Bringing back the checkbook

A few years ago, I actually wondered about the shelf life of the old-fashioned check book. I really felt like it was doomed for death in the next decade. Nowdays we are blessed with checkcards and automatic payments on our banks' webpage. It seems that paperless is the new order of our time.

But, in the last month I think I am singlehandedly keeping the checkbook companies alive. Since school started, I have brushed the dust off of the old fake leather book sitting in my desk. I think I've written more checks during the last 4 weeks than I did during the last 4 years-- hmm, there are school fees and fundraisers, then it was the book order, and yesterday was a check for school pictures.

So, I guess my hunch about checkbooks becoming extinct may not be quite on. . . . .

Random Question from a 5-year-old, 2

Davis, "Why is our skin white, but it is not really white?"

Random 5-yr-old Question of the Day

While loading into the car for our drive home from California, Davis asked, "Why are there bees in our world?"

Patriotic?

Vice-presidential nominee Jode Biden was quoted as saying that . . .paying higher taxes is a patriotic thing for wealthier Americans to do.

Last time I read about the founding of America, I remember reading a little part about a big tea party in Boston Harbor. . . . .I think the colonials were frustrated because they were being taxed too much? Let's get back to the ideals of our forefathers and stop thinking that big government is the answer for America. On the contrary, responsiblity and oversight--not a new government program for every ail in America-- is the answer to making America stronger and, ultimately, that is what will make us proud (patriotic) to be Americans

At least

Davis had his friend Seth over today. After a horribe night of sleep (or lack thereof) last night, I decided I "needed" a Diet Coke so I threw the kids into the car and drove up to the gas station for a 32 ouncer. I let the kids pick out a treat. The kids were sitting on the back steps and eating their sugary nightmares. Eliza stood up suddenly and very clumsily fell down a step where she landed on a bunch of hard toys. She immediately screamed out it pain-- think an extra loud scream for princess effect.

Davis--ever the empathatic twin-- didn't get up to help her. He didn't even flinch.

He did, however, mumble, "At least she's still alive."

To which Seth replied, "Yeah."

Neither boy missed a beat and promptly popped their face full of another bite.

Diaper Duty

I guess I was thinking about the crasser things in life today (see post below) and couldn't get this thought out of my head. Don't read it if you have a weak stomach.

Do any of you have friends that say, "I am not ready to have kids. Changing diapers really grosses me out." Yeah, I'd have to agree: diaper duty is probably one of the worst parts about babies and toddlers.

But there is good news: the grossness really sneaks up on you. Yes, for the first few months of life, your little baby's poop has virtually little to no odor. It is cute little yellow poop that basically looks like Grey Poupon (poupon, get it?). You don't even realize it is gross until the inevitable blow-out. For those of you who don't know, a blow-out occurs when by some will of anti-gravity, the babe's liquid yellow poop migrates up his/her back and covers most of the surface area of the babies' body. This is, of course, why onesies were invented. You see, the simple white and glorified leotard (with convenient snapping access at the bottom) holds in the blow-out thus allowing the parent to salvage cute pink and blue outfits that would otherwise be ruined.

Slowly, over time, the yellow and less offensive poop begins to morph-- is is less cute and becomes more brown. It's the really human, solid food that initates the transformation. Before you know it, your kid's diapers are stinky. You find yourself wiping someone else's brown bottom-- a task you never before thought you'd stoop to. But there is a bright side: remember that saying, "a face only a mother could love?" There is actually a parallel: "poop only a parent can tolerate." Yes, it's true. Though the poop is gross, somehow as a parent you become immune to it's overall disgustingness. If you are required to change another kid's diaper-- your gag reflex kicks in and you think this truly must be the worst poop on earth. Somehow, you find yourself analyzing the odor and color. Why is his poop so green (or orange or yellow or brown)? Are those raisins? Ugghhhh, what am I doing?

Yeah, somehow your kid's poopies are just not as bad as your friends' kids. You know that feeling when you walk into the library and some child has a messy? Inside you are thinking, "Why doesn't his mother go change him? He is contaminating the entire board book section with that offensive odor!" Contrast that response with yours when your child's stinky diaper doesn't seem so important to change. You are in the grocery store trying your hardest to get the shopping done in a half-hour. Your child's smell just doesn't seem that bad. . . . . . certainly not something to tackle before you hit the register.

So, for you people out there who can not fathom the thought of diaper duty in the future. I say, "cheer up!" Your kid's poop will smell better than everyone else's kids. Really, I am not kidding!! It is a physiological response to becoming a parent-- selective nostrils. That is, until, they are potty trained. Then, when they forget to flush and you walk into the bathroom, you will realize the full power of formerly inocuous odor.

Icky

Not that everyone wanted to know this, but today my food is traveling through my system like a rocket and exiting like a faucet. Bad image, I know.

I am having a bad day.

Run!

Last night I took the kids to a carnival at the school. There was the inevitable EMERGENCY! potty call from Davis. The full-fledged potty-dance, grab your crotch routine was the signal we needed the bathroom, and we needed it fast. Of course this meant a RUN FOR YOUR LIVES across the schoolyard and into the school. I would just like to say that I haven't sprinted in a while and it is actually really fun. Thanks, Davis, for reminded how fun it is to be a kid.

In Defense of Life AND Choice

I am slightly confused by the fact that many people categorize themselves as 'pro-choice' on the issue of abortion. I am 'pro-life,' but hate to be classified as someone who is against choice.

Let's just look at this for a moment: barring issues of incest or rape, most women who find themselves pregnant had sex--by their own choice. One of the consequences of sex is, hmmmmm, pregnancy (and STD's, I might add). Therefore, in my mind, any woman who is pregnant made her choice when she had sex. Yes, I know, a man was involved. But we aren't men. We are women. The choice has different consequences for us. But we are aware of what they are.

In life there are consequences to most choices we make: break the speed limit and you risk getting a ticket, don't pay your taxes and you risk a penalty or even jail-time, shop-lift and you risk getting a misdemeanor. All of these choices have consequences affixed--as long as you are caught. Most people would argue that even if you aren't caught while shoplifting, you still committed a crime-- you still RISKED the chance of being handed a misdemeanor. This is a simple principle. Even my children understand that if they turn on the T.V. before they do their chores, they lost all T.V. privileges for the day. If you choose to have sex, you choose the possible option of pregnancy.

So, why, with the invent of abortion (something that circumvents the natural consequence of sex) are people suddenly arguing that by denying abortions (to save a life, I might add) a woman's right to choose has been violated? I repeat: the woman chose to have sex, the consequence is pregnancy. Her choice has not been violated at all. Of course there are incidents of a woman's health during a risky pregnancy or an unwanted pregnancy due to rape-- these cases are different and could possibly require a different set of rules regarding abortions.

If you choose to have sex, you choose a possible pregnancy (even if you use contraceptives, we all know there is risk involved). That's just the way it is. Sorry, women if you had an OOPS and you got pregnant-- that is part of the responsibility of being a woman who has sex. Sorry that being pregnant is really uncomfortable-- but there are scores of families out there who will raise your baby in a heartbeat. Let the child you created live! I believe we created this own evil monster of abortion when women could have sex free and clear-- no consequences attached. Maybe sex woudn't be so rampant among teens if abortions weren't legalized. Maybe there would be less unwed mothers if they actually took sex seriously! Maybe there would be less delinquent kids walking around. Maybe, just maybe, we could return to a more moral, decent, and responsible society.

So, please, stop telling me I am against choice. I am for choice, 100% for choice (sorry if it isn't the choice that you were talking about).

addicted

While drawing this picture, Eliza commented, "I am addicted to drawing flowers and people."

(Dad just informed Eliza that mom was 'addicted' to soda. . . . I always wanted my daughter to follow in my footsteps-- I just didn't know addictions were the way I would pass on my legacy)

First Day of School

I guess our Kindergarten didn't get the memo about school starting last week, because Wednesday was the first day of school for the twins. . . . .WOOOO HOOOOO (did you hear fever pitch in my voice?)!!! After reading many friends' accounts of their children's first day, I am pretty sure I might be the only mom who is thrilled to send her children on.

I think I'd be lying if I said that I was mostly excited for them to go to school so they could experience the world around them and progress in life. Though this is partly true, I think most of my excitement comes from the fact that my kids will be doing these things on someone else's time-- yeah, that's right, I'm excited to have a few hours in the morning free of, "I'm bored,","Davis hit me,","Can I start a project," and the all time-favorite, "Can I play Wii?" I'm feeling the guilt about this reality because a group of ladies I overheard were waxing nostalgic about how sad they were that their little ones wouldn't be under their constant tutelage. . . . . Does this mean I am a slacker?

Before I am judged too harshly I would like to add that I do love being a mom!! I never knew how rewarding it would be, and I was actually a little afraid of how I would feel. . . .I didn't quite understand why parents got so gushy about things like a first tooth, their child walking around the kitchen island and playing peek-a-boo, or the first day of Kindergarten. I found it a little nauseating how, while sitting with a group of moms, the conversation always drifted towards their children's antics and/or misdeeds. I secretly wondered if I was cut out for motherhood.

After much thought, I realize what it is that makes all these milestones so special. As a mom, you literally nourish this life inside of you for 9 months-- without you, the life would die. People talk about falling in love like it is a magical thing that just, poof!, happens. But I think love is an actions word, which, at the core, is all about giving. The act of service towards someone else is what love is all about. Why do we fall in love? Because we serve another human beings needs. Nourishing this baby for months and months, with no expectations of receiving anything in return is what makes you love the child. You love them because you serve them, and they need you.

And so the baby is born and you do everything for them. . . . you literally spend all day, every day with them. They are so helpless-- again, they NEED you. Then, suddenly, one day they smile, or roll over, or walk, or talk, or dress themselves, or ride a bike, or sing. These milestones are developmental, so from a global perspective, they are nothing remarkable. We expect these things from humans! But, as a mother you've watched this child go from doing absolutely nothing on their own (except pooping, there's always poop), to doing these amazing things. You get to watch first-hand, on an individual basis how amazing the human race really is. This is a bond in service/love that can not be broken. Parenthood truly is a miracle. My empathy for people in general has increased-- I'm beginning to understand what a blessing each individual on earth truly is. My experience in learning to love unconditionally has grown. So, in the end, I guess it is our kid's who really are the ones that are serving us.

Here's the kids on our block that are starting school with Davis and Eliza:

A good deed. . . .OR a subtle message

You Decide 2008:

Yes, my dear husband is gone a lot serving the baser needs of mankind. In the meantime, I cheerfully (wink, wink) go about my daily tasks at home, keeping the house in running order. Yes, I am the perfect housewife: I cook, I clean, I launder, I apply bandages to ouchies, and, occasionally, even mow the lawn.

It is the lawn mowing thing that has me in a quandry. You see, 4 weeks ago D was talking to our great neighbor, Gordon. Andy has been caught several times mowing the lawn at night in the dark (which, I might add, I have also done), and was asking Gordon how much he pays for his lawns to be done. Gordon replied, "Oh, they are really cheap, only $25 a week." To which D replied, "Oh, okay."

Later that night he told me about lawn mowing and we both decided it wasn't really in our meager resident's budget to be spending $100 per month on a job we can technically do ourselves. I say 'technically,' because let's be real here: the lawns are getting mowed every 2 weeks at most-- or otherwise when the grass is so long it is starting to become an embarrassment.

Well, what do you know, but the week following Gordon's conversation with D, the lawn mowing dudes tackled our lawn-- courtesy of Gordon. We thanked him profusely, I baked him some goodies and thought to ourselves, "What a great guy." On the next Tuesday, they started on the lawn again. D was home (working nights at the point) and told them we do NOT want them to do our lawn. "But your neighbor paid for it." "Arghh," we are thinking, "that Gordon. Too nice for his own good." I called him and again thanked him but said, "Don't you ever do that again. We'll take care of it."

Yes, that warning didn't stop Gordon-- about 30 minutes ago I heard the gentle purr of the weed whacker-- in our yard--again (it's been 4 weeks now, lawns courtesy of Gordon). I am totally embarrassed. We really can't pay for the lawns to be done ourselves-- and Gordon keeps paying, still. Do I pay him back? Is he sending us a gentle message about the state of our yard, or just being a nice guy? YOU DECIDE.