A Historic Day

We voted early in the morning, with all of the kids. As we were walking into Beaver Lake Nature Center, I put one arm around Emily and Ryan and explained to them that someday - when they were older - they could say there were part of this. They were there to help cast a vote for Barack Obama. I started to cry. Chris looked back at me while holding Alex, and rolled his eyes. (for those of you that don't know - he tells me I cry at everything. yes, even sometimes cheerio commercials)

I am always a little paranoid about following the rules when it comes to voting. I gave this speech on the way in to vote - but before we reached the "100 feet away from polls" sign. I knew that they could turn us away from voting if we were campaigning within 100 feet. Yeah - I know. I wasn't really campaigning by giving the kids the speech, but I wasn't taking any chances.



While we were waiting for Chris to cast his vote, a couple in their 60's came in to sign the book to vote. The woman threw her arms up in the air and said "Finally. FINALLY! This day is HERE!!!!" I waited for them to throw her out right then and there, but they all just sat and stared at her with a smile. Who knew?

I know you were there too, but that night it went from wait-wait-wait to a decisive win at about 11:00 p.m. We switched from station to station to hear all the same news. I bounced from website to website (to Facebook) to see the same news. It was over. He won! He did it! It was too much. I can't pretend to know what it was like for my African-American friends. I can only imagine they were feeling beyond infinity the emotion I was feeling. All at once everything seemed possible - everyone in Grant Park - all of those crying, laughing, speechless people. We were all one. I didn't see color. I didn't see Democrats. I didn't see Republicans. I saw America - in all her beauty.

The best part - we were all a part of that right there.

Too Much...

You know what? I was going to tell you what happened just before we took this picture, but I think I'm going to let someone out there in cyber-land do that.

Any guesses?

On Being Obnoxious

I know this will come as a complete shock to all who read this blog, but I've discovered I can be a very obnoxious person when it comes to the election.

The interesting thing is, I'm not obnoxious in other situations (at least I don't think I am...). I'm instead obnoxious in just the public sphere, in regards to the presidential campaign.

Examples:

1. I took Chris to a Dr. appointment, and I had to wait in the waiting room where they had the morning news on. During one of the commercial breaks, a McCain/Palin political ad came on challenging Obama's record. I watched the ad, then looked around the room at the 15 or so other people to see if anyone else was reacting. I then chose to guffaw and shake my head adamently as if it was the most ridiculous ad I've ever seen. I didn't just giggle, mind you... I GUFFAWED. Nobody reacted, probably because they thought some crazy chick was waiting with them and they didn't want me to be noticed.
2. On my way to teach today, I passed by some road workers (is that what they're called?). One of the road workers said to his buddy "Hey - was that an Obama supporter?", which prompted me to turn and say loudly "There are a LOT of us around, buddy!"

I would never act that way about other controversial topics (when I see a child on a "leash" I don't launch into the reasons I disagree with that parenting style). For some reason the election inspires me to share my strong feelings with anyone located within earshot.

I'm looking forward to November 4, not just because we'll finally have a President in office I have faith in, but also because I'll be less annoying to society in general.

Funny things Kids Say...

In the car, on the way to Wegmans:

"Mom, I don't know if you know about this, but there is a bad word that we can't say at school. You've probably never heard it before. I can't even say it out loud in front of Ryan and Alex because they are too young to hear it."

I braced myself.

When we got to the store, Emily got out her seat and whispered the offensive word in my ear:

"The word is bitch."

I said "What?? Why are you saying that in the third grade, and how did you learn it?"

She said "Well, I was saying "pitch," and some other kids got all weird and told me I said a bad word. So I asked the teacher, and that's when I found out about the bad word.

For the mommy vault:
I've done a damn good job at concealing the "bad words" I know! Score one for the mom-ster! =)

A typical Monday night

One bottle of hot sauce, shattered on the floor by a two-year-old: $3.79

Cleaning supplies to pick up the shattered glass mixed with hot sauce: $1.79

Bedtime, then a glass of Chardonnay: Beyond Priceless

Livin' la Vida Loca

I'm experiencing a moment of utter bliss. I'm sitting at Panera Bread, listening to some smooth jazz while I drink a coffee (and yes, have an unmentionable pastry!) while I wait for Chloe the wonder-beagle to be bathed and get her nails trimmed. ahh. Oh - and the "ahh" part of that sentence comes from the fact that I am completely alone. No kids to juggle!

To make this even better, I am sitting right across the room from a couple that appear to be on one of their first dates. They are in their 50's, and they just finished telling each other a story that had them both gasping for air and holding their bellies from laughing so hard. I love laughing so hard it hurts. Is there anything better, really?? (okay - I know there probably is, but it's still good stuff!) I couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but I have a strong suspician that they were making fun of SP. (You betcha! ::wink::)

Today the family finished the roof. Well, they finished the big part of the roof, but haven't touched the porch part of the roof. You know, the part that everyone can see. I asked Chris as they were cleaning up "So, not to seem nit-picky... but are you guys going to do the roof on the front porch?" he looked at me and said "No." I said "Are you joking?" he looked at me and said "No." I said "Am I allowed to ask why?" he said "We didn't order enough shingles." I said "Oh. So, are you going to do that yourself, since it's such a small area, and it's probably low enough to get to yourself?" he looked at me, winced, and said "Uh, probably not."

Oy.

So, if you visit the house, don't look at the part of the roof you can see the best. Look at the rest of the roof. Maybe we can all have such a good laugh about it that our bellies hurt.


I in noooo way want to sound like I'm complaining. My BIL and FIL took time (a lot of time) out of their busy schedules to do the roof with Chris, and it sooooo needed it. I am very grateful, and I know they worked their freakin' asses off to get it done before it started to rain this afternoon.

Beware: Potato Peelers Can be a Major Hazard

I suppose it was just a matter of time before we ended up at Urgent Care with one of the kids. Okay, I guess it was just a matter of time before we ended up at Urgent Care with one of the boys. I don't think Emily has ever done anything that could remotely prove dangerous enough.

Today started off like any other in which people were tearing shingles off the roof - hectic. Yes, we are *finally* doing the other half of our roof (the first half was done four years ago or so). There were many phone calls for a dumpster, shingle delivery, and deciding what to make the masses for lunch.

One thing was already decided. Dinner would be a roast my brother-in-law generously transported from West Winfield. It was cooking in the crock pot all day - filling the house with its mouth-watering aroma. My father-in-law had brought bags (and I mean BAGS) of potatoes, so I thought we could make mashed potatoes to go along with our roast.

The kids were thrilled. They each wanted to help, so I got the extra potato peeler out. I ran to the bathroom for a second (or two), and heard the kids bicker in the kitchen. Then I heard a scream. More screams. I couldn't get out there fast enough - I ran into the kitchen and find Ryan holding his hand, screaming, begging for help. Emily is screaming and crying and keeps yelling Ryan's name. I can't get anyone to tell me what happened, but I knew there was a cut involved, based on the amount of blood on the floor. I got Ryan over to the sink, poured water over his finger, and tried to assess the situation . Then, I applied pressure to it. All the while everyone was screaming, except for Alex, who was walking around the kitchen with a finger in each ear (Yes, I'll get the application for mensa asap. That kid is a freakin' genius!).

I asked Emily to go outside to ask Chris to come in to help. I didn't like what his finger looked like, so I assumed I would need to take him to the hospital. More drama ensued before Ryan and I were on our way to Urgent Care.

On the way, I thought I would share an inspirational story of a cut-that-went-bad with Ryan that had a happy ending. On Chris's first day at work (five years ago, I think), he tried to fix a jammed machine. The jammed machine had something called a "heat knife" to cut the tops off of plastic bottles. When he tried to fix the jam, the tip of his finger was sliced off. They rushed him to the emergency room where they cinched up his finger tight (without the pad of his finger..). He lived to tell the tale, and today he's an urban legend at his work.

I turn to look at Ryan, expecting to see a hopeful look of relief. I instead was the recipient of the most horror-struck look I've ever seen. He said "That was the most awful story I have ever heard. Do not ever tell that story again!!!!!!" He cried and wailed some more, and told me he had never been so scared. He said the last thing he wanted to think about was his daddy's finger being sliced off.

I'll put that one in the mom vault of "stories not to tell in a time of crisis."

Bottom line: Ryan is okay. His finger tip was nearly cut off, but not quite, and he has cool steri-strips and a large gauze bandage on tonight while he sleeps like a little wee boo upstairs. Poor baby!