American Idiot

It was inevitable that this day would come--to be honest, I've feared it since the day I discovered that I was pregnant the first time around.

But I envisioned the scene very differently than this. First of all, in my vision, my daughter was in at least middle school, more likely high school.

She'd approach me with a math book in hand, looking up at me with trust and earnestness in her sweet young face and say, "Mom, can you help me with my homework? Don't you just love quadratic equations!?"

(Those of you who know me are now gasping---you didn't think I could pull that term out of my ass did you?)

In this vision, I would calmly defer her to her father. Or a tutor. Or a neighbor I once saw getting the mail that looked pretty smart. Doesn't matter. Anywhere, with anyone but me.

Instead, here's how The Day My Child Proved Smarter Than Me really unfolded:

She's 6, very much not in high school, and her sister asks me to braid beads into her hair using the handy-dandy automatic bead braider machine thingy(marked ages 5 and up) .

I grapple. I test. I try. I fail. I read. I try again. I grapple some more.

I give up.

The 6-year-old then picks up the maddening contraption and proceeds to braid many brightly colored, decorative plastic beads into both of her sisters' hair, braid after braid after seamless braid....

She also figured out 10 times 10 is one hundred by just thinking about it for a second-- the day after she learned to count by tens. I think I was in 8th grade when that kicked in.

Oh, I'll be able to dispel the myths of early American history to her when the time comes. And I've done a passable job with phonics and reading comprehension tasks already.

But she won't be fooled for long. The look on her face when she told her sisters that she would help them as she picked up the evil bead machine was something just short of utter disillusion. It told us both all we need to know. When it comes to smarts, she's got me. But good.

Round and Round

It's amazing how your perspective on things changes depending on where you are in your life.

When I wrote this last year, I was all aflutter with goodwill toward my fellow humans. This year, I am rejecting every invitation for holiday shopping and have resorted to endless, revisionist list-making in order to put off the stress of wrapping, shipping, hiding, and the inevitable debates about who/what/how much.

Then there's the sibling equity issue. One big doll=two small games? One electronic gadget=, <, or > two stuffed animals? I keep going around and around on every possibility, soaked in fear that someone will feel shorted.

It all just requires so much thought, and after work and volunteering up the ying-yang lately, I can't muster the energy to think it.

Make no mistake. I still love to shop. I yam who I yam.

Yet somehow, so far, I've ended up with a new ring for myself, a bowl, and a decision to purchase Visa gift cards. Not a lot of evidence to support my contention that I'm a creative, personal gift buyer.

There's still time, right?

Raise Your Voice

Note to fellow countrypersons:

Vote. And then, be done with it.

I simply do not believe I can endure one more week of the phone calls, direct mail, commercials and news stories.

So get out there. Do the right thing. And in the process, put to rest this heinous politicking.

Pretty please?

Dirty Deeds, Done Dirt Cheap

Is it just me, or are men in powerful positions getting tossed out of the closet so fast, and so hard, that they're getting bruises all over their much-maligned asses?

Ted Haggard is an excellent example. When he stepped aside, he said it was for the "greater good" of his evangelical organization. Good and evangelical? Oxymoron.

Or, just moron.

Can't people just realize that their sexuality is, in fact, NOT something to be ashamed of? That it's the lying, deceptive, hate-filled propaganda that should fill them to the brim with shame?

And he represents 30 MILLION MEMBERS! Any of those folks learn anything about honesty, real-life, or finding their happy place? Me thinks not.

Interestingly, this link is an article about a book he wrote a year ago that pushes for an amendment to the U.S. Constitution negating any chance of gay marriage...but in between his gay bashing, if you read closely, you'll see that he talks about having an "open mind" in a secular society. Yeah. Open and out, Bucky.

This link to his boyfriend's web site is far funnier. Hey, if you're gonna drown in hypocrisy and self-loathing, might as well go for the gusto, Haggard! Props for the buff choice.

Perhaps Ted and Mark Foley can take a quiet vacation together and decompress from all of the pesky media attention they've received lately. There are a few priests in the New England area that might even join them. If they promise to be good little boys.

Smile

My oldest daughter's face is a symphony of expressions most of the time. When she smiles, her eyes twinkle like the heavens. When she's sad, her entire head seems to collapse within itself to accentuate the drama.

Nowadays, these interpretive expressions are filled with air---she has more holes in her mouth than Augusta National. It's given her an entirely new look. But hey, at least the Tooth Fairy's got a regular gig here lately.

And it's true that losing teeth is just one of the wonderous, natural byproducts of growing up. I even thought the first couple of losses were cute.

But when there are holes up, down and sideways, it makes eating a challenge. It makes feeding a challenge, too. I've resorted to serving her mushy anything-I-can think-ofs for the past couple of days, but there's one more problem: we have Halloween candy all over the place.

It taunts her from across the room the moment she's home from school.

"Mommy, can I have a Twizzler????"

"I dunno. Can you? Maybe if you shove it straight onto your back teeth and chew it up really well back there you'll be able to get through it okay without choking."

So far no choking, but it's a pretty sick joke in timing as far as I'm concerned. Poor baby. Poor, lispy, whistle-y baby girl.