. They immediately take Aidan because, unlike my mother, they know that I can't deal with a 7-year old when I have an injured 3-year old. Person after person come in and ask me what happened. Each time, I have to say, outloud, that I dropped my child. Bad mom. Bad mom. Bad mom. They didn't say it. But I could hear it.
Eventually, someone came in and injected my poor child's face with what seemed like a ridiculous number of shots, and stitched him up. Crisis over, I started to feel light-headed and about to faint. The nurse gets me to lie down on the bed, puts a washcloth on my forehead, and takes Brody somewhere.
She calls my husband and tells him of my condition. We all wait for him to arrive. But. What? He doesn't. Finally, after their persistent calls, he shows up. Apparently, he didn't believe that I needed his help. I am a stud, but there are times when I really do need a little help.
So, every day since then (7 years), I look at Brody and see his scar. And every day, I think about the scars, both physical and emotional, that a mother leaves on a child. With any luck, the worst scar Brody will have will be the one on his face.
(I will provide a picture, I think, when I can scan one in. No promises, since the visual reminder is painful).
As an aside, Brody doesn't remember this incident. He has asked about the scar and his brothers have reported exactly what happened. So, I hear about it, all the time, especially around Christmas!
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Maybe someday they'll create a wildly successful brother band (like The Jonas Brothers or Naked Brothers Band) and buy their mom a big house and Mercedes. Probably not, since they can't be in the same room without beating each other up. I guess I need a job!
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
2. I resolve to tell my mother she is being a bitch when she is being a bitch (like when she asks me if I have gained weight).
3. I resolve to stop yelling at my kids when they poke my increasingly flabby belly.
4. I resolve to stop gloating about the election to my Republican friends (ok, this one might be hard to keep).
5. I resolve to relearn Russian since I just found a bunch of my college books in the basement and I can't believe that I used to understand it (it's a Flowers for Algernon kind of thing).
6. I resolve to limit my alcohol consumption to champagne.
Monday, December 1, 2008
As I was waiting outside the school for Gunnar, Aidan sends me the following text:
"Granny tried to lock out Brody (from the house) and when I didn't let her, she told Brody I was a fuddy duddy in the kitchen where she thought I couldn't hear her." So now she's back to insulting Aidan (previous readers will remember the time she called him a "bastard."
I know one can't expect a pit bull to change it's colors. But my naive self thought that a grandmother pit bull just might. She has definitely aimed her arrows at Aidan, so far. My thinking is that she knows inherently that he is the one who is the most sensitive to this kind fo thing. Of course, this is not a conscious thought. It's just disturbing that my mother is now extending her damage on to the next generation. At least I can help him understand that she's whacked.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Not to be dissuaded, I decided to call the doctor. I don't care if I wake them up. It's their job and that's why they get paid the big bucks! I explained what was going on to the on-call doctor. He said to ease up on the Percoset, because that can cause breathing irregularities. I said "so I shouldn't be freaking out?" He said " no, but if you have any concerns, take him to the ER." So I asked what kind of sign should I look for that would send me to the ER. In a tone that suggested I am an idiot, he said, "if you are concerned. I'm not there so I can't make an assessment." I felt like saying I wouldn't be calling if I wasn't concerned, and you're the medically-trained professional, and I don't really know when it becomes a dangerous situation since I didn't go to med school and you don't have to be here because I accurately explained what was going on. But I didn't. I said thank you, hung up, and immediately said to my husband, "these guys sooooo cover their ass."
In the evening of the procedure, my son kept complaining that he couldn't breath well and that it felt like there was a glob of blood in his throat that he couldn't get up or down. So, I called the doctor and described the symptoms. (The doctor that did the procedure was on call that night.) He said that Aidan's uvula was swollen and he should not be lying down. (This would have been useful information to have when they sent us home after the surgery). And, strangely, he added the comment that he wasn't here, so he couldn't make an assessment. That was the first time that I hung up the phone and said that they were sooooo covering their asses.
I get that doctors face malpractice suits and that their insurance rates go up. While everyone would like to blame this on the lawyer, I blame it on the malpractice. If they didn't commit malpractice, no one would sue them. Most people understand that medicine is not an exact science and outcomes will not always be the same. Malpractice occurs when a doctor does someting, or does not do something, that is an accepted thing under the particular circumstances (this is not the legal definition, but I don't do malpractice law and it's 1 a.m.)
So I would assume that the Pediatric Ear, Nose, and Throat office would have done so many tonsillectomies that they would recognize common results and would know when something was serious enough to go to the ER. By turning over the medical judgement to me, they are absolving themselves of responsibility. So when Aidan begins to have slower breathing or this pattern goes on for one hour, or two hours, or three hours, I won't know if he needs to go in and since they said they can't make an assessment, they are clear. Fuckers!
So, in my non-medically trained way, I woke Aidan up so that he would breath regularly, turned on House (which, ironically, is his favorite show), and gave him a big glass of 7-Up. He's not very happy with me right now, but, too bad. The doctors opted out of this situation, so I have to take over. And I don't know squat except that as long as he is awake, he is breathing and I don't have to be in a constant state of panic.
She redeemed herself by providing me with a constant supply of hot tea with lemon and honey as I suffered in bed. Eventually, though, even her caretaking abilities could not make up for the even more painful presence of my mother, and I had to retreat to my empty dorm (which provides no food service or anything else during spring break). Sadly, it was better to be alone in the dorm than in the house with my mother.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
I mean, I'm pretty sure my kids nominated me for Mother of the Year. When it comes time for the ceremony, I'll put on a suit, maybe even a dress (if I really have a chance of winning). More importantly, I will bring on stage with me a posse of scantily clad women dancing around me in a type of sexual worship. Oh. Ooops. I'm not a man. Nevermind.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Thursday, November 6, 2008
This isn't the election night speech. This is the "Yes We Can" speech after New Hampshire. The end of this speech was incapsulated into a greeting card thing that I received months ago from the Obama campaign. With a little help from my eldest son, I recorded it and saved it as my ringtone. Then I sent it to every Republican that I know. I don't know about them, but I thought it was funny!
Monday, November 3, 2008
Anyway, if Obama doesn't win, my 9 year old, who took a lot of crap from my in-law family, will be bummed.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
I know. I don't have as much influence as the moderators of vice-presidential debates who let candidates avoid answering questions in order to spew their well-rehearsed sound-bites tthereby turning a "debate" into a commercial. Nor can I have as much impact as the temporary host of Meet the Press (Brokaw - God love him) who let Bob Schaeffer(R), a.k.a, Moron from Hell, Candidate for U.S. Senate in Colorado, take over what was supposed to be a debate - by refusing to stop talking and by continually interrupting Mark Udall.
So, really, it's not my fault. It's Tim Russert's fault. He had the audacity to die just when the American people (ergo, the world) needed him the most. He was the ONLY person in the media who was willing and/or able to call politicians to task, no matter what their party affiliation. They could not avoid answering questions or give sound-bite answers. He wouldn't let them get away with that. He understood that there was too much at stake. And he had the balls (sorry Gwen) to demand real answers. Does anyone else miss him as much as I do?
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Of course, I am not the only parent that brainwashes their children. Many do. I saw a story on the news today about an 12-year old child who was suspended for wearing a homemade t-shirt to school that said something to the effect that Obama is friends with terrorists. He was told by the principal that he could either change his shirt, turn it inside-out, or be suspended. He chose to be suspended. The child's father believes this to be a violation of his First Amendment rights and is threatening to sue.
Luckily for me, I took a class in law school entitled "First Amendment Law" which was taught by a visiting professor from Harvard. You may have heard of him - Archibald Cox. (If you don't know who that is, look it up). The University of Colorado School of Law is highly-regarded and very selective in their admissions process (which would explain why they didn't accept me when I first applied). After transferring there, I was worried that my intellect may not match that of the other students.
Professor Cox was tough - very tough. He had clearly spent many years using the "Socratic Method" to torture Harvard law students (it's worse than waterboarding). To my surprise, as the students began to recognize that Cox was far more challenging than other professors, they began to skip class. And I don't mean a class here or there. I mean every day. How could they skip? This was Archibald Cox! He's a First Amendment Law legend! He wrote the fricking text book! This was a once in a lifetime opportunity! What a bunch of wimps!The problem for me was that with the resulting small size of the class, Professor Cox had fewer students to call on. And for some unknown reason, he liked to call on me a lot. (I'd like to think it was my due to my extraordinary wit and intelligence - but it wasn't). He was very old at this time and wore huge hearing aids. I was very shy back then and terrified that I would expose my ignorance every time I spoke. As a result, when called on, my voice would get very, very quiet. Professor Cox didn't seem to recognize my fear, so he would say "What ?" while fumbling to turn up his hearing aids. But the fear and humiliation were worth every second of the torture. He told us stories of his time as the Watergate Special Prosecutor (fired by Nixon) and the many times that he appeared before the US Supreme Court (more than any other attorney). It was fabulous. He was fabulous.
One day we had a visitor in class - famed photographer Annie Liebowitz. She came to watch him in preparation for her photo shoot of him for a cover of Vanity Fair. She saw me being humiliated. But I digress. I brought this up only to get to the matter at hand, which is that the Supreme Court has routinely decided that students do not enjoy the same degree of First Amendment rights as the rest of us. Bummer for this kid's dad. He thought he'd get rich being an ignoramous (oops, I mean Republican).For more on Archibald cox, read the following article.
QUOTE OF THE DAY: "I think it would be really cool to have a tail that you could use like a monkey." Uttered by Gunnar while watching an episode of What Not to Wear in which a weird woman walked around with a fake tail attached to her buttocks.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Two women still make a team. Now I don't know if this couple is married (in a non-legal way), but I don't really care either way. Is there something about a marriage certificate that qualifies any of us to be parents? Lots of people are having kids without the "benefit" of marriage and no one seems to care. Of course, the big question, is whether gay people should be allowed to marry at all. Some argue that gay marriage threatens the institution of marriage. I really don't get how ANYONE'S marriage, or non marriage, impacts MY marriage. Does a marriage between a man and woman strengthen my marriage? I don't think so. Gay marriage isn't legal, yet the majority of marriages break up . So, what's the problem? Religion.
Some religions consider homosexuality to be a sin. I'm not sure how the inability to legally marry, and, thereby, gain the numerous legal benefits of marriage, reduces homosexuality, but I haven't been to church lately.
I'm not a card-carrying lesbian. I am not trying to marry a lesbian. I am just annoyed that so many people believe it's ok to impose their religious beliefs on others. It's the same with abortion. Whether or not I personally would have an abortion, doesn't mean that I (or the government) can make that decision for other women. It's personal. Honestly, I believe that men should not be allowed to say anything about this issue at all. I've been pregnant, and given birth. It's no picnic.
And now, the elephant (or presidential candidate) in the room. First, Republicans are in my bedroom deciding who I can sleep with. Then they allow insurance companies to pay for Viagra so some old man can get it up, but don't allow insurance to pay for birth control, despite the fact that the birth control would prevent the very pregnancy that might result from the Viagra and that might require an abortion. I consider myself to be an intelligent person, and I don't get this.
The next President will most likely enjoy the HUGE privilege, and resulting impact, of selecting several Supreme Court justices. Women fought for many years to gain the right, first to birth control, and then for safe abortions. Many people don't realize that this very access to choice will be up for review in the Supreme Court. Anyone judge who says that they are obligated to honor the previous decisions (such as Roe v. Wade) of the Supreme Court (Chief Justice Roberts) is full of shit. The Supreme Court can do whatever the hell they want. Thanks to Bush, the Court already has 5 Catholics. The next President can seal the deal for generations. I'm scared. Are you scared?
I'll add something to this in light of the recent passage of the health care reform bill. Right now I'm in Tucson for the Rockies spring training and we are leaving to golf (I don't golf. I'm there for moral support).
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
The article goes on to cite the 3 most common reasons that careers might stall: 1. Boredom - CHECK; 2. Underperformance - I'm not sure I'm willing to check this one; and 3. Embedded reputation from past errors - uh, they got me there. Bad email fiasco. Enough said.
So, last month, in my final act of what Charmaine refers to as false pride (which I consider real pride), I quit. As the article says, people in this situation always wonder why they didn't leave sooner. As one staller put it, "I see that time now as if I were in a velvet coffin. I was so comfortable, I didn't realize I was dead." Now that's depressing. I don't think that I was "dead." I was just extraordinarily pissed off.
But did you know that John McCain voted against equal pay for equal work? He said that women just needed more education and training. Yeah, he graduated in the bottom 1% of his class (which is basically one question shy of failing). And he could be president. After my first year of law school, I was 3rd in my class. (It went down from there, but that's a long story). And yet, despite having achieved a doctoral level degree (the highest in my company), I was paid less than everyone except the office manager. What's up with that? Maybe John McCain can advise me what further education I need. Check him out below.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Deelip couldn't help me so he/she transferred me to Dilip (I'm not making up these names). He/she then decided that I needed to purchase their virus removal service ($100) so that the initial software could load. So he/she transferred me to Kishore. Kishore gained remote access. Then after a while, the chat disconnected. When it became apparent that the virus removal hadn't worked, I started another chat. After another long wait, I was transferred to Rakesh. But since this entire process took 4 hours and I still had no Rakesh, I bailed. So now I'm out $180 and still have viruses and no anti-virus software.
Since then, I have been emailing Norton (I refuse to start another chat) demanding a full refund. Apparently no one actually reads my emails or the history of the matter, so they explain how to download the anti-virus software (which is impossible due to the virus). Woe is me!
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Ya see, I'm sitting at work catching up on Maureen Dowd's columns in the New York Times, when to my great vexation, I stumbled upon an unfamiliar item in the lexicon - solipsism. I moved on to her next column, and there it was again, solipsism. What is the meaning of this curious word, I pondered, that it would be felicitous in two sequential columns? Extreme egocentrism. No, I'm not talking about my mother right now. It's the definition.
Do you ever discern that some writers take pleasure in bestowing words they cognize no one will comprehend? To the ambit of being loquacious? Me too. I deem this praxis to be an impudent essay to cause us sycophants to feel middling.
In other words - vocabullyishness.
But in this day and age of video games, they are being active you say. I know. It teaches teamwork and camaraderie. Yeah. Sportsmanship. Blah, blah, blah. What's important here is that I have to get three kids to three different places at the same time practically every day. Sure I have a spouse, but the kids still outnumber us. My mother solved this problem by not letting my sisters and I participate in sports. There are selfish moments, like when Everybody Loves Raymond is on tv, that I consider just that. But I am reminded that I have Tivo. I don't want to be a martyr, but, hey, if the shoe fits!
Really, it's not all bad. I get to fancy myself a photographer, take thousands of pictures of the team and at the end of the season, spend hundreds of hours figuring out how to make a slide show for them.
Below is my first creation. I can't figure out how to get the music to play here, so you'll have to take my word that it has it (Centerfield by John Fogerty and Time of Your Life by Greenday)
And now - football season...
Friday, August 8, 2008
You might wonder how a 74-year old woman would think it appropriate to insult her eldest grandchild in this manner. Excellent question. After much thought and deliberation, I don't know. Yet, it brings back fond memories of her referring to my sisters and I (in public) as "the three bitches." All the more annoying since only one out of three of us is really a bitch! (Try to guess which one.)
As you can imagine, it doesn't sit well with Mama Bear when someone messes with her cubs! So, the next time Granny's meanness resurfaces, I will tell my husband to swing her over the pool again, only this time, let go.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
1. It's the home of the College World Series. Final game between University of North Carolina (purple) and Fresno State (who went on to win the championship). Lots of cute boys!
2. No one is in a hurry. And I mean NO ONE! Not the dude at McDonalds, not any of the waitstaff in any of the restaurants, and not even the elevators.
3. Lesbian t-shirt shop with all of my favorite feminist quotes imprinted on t-shirts. I purchased "Well-behaved women seldom make history," "This is what a feminist looks like," and "Speak your mind even if your voice is shaking."
4. Museum of Military Vehicles. The photo speaks for itself!
5. Applebee's restaurant, which, despite it's excruciatingly slow service (see #2 above), still managed to smush Brody's finger in a chair, and now, despite my complete inattention, persists in prodding me to sue them. (And they say lawyers are litigious). Go figure.
6. Hot, humid, rain, mosquitos. Enough said.
7. The mind-twisting logic that says a casino attached to a hotel, but partially over the Missouri River, is not on land, and, therefore, legal.
8. It's nine hours away.
9. My mother isn't there.
10. Hmmm. I'll let you know when I think of something else.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Friday, May 16, 2008
"When I go to school my Mom goes to work. At work she eats donuts and dances in her chair. Then she has lunch and after lunch she is hiper. When I go to school my Dad goes to work. He welds at work. My dad has ice cream for lunch. He dances in work. "
I didn't know I had so much fun at work!
Thursday, May 15, 2008
I'm not sure what I said to him. I basically rambled about how he was induced on my parents' anniversary and that after he was born, we couldn't decide what to name him (we'd only known he was a boy for 5 months).
TIP: When mothers tell you that you forget the pain, they're lying. It's all you remember! That and your husband's complete incompetence at scoring drugs when you really need them.
QUOTE OF THE DAY: "Catch. Jeez, you ain't got no skills, lady!" uttered by Brody upon my failure to catch a big, round, spiky, orange rubber ball that came spiraling at my head.