Have you ever had one of those...well...years? 2009 has been one of THOSE for me, and quite honestly I cannot wait to see it conclude. I know that doesn't sound particularly uplifting, but it's true. There have been so few times in the last 10 months that I've turned on the television, tuned in to the radio, or logged on to my computer that I haven't seen, heard or read about sort negative world event. Foreclosures and unemployment and swine flu and healthcare and pilots missing airports because they're on their laptops and the Mayan calendar--I've just had enough.
And yes, for those of you who might wonder, I tried boycotting the news and talk radio (I even unsubscribed to the Glenn Beck Insider) and all sorts of things, but I'd virtually have to hide myself in a cave to miss everything that swirling around.
So here's what I think. The moment that 12:01 a.m. on January 1, 2010 strikes, I vote that we all stop putting up with the nonsense. That we stop being afraid, stop listening to those boobs in Washington and start going on with our lives. That we refuse to pay attention to what people on the left and right coasts are spouting and instead decide what we're going to do in our very own hometowns. That we support local business and encourage development and invest money again. That we let our kids go outside to play without lathering them in hand sanitizer (okay, so you might want to wait until later in the day on January 1 depending on where you live to allow your children outside--12:01 a.m. is a little early). That we stop being politically correct, and saying the "not that there's anything wrong with" whatever it is we're trying not to be judgmental about and instead stand up for what we really do believe.
I know for me, anyway, that if I did even half of those things, 2010 will be a heck of lot brighter than 2009. Your thoughts?
Sincerely,
A Mom Who's Swine Flu'd Out
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Birth Control
My husband will be thrilled to hear that I am, officially, no longer baby hungry. It's been eating away at me for about a year now, as I've watched my youngest getting older and starting not to need me as much anymore, and my son growing by leaps and bounds. Surely one more would be the perfect solution to my longing.
Yeah. Not so much.
I think that the people who market the pill and all other forms of contraception should just rent out two children who have the flu within a week of one another. One should be about...say...six, with the uncanny ability to loudly broadcast that he has been touched by or looked at or spoken to by his sister in a way that he simply does not appreciate. The second should be...I would think...nearly three, with the lungs of a hog caller and the range of the first soprano at the Met. You know, the one who can make your ears vibrate to the point that you're quite sure that brain matter will start squirting out of them?
Make them remain in close proximity most of the day, with them going into and out of one another's rooms and touching each other's stuff. Part of the aversion therapy should also include making the younger of the two go down for a nap while the older one is made to be quiet. Other rental options would feature just making couples drive around with them in a car trying to listen to something on NPR, or tossing both children into a shopping cart at Target, where they will be chased by the "sit down" Nazi's in tan and red and made to feel as though they are, at any given moment, going to have their child tumble from the basket and mar the retailer's perfectly shiny floors.
Toward the end of the rental period, make sure to try to get both to eat some form of nutritious dinner, brush their teeth, put on their jammies and FOR HEAVENS SAKE GO TO SLEEP.
Yep. Birth control.
Warning: The FDA has not approved this form of contraception because they know that it would simply limit the number of taxpayers required to give all of our money to the government for use on bailouts, buyouts and whatever else comes to mind.
Yeah. Not so much.
I think that the people who market the pill and all other forms of contraception should just rent out two children who have the flu within a week of one another. One should be about...say...six, with the uncanny ability to loudly broadcast that he has been touched by or looked at or spoken to by his sister in a way that he simply does not appreciate. The second should be...I would think...nearly three, with the lungs of a hog caller and the range of the first soprano at the Met. You know, the one who can make your ears vibrate to the point that you're quite sure that brain matter will start squirting out of them?
Make them remain in close proximity most of the day, with them going into and out of one another's rooms and touching each other's stuff. Part of the aversion therapy should also include making the younger of the two go down for a nap while the older one is made to be quiet. Other rental options would feature just making couples drive around with them in a car trying to listen to something on NPR, or tossing both children into a shopping cart at Target, where they will be chased by the "sit down" Nazi's in tan and red and made to feel as though they are, at any given moment, going to have their child tumble from the basket and mar the retailer's perfectly shiny floors.
Toward the end of the rental period, make sure to try to get both to eat some form of nutritious dinner, brush their teeth, put on their jammies and FOR HEAVENS SAKE GO TO SLEEP.
Yep. Birth control.
Warning: The FDA has not approved this form of contraception because they know that it would simply limit the number of taxpayers required to give all of our money to the government for use on bailouts, buyouts and whatever else comes to mind.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Bubbles, Linoleum and Baby Powder
One of my most unique memories has to do with my cousin Cheryl. We were, I suppose maybe 6 years old, and she had come for a sleepover. My room in the old farmhouse wasn't carpeted then; in fact, it had a linoleum floor. I can only assume it was the slickness of that floor--along with the bubbles that were given to us to play with--that ultimately led to our big adventure.
My family was out and about--probably doing the hay. I wasn't often left home alone; I guess I can see why. You see, I'm not sure what prompted Cheryl and I to do it, but for some reason known only to those 6-year old minds long ago, we dumped the bubbles on the floor, creating our very own little skating rink. But that wasn't all. No, we also donned my mother's nylons to make everything extra slick.
The look on my face when my mother caught me was, I believe, mirrored just this evening in the wide eyes of my husband's children when I came across their adventure in our bathroom. You see, I haven't felt well for a few days, and have largely spent my time lying down on the couch, watching my church's General Conference. I could hear them laughing all together too hard and, when I asked them what was going on, innocently answered "nothing". Perhaps it was the 'flu or just my advanced age, but I actually believed them. Big mistake.
Soon, however, I could detect a rather strong odor of baby powder in the air. So I rolled off of the couch to investigate. Imagine my rather strong reaction to the sight of the two small people who live here, covered in baby powder, trying desperately to clean it up before my arrival. It was on the floor, the counters, the wall, the magazine I had thumbed through when I took my most recent hot bath of the day and even, I presume, the ceiling.
I asked the older of the two how it all happened. "It was an accident," came his response. Now, I didn't spend four years of my life working in the court system for nothing, and I examined the witnesses in such a way that Gerry Spence would have been happy. And what was the reason finally given for such an action? "Well...it was...there...."
Kinda like bubbles and linoleum, I guess. Sigh....
My family was out and about--probably doing the hay. I wasn't often left home alone; I guess I can see why. You see, I'm not sure what prompted Cheryl and I to do it, but for some reason known only to those 6-year old minds long ago, we dumped the bubbles on the floor, creating our very own little skating rink. But that wasn't all. No, we also donned my mother's nylons to make everything extra slick.
The look on my face when my mother caught me was, I believe, mirrored just this evening in the wide eyes of my husband's children when I came across their adventure in our bathroom. You see, I haven't felt well for a few days, and have largely spent my time lying down on the couch, watching my church's General Conference. I could hear them laughing all together too hard and, when I asked them what was going on, innocently answered "nothing". Perhaps it was the 'flu or just my advanced age, but I actually believed them. Big mistake.
Soon, however, I could detect a rather strong odor of baby powder in the air. So I rolled off of the couch to investigate. Imagine my rather strong reaction to the sight of the two small people who live here, covered in baby powder, trying desperately to clean it up before my arrival. It was on the floor, the counters, the wall, the magazine I had thumbed through when I took my most recent hot bath of the day and even, I presume, the ceiling.
I asked the older of the two how it all happened. "It was an accident," came his response. Now, I didn't spend four years of my life working in the court system for nothing, and I examined the witnesses in such a way that Gerry Spence would have been happy. And what was the reason finally given for such an action? "Well...it was...there...."
Kinda like bubbles and linoleum, I guess. Sigh....
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