Mr. President

I realize this is a blog about my children, but every once in awhile, I do digress and speak slightly off topic. This is one of those occasions. In his first few days in office, our beloved President has seen fit to make abortion his number one pressing issue. With the state of our country's economy, he finds no better way to spend money (besides the most expensive innaugaration ever) than to give money so that the international community can perform abortion. In addition to this, he has lifted the ban on partial birth abortions and extended it to include killing children in abortion mishaps. Read more about this in the following articles since I am not a political commentator.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/04/01/AR2008040102197.html

http://www.foxnews.com/politics/first100days/2009/01/23/obama-lift-ban-overseas-abortion-funding/

He states that he wouldn't want his daughter to be punished for a crisis pregnancy. Punishment? Interesting philosophy on pregnancy and the miracle of life. This is the man we voted for? Thanks so much "We the People."

Christmas Photo with Santa

Yay, I finally remembered to post the Christmas Photo with Santa. Here it is!






Left to right: Dylan, Hunter (saying Cheese!), Gabrielle, Santa, Alexandria, and Savanah

For a Laugh... The Mom Song

Mommying 101.. Random ramblings

Sorry, I still haven't posted that all important picture of the kids with Santa. It seems these days, I am full of good intentions with lack of follow through. In my "quiet moments" such as these, I am being tapped gently on the arm by a little part womanesque part cherubic 2.7 year old (to be more specific), somewhat impatiently. The tapping turns more into slapping than tapping in the course of 5 seconds. "Mommy. Mommy. I have booboo." I resign to the interruption, giving her a kiss on the wound - that magical miracle cure that somehow erases all booboos.

Then I am interrupted by the sound of little feet traveling across the floor at a frenzied pace, laughing and that always means trouble. One glance confirms that there is contraband. One has a bottle of vinegar I use to mop the floor and the other has a spray bottle of Fabuloso he is squirting here and there. Somehow, my out of shape body (at their doing) has turned into that of a marathon runner when I sense danger, as I sprint across the house catching them and watching them collapse in fits of giggles. Such fun. All I want to do is have a "quiet moment" and gather my thoughts. I can hear the pounding of the keys of the piano as Baby Einstein plays loudly in the background. They are entertained only moments and then return with the droning sound of "Mommy. Mommy." I have learned to tune it out a little too well. It's as if I were a 10 year old zoning out on cartoons, ignoring the requests of a nagging mother. Reality sets in eventually and I respond to their requests.

It's 9pm now and they are still not in bed. This is the norm at my house. In a few minutes, I will have to grab a spoon and make idle threats. Fear will not be realized. They look at me with the spoon and the stern voice saying, "get in bed" and laugh. 'Silly woman... you won't actually follow through," they seem to be laughing. Even when I do follow through and smack a diaper covered buttocks, it doesn't carry any sting. It's all fun and games here!

The whole point of this post was to discuss my disorganization and lack of follow through. I have digressed. As you can see, my thoughts are not even organized. As if the disorganization of my thoughts here are not enough, I can assure you there are further examples. I make lists of things to do and then do everything NOT on the list. I guess you can blame me for the depletion of trees in the rain forest.

My checkbook is unbalanced. My purse is full of receipts I intended to enter, but then forget to. I lose some and figure, what's the point? Before I know it, I am close to overdraft, rushing to the bank to cover the yet to be posted items before it's too late. This year, I only managed to get a handful of Christmas cards out before Christmas. I have intended for the last 2 days to send out the remaining cards saying "Belated Happy New Year" but by the time they will actually get out, they will be "Belated Happy Valentine's Day" cards with a Christmas feel. Ah well.

I think back to my college years, which wasn't too long ago. I could of possibly had a transient mental health disorder, but it would have to have been persistent to be diagnosable. Yet, I felt incredibly sane compared to now. I was obsessed with succeeding. I NEEDED versus wanted to get all A's. Other than exercise (yes I once exercised obsessively, I had no life to speak of, living only for the praise of the red A on the paper that I had deliberated over and refined repeatedly until I had produced my best efforts. Other college students were having fun partying, only concerning themselves with the production of a paper 12 hours before the deadline. They would pull an all nighter to produce the desired passable piece of work. Ah, those were the days. I was at the top of my game. Mentally, I was the sharpest I would ever be and the most organized I have been in my life. I am but a remnant of that oh so driven diva. Disorganized would be an adjective to aspire to. I am the complete epitome of the phrase - total chaos.

I don't share this to sound erudite, nor am I some kind of Mensa snob. I certainly am and always will be flawed, like most people. Unlike a few, I am aware of those flaws too. Let me just idealize for a moment, remembering a time when I could actually complete a to do list. That was before kids though.

Having kids is in some ways the best thing that could happen to a person. I feel extremely fortunate to have these little lives in my responsibility. They are the cutest and well I could fawn over all that they do all day long. Case in point: When I arrived home tonight, I was greeted by Gabrielle with the declaration "Mommy, I went peepee in the potty" very clearly and concisely in the toddler speak way. It melted me.

Even the annoyances can be cute. Yet, I think they should come with not only instructions, but the Serenity prayer. They can reduce the smartest person to a blithering idiot. So far, my life with kids is going right on cue, according to Bill Cosby's discourse on parenting.

I repeat myself nonstop. Everything is repetitive though: TV shows, ABC's, Numbers, Books, commands/demands. I am even forced to listen to the same song nonstop. "Right Now" by Akon is my least favorite song in the world at this moment. If I met him, I would ask him to annunciate his words better because even after 1000 times and counting listening to "I wanna make love right naw naw naw" I still can't distinguish what he is saying in several parts. Does he say "You were my homey, lover, friend" or "you were my only love girlfriend?" I guess I could google it, but it would take the last piece of mystery out of the song that my children insist on listening to and singing the last word of every stanza to on a daily basis. Please don't judge me for allowing my 2 year olds to listen to this song. You would let them to if you were listening to their screaming and incessant begging to listen to the one song they know the words to that isn't produced by Barney. This isn't one single child. This is a chorus of screaming and not in tune!

In the course of writing this blog, a mere 20 minutes, I have arisen and responded to the needs of children I put to bed more than an hour ago at a minimum, 15 times. I have kissed a booboo (as you know), confiscated the contraband, changed a dirty diaper, redressed a naked child, watched them swing Elmo together and count together, redirected them to bed repeatedly, answered the phone, hit rewind and replayed the same DVD in each room, taken a child to the potty, chased and threatened kids with a spoon, and read a book. I have also managed to put at least a few coherent sentences together. I will finish out the night with paperwork leftover from work today, rummaging for something to eat, and probably hitting rewind and play a couple more times.

Just
Another Day in the life of the Ewing Crew!