Hmmmmmmm....

Have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe, you should sell your house, quit your jobs, buy a boat and go bum around the Caribbean for awhile?

Far away from everything?

Having roasted coconuts with just you, your soul mate, and your offspring?

And some Corona?

Ya mon.

Tasteful VS Tacky

So my husband and I are engaged in a bit of a debate right now. It has to do with Christmas Lights.

You see - I grew up in a tiny-iny little house with not much going for it. But at Christmas time, me, my Dad, and my sister could dress that little sucker up! From the old C9s on the house, to the multi-colored chasers along the front fence, to the giant "tree" made out of multiple strands of lights. The more, the better. And way back when, you couldn't run out to Target and pick up a sign of lights. We had to draw out "Ho Ho Ho" on a piece of plywood, have dad drill holes, and then place lights through each of the holes from the back of the board. It rocked!

Bart's house growing up was a lot nicer than mine. His family usually had the C9s along the roof line, and maybe a strand or 2 of white lights in the bushes. Pretty.

So is there middle ground? The first time I saw that video a few years back of that crazy house with the lights timed to music, I said "I want to do that!" All of those houses you see in the in newspapers where they decorate out their whole yards and have a little walking path so people can go through it all "Oooo and Ahhh"...I want that to me MY house. I am a firm believer that once a year, you should just go crazy with it. Kids love it. Some grown-ups love it.

Bart wants tasteful. He would like to see a simple white and green and red scheme, a little in the bushes. Man did he marry the wrong girl.

I want tacky. Make that TACKY! Currently, here's what I have out:

* 5 strands of white lights edging the front shrub beds
* 2 strands of white and 1 strand each of green and red in the small tree to the left of the driveway
* 1 strand of multi-colored in the large bush to the left of the driveway
* 1 white star hanging from the roof over the garage
* 1 double strand (300 lights) of white lights in the palm tree out front
* 1 double strand (300 lights) of multi-colored lights in the ligustrum bush out front
* 3 strands of multi-colored lights in the front shrubs
* 1 6 foot tall inflatable Christmas Tree on the lawn (it lights up too!)
* 4 double strands (300 lights each) of multi-colored lights draped along the outside of the privacy fence.
* 1 strand of blue lights wrapped around the big palm in the backyard
* 7 strands of white lights in the shrub beds in the back yard
* 2 strands of blue lights edging the shrub beds in the back yard
* 2 multi-colored lit wreaths in each of the 3 front upstairs windows
* White strands of lights edging all 3 of the windows on the back of the house

We also have a tree on the lanai (with blue & white lights), the lanai is edged in white lights (but we keep those up year-round), a dolphin that I can't figure out where to plug in, and an animated white angel that I also can't find a place for.

Of course, it all goes to hell when a) bulbs begin to burn out; b) the wind knocks shit down,; or c) (as was the case last night) the rain shorts out half of my outlets. My only holdup at this point is that I am literally out of places to plus stuff in.

So who are you? Tasteful? Or TACKY!

GO TACKY GO! GO TACKY GO! Once you go Tacky you never go backy!

Sometimes Surprises Come from Outa Nowhere

You know...after you know someone for 20 years, you think you've got it all covered. You've heard all his stories 50 times, and he's heard yours 100 times. You know exactly what he's going to order at Outback. You know his friends, and are friends with them too. You've travelled all over together. You've dated, broken up, dated, broken up, gotten engaged, and gotten married. You've been together through births. And deaths. You've owned pets and kids. And cars and houses. Solid, established ground, right?

But them WHAM! Out of nowhere your husband of 10 years does something completely wacko, and totally out of character.

This has happened once before, a long time back. There was this Halloween Costume Contest at a Hockey Game. The grand prize was an Air Hockey table. Sweet, eh? So - somehow - I convinced him to dress up like Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter. I dressed up like Terri Irwin. And we went on the ice in front of 5,000 people. Not only did he dress up, but he acted it all out: we brought this huge blow up gator, and some brown cloth and some rope. When they called us, we threw the gator out onto the ice and jumped on it. Then we put the fabric over it's head and tied it up, all the while "wrestling" with it. It was a stellar performance, and we SOOOO should have won. Instead, some Star Trek Nerd dressed like a Klingon won. As my friend Lisa said "He pulled up to pick up the table in his custom-painted Star Trek Van. He probably dresses up like that EVERY weekend!"

The point here is that Bart would never do something like that. Me - absolutely. Him? Not so much. But he did it, and it surprised the hell out of me.

Fast forward 8 1/2 years or so. Mt dear friend "Tia" turned 40 last weekend. Bart and I were invited out to a huge party at a cool place called Cherry Pocket. It's a restaurant/bar/fishing camp/campground place. Very old Florida - very fun. Anyway, we were at this event for my friend, and the party was attended by mostly my friends. (Meaning mostly my girls, with a couple of husbands mixed in...) After the beer, and the air boat ride, and the Elvis show, and the SEC Championship game, and the appetizers (onion rings, fried grouper, fried catfish, fried gator, crab cakes, some sort of seared tuna, and peel and eat shrimps), more beer, then dinner (gumbo, raw oysters, garlic steamed oysters, the seafood boat, and the fried platter), we moved into the karaoke bar for karaoke and more drinking.

The beers turned to rum and cokes. The rum and cokes turned into shots. The karaoke got louder, and the bar started to empty out a bit. Now Tia LOVES karaoke, and she made everyone promise to sing. So after many many drinks, we all did. Mostly in groups. But then - here comes Bart. Next thing I know, he's up front, with a barrage of girls dancing behind him, singing Big & Rich's "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy." Not only does Bart HATE karaoke, but he's also not a big fan of Country music. But there he was. And as Tia's hubby Rod said "He didn't just sing it - he owned it!" He literally rocked out the bar! I about fell out! It's 3 days later and I STILL can't believe it! AND THEN...he got back up there with Tia and sang a duet version of The Dixie Chicks "Goodbye Earl." (He said - "It's Tia's birthday. If she wants me to sing, then I'll sing." Unbelievable.

Just when you think you know someone, they pull a whopper on you like that. Needless to say, my party-ass was so proud of my normally reserved hubby. Who'd have thunk it? Not me, and I know him better than anyone.

Oh - and if you ever get the chance to wear a tiara and carry a scepter - even if you have to steal it from the birthday girl - you should definitely do it. Very empowering...

Macy's Parade and the Car Ride from Hell

What is UP with the Macy's Parade now? I remember when I was a kid, we LOVED to watch it. It had all the fun balloons and the bands and all that. Now? The TV coverage is all about the "hosts." I have nothing against Meredith Viera and Matt Lauer, but I don't really tune in to see them being goofy and spewing out 100% uselss commentary. Get back to the balloons, damnit! And then there's the "guests", like the Macy's Parade is a talk show. CLAY AIKEN? Are you kidding me? Didn't his 15 minutes of fame run out, oh, I don't know - 5 years ago? And when did Darius Rucker go Country? Where are the Blowfish? Then there were the Marching Businessmen - a group of guys dressed in suits and ties, formed to advertise some menswear shop that has been closed for 9 years. All they did was steal from "Stripes" - boom chacalacalaca, boom chacalacalaca... It was all very disappointing.

Then there was the ride home yesterday. God bless my wonderful children - they were practically saints. The ride from Pensacola to Tampa is usually 7 1/2 hours - 8 if you stop and go in someplace to sit down for a meal. Yesterday, it took us 11 1/2 hours. That's pretty much the whole day in the car. And it was pouring the whole way, meaning the kids couldn't even get out and run at the rest areas. Every McDonalds seemed to have outdoor play areas, not indoor ones. We left Pensacola at just after 8:00 am CST, and arrived in Tampa just before 9:00 pm EST. It was miserable. The kids were real troopers, though. Their brains may have turned to oatmeal due to all of the movies they watched, but what can ya do?

Note to self: when you go back and read this entry next year, DO NOT DRIVE HOME ON THE SUNDAY AFTER THANKSGIVING.

Let the Christmas chaos begin!

How Badly Do I Want the Damed Disney Cruise?

OK - so here we are, on the brink of the season of charity, and helping others, and toys for tots, and food drives, and the red bucket with the bell ringer, and the be thankful for all you have, yadda yadda yadda. So what did I spend an hour and a half doing yesterday? Researching a Disney Cruise.

I'm a bit of a Disney nut. Not a go-get-a-part-time-job-at-the-Disney-Store-so-I-can-be-close-to-the-Disney-magic kind of nut. But I love the place. It really IS the happiest place on Earth. Especially if you stay at the Contemporary. And get to sit in the front of the Monorail. And get to see the fireworks 3 nights in a row, all from different and really cool places. But I digress...

Like most Florida kids, we went to Disney once or twice when I was a kid. I remember it was a long drive from Pensacola, and that my sister and I camped out in the back of the ole Station Wagon. I read "Charlotte's Web" on the way down, so I was bawling. We stayed at the Holiday Inn Maingate (which is still there, by the way), and did our 3 days. It was fun. I rememeber riding Dumbo with my Dad. I remember 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, which was the COOLEST ride ever. I remember loving flying over London in the Peter Pan ride. I remember that stuff (I was in 4th grade, I think...)

So it's really cool when you get to go back with your kids, because you really do re-live it all over again through them. Proximity to Disney was a major contributing factor in our decision to move to Tampa. We had our Seasonal Passes for 3 years, and have since taken a year off. (The Contemporary trip this summer was courtesy of Bart's Company, and the Conference he was attending there...)

So I decided 2 days ago that - you know what? OUR KIDS ARE THE PERFECT AGE FOR DISNEY! AND THEY ARE THE PERFECT AGE FOR A DISNEY CRUISE! At 4 and 7, they still believe in all the magic. They still love the characters. If we don't take them soon, Karlin will have slipped out of that "magic window" - once she's 9 or so, fuggedaboutit. So I decided that we NEED to do this, and create a special memory for our kids. We need to do this more than we need new bedroom furniture. We definitely need to do this more than I need a new purse. I decided - we are going to do this, before Karlin gets too old.

So I get on-line, and BAM! Reality hits. 3 Nights in the Bahamas on a Disney Cruise in a bottom-of-the-barrel, no windows cabin? Approximately $2,500, give or take $800 depending on when you go. So I'm thinking..."OK - I Substitute Teach 4 hours each day, at $8.50 an hour, so how many days of subbing would get us to Disney?" You see where I'm going here. It. Is. Freaking. Expensive. You can take a longer cruise on any other Cruise line for half as much. But then it wouldn't be Disney, now would it?

I know a few people who have been on Disney cruises, and they all say - without hesitation - that it is worth every penny. The level of customer service - as it is with Disney on Land - is supurb. The specialized attention the kids get is supposed to be second to none. It is just supposed to be The Bomb.

So now I am obsessed with the Disney Cruise. Which is really, really, really selfish this time of year. Do I get a little slack becuase I want it for my kids? Probably not - they are pretty overindulged as it is. However, you can't underestimate the value of a great vacation experience. When we went to the Grand Canyon last year, it was special. We all loved it, and all had a great time. The kids were old enough to remember it, and my 486 pictures can always serve as reminders. It was just one of those unbelieveable experiences that I will cherish forever. I know we had a few rough times - cranky kids, expensive but crappy meals, etc., but I don't really remember those too much. What I remember is Karlin blazing down the trails along the North Rim. Or Chase yelling into the Canyon to hear his echo. Chase high-fiving the "train robber" who boarded our train while en route to the South Rim. (the robber busted out laughing, becuase he was putting his hand out for tips...) Karlin diligently filling out her workbook and listening to the Ranger Program so she could be an Official Junior Ranger. The beautiful - and HUGE - deer that walked right up to me outside our cabin. The Coyote we saw. Drinking coffee while the sun was rising over the Canyon. Getting Icees after visiting the Volcano National Monument outside of Flagstaff. My point is, we had a great time. I want to do something amazing and special again.

So I'm going to start working on my Disney Cruise Account. I'm still buying for Toys For Tots. I'm still donating canned goods. But I'm also keeping in mind that my kids are growing up really, really, REALLY fast. Some things don't last forever, and you have to take advantage of things while you can. I can buy a purse when Karlin is in High School and hates me anyway. New bedroom furniture can come later, when Chase doesn't like to have his picture taken with Goofy anymore.

To quote a line from a great flick: "Up there, it's THEIR time. It's their time up there. But down here, it's OUR time. It's OUR time down here." I gotta get my kids on that boat while there's still time...

The Thing About Me

The thing about me is - I'm a pessimist. Big time. My glass is always half empty (usually because I drank it.) I am always going to have trouble finding a place to park. Christmas is always going to be a big hassle. Friends are always going to move away, and family is always going to be problematic. I will never lose weight. About 50% of the time I'm in a bad mood. Or tired. Or both. Maybe more than 50%.

Why am I like this? I dunno. My sister would tell you it's because I'm like my Mom. (although I contend I'm not nearly as bad as she is - my Mom.) I think it's maybe because of some rough times when I was a teen. Or maybe because sometimes I just can't believe that things are going so well, so something bad is bound to happen. Or maybe because I have low self-esteem. In any case, it's the way I am.

I have two friends who are so positive and so cheerful and so upbeat. They see the best side of everything. They can always put a good spin on things. I wish I could be more like that, but I'm not.

About the only time I am really 100% relaxed and positive is when I am in my pool, preferably with a beer or margarita - soaking up the sun and looking at the palm trees, OR when I'm at the beach. I dream that maybe a new shiny Louie Vuitton will change my outlook in life, but that's just shallow. (But still...a girl can dream)

The point is - I'm a pessimist.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BLOG!

Well, technically the actual 1st Birthday was last week, but it's just a Blog, so I doubt it's feelings will be hurt.

I went back and looked at some of the past blog entries. Some of them are pretty damned funny. Some of them are completely useless.It has had some value, though, in allowing me to express my thoughts. This is especially important in a world where some days I don't get to have a conversation with another grown-up. I was a little dismayed to discover that most of my best entries were awhile back. I guess I've been all out of witty in recent months.

I'm hoping to change the look of the blog soon, because I am tired of it. 2009 Promises to be the year of change. Hold on tight and let's see where we end up! :)

People I Sort of Wanted to Smack Today

(Title and theme 100% plagiarized from Amy's blog, but it's SUCH a great idea!)

People I sort of wanted to smack today:

My husband, who left to go to a Gator game and took MY CAMERA with him, leaving me to take those once-a-year-they'll-never-be-this-age-again pumpkin patch photos with my old Olympus that is - literally - held together with scotch tape.

My son, who lay screaming and flailing on the carpeted floor of the roller skating rink because he changed his mind and didn't want to do the lesson I had just paid for.

The stupid little girl in roller skates who not only ran Karlin over once, but also ran over my foot with her skates. And never apologized.

The stupid little boy at the Fall Festival who was beating everyone in the pony ride line with his balloon sword. Actually - change that. I really wanted to smack his MOTHER instead, for doing nothing to stop him.

My son, for laying on the sidewalk screaming and flailing because I removed him from the playground for throwing sand.

People I really didn't want to smack at all today:

Amy, who sent me an email that 1) stated exactly what I was thinking, and 2) made me laugh.

The skating instructor, who realized that Chase was having a "thing", and wisely decided to give him - and me - a little room and a little time.

The driver of the train at the Fall Festival, who let my kids ride twice.

My husband, for coming home with wings and cheese fries.

My husband, for putting in the fabulous pool and hot tub that I so enjoyed swimming in with my family for 2 hours tonight.

The people who organized the Jamaican Jam fest 1/2 mile from my house, providing me with glorious free live reggae music all evening. Great acoustics from the pool...

Go Rays. Go Gators. Stupid people suck.

Funny Things

Funny phrase heard this weekend: when my son - who had been happily trick-or-treating at Sea World's Spooktacular this weekend - encountered the trick-or-treat booth sponsored by Chiquita, he looked at what the guy was giving him and said - with much disgust - "Hey - Those are BANANAS!" (the boy knows his candy - he is my son , after all...)

Does anyone know where I can get one of those industrial toilet paper dispensers? You know the kind they put in schools so that the kids can only take 2 sheets at a time? I really need one of those in the kid's bathroom. Bless their hearts for wanting to be so clean, but we are currently plowing through 9 double rolls a week. And they clog the toilet with that paper about 50% of the time.

And why we're looking for those toilet paper dispensers, where can I get one of the Jedi paper towel things? You know the ones - they put them in restaurants, and you wave your hand in front of them like a Jedi and like magic, a paper towel appears. I don't need one for the kids. I just think they're cool, and I like pretending I can use The Force to get my paper towels.

I am living proof that real Coke and powdered doughnut holes really can make you feel better.

I watched a new TV show today called "Real Simple" (after the magazine.) I was thrilled that they featured a woman whose house was in worse disarray than mine.

Here's what I heard on a talk radio show this morning. Some caller had called up and complained about how "all the black people vote together." The talk show host - who is white - and his producer had the following exchange (heavily sarcastic, in case that doesn't translate via text):

Dan York (host): Well you know, the black people all get the black people newsletter. They all read it and all keep up with what's going on. No white people have ever seen it.
Producer: I had a friend who saw the newsletter once.
Dan York: And no one's ever seen him since, right?
Producer: No.
Dan York: Yea- that's what they use Guantanamo for.

I actually laughed coffee onto my steering wheel. Then another caller wanted to know when Colin Powell's "street cred" became real with the black people, since even black people say he's not really black. Some people are really idiots.

"You Should Live Here"

So - anyone who knows me knows I am addicted to HGTV. I really should have a much nicer house considering all the makeover and design shows I watch. Let's just say putting it into practice is, well, a bit of a challenge. Especially when I could be swimming in the pool or playing Lego Star Wars on the PS3.

This afternoon I saw a new special on HGTV called "You Should Live Here." Basically they used a variety of sources and surveys to determine things like "The Best Place To Raise A Family", "The Best Place For Food", "The Best Place To Live Longer", etc. Then at the end, they listed the viewer's top 3 choices for best places to live.

I want to say that I think this show is total CRAP. First off, every single one of the places they listed had average home prices of over $250,000. I mean seriously...you're young and wanting to start a family. How about moving to Portland where the median home price 45 minutes outside the city is a half mill? Or what about the "City With the Most Beautiful People" - San Diego? I've been to San Diego, and I distinctly recall seeing more homeless people there than anyplace else I've ever been. Guess that great weather attracts less-beautiful people too. Want to live longer? Move to Denver, where all the fresh mountain air, pure water, and outdoor activities make for a longer life. Ummm...did they forget about the, oh, I don't know, 400 INCHES OF FREEZING ASS SNOW THAT FALLS EVERY YEAR?!?

Florida did not even get mentioned. For the waterfront lifestyle, they listed San Diego (which - by the way, the downtown is a bit from the actual ocean, and the water is C-O-L-D), and Honolulu (who the hell can afford to move THERE?)

The Viewer's Top 3? #3 - San Diego. San Diego is nice - beautiful weather, good zoo, etc. But there's the whole homelessness thing, the illegal immigrants running around everywhere, the Earthquakes, and let's not forget the wildfires. The beach is less-than-attractive - all rocky, and the water is cold. Great place to visit, but I would not want to live there.

#2 - Denver. I have only passed through Denver, but I hear that it is over-run with liberal socialists. The skiing is great, but I just couldn't stomach living in the snow and cold 6+ months of the year.

#1 - New York. Now, not to offend all you New Yorkers out there (I know of 3 who definitely read this blog...), but let's just wait a damned minute. The TV show said New York is #1 because "it has it all." I've never been there (except to JFK), and I would definitely like to visit someday. But I would rather have 3 root canals than move to New York City. It does NOT have it all. No decent beaches (not without a fair drive, and I'm not even sure those beaches qualify as decent). COLD weather and snow in the winter, and HOT weather in the summer. And it's too damned big - too many people, too hard to get around.

I may be biased, but why didn't any place in Florida make the list? We live where millions of people each year come to VACATION. Tampa - in my opinion - is the best. It really does have it all. We are less than 20 minutes from the best beaches in America. (Two of the local beaches won the title so many times they had to "retire" them from the list...) The weather here is fabulous. Granted it is hot in the summer, but no hotter than anywhere else in the Southeast. We get 6-8 months every year of what can only be described as gloriousness. Sunny skies, cool breezes, and mild temps. And by mild I mean you-can-still-wear-flip-flops-all-winter mild. Tampa is a medium-sized city, offering most of the amenities of a big city (minus the public transportation - that's one area where Tampa is sorely lacking.) We have Broadway shows here, ballet, symphony, and art. We have a world-class Zoo, and one of the more famous theme parks. We have all the "good" professional sports - The 2004 Stanley Cup winners the Lightning, the 2003 Superbowl Champion Buccaneers, and - if you read the paper at all - it looks like our Rays may, just may, be heading to the World Series. We have loads of parks and recreational trails. Disney - the vacation mecca of all families around the world - is 1 hour away. Almost every single day I wake up, look out at the blue skies and palm trees swaying in the wind and think "well-another beautiful Tampa day." We even seem to be mostly immune from the whole hurricane thing. Tampa has not had a direct hit in 120 years. We have an international airport, making equally easy to fly to Austin or Vegas or Cancun or Dublin. The food here is pretty damned good too - have you ever tasted a real Cuban Sandwich? The downtown is clean and safe, the suburbs have great schools, and you can be swimming with wild manatees in less than an hour. Want to go to the keys? Drivable. Historic St. Augustine? Ditto. I live almost exactly between downtown Tampa and the beaches. I can drive 4 miles away and be in middle of rural horse county. I can drive 4 miles and be looking at a gorgeous expanse of Tampa Bay.

I don't want to live where it's cold. I can hop a Southwest plane and be in Denver in 2 1/2 hours. Ski my little heart out, and then put my flip flops back on in the plane on the way home. I don't want to live in a city of bazillions of people, where the buildings are so tall you almost can't see the sky. I don't want to live near a beach that is only moderately attractive, with water that's too cold to swim in.

I want to live where it's warm and sunny. Where I can take a picture of the beach and send it to you, and you would not be able to tell if it was Clearwater Beach, Nassau, Jamaica, or Tahiti. I want to wear flip flops all year 'round. I want to be able to swim in my pool on Christmas Day. I want to be able to see Mickey Mouse whenever I want. I want to be able to be outside almost every single day. I want to be able to stand in my back yard and see the Space Shuttle taking off. I want to be able to see (and hear) Sandhill cranes and wild Parrots flying over my yard, and Ibis and Spoonbill feeding in my front yard.

I want to live in paradise, and it's here. Tampa. The only thing that could make it better is if I lived on the water at the beach. And if I had a maid. But maybe that will come later...

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

When Pumpkins Drink....

Why I am Voting the Way That I am Voting

You know - it seems lately that all I get is CRAP because I am choosing to vote Republican. This really pisses me off. I mean seriously - a carfull of Obama supporters yelled at me repeatedly and called me ugly name while I was parked at a stoplight, all because I have a McCain Paulin sticker on my car. I had 2 other people make snide comments to me as well about my political choices.

I don't harass ANY of you about how you are voting. If you ask me why (which only 1 person has done), then I will answer the question. But I don't give any of you Obama lovers crap. This is AMERICA - and you have the right to vote however you choose, regardless of how stupid that choice may be.

That being said, a few people reading this may choose to stop reading right now. (Which - in my experience - many Obama supporters tend to do. Many of them are not interested in any sort of constructive dialog - they just want to yell at you about how much you hate the environment, and how you hate "CHANGE".)

So - my friends, total strangers - whoever may end of reading this: I would like to set the record straight about WHY I am voting the way I am voting.

For beginners, I am not a huge fan of either ticket. I didn't even vote for McCain in the Primary. I am technically registered a Republican, but that doesn't really tell you the whole truth about where I stand. (In parentheses in the party traditionally aligned with that position.)

I am pro-environment (Democrat). I may drive an SUV, but I do all that I can to offset that carbon footprint. I recycle diligently. I shop yard sales. I use compact fluorescent bulbs and unplug things. I am pro-choice (Democrat.) I believe it is a women's choice to make about her own body, although I do support parental notification. (If you had a child, you would too.) I am pro-gun control (Democrat.) I am a fan of the Fair Tax Plan (Libertarian.) I am in favor of doing all that we can and/or need to do in the name of National Defense (Republican.) I am against programs that enable people instead of assisting them (Republican.)

I think it's unfair to claim that two people will be "just like the old President" and "more of the same", just because they happen to belong to the same party. If you or I were judged like that, we would be greatly offended. It's like saying that if you took over a job that another person left, and you both went to the same college, everyone is expecting you to make all the same mistakes that the person before you did. This is completely irrational. Everyone is different, and it's discriminatory to made blanket judgments like that.

I am a VERY informed voter. As a matter of fact, I spent a whole afternoon looking at the voting records for each candidate in the 110th Congress. I do NOT get my information from SNL. I listen to Bill O'Reilly AND Nancy Grace. I watch Fox News and MSN. I am offended when people say Sarah Palin cannot do the job because she's just a "hockey mom" or because she's "from a small town." I think Moms may be better qualified than ANYONE to make huge decisions, and to act in the best interest of a larger group of people. It's what we do everyday. And the small town thing? Once upon a time, our Country was founded with the premise that ANYONE could run for office and help our Country. What difference does it make if she's from a small town or not?

Do I want "more of the same?" Interesting question. In the past 8 years, we have made more money. Our investments have grown (even with the economic crisis). We pay the higher tax bracket, alongside the millionaires, because someone somewhere determined that we are "rich." No one has attacked any of our civilian citizens on American soil since Sept. 11, 2001. Overall, our family is better off now than we were 8 years ago.

Today, I heard a clip from an Obama speech. He actually said that he wants to restructure the American tax system so that it will benefit the "middle class." I HAVE A HUGE FREAKIN PROBLEM WITH THAT. I am more than willing to give charitable donations to organizations who help people in need. However, I am NOT in favor of anyone forcing me to give up any(more) of my family's income so that they can give it to people someone has determined as being "in need" based on how much money they do or do not possess. This leaves SO MANY factors out there not being accounted for. Is the "needy" person in a tight spot? Or did they just make stupid decisions? Maybe they're just lazy. Who knows. The point is, we are not rich (even though we pay tax percentages as if we were...) We are comfortable because we : a)are careful, b) work hard, and c) make good financial choices. In America, it is now considered to be a crime to be a success. If you work hard and do well for yourself and your family, you will be penalized because a certain Presidential candidate and his party thinks it's "not fair." My mom always told me "Life isn't fair." This phrase is usually in response to a child whining about some perceived inequity that exists only to the complainer.

And it doesn't take a Nobel Prize winning economist to figure out what will happen if the larger businesses and successful people in this country are penalized MORE than they already are. If these organizations & people are taxed more, then they cannot afford to hire as many employees. They cannot afford to pay as high wages. They will have to skimp on benefits, including health care in some cases. Many people will say "screw this - I'm moving my money to the Bahamas, where I'll only have to pay 11%." This takes income and currency out of circulation in America. This is all bad for the economy.

Basically it all boils down to this for me. Neither ticket matches my perspective 100%. I match some on the Republican side, and some on the Democrat side. Some on the Libertarian side. Obama and Paulin have less experience than I would like. Biden and McCain are older than I would like. So I tick off the issues here and there, and at the end of it all, there's only 2 things left. TAXES (as detailed above) and NATIONAL DEFENSE. McCain has experience in Military Affairs and National defense, and Obama doesn't. Period.

Go back and think about where you were and what you were doing at around 10:00 am on Sept. 11, 2001. I know where I was. I was on my couch, holding my 3 month old baby, crying and wondering if my husband's plane had been hijacked. Would I be a widow? Was I already? Would my baby girl have to grow up without her daddy? Bart was on the very last plane that departed Hartsfield Airport in Atlanta (big city), heading to New Orleans (big city.) For about 2 hours, I called his cell phone every 5 minutes, and flipped back and forth on the TV channels waiting for more news on the plane hijackings. For the next several weeks - months - I cried every time I saw an interview with a wife who lost her husband - kids who lost their moms or dads. My heart broke for every parent that lost a child. Babies who would never be held by their father. Even today - I am still very emotional about it. I cry during the moments of silence we observe every year.

People have forgotten how they felt back then. We have relaxed, and we have let our guard down. It is a common fact that there is a faction out there - primarily religious, partially political - that wants to see the downfall of America. The great country that my grandfathers and great-grandfathers fought for. THEY WANT TO KILL US ALL. They want to kill MY BABIES. They want to kill MY NEPHEW, and MY FRIENDS. They are still out there, and they are not interested in military personnel. They want to take out innocent people - people going to work, people running errands. We have forgotten that they are still out there, waiting for us to relax.

So it comes down to National Defense - who will protect my children the best - and Taxes - who will allow me to provide for my children the best.
And that's it - the whole of it. You may call me selfish, and so be it. But my children are more important to me than anything else on this earth, and I make my decisions based on what I believe will be the best for them.

I have seen two interesting quotes in the past 2 days that I will close with. The first was "McCain spent more time as a Prisoner of War than Obama has spent in the Senate." The second was "I'd like to keep my money. You can keep the 'change'."

I Am Evil - He He He

Last night, I was making a desperate attempt to get somewhat caught up on laundry. This basically involved me folding laundry at 11 pm, and then sneaking into my kid's rooms to try to put the clothes away in the dark.

This evening after his bath, my son aid "Hey! Why is there a pajama shirt in with my underwear?" (so that's where that shirt went!) Anyway, without missing a beat, I said "I dunno - maybe the Underpants Gnomes put it there."

Don't ask my why - after a good 8 year hiatus from any sort of SouthPark (except for the one where Mel Gibson goes all ballistic, and the Tom Cruise Scientology one...), I managed to pop out a SouthPark reference.

Of course, my son - being no dummy - said "Uh uh. What?" And I said again "Maybe the Underpants Gnomes put it there." He thought about that for a minute and said "What are Underpants Gnomes?" I said "Underpants Gnomes sneak into your room at night and try to steal your underwear." He didn't believe me, do I said "Hey Bart - Google "Underpants Gnomes" for me and show Chase I'm telling the truth." So then Chase got to watch the Underpants Gnomes, courtesy of YouTube. Step 1: Steal Underpants. Step 2: ? Step 3: Profit.

So I said "See - I TOLD you there was a such thing as the Underpants Gnomes." Sometimes being a parent can be really, really fun.

The Cut-Throat Competitive World Of....Second Grade???

My lovely daughter Karlin is in Second Grade. I am just a bewildered as you are about exactly how I already have a child in 2nd Grade, but it appears to have happened.

For those of you without kids, or with kids in small schools, you probably have never heard of something called the "20 Day Count." Apparently in bigger school districts, you have a ton of people who either forget to register their kids for school, or who think that school doesn't start until after Labor Day, or whatever. The point is, in the 20 school days after the first day, a whole bunch of people sign their kids up for school. This creates an interesting set of challenges, since in most cases teachers and classes are assigned already. So where do the extra kids go? The Principals have to create new classes, hire new teachers, and move people around, all in order to meet with the State's class size requirements. Each year Karlin has been in school, this has happened. Luckily, she has never been one of the ones randomly selected to move...until this year. Karlin's 2nd Grade Teacher was selected to head up one of the new Kindergarten classes. 3 weeks into the year, Karlin was moved to a new class with a new teacher. This is tough on any kid, and Karlin has had a few adjustment issues. But she'll manage.

Where I'm really shocked is the amount of freakin' homework these kids get! Last Wednesday night, here's what she came home with: 1 math worksheet from her gifted class, 2 math worksheets from her regular class, 2 vocabulary worksheets, and a craft project. SIX THINGS TO DO FOR HOMEWORK!

I remember my 2nd Grade well. Cordova Park Elementary - Mrs. Hargrove. She was an evil teacher - mean and scary. She actually used to hit kids on the knuckles with a ruler, Catholic Nun style. And this was in Public school! I found out later that she was suffering from some early form of cancer, but still - she treated us all like crap and we were terrified of her.

I'm pretty sure that in 2nd grade we were reading a little, and writing, and doing some math. But I'm not 100% sure we had any homework in 2nd grade, and if we did, it certainly wasn't 6 pages a night.

And it gets better. The State of Florida also has this program called "AR" -"Accelerated Reader." Kids are expected to read at least one book per day, and then take a comprehension test on it. If they get a certain percentage of the questions correct, they get points. The more points they get, the more prizes they get. I have a problem with this. I understand the need to get kids reading. However, I don't want my kid reading just to get prizes. I want her (and Chase) to read because they love books. This whole AR thing causes a lot of competition in class. There are a few boys who read 6-7 books a day and test on them, just so they can see their little airplane move higher up the point chart. Most books at the 2nd & 3rd Grade Level are worth 1 point. Karlin read an adult-level Star Wars book a few weeks back, and Bart wants her to AR test on it. The book is worth 18 points. I say no - it's not fair to the other kids, and I don't want her reading harder books just to get the points. He says yes - she read it, she understands it - why not get credit for it? And actually with Karlin I think AR has the opposite effect. She reads easier books so she can read more of them so she can take more tests. I would assume that other kids do that too. It takes longer to read a chapter book, so you wouldn't be able to test on as many of them.

I tagged Karlin last week to the teacher and expressed my "concern" about her lower reading levels. She's reading beginning 2nd grade books, which is great. But she last tested at a 4th Grade level, and her vocabulary averages out at a 6th Grade level. Shouldn't she push herself to read books more appropriate to her reading level? But then again, she won't get to test as often, so she won't get as many points. You see the dilemma?

I hate to see the kids having to work so damned hard at age 7. They go to school 6 hours a day. Karlin usually has at least an hour of homework - sometimes more. In addition to that they are supposed to read 45 minutes a night, and do science exercises on-line. Throw in a piano lesson and the day is shot. When does she get to PLAY? Oh - and they only have PE twice a week, so most days she doesn't even get any real exercise.

The kids are pushed really hard at such a young age, mainly so they can get that golden score on the FCAT. It's sad. I'm going to follow my Mother-In-Law's lead (teachers: don't read this part) and occasionally take Karlin out of school for a "mental health day." I don't think she'll miss anything super-critical in one day, and she needs a day here and there to rest and relax.

Maybe we'll finger paint, or ride our bikes or go swimming - fun things that kids are supposed to do, but don't get to do enough of.

Besides - I really like to finger paint! ;)

I Voted - Where in the Hell Was Everyone Else?

I had a couple of things to ramble on about in the back of my mind: what we saw of Gustav on our way out of Pensacola, my dad (always on my mind when we leave Pensacola), home towns versus where you live now, the beauty of the Bushwacker, yadda yadda yadda.

But then the whole Sarah Paulin thing exploded. So I decided to go back to the first thing I had thought of last week after voting, so here we go.

Bart and I went to vote in the Republican Primary last week. For a few reasons, really. #1 - I always vote. I don't care if the ballot consists of Burger King versus McDonalds, I will freakin drive to the poll and vote. I am an American, and so I vote. I don't even like to absentee vote. I actually go into the poll and sign my name and go into the little booth and vote. I like the sticker I get. #2 - one of Bart's fraternity brothers was running for Circuit Court Judge, so we went to vote for him. (unfortunately, he lost.) #3 - there were two School Board seats as well as two County Commissioner seats on the ballot.

For those of you outside Hillsborough County, it's important to point out a couple of things. First - our School Board is populated by complete idiots. All they do is bicker. The get nothing accomplished. They are useless. And they make $40,000 a year to be that useless. Unbelievable. There is only one person on there who I can even see that is half decent, (I call her the pot-stirrer, which is a compliment with this bunch) but she's being derailed by her evil fellow Board Members. I think the whole damned bunch should be kicked out on their butts. Secondly, our County Commissioners make the School Board members look like organized, proficient, effective, and moral people. If you come to Tampa, drive into the areas of NW Tampa and New Tampa. Complete freakin' chaos. You know why? Because half the Commissioners have their hands in the ole' Development biz. They approved Development left and right and then left again, but didn't bother to put in the infrastructure to support the growth. Infrastructure - you know, schools, roads, sidewalks, parks, etc. They just approved building after building after building, and let the chips fall where they may. The School District has been literally scrambling just to get enough "student stations" for all of the students. They can't find enough safe bus stops, because too many 45 mph 4-lane roads run alongside the schools, and no one bothered to think about sidewalks, or safe crosswalks. Traffic is a nightmare. And now, thanks to their non-existent planning, our area is getting more and more closed and boarded up businesses. Yep - they approved more commercial than the area can support, especially in a down economy.

So we went to vote. When we got to the poll, we walked in, and 18 jubilant elderly poll workers greeted us. They were SO HAPPY to see us. (I love little old poll workers. I hope to be one when I grow up.) Anyway, we chatted with them a bit, did our voting thing, then went to have our bubble tests scanned in. (Side note - let me get this straight... a few years back, paper ballots caused a nightmare thanks to the whole "hanging chad" thing. So they spent millions of dollars replacing it with an electronic system. Which they have now thrown out because they "don't leave a paper trail", hence the bubble ballots. Are you kidding me?) So I put my ballot in, and then Bart put his in. The nice man working the machine said "guess what number you are!" We looked and you know what we saw? #22 and #23. That's right, folks. It was 11:30 am, the polls had been open since 6 am, and those poor poll workers had only seen 23 people. UNBELIEVABLE! I could rant on and on about how many people have fought and died to give us that right to vote, and how many people around the world would (and have) die to get the chance to vote, and how we Americans are so damned pathetic for not even bothering to get off our fat lazy asses and vote - but I won't. Hillsborough County had a 6.6% voter turnout for that day. 6.6 freakin percent. I am truly saddened by that. No wonder the county is going to hell in a hand basket.

On to Sarah Paulin. I'm not a huge McCain fan, but I'm voting for him anyway. He's better than the alternative. When he announced Paulin as his VP, I did some quick internet research, and was pleased. She's not old school (a big criticism of McCain), she's not a rich white guy. She's young, smart, a parent, and has run a state. Thumbs up.

Then the whole pregnancy thing broke. If you are reading this, I want you to consider something. Think back to when you were 17,18,19,20. How many stupid things did you do? And if by chance you were a good little kiddie, spending all your time at church and the library, how many of your friends were doing stupid things? I'll bet it is close to 90%. Maybe more. Your parents taught you well. You did great in school. You had nice friends from nice families. You were in constructive extracurricular activities. You went to college on a scholarship. And you know what? YOU STILL DID STUPID THINGS. Sex. Drinking. Drugs. Vandalism. Petty theft. Drag racing. Any number of things. Were these truly a reflection of your parents, or the morals they taught you? NO. You were young, and young people do stupid things. It's part of the learning process - part of growing up. Some of us don't survive it. Most of us do.

Sarah Paulin's daughter is pregnant. She's 17. I'll bet you know at least one person who got pregnant in high school. She's young, and she's doing stupid things, just the way most of US did. I don't in 100 years see how that is a reflection of what kind of job her mom would do as a Vice President! For God's sakes - Clinton got a BJ in the White House, and people still say HE did a good job as President. Cut the lady and her daughter some slack. At least they are taking responsibility for it, they are supporting the girl and the baby (so we won't have to), and they have - in my opinion - a great opening to use this to teach other youngsters about the dangers of stupidity. Can you imagine being 17 and pregnant? You are scared to death to tell your parents or your friends. What are you gonna do? Now imagine going through all that personal turmoil - at 17 - ON CNN! This girl's personal situation is now world-wide news; joke material for the am DJs. I feel for her, I really do.

And then there's the whole Paulin's-husband-got-a-DUI-in-1986 thing. Are you kidding me? They want to roast her because her then 22 year old husband got a DUI? I'll bet every adult out there knows someone who got a DUI. Most of us probably should have (and could have) gotten a few ourselves. 22 still falls in the stupid zone. I'm pretty sure when I was 22 I was puking in the bathroom of Trader Jon's, or passed out in New Orleans at Tropical Isle. You can't seriously hold her responsible for something that someone - who she wasn't even married to - did 20 years ago when he was 22?

I like her. I like that she's had the smarts and the cojones to get to be Governor at 44. And believe it or not, I was able to rescue myself from the depths of the Hand Grenade (drink at Tropical Isle) to grow up and become a college educated, successful mother of two, who is a very informed voter.

Vote on the issues. Vote with your party. But don't vote based on the decision and lack of judgement of a 17 year old kid. In any case, go VOTE. The little old poll workers are lonely.

I gotta go - I need to order some McCain Paulin bumper stickers.

Another Classic Pearls....

I may have to get this one on a baseball cap...

Random Thoughts...

Thought #1 concerns a little 3 year old boy and his 20 minute tantrum. Let me preface this by saying that my own 4 year old boy threw his own version of this satanic ritual later in the day, so I really can empathize.

I was at the gym after swimming laps, in the locker room. This lady (known from here on as "mom") comes in with her two boys, ages 3 and maybe 7. Little Mikey (age 3) didn't want to come in from the pool, and was quite vocal about it. This, I get. The pool is fun. Who wants to leave? And it's noon, so he's hungry too. Baaaad combination. If you throw in that he's a little tired too, well, it's all over. Anyway, little Mikey was literally screaming at the top of his lungs in this rather small, enclosed locker room. It's a cinder-block locker room, with lovely high ceilings that do a great job of amplifying sounds. Little Mikey was screaming about everything - he didn't like his towel, he thought his towel was falling off, he wanted to wear his bathing suit, he wanted to change, he didn't like that shirt, he needed to go potty, he didn't need to go potty, etc. I actually heard this mom have a 3 minute argument with screaming little Mikey about WHICH STALL HE WANTED TO USE. "Ok Mikey - Let's go in this one. No? You don't want this one? Which one do you want? That one? OK - let's go in that one. No? How about this one?" and so on. Then there was the "You want to sit down or stand up? Sit down? OK. No? You want to stand up? Ok. No? How about you try sitting down?", all the while little Mikey is screaming bloody murder and giving us all migraines. This all went on - seriously - for 20 minutes until I was finally able to escape the confines of Mikey's hell.

As I stated earlier, I totally get this woman's predicament and have been in the same situation many times before. What puzzled me was this: at no point in the 20 minutes did the mom ever say or do ANYTHING to discourage this behavior. No "Mikey - I want you to stop that right now." No "Mikey, if you don't stop that behavior right now, then you will suffer consequence x." Nothing! Just a lot of "Sweetie - no one wants to listen to you scream." and "Sweetie, you need to calm down." I thought - "Man, she is raising a little terrorist!" This will be the kid that disrupts the entire class because his pencil falls on the floor.

I really wanted to go up to little Mikey and say "Mikey, you will stop that crying right this second. You will go in that stall and go potty. If you don't quiet down right now, you will not come back to this pool for a week." And if he didn't do it? I would haul his half-dressed, soaking wet ass out to the car right then, and give him some quality time in his room for awhile. I mean really - to not only make any moves at all to correct that behavior, but then to subject the rest of us to it...it's just insane. Too many parents these days refuse to make their kids take responsibility for their actions and behaviors.

Thought #2 concerns staying at home with your kids. Someone I came in contact with over the weekend was of the viewpoint that if you choose to stay at home and raise your kids, then you have no right to complain about your day, or the kid's behaviors, or anything. I call bullshit on this one. Being a full-time parent is a JOB. It's hard work. Everyone else in any job or position has bad days, and complains from time to time, whether it be about their cranky boss or that rude client, or dense management. Maybe they don't like to new benefits package, or that they don't have casual Fridays. Maybe their co-worker puts boogers under the cubicle, or the men in the bathroom always leave the toilet seat up. Who knows? But everyone does it, even in the best of jobs.

Why is being a full-time parent different? I can't complain because my clients bitched and whined and screamed at me all day? (cause they do). I can't complain when I'm unable to take vacation time? (it's been 3 weeks since I even was able to use the bathroom uninterrupted.) What if I don't think I get paid enough? (or at all?) And overtime? Fuggedaboutit.

Hey Mr. "If you don't like it, you should go get a job": I have a job. I work 16 hours a day, 7 days a week. I clean up shit and puke. I ferry people from piano lesson to playdate to birthday parties. I make sure we have groceries and everyone eats 3 meals a day. I make sure all of our friends and family members birthdays are remembered (well - most of them anyway). I send baby gifts. I plan and execute birthday parties. I do laundry and dishes 7 days a week. I make sure everyone gets haircuts and check ups and flu shots. I make sure we don't drown in pet hair, or get a dreaded disease from our bathroom sinks. I am a VP on the school's PTA Board. I serve on the school's School Advisory Council. I am a Brownie Leader. I am a reading coach. I am a homeroom mom. 19 First graders went home with personalized scrapbooks of their school year because of me. Two girls who didn't even speak English at the start of the year were reading on level at the end of the year, due in part to my help. I raise money and walk in charity walks. I cook/provide meals for friends who are having chemo, or who have had a baby, or who have lost a loved one. I dust, change beds, weed flower beds, scrub the pool deck, schedule oil changes, and organize closets. I plan vacations and paint baseboards. I biy school supplies and uniform shirts and new shoes. And then - in my FREE TIME - I make home-made play doh, or read stories, or take my kids to the Library every week. I help them learn how to latch hook or build train tracks. I help them paint pictures or make crafts. I play games with them, or swim with them, or take them bike riding.

This is just the top of the iceberg, bud. I have worked a 40 hour a week corporate job, and I have been a stay-at-home parent. I have perspective and experience on BOTH sides of the coin. You have only worked in an office. You would not last 3 days doing what I do.

Do I regret it? The staying home part? Not really. I chose to have these kids, and it's my job to raise them. Not a Nanny's job, not a daycare's job. Regardless of their qualifications, no one is going to raise them and care for them better than I do. It's fun sometimes. It's work most times. It's downright awful on occasion.

But it IS a job, and I DO have full right to complain now and then.

To all you "stay at home" moms (who are never actually at home): YOU GO GIRL! You are doing a righteous thing, and someone out here knows what you are going through. To all the single parents out there? God bless you. I am awed by what you do.

For all of the critics? The ones who get business trips and lunches at restaurants and can play solitare while on the phone and wear nice clothes? The ones who get pay raises and positive feedback and job recognition?

Shut the hell up.

Someone Else Hates Crocs Too...

I'll apologize in advance to all of you who love 'em, but I'll admit it: I hate Crocs. I think they are stupid, clunky looking ridiculous shoes, and I have not spent one red dime to buy any for myself or for my kids. My kids have 3 pairs of "imitation Crocs" between them - all three were given to them. Two of them have, well, "mysteriously" disappeared. Oops. Chase will trip over dead flat floor for no reason at all...putting him in Crocs is like riding the express train to the Emergency Room. My friend Paige has one pair that qualifies as cute. They are wedge-heeled ones, and you know why the're cute? THEY DON'T LOOK LIKE CROCS, THAT'S WHY!!!

So, in support of my point of view, I'm sharing with you an article I read today at Newsweek online. It's pretty damned funny, if you don't take offense to it. Enjoy!

Make. It. Stop.
The case for ending our long national nightmare.
By Steve Tuttle | Newsweek Web Exclusive

I like to play a game with my son, Joseph. We sit on a bench in touristy Old Town, Alexandria, Va., and we're not allowed to get up until we see a dozen pairs of Crocs. It usually doesn't take long. But the other day we were stuck at eight after a few minutes, and I was getting a little concerned. Just then my boy leaned over and said, "Don't worry, Dad. A family of dorks will come along any minute." To paraphrase Hank Hill, if he wasn't my son, I would have hugged him right then, I was so proud.
I know what you're thinking: what kind of sick father lets his impressionable young son call people dorks because of the shoes they wear? Well, who else will teach him that wearing sweaty bright purple clown shoes in public is not OK? He certainly won't learn that lesson at school. Teachers seem to be some of the biggest abusers of this horrid fad.
I know what else you're thinking: "I like Crocs … they're so comfortable. I'll tell you who the dork is … the guy writing this story, that's who! And who died and made him the fashion authority anyway?" Well, no one. I own pitted-out T shirts that are more than a quarter of a century old, and I've been known to strut around town in some pleated khaki Dockers. I own one belt. A female colleague even told me once I'd be a "perfect candidate for 'Queer Eye for the Straight Guy'." I think she was trying to be helpful. My complete lack of fashion sense actually supports my theory, because even I know these things are an abomination.
Yes, I'm really, really late to the Crocs-bashing party. Really late. Plenty of fashionistas have written screeds over the years. But the damn things are still here, so this is no time to stop fighting. To quote the great John Belushi: "Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell, no!"
I've been following the good work of Web sites like I Hate Crocs Dot Com for some time, even going so far as to submit a photograph of a stuffed skunk spraying a pair of pink Crocs. The fantastic Best Page In The Universe posted a hilarious rant a while back joking that people who bought Crocs on Amazon.com also bought frozen corn dogs, Pabst Blue Ribbon Light and trucker balls, as well as the CD single "Hey There, Delilah" by the Plain White T's. The rant's author, Maddox, writes: "People who wear Crocs go on and on about how comfortable they are, and how it's supposedly odor resistant because it's made out of some kind of anti-bacterial foam … You know what else it's resistant to? You getting laid."
A popular YouTube video called "Dorcs" parodies the trend: "Wow, but they're so ugly," says an office worker to her friend. "That's how you know they're comfortable," he says. By the end, she's a convert: "I've given fashion the finger, and joined the Dorcs revolution!" The Crocs Empire is acutely aware of us haters. Even their own commercials make fun of the irrational and over-the-top rage their shoes instill in people like me. In one, an unshaven lunatic holds a neon blue Croc in front of his face and screams, "Why are you wearing these!" for 30 seconds. I only wish I'd known about the tryouts for this commercial.
Crocs's stock price has cratered of late, so there is hope. According to the Rocky Mountain News, the shoes, "which were once so popular that the company couldn't keep pace with demand, are now piling up in warehouses." Maybe the company's just a victim of its own success. If practically every person in the U.S. already has a pair and they're indestructible, how many more can you sell? The same thing happened to Wham-O back in the 1950s with the Hula Hoop.
But the company isn't giving up. They've been diversifying, sponsoring Olympic teams and veering off into sandals and other designs, trying to fool us. They've even gone so far as to create a high-heeled Croc. OMG, as the kids say. These have to be seen to be believed. I recommend only the strong of heart should attempt to Google "high-heeled Croc." The company Web site has this ominous warning for us: "Today, Crocs™ Shoes are available all over the world and on the internet as we continue to significantly expand all aspects of our business" (italics added). That sounds like a threat to me. They're even suing other companies like Skechers for allegedly stealing their great idea. Skechers says the lawsuit is "baseless," "outlandish," and "ridiculous." I'll tell you what's outlandish and ridiculous: that these things sell so much that another company would feel compelled to copy them, allegedly. Don't we have enough eye pollution with just the originals still out there? Don't be fooled, America! Soylent Green is CROCS!!!
If you think about it, the Crocs company should really be admired. P. T. Barnum would be proud. They've managed to separate money from the wallets of millions and millions of seemingly sane people who wake up, look in the closet, and actually decide: "Today I'll leave the house wearing these neon-green Dutch bubble shoes with Swiss-cheese holes in them. Maybe I'll even buy some little plastic strawberries or bananas and jam them in the sweat holes, just to jazz things up and make the bacteria incubate faster." That's fine. I say do whatever you want in the privacy of your own home. Let your Crocs freak flag fly. But don't make the rest of us watch.
I realize this article might not go down too well even in my own editorial office and certainly not in our ad sales department. My boss in Washington read an early draft and said it was funny, but that I had a "somewhat demented obsessiveness." At least he threw me a "somewhat." Another editor wondered aloud if I had perhaps been trampled by Crocs at some point in my life. I also worry about writing this because some of my best friends—and their sweet, innocent children—wear them. One of my dearest—the sister I never had—introduced me to the shoes years ago when she waltzed into a garden party in a pair of bright hot-pink Crocs. I couldn't stop staring at them. "What are those things?!" I whimpered nervously, hoping maybe she was rehabbing from some sort of strange Achilles mishap. "Oh, they're called Crocs … I got them for gardening," she said, so innocently.
Oh, if only we'd known what a tsunami of fashion idiocy was about to be unleashed, maybe we could have stopped it somehow, and they would have stayed in the garden where they belong, covered with manure, a trendy item to be featured on www.stuffwhitepeoplelike.com. If only. Then they wouldn't be out there in the American mainstream, that big, vast, sweaty mainstream traipsing through our airports and over our beaches and around our great shopping malls. Plop, plop, plop, they go, stuffing their Crocs faces with ice cream and Doritos and giant sodas. Plop, plop, plop. Stuff, stuff, stuff. Yuck, yuck, yuck. And the rest of us have to watch. I spent eight hours waiting on a flight at Dulles over the 4th of July week and I was just minutes from tackling the next group of Crocs ploppers I saw. Luckily for me—and the ploppers—my flight finally arrived and I wasn't arrested for assault. Knowing my luck, I'd have shown up in court to find 12 pairs of Crocs sitting in the jury box.
It would have probably been better for my career if I just posted this as an anonymous Craigslist rant as CrocsHatah35 or something. Plenty of others have spouted off about Crocs there. And sure, I would have had a lot more readers. But Craigslist doesn't write my paychecks, and this is just too important to ignore another day. Some times you just have to make a stand, even if it's a few years late. Do we really think we're going to stop global warming if we can't even end this fashion Chernobyl once and for all? I think the U.S. government should institute a Crocs buyback policy, like they do in the inner city for guns. It would do more to beautify this great land than Lady Bird's highway beautification program ever did.

So I'm begging you, America. Just stop. When you wake up tomorrow and look at your options, choose flip-flops. Go barefoot. Wear boots. Anything but Crocs. By next summer—if we all work together—we can have this plague of bad taste virtually eliminated. Yes! We! Can!

One of Those Moments

You may recall when I posted back in February about Karlin losing her first tooth. Well I recently had another one of those "if only I could remember this day forever" moments...

Chase and I were downstairs, doing nothing of significance. I was sitting in the recliner, and asked him to come over and give me a hug. In his typical style, he "revved up", ran across the room, and leaped into my arms. I then started tickling him, basically by making my arm and hand into a dinosaur, and then having the Dino attack his belly. Chase has THE BEST LAUGH in the world. It's one of those rolling-from-the-belly laughs that is absolutely contagious. We played the tickling game - him laughing, and me cracking up at his laughing - for awhile. Then we did the "Peter Pan Flying" game (which I won't be able to do with his heavy 4-year old self much longer.) This is where I lay on my back on the floor, then he puts his tummy on my feet and I lift him into the air. The flying is OK, but with Chase, it's the big crash landing that that's the real fun. Then we did the Pony Ride game (again - the days of that game are numbered...)where he rides on my back. He tries to get me to go fast, and I try to get him to fall off.

The moral of all this is that for 20 minutes, it was just me and my goofy little boy laughing our heads off. No movies, no swimming pool, no expensive toys. Just us together having a good time. When he moved on I thought "Wow - I wish I could remember how fun that was forever." Like so many of our kid's moments, this one may slip away. But hopefully, because I put it in this blog, I can remember a time when it was just fun to be with my little boy, laughing together at nothing at all.

On a related note....I said I was never going to put my kid's pictures in here again (thanks Mr. Scary FBI Guy...), but I have to make an exception. This picture of Karlin was taken at a local place called Sweet N Sassy. Her Brownie Troop chose this as their end of the year party, and they all got to go & choose fancy dresses, get their make-up and nails done, and walk down the runway. Then they spend a bit of time dancing and singing all their favorite High School Musical and Hannah Montana songs at the top of their lungs. It may just be my opinion, but if pure JOY could be photographed, I think this is what it would look like:

Holy S#*t! We've Arrived!

OK. We get to do a TON - and I mean a TON - of cool stuff thanks to Bart's job. Two years ago, we got a full ride long weekend at Sawgrass in Ponte Vedra. Really nice resort, and apparently there's some famous golf there too. Then last year, we got the two-for-one bonus summer: A weekend at the world famous Breakers Resort in Palm Beach, and a weekend at the Ritz-Carlton in Sarasota. In order to get you to fully appreciate where I am right NOW (um - that would be The Contemporaray Resort at Walt Disney World), I need to give you a little history. Funny history, I hope.

Until last year, I had never even heard of The Breakers. Several people I know literally gasped when I told them we were going there. It seems that whenever the Travel Channel does it's Top 10 US Beach Resorts, The Breakers is almost always on it, usually top 5. One friend told me that she and her now-husband had looked into getting married there, but it was crazy expensive.

So The Breakers. I drove there with the kids and met Bart there. I had ear infections in both ears, but was determined to make the best of it. As soon as we pulled up, I knew I was in trouble. No fewer than 3 young men opened the car doors for us almost before the car had stopped. I told one of them who I was, and they helped us all out of the car and unloaded our luggage. (It's worth noting here that from that point on they always addressed me by name: "Good afternoon Mrs. Edwards - how was your dinner?" "Welcome back Mrs. Edwards, is there anything we can do for you today?" They always spoke to the kids too, which gets them big bonus points in my book.) They didn't even look at me funny when they unloaded a cooler full of food and a bunch of pillows and blankets. Needless to say, this Holiday Inn kid was a little awestruck. The hotel and the room were gorgeous - I felt like I was staying in a French chateau someplace. I don't think we did too much that night - drove out to an IHOP to get the kids pancakes. The next day while Bart was Conferencing, I decided to take the kids to the beach and pool. I'm a Gulf of Mexico beach snob, so the Atlantic beaches have never really impressed me much. But if I was ging to lay on an Atlantic beach, I would pick this one. It was beautiful - one of the only times I have ever been able to get Karlin to swim in the ocean. Anywho, I put on my suit, a pair of denim shorts, a Florida gators t-shirt, flip flops, and a baseball cap. (I'm going to the beach, remember?) I throw some snacks and a few juice boxes into a small cooler for the kids, and out we go. I notice right away that something is off. All around me are women in large straw hats & designer bags wearing LOTS of diamonds. In many cases, they had their 19 year old nannies in tow to watch over their LL Bean-clad kids. As we made our way to the beach, I was stopped by a very polite woman in a blazer and asked for MY ROOM KEY! She was very nice, but apparently my t-shirt and flip flop clad self looked a little out of place. I showed her me key, and then she politely explained that coolers, food, and drinks were not permitted at the beach or pool. Huh? I showed her that it was just granola bars and sippy cups, but no dice. She offered to hold my cooler, but reminded me that "we'd be happy to get you anything you'd like from the pool snack bar." Okay. So we trot our coolerless selves down to the beach, where Jason met us. Jason is what me and my cougar friends might call a "pool boy", cute and young. (Yes Amy - you are now officially a Cougar too...) Jason somehow knew who I was (did they call down from the cooler jail or something?), and immediately greeted me with "Good mroning Mrs. Edwards - may I get you a chair?" Why yes, Jason, yes you can. "Mrs. Edwards, would you prefer to be by the water, near the Lifeguard, or over close to the kid's toys?" (They have a wonderful little sandy play area with a lifetime supply of sand toys - I chose there.) Then Jason got me a chair, laid out a towel, made a pillow out of another towel, secured it all down so the wind wouldn't blow it, pulled a side table over, left me with 2 extra towels for the kids, then asked "Can I get you anything, Mrs. Edwards? Sparkling water? Soda? Cocktail?" Oh yeah - I could get used to living like this. So I had Jason fetch me a beer, and then me and the kids enjoyed the beach for a bit. (DUH! Mental note: always have tip money on hand at The Breakers.) Later on, we moved to the pool. I chose my own chair (it had fluffy folded towels on it already), and within minutes another boy came by to see if we needed anything. I tool a look at the snack bar menu and almost spit my sparkling water all over the 2,000 thread Egyptian Cotton towel. Guess how much a PB&J sandwich is? $10.50! And a hot dog? $11.50! A slice of pizza? $12.50! O-M-G! Bart's company is paying for the room, but anything we order is on us. The cheapie girl in me just couldn't stomache those prices - I could buy 3 loafs of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a jar of jelly and make 30 sandwiches myself for $10.50! So we went back to the room and raided my stash of food for lunch. The rest of the weekend went well - no major disasters. All that service took a little getting used to, and I didn't really have the appropriate wardrobe, and we didn't eat any food on property (except what we brought), but overall, I LOVED the place! (The kids did too.)

A month later we went to the Ritz - just me and Bart. Now, by most standards, the Ritz is a kick-ass place. But after staying at the Breakers, well, it's just not the same. It's the difference between having 3-4 guys open your car door, and just one. It's the difference in being on the beach, or having to take a shuttle to the Beach Club. Bart and I kept joking about what a "dump" the Ritz was. (FYI - The Ritz sarasota is a really great - I would stay there agin in a heartbeat.) The only real problem we had was that the valet could never seem to find our car. One time it took almost half an hour and a number of progressively higher ranking valet people to find it.

The point of all this is that I/we get to do things we would NEVER get to do otherwise. Most times I feel that we are a "wealthy" family. We are quite comfortable. We live in a nice house, have 2 nice cars, and a kick-ass swimming pool. We take pretty good vacations. But then you visit a place like the Breakers, and you realize that no matter how rich you think you are, there is a whole other level of people out there - people that most of us don't know about because we never come into contact with them. I can pretend (which I did this year on our return visit, but that will be in the next post), but I don't really belong there.

In the meantime, I'm going to sit here on my balcony at The Contemporary, where in a few hours we will get a million dollar view of the Magic Kingdom fireworks show.

Life is Good.

The Monsoon Pony Party

Let me start by telling you one of those stories. ALL of our parents have one of these stories. You know, the one that starts out with careful, painstaking planning of the perfect birthday party...

Karlin was turning 7. Karlin's whole world revolves around horses. So when I asked her what kind of party she wanted, she of course replied: "A Horse Party." So I got in touch with the lovely lady (Ms. Sue) who Karlin has been taking Pony Camp with for the last few years. She agreed to bring Patches the Pony out for 2 hours. Pony? Check. Then I had to find a place to have it. How about Lake Park? It's beautiful, they allow horses, and there are plenty of lovely shaded areas for the kids and the pony. Venue? Check. I tried to reserve a "picnic shelter", but they were all taken 6 weeks out. But no worries...Ms. Sue and I agreed that there were plenty of shaded picnic areas for the party. Then Karlin picked out the ensemble: the plates, napkins, cups, tablecloths, favors, and cake toppers. (By the way - I am quite proud that as favors we sent home 1 pony lollipop, and a color-your-own western bandanna that each girl got to personalize and keep. No bags of ring pops that stick to the carpet, stickers that end up all over the furniture, or bubbles that always spill somewhere.) Ambiance? Check. What time of day? Well, it's June in Florida, so only a numbskull would schedule a party during afternoon thunderstorms. How about 9:30 am - 11:30 am? Cooler temps, no rain, and the added benefit of not having to feed the guests an entire meal! Time? Check. Invitations? Check. Cute ones with a little pony and a little rhyme. We are good to go! 8 little girls coming, a horse, an aunt & uncle, a baby cousin, and a Granny and a Nanny. We are ready to ROLL!

So at 7:30 am on said day of party, I awoke, put my feet on the floor, and heard...Thunder. "Oh shit" I thought. "NO WAY is it going to rain today!" I immediately checked the radar, and it looked bad. Really bad. So I called Ranger Andy at Lake Park, and he told me that there was 1 shelter that was first-come-first-serve, and that as of 10 minutes ago it was empty. So Bart and Chase haul ass out there to secure the shelter. We load up the car, and get to Lake Park - no rain. Ms. Sue and Patches show up and set up - no rain. The first guests arrive just as...it starts to rain. And let me tell you, this was no gentle summer shower. This was a full-on Florida-kick-your-ass storm system, with brain shattering thunder and terrifying lightning to go with it. Not to mention the torrential downpour.

We did the best we could. We moved the tables into the middle of the shelter, and Ms. Sue and her husband Steve saddled Patches up and led the girls for short rides under the outskirts of the shelter. Then the lightning got worse, so we did the craft (bandannas), and ate cake. (Ice cream cake, because it was SUPPOSED to be 110 degrees outside, remember?) Then we did presents. Two of the girls' gift bags got soaked, and the bottoms collapsed. Then - in the last 20 minutes - the rain and thunder and lightning stopped. All of the girls got a nice long lap on the pony out around the grass. Karlin got to get up and show off her riding skills, including getting Patches to trot. Right at 11:30, the bottom fell out again - the monsoon was back. All of the girls and their parents were so patient and understanding. And I think most everyone had fun anyway. But still - so NOT what I worked my tail off for.

But as Ms. Sue said: "Kids don't have nearly the expectations that we do." And she's right. Karlin had a blast, and from (most of) the pictures you can't even really tell it was that bad.

How is it possible that I have a freakin' 7 year old?

Two Comics that REALLY Fit My Life Right Now...

Goodbye, George Carlin

In yet another brush with our own, aging mortality, we've lost another great. First it was Evil Knieval last November...now we've lost George Carlin. George Carlin taught me most of the dirty words I know. (My parents used to watch him on TV once we got cable, and didn't know my sister and I were listening.) I even had the pleasure of seeing George in person, in - of all places, the buckle of the Bible Belt - the Saenger Theater in Pensacola. It was about the same time that picture up there was taken. It was also right down the street from First Baptist Church (aka Six Flags Over Jesus), which he probably would have thought was hilarious. He was even better in person than on TV. He was funny, but he was smart too. He made people laugh while he made them think. That's a rare quality in a person. Peace out, GC. May you live your afterlife shouting out all the dirty words you can think of, with no f@*%ing FCC to bother your ass!

My Reading from the Bucket List...

You'll have to go back and read the archives if you don't know why I call my New Year's Resolution list the Bucket List. Anywho-

One of the things on the list is "read more books." That would be non-kid books. PTA manuals don't count either.

So far, I've knocked out about 1 a month. Not too shabby. I did a few funny ones, one serious pseudo-educational one, and one sci-fi/fantasy. Now I'm adding a classic to the list - Watership Down. True - I have read it before, but it's been about 18 years - long enough that I didn't really remember all that happened in the book. So it was tons of fun reading it - I could barely put the damned thing down! ("Ya Meeter Pig Vig - I elp you get the mudders, ya?") Love that book.

Next I'm trying to get my hands on a book recommended to me by my friend Deb. It's called "I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell", and Deb says it is one of the funniest books she's ever read. Deb is a HUGE reader, so if she says it, it must be true. Apparently it's really good, because my neighborhood book store was flat sold out of it - it's on back order. And the Library has a waiting list about 2 years long.

If I ever get my hands on a copy, I'll let you know how it is. I'm also eyeing a book by Jen Lancaster called "Bitter Is The New Black." The title alone sounds hilarious! Wish me luck!

Snakes and Pirates and Riding Lessons, Oh My! And then there's the whole job thing...

So I'll bet the whole "naked snake wrangling" thing sounded all sexy, eh? Not so much. Here's a pic of the big killer himself, happily hanging out in our pool skimmer. The naked part only came in because I had just finished jogging, and since it's Africa hot here now, I am prone to pull off my soaking wet running clothes and jump in the pool to cool off. (You may be wondering why I just don't put on a suit. Have you ever tried putting on a bathing suit when you're all sweaty? Almost impossible. And then there was the fact that my head was on fire, or so it felt like...) Anyway, once I saw the snake in the skimmer, I got out, wrapped myself in a towel, and called for Bart. Bart - of course - immediately called for the death of the snake. Not being overly fond of snakes, he automatically goes into "I'll get the shovel" mode. Me - being the ex-animal enthusiast that I once was - decided that no, we were going to IDENTIFY it first. So up I run to the computer, where I proceed to yell questions out of the window like "Is the tail sulfur-colored?" and "Is there distinct banding behind the eyes?" Bart got fed up with this pretty quick, and besides - it's pretty difficult to distinguish a juvenile snake from pictures on the computer. It most likely was a Florida Brown Snake. However, it COULD have been a baby Pygmy Rattlesnake (venomous) or a baby Cottonmouth (venomous).

I should take a moment here to interject that THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A POISONOUS LAND SNAKE! They are VENOMOUS - not POISONOUS, due to the fact that the venom is injected in order to take effect. (As opposed to an animal such as a Poison Dart Frog, who excretes it's toxin onto the skin, where you have to touch it or ingest it to be affected.) Pet peeve of mine. You'd be amazed how many so-called "Wildlife Experts" on Animal Planet or the Discover Channel will refer to snakes as "poisonous."

I am not a big fan of killing wildlife. However, when it comes down to the chance that one of kids might be in danger, what can I say - I let Bart get the shovel. So that's how I came to be naked, wrapped in a towel, holding a tiny snake with a pair of BBQ tongs while my husband cut it's head off with a shovel. Before you say "Awwww" with sympathy, I need to point out that this little punk was really nasty. For a snake that small, he was not going to take any crap off of us. He curled up on the handle and tried to strike several times, which did nothing to increase the odds of his staying in this world.


I had a fabulous girls' weekend at the beach last weekend. We went to a place in Treasure Island called John's Pass. There was supposed to be a Pirate Festival that weekend, but I'd have to say the whole "Pirate Festival" part was pretty lame. Gators was a fun and unusual place though. On night #2, we gave up on the John's Pass thing, and took our decked-out selves to St. Pete Beach to attract attention with our Pirate outfits and beads. It was a very rare occurrence for me as I was the perfect amount of drunk, AND I wasn't the sick one the next morning! Here's Nancy, Therese, and I, looking rather mischievous if you ask me.

And then there's the riding lessons. God bless my baby girl - in almost 7 years on this planet, she has loved nothing but horses. Horse books, Pony books, any movies or games with horses in them, horse clothes, pony camps during the summer and on breaks. We counted a few months back, and she has 87 horses in her room. Those include stuffed horses, Breyer horses, My Little Ponies, etc. 87. And with her birthday coming up, what did she ask for? Ponies and Horses. We've tried Gymnastics and soccer. No dice. We did Chorus and now piano. Those were met with moderate enthusiasm. After almost 3 years of Pony Camp (where she learned horse anatomy & grooming, and some beginning riding), Ms. Sue says she has reached her ceiling and needs to move on to proper riding lessons. The good news? There is a great place about 6 miles from the house. It's beautiful, and they can teach her as much as she wants to learn - maybe even to the point of showing and competing. It seems so extravagant to me - riding lessons are for rich kids. That's where the bad news comes in - it's pretty pricey. But if she doesn't do much else, and it's the only thing she's truly expressed an interest in, should we give it a go? I'm tempted to say yes, but I'm not the one who pays the bills.

And that is actually a pretty tidy lead-in to the whole job thing. I don't pay the bills, but I may be helping. Last night, I spent 3 hours filling out my first job application in more than 7 years. I'm not even sure I want the job - it's full time, it's 25-30 minutes from the house, and the pay is so-so. But it's a Park Ranger position, so I'm throwing my hat in the ring. I think I passed my first hurdle by going through that endless application process for the Sate of Florida. UGH! You have to really be interested in a job to go through all of that. I seriously doubt that I'll even get a phone call back - I've been through this at least 3-4 times before, and each time - nada. But I'm hopeful maybe they'll at least want to talk to me. Then maybe I can get them to consider a part-time gig.

Bart says I shouldn't tell people I'm applying for a job. What a weirdo - what's wrong with sharing your entire life with a couple hundred of your closest pals? (Or the whole 8 people who read this thing - ha ha ha!)

Coming Soon....

I'm coming back - I swear. Once I get through the end-of-the-school year stuff, and once I recover from my upcoming Pirate Festival girl's weekend, I'll update this blog.

I'm sure I'll have some interesting stories to muse over. And I'll have to tell you about the naked snake wrangling.

If anyone from the Tampa Bay Lighting stumbles upon this: WTF? BARRY MELROSE AS COACH? YOU CAN NOT BE SERIOUS!!!! CALL THE PRESS WHEN YOU SOBER UP!

;)

How the FBI Scared the Shit Out of me Tonight

You go to a PTA meeting, promised a program about internet safety. You leave wanting to throw the computer in the garbage and lock your kids in the bathroom for the next 20 years. You know, we are SO SHELTERED. And unfortunately, what we don't know CAN hurt us, and our kids.

There are a lot of sickos out there, and the internet is making it easier for them to prey on kids. Mr. FBI Agent (who did an excellent presentation), filled us in on so much. One of the things he mentioned was how these pedophiles will go on-line, steal pictures of kids, and then put their faces on child pornography. For that reason, I'm not putting pictures of the kids up here anymore, since this page is public. Sorry.

Oh - and note to all: if your kid is on myspace or facebook or xanga, or if they are in virtual worlds like Second Life, or if they play Wii or PS3 games via the internet, YOU NEED TO REALLY, REALLY PAY ATTENTION!

This guy came to talk to us, and there were maybe 30 people in the room. The school currently has 650 students. I'm hoping we will have him back next year and really, really publicize it, because EVERYONE with kids needs to hear about this stuff.

I am literally nauseous after seeing some of that stuff. So kiss your kids/nieces/nephews/friend's kids and be on the ball!

Curious George Visits The Hospital (This is a long one)

OK...so Karlin's not a monkey, and Bart doesn't have a big yellow hat and there's no sad little girl named Betsy or a big foodcart crash with the mayor. But I still think the title fits the blog. You see...

On Thursday, we packed my baby girl into the car and drove off to All Children's Hospital in St. Petersburg. She had been fasting since 10:30 pm the night before, and had her last drink of liquid at 9:30 am. We arrived - right on time - at 10:45 am, as instructed. Registration went quickly - no problems. Admission & check in - nothin' to it. Then we were told to wait in the "game room" where we would be until going into pre-op "holding". So we went. And stayed. And stayed. And stayed.

Now, I understand that hospitals get backed up. Emergencies happen, things run behind, etc. But we hit the "game room" at 11:15, prepared for a 12:45 adenoidectomy. I use the words "game room" in quotes because it really wasn't. God bless the people who hired some 40 year old to set up that room, but please! They had 2 gaming consoles. According to Bart, they were "Play Station 1"s, which came out about 10 years ago. They have since been followed up with PS2 ,and now the PS3. Point being that the games were out of date. And half the gaming consoles didn't work. Oh - and the walls were painted with lovely murals: Looney Tunes, the Flintstones, and the Jetsons. Hello? I'll bet you if you stood 50 kids in front of that mural and told them they'd get $100 if they could name 4 of the characters, NO ONE would be able to do it. Hell - I'm not sure I even remember all the damned Flintstones characters, and I used to watch them on TV! How long has it been since the Jetsons were on? 15 years? They should really update that stuff to Dora, Spongebob, and any or all of the Pixar characters. There was a TV which was playing the Disney channel, which was good. Except that they put it on the wall in front of the passageway, meaning every single person who came into the room had to walk in front of the TV. There were a few books, and some little ride-on cars, but not really enough to occupy a kid for more than about 45 minutes. Which was OK, because I brought the backpack of fun to the hospital: 2 new Geronimo Stilton books, an animal activities book, 2 ponies, a pad of paper, and a box of crayons. This kept Karlin occupied and distracted for while...

But not for the 3 hours it took us to get moved into holding. At this point the poor thing hadn't had food for 16 hours, and nothing to drink for almost 6 hours. She was thirsty and cranky and hungry and scared. We went into the holding room at 2:25, prepared for a 20 minute wait. It was more like 45 minutes. FINALLY at 3:15, they took her back. She was SO BRAVE. Bart and I were saying goodbye and we loved her and yadda yadda yadda. She was chatting up the nurses and the anesthesiologist. We went to a little "conference room" to wait, and exactly 12 minutes later the doctor came in. He said it had gone great, and that her adenoids were huge. She should see a vast improvement in her ability to breathe and her quality of speech. (Note: Dr. Dickhead has been downgraded back to Dr. Important. We instructed him - with the support of Karlin's pediatrician - NOT to put tubes in her ears. And he didn't, and surprisingly didn't give us any crap about it. His nurses and PA all seemed amused that we were going against Dr. Important's instructions, but when they brought out the revised consent, it just read "adenoidectomy." )

Anyway - 4 hours of waiting for a 12 minute surgery. At least it was over. So the nurse told us to go grab a bite and a drink, and come back in 20 minutes. So we came back in 20 minutes and went into the post-op room, expecting Karlin to be wheeled in any minute. But 5 minutes went by. Then 10. Then 20. Just when we were starting to wonder what in the hell was taking so long, a nurse came in and said "Mom, I need to to come back to recovery with me." Bart and I both stood up, but the nurse said "no - just mom." So as we're walking back to the recovery room, I asked what was wrong. She says "I don't know - they just told me to come and get you and bring you back." Insert panic HERE. So we go through the doors, and there's my baby. My tiny baby lying there in the bed - hysterical. Apparently, she didn't come out of the anesthesia very well, and freaked out. She was as white as a sheet, her eyes and lips were all red and swollen, and she was full-out panicked. She was also coughing like she had TB, and couldn't really talk.

Now, anyone who knows mw knows these things about me: I have no poker face. I am a terrible liar. Most time, you can read anything I am thinking or feeling right across my face. So how hard was it for me to smile and be brave and reassuring to her, when inside I was freaking out too, and really wanted to cry? That was one of the single most difficult moments of my life as a parent so far. And I had questions that I couldn't ask the nurse, because I didn't want to scare Karlin any more. Basically this is what I found out: she had come out of the anesthesia disoriented and upset. She was crying for me, and when they couldn't get her to settle down, they came and got me. She was in an unusual amount of pain, so they gave her - hang on to your hats for this one - morphine. So when she was a little cloudy waking up, now she was downright loopy. And she had developed a "croupy" cough, which was concerning them. They wanted to keep her back there for 30 more minutes to monitor her on the pain meds, and wanted to put her on a humidifier for the cough. So for more than a half hour, I sat there and talked to her, gave her sips of water, rubbed her forehead and held her hand. It was awful. I kept thinking - "Why am I back here? I suck at this! BART is the good, solid, calm one! He should be here!" I did manage - with one hand - to text Bart to fill him in. Otherwise he''d have been in the post-op room freaking out himself. Finally, we moved into post-op. She started to get her color back a bit, and was eating a popsickle. She had to keep the humidifier on for awhile, but was still really incoherent. She finally dozed off for 45 minutes, and the nurse said when she woke up if she wasn't coughing we could go home. She woke up about 5:30, crying. When we asked what was wrong - was anything hurting? - she finally said in a loud, croaky voice "I WANT TO GO HOME!" The nurse said "Alrighty, then - let's get that IV out!" Bart went to go get the car, and I asked her if she wanted a wheelchair ride, or if she wanted me to carry her. She asked me to carry her. At that point I would have carried her to the moon if she asked me to.

She slept all the way home. When we got her into the house, so woke up long enough to have a drink of water, ask to be on the couch, and look at the flowers and webkin my mom had sent her. Then she passed out again. She slept for an hour and a half solid, then woke up again just long enough to drink a little. at 10:30, we moved her up into our bed, put her in clean pjs, and she woke up again. This time, she actually looked somewhat lucid. She ate about 1/2 cup of soft cereal, then passed out again. We had to give her medicine at Midnight, and again at 6:00 am.

Bart and I were totally unprepared for how long that whole mess would take, and by the bad condition she was in coming out of the surgery. NO ONE told us it would be like that. We were really worried about her. Thankfully, when she woke up Friday morning, she was back. She ate about 200 pounds of soft cereal during the day, and although her voice is still a little raspy and she has a sore throat when she swallows, she is probably 80% recovered.

Before Karlin had this operation, SO MANY PEOPLE said things to me like "oh - there's nothing to it". or "It's a breeze" or "my kid practically danced out of the hospital" or "my kid ate a whole pizza that very night." Guess what? There was A LOT to Karlin's surgery. It WASN'T a breeze. Karlin STILL doesn't feel much like dancing. And she couldn't stay conscious long enough to eat anything that evening.

I can tell you this, though...there is a tiny little part of me that is so honored that she asked for me, and not Bart. Most girls know that the bond between a daddy and his little girl is a special one. That is even more so with Karlin and Bart. They are so much alike, and sometimes I feel like I'm on a different team. Don't get me wrong -- I am not jealous, and I am so glad they have that special relationship. But a tiny part of me is glad that - on some level - she still needs me. Even if she doesn't really know it.

Today is mother's day, and I am so thankful. I am thankful that my baby is OK. I am so thankful that I somehow found the strength to get her through that, and to get me through that. I hope that the memory of her in that recovery room - it's stuck in my head - goes away soon.