A minor rant

This seems like an odd post to follow up one about praise and thanksgiving, but I really need to go on a small rant for a moment. During my planning period this morning, I was in the copy room, and I was telling Earl Rowan about Dad. Earl Rowan is something of a lion here at Bradley. He is the color announcer for the football team, he has been teaching history here for decades, and he is just so full of life and energy. He also reminds me a lot of my dad. He is tall and thin and has a moustache, although he and Dad don't really look alike otherwise. But he is also the exact same age as Dad.

So Iwas standing there telling him all about Dad's diagnosis and prognosis, and he finished his copies and left. At this point (as I was still working on my copies), another teacher (who had overheard the entire conversation) stepped forward and essentially informed me that if Dad would just get the acid levels in his body corrected, that his cancer would be cured.

WHAT?!?

Are you serious? So it turns out that she's a big proponent of alternative medicine. I tried to be polite, and I smiled at her and said, "Well...I'm a biologist, and I really don't think there's anything to that. If there were, I think the world would have caught on and oncologists would be doing that instead of chemotherapy, since it's so brutal." Her response? "Cancer is a multibillion dollar industry. I don't think they want you to know about it."

Wow. So apparently, my father's oncologist (and the thousands of other oncologists around the nation) are all evil, money-hungry men and women who would rather see their patients die of this horrible disease than simply give them some alkaline water (which can be bought at health food stores, by the way!!!). Hmm. Who knew?

I mean, really. Was that appropriate? Am I just going off the deep end or what? It really kind of irritated me.

Praise and Thanksgiving

Daniel 2:23 I thank and praise you, O God of my fathers: You have given me wisdom and power, you have made known to me what we asked of you, you have made known to us the dream of the king.

1st Thessalonians 5:16-18 Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.





For the last few weeks, my family has been under a tremendous strain. Most of you know all that we have been going through (more on that in a moment). At many times, we have had to laugh (because it's either laugh or cry, so we choose to laugh) and mention Job's name. My mom especially has definitely felt like Job at times.



It occurred to me today that as I have shared our lives in this blog and my other one dedicated solely to Dad, I have only mentioned everything that has gone wrong in the last month or so. However, in the midst of all of this, there are also many things that have gone right, from the truly significant to the mundane. So in the spirit of thanksgiving from the above Bible verses, I thought I would review these things so that I don't give the impression that I am not aware of how deeply blessed my family is. I'll go ahead and recap all the bad things, and then mention the good things.



The BAD stuff:

• My dad has cancer. Terminal cancer. We found out November 25.


• My grandmother (who lives with my parents) entered the hospital New Year's Eve and is still there. We have stayed at her bedside nearly 'round the clock, as there is only a miniscule chance that she will ever recover.


• My mom had to put her beloved cat to sleep over the holidays after it was discovered that the cat has feline AIDS.


• During the recent flooding, my parents' basement flooded and all of the carpet had to be ripped out, as well as the padding.


• Laura and Eric have mono, and he is trying to teach and take care of their kids while Laura is at the hospital with our grandmother, and Laura is trying to take care of her kids, as well as Jack, the little boy she keeps, when she isn't sitting at our grandmother's bedside.


• I am juggling my job, two kids, and trying to help Mom with both Dad and my grandmother.


• I have a frozen water pipe in my house and it remains to be seen whether it will burst.


• Oh, yeah...my mom had to call Hospice twice in one day for two different patients--Dad and her mother.

Ok, that's a lot of bad stuff. I mean, it's a LOT of bad stuff. My poor mom is a walking zombie as she juggles all this.

But so much good has come from this. God tells us that we are to praise Him in all things, in spite of all things, and because of all things. So let's review the good.

The GOOD stuff:

• My parents have insurance.


• The nurses taking care of my grandmother are fabulous and amazing.


• One of the nurses taking care of my grandmother goes to church with my sister, and has been praying for my grandmother because of the prayer list, not even realizing she had her as a patient! How amazing! And what a blessing this nurse is.


• We have all learned what amazing, incredible, inspiring friends we have. When my parents' basement flooded, six of their friends gave up a Saturday to come rip the carpet out--AFTER four total strangers (men from Laura's church) showed up to wet-vac the water up and move furniture out of the way. Food is delivered to Mom and Dad's house on a regular basis. My parents' neighbors, Tim and Sherry--they cook, they do things around the house, they look for various medicines to ease some of Dad's symptoms--the long and short of it is that no one ever deserved friends or neighbors as amazing as they are, and it is so humbling to see how much they love Dad and our family. Laura has people from her church crawling out of the woodwork to watch her children so she can go to the hospital to relieve Mom, since Eric is smack in the middle of wrestling season and often can't be there to watch the kids.


• Laura and I have amazing, wonderful, incredible, understanding husbands. I have barely seen my kids in a week, and Mark has taken over everything without complaint. He picks them up, feeds them, plays with them, and puts them to bed. I know he wonders if he still has a wife, but I haven't heard a single complaint. Eric is the same. He is Mr. Mom to Emma and Luke.


• My grandmother ate a container of applesauce after taking no food whatsoever for an entire week.


• Mom has friends who have been coming to the hospital to sit with my grandmother to relieve her. These are wonderful women (Evelyn, Joyce, and my mother-in-law, Charlotte) who have given of their own time to help my mom out.


• My father is a Christian. This probably should have been the number one thing on my list, actually. We have no fear of losing him (other than our own selfishness) because we know he will be fine. He'll be up there giving God pointers on pulling catfish out of the river (I'm kidding, of course, but still...).


• My husband and I both still have jobs in this yucky economy. With everything that has happened, I can still be thankful for things like this. Gas prices have gone down, along with prices on many other goods, so things could be MUCH worse in the financial department.


• I have a warm house and plenty of clothing to put on in these frigid temperatures.


• My husband and I have cars that run and can get us where we need to go.


• Our children are healthy and happy.


• We have plenty to eat.


• Mark's parents are healthy and able to help with the grandkids.


• I found cute boots for Kate at Target for 75% off (I told you I was thankful for the mundane, too!). :)

• And finally, I am thankful that we are able to find humor in all of this (at times), and that no one has had a nervous breakdown as of yet. God seems to be providing the strength that we need to get through this, one day at a time.

We do still covet your prayers. God provides us with strength, yes, but still, this is not easy. But I did want to take a moment to express that I do have a thankful spirit through all of this. God is good.

My awesomeness can not be denied.

I went shopping yesterday and scored an 89-dollar pair of Michael Kors jeans at TJ Maxx for 40 bucks. Bonus! They are comfy and stretchy and look decent, which is saying a lot for me these days. So I pull the tags off this morning, put 'em on, and head out the door to get acquainted with my new students for the semester.

I'm up in front of class, yakking with them, in second period (I have first period planning), and suddenly, wayyyy in the back row, I see this hand go up. I call on the chick, and she says, "There's a sticker on your leg." So I look down, and yep. There it is. The big long clear sticker with the size on it is still on the jeans. Oh, yeah, baby--I was broadcasting my size tens to the world! Yeah! You know you're jealous of my awesomeness.

It could have been worse, though. When I was a junior in high school, back when CHS had a six-period school day, I had physical science 6th period. I walked in one day and Mr. Hixson had one of those size stickers on his pants. He had made it all day without being told.

Sure, I was a little embarrassed, but I had to laugh. And I thanked the girl that told me, too. I would have felt REALLY stupid if I'd discovered it way later and realized it had been there all day. I love my job, but there are drawbacks to having a career in which you stand in front of people all day--especially when the people in question are super-critical teens!

Happy Freakin' New Year!

Well, howdy! It's been nearly a month since I've updated this blog (been plenty busy on my blog about Dad's cancer, though...), so I figured it was high-time to do so. Honestly, the period right before Christmas was an ugly one for me, so I really didn't have the emotional energy to keep things up-to-date.

I am glad that Christmas is over, honestly. And it's a huge deal for me to say that, since I am a major Christmas freak. It is hands-down my favorite holiday and I love everything about it. I love the parties, I love the chaos, I love the food, I love the music, I love listening to the Christmas story being read straight from the Bible, and I love shopping for gifts for my loved ones--hey, I even love shopping on Black Friday and Christmas Eve (although that's not really saying anything because I'm a certified, card-carrying shopaholic). But this year...I just couldn't get going. And this year should have been a very exciting Christmas for me because Dan turned three this fall and thus was very much aware of the holiday. He had a good time last Christmas and had fun opening gifts, but this Christmas, he was very aware of all the hoopla surrounding the holiday. Still, though, I couldn't muster up much enthusiasm. Why, you ask?

Because there was the terrible "this is probably our last Christmas with Dad" aura hanging over the entire thing. And with that came the pressure of making everything perfect and special and meaningful, and...you know what? It can't be done. It is not humanly possible to infuse that much meaning into something like that under that kind of pressure. Those moments that we cherish and look back on fondly happen spontaneously--they're not planned like some kind of school play. And I knew that. And--if we're really being honest here--I just didn't want to deal with everything. I've never been the ostrich type before, but I sure do seem to be burying my head in the sand to an extent. That's not to say that I'm ignoring my parents or anything like that--certainly not. I'm helping where I can, going to visit, updating my blog for friends and family, etc... But emotionally, I'm just doing my best not to deal with it.

Christmas was good, though. All of my siblings came up--Danny, Stef, and Bridget arrived Christmas Eve and stayed with us, which was SUPER fun, as always, and Tina and Tonia arrived on the 26th. It was total chaos at times, but it always makes my heart happy to get to spend time with my sibs. With five of us living in three different cities in three different states, and with all of us having children (except Danny, whose kids are grown and gone), it is exceedingly difficult to coordinate a situation in which all five of us can get together. It is always a happy, fun time when we can succeed. We managed it two Christmases ago, and it was the Best. Christmas. EVER. That will be the one I look back on and say, "Wow. Now that's what it's all about."

So...I have rambled on for awhile now, but I really had to get all of that out. The holidays are past, and the pressure is off. The new year is upon us, and I wish each of you a happy, healthy, blessed new year. May this year be the best ever.

New blog

Instead of interspersing updates on Dad in here with all my random rumblings, I decided to just create a new blog for the sole purpose of keeping friends and family up to date on Dad's progress. The address for that blog is www.doug-williams.blogspot.com. Please check for updates, progress, and new prayer requests.

Thanks.

Numb

Dad saw the oncologist this morning. I still do not know the full details of everything that was said (Mom gave it to me in a nutshell), so I will post more if there is more to add. The long and short of it is this: it is very much as I feared. The doctor said that barring an intervention from the Lord, this form of cancer is always terminal. Dad will have his first chemo treatment on Tuesday, followed by a second treatment 22 days later. The chemo is a "quality of life" issue, rather than an attempt at a cure, from what I understand. It helps in approximately 30% of cases. Those odds aren't encouraging, but it is what it is. There was good news to be had, and that is that Dad's liver is apparently functioning very well right now, despite the malignant lesions on it.

Mom and Dad did ask Dr. Johnson (the oncologist) about the worst-case scenario. He said that we may be looking at six to twelve months. In a way, that is actually a little bit of a relief, because Dad has been feeling SO badly lately that we were afraid they'd go in and the doctor would say he had only weeks left. Still, six to twelve months is still an incredibly short period of time. I am very much in shock and quite numb at this point. I feel emotionally drained and all I really want to do is crawl in bed for awhile. I am worried about Dad, about Mom, and about Emma and Dan. Kate and Luke are too young to know anything (that in itself is both sad and a blessing), but the time will come when Laura and I will have to explain this to Emma and Dan and I truly can't even fathom how I will do that. I don't want Dad to suffer, and I don't want to watch him go through chemo and lose his hair. I don't want to watch him waste away and turn yellow.

In short, I was never naive enough to think that my father would live forever, but I always thought I would have more time than this. Your prayers are still appreciated. Please pray for comfort for Dad, for wisdom for his doctor, and for peace and wisdom for Laura and me as we try to explain this to our kids. I worry about my other siblings' kids as well, but they are mostly older and more able to understand, and of course, since they all live far away, they only see Dad once or twice a year. I don't know if that matters, since I've never dealt with this kind of thing before, but I can't imagine that their attachment to him would be as strong as if they saw him practically every day, as Emma and Dan do.

Dad is hoping to feel well enough after chemo to take a trip (presumably to Louisiana). I don't know when that will be, but I am hoping to be able to go, too. Every moment is now precious.

Please continue to pray, and I will update more when I can.

Oncologist appointment update

This isn't a major update, but I do want to let you all know that Dad's appointment with the oncologist has been moved up to this coming Friday morning. This is all in thanks to Dad's urologist, who looked at the biopsy report and said he'd make some calls. I am relieved, because no matter the news, I would rather just know than take part in this ridiculous waiting game again.

Last night was another tough night because Wayne Billingsley finally lost his decade-plus-long battle with cancer. He was such a fighter. He was told just after last Christmas that it was time to call in Hospice, but he was so strong--he rallied again and again. He was out and about doing things and seeing friends, and that was so encouraging. He had taken a serious turn for the worse in the past month, though, and I am glad he doesn't have to suffer anymore. It was so hard to see him like that, and I know it was so emotionally draining for Peggy, Nikki, and Chad. Now he is at peace, and maybe his family can be, too, now that he is not just lingering here in a pain-riddled shell. It is so difficult, though, to have a close family friend die of cancer when you've just had your own father diagnosed with the disease.

It has been a long time since I really got on my knees before God, but I did that last night after receiving the news about Wayne. I praised God for His timing, for taking Wayne now and ending his suffering, I praised Him that Wayne is home getting an amazing Homecoming with his now perfect and cancer-free body, and I prayed earnestly for Peggy, Nikki, and Chad in their time of mourning, and of course, I prayed for my own father and his doctors, and that I will not have to see him suffer in the same way.

It seems that cancer dominates my every thought in the past week or so, even down to having dreams about receiving chemotherapy and waking up nauseated. I am so blessed that I have not had to deal with things like this before, but it is challenging having to face the idea of my parents and their friends growing older and passing.

That is all for now. I will update again after Dad sees Dr. Johnson.

Hard day

Today was a hard day for me.

So far, I have done an outstanding (in my opinion) job of holding it all together. I got the news last Tuesday at lunch, and couldn't lose it because I had to go back to my kids (students). After school, I couldn't lose it because I had to go pick up my children and didn't want to scare them by crying in front of them. I haven't had much of a chance to really grieve over the news.

Today, as the designated "science person" in my family, I did some research on cholangiocarcinoma (bile duct cancer, which is what the biopsy report indicated that Dad probably has).

The research is bleak.

I am not going into details here. If you so desire to know, you can Google it yourself. Suffice it to say that I finally had my "freak out" today and have been crying on and off all afternoon (but still, not in front of my kids, because I remember being a child and I know there is nothing more terrifying to a child than seeing a parent cry or be out of control).

I dreamed about chemo last night. It was the last dream I had before I woke up, and when I did wake up, I was nauseated, like I had just gotten chemo and was sick. Guess it's right there in my subconscious more than I thought...

I can't write any more right now. More later.

Update on Dad

Cancer. It's getting easier to say, although it still sounds odd being in the same sentence with my dad. I have been overwhelmed by the outpouring of love from my amazing friends and I love and cherish each of you. Thank you for your love and concern.

We don't know any more than we did, but we do have an appointment with the oncologist. After gathering recommendations from friends, my parents chose Dr. Johnson in Chattanooga (yes, we are doctor snobs, as my husband says, and pretty much go to Chattanooga for everything) as my father's oncologist. The only caveat? They couldn't get an appointment until December 15th. I was absolutely livid (along with everyone else...except Dad) that there would be an almost three-week wait between the diagnosis and the appointment with the specialist, but Dad has been assured that that is actually a fairly normal wait time and he wants us to quit freaking out about it.

Dad's attitude about this whole thing is just amazing. He has been very nonchalant and matter-of-fact about it. "It is what it is," he keeps saying. That was his mantra in the excruciating period of time between when we first knew there were lesions on his liver and the time that we actually got the diagnosis. He will be a great patient. Physically, he feels lousy, of course. The main symptom (other than general malaise) that he has been having is a persistent nausea. The nausea isn't so bad that it causes vomiting or anything like that, but he has a hard time working up an interest in eating. If you know my dad, you know that he has pretty much always been thin as a rail, and he has lost 20 or 30 pounds so far, just due to his lack of appetite. The method of choice so far in dealing with the nausea has been Phenergan (a miracle drug, in my opinion!), but it hasn't done much for him, so his gastroenterologist gave him a prescription for Zofran, which is actually a drug that chemo patients commonly use to control nausea and vomiting. He said it hadn't done much for him when he took the first one, but I haven't asked him about it since.

We had a nice Thanksgiving dinner last night. Mark, Dan, Kate, Laura, Eric, Luke, Emma, and I all gathered at Mom and Dad's for ham, fried chicken, Mom's delicious broccoli casserole, and a bunch of other yumminess. It was a good time of fellowship.

Above all, we just continue to ask for prayer--prayer that Dad will remain in good spirits, that his energy level will increase, that the nausea will taper off, and that the oncologist will have the wisdom to choose the best course of treatment for him.

I will keep you posted as things develop.

There is never a good time for bad news.

Let me start by saying that I have led what many would call a charmed life. Past my grandfather's death (which I experienced at age four), I have had nothing whatsoever in my life that could be labeled as "trying" or "heartbreaking." Until today.

Today we got the results of my dad's liver biopsy, which he had last Thursday. It came back exactly as I expected--cancer. There, I said it. The big "C."

As of now, we know virtually nothing. We don't know where it originates (although it looks like it is neither lung nor colorectal). The biopsy results seem to point to an origination point in the bile ducts rather than the liver itself, but again, we don't know anything for certain yet.

I have been waiting until we had a definite diagnosis to do my freak-out, but now, even though I have a definite diagnosis, I still can't freak out until I have more information.

I don't even know how to handle this information. As I said, I have nothing in my life to which to compare this. I got the news at lunch today (at work) surrounded by five colleagues, all of whom knew exactly what was happening. There's nothing like getting a cancer diagnosis with five pairs of eyes watching you. I did a lot of shaking, but not a lot of crying, because I was afraid if I lost it, I wouldn't be able to get it together again in time to go back to class. So I am still holding it all in, barely keeping it together.

I guess all I can do at this point is ask for prayer. So please keep my mom and dad in your prayers--my dad as he deals with each step in this process and my mom as she endeavors to take care of both my father and her mother.

Boat Names

Mark and I have always enjoyed looking at all the boat names in Destin. There are several that we see every year, as they are docked on the canal that goes to the beach house, and then several more that I snapped shots of out in the harbor or at Crab Island. This one, the Par Tea Time, is docked at a house on the same canal as the Vera Cruz house, and while the boat is in need of a paint job, I like it! This one, we pass as we head out to the harbor.

This is another one that we see each year. This picture was taken coming in out of the harbor heading back to the house.

This is one of our favorites. Not only is the boat beautiful, but we like the airplane on it. We are assuming it belongs to a pilot. Great name!

I really just like the play on words here.

This one is the Gulf Cart II. I laughed out loud when I saw the name. Just thought it was cute.

A boat after my dad's own heart...

This applies to 90% of boat owners. Yep. It's only money.

I snapped this one out on Crab Island. I bet the owner is a redhead!

The downfall of having children...

So I am sick. Again. And Dan and Kate are both snotty and coughing. It's all-around fairly miserable in the Kesley household (and of course, once again, Mark has escaped illness, as he always does...). I have decided this is one of the biggest downfalls to having children. You know...other than the lack of sleep and lack of time to do stuff for yourself and the never-ending messy house. But yeah. I hate being sick. That is all.

Election reaction

I am angry. I am livid. For most of the day, I have been without words to express my horror. I have been unable to discuss politics today. I have been, alternately, depressed, angry, and tearful.

I am frustrated with the seeming inability of most Americans to understand basic economic principles. Tax the rich? Hmm, sounds great. But who ever received a job from a poor person?

The plain and simple truth: the rich run our country and drive our economy. The rich hand out the jobs in this (formerly) great nation of ours. The poor accept those jobs. When you tax the rich to death, they eliminate jobs to preserve their companies. Who gets hurt? Um, yeah...the poor.

I am disappointed at this sense of entitlement that seems to plague Americans today. Why work for it when you can take it from someone else who has done the work for you? All hands are out for the Great American Handout. Good planning and fiscal responsibilty is punished, while poor planning and irresponsibility are rewarded with government handouts. My husband's niece, who is 18, is about to drop Baby #2 (Baby #1 came at age 16). Two different daddies, no high school diploma, and no job since Baby #1 arrived. But she has her own apartment (paid for by the government), plenty of baby formula (because, being uneducated, breastfeeding is out of the quetsion, naturally), and a government check on a regular basis. Me? I waited until I had my college degree in hand, a house, a job, and maternity insurance before having my first kid. By that point I had been married 5 1/2 years. What did I get from the government? Umm...nothing. Wait, no, I got a tax credit for the kid. Big stinkin' whoop. So where's MY handout? What exactly, then, is my incentive to do well for myself? To better myself, to be responsible? Exactly. Obama's socialist tendencies make no sense. Socialism takes away everyone's incentive to work.

Mark and I have worked very hard to get where we are today. I resent the idea that $120k is suddenly "wealthy" in the eyes of Obama and his cronies (by the way, did you notice that every time a Democrat gets up to speak, that number goes down? It started at $250k and is steadily working its way downward. By next week it'll be $20k...). Nearly everyone I know makes over $100k a year, and I can promise you they're not living high on the hog. Why is that? Because we're already bearing the brunt of this country's tax burden. I can promise that if Obama increases that tax burden, all those poor Americans will get exactly what they want: the rich will be no more. And the jobs will go out the door with them. I can't wait to say "I told you so" as the country collapses around us. Be careful what you wish for.

Kids Say the Darndest Things...part 2

I'm thinking we're gonna save a ton of cash on college, because my kid is just gonna hit the stand-up comedy circuit. Last night he looks at me and says, "You're being difficult." And of course, I did exactly the wrong thing--instead of being stern with him and telling him he shouldn't talk to me like that, I cracked up. Oh, yes, my friend...it was hilarious.

Kids Really Do Say the Darndest Things!

My kid never fails to crack me up. First of all, when we returned from our trip to Destin, instead of being disappointed that our trip to the beach was over, he ran around with a seemingly adult perspective, saying over and over, "It's so good to be home!" I mean, he's three! Who ever heard of a three-year-old saying that?

But the really funny thing came later. I have a credit account with the Limited, and every so often, they send out these little cards good for a certain amount off of a purchase of a certain amount. So I took the card out of the envelope and laid it down. Apparently (I got this story from my husband), a little bit later, Dan comes by, picks it up, takes it to his father, and says, "What's this?" Mark looked at him and said, "Well, what do you think it is?" Dan thought about it for a minute and said, "Check card." That was funny enough (how does a three-year-old even know about check cards?!), but he quickly followed it up with, "Did you take it away from Mommy?"

The kid is a sponge. He doesn't miss a THING. Because I did get my check card taken away! Well, that's exaggerating a bit. It makes me sound a little like a twelve-year-old, doesn't it? The truth is, I surrendered it willingly to my husband because I can't be trusted with the thing. I swipe it so much that I'm surprised the plastic hasn't melted yet. So in accordance with our new "hey-let's-actually-not-spend-every-last-dime-we-make" financial plan, I allowed my check card to go live in Mark's wallet, to be handed out to me only when I need to buy gas or groceries or other necessities--NOT to be used, say, for really cute notecards at Annabelle Ink or for a shopping spree at Kohl's, or for that Margaritaville margarita maker I've had my eye on at Target. You know.

So apparently Dan has been quietly listening, taking all of that in, and it popped right back out at just the right time. I am beginning to see where he has the potential to reeeeally embarrass us. I may have to do the impossible--start keeping my mouth shut!

On the water in October

So to make up for my last entry, this one'll be short and sweet. We took both the boat and the WaveRunner out on the Hiwassee yesterday and played around--Mark and I took Dan (Kate got some facetime with Gammie and Papa), and Mark's brother and his girlfriend and his cousin and his girlfriend (or whatever) came along, too. We had a great time, but I couldn't quite get past the fact that I was skiing in October. On the Hiwassee. With no wetsuit. Is it just me, or is that bizarre?

And the really strange part is...it wasn't that cold.

Ok, that is all.

Political Rant (You have been warned)

Since I am apparently one of only 27 adults under the age of forty that is NOT supporting Barack Obama in the upcoming Presidential election, let me take this opportunity to air my feelings on the subject.

First: I am a Christian. I am a Republitarian (that's a Republican Libertarian for those of you who don't listen to Larry Elder). I am adamantly against abortion. Therefore, I think high schools, middle schools, and hell, even elementary schools should be handing out birth control and condoms like candy (this is where I am an anomaly amongst my conservative brethren--you can't have it both ways, people). I think that I went to college and earned a degree, got married, and waited until I had good health insurance and a decent income before I started popping out babies, and didn't expect the government to pay for it, and therefore I don't think I should have to pay for your (or anyone else's) progeny. I think that if I earned it, then it's mine, dammit, and the government doesn't have the right to take it from me to fund things like WIC, welfare, and foreign aid to 100 countries that hate our asses and want to see us all dead. I think that public education is a fine concept, but that school vouchers should be handed out to any parent that does not wish to partake of our miserable public education system (and that statement just came straight from the mouth of a public school teacher, y'all). I think a lot of other things, too, but it's too much to put here and besides, I doubt most of you care.

That said, let me start in on Obama now that you know where I'm coming from. And to be honest...I don't even know where to start. The man's hubris never fails to amaze me (such as the statement he made in the debate the other night when he went on about meeting with the Treasury Secretary last year to "inform" him of the danger that our economy is in, because he wanted to "make sure he knew," yada, yada, yada... Excuse me? I'm sorry, I didn't know Obama was more knowledgeable about economics than our Treasury Secretary. Clearly I'm in the dark here), but it's the blind devotion of those who adore him that befuddles me even more. First there are the people who are voting for him "because he's black." Are you serious? What would people say if I declared that I was voting for McCain because he's white? Never mind his politics, you see...it's all about his race. Please.

Then there are the people who are seemingly either ignorant of the fact that he is an admitted admirer of Marxist ideology or just don't care. Add to that the fact that he is a known associate of a convicted terrorist (William Ayers of the Weather Underground, who has gone on the record as stating that he does not regret his actions and would do it all over again if given the opportunity). We haven't even scratched the surface of what's wrong with Obama, and that right there is enough to scare the bejeesus out of me. With Hillary, I just had a plain old disagreement with her politics--no big deal. But Obama? I see him as truly dangerous for our nation.

Moving on, we have his economic policies. First, there is his plainly stated goal of "wealth redistribution." Um, excuse me? Are you serious? Again, we're back to the Marxism. Does that sound like communism to anyone else? I'm sorry, people, but when did wealth become the new Axis of Evil? If it weren't for the wealthy of America, our country would be dead, since the top 5% of earners pay 95% of the taxes. But politicians in general and Democrats in particular spend hours moaning about the evil rich who are hogging everything and don't want to share. Well...why the hell should they share? Whether they earned it or inherited it, their money is their money and no one else has any right to it. "But they don't need all that money," liberals say. Well, I have two jewelry boxes full of jewelry that I don't need, a boat that I don't need, a whole lot more clothes than I need, and a lot of other stuff that I don't need, but the point is that this is America, where every person has the opportunity to go out and make the most of themselves and keep what's theirs, and if that means going out and becoming a mega-billionaire and not giving one red cent back to charity (although I do agree that that is selfish and icky), then so be it. If someone came to my house and said, "You don't need that boat," and proceeded to haul it away, um, I'd call the cops and they would be arrested for theft. You see where I'm going with this?

So Obama's idea is hey, we're not going to tax you, oh no. We're going to tax your wealthy employer. Absolutely! We'll tax the corporations, not the people! Ahh, it's brilliant! It's fail-proof! The only thing that could possibly go wrong is...the wealthy corporations get tired of being taxed to death and either lay people off left and right to save cash, or just move overseas where they can pay impoverished 8-year-olds three cents a month to work a lot harder than a spoiled American ever would. Excellent idea.

Moving on. Gas prices. Ahh, yes...more Obama brilliance shining through. His idea? Better technology! Let's say NO to drilling, because that would be baaaaaaad for the wildlife, my friends (and keep in mind that no one ever met a bigger animal lover than me...I've got four freakin' cats that I didn't want because they were strays and I couldn't stand seeing them go hungry). So instead of drilling, we'll just come up with better technology that weans us from our independence from oil! Well, that's a great idea, and doggone it, it needs to be done, because whether we drill or not, our oil is running out. But in the meantime, gas prices are through the roof. So let's say that under President Obama, Detroit is given a mandate to "Get Us Off of Gas or Else!" And then let's say that Detroit does that by 2010. And let's further suppose (because as long we're dreaming, we might as well dream big here) that Detroit manages to design, test, and mass-produce a gas-free (or gas-reduced) car for the bargain price of $10k. Umm, great. But here's the problem. If I'm a single mom with three hungry children, living in the ghetto and working at KFC for $7 an hour, driving a 1978 Gremlin, that brand-spanking-new $10k gas-free machine is still pitifully out of my reach. And therefore, I need you to do something about gas prices NOW. Technology doesn't help me. Drilling does.

Which brings me to my issue with liberals in general and Obama in particular. They are dreamers. They are not living in the real world. These things sound great to the uneducated ear (and I can't for the life of me figure out why so many supposedly educated people are gung-ho for this guy!), but they just don't make any practical sense. Mind you, I am not a conservative because I'm a Bible-thumping, racist, homophobic, sexist psycho who thinks that gays should be burned at the stake and people living together before marriage are damned to hell (come to think of it...I've never actually met a conservative who thinks like that). I'm a conservative because it just makes sense.

So that's my totally disjointed anti-Obama rant for the evening, although I would fall over in shock if anyone actually read this far. Next up: why I think Sarah Palin is the shiz and why I am so irritated and yet amused at those who hate/are terrified of her.

Weekend at the river...my big accomplishment!

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Babylove

Most of the time, as mothers, we are quite sure that our children have no idea of the depths of our love for them. But sometimes, I think, they prove us wrong. Dan is one of those sometimes. As he creeps closer to three (two weeks away now!), I grow ever more conscious of the reality that one day he will be too big for me to hold, too grown-up for me to snuggle, and too mature to need his mommy. So I try to savor every hug, every kiss, every time I hear the word "Mommy" from his lips. Sometimes, though, he helps me.

Usually these times occur at night, as just happened a few moments ago. Sometimes, I think his not-quite-three-year-old brain is actually able to wrap itself around the monstrosity that is my love for him. When he is snuggled in bed, he will tell me that he wants "to be covered up with Mommy," which means he wants me to lie on his bed, more or less on top of him, snuggling him. Being a mommy, I am happy to oblige. Sometimes he just giggles and acts silly, but occasionally, he will place his little hands on either side of my face and look solemnly into my eyes, as if he is trying to communicate to me how much love for me is in his little heart. These occasions usually bring spontaneous tears to my eyes (usually, my head is also spinning at the abrupt 180 he has turned, because he has only two settings: Sweet as Sugar and Rosemary's Baby).

Tonight was Mark's evening to put him to bed, so while he was doing that, I was downstairs reading and playing around on my laptop. Mark decided to turn in early, and I went into the bathroom for a moment, after all was quiet and Mark had gone to sleep. I could hear the muffled sounds of singing coming from Dan's room (his room is directly over ours), so I decided to go check it out (it sounded too cute to be missed). I crept upstairs and quietly opened his bedroom door. He was lying in bed playing with his "baby" (a Glo-Worm that my mother-in-law gave to Kate last Christmas, but which Dan quickly commandeered). Dan's "baby" lights up (thus the "glo" part of Glo-Worm designation) and plays music when you press its stomach. The music it plays are familiar lullabies, most of which Dan knows the words to, so he was singing along. It was indeed too cute to be missed, so I went in and sat on his bed for a minute to talk with him. I asked him if he was singing to himself, and he gave me his angelic little smile and said yes (I used to sing myself to sleep when I was little, so it was a particularly precious moment for me), and then, when I reached down to hug him, he wrapped his little arms around me and that's when it happened. He squeezed me so tightly, it was like he was trying to say, "Mommy, I don't have the words to tell you how much I love you, so I'll tell you with my arms." I kissed him all over his little face and tried not to tear up as I told him (again) how much I love him.

In some ways, I am anxious for him to be older, because I think of all the fun things we have in our future--sports, family vacations, watching him learn to ride a bike, swim, and rollerskate. But in other ways, I just want to hit the "pause" button and freeze him at this age forever--or at least until I get my fill of his hugs and kisses and sweet little loves. But I guess that will never happen, huh? So time will march on, and one day my little guy will be a big guy, and he won't need me so much, and he won't want his face covered in Mommy Kisses. I just hope when the time comes, I'll be ready to let go. Because let's face it...there's nothing more uncool than a mom who won't let her little boy go.

New haircut

Well...I did it. I finally bit the bullet, grew a pair, and got the haircut I've been trying to work up the nerve to get for years! My hair is now officially shorter than it has ever been before. People are going nuts over it, but Mark hasn't seen it yet, so it remains to be seen whether he will like it (I'm betting he hates it, just for the record). It will be super-easy and quick in the morning, and that was definitely a motivating factor, but more than anything, I think the haircut suits my hair type. I have absolutely no body in my hair, so I think something short and choppy is perfect for it. We'll see if I still like it in a week, but for now, I love it!