Governor Paterson's New BFF

To quote my favorite three-year-old neighbor, "What the ?" I just learned today that New York Governor David Paterson plans to appoint Caroline Kennedy to the NY Senate seat currently occupied by Secretary of State-designate Hillary Clinton. Caroline Kennedy! That's right, a woman whose credentials and qualifications can be summed up in one word: Kennedy. Caroline is about as qualified for this position as I am. She is a professional fundraiser and she is darn good at it. Her work on non-profit organizations has drawn millions in revenue. She helped raise over $65 million dollars for the New York City public schools alone. Her name is power and she knows how to wield it. However admirable her volunteer work is, it's ridiculous to say this qualifies her for appointment to the Senate. And so here we sit, twenty minutes after Sarah Palin was savagely beaten down and exposed as unqualified to run for national office, only to witness another absurdly unqualified woman, not be put up for vote, but instead, appointed to one of the most powerful positions in the land. Our citizenship met Sarah Palin, judged her weak, and voted accordingly. At least she could boast of being a successful governor! Caroline has nothing but her rich heritage and yet, she'll be 1 of 100 senators deciding the fate of our nation during this crucial moment in time. Ludicrous!

So, why would Patterson make such a preposterous appointment when there are countless elected public servants in the state of New York who actually have merit and ideas to contribute to the Senate? (By the way, everyone is sentient to the patronizing stance that it must be a woman who replaces Sen. Clinton. Offensive to the nth degree!) Well, see above paragraph. Patterson is purchasing Caroline Kennedy's fundraising potential and will no doubt cash in his premium two years from now when he runs for re-election. Caroline will dutifully make the phone calls and cheerfully host the dinners to garner millions of dollars for Patterson (and other Democratic incumbents). Because the exchange of goods will not actually occur until 2010, Patterson will get away with this outrageous mockery of serving the public good.

And to think that Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich will be sitting alone at the defense table. Patterson should be right next to him. The arrogance of these men, to think they can put their personal interest above that of the state's is, as Dan Carlin so aptly argued, treasonous. How do these people get elected? Wait, come to think of it, Paterson was not elected governor, but instead took office in the wake of the Governor Spitzer scandal. The people of New York are actually three steps away from selecting Hillary Clinton's replacement. In light of that, wouldn't it be all the more prudent for Paterson to appoint a New York state senator whom the people have elected at some level, showing some civic trust and endorsement? Democracy is wasted on those who are too indolent to elect respectable leaders. Shame!

Buster & Lucille

Since his entrance into this world, Eli has been acutely aware of his raiment. He cried all the way home from the hospital and I have since decided that it was because he did not care for the particular color of his receiving blanket. As soon as he was physically able, he began to dress himself and his primary language skills were honed as he artfully described what he would and would not wear. For example, last spring I pulled out a pair of brightly colored short pants. Eli took one look at them and said, "No thanks. Those look like a clown." I looked at the shorts again, and realized, he was absolutely correct. (Yet, to my recollection, he has never actually seen a clown.)

Well, Eli's fastidious attitude took a hilarious turn this last summer. One morning he decided, from that day forth, he would dress like me. And so he would wait until I dressed for the day and then he would go through his drawers to find a matching outfit. If I wore jeans, he wore jeans; when I wore cargo pants, he wore cargo pants. White shirt-white shirt, running shoes-running shoes, belt-belt. Color, pockets, buttons and length had to be the same. (I should mention how shocked I was to discover the similarities in our wardrobe. My entire collection consists of various shades of blue, white, gray, tan, and brown. It was frighteningly easy for Eli to "match" me 99% of the time.) Eventually Eli was calling out to me from his bedroom, "Are we wearing blue shorts?" and "Are we wearing our sandals today?" On the rare occasion I had to dress like a woman (rare, indeed!), Eli would sob and beg me to change into something he could match. The hardest day of the week, apparel-wise, was Sunday. For three or four weeks in a row, Eli pleaded with me not to wear a skirt but instead to wear brown pants like him. Those Sundays we left for church with poor Eli sulking in the back seat. He acted as though I had broken some filial pact and betrayed our beautiful dress-code. And so, you can only imagine his delight when last Sunday I pulled out a sweater that is merely a blacker, larger version of one of his church sweaters. He sang songs all the way to church and proudly sat on my lap the entire meeting. 'Tis indeed a magical time of year when even on Sunday we get to "match."

Did Paul Revere Really Make the Midnight Ride?

The girls and I were enjoying a rather smart and patriotic discussion about the first Thanksgiving and I was pleased to see they are getting old enough to grasp the significance of this national holiday. As we talked I could see they were beginning to better comprehend the sacrifice and strength of those brave passengers on the Mayflower. We talked about that first harsh winter in Plymouth, how one-half of the company died, dropping the numbers from 102 to 53 and yet, come spring, not one of the remaining pilgrims chose to return to England. What a valiant and hearty group. Michal asked what sickness had killed so many and I admitted I wasn't sure but it was likely some type of pneumonia or tuberculosis. And then Sam piped up, "No, it wasn't pneumonia. It was small pox. And we gave it to them on purpose!"

Needless to say, the beauty of the moment was shattered and I had the strained pleasure of clarifying Sam's comment. (I am still concerned by her use of the word "we.") Anyway, a few short hours later, my precious, not-so-innocent, daughters and I sat down to enjoy a lovely turkey dinner having just discussed (ever so lightly) the ugliest and darkest chapter of this nation's history. Ah, parenthood.

This begs the question, how does my six-year-old know about small pox? (And it's application as an agent of biological warfare in the New World.) Next thing she'll be telling us George Washington never chopped down his father's cherry tree and Lincoln did not walk ten miles to return three pennies. History is getting frightfully honest at the elementary school level. One thing is sure, whoever told Sam about small pox better not step on the wonderment that is Santa Claus.

Womyn!

While listening to Slate Magazine Daily Podcast, I was tipped off to this article by Rebecca Traister in Salon magazine and it has me tickled to the point of giddy laughter. Feminists wholeheartedly supported the Obama/Biden ticket (obviously Sarah Palin's XX was trumped by her pro-life stance. Don't let the "W" in NOW mislead you, they support one type of woman, not all women.) And now I am having an absolute ball watching the subsequent hand-wringing as staunch feminists observe Michelle Obama morph from a high powered, strong, career woman into America's "First Mom."

(Before continuing, I'd like to clarify that I think the First Lady is a non-issue. I had not even glanced into Michelle's profile until I started reading this chorus of frustrated female journalists. Consequently, I checked out Michelle's vita, and let me just say, I was blown away. This woman is amazing! Her personal, professional, academic, civic and parenting lives impress me beyond words. She is indeed a woman of conviction and action and she has my utmost respect.)

As Michelle's husband ascends to the oval office, she must, by some feministic law, fall back to 'second fiddle.' Because of Barack's success, in the words of Traister, Michelle has begun to "lose her own private, very successful, very high-profile and very independent identity" and is instead becoming an "extension of her husband." In More magazine, Geraldine Brooks writes that watching Michelle is a "depressingly retrograde narrative of stifling gender roles and frustrating trade-offs... it is her husband's career, his choices that have shaped her life in the last decade." So now, this powerful, strong, intelligent and successful woman has come to stand in more prominently than anyone could have imagined for the shortcomings of feminism. Why? Because she is leaving her influential job as a lawyer at the University of Chicago Hospitals to follow her husband to Washington. And more egregious, to play mommy to her two young daughters. They want to define Michelle as a hard-working, prosperous career woman. Michelle is stepping up to take on the role of wife and mother.

Michelle's interviews of late have shifted from policy initiatives and international relations to which DC schools she's considering for her children. There is less reference to her as Barack's "closest advisor" (his terms) and now she finds herself assigned the task of choosing the White House puppy. And have you seen her clothes? Her high powered, tailored professional ensembles have been replaced by floral prints and airy sun dresses. Whether all this is by her own choice or by urgings of the DNC, Michelle's image is softening. And I get the impression she's happy and enjoying this time. She seems to smile more and relax when talking about her daughters and her eyes sparkle when she brags on her husband. This transition from one female role to another is frustrating her feminist counterparts. Feminists hate women to be traditionally feminine. (Again, how could they dismiss Sarah Palin so easily?)

So, what do I have to say about this? Bravo! I love to see strong, educated, successful women CHOOSE to be full-time wives and moms. I think any career, no matter how meaningful, and believe me, Michelle's work is consequential and far reaching, can be put on hold for five, eight or ten years. Michelle has chosen to honor her marital vows and serve as a mate to her husband. She is respecting the role of mother, something that all women should seriously reflect on before bringing a child into this hectic world. The Obamas are young and Michelle can yet go out and save Chicago's south side, but first, she must protect and buoy up her own daughters and her own marriage. This, during a time which will undoubtedly be a severe test of unity. Barack has some hard times ahead and having his "closest advisor" and ally with him, in the residency, is the most responsible and loving thing Michelle can do. (Think how differently Bill Clinton's legacy would have played out if his wife were nearer to him and his heart during his presidency.)

I'm not saying that mothers shouldn't work outside the home. I think women are a tremendous asset to society as a whole. They are invaluable contributors to the workplace as lawyers, doctors, teachers, engineers, politicians, every field, really. What I am railing against is the feminist idea that choosing to be home is somehow a diminutive role. Women are free to chose, so long as they don't chose to stay home. Homemaking is, somehow, a lower use of our faculties and talents. So, instead of respecting Michelle's right to select this role for herself, temporary as it may be, they are throwing her under the bus as one more lumpy, traditional First Lady.

Now I know I sound like a huge Tammy Wynette fan and you are all hearing "Stand By Your Man" crooning in the background. I'm not that girl. I am, however, a big proponent of partnership and responsibility. When you marry, you merge and become one. When you have a child you commit to raising that child in security and love. One of you, mom or dad, needs to be there, physically and emotionally, at all times. That's being a responsible parent. From what I'm seeing and reading, Michelle senses this and understands that her husband is going to be a little preoccupied for the next few years, crucial years for their daughters and their marriage. And despite the feminist outrage, Michelle is doing what she judges best for her, Barack and the girls. Isn't that what feminism was supposed to be about? Freedom to choose what is best for you and those you love?

In her many roles, Michelle's greatest contribution to this country as the First Lady might just be two grounded, intelligent, and happy young women. Her girls may grow up to change the world, or simply change diapers. Regardless, they will have been nurtured by a loving and wonderful mother and that's never regrettable.

Traisters closing paragraph: "And now, she [Michelle] is in the unenviable yet deeply happy position of being a history-maker whose own balancing act allowed her husband the space to make his political career zip forward, his books sing, his daughters healthy and beautiful, and his campaign succeed. In having done all this, Michelle Obama wrought for herself a life (temporarily, at least) of playing second fiddle. Then again, did she have a choice?"

I simply cannot think of a sadder, more detached view of womanhood. Anyone who has ever been in a loving, secure and equitable marriage knows that Traister just doesn't get it. She's straining to hear a single violin where there is a harmonious duet.

Stop It!

I just finished a very hard run (my weekly time trial against Keith) and because this particular trail run was so difficult (wet, slippery leaves!), my mind drifted to things that really bug me right now so here is a list of five things that people must stop:

(1) Honking at runners: Running, for me, requires a fair amount of concentration. I listen to some in depth podcasts or my favorite music, and those combined with trying not to trip, take all my focus. Few things tick me off more than (and I believe I speak for all runners here) a startling horn blast followed by a stupid beauty pageant wave. Trust me when I tell you that my return wave is fueled by loathing. Stop it!

(2) Polling foreign nations on our presidential election: I understand that the world is shrinking and we are becoming a global society. However, I personally couldn't care less what the Australians think about my presidential choices. Could they possibly understand the issues better than me, a citizen of this nation? How is it that we ask their opinions? If you can find me a German, Egyptian, Kenyan or Canadian who wants to see Americans more free, more industrious, more safe, more rich, and more stable then I'd be inclined to listen. But I've lived abroad and at this point, my perception is that the rest of the world would love to see America drop down a notch or two to "even things out" on the world stage. And so their interest in the United State's future does not exactly parallel mine. This headline just in -- "Mother Russia supports Obama." Shocking!

(3) Posting an automatic playlist on your website/blog: I have iTunes and I don't need your site blaring at me when I check it out. I want to read your comments and see your pictures but attack me with your favorite Kenny Chesney song again, and I'm done.

(4) Fussing over getting everyone to vote: Of course, any person who wants to vote should be provided the means and opportunity to vote. We should make it as convenient and appealing as possible. Voting is one's right and privilege. Still, there are a good number of people out there who will not vote. And, for some reason, there is a push to get everyone to the voting booth. I don't get it. If you care, you have likely invested some mental energy in studying the issues (or at least "an issue") and have something to vote for or against. But having a part of the populace walk into the booth and start pulling levers because they were told to do so by some voter registration group, or an MTV chant, or a hyped Spielberg commercial, just can't be good. Surely both sides can agree that an uninformed voter is more dangerous than a non-voter. So, if your main reason for registering to vote is to get that free pack of cigarettes from ACORN, by all means, enjoy the smokes but please don't place your thumb print on the ledger come election day.

(5) Returning to Standard Time: I simply cannot understand the reason for this tradition. The various websites I visited investigating this annoying habit all noted that since it's inception in 1918 Daylight Savings Time has been nothing but positive. Stated reasons for DST included: less violent crime, fewer traffic accidents, safer trick-or-treating (yes, this was listed on numerous sites, including the official U.S. Naval Observatory site), energy conservation, and increased voter turnout. What's not to love? So why the insistence on returning to Standard Time at 2am on the first Sunday in November. All I know is this practice favors morning people and discriminates against me and my fellow night people. Standard Time Act makes for a darker, heavier, more depressing winter season and I want to know what it will take to repeal this act. More importantly, how did this vital issue escape the 2008 Presidential debates?

I warned you that my entries would contain more angst than usual. Ten days and no sugar!

Life is a Musical

Keith and I recently attended a Parent-Teacher Conference to discuss Samantha's progress in school. Sam's teacher had nothing but accolades and repeatedly praised Sam's cheerful, sunny disposition. But teacher did have one thing Sam could work on: less singing. Apparently Sam sings while working at her desk. This is rather unobtrusive and can be overlooked as long as Sam sings low but when she gets to the chorus she has a tendency to swell. Sam's teacher said she will often let Sam continue singing until the children around her show signs of being disturbed and then she will simply tap Sam on the shoulder, bringing her back to reality. Teacher admitted that Sam is doing this unconsciously because she blushes upon interruption and is quick to apologize. It is also worth mentioning that many of Sam's songs are personal compositions because she will actually sing about what she's working on at her desk (insect life-cycle, fire safety, phonic coding, just to name a few). I blame Zac Efron.

So, as a parent, how do I help Sam break this harmonious habit? More important, why should I?

Unsung Heroes

My dear friend discovered Fuzziwig's Candy Factory in Michigan City and while there with her two sons last week she grabbed these adorable Halloween suckers for my children. She took them home, packaged them delicately to prevent melting or breaking in transit, and mailed them from Indiana to Utah. Who does that? All that effort, three little suckers! Only a person who values friendship above time and kindness over convenience.
Sherri, the treats charmed my children immensely and you reminded me, yet again, how blessed I am to be your friend. Thoughtful gestures like this are why you are one of my heroes. And I miss you something terrible.

Detox Today Botox Tomorrow

Last month I ran two marathons. (Note the intentional absence of an exclamation point. I used to announce that sort of running feat with pride but as I have aged, I have become more perceptive of other peoples' response to my announcements and I've learned that the vast majority of people are not only unimpressed by one completing a marathon, but honestly find it stupid. Where I would expect an awestruck "Wow," I usually get a perplexed "Why?" I am no longer deflated by this response and accept that only a select few find completing a marathon impressive. Most of those people are, fortunately, related to me.) Back to my point, after five months of marathon training, which involved upwards of 50 miles per week, plus lifting weights, I have become accustomed to eating whatever I want, whenever I want. Aye, there's the rub. Since April I've eaten like a teenage boy and now that my marathons are over I run the risk of morphing into what those teenage boys ruthlessly ridicule. So, to fend off their mockery, I have to alter my eating, and soon. My beloved mother knows me well and has therefore challenged me to a month sans sugar. She invited Keith, Jessi, and my dad to this test of will and the winner gets a financial reward. So, here I sit drinking my Lipton Green Tea and scowling at a plate of fresh-cut veges while my mind continues to drift to the heavily-frosted, homemade, birthday cake sitting in my fridge. (Which brings me to an ethical dilemma, do I let my children polish off the remainder of the cake, overloading their small bodies with sugar, or do I stick it down the disposal, displaying an attitude of waste, as well as disrespect to the baker, who is me. I must consider my position carefully because Halloween candy is going to rain down into this ethical bucket within the week.)

I tell you about my sugar detox program only to warn you that my next few blog entries might be a little more cycnical, rude, or sarcastic than normal. When I don't get my regular dose of candy, I tend to become a little cranky. (Just in time for the election.) The good news is I will not get nearly as crusty as Keith will without his daily Pepsi. The children will still find me the more pleasant of their two nurturing options and, in the end, their hugs and kisses are really the ultimate sugar fix. (Especially if they have trace remains of that cake on their lips.)

Cheers.

Snap

Why blog? This has been a recurring discussion in my mind for the past six years. Blogging is such a flagrant act of narcissism and, though I quite like myself, I don't openly admit it. For some reason today is different and I'm textually announcing that I think you all want to hear what I have to say about stuff. And, you want to see pictures of my kids.

It would seem, however, that I am not fully prepared to accept my own egotism because I have enlisted the other Big J to join me on this blog. Sharing a blog divides the conceit in half and I feel better about that. Besides, as a stay-at-home mom with three young children, I spend a lot of time thinking about things. Jessi spends that time doing things. I think we two will make a good balance. I just need to convince her to get off her river raft, or mountain bike, or snow skis long enough to compose something.

As for the blog title, I thought an international edge was necessary because Jessi and my musings are likely to be provocative, insightful, and extensive. We will undoubtedly draw an international audience over time and I want all to feel welcome.

Cheers! (A la votre)