Mom's The Word

I spent several days looking for a poem or a song to say what I wanted. Then I saw this. Leave it to the marketing team for a jewelry store to portray everything it is to be, and to have a mother in a mere 30 second commercial using only one word. Grab the kleenex. . . .

Happy Mother's Day to everyone!

Click here to see the video on You Tube.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yAaHTypIZhE

Things I Love. . . .

This week I'm showcasing the fabulous, the fantastic, the irreplaceable Zip It Drain Cleaner! What is so wonderful about this mere piece of plastic, you ask? Well folks, this is no mere piece of plastic. If you look closely at the picture you will see the upward facing plastic barbs down both sides of the Zip It. Now it is these patented barbs that are the key to the amazing functionality of the Zip It. You simply insert the Zip It into your gunky, clogged, slow-running drain and then pull to remove the grotesque amounts of hair, dirt and shampoo sludge that is keeping your drain from its full potential. What this simple tool removes from your drain will make you vomit and cheer for joy. . . It is THAT good. Seriously folks, fire those expensive plumbers, throw away those harsh chemicals, the Zip It Drain Cleaner is the only tool you need. Don’t believe me? See for your self by following the link below to watch a How To video. Never again will you wade in ankle-deep murkiness or throw money away on an unnecessary plumber. The Zip It Drain Cleaner will save the day!

Watch The Video!

Learning Curve. . .

Burning your tongue on your morning coffee should be considered just cause for heading back to bed. Then again, it happens to me so often that it may be more of a sign that I'm an idiot than it is a precursor to a bad day.

Bridging Science and Religion. . .

Adam: What happens if the weatherman is sick?

Me: What do you mean?

Adam: If the weatherman is sick how does the weather happen?

Me: Oh, well the weatherman doesn't actually make the weather happen. He is a scientist that looks at maps and pictures and then tells us what the weather will be like.

Adam: No, the weatherman sends a code to God and then God pushes a button to make the weather happen. So what happens if the weatherman is sick?

Me: I guess God would just have to handle things on his own for a day.

Step One. . .

This quote by Gandhi was part of Dalai Mama's latest blog at Wondertime. It supports my belief that if children grow up healthy and fed and loved, it is much less probable that hate will take root in their hearts.

"If we are to reach real peace in this world and if we are to carry on a real war against war, we shall have to begin with children; and if they will grow up in their natural innocence, we won't have to struggle, we won't have to pass fruitless idle resolutions, but we shall go from love to love and peace to peace until at last all the corners of the world are covered with that peace and love for which consciously or unconsciously the whole world is hungering." - Gandhi, quoted in the book Above All, Be Kind.

Sunshine On My Shoulders. . . .

Finally, the persistant rain - and the unusually piercing cold - stopped long enough for us to venture outside this past weekend. We bared our arms in short-sleeve shirts and dug out the sunglasses from the "Summer" box at the top of the bedroom closet and set out for the Portland Saturday Market. It's embarrasing to admit, but I've lived here ten years and this was our first visit. We waded through the crowds checking out the variety of wares (and people) and gorged ourselves on a plethora of fair food including the sweet goodness of fresh kettle corn. Adam was amazed by the street performer especially the one juggling knives. . . . "Oh my gosh, that is sooo dangerous!"

It's afternoons like this that get you through another long set of rainy days that lie ahead. Well, this and the costco travel magazine.

Sleep Monster. . .

We recently moved Jamie into her “big girl bed” and at first she seemed to take to it rather well. She might get up a couple of times right after we leave her room and occasionally would cry for a few minutes, but compared to the year-long hurricane of frustration we experienced with Adam, she was a breeze. Was. Jamie has now changed tactics and is taking more of a “Gitmo” approach to parental frustration. . . . sleep deprivation.

As I said, she goes to sleep relatively easily and her peaceful face and deep breathing lures one into believing all is settled for a night of restful bliss. That is, until somewhere around 1:00am when something silent and looming draws you from your deepest sleep. There is no obvious reason for your awakening; no crying, no scrambling on to the bed, but there is something. Something is in the room with you. And as you become fully conscious to the point of opening your eyes you see it; standing there face to face with you in the dark, its eyes mere inches from yours glinting green from the reflection of the digital alarm clock. And as you fight to slow your startled heart, it speaks a single monotone word. “Hello?” You close your eyes in a feeble attempt to make it disappear, but there is no use. It is already patting your face with a clammy hand requesting, “Up”. So you drag your lifeless limbs from the comforts of your bed and lead it back to its own domain to sit and wait door side, head bobbing into uncontrollable sleep until its god-awful wailing turns into simple stirring and you can be sure that it’s safe to return to bed. . . . at least for a couple more hours.

This has gone on for days now, sometimes several times a night; sometimes at the five o’clock hour when you are miserably aware there is no possibility of her – or you - returning to sleep. It is at this hour that you then must play with her until the rest of the family rises and there is another adult with which to project your foul and sleep-deprived attitude upon.

I know all the new mothers I’m friends with are reading this and shaking their heads at how pathetically out of shape I am at this all night thing, but to all of you I say, SUCK IT! . . . . and go get me a Starbucks double-shot. I've done my time and now I want to go to sleep.

Things I Love. . .

I could pretend that I’m trying to pass on some kind of great wisdom or fabulousness ala Oprah, but honestly, I just figured showcasing things I’ve found, love and/or can’t do without would be good filler when I don’t have anything else to write about. And who knows, maybe you’ll find something you’ll end up loving as well. Just don’t expect to look under your chair and find said item tied up with a big red bow.

So here it is: the first installment of The Things I Love. . . .

I found this tea while rummaging in the break room at my office for something besides the usual offering of black sludge to stop the caffiene-deficient-induced cramps that were reducing my brain to the size of a small walnut. I was so pleasantly surprised that it has become a regular beverage of mine when the morning allows no time for a stop at Starbucks. It is sweet and spicy in just the right capacity which can be heightened even more by a splash of creamer. But I usually forgo that luxury not because of the added calories but because the only creamer available at work is the kind in the little individual plastic cups and there is something scary about creamer that can be kept at room temperature without curdling right there on the counter. But I digress.

This tea can usually be found in any regular grocery store, but if not can be ordered online at www.stashtea.com. Enjoy!

Getting The Most for our Pre-K Buck. . .

This morning while still snuggling in bed with Adam. . .

“So what did you learn for Kids Around The World Week yesterday at school?”

“We learned about Germany.”

“Oh, cool. What did you learn about Germany?”

“We learned that Germany used to be bad because they had a leader that was wrong so the Americans had to go and do a battle with them and the Americans won because they were stronger and now Germany is good.”

“Oh.”

Little Signs You're Doing Something Right. . .

Our recent spot of fabulous weather encouraged me to delve into the summer leftovers of kid’s clothes this weekend to see what still fits or what can be handed down. I love doing this. Between the hand-me-downs we get and our off-season clearance sale purchases, it's part rummage sale, part nostalgia – two of my great weaknesses.

As I dug through the large Rubbermaid tubs labeled “Big Clothes” I came across a T-shirt with “FOR SALE, My Sister” printed in a large, garage sale-type sign across the chest. Someone bought this for Adam when Jamie was born and being that it was a size 4/5, I had held onto it waiting for it to fit. It was still a tad on the large side but held it up to show Adam, reading to him what it said.

He just stared at me for a second and then said, “Why would a shirt say that?”

Obviously he didn’t understand so I tried to explain the joke. “You know how sometimes Jamie is really bugging you and you just want her to go away and leave you alone? Well, this is just a silly way of saying that. Its just pretend that you’d like to sell her so she can’t bug you anymore.”

He stared at me again, blinking, and then said, “Well, even when she’s bugging me I still love her.”

Of course. It’s moments like these that make up for all the times they crap in their pants.

Now With Less Commitment. . .

For those of you that may have been holding back comments because my blog required you to have a Google account to post, I say to you . . . . . "Be Free!" You can now comment annonymously until your heart's content. Please.

Archival Purge #2

Another little gem from the archives of my hard drive. This one a short piece I wrote for an online writing contest about the feelings of an inanimate object. Needless to say, I didn't win.


My dearest love,

Where did I go wrong? When did you stop needing me? When did you stop loving me? I once had all the answers, but now my heart is filled only with questions as to why we’ve parted ways. I thought I was everything to you. Was I not?
When you needed a plumber at 2am did I not have a name at the ready? When you couldn’t reach that last box of double-fudge brownies on the top shelf, did I not lay down at your feet? Did I not allow your endless, infantile doodling to tattoo my cover? And who, who, took the hit each time an insect dared to travel your walls? It was me. Every time, it was me. I’m the one that found your new gynecologist; I’m the one that knew who to call to when the car wouldn’t start and I’m the one that knows the number to your favorite Chinese take-out by heart, but apparently none of this matters anymore.

I’ve heard the whispers, the rumors. You’ve found some one new. Someone that isn’t so thick around the middle, that’s a little more portable. Yeah, I know I’m looking a little worn; a little tattered around the edges, but who wouldn’t after years of undying servitude? You gave me these creases, this wrinkled spine and now you’ve moved on. On to someone sleek and shiny who can give you answers at the push of a button. Well let me ask you this, you heartless wench, where will you be when the power goes out? Who will save you when your online sweetheart takes a dive? Don’t look at me. Your fingers have done the walking for the last time. I’ve done my duty and now I’m out of here. There was a time I would have burned my own pages just to warm your hands, but those days are gone. I will no longer allow myself to be used like an old phone book. I have more dignity than that.
Good luck in finding whatever it is you’re searching for out there. You’ll never find another love like mine. Never.

No longer your slave,

Dex

A Little Beauty!

Number three on our list of seven babies to be born within six months, but the first for my good friend Donelle and her husband Dan. May I introduce to you. . . .

Avery Isabelle

April 2nd, 2008
6lbs, 11oz 19.5in

Running With The Devil. . . .

While cleaning out folders on my hard drive today, I ran across a quote I had saved. It comes from the book Jesus and the Lost Goddess by Timothy Freke and Peter Gandy. When I opened it today it made me pause and think the way I remember it did the day I found it floating somewhere on the internet. About the abandoment and shame, the hate and torture, the bigotry and war that has come from organized religion throughout history. Each side fighting for moral superiority as if being right somehow ensures a place in the afterlife. Perhaps, as this quote eludes, the joke is on us. . . . .

“Religion is the Devil’s greatest achievement. In the guise of religion he has pulled off his most audacious coup. He has flagrantly masqueraded as God. He has had us bow down and worship him. He has had us commit every type of evil in the name of holiness. He has passed off his bigotry as God’s opinions. He has had us segregate humanity into the ‘ins’ and the ‘outs’, believers and non-believers, the saved and the damned. He has convinced us that God likes us but not them. And convinced them that God likes them but not us. An then, in a stroke of dark brilliance, he warns his faithful flock of sheep: ‘Be sure you do not heed to anyone but me, for the Devil is a wily wolf and he will surely trick you.’ “

Why?

New Kids on the Block reuniting

Story Highlights
Boy band New Kids on the Block one of biggest acts of late '80s, early '90s
Boston-based group's hits included "Hangin' Tough"
Group has new material; Donnie Wahlberg "had no interest [in] nostalgia tour"
BOSTON, Massachusetts (AP) -- They may be pushing 40, but the New Kids are returning to the block.
The boy band New Kids on the Block, which sold 70 million albums in the 1980s and early '90s, has reunited and plans to release a new album and go on tour. The reunion comes 20 years after the release of the group's multiplatinum album, "Hangin' Tough."
"The fan response to this has been incredible," band member Donnie Wahlberg told the Boston Herald.
Wahlberg said he was persuaded to get back together with his former bandmates -- Joey McIntyre, brothers Jordan and Jonathan Knight and Danny Wood -- when they decided to record new music. Wahlberg said he wrote 80 percent of the new material with McIntyre and Jordan Knight.
"I had no interest going out on a nostalgia tour and singing the same material," said Wahlberg, 38.
But he added: "We absolutely will do the old songs for sure."
Producer Maurice Starr formed the group in Boston in the 1980s, hoping to recreate the success he had with another teen group from Boston, New Edition.
At the height of their popularity, New Kids sold out world tours, marketed millions of dollars in merchandise and spawned a Saturday morning cartoon.
The group disbanded in 1994. Wahlberg has acted on television and in movies, while Jordan Knight, McIntyre and Wood released solo albums. Jonathan Knight became a real estate developer.

Copyright 2008 The Associated Press. All rights reserved.This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.


Find this article at: http://www.cnn.com/2008/SHOWBIZ/Music/04/03/people.newkids.ap/index.html

Numbers

An article that touched me. . . .

The Real Meaning of 4,000 Dead - TIME

Justice Failed. . . .

My parents asked me one day, quite bluntly, why I thought my hometown of Roseburg was such a horrible place to live. I was a bit shocked by the question and stammered out a response something along the lines of not thinking Roseburg was horrible per se, but wanting my children to have wider experiences and views than I grew up with and felt Portland gave them a better opportunity to do that. This recent news story helps illustrate my feelings.

You can read the whole story (which took place just north of Roseburg) here, but the gist of it is that three punks, apparently taking a break from mailbox baseball, knocked the turban off a Sikh truck driver coming out of a truck stop convenience store. They snatched the turban off this man’s head ran around the building and then sped away with it. They were identified through surveillance cameras and found a few days later. Charges were pressed, but a Douglas County grand jury failed to indict them on more than misdemeanor theft charges even though the law states that any act “committed due to the perception of a person's race, color, religion, national origin or sexual orientation” constitutes an intimidation felony charge. Somehow the people of Douglas County could not see that this man was targeted not as a random prank, but because of his religious attire. They should have asked themselves, would these “pranksters” have snatched the “Never forget 9/11” cap off a different truck driver’s head? Or tore a crucifix necklace from a different patron’s throat? I don’t think so. And think about how this may have played out if these roles were reversed. If a man in a turban had spontaneously and harassingly swiped a Dixie flag do-rag from the head of a trucker? The story would be about how at least one by-standing patron chased and apprehended the suspect and that he is now being held without bail pending a background check for ties to Al-Qaeda. And the whole county would be up in arms about the disrespect and disregard for our first amendment rights and the ability to display/wear articles representing “Southern Pride” and bigotry.

I know, this may seem like nothing more than a man that got his hat knocked off, a couple of idiots that lived up to their potential and then were rightly held accountable for the theft of a five-dollar turban. But to me, as someone who has been to this truck stop many times, who knows these guys, at least figuratively, as people in my high school, at my previous jobs and occasionally, in my family, it is more than that. It is attitude. It is the attitude that they do not have to respect someone that is different from them. It is the attitude that prevents this jury from seeing his turban for more than its monetary value. It is the attitude that will make the truck driver the punch line of their dinner-time jokes rather than the low-lifes that assaulted him. I am aware that these same attitudes can be found in my great metropolis to the north, and I am aware that I can’t protect my children from all acts of bigotry and racism. But I can keep from submerging them in it. And hopefully as they grow up they will see this story for what it is; not a tasteless prank but an act of humiliation.

Happy Birthday, Jamie!

Jamie, you turned two years old yesterday. Two years since my little blonde chickie came into the world. And as I watched your reflection in the side mirror and saw your soft curls blowing in the wind on our way to the park, I couldn’t help but think of all the wonderful things you are. But that was mostly because you were temporarily silent. Which was entirely the opposite of the car ride home in which you were screaming for more after being peeled from the playground equipment, your brother was singing an unintelligible song at the top of his lungs and somewhere in the background was the faint sounds of the new Jackson Brown acoustic CD we had all been peacefully enjoying twenty minutes before. And above this familial din, I could still hear the simple sigh from your father which I completely understood as, “Sweet Jesus, there is still three hours, a bath and a feeding until these things are in bed.”

And many more. . . . .

Alexander Adam. . .

. . . . and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Morning.

I don't like getting out of bed. . .

I don't like wearing adjustable pants. . . . (in his size the waist is adjustable by an elastic band and button inside)

I don't like when I have to take my rolling backpack down the front steps. . . .

I don't like it when there's no Chex cereal left at school. . . . .

Sigh. For the benefit of all of us I hope his day gets better.

Worth a Thousand Words. . . .

Create-A-Caption

Please submit your entries via comments.
(yes, that is her brother's underwear)