AmbienRay, 100% Fat Free

Paro-Delight

2009-09-06T00:20:00.000-07:00

Let's talk about obscure talents. A lot of people have them. My dad can untangle necklaces in the blink of an eye - a talent which he got from his mother who is the only person I know who can untie an inflated balloon. My brother-in-law has the uncanny ability of always finding a good parking spot. My sister-in-law has a knack (one that I lack and envy greatly) for being able to judge exactly which size of tupperware will fit the amount of leftovers.

Well, God did not pass me by when He was passing out the useless, unmarketable skills. My obscure talent is coming up with song parodies. I love it. When the radio is on and my children are trying to talk to me I can answer - rhyming too, mind you - to the tune of whatever is playing. And they hate it. I once wrote, choreographed, and directed a 30 minute road show consisting entirely of song parodies from the 70's.

Lacking any other venue through which to share it, here is my all-time favorite parody. It was inspired while I was in Japan where the bathroom light switches are outside of the bathroom and my niece accidently turned it off while I was still occupying it. It goes to the tune of "Strangers in the Night". Enjoy.

Peeing in the Dark

Peeing in the dark, without the light on,
This is kind of hard, I hope I'm right on
the toilet or you'll be, angry about your chair.

Something in the air is rather pungent.
Something on the floor, I'll need a sponge if
In choosing where to pee, I should have used more care.

Peeing in the dark.
It's close to midnight,
but I'm peeing the dark.
And there's no moonlight,
so I thought this was the lav,
Now I'll never have
The chance to clean the stain away,
a spot I can't explain away.

And ever since that night, we haven't spoken
And we're in a fight, our friendship broken
And it is all because, of peeing in the dark.

Coolest Book Covers/Mom, Ever

2009-08-25T15:04:00.000-07:00

I think there is some universal parental law that says that parents must do things that embarrass their children, especially at school. My childhood cause for therapy was the lunches my mom packed for us. She was a super-economizer, she had to be with seven kids, and she bought the cheapest store brand bread 5 loaves at a time which she'd throw in the freezer. When it was sandwich making time, she'd thaw a loaf and lay one slice of Buddig lunch meat - the kind you can read a book through - between two soggy, misshappen slices of bread. This was accompanied by the aluminum foil mystery wad of carrot sticks, macaroni salad, or whatever side dish we didn't finish the night before. It was better than going hungry, just barely.

My children's cause for therapy is their book covers. I've never had luck with those stretchy fabric covers that schools suggest you buy that never fit or stay on and cost $3 each (four kids, four or five books a piece, you can do the math). So I've always used good, old fashioned, earth friendly, brown grocery bags and a bit of duct tape resulting in a beautifully and sturdily covered book like so: (SS stands for Social Studies)

My kids hate them. They are embarrassed by them, especially my oldest son who immediately doodles all over his with a Sharpie. I honestly think this kind of embarrassment is good for kids. Keeps them humble. But I was met with such protestations this year that the compassionate and creative side of me was moved. So, in the spirit of the brown grocery bag, I used shopping bags from the mall and a whole lot more duct tape to get this result:

I'm now going to have to think of something else to embarrass my kids with. Maybe I'll order braces with head gear for all of them whether they need it or not.

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A Tale of Ten Tickets

2009-08-13T01:43:00.000-07:00

When most teenagers first start to drive, their parents usually advise caution before speed. Not my parents. Their feet are so full of lead, I'm not sure how they ever board airplanes. Unfortunately, lead in the feet is a genetic trait, but eagleness of the eye is not. That is how my mother, despite her speeding ways, has never gotten a speeding ticket, but I have a record spanning several states.

I thought I had finally broken my torrent of tickets, but my eight years of driving clean was shattered, this summer, by a road trip through Colorado. Unpleasant as the experience was, it gave me time to reflect, like a cheesey series finale, on each and every ticket I have gotten. The result was....disturbing.

1. Southern Utah, 1990: I didn't even have my license yet, just a permit, and I was driving the family van on a road trip with my mother in the front seat looking at the speedometer and saying, "We're never going to get there at this rate".

2. Houston, Texas, 1991: As an incredibly unobservant teenager, on my way to Galveston, I came up behind a slow moving car so I passed it on the wrong side of the road only to discover it was a police car. I was nabbed for going 20 over.

3. Salt Lake City, Utah, 1992: In the wee hours of the morning, I figured I could turn left even though the turn light was red because the streets were deserted. I turned alright, but the streets weren't quite deserted. Dang!

4. Somewhere in Wyoming, 1992: The best thing about getting a ticket in Wyoming is, at the time anyway, the penalty is one dollar per mile over the speed limit. I was out $17.

5. Sandy, UT, 1993: Got nabbed behind the highschool I was attending. Being a student that the school zone was designed to keep safe apparently didn't help my cause at all.

6. Provo, UT, 1994: I hit a Geo Metro when we both started out from opposite driveways into the same break in 5 lanes of traffic. Why did I get the ticket and not her? I was turning left. Left turners have no rights. Maybe I should start lobbying...

7. almost to Utah, CO, 1995: I discovered that it is a policy in Colorado that if you are going more than 20 mph over the speed limit, the policeman is obligated to take you into custody. Lucky for me, he had mercy in his heart that day.

8. Provo, UT, 1996: Okay so this one's a parking ticket. Sometimes you just have to risk it when you're late for class and there's no other place to park. It's just embarrassing calling your boss to tell him you're going to be late for work because your car got booted.

9. Spokane, WA, 2001: On an overnight roadtrip, the book on tape I was using to keep me from dozing also kept me from realizing the speed limit had just dropped. Sneaky guy was waiting right after the reduced speed sign.

10. middle of nowhere, CO, 2009: I seriously got pulled over for doing 77 in a 65 on a straight, flat, country road. I think it's a ploy by financially strapped local governments to raise revenue, so I'll just think of the $164.50 I'm out as my contribution to stimulating the economy. It makes speeding patriotic, in a way.

So speed on my friends, and don't fret the tickets. It's saving jobs, or something.

Summer

2009-06-22T01:59:00.000-07:00

The summer is in full swing with visitors and activities. The brain is going but the fingers lag. I'll see all you dear, online friends, (all 2 of you) on the other side.

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Playing It Close

2009-05-21T13:29:00.000-07:00

I don't know about you but I'm not a big fan of these:
Granted, I haven't lost anyone whom I would choose to honor in this manner. But seriously, why would I want to put a tribute to a person I love in the same place people put things like "I have a gun, and I vote" or a decal of Calvin peeing on a Ford logo?

Don't get me wrong. I'm all for keeping momentos of people who are more important than anything else in this world to me. But rather than wearing a tight T-shirt that says "I heart my hubby!", I choose to wear a small, simple wedding ring. I don't wear my heart on my sleeve or my grief on my car. I show my love and devotion to the people I love by my actions. Spending time, attention, listening to and applying things they have taught me - not by renting out billboard space.

What do you think?

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You're Going to Have MORE?!

2009-05-14T23:46:00.000-07:00

In honor of Ambie's birthday, this post has been inspired by my favorite mother of ten...

One of the side effects of sending your children to private school is that their classmates tend to come from small families. And when I say small, I mean they are only children or they have one sibling. So I am something of a freak with four children and people would just faint away if they ever met Ambie. Even outside of the private school set I constantly see raised eyebrows when I divulge the number of children I have. The one I love most is the people in the grocery store who say, "You are a busy lady!" And I suppose they all think they're the first person to tell me that.

So how do you explain to people who think one child is enough, why you have, and yes, they were all planned for and wanted, a lot of children? Especially when those children are in the middle of fighting, screaming, throwing a tantrum or destroying something, which, in my case, is often.

How do you explain that you want your children to learn to cooperate, sacrifice and serve one another? How there are just some lessons siblings can teach better than parents? How do you tell them that being poorer and less able to provide all the luxuries in life for each child can actually be better for them? That they will learn not to be spoiled or the constant center of attention? Can you really get them to believe that the joy of a house filled with children really does compensate for the sacrifice in freedom, money, and quiet? How do you describe a vision of the future filled with grown children, their spouses, and a host of grandchildren crowding a house for a special occasion?

Sometimes when I see my friends with one or two children - with their unstained clothing, tiny, diaper-free purses, blossoming careers, hair and make-up done, serenity and sanity intact - I feel sorry for myself. But then, there will be a moment, small though it may be, when all four children are snuggled up watching a movie and laughing, or all jumping on the trampoline playing a game, or they all join in to listen when I'm reading the youngest a book - that's when I feel sorry for my friends.

Drug or Distraction ?

2009-05-14T12:17:00.000-07:00

It's true, we have finally had enough and have gone to extreme measures to get retrieve what little time there is left after activities and such, with our children. Mind you we only have 3 very short summer months in which to enjoy the wonderful outdoors here in Alaska. I was not prepared however for the dent that no cable and internet would create in my own life. In my mind my teenagers and children are the culprits of computer and tv over use ... not me, still on the first day without the two, I found myself continuously walking over to sit down and log, only to remember as I was sitting that there was no more internet. After that first day I felt humbled and a little like a recovering drug adict. When the kids came home from school you would have thought someone had died. With faces fallen , the kids sat around not sure what to do with themselves but then an amazing thing happened.... we all started talking to each other. It was great ! It felt sort of like visiting with old friends you haven't seen in ages. Still after a week or so of this the fighting started and now I am remembering why I had the internet and tv in the first place.
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MIA, Ambie

2009-05-11T02:37:00.000-07:00

The silence of waiting for Ambie to post something is truly deafening. I gave up and called her one day only to discover that she shut off her internet in an attempt to curb her teenagers online time. I thought this was a pretty extreme measure, until I saw a news story about a teen who logged 300,000 text messages in one month! Let's do the math, folks. That's 10,000 texts per day, and about 7 per minute.

Her parents must be so proud - and grateful for a plan with unlimited texting.

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When Good Monkeybars Go Bad

2009-05-06T00:01:00.000-07:00

Remember what I said about my kids having great timing when it comes to emergencies? So I shouldn't be surprised when, during the month between COBRA expiring and the new employment health insurance kicking in, I get to deal with this...

WARNING!
clicking "more" is not for those with weak stomachs

Re-employed...and it feels so good.

2009-04-21T14:18:00.000-07:00

Division of Labor: Part II

If I knew what Unemployment Weeks 4 and 5 were like, I would've started with them. Weeks 4 and 5 were filled with peace and productivity as my husband received two and a half job offers -one in Oregon and one and a half in Hawaii. (I know, you're wondering what a half of a job offer is. It's a verbal offer from a direct supervisor who has trouble getting the final okay from the Big Cheese. My husband actually got two of these so maybe together they make one offer.)

After careful consideration - taking into account salary, location, company size and stability, type of work, but most importantly, access to the beach - we have decided to stay in Hawaii despite taking a small (large) cut in pay.

So during Unemployment Weeks 4 and 5, my calm and rested husband was a humming machine of activity. He took the kids to school in the mornings, took on household projects during the day, then drove the kids to their sports and dance activities in the afternoon. I would've felt superfluous except I'm the only one who knows how to cook.

I thought that I would lament the day we had to go back to our traditional, Brady Bunch roles of "mother" and "father", but it actually felt "right". I don't like waking up at 5:45am to drive the kids to school or entertaining a 2-year-old for an hour in a ballet studio, but it is the role by love and the grace of God that I'm supposed to do - and that makes me happy.

...or maybe it's the money.

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The End That Never Ends

2009-04-06T11:13:00.000-07:00

One way to determine how obsessed mankind is on a subject is to look at how many synonyms there are for it. For example there are 38 synonyms for "money" while there are only 14 for "poetry" and 12 for "calculus".

That being said, I have a dilemma. I cannot get my children to stop enjoying humor about their...um...fannies, rear ends, bottoms, bums, butts, tushes, gluteals, buttocks, buns, cheeks, rumps, er..donkeys, and everything that comes out of them. This type of childish humor starts moments after birth with the first smile of delight after passing gas and ends, well, I'm still waiting.

Like most children, mine enjoy watching the various animated movies by Disney and Dreamworks. But I just roll my eyes and brace myself if there is any humor, however subtle, involving directly or indirectly a bodily function involving a rear end. Dreamworks' "Bee Movie" has been permanently dubbed the "Ah! Poo water!" movie in this house. You may have seen the movie many times and still don't know what I'm refering to, but my kids didn't miss it. When my husband's new construction project turned out to be a waste water treatment plant, well, things got a little out of hand.

I've tried all kinds of consequences - timeouts, grounding, no-sugar days - and they work, for a little while. But life does demand the discussion of such personals from time to time. Then before I know it we're back to "Ah! Poo water!". The ultimate, though, is when my little children got the not-so-brilliant idea to try out poo.com. Horrible mistake. It turns out it is a website with lists of links to kinky pictures and products. There have been no Frosted Flakes in this house for a long time.

So I've resigned myself to the fact that this may be one of those childhood ailments that has no treatment but just has to run its course. But I get discouraged at times, like, in a church meeting of all places, a speaker was recounting an experience he had on Lake Titicaca, and I hear a muffled giggle from my husband! This is going to be a long wait.

Happy Birthday Ray !

2009-03-31T13:49:00.000-07:00

My dear beloved friend Ray had a birthday two days ago and I hope she will forgive me for this late post ... I was uh... shoveling ash. I am happy to report however that the air has cleared and I have finally decided to get up off my ash and post. Every year about this time, I feel my heart swell with love and admiration for my good ol' buddy Ray. I'm not sure how old she is, but I know it's somewhere between 14 and 25, at least that's how she looks and also judging by the ages of the men who ask her out. ( deacons mostly ). Ray is an incredible person with what seams limitless energy whose hair, according to my children, seems to smile along with her friendly yet mischievous expression. Ray has an easy countenance which causes those who know her well, and those who have just met her, and strangers in the grocery store, to feel comfortable enough to share all sorts of personal information.. their life stories.. and their health problems with. This always amazed me because I am of a serious expression which works wonderfully to ward off unwanted social interaction. But not Ray, she bears all like a saint. It must be because of a good upbringing. She always said she learned kindness by serving her family,especially her siblings who look to her for wisdom and knowledge and consider her a genius .. at least that's what she says. So here's to Ray ! Happy birthday my wonderful bright friend who I love and adore more than words could possibly express. May this year be full of happiness and laughter ( probably at my expense )

Love, Ambie

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"Thar She Blows" !... Mount Redoubt loses her temper

2009-03-31T12:44:00.000-07:00

Imagine your driving along and you look in your rear view mirror only to discover a giant dark menacing ash cloud that looks as if it's coming straight out of hell to collect your pitiful soul. Well that's just what happened to me Saturday night. Mt. Redoubt blew once again which had already been doing the past few days, still we were hopeful that the ash cloud would be blown the other direction as it had been doing. Believe me it was a little frightening to everyone in Anchorage. The airport shut down, as did the mall and many other businesses that feared damage to their electronics and such. We hunkered down for the night and watched through the window as the ash piled onto our car and turned the snow gray. The air smelled of sulfur and was as thick as pea soup. This was definitely up there on my list of freaky weird days.
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Why You Should Have Sympathy For Me

2009-03-16T09:54:00.000-07:00

It's cold.

No, really, it's cold.

When late winter chills hit, the nation comforts and consoles itself as people keep their winter gear out despite the approach of Easter. But that sympathy is reserved "for the mainland only". As if compassion were as scarce as sunshine, I am left in the cold, so to speak, when I complain of the unseasonable cold here in Hawaii. When my fingers and toes are numb with chill, I am bereft of the kind warmth of sympathy or concern. All I get is derision and temperature one-downs-manship.

If a friend were suffering the pain of a broken finger, would you express sympathy, or would you wag your finger and say, "That's nothing! I've had a broken leg!"

Here's why you should remember me kindly as this seemingly endless winter rages on:

1. Insulation - I have none. Drywall in Hawaii is reserved for hotels. Most houses are built with "single wall construction" which causes the outside temperature to pretty much match the inside temperature. And while our lows in the low 50s may seem mild to you snow folk, I doubt you are sleeping in a 54 degree room like I am.

2. Heating - I have none. No heater. No fireplace. No way to warm my house or room if it gets cold. Well, there's always the oven. Coconuts don't burn well, as I've discovered.

3. Winter clothing - I have none. Heavy jackets, gloves, scarves, thick socks, or boots are just not to be found on this island unless it's brought from the mainland. I have taken to sleeping in a sweatshirt and a couple pairs of socks. My children wear two sets of PJs at a time. If I'm "soft" for complaining about temperatures in the 50s, then you all are "soft" for using Goretex and wool.

As I write this I can feel the chill seeping through my comforter (no down to be found here either unless I try to pluck a passing nene which, I'm pretty sure is illegal.) The end of my nose and my fingers are numb. And it's March for Pete's sake! So as you sit toasty in your heated, insulated houses with your wool socks and down comforter, just remember your poor friend in Hawaii who doesn't have all those luxuries, and shed a tear and write a word of sympathy.

No, seriously, I'm cold!

My New Profession - Not Being a Doctor

2009-03-07T15:46:00.000-08:00

My children have the uncanny ability to pick the absolute worst time to have emergencies. My daughter drenched me with throw-up at the beginning of a 5 hour whale watching trip. One son split his head open on a Sunday requiring an E.R. visit and stitches. The other son chose a night my husband was out of town to split his head open so I had to drag everyone to the E.R. I had a baby on my lap in an airplane with a blown out poopy diaper right after take-off. And on and on goes the list.

My favorite, though, is when my daughter lodged a popcorn kernel in her ear canal when we had been living in Omaha for all of two weeks. I didn't even know where a medical center was located, let alone have a family doctor picked out. I tried tipping her head way over and banging on the other side hoping it would just pop out. She wasn't too thrilled with that. Then I told her if we didn't get it out, it would start growing and she'd soon have corn shoots sticking out of her ear and roots attaching themselves to her brain. She didn't like that either, for some reason.

I finally found myself in an urgent care center I found in the yellow pages. We were ushered to an examination room where a doctor took one look and said he couldn't get the kernel out and that we'd have to go to an ear nose throat doctor. Luckily there was one in the same complex and he could see her right away. With a giant magnifying glass and tiny, needle-like tweezers, the ENT was able to get the popcorn kernel out all the while telling us horror stories of things he's pulled out of kids' ears including tic tacs, plants, and a live bee.

So the story has a happy ending. No roots implanted in brain.

Then we got a bill from the urgent care center for an "examination" - $169. Huh? The doctor barely even touched my daughter before he declared he couldn't do anything. Well, I couldn't do anything either. Where's my $169? In fact, there's a lot of medical procedures I can't do, brain surgery, heart transplants, amputations, well, maybe I could do amputations. But if you can get paid for not doing a popcorn extraction, I'd also like to get paid for not doing the other stuff.

Think it'll work?

Homework Does Not Do Itself Observes Perplexed Eleven Year Old.

2009-02-27T19:38:00.000-08:00

Anchorage,AK - Alexa is not sure how she came to the understanding that if she put it off long enough it would simply get tired of waiting and do itself. " I guess I just hoped for a miracle" stated the heavily homework laden preteen as she wearily rubbed her bloodshot eyes. " Oh for crying out loud in the night , if she would just get it done right after school on Friday we wouldn't have this problem." Alexa's mother told reporters while jerking the knots out of her daughters hair. Neither Alexa nor her mother could provide any further insight into why this same scenario seem to replay itself every Sunday night but both are open to further discussion on the issue pending a complete schedule overhaul.
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The Secret to Happy Marriage - Division of Labor

2009-02-27T08:52:00.000-08:00

You've heard the phrase, "Too many roosters, not enough hens", or perhaps, "Too many chiefs, not enough Indians". These phrases are used to determine the cause of dissent and inefficiency within a group of people. To have an organization, a company, a family, or a team humming like a well-oiled machine, each person in it has to have a specific role that is suited to their strengths and abilities without too much overlap or interference with anyone else's role.

That's the foundation of a happy marriage. One person is the hunter, one person is the gatherer. So what happens when the hunter cannot hunt for whatever reason?

The gatherer might strangle the would-be hunter.

I've tried really hard to be a good supportive wife to my husband who is currently out of work. I'm sympathetic, I don't suggest that he's failed in any way to fill his role, I give him time and space to job hunt. But after three weeks of having him under-foot, I'm ready for him to go to work, and not just to earn money - that's the nice side-benefit. So here's the week-by-week unemployed husband progression.

Week 1
The first week was with filled with a flurry of emails, calls, and research as my husband contacted friends, former co-workers, and former bosses to see if any company was currently hiring. He also researched different companies and what they were currently developing. It's a rotten economy so there aren't too many places hiring and there are a lot of people looking.

Week 2
The next week yielded a few interviews with companies and a couple of recruiters. My husband actually shaved (I thought he was going to hold out until he got a job, but really, who's going hire Grizzly Adams?), got dressed and left the house. He felt good about how the interviews went and some of the anger and despondency of week 1 abated to be replaced by a nervous energy.

Week 3
Three interviews required follow-up interviews and requests for references and background checks. The digging up of contacts and research of week 1 has all but stopped since at least one of these follow-ups seems sure to yield an offer. The nervous energy has peaked. My husband has taken to pacing the house, throwing a plastic ball repeatedly across the room (practicing his curve ball, he tells me) and babbling (well, as much as he does). He did leave the house once to go snorkling with his sister, but he took his phone in a dry bag with him.

Don't get me wrong, it's really nice having my husband around so I can leave my little one home as I drive the big kids around to school and activities. He's been helpful doing dishes, folding laundry, vacuuming, tidying up, and it is nice having an adult to talk to all day long. But, he's always there when I want a little quiet time reading or on the computer, bouncing on his heels asking what we're doing, asking me to bat his curve balls, or suggesting beach-visits or kayak-trips. He's got all this excess energy with nothing to focus it on but me.

If absence makes the heart grow fonder, surely the inverse is also true.

Humble Pie Blues

2009-02-22T13:52:00.000-08:00

Wow, this economy is a real bummer. Everyone in the nation knows at least one person that has lost his or her job. In my case, the one person I know also happens to be my husband and the sole bread-winner for the household.

Adapting to our new financial (or lack thereof) situation, I've decided to cut back on discretionary spending. No more luxuries like cable TV, salon haircuts or pedicures. I will now only shop clearances and wholesale. No more eating out and only second-hand stores for clothing.

Wait a minute, that's how I've always lived.

The one luxury that I'm having a hard time giving up is the children's private school education, and those familiar with Hawaii public schools understand why. Luckily the current school year is already paid for, but the coming year is quite uncertain.

In the meantime, you will find me on the side of the road holding a sign that says, "Will work for pidgin-free education".

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Reunited....and it feels so good

2009-02-11T13:32:00.000-08:00

When we ask the question, "my place or yours?", in the winter, there is no question. After more than a year, Ambie and Ray are actually within striking distance of each other, although we don't strike each other much anymore. Ambie is greatly enjoying not having to wear multiple layers and bracing herself for subarctic temperatures and Ray is enjoying having someone to talk to that is actually potty trained, mostly.

After ecstatically flinging herself, squinting and blinking, into the sunshine, Ambie is now nursing a 5-alarm sunburn. Experts believe that Ray may stop laughing sometime early next week.

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Baby Chihuahua

2009-02-04T00:24:00.001-08:00

My little sister breeds Chihuahua's and I have to admit I am amazed that she can sell these little creatures for as much as she does. She makes a small fortune every time one of her females gives birth to a litter of what look to me like something closely related to the common New York Sewer Rat. People love these things, the smaller the better. My sister however has learned to hate them. She complains that they are nervous, shaky, and constantly in danger of being stepped on or plucked out of the yard by a hungry bald eagle which frequent her area. She and her husband carefully step around them and have only once had an incident which was when my sister accidentally let the back door close behind her and as it shut it broke one of the dogs legs..... I want one.
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Thank You, Angel

2009-01-29T15:08:00.000-08:00

I like to think of myself as a fairly capable, independent woman. I have a college degree with which I have earned a living. I can do my own taxes, budget my money, open pickle jars, take out the trash, paint the house, frame windows, teach my son how to be a good point guard, etc.

Then days like yesterday happen. I was downtown with a flat tire.

Okay, I've seen this done before. I know academically what is supposed to happen. So I got out the donut, jack, and crowbar. Now what??

I started to jack up the car, and when I say, "jack-up", I mean curse and yell at the little hooky thingy that doesn't seem fit to turn the nutty thingy that's supposed to raise the jack and thereby, the car.

Male to the rescue. Is there something in that teeny, little Y-chromosome that gives men the innate knowledge of such processes?

Thank you, thank you, thank you, to the anonymous young guy that moved the jack to the correct spot on my car's frame, inserted the crow bar into the hooky thingy so that you can get leverage to turn the jack-screw, and turned the donut around when I started to put it on backward. Who, no doubt, went straight home to teach his wife how to change a tire so that she will never be as idiotically helpless as me.

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Do You Know Where Your Kids Are ?... Right Now Go Look ..Now. ..Ray.

2009-01-26T13:24:00.000-08:00

While Ray pines for some use of her genius mind other than changing diapers and issuing spankings when her "just as smart as her "children flush animals down the toilet, I can't help but feel that no amount of brains could have prepared me for raising kids. Now I do not profess to be any kind of intellectual, still I thought or rather believed naively that I possessed enough common sense to get the job done.

What I did not count on was that there would be numerous scenarios that had never entered my thoughts ..ever. For example have any of your children ever spilled paint on the floor ? Easy solution right ? Time out and a lecture about mess making. Well what if they kept doing it everyday for a year. What if they ate the paint ? What if it was crayola paint as opposed to exterior paint. Would that make you less angry ? What if they painted each other as a sort of kind service to each other ? Do you keep punishing or just learn how to clean fast. If you don't punish for each and every crime will they end up in jail because they you let everything slide and they think they can get away with everything ? Or if you over punish will your children grow up feeling pecked to death and plot your death ? Every situation calls for thought and care and every situation is different and Ray's kids are undoubtedly pouring paint on the floor right now or very soon.

Honestly no college course can prepare for the intuition needed to handle a child. I am so grateful to have the opportunity to raise children. It keeps me busy enough so I don't have to think about how screwed up I am because my own parents royally destroyed my life by under-punishing me.

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Why Do I Have A Brain?

2009-01-23T13:08:00.000-08:00

...and speaking of whiny posts.

I realize that I made the choice as a grown adult of sound (at the time) mind and able body to stay at home with my children. Even if I knew then what I know now, I would still make that choice.

That being said...

I can't help but feel like the "job" I've chosen requires very few skills and even fewer brains. In fact, in the "real" world, the tasks I do everyday are done by the lowest educated, least skilled people in the workforce. Dishwashing, vacuuming, toilet cleaning, laundry doing, stain removing, butt wiping, nose wiping, vomit disposing, Barney-enduring, you get the picture. Most people wouldn't do this job for any money in the world.

Having a brain just makes it all the more frustrating.

Oh, I've heard all the reasons why we, as women and mothers, should pursue education. What if we don't get married? What if our husbands lose their jobs or die? But really. What aspiring athlete would work so hard if they were told they would only get playing time if no team ever wanted them, or that they would only be second string and never get to play unless the superstar gets injured? Is that all my brain is good for? As back-up quarterback?

I know some people say we're better mothers if we can teach our children why rainbows appear in the sky, or why ice floats, or describe what irony is and site examples. Is that why I studied so hard in college? I have yet to hear my children ask what a LaPlace Transform is, or why the leading edge of supersonic airflow drastically increases drag.

Don't get me wrong. I am grateful that I can stay home with my kids. That my husband is willing and able to provide for our needs and make that possible. I cherish the small, precious moments of snuggling and reading a book, the poignant observations on life and the world around us seen from a child's unique perspective, and the peace of mind that comes from knowing that I am a significant part of that world that influences my child.

I just hope that when my children are grown and gone, I will have two brain cells left to rub together.

Books

2009-01-17T12:52:00.001-08:00

Books are like friends in so many ways. They fill our discretionary time with wonder and excitement. They can be informative, intriguing, frustrating, comforting, inspiring, and humorous. Relationships with some books are endearingly deep which you reinforce, perhaps with marginal notes, again and again. Some books are shallow and flippant - a passing acquaintance - which you nurture no more than is necessary. But like friends, books are indispensible. While they may have no survival value, they certainly bring value to survival. When a book comes to a end, it's like the close of a friendship, a destination reached, and a journey completed. Not all the moments may have been beautiful. Some may have been painful. Some ugly. But every book we read, like every person we meet, affects us and molds us, like each tiny tap of the sculptor's chisel, into the person we are.

And in case you were wondering. I just finished reading David McCullough's "John Adams" and I feel like I've met a soulmate some 230 years removed. And I think I've fallen in love, with John Quincy Adams. Too bad he's been dead for 160 years.

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To Move or Not to Move...

2009-01-08T18:46:00.000-08:00

No, this is not a post about bowels.

I have found that there are two types of people in this world - those that move and those that don't. No question which category I fit into. I've never lived more than 4 years in any one place in my entire life. But I've lived in places and met people that are of the other type and I have found no correlation to income, education, or level of curiosity, outgoing-ness or adventure that distinguishes the two groups. There are just people who are willing, even excited, to pick up and move, and people who aren't.

I remember a guy I studied in college with who loudly claimed that he would rather be a ditch digger in Utah than an engineer in Texas. (and he wondered why I wouldn't go out with him.) I know people here in Hawaii - in their 40s - who still live in the houses they grew up in. And then there's Ambie, whose children had the same Kindergarten teacher she did. I've heard people say that they choose not to move for the sake of their children. Then their children grow up and move away, and they're still there!

I'm not going to say that one group of people is superior to the other. But I will say that there are experiences and life lessons that come with moving that you cannot gain any other way. For one thing, you cannot come to know a place or a people by just visiting no matter how often or how long. All my life I've visited Hawaii, had family here, stayed for over a month at a time - but when I moved here for the first time, I felt like a foreigner. It's a whole different ballgame. Like the difference between looking at a picture of food and actually eating it.

By moving around a lot, you learn that "home" is not an address or a zipcode, but a person or group of people. I have to chuckle when I hear grown adults say, "I'm going home this summer" or "for Christmas" and I think, I'm sure your spouse will be thrilled. What do they call the place they have their underwear drawer?

Moving takes a brand of courage that dwarfs other actions we label as courageous. We may look at someone who has climbed Denali, bungee jumped, or scuba-dived at night in shark infested waters, and think, "wow, they're brave". But would they be willing to move to a foreign country where they spoke not a word of the language and knew not a soul, with 6 children ages 2 to 14, and be 6 months pregnant, in a harsh, snowy winter? And feel not fear or self-pity, but exhilaration and excitement for new opportunities?

That was my mom.

I know that some people shake their head and pity me or think they've discovered the cause of my "eccentric nature" when they hear about my nomadic life. But to those of us who've moved - a lot, the book "Who Moved My Cheese?" is a no-brainer. We adapt. We adjust. And we find happiness wherever we are.

Disney = Dissapointment

2009-01-02T19:07:00.000-08:00

Lets get the new year off to a great start with a couple of good whiny posts.

School is out and due to the frigid temperatures we find ourselves turning to the good ol' tube for entertainment.So here's my gripe.. when did Disney get so teen? What used to be good wholesome cartoons has been replaced by some sort of demented beauty pageant for sexy preteen girls. Remember Goofy, Donald, and Mickey ? Replaced. Instead you will find a daily lineup of cute perky prepubescent looking teens like Hannah Montana,Cheetah girls and a whole slew of wannabes. Interestingly enough many of these poor kids who have been thrust into the limelight boast pop albums, clothing lines and perfumes as well. The whole Disney teen world is a multi billion dollar industry with Disney breeding and pumping out pop stars like a giant evil machine. I guess Disney couldn't pass it up; sex sells right? Good clean stuff doesn't bring in the same revenue as scantily clad teenage girls. I miss the classics and would be thrilled if Disney would consider yet another channel, except this one would be the good cartoons from my childhood.I may have just realized why we choose not to watch TV much in the first place.

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Evasive Maneuvers

2008-12-30T10:41:00.000-08:00

President-elect, Barack Obama, promised many things during his historic run for the white house, and as January 20 draws near, Americans wait, with open wallets, for him to make good on those promises. Tax cuts, new jobs, green energy (and extra cash to pay for them), etc.

But there was one, little mentioned promise, that the company I and my husband have invested in is taking steps to side-step, for the coming year, at least. What was that promise, you ask? To double the dividend tax. "But wait", you say, "He said over and over that anyone making less than $250,000 a year would not have taxes raised, but lowered".

HELLO?! Did every voting citizen in this country forget that income tax is only one of many taxes you pay and that is the only tax he promised not to raise???

So, for those of us that are not counting on the myth of Social Security to be around when we reach that magic age, nor relied on an arm-twisting union thug to squeeze pensions out of a failing company to support us forever, but actually chose where to invest our own money and counted on dividends as part of our financial strategy - we're going to feel a bit leaner for the next 4 to 8 years (increased capital gains tax, estate tax, dividend tax, and even a 401K contribution tax).

But thanks to evasive maneuvers by one company we're invested in, for us, it will only be the next 3 to 7 years. They have decided to pro-rate 2009 dividends and pay them out before the end of this year, subjecting them to the nice, low 2008 tax rate and not the promised, doubled 2009 rate.

God Bless corporate America.

Not a Creature Was Stirring....

2008-12-19T11:09:00.000-08:00

Someone call Terminix! I have had an infestation - of over-active creativity. Again. Here's my defense. My children go to a private school where they get Godiva Chocolate Sampler boxes from their classmates as treats (which I promptly confiscate as being "way too good for children"). So what I lack in funds, I have to make up for in creativity. Hence, the perennial favorite, the Christmas candy cane mouse. Lots of them. One hundred and thirty three to be exact.

Hey, they're cute, cheap and easy.

(but enough about Sean's ideal prom date.)

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Dashing to the Mail

2008-12-12T17:25:00.000-08:00

It's that time of year when many of us momentarily ditch our digital lives of email, texting, cellphones, online bill paying, and yes, facebooking, and we use that oldest of old forms of communication - the US Mail. Yes, it's Christmas letter time! The only time of year that I actually beat my children to the mailbox. I love this annual celebration of exchanging photocards and yearly wrap-ups with a little bragging thrown in gratis. And I noticed that most Christmas cards fall into one of three categories. So here they are:

The Shameless Boaster
"Little Johnny is an all-star baseball player destined for the MLB. He got all A's in his superior-brains-only classes, got the lead in the school play" and on and on it goes. Every child is a prodigy, the husband is a super successful corporate ladder climber, and the wife does triathalons and has her own scrapbooking or jewelry company. The family picture is a stunning portrait in matching outfits at an exotic location. Your smile, when you receive these letters, has a tooth grinding quality to it.

The Tom Clancy Letter
These Christmas letters usually come in multiple pages, small print. "We went to the park, Aunt Jody came to visit, we made sloppy joes for dinner and little Suzie lost a tooth. The next week...." You learn things you never knew you didn't want to know. These letters are accompanied by not one, but multiple pictures in various locations. It's like being forced to sit down on their couch and look through their family photo album while they prattle endlessly about themselves. If only there were a Cliff Notes version.

The Identity-Theft Paranoid
These are the kinds of Christmas letters that come from people in the witness protection program. They consist of a generic card that may or may not be signed with no personal word of greeting or acknowledgment. You have to look at the return address to see who it's from. There's no picture, no letter, nothing you could track them down with. All the same, they went through the trouble of putting a stamp on the envelope, so you feel a morsal of their love and holiday warmth.

But, no matter the category, I love getting Christmas cards and I devote an entire wall in my house to display them every year. As Christmas draws near the wall fills up and I try to leave them up for at least a week after I get the last one. Although if I waited for my sister, Becky, they'd be up until March. So run to your mailboxes, because my shameless bragging, Tom Clancy letter with our picture in matching outfits at the beach is on the way!

A Wealth of Stupidity

2008-12-06T12:23:00.000-08:00

I don't recall making any designer fashion purchases lately but for some unknown reason, I received a Tourneau catalog in the mail. For the mere mortals out there, Tourneau is an ultra high-end watch company that puts Gucci in Dior on the back pages for the lesser customers.

Within the glossy pages of this uber-elegant catalog were watches inlaid with gold, forged with platinum, encrusted with diamonds and/or bound with alligator leather all costing more than most people's houses. This little dandy is a Breguet Classique and can be yours at the triffling price of $214,000. No kidding.

My question is, if it takes brains to be wealthy (Paris Hilton aside) why would anyone spend that kind of money just so they can keep track of the time? Isn't high fashion just a big-time scam to dupe the ultra rich out of their money by making them believe ordinary items are worth many times their cost just because of a label or name?

I don't get it.

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I'm Coming Out

2008-12-01T21:26:00.001-08:00

Don't Panic mom ! I simply would like to take a moment to say that we all have skeletons in our closets. The skeletons of which I speak of are those songs and artists that we may not be so eager to admit that we listen to or like.

I have decided to disclose this personal information about myself because I truly believe we all have someone we listen to that others find silly, outdated, or just downright repulsive.

So here is a list of artists and songs that I like and maybe a little sentimental reason behind why I am so loyal.

First and foremost Michael Jackson. He's creepy and strange with less than one percent of his original face left ( and the rest detachable) but gosh darn it , I just want to bust a move every time I hear his old school stuff.. what can I say.

Lenny Kravits ( If he ever shows up at my door and asks me to run off with him, I told Alex, he will just have to understand.)

Billy Idol - White wedding ( if you say you don't like Billy .. you are lying)
Bobby Brown - ahh junior high school
Cake - Short skirt long jacket/ every girl wants to be like the one described in this song ( with fingernails that shine like justice)
Black eyed Peas- my kids get psychotic when I sing their songs
Boyz 11 Men - oh baby !
The Carrs - okay when I was a kid they had a video on MTV and he was a fly, after that I was hooked
Kool and the Gang - She's Fresh ( that song is so fresh)
Pet Shop Boys - Eastern Boys Western Girls .. so hot
Wyclef Jean - sometimes I just want to move to Port Au Prince, make my hair into dreads and strum my guitar on the beach.
Duran Duran - Hungry Like the Wolf
Tom Petty - a little demented .. which is just how I like it
Sting/Police - Don't stand so close to me - The theme song of every good looking male high school teacher
Toto - Africa
Toni Tony Tone - I got nothin here
Flock Of Seagulls - I ran ( when one feels like running )
Rolling stones ( table dance!)
Wang Chung ( eighties party song yeah!)
New Edition
Earth Wind and Fire ( great for romantic moments .. which people my age no longer experience)
George Michael ( I liked him before he came out okay? Besides after he did his music just wasn't that good anymore anyways. )

I think I've embarrassed myself enough .. your turn.

Christmas Sprawl

2008-11-25T17:46:00.000-08:00

Is it just me or is the Christmas season starting sooner and sooner? Time was, the official start of the Christmas shopping season was the day after Thanksgiving. On that day, my mom and sisters and I would start early in the morning leaving our digestively recovering males behind and hit the malls and shopping centers for door busters and one-day sales.

Now you see Christmas decorations, pre-lit trees, wrapping paper, gift tags, gift bags, ornaments, greeting cards, candy, and gigantic blow-up lawn creatures even before Halloween is over. Does anyone really buy these things that far in advance? I guess marketers are telling us that we must, so we do.

The trouble with this forward creeping Christmas season? My five-year-old has been asking how long until he can open his as yet non-existent presents since he spied the first 8-foot snow globe blaring "Jingle-Bells" at Walmart back on October 15th.

It's going to be a long season.

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The Very Foolish Caterpillar

2008-11-20T00:47:00.000-08:00

What would Darwin have to say about this creature who's about to eat through the leaf he is standing on? Lucky for him (or not), he's been captured by my children who are attempting for the third time to observe the miraculous metamorphosis from caterpillar to butterfly. What I have learned from this experience is, I prefer the whimsical, poop-free, Eric Carle version.

The first time they attempted to observe this, we bought a kit complete with a tented butterfly cage, fake plastic flowers, and a little card you could mail in and receive a cup full of caterpillars in return. The problem was, the bottom of the tent never secured properly and we ended up with butterflies flying around the house. Pretty as their wings may be, I do not approve of insects flying at will in the place where I eat and sleep. So we set them free - after which the unpredictable Omaha Spring weather promptly dropped to 40 degrees. (That's the epilogue Carle never published.)

The second attempt involved a single caterpillar caught on the backyard crown-flower tree which is a favorite food of Monarch larvae. He was put in a store bought insect cage with plenty of fodder and he eventually made a chrysalis. But when he emerged, his wings never fully extended and their deformed shape prevented him from flying. We set him free in the backyard thinking the fresh air would encourage proper wing formation, and he was promptly eaten by a Myna bird (who promptly died because Monarchs are poisonous - ah, the circle of death).

This time we ditched all cages and tents and made an attractive arrangement of crown-flower sprigs in a vase and each leaf had a tiny caterpillar on it. I would add new branches when they needed more food and their green pellet poop rained down like a hail storm all over the shoe shelf. They chomped away, never straying from their food source although we had a couple Darwin-award winning appetite choices which landed creepers on the floor. One which I accidently stepped on and will now have to be added to my list of grossest things I done in my life. (Imagine stepping on a goo-filled gummy bear.)
Now I have chrysalises forming on my window as the glutted caterpillars seek something stable to attach to while they do their amazing transforming act. Third time's a charm? We'll see....

City Mouse Country Mouse

2008-11-15T23:47:00.000-08:00

I realize that I am living in one of the most beautiful places in the world. Not many places can compare to Alaska with it's beautiful mountains,forests, and Aurora Borealis. People move here from all over the world. They come to hike. They hike the mountains, they scale the rocks, they hike the glaciers, they eat cliff bars and shop at REI, they join cross country skiing clubs,they do not wear makeup, they drive jeeps or Subarus with racks on top. They live for the outdoors and tell stories of hiking McKinley or windsurfing in frigid waters, or of bear encounters while camping, they bag their own feces and pack it out. Get the picture?

I work at the Center for the performing Arts in ticketing and get paid squat, but I see the shows for free. Sometimes I stand backstage and watch from behind the curtain while a jazz musician plays the trumpet to a full house and I can feel my soul. I'll watch just about any show that rolls into town. We don't get much, Alaska seems to be the last stop as a shows popularity winds down around other parts of the country. I don't care. I watch operas, modern dance, ballet, jazz, symphonies, pianists, Irish folk music, and just about anything else.

Give me New York with all of it's noise and bustle and people everywhere who look different and speak different. Give me a place where I am at the top of the food chain and have no worries of being trampled by a moose or devoured by a bear who according to experts doesn't WANT to eat people. Throw a boa around my neck, take me out to a show and let's laugh all night.

Social Networking and Your Potential Employer

2008-11-14T22:33:00.000-08:00

On that same note Ray....

You may want to remove "cheating, stealing, embezzling" from your list of favorite hobbies on your MySpace/Facebook account considering that potential employers may be checking you out. Your profile picture of you gripping a liquor bottle, eyes glazed over might just send the wrong impression.

Really folks, just the fact that you have a MySpace/Facebook almost sends the impression that you are in fact a teenager (in your head). You're already screwed, so you might as well add the newest Puff Daddy song to autoplay on your page... you know you want to.

P.S. I need one more facebook friend to make 60 so if you don't mind.....
we don't have to talk or anything

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My Inner Adolescent

2008-11-13T01:31:00.001-08:00

This week I embarked upon the strange world of modern, teenage "communication" by creating my own facebook page. I could just feel the adolescent acne and enthusiasm for Bon Jovi oozing back into my being. First I created a profile - little factoids about me, uploaded a picture of myself.... then what? I sat there wondering what my "status" and "wall" were. Then, all of a sudden, by no doing of my own, my 20-something cousin, from San Jose that I haven't seen in years was chatting with me. Like a young child leading an old blind woman, he taught me how to "update my status", "request friends", how to "poke" someone, and of course, how to write on someone's wall. What I didn't learn was, what is the point of it all?

Communication has rapidly degenerated, inversely proportionate to the development of technology. Email took the individuality of handwriting and doodles out of snail mail. Texting took inflection, tone, and proper grammar out of phone calls. And now we have facebook that takes interaction to an all new low where you simply write words into the cyber breeze and people may or may not respond. And when actual words are too hard to come up with, you can send a virtual poke, hug, chest bump, tickle or drop kick.

So why join the digital non-gab? For one thing, it gives your self-esteem a boost every time you log in and five more people want to be your friend. Of course most friends just sit in your friend collection without ever interacting, like a box of action figures or a pile of stuffed animals. Others may share virtual activities with you like going to a movie, going shopping, playing a game of virtual dodgeball, or they can even give you a virtual gift. It's like having an imaginary friend who talks back, sort of. And while it is great to reconnect with old friends from highschool and beyond, after an initial burst of curiosity about marital status, location, and number of offspring, you are reminded of why you never really bothered to keep in touch with this person all these years. And back to the stuffed animal pile they go.

Well, I shall continue to keep my facebook account for the time being. I shall update my status that only refers to me in the third person and occasionally write on my virtual friends' virtual walls. I do enjoy sharing and seeing photos. But I'm not sure the connecting benefits outweigh the addictive hours spent poking and jabbing virtual friends as a form of communication that is just that - a virtual illusion.

You Might Be A SAHM If...

2008-11-07T20:10:00.000-08:00

You use an assignment to bring a veggie tray to get attention and gain notoriety among the class moms.

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I Did it My Way

2008-11-04T16:41:00.000-08:00

The end is near and now we face the final curtains my friends. But the question remains, what will we do with ourselves now ? What will fill the empty hours once filled with calls from electronic political machines, completely void of any human warmth? What is left to possibly debate about with our family , friends, coworkers , and the random psychotic lady at the grocery store? What will take the place of the soul warming political ads on television that we so eagerly anticipated with our bowls of ice cream every evening.

My dear bloggers we must move forward and carry on, it's time to let go, to talk of other things. Soon we will learn again what it is like to be comfortable in the presence of others, even if we don't know their political affiliations, but fear not for in four years time, again we will experience the stress and intestinal turmoil that elections bring.

Happy Elections Day
Love Ambie and Ray

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D-V-Don't and V-H-Yes

2008-11-04T13:28:00.000-08:00

The evolution of technology is similar to the evoloution of organisms. Either the new species flourishes and the old one dies off, the new one dies off and the old one remains, or the two live side by side in a new balance and harmony. CDs have definitely taken the place of cassette tapes but MDs failed to take the place of CDs. Pianos replaced harpsichords but live alongside keyboards. It is nature's way.

But we humans just can't seem to keep our itchy fingers out of the way. We choose one species over another, and sometimes, one technology over another. And the results aren't necessarily for the best.

Such is the case with DVDs and VHSs. Yes, DVDs are the more advanced form of media distribution, but a niche remains for VHSs, yet they have been forceably removed from the technological gene pool.

It's no secret that my children are hard on things, and movies are no different. I have a pile of DVDs that are no longer in working condition because of sticky fingers and crumby floors, yet I had to pay more for them. On the other hand, I've had VHS cases crack and lose pieces and once I even scotch taped a pulled out and broken reel and they still work! Durability is way more important to me than seeing SpongeBob in high-def clarity.

Distributors like Costco and Walmart switched to exclusively selling DVDs not because of decreased demand for VHSs, but to minimize inventory and increase profit margins since DVDs are cheaper to make and more can be charged for them. Meanwhile, with the death of my VCR (does anyone even know what that is anymore?) I'm left in this peculiar paradox of having working movies and nothing to play them on and scratched and broken movie discs with working DVD players.

I guess we'll have to read, go outside and play, or talk to eachother for entertainment.

Spooky Advice

2008-10-27T14:43:00.000-07:00

Here is Ray's no-fail guidelines for having your child win costume contests year after year:

Rule 1:
for girls - don't dress-up as any Disney character
for boys - don't dress-up as any superhero and/or ninja/martial arts thingy

Rule 2:
Don't buy your costume at Costco.

Rule 3:
Dress up as anything that doesn't violate rules 1 or 2.

Those that know me know that I am not a frilly person. I don't decorate my house. I don't have an extensive wardrobe and neither do my children. I don't toll paint, stamp, or scrapbook. Martha Stewart, to me, is the epitome of useless froufrou.

That being said, I love to dress my kids up for Halloween. Often I end up sewing, glueing, painting, and rigging up elaborate productions that my children wear long enough for me to take a picture, then run screaming from. I also like the children's costumes to be related. So when my son wanted to be Batman, my daughter had no choice but to be Robin. Then when my older two kids wanted to be Harry Potter and Hermione, my toddler had the privilege of being Hedwig. One year I sewed a Buzz Lightyear costume that had 48 pieces and cost almost $50 in supplies alone (unfortunately my daughter was old enough to refuse to be Woody).

Of course this was all before I discovered the 3 rules to winning costume contests. I have since been dubbed the queen of useless Halloween costume froufrou.

Sonnet of Humidity

2008-10-21T20:26:00.000-07:00

HUMIDITY

As summer fades to the rains of fall
The chuckle of the brook turns to laugh.
The mold gains strength in my shower stall
And beware the abundance of staph.

Clouds billow from my spaghetti pot
Rust creeps upon my brads.
My brow beads with sweat alot,
My hair as soft as Brillo pads.

Moisture fills the heavy air,
Every breath of breeze divine.
Clammy skin sticks to the leather chair.
The laundry just steams on the line.

Who calls this "paradise" is crazy.
Or maybe they have central A/C.

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Grumpy Old Ladies

2008-10-17T19:57:00.000-07:00

There are good things about going to a "family" gym (no bare midriffs or thongs, friendly childcare, no getting hit on by creepy guys without jobs) and there are bad things about going to a "family" gym (all light rock all the time, halls full of summer camp kids). And then there are the things that are both good and bad. One of the things that fits into that last category is the grumpy old ladies that go to the water aerobics classes. When I get to the gym they are all floating in the pool; their wrinkled heads, with wide-brimmed hats and wrap-around sunglasses, bobbing around like the start of a really creepy horror flick. By the time I'm finished working out they are in the locker room, in all their unclothed, dimpled glory, sitting, standing, or showering, all the while chattering on about their grandkids and pets, their trips and their trips.

They are friendly and generally happy and I get a kick out their conversation topics that range from who of their friends died and whether their husbands are available to who had what surgery and what internal organ is now missing or replaced with a medical gadget. They always mention how young and fit I am, and how they were exactly the same when they were my age. They love hearing about my children, are flatteringly shocked that I have four, and are sure that mine are the smartest, most athletic, and cutest children ever (second only to their own grandkids, of course).

So what's the downside to this jolly, geriatric company? The visuals make me want to die young.

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While the Rich Get Thinner...

2008-10-14T12:39:00.000-07:00

Since the world was created, you could choose any time, any country, and be able to separate the wealthy from the poor purely on size. The wealthy are rotund, jolly, and red in the cheeks, looking like they can survive a couple of famines without a frown creasing their thick jowls. The poor are hollow-eyed and weary and look like one good shove or an unfortunate misstep could leave them in a broken heap of skin-covered bones.

Well, that is no longer the case. Not in the US, at least - just the opposite is true.

It's been a while since I've had to really squeeze myself into my budget. But since moving to Hawaii, the price of housing, a decent education, gas, and Froot Loops, has thrown me back into my days as a starving student, except now I have children. Because of this I have discovered how expensive it is to eat in a healthy manner. Tomatoes cost $4/lbs while I can get a case of Top Ramen for $2.

No wonder, then, that we see this bizarro-world phenomenon of the thin rich and the thick poor. Add to that the fact that hardly anyone does any manual labor anymore. We have automatic dishwashers and dryers, tv remotes, drive-through pharmacies, bread machines, leaf blowers, and power steering. Only the wealthy can afford gym memberships, personal trainers, or exercise equipment. (There has got to be some irony in the fact that we invent machines to do our work, then invent other machines to make us do work.)

How confusing to time travellers would our modern day be when they see multi-millionaire movie stars looking frail and sickly while their maids and drivers always have something comfortable to sit on.

Oh, and if anyone has any tips or suggestions on how to feed a family healthy, natural foods on a budget, I'm all...I guess on a blog you wouldn't say "ears". I'm all eyes!

In Love With A Vampire

2008-10-11T22:18:00.001-07:00

Twilight
New Moon
Eclipse
Breaking Dawn

If you have not heard of these books, you have either been living in a cave or are lucky enough to have little to no teenage contact. This series of seemingly harmless titles has for the past three years sent dreamy eyed teenage girls swarming the bookstores like bloodthirsty vampires would a blood bank.

Teenage drama books come and go with the tide but these are special .. so my teens said, and as I do not consider myself above a good read at any age level, I brought home a copy of each and braced myself for a lot of blood and gore .... Alas ! Wrong I was, instead I was treated to several s-t-e-a-m-y make out sessions. What the??? All of the sudden I felt a little embarrassed, the same way you would feel watching a steamy love scene sitting next to your kids. Is it getting hot in here?

If you haven't read them, don't. I'll sum it up for you. Girl meets vampire. Girl falls in love with vampire. Girl and vampire decide to wait to have sex until marriage (and until she can become a vampire herself) but decide that anything just short of the deed itself is okay.

What's sad is that the whole "my boyfriend's a vampire and saves me from monsters" gives teenage girls an unrealistic view of boys and men who happen to be human beings, not saviors or sex objects, not to mention the fact that the vampire boyfriend has this girl holed up in her house and will not allow her to see her friends. So let's not be surprised when our teenage daughters find some abusive controlling jerk to latch onto.

Sorry, Meyers fans, but these books are full of some pretty frightening stuff that really has nothing to do with the vampires in them and are not much better than a trashy romance novel.

Smile, You're not Dying of Dysentery

2008-10-04T01:02:00.000-07:00

It's easy to hop on the bandwagon of pessimism in an election year. It's easy to spot those that have jumped on-board by their blood-shot eyes from watching CNN and their fatalistic nihlism. They're discouraged by the quality of their choices, the system, the negative campaigning, and their idiot fellow voters. The nature of campaigning is partly to blame. Each side of an election has to convince its voters that their lives will be awful, nigh unto destroyed, if the other guy is elected. And this year we have the added doom and gloom of a financial crisis on a large scale.

It's enough to start a Prozac riot, but don't run for your torch and pitchfork just yet. You will see that your 401K is not half empty, but half full.

Believe it or not, the Founding Fathers did know what they were doing when they set up a constitutional republic 200-odd years ago. Here are a few reasons the nation will not crumble to rubble on January 20, 2009 however the election turns out.

Term Limits: Ah, the magic catapult on the top floor. No matter how popular a President, no matter how accomplished, how intelligent, how revered - after 4 or 8 years, the collective people kick him head first out the door and down the steps and look for someone else. No regimes, no dynasties, no long term manipulation of the government.

A Two-Party System: I hear so many people complain that they want more than 2 choices or that they vote for "the lesser of two evils", etc. The most important thing a two-party system does is force the candidates to please the middle majority. Think about it. If there were 5 candidates, they only have to worry about getting the most votes, not a majority, so they can afford to be more extreme and win by only appealing to 20% of the population. Having two moderate choices is better than 5 wackos, really. Still don't believe me? Try reading the platforms of the libertarian or green party candidates on the ballot. Do you really want these guys to have a serious shot at the white house?

A Resilient History: Like dramatic teenagers, we have a tendency to think that our troubles now are the worst ever! Lest we forget - this country was forged in the furnace of war and rebellion. It has seen world war on its shores, civil war, economic depression, presidential assasination and impeachment, and the rise of reality TV. And yet it not only survives, but flourishes.

So even though you may think we are surely at the doorstep of Hades with corrupted leaders, economic greed, a poor education system, racism, poverty, and celebrity activists, this nation really is, in the words of William J. Bennett, "The Last Best Hope". Where else in the world do they have pet food drives and fundraisers to save lobsters?

I'm Hungry

2008-09-29T18:00:00.000-07:00

Mom taught us that when you make a meal you can put just about anything found in the fridge in it, as long as you start by frying up hamburger meat and celery. To this base she would add things like peas, ketchup, stewed tomatoes, raisins, Italian dressing, tortilla shells, and any other condiment imaginable. Despite this seemingly horrible method of child abuse, we were grateful for her cooking for one reason, it meant that GrandMa was not cooking.

Grandma's cooking was and still is comparable to an episode of fear factor. Her specialty was soup into which what ever rotting vegetable on the counter top was thrown in. Grandma did not refrigerate her produce for reasons unknown, and when the stench became overwhelming enough or the juices began to drip on the floor, she would have us take them outback, along with all the eggshells she had been saving the past week, and throw them into the garden as compost.

Along with this came a menagerie of outdated and odd table manners we were forced to submit to, such as eating our peas on a knife. Dinnertime was always accompanied with an account on how her father had and required his children to have impeccable table manners and how we should just be grateful...not for anything in particular but just in general.

Later in my teenage years when grandma no longer lived with us we came to a sort of truce if you will. Mom was busy working and may have been somewhat put out with the mental strain of thinking up these bizarre concoctions she called meals, and we kids ( now teens ) yearned for more popular food alternatives, such as mac and cheese, pop tarts, and ramen. At some point in my life I became so ravenously hungry that "good cook" was vital in a potential mate . So I married a man ... barefoot and in the kitchen you can find him cooking up the most savory fare, recipes passed on from generation to generation and yes we and our children are very happy and pleasantly plump. Heaven bless those who can cook.

My Fantasy Book Club

2008-09-29T11:17:00.000-07:00

If I had total autonomy over the next book club I host, here is what I would plan:

I would serve Cheetos and rootbeer as refreshments. I'd have action figures and matchbox cars available. And we'd finish with a huge game of freeze tag or capture the flag. Why, you ask? Because my book club meeting would include only 8 to 12 year-old BOYS!

No, I don't have a deathwish for all my breakables (like I have any to begin with). It's just that the books I've enjoyed the most lately have come from my 9 year-old son's bookshelf. Here are my three favorite 'tween boy book series.

Peter and the Star Catchers
by Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson
This is a 3 book series written as a prequel to the Peter Pan story. The authors cleverly explain the origins of the magical elements of Peter's life, how the Darling parents meet and James M. Barrie makes a cameo appearance. The books are fast moving and action packed. They introduce new enemies beyond the bi-polar, comical Cap'n Hook, but skip the un-PC references to "Injuns" replacing them with a tropical-island tribe.

Fablehaven
by Brandon Mull
The author has published 3 of what will eventually be a 5 book series. This is your typical real-world meets fantasy-world story where the good and evil creatures keep a tenuous balance. The stories are overflowing with magical adventure including a cow of Paul Bunyan proportions, getting digested by a stone demon, a mortal-immortal love story, and a wonderful over-riding theme of being safe from evil as long as you don't invite it in.

The Lightning Thief
by Rick Riordan
This is Greek Mythology set in the modern world but in a thoughtful, clever way. Not like the cheesy "Medusa goes to the Mall" kind of books. Four books have been published with one more in the works. These books follow the adventures of Percy Jackson who is half-god half-mortal in the heroic tradition of Hercules, Theseus and Achilles. These book have not only action and adventure, but humor and wit.

Okay, so this isn't the stuff of college literature, but it does take me back to my own 'tween years of devouring Madeline L'Engle and the Chronicles of Narnia. It's great fun to talk with my son about the books, what our favorite moments and characters are, and what we think is going to happen next. It also makes me grateful I have a son and not a daughter of this age so I don't have to discuss love-sick vampires and irresolute girls with their sexual curiousity on overdrive.

shoot, I just lost all my friends.

Finding Middle Ground

2008-09-23T01:02:00.000-07:00

You would think that two people raised in the same country, similar family set-ups, the same values and religion, would not have to adjust or compromise too much when they got married. You're both on pretty much the same page and just need to make sure to turn the pages at the same time, right?

Um, wrong.

I was surprised at all the things I thought "all families did this way" which, apparently, they don't. So after 13 years of adjusting and compromising, my husband and I have created a functioning (most of the time) family that is neither a recreation of his family or mine, but a freakish, mutation of the two with a thing or two that is all our own. Here is a list of the issues we came to the marriage differing on and what we've morphed them into.

CHRISTMAS
His Family:
My husband's family is big with believing in Santa. His parents played it up alot and all his siblings believed for a long time. They have a specific traditional Christmas Eve dinner by candlelight then open all their gifts before they go to sleep. Christmas morning is dedicated to reading the Christmas story from the Bible in unison.

Her Family:
Neither me nor my siblings ever remembers a time when we believed in Santa. Our tradition was that we chose names and in secret, filled each others stockings. We opened all our gifts Christmas morning and the Bible story, got stuck in there somewhere along the way.

Our Family:
I just can't do Santa with my kids. My husband thinks I'm a huge party pooper, but I can't bring myself to lie to my children. I seriously can't. We open our gifts Christmas morning (unless we're with his family) and focus on the Bible story Christmas Eve.

PARENTING
His Family:
My husband's family is quiet, polite, and helpful. They all work hard, only say nice things to each other, and only fart in private. His parents were pretty strict growing up and didn't hesitate to "cut a switch off the ol' willow tree".

Her Family:
An aunt described us as "wild and undisciplined" and a good family friend predicted that many of us would end up in jail. We were loud, mean, and farted at will. Although chaos seemed to reign in the house, my parents were always calm, never raised their voices, and I can only think of two incidents when someone got spanked (not me).

Our Family:
If I had a willow tree, it would be bare by now. While our children tend to be wild, we try (mostly unsuccessfully) to keep a lid on it. My mother was always cool as a cucumber. I regularly freak out.

SCHEDULING
His Family:
My husband's family is not just an on-time family, they are early. They plan things in advance and execute in an organized, orderly manner.

Her Family:
We were always late - to school, church, the airport, whatever. Our attempts at planning, coordinating, and orderly execution would typically end in joyful chaos.

Our Family:
My children have been tardy to school exactly 2 times in the 5 five years I've had school kids. We get to church early and have never even come close to missing a plane. Still, we generate a lot of chaos in everything we do.

SCHOOLING
His Family:
My husband and his siblings all went to good ol' US public schools. They rode the bus and bought school lunch.

Her Family:
All my sibs and I spent at least a few years of private school and/or were driven out of district to school. My mom always made our lunches and I only rode a bus for two of my thriteen years in school.

side note: All of my sibs and my husband's sibs graduated from the same university.

Our Family:
Our kids currently attend private school and before that went to charter schools. They've never ridden a bus to school and only occasionally buy school lunch.

CARS
His Family:
Only cars made in the US of A

Her Family:
Only cars made outside the US of A

Our Family:
We have a Camry and an Odyssey. Nuff said.

My Nipple Nightmare

2008-09-20T02:15:00.000-07:00

It's supposed to be the most natural instinct. The amazing human body creates new life and brings it into the world. That amazing body is also equipped to feed that new life and women from Eve on down have been doing it and propagating the species for over 6000 years. Apparently if I had been Eve, humans would never have made it past the second generation. The only reason my babies have survived is through the miracle of technology that has brought us formula, the bottle, and an indispensible invention called "the nipple shield".

I know, it sounds like the top half of "the chastity belt" and looks like a rice paddy hat, but it really is the only way my abundant-in-size/deficient-in-milk, um, feedbags, can do their god-given task. It's a cross between wearing Madonna cones and siphoning gas out of your car.

I don't know why other mothers and babies all over the world, through all the ages can fit together like keys in a lock and I'm the only one trying to shove a watermelon into a keyhole and wondering why it isn't working. I envy the mothers who can pull the all-night feedings half asleep by basically lifting the flap. I, on the other hand, have to go through a 10-step process that leaves me and baby frustrated, crying, and ready to throw in the breast pad.

But I trudge on with my trusty nipple shield of faith knowing that someday, somehow all this effort will be worth it.

Got Corruption?

2008-09-19T22:08:00.000-07:00

I don't know about everybody else but it seems that everyone in our local government is under fire for some sort of corruption, here's the low down here in AK

Senator Ted Stevens : About to begin trial in D.C. for accepting bribes from oil company executives which include such things as home remodeling and properties among other things totaling about 250k. The man must be at least 150 years old and comes from a time when such behavior was easier to keep on the down low.

Sarah Palin: Under Investigation for firing the public safety commissioner because he would not fire her x brother in law during her sisters divorce. Okay ... the man tazed /tazered his stepson and was caught drinking while on the job.. in his patrol car! How did this man not get fired a long time ago ? Sarah claims commissioner Monogan took unauthorized trips to D.C. to promote his own spending agenda. Sarah Palin: Deflating ego's one jerk at a time, any way she can.

Mayor Mark Begich: Recently fined for failing to disclose all of his income including campaign contributions from less that savory political characters also under investigation. When the crap hit the fan Mark quickly donated the funds to charity.

The moral of the story is: If you are running for office, unless you are as pure as a newborn baby, chances are, someone will find your third grade teacher and discover you once cheated on a spelling test, after which you will be hunted down and harpooned like a humpback whale. Keep it clean people.

Can't Find the "Fun" in Fundraising

2008-09-17T01:13:00.001-07:00

If I tried to support myself by selling Amway, I would die of starvation - and I don't feel like that's a bad thing.

It's that time of year again, when my kids' school does their big fundraiser. Where the students and parents are encouraged to hit up their friends, neighbors, and family for money in exchange for overpriced crap in the name of education. All I can say is, I'm glad my family lives far away, my neighbors already hate us for being the noisiest house on the block, and I don't have any local friends - because I am terrible at sales!

I absolutely loath begging people for money, which is basically what fundraising is because in all honesty, who pays $11 for a roll of wrapping paper, $15 for a tub of cookie dough, or $20 for a set of coasters printed with whimiscal cats? I hate putting people in the awkward position of really wanting to say no but having coming up with a polite way to do so. So what I end up doing is paying for all the junk myself and giving it away as Christmas presents. Better to be a tacky gift-giver than an annoying panhandler.

I remember one of Ambie's teenage daughters was given the task of pre-selling rubber wristbands in her school colors. She asked if I would buy one and when I said "no thanks" she flopped on my couch and every 10 minutes or so, would ask me again. "Raaaaaayyyy", I'd hear in a low hissing voice I imagine Satan would have, "buy a bracelet from me. Raaaaaayyy." I ended up buying two just to get her off the couch. With my money safely in her pocket she then commenced telling me how she's the number one seller in her class. Effective. I just can't do that.

My problem is I now have 3 school kids and the amount of selling we have to do has gone up and I just don't need that many cat coasters. What to do? Risk the few acquaintances I do have to push sales? Pay to ship useless stuff my family doesn't need but who are willing to support us? Fork over more of my own money (like paying 5 digit tuition isn't enough)? Or shall I just drop the fundraising ball altogether and hope it doesn't reflect in my childrens' transcripts?

No wonder I never made it as a Girl Scout.

Who's Nose is ThAT ?

2008-09-13T23:26:00.000-07:00

We were blessed with a beautiful new baby girl this past week who looks nothing like anyone else in the family. All the rest had hair whereas this little peanut has none, but more surprisingly the nose this child was born with could not have come from me or Alex. We are looking into the family history for anyone French or Jewish. All kidding aside she is beautiful and we are so blessed.. seriously.
there is no

The Low-Energy Child

2008-09-10T16:24:00.000-07:00

I have a son who has left a trail of teachers rethinking their career choices in his wake. He has the energy of an atom-bomb, the volume of a rock concert, the curiosity of a dozen cats, and the impulsiveness of a college student with his first credit card. I've come out of many a parent-teacher conference feeling apologetic, sympathetic, frustrated, and sometimes homicidal all at the same time. It's been a rockin' roller coaster ride, to say the least.

I have a daughter who is a school teacher's dream. She's quiet and compliant, but not reticent or shy. She raises her hand often but never speaks out of turn. She does her work neatly, carefully, and follows all the rules. At her parent-teacher conferences, I hear nothing but glowing praise and compliments for my daughter, me and my husband, our parenting, our intelligence, and on and on.

and this is my cry for help because I am at my wits end struggling with...

my daughter!

I recently instated a "chore chart" in our house. It's a pretty standard thing with chores such as washing the dishes, washing the car, cooking the rice, cleaning the bathroom, taking out the trash, etc. Instead of rotating the chores weekly or even monthly, we're going quarterly to minimize the confusion, let the kids develope some expertise, and so no one accuses anyone else of doing a sloppy job making it harder for the next person.

When it's chore time, my son eagerly jumps to his tasks and gets them done. Sometimes he needs to be reminded to do things thoroughly and sometimes he makes another mess in the process, but he takes the corrections good naturedly and does everything he's asked in a timely manner.

My daughter on the other hand, no matter what she was previously doing, when asked to do her chores she dramatically falls to the floor declaring that she's tired. What follows is an hour or two of whining, crying, and rolling around on the floor. She eventually does get her tasks done but only if I watch her closely and repeat directions over and over (and invariably louder and louder). It's serious drama and it's driving me CRAZY!

I've tried one passive-aggressive way to motivate her to get things done in a decent amount of time. I've designated 4:30p - 5:00p as family trampoline time, but only those who have their homework and chores done can jump. The kids love it when I jump with them and we play a lot of games or put the sprinkler underneath. Well, my daughter didn't make the deadline and got left out once - and the crying, pouting and declaring that we were all mean was worse than ever. And she still didn't get her chores and homework done.

Anyone have any good ideas about how to motivate a reluctant, low-energy child? Otherwise I'm investing in a defibrillator.

The End is Nigh...maybe

2008-09-09T13:26:00.000-07:00

Forget the four horsemen of the apocalypse. The end of the world may actually be ushered in by four nerds in labcoats. On Wednesday, scientists will fire up the world's largest and most powerful atom smasher which some believe may create tiny black holes that will engulf the entire planet. I hope that was listed among the "occupational hazards" in the contracts of the 3,000 people employed at the site. Something along the lines of, "You may be exposed to loud noises, frequent references to Star Trek, and gravitational forces strong enough to reduce you and the entire planet to the size of a subatomic particle."

The end of the world isn't the only cost of the operation. The "Large Hadron Collider", the cavernous machine that will be doing the atom smashing, includes a large circular tunnel over sixteen miles around and cost over 2 billion dollars to construct. It basically takes a stream of protons and accelerates them around the tunnel in one direction, then accelerates another stream in the opposite direction hoping that some of the protons will collide - then they see what "pieces" go flying out. It's kind of like trying to find out how a car works by driving two of them headlong into each other at high speeds, then studying the wreckage.

It's no wonder I found my quantum physiscs class in college a little - weird. It wasn't just about learning the differences between quarks, leptons, bosons, muons, and pions. But these subatomic particles also have "flavors" which are designated as up, down, strange, charm, top, and bottom. Is drug use high amongst particle physicists?

In any case, since the world may come to an end tomorrow, you might want to think about what you want to do today. Will you tell your family you love them? Resolve your differences with an enemy? Climb the mountain or take the bungee jump of your dreams? Finally get the guts to tell your neighbor that her lawn ornaments are tacky and your children really did cause the death of her missing cat? Whatever you do, do it fast because there are less than 24 hours before the release of the protons of doom. See you on the other side...

...and then there were ten

2008-09-05T15:31:00.000-07:00

When God told Adam and Eve to "multiply and replenish the earth", Alex and Ambie took it seriously. I think they have mixed in the term "exponentially" to the "multiply". So congratulations, my dear friend, on the birth of your seventh daughter (ten children in all)! I'm sure she'll fit right in in no time.

You know what this means, Ambie? You will never be free of those panting, glassy-eyed teenage boys trying to break down the door and scale the walls of your house. They're like a pack of hungry zombies except what they're looking for is not "brains" (it starts with a "B", though).

there is no
the end

An Exile's Election

2008-09-03T14:59:00.001-07:00

Have you ever ordered something from a catalog, or a TV offer, or even ebay? Unless you've walked in my and Ambie's shoes you've probably never noticed the horrible little words at the bottom of the page following an asterisk. "available only in the 48 contiguous states" or "not applicable in Alaska or Hawaii" How does that make us feel? Kind of like going to a birthday party when you're five years old and the mom is handing out cupcakes until she gets to you and she says, "sorry, this doesn't apply to you." We're invited to the party, but we can't have the treats.

While away from my home in Alaska, I needed to get a pair of replacement contacts. Since I got them from Costco, I figured it would be easy to order even away from home. I told the young lady at the counter I needed my prescription from Alaska so she pulled out the list of all Costcos and started looking down the column of international stores. No kidding.

"Um, Alaska is one of the 50 states", I said.

"Oh really?" She flipped the list over to the domestic side and when she found it (the second one on the alphabetical list) she said, "Whaddaya know!"

I've lived in both Alaska and Hawaii and so has Ambie. We know what it's like to be "an exile among friends". We feel like we were added just to make it a nice round 50, but we have to stay in the basement when the guests arrive. Never mind that we supply everyone else with oil, natural gas, gold, pineapples, sugar, and really cool places to vacation. Trying to point these things out just makes our case more pathetic, though.

You never hear people from California say, "Hi, I'm from California, you know, where 38% of the nation's oranges come from, where Gary Coleman is from, and where they discovered gold in the 1800s". You only hear stuff like that from states' residents who feel it necessary to "put their home state on the map". You'll hear people from Nebraska proudly say that it is the birthplace of former President Gerald Ford, Malcolm X, and Marge Helgenberger from CSI.

So here we have an election where, no matter who wins, we have a person in charge who represents the "forgotten states". And either one will make history - we never do anything "normally" out here on the fringes.

You know you're from a small state when the news is filled with the notoriety of fellow and/or former residents where ever they are. You'll see articles in the paper about "Hawaii's own" so-and-so "who made it to round 3 in 'Who Wants to Be a Millionaire'" or "landed the lead role in Florida County Community Theater's version of 'Christmas in the Land of Oz'". So you can imagine the Obama-fest that has been raging here on the islands since his ascendency on the national stage. I drive past his alma mater twice a day (in Hawaii, it's all about where you graduated from highschool). So although he has never said, "da kine" in a speech, worn an aloha shirt on the campaign trail, lauded the virtues of poi, or given a "shaka" out to his supporters, it's all love all the time around here.

Now, Ambie reports that within hours of the Republican VP announcement, there were McCain/Palin T-shirts for sale at the State Fair and everyone was wearing one by the end of the day. Alaska has been a hot topic on the political/environmental front for a while but no one actually from Alaska has ever risen to the forefront because of it until now. (okay, there was Ted Stevens, but he's hardly a household name.) There's finally someone of national note that uses the term "hockey mom" as opposed to "soccer mom". In Alaska, soccer is just a game you play when there's no ice (that's about 45 days) to keep in shape for hockey.

So forget that he's a black, male Democrat and she's a white, woman Republican, because they have a lot in common. They're both relative newcomers to the national stage, they're both running with an old white guy with experience, they'll both be a "first" if elected, and most importantly, they both know what it's like to live under an oppressive and exclusionary catalog ordering regime.

Shackin' Up with my Husband

2008-08-29T13:09:00.000-07:00

"Honey, I'm home!"

I have some really awesome news to share. My husband and I have finally reached that point in our relationship and decided to move in together!!! Yes, you read that right - my husband and I. We just celebrated our 13th wedding anniversary but have been living apart for the better part of the last year and a half. For five months, the kids and I lived in Omaha while he was in Southern California. For three blissful months of constant beach-going, surfing, snorkeling and boogie-boarding, we all lived together on Maui. But for the past year, the kids and I lived on Oahu while my husband stayed on Maui. Now, after a long and crazy, and I do mean crazy, time, my husband has finally joined us on Oahu. It is so good to be a complete family again.

I don't know how single mothers do it.

It really seems like parenting was made for two people, and not just for using the ol' good cop/bad cop thing. There has to be someone there, when things get tough, to say, "It's okay, kids. She's not really going to tear your limbs off. But just in case, maybe you should go clean up your room" and then hide the axe and guard the knife drawer.

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First day of ....Stool?

2008-08-26T00:05:00.000-07:00

Morning in Kailua

My kids' first day of school dawned beautifully. A warm gentle breeze in the palm trees, myna birds and cardinals filling the air with warbling, the earthy and organic smell of ....sewage? What I mistook for my neighbor's dog having a poop fest in my yard again was actually my new Kindergartener having an accident in his bed overnight. And I'm not talking about a simple case of bedwetting. Call it a case of nerves.

I had envisioned heralding in the new school year by waking up early, cooking a hot breakfast of eggs, spam, and rice, dressing up the kids, and taking a plethora of pictures to commemorate this annual rite of passage. But what I actually did was re-bathe my distressed 5 year old, scrub the carpet, a mattress and a trail leading up to the kids' bathroom toilet. The kids' had cold cereal and I snapped one picture while contradictively yelling at them to hurry and get in the car. So much for heralding.

We resumed the twice daily journey through carnivorous Honolulu traffic. When we got to school I had just enough time to walk each child to his or her class, meet each teacher and refrain from saying, "good luck, sucker!" to my oldest son's teacher with a wicked cackle.

I know I should be weepy and forlorn as I send my precious little ones into the care of complete strangers for the majority of their waking hours - but all I could do as I drove away was heave a sigh of gratitude for the peace and quiet of a minivan carrying just one child. It is one of life's great ironies that you don't appreciate the simplicity of having just one child until you've had four.

A Mother's Olympic Dream

2008-08-20T23:05:00.000-07:00

Watching the mother of Michael Phelps never gets old. I'm amazed at how she shows so much emotion even after he's won so many medals. Every parent, whether or not they will admit it, wants this for their children ,the ultimate success... yes even I who relishes mediocrity so, desire to see my children achieve so great an honor.

Probably the two greatest Olympic sports must be synchronized swimming and trampoline gymnastics.. and oh yeah the one where the girls twirl ribbons ( does anyone know if there is a men's division in any of these)? Sometimes as I watch my daughters dance around the living room I think to myself "wow ! That move looks like something right out of the best ribbon twirling routine"! I can tell my children have so much promise. When Olivia does a handstand at the pool I swear I get the chills and when I see Alexa jump on the trampoline so gracefully, I know it's meant to be.

Sadly for Victor there is not much hope as the only other sports are regular swimming ( boring !) and like running and jumping over these wall things that just seem to tip over so easily (lame-o). There should be mens twirling because gymnastics with ribbons is so much prettier and the athletes just seem to work harder and are so much more popular.

All of my kids have the potential to win gold and I will be that mom, in the stands weeping with joy as I watch each child straining as they point their toes in the water and win the gold.

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Confessions of a Carny

2008-08-19T00:32:00.000-07:00

I thought that since Ray was doing the right thing by confessing her cussing ways, ( the woman swears like a drunken sailor) I would stay with the theme and reveal to all you classy readers that I am in fact nothing more than a carnival worker. It's true... well sort of. I don't operate greasy rides and spit tobacco juice, but rather Alex and I tease hair into mohawks, spikes, and various other shapes and paint them wild colors. This is our talent. Some are engineers and some are lawyers or builders, we build hair. Alex can make hair into an island with a palm tree, or a ladybug, or a unicorn, or a television set, and I paint the hair with spray paint made for hair.We sweat and toil in working conditions that include hours upon hours of techno music that could turn anyone's brain into liquid, and mobs of kids and sweaty teenagers. We love it. If anyone lands in Alaska around August 20th, the mohawks on us.

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God's Way of Telling Me to "Shut It!"

2008-08-18T19:04:00.000-07:00

I don't cuss. I thinks it's unbecoming especially for a woman to cuss. I also think that most cussing is just the result of not being bright enough to think of a more clever way to say things. That being said, I unapologetically use all the words that are in the Bible. Hey, if God uses them, surely it's okay if we use them. Practice what you preach, and all.

A couple summers ago I had an experience not unlike Zacharias, the father of John the Baptist. I was at Girls' Camp (as a leader, I said "a couple" of summers ago, not "many, many" summers ago) and I happened to make use of one of my more favorite words from the Bible. And I immediately lost my voice. I didn't have a cough, a sore throat, a fever, or anything - I had literally been struck dumb. I didn't fully recover my voice for about 3 months.

For a year or two after that experience I struggled with keeping my voice around. It was such a skittish thing, like a commitment-averse boyfriend - coming and going with no rhyme or reason. I even went to an ENT who happily removed my tonsils which improved things for a month. Finally, for the past year or so, I reached a point where I knew if my children misbehaved I could reliably bellow at them as needed.

Until now.

The voice is gone again. Maybe it's time to bleep my Biblical babble. Damn!

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nope, no more I say.

China Gives World Inferiority Complex

2008-08-13T01:32:00.001-07:00

After watching the Chinese women kick our rear ends in Gymnastics immediately following the beat down our mens team got the night before, I am starting to well... feel a little insecure. There teams seem so together, so flawless, so determined, and the Americans seem a little more unpredictable and almost dysfunctional.It's really been making me squirm in my cozy recliner. Gee I bet those two U.S. teams felt a little sad. It's a good thing they have such a great support system. I bet their coaches consoled them and their hometowns will welcome them home like heroes. I bet the American athletes that messed up the worst won't even be thrown in jail. I think it's great that even they will get a pat on the back and a "better luck next time". They probably won't even be disowned by their families, and it's doubtful that they will even consider suicide as a way to restore honor to their countries and families after the huge failure of winning only silver or bronze.

I suppose that even after the dust settles we Americans will still view these athletes as human beings worthy of praise, love, and appreciation for their sacrifices, and after seeing the relief on the Chinese mens gymnastics coach's face , it might be a good thing that they won because who knows what the rest of his life might have been like.

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Funny Blogs vs. Venting Blogs vs. Mommy Blogs ...

2008-08-12T02:33:00.000-07:00

Ray and I have done months of research on this topic and have discovered some key differences between the different types of blogs out there, namely content and who is commenting. Here is a list of helpful information when navigating the wonderful world of blogs. We like lists, they spare us the humiliation of grammatical errors.

Angry Venting blogs- for some odd reason usually go hand in hand with politics, although some are used to publicly humiliate lazy friends or by religious fanatics all equally linked to Satan and possibly Wal Mart(according to our sources in Arkansas).The folks who comment on these blogs are usually full of testosterone and ready for a battle. In the old days these same types of people could be found in angry mobs wielding torches.

Mommy Blogs- used mostly by those who wish to keep in contact with friends and loved ones far away but also used by some who need constant reassurance that their children are good looking, talented, and academically above average. The lovely people commenting on these blogs I like to call the support team, they are quick to respond to new pictures with oohs and ahhs and an encouraging comment such as " wow Johnny sure is a genius" !

Funny Blogs - So far we have found that they are elusive not unlike Big Foot and we have only found a couple worthy of our time. Some are crude and some are side splitting depending on what ones flavor of humor is. The comments found on these are usually done in the spirit of adding to the joke. Strangers commenting to each other on a funny post always seem to lead to more laughs which according to recent studies leads to a longer life and almost instantaneous weight loss. ( Okay that last part was a lie) but I swear it makes me feel better about being fat.

Any Comments?

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The Most Valued Flab in the World

2008-08-12T01:28:00.000-07:00

One of my daughters has always been a little obsessed with boobs. When she was a toddler she was always poking at them (mine) and as soon as she learned to talk would walk around chanting "Boob! Boob! Boob!" as she was learning to write we would frequently find the word "boob" written in the dirt on the car. The same daughter later vowed she would name her first child boob in honor of those two friends who had always brought her comfort and once food.

I am no fan of boobs. They're in the way (for some of us) and move around when they shouldn't. I often wonder why some women want them so badly. Do they understand that these are just adding their overall body fat? Do they know what will happen to them in 20 years? In 40? Before a woman decides to have hers inflated, I would suggest going for a run and feel the beauty of nothing jumping and just remember bouncing later turns to flapping.

I have a dear friend who always wanted more than she was naturally given. So in desperation she finally turned to the “water bra” a safer alternative to surgical breast enhancement. She swears this is the way to go for that added size. I say why add the weight? Extra weight in that general area only adds additional stress on the back.

Tsk tsk all for the sake of vanity.
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Safe Delusion

2008-08-11T13:36:00.000-07:00

Lesson 2 in Parenting 101 (see also Lesson 1) is that you must spend thousands of dollars on equipment to keep your child safe. If you don't people will glare at you and seriously consider calling Child Protective Services because your children are obviously "at risk". So get out your credit cards or take out a hefty loan because keeping your little one safe will require at the minimum:

a carseat (actually a couple of carseats, one to face backward under 20 lbs, one to face backward over 20 lbs, one to face forward up to 60 lbs, and a booster seat for up to either age 8, 80 lbs, or 4 foot 8 in. Got that?), a gate for the stairs, locks for the cabinets and drawers, helmets in several styles and sizes, plugs for all the outlets, a life vest or better yet a swim suit with floatation devices built in, a temperature regulator for the bath and a soft faucet guard, a net to go around the trampoline and a fence to go around the pool, a lock for the fridge, a rail for the bed, and well, you may as well bubble wrap the whole house because there's bound to be something potentially pokey, aka dangerous, in there.

Safety is great, right? Think safety first. Nothing more important than safety. The problem? Children aren't learning how to be safe because they are prevented from encountering anything remotely dangerous.

No, I'm not saying chuck all the stuff on the "neurotic saftey parent" list. Carseats are required by law, but the age and size of child that needs one keeps going up. As the laws are right now, my husband would have been driving himself to school in a booster seat. Gone are the days of my mother who used to drive and nurse a baby at the same time.

But a lot of the equipment actually hinders a child's ability to detect, gauge, and avoid danger. Like my sister who very responsibly kept gates at the top and bottom of her stairs whose children could not navigate them until almost age 2. I've never used stair gates and my babies learn to descend feet first on their tummies before they can walk.

I thought we were being so safety conscious by choosing a house on a traffic free cul-de-sac, until my son bolted down my friend's driveway on his bike into a street full of cars without looking. We also have a net around our trampoline and our children safely bounce into it with nary a broken bone or spinal cord injury - until they happen upon a trampoline without a net and they have no concept of staying on the darn thing.

Even less humorous is the mom who always put a life vest on her 3-year-old when she was in the pool. I mean always. The child hardly touched the water without it on and most doctors and childcare experts would applaud her devotion to safety. But her daughter had to go to the bathroom mid-swim and forgot to put the vest back on and the result was tragic. Because of the life vest, she had no fear or sense of caution around the water. The life vest also gave the mom a false sense of security making her attentiveness lax. So in the end, did it really keep her safe?

Delivery Room Etiquette

2008-07-30T01:01:00.000-07:00

I love my sister but do I have to watch the baby be born? The honest truth is I kind of just wanted to see the sweet little new baby and not my sister in horrible pain. Honestly I don't want bleachers set up at my upcoming delivery either. So what's the protocol here? Who should be allowed and who's feelings are going to end up hurt? How did so many people get invited to this party anyway? It reminded me of high school when you invite 3 people over and they invite more people and the next thing you know you were trying to break up a gang war in your driveway.

So there we were lining the halls at my sisters delivery waiting for the pushing to be over so we could all flood in like something resembling the running of the bulls. Poor Jessica, I wondered if she was annoyed but soon realized that she was in too much pain to care about the family reunion taking place around her bed.

To avoid this kind of chaos, there must be some sort of guide as to what is appropriate at a delivery both in attendance and conduct of those invited to be present at the birth of my next child.

1. If you haven't seen IT in my adult life, neither will you see IT now. Use your imagination.

2. This is not a spectator sport. if you enjoy watching pain and suffering take a plane ride with Ray and her kids.

3. There must be no laughing, gasping, smiling, eating, giggling, moving, touching, shifting, or breathing in the room for the duration of the labor. So unless you are a statue, good luck.

4. There is a reason why it's called labor, labor = work, so unless I have ever invited you to watch me attempt an excruciating workout in the nude, count yourself out.

5.It's my party and I'll cry if I want to.... or yell.. or scream.

6. Please do not bring your children. The only children that will be allowed in the delivery room are my own which by the way you will be attending to.

7. No electronic devices will be allowed on the premises without my prior consent including: ipods, cell phones, video cameras, cameras, video games, laptops etc.

8. Flowers, gifts, remarking on the babies exceptional beauty, and foot massages are always welcome.

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My Personal Inferno

2008-07-29T03:46:00.000-07:00

What you think hell is:
You're returning from a Hawaiian vacation tired, sunburned, and possibly hungover and now you're stuck on an airplane full of crying babies and toddlers kicking your seat and toys being thrown at you for 7 unending hours.

What hell actually is:
You're flying to the mainland for a vacation and you're stuck on an airplane full of tired, sunburned and hungover tourists and you have the ONLY crying baby or tantrum-throwing toddler. And everyone stares at you with their weary, blood-shot eyes like you're either the worst parent ever or the devil incarnate. And your normally docile and contented child simply will not settle down despite your 30 lb backpack full of toys, snacks, books, and candy.

If you can't tell, I'm more than a little nervous about flying with my little bundle of fury. I am truly sympathetic to all those that have to sit around me because I know first hand (and ear) how annoying the sound of a crying, whining child is. But all those profane death threats and slander on the marital status of my parents are really unhelpful to the situation at hand.

I am making a promise right now that whatever stage of life I'm in, if I hear a child throwing a doozie of a tantrum in public, the parent(s) will get nothing from me but sympathy, patience and support. Now excuse me while I pack a full Thomas train set and a six-pack of tictacs.

Name Shame

2008-07-24T12:42:00.000-07:00

I've always felt sorry for children that have to live with the ridiculous names their parents gave them. For a while the oh-so-cute trend was to give your child a traditional name with a "creative" spelling, like my poor niece, Sydni. Then the isn't-that-sweet bandwagon was to smash together two common names creating a new hideous mutant lifeform, like Jennica, Janessa or Ambriah. Now the just-so-darling trend is to combine common syllables in "creative" ways. So take normal syllables like, tay, jay, kai, kee, mor, bree, or cam and attach it to lin, ler, non, gan, ly, or dan.

I thought the US had to be leading the world in the dumb names race. But we're not. Not by a long shot.

A New Zealand judge ordered the name of a girl in the middle of a custody battle to be changed and she would remain a ward of the court until the change was official. The offending monicker?

Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii

Oh dear.

Some other names that have been blocked are Fish and Chips, Yeah Detroit, Stallion, Twisty Poi, Keenan Got Lucy, and Sex Fruit. But unfortunately, these are still legal and belong to actual human beings, Number 16 Bus Shelter, Midnight Chardonnay, and Violence. I'll never again lament my son's preschool class roll of Morgan, Keegan, Taylin, Taylor, Jayden, Kylin, Kaylee, and Camden.

Let's Party, Hawaiian Style!

2008-07-22T14:30:00.000-07:00

There are things that I love, really love, hate, and really hate about living in Hawaii. This one falls under the "really love" category. I absolutely love Hawaiian style graduation parties. Now, when I graduated from highschool, the only real difference I noticed was my dad added, "and pay your tuition on time" to his constant mantra of, "anything less than an A is unacceptable". When I graduated from college, I threw myself a party with hamburgers, chips, and two-liters of rootbeer and I received an alarm clock and a picture frame as gifts. I thought this was pretty standard.

Not in Hawaii.

A grad party in Hawaii requires several pick-up truck loads of food with no less than five meat-related main dishes, at least three salads containing macaroni and absolutely NO grass skirt trimming around the tables or cylindrically symmetric, tissue paper pineapple center pieces.

Families honestly spend thousands and thousands of dollars on these parties and wouldn't dream of combining, say, all the kids from one highschool or two best friends' parties. Each party is fully decked out in towering floral and balloon arrangements, center pieces that are actually large party favors containing items reflecting the interests of the grad, live bands with plenty of ukuleles, and enough food to sustain a small, third-world country for a month.

All of June and July is grad party season and I haven't cooked on a Saturday night in a long time. Last weekend we went to the party of a grad we didn't even know, but his aunties invited us so we happily went. We walked in and the happy grad kissed me on the cheek and slapped my husband on the back and it was party time. The family of the grad spends the evening, cooking, serving, cleaning, laughing loudly, asking everyone if they've gotten enough to eat, and pressing more food on them regardless of the answer.

I'm afraid I've been ruined forever. Croissant sandwiches, nut cups and chalky mints wrapped in netting will never satisfy me now.

"Like Oh my Gosh Your baby is like so cute "!

2008-07-21T00:10:00.000-07:00

This Saturday I took my 15 year old to Plato's Closet to pick out an outfit to wear to a wholesome, good clean, no touching, church dance and I kid you not there was no less than 3 teenage pregnant girls and at least that many dragging a kid or kids around with them pawing through racks of short skirts and tube tops looking for something totally hot to wear while their kids tugged on their designer jeans and cried for candy, "yeah whatever just be quiet here's a sucker". You may wonder where I have been the last 20 or so years that would create so much astonishment in my little sheltered mind, the answer to this question is : at home teaching my daughters not to do well.. that, praying, and sweating like a pig in heat. oops don't say in heat at least not at my house. Ok I never saw Juno. I know what it is. I don't give a crap what the positive message is at the end. Cool teen gets knocked up. I don't need to know anything else. My teens begged me to see it which caused alarms to go off like crazy, which eventually eased into a dull painful suspicion, which was only eased after the teens all admitted that they really didn't want to see that movie anyway it's like so old already anyways. Any proven preventative measures? Please share. My bowels are in constant distress.

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Teacher, I Have a Question.

2008-07-14T03:28:00.000-07:00

I have an honest question for those of you with interests in public school whether it be as a teacher or current, potential, or past parent of elementary school children. There's a lot of verbage flying around about the "infamous" No Child Left Behind Act and most of it is negative. As I understand it, the NCLB Act basically makes schools accountable for the performance of their students on standardized tests and those that underperform or don't show "adequate yearly progress" are in jeapardy of losing their funding.

Most of the criticism I've heard from teachers is that the year becomes so test focused that there is little time or budget left to do anything else. They say that PE, Music and Art classes, and even field trips are being eliminated to prepare for the tests.

So my question is, what is classroom time being spent on that is so important but doesn't help students pass a test of the most basic of academic skills?

My elementary school, and beyond, experiences of standardized testing are essentially the-relaxing-week-where-we-take-a-ridiculously-easy-test. There are bubble sheets and test booklets and the teacher brings a novel to read while we work the day away. No, I'm not some kind of genius child, nor did I go to a magnet school or prep school (not until my senior year, anyway). Everyone thought it was easy. I honestly remember a question on a third grade test where we had to identify "which one is a picture of a dog who is angry?"

So where is the problem? If schools can't provide a way for students to learn these fundamental skills, why is our hard earned money going to pay for them?

As I hear people shout that NCLB is unfair, ineffective, or unnecessary, it sounds like people demanding their right to be remedial. "Don't MAKE us do well in school! Just call what we're doing GOOD!" I don't know of any other industry where the management, employees and customers alike seek all sorts of excuses for why business is bad and fight against attempts to make it better.

I saw the most pathetic thing on a "news mag" show where a highschool boy struggled to read. (that's not the pathetic part) There was a meeting with his teachers, some school administrators and his mother and they "discussed" his needs. Afterward his mother expressed her frustration that for all these meetings, her son still struggled to read. So the news mag sponsored him to go to The Sylvan Learning Center for a month after which he jumped 3 grade levels in his reading skills. For all those "action meetings" someone just needed to sit down and TEACH THE BOY TO READ! (that's the pathetic part - the school, the teachers, the parent, no one could figure out how to teach a student to read)

My humble opinion - that school needs to lose it's funding and the students given the opportunity to attend a school that actually teaches. What a waste.

Big Chief Red Face

2008-07-12T01:53:00.000-07:00

If you ever take a Parenting 101 class, you will learn that you are a complete loser and a failure as a parent unless you are "involved". What that exactly means in the practical world can range from coaching your child's soccer team, to volunteering in your child's classroom, to arranging your child's marriage. I am intrigued/bemused/horrified by all the different forms and levels of "involvement" parents choose to have in their children's lives and the effect it has on them (the children and the parents). Trying to adjust my own "parental footprint" is like holding an egg - squeeze too hard and it cracks, hold too loosely and it falls and breaks.

Now I realize that I certainly don't have all the answers nor do I think that I'm doing everything right - but I do know when someone's gone over the edge. Such is the case with the mother of my son's Kindergarten classmate. A woman I call Big Chief Red Face.

The first time I met BCRF was on the first day of Kindergarten. The students already had their first assignment ready to turn in which was a paper flower they were supposed to put their picture on and decorate. Most of the flowers clutched in these 5-year-old's hands had colorful scrawls of marker or crayon and a few had glitter or feathers glued in place. BCRF was holding her daughter's creation held flat on her upward-turned palm like a waiter. It was a mosaic in colored rice that looked like it was patterned after a Tibetan monastery floor. When BCRF jr. tried to grab her flower to show her friend BCRF held it up out of reach saying, "no no no no no no".

Trying to be a good "involved" parent, I signed up to volunteer in the classroom about once a month. Every time I went into the classroom, whether it was to volunteer, ask the teacher something or run a paper or lunch into the classroom, BCRF was there. I went in at random enough times to say that I think she was there every day of the school year! She watched her daughter like a hawk and intervened any time she thought her daughter needed correcting, scolding, protection, direction, anything. I saw her yank her daughter out of the classroom for lectures and even timeouts.

I may not be a child development expert or even a parenting expert, but I think it's safe to say that BCRF jr. will either grow up to resent and rebel against her mother or grow up spineless and incapable, looking to her mother to do everything and choose everything for her.

There are mothers in my life that I look up to and try to pattern my own parenting principles on. Mothers that look to guide rather than control, that work with, not against their children, the ones that teach principles, not just rules. But most of all, the mothers that have found serenity in their choatic lives - that have a peaceful and centered balance about them.

And y'know what? Big Chief Red Face ain't one of them!

"Mating" Socks

2008-07-08T16:17:00.000-07:00

Growing up, we had a big oval wicker laundry basket with handles and it was always full of socks. The sock basket. If we needed a pair of socks we'd simply dig through the sock basket . When there was no pair in sight we were forced to wear what my Mom called clown socks. They didn't have to match. Often I would get the chore of what we called "mating" socks. This would generally consist of dumping all the socks on the livingroom floor and dividing them up into piles of like colors, "mating" as many as possble then putting the "unmated" socks back in the basket. As far as I knew every household did this.

In my early adulthood, for reasons I can't recall, the sock basket came up in a conversation and it soon became clear that not everyone grew up 'mating" socks. They looked at me as if I'd participated in some depraved sock reproductive ritual. For a moment I felt ashamed, but from what I could remember there was absolutely no reproducing going on, more of a slow methodical elopement perhaps. Our socks were quite enlightened. Color, texture and gender blind. I secretly vowed at that moment that I would never have a sock basket of my own. Twenty some years later I know of only three rogue socks in my laundry system and if thier "mates" (perhaps it's a British term) don't appear soon they're done for. My Mother can never know this, however, it would become apparent that I didn't inherit all of her legendary thrift and resourcefulness. My parents generation never called it recycleing. I vaguely remeber them using a saying that went something like this; use it up, wear it out, make it do or go without.

Congratulations on Your Future Insanity

2008-07-05T11:51:00.000-07:00

My dearest sister and sometime commenter on this blog, imme, has taken a big step in her life - one that she has been dreaming of and working toward for many years now. Although she has reached many goals in her life, marriage, college degree, CPA status, motherhood three times over, high powered career, having an island in her kitchen (a goal that has still eluded me) - this one has remained out of her reach until now.

I don't see what the big deal is. It doesn't take any special training or requirements. All it takes is mindless, repetitive work worthy of a factory assembly line, putting your brain in sleep mode, risking humilation every time you go in public, and enduring an emotional roller coaster ranging in extremes of joy, frustration, tenderness, hope, and utter boredom.

Yes, my sister has finally become a stay at home mom!

In my 9 year career as a SAHM I've had many intriguing experiences, including the number of phrases that have left my mouth that I never thought I would have to say. Like, "Why is there a dead bird in a jar on the counter?" or "We are NOT going to wait and see what those small, squirming things in the water will grow into."

I also have a growing list of seemingly benign items that have become off limits to my children due to their "creative" use including thread, paint, food coloring, avocados, super glue, nails, flour, and VHS tapes.

But for all my moaning and complaining of brain atrophy and lack of a stimulating environment, I remain in my current occupation, not for lack of opportunities to escape to the realm of working motherhood that I've seen many of my friends successfully navigate. Why?

I relish having my own, personalized insanity. I jealously guard it. I would never want someone else having the unique, challenging and hair raising experience of keeping my children happy and safe and providing opportunities for them to learn and develop (hopefully) into the adults I would like them to be. I would love to have more income, adults to talk to, and a chance to develop my skills and interests. But this insanity, my own personal insanity, only comes once in a lifetime. And I wouldn't trade it for anything.

"5 Things.." Bandwagon - Whee!

2008-06-28T03:17:00.000-07:00

I'm going to do it. I'm going to sell my soul and jump on the blogger band wagon and post a "Things you didn't know about me" post. Next thing you know, we'll be having a give away....

I'm not sure what the point is here besides sating people's hunger for having dirt on another human being. Does this make people feel empowered? comforted? horrified? In any case, for those that would like to see the skeletons in my closet. Here they are.

5 Things Most People (except Ambie, of course) Don't Know About Me

5. I'm Blind. Without my contacts I can't even see the "E" at the top of the eye chart. I can barely tell that there is an eye chart. For those of you that are familiar with strengths of contact lenses, I wear a whopping -7.00 power set of contacts. I don't own a pair of glasses because the lenses would be so thick and heavy they would fall off my face.

4. I hate most books read in book clubs. Okay, so you might have noticed that I have some strong opinions, but I usually try to find positive things to say at book clubs so I don't become like the SNL skit character "Debbie Downer". Nevertheless, here is a short list of some of the books that I can't stand: "The Secret Life of Bees", "The Number One Ladies Detective Agency", "Eat Cake", anything written by Nicholas Sparks, any "heartwarming" stories involving pets, do you see a pattern here? What do I like? Non-fiction, literary classics, and anything written with clever wit or beautiful, descriptive prose. Rare at most book clubs.

3. I'm a conservationist. I hate wasting/throwing away ANYTHING! I save boxes, containers, ziploc baggies, holey socks and jeans, anything! I used my dryer exactly twice last month - I hang all my laundry on the line. I make my children bathe together to save water. Food has to be slimey or fuzzy before I will throw it away, and even then it hurts. I hate buying stuff, especially for my kitchen or to decorate. But don't worry, Ambie, I still support drilling in ANWR.

2. I trade foreign currencies online. You know how currencies of different countries change with respect to each other? That's what I capitalize on by moving my money from one currency to another. It's risky and I've suffered some losses, but I have been able to fund my children's private school tuition, and, well, I get a thrill from it. I just wish I lived closer to either East coast or London time zones.

1. I wake up PISSED OFF! All my life, the part I can remember anyway, I have hated waking up. I can't explain it. I don't know if it has to do with the fact that I can fall asleep on a dime, or that I'm a vivid dreamer or maybe I just love my sleep. But this has been kind of a challenge for me, and those that have to deal with me, all my life. This doesn't mean that I sleep a lot or sleep late (relatively), you just may want to be armed if you have to see me first thing.

Wife Irate After Lawnmower Impounded

2008-06-26T15:20:00.000-07:00

NORTH POLE Alaska -- Alaska State Troopers were led on a low speed chase of up to 5 mph spanning several lawns and which ultimately ended in the apprehension of a North Pole man intoxicated more than 2x the legal limit.

The man refused to pull over when signaled to do so by the police officer forcing the officer to call in for additional backup to avoid further escalation of the situation which may have resulted in injuries. Twenty-year-old Wyatt Lewis is charged with driving under the influence and failure to stop at the direction of a peace officer.

The situation finally concluded when one of the officers got out of his vehicle and told Mr. Lewis to stop.

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the end

The Cruelest Cut

2008-06-25T20:05:00.000-07:00

Gentlemen, you may want to cross your legs...really.

So anyone who has been privileged to be expecting a baby boy (sorry, Ambie, not you)has faced the decision of whether or not to circumcise your future man. If you've ever attended a child birth class during this discussion, this is the only time it may come to blows. Some say they wanted their sons to be "like father, like son", others say it is an outdated and totally unnecessary, cosmetic, and cruel practice based on meaningless, religious tradition.

I've had to face this decision twice and it's basically come down to this - better now than later. There are certain conditions that arise in a man's life that make circumcision necessary. Much better to do it when they haven't yet developed a paranoid devotion to their nether regions, so day two might be too late.

When we had our second son join the Jewish ranks, I made my husband follow along and watch. I'm not sure why. To make sure the doctor didn't cut too much? With a morbid sense of "you did this to him, watch the consequences"? In any case, I find that I have a lot of clout in making my husband do stuff right after child birth, so he went.

The doctor performing the circumcision insisted on having a hospital nurse present during the procedure. The nurse seemed a little annoyed thinking he should probably be able to handle it solo. So he explained that too often, when fathers attended the circumcisions of their sons, he would all of a sudden have two patients instead of one. So the nurse, with a smile on her face and with smelling salts and defibrillator handy, oversaw the proceedings.

My husband said it honestly wasn't that bad. And he is your typical, paranoid, cup-wearing male.

So while the cut may be cruel, it's best done before the baby can walk or talk or most importantly, remember what happened. Oh, and another thing, you might want to at some point explain this all to your young boy. My sister dated a guy who honestly didn't know if he was circumcised or not. Thankfully, he got it all straightened out and she didn't have to determine this for him.

Death of a Sears, Man

2008-06-23T10:29:00.000-07:00

"Sears" has been struggling for a number of years with the emergence of discount giants like Walmart and Costco. It enjoyed a brief lift on its appeal to women with its "come see the softer side of Sears" campaign, but in the end, savvy housewives realized that the "soft side" was still the "ugly and of medium quality and price" side.

Now Sears, in its final business death throes, is making one last desperate plea, not to women this time, but young people. Sears is teaming up with MTV, LL Cool J, and the makers of the movie "Highschool Musical" to make a movie of their own called "The American Mall" where the young actors and actresses will be completely outfitted in Sears' new and more hip fashion line.

Um, good luck with that. Sears happens to be choosing the most fickle, unpredictable, and irrational demographic there is.

Last summer I went shopping at the mall with my 16-year-old niece and I could find absolutely no rational logic in her choices. As far as I could tell, she choose jeans based on two factors: how expensive they were (the more the better) and how worn out they looked (again, the more the better). She stood there considering a pair that cost $80, riddled with holes and worn out spots and seriously considered buying them!

I casually asked, "don't you want a pair that doesn't look like someone spent the last 5 years motorcross biking in them?"

She looked at me with a mixture of pity and exasperation and said, "that's not the point."

She chose shirts with a similar value system - the flimsier and more likely to sprout holes, the better - but I could find no rhyme or reason to what she liked on the shirt. Some characters looked like they came straight out of a 3-year-old's coloring book with cartoon bunnies and monkeys, but when I suggested one with a cute cat on it she gave me a horrified look and said, "duh-uh-uh-mb!"

If I were in charge of saving Sears from its slow and tortured death, judging from my mall capers with my teen niece, I would say, make cheap, holey clothes, put it on nearly naked manequins complete with "bulges", fumigate the store with an incredibly stinky, "signature" fragrance, and charge insanely excessive prices, and maybe they have a chance. A perky teen movie with hip but wholesome characters will sell them with the 9 to 12 year-old crowd, but unfortunately, they have very little money to spend.

Anybody Missing a Foot?

2008-06-19T15:32:00.001-07:00

A fifth human foot was recently found washed up on the shores of Canada and Canadian as well as American officials are encouraging citizens to take inventory of their own feet as well as their children's. Obviously some may not be physically able to see their own feet in which case one should consult a friend or neighbor to take a look for them.

Entrepreneurial Offspring

2008-06-18T00:50:00.000-07:00

It seems like as soon as kids find out that money can be used to purchase gum, they are always on the prowl looking for ways to find, earn, or steal it. I don't mind providing ways for my children to earn money, then leave the discretionary spending at the store up to them. I even offer them a penny per page of extracurricular reading they do and "The Invention of Hugo Cabret" and the "Fablehaven" and "Magic Tree House" series have cleaned me out.

Twice my son has had a lemonade stand, but seeing as how we live on a cul-de-sac that's a little off the beaten path, he netted about $1.50 each time. He even wrote up a business plan for this endeavor that went something like this:

1. sighn (advertising) very good. color
2. making the lemonade ~~pay mom to~~ borow ingreedionts.
3. get table and chair
4. find a good space to sell

I think I just got cheated out of my fair share.

All this is well and good - until my daughter struck upon a scheme that required even less work. I was stunned to find this sign up in my house.

underneath which I found this set up

It's one thing to have a future beverage retailer in the family, quite another to have a future pan-handler. I asked my daughter what the baby needed saving from. She shrugged, "I don't know. Anything that needs money, I guess."

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Lazy American Kids

2008-06-16T14:21:00.000-07:00

So you think you've got it bad? Look, I'm sorry you had to walk 3/4 of a mile home from school with a backpack and it was cloudy.That must have been tough. I suppose you will need a couple of days to recover from that harrowing ordeal.Suck it up and be happy you're not living in China where kids have to cross raging death rivers on a skinny cord to get to school.

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How I Know She's the Last

2008-06-11T02:01:00.000-07:00

I guess I've never learned to say "when", but it's always been a mystery to me how people know when their family is complete. I've heard friends say that they had always planned to have a certain number of children. Or some say they really wanted to try one more time for a certain gender. Others say they knew when they were "maxed out" and had taken on all they could. I've never felt sure in any of these ways...until now. (The hysterical weeping for joy you hear in the background is my husband.)

Here's why.

My last child is a daughter I call "the trial of my Faith". She has a strength of will like Joan of Arc, the emotional volitility of an 8.2 level earthquake, the sense of entitlement of a communist dictator, and the energy and volume of a pack of hyenas all trapped in a two-year-old body. The world that she resides in is a little different from the one you or I would recognize.

For one thing, she thinks that clothes are something you wear only when you leave the house and that sleeping and jumping on the trampoline requires the removal of every stitch including underwear/diaper. And speaking of which, she insists on wearing panties even though she has no interest in using the toilet. She even managed to shed a diaper I had duct taped on her. Needless to say, I am grateful for my carpet steamer.

She thinks that the purpose of a fan, the household type that are used everywhere in Hawaii, is to yell into it at the top of your lungs. She thinks that any and all pairs of shoes that she thinks are pretty are hers. She wrestled her 7 year-old sister to the ground to get at a new pair of pink flip-flops she was wearing. And she thinks any and all bodies of water from mud puddles to beaches with 12 foot pounding waves are for jumping head first into in the deepest part.

A shopping cart for her is just a jumping off point - a means to reach things she otherwise could not. And she escapes with a skill worthy of Houdini from all belts and buckles no matter how tightly they are strapped. Tooth paste, Desitin and Kraft Singles are mediums for art spread on the walls, the counters, and herself. And baby wipes are for frolicking in.

So I think I finally figured out how to call it quits - when mothers of teenagers look at your toddler and say, "Good luck when she's 13!" Although I will not actually declare myself "done" because I know as soon as I do, I'll get pregnant. Just ask Ambie, she knows what that's like.

Offended ? I'm sorry .. or maybe I'm not.... I'm not quite sure

2008-06-09T01:19:00.000-07:00

Our family was shocked and surprised to discover that my grandmother was asked to teach a class at church and even worse a class on government. At first we thought that maybe our bishop was trying to play some kind of practical joke on our family as everyone knows that my grandmother is extremely opinionated when it comes to politics. You can find her at almost any time of the day listening to talk radio, watering her plants, over feeding her cat, and all the while muttering about some scumbag screwing up our country.

A little history ... my grandmothers father was a politician who unsuccessfully ran for mayor back in Alaska's early statehood. He took it so hard that he spent the remainder of his days on earth muttering about all the jerks screwing up our country...and hunting. Grandma's mother was the president of the (fill in the blank if you wish) women's party of Alaska. She enjoyed gardening, going to the symphony, and discussing subjects like which idiots were screwing up our country.

In grandma's world there is no such thing as political correctness or mercy for the other side. She is quoted as once saying that John Denver deserved his plane crash for getting involved in Alaska' politics.

So there we were watching, waiting, sweating. Grandma began by discussing with the class the difference between types of government i.e., monarchy vs. democracy. We just knew at any moment she would start spouting off about those damn ( fill in the blank if you wish). Surprisingly enough she made it through the hour by the skin of her teeth. We could tell at times she was visibly trying to restrain herself and she almost lost it when a woman who recently immigrated from Chile professed her love and loyalty to her former country. (Grandma can't imagine why or how anyone could feel loyalty to any other lesser nation).

So obviously I grew up listening to grandma spout off about all kinds of politically related things. She once woke me up at the crack of dawn when I was about 12, to teach me to iron and explain the difference between a democrat and a republican and why the world would be better off if those (fill it in) would all fall into the ocean.

So obviously I feel some measure of sympathy towards anyone exposed to demanding old people who want to talk politics and somewhat torn between avoiding the subject like the black plague and being supportive of my country. Any thoughts?

Faux Sushi

2008-06-05T01:09:00.000-07:00

Okay, if I start turning this blog into a "Kute Krafts 4 Kidz" blog, Ambie might leave me. Truth be told, I have no idea where my glue gun is and I haven't toll painted anything since the mid-nineties (thank heaven). On a sadder note, my sewing machine has sat idle for more than a year.

That being said, I love making cute kid food. Ambie remembers staying up really late helping me make PB and J sandwiches in the shape of rudolph the red nose reindeer for Nathaniel's preschool class. For Halloween 2 years ago I made mini-pizzas with olive slice eyes with green pepper pupils and mozzerella string bandages. Too fun.

So here's my latest endeavor: Sushi

You start with a grape or green apple, natural fruit roll up. Then make a batch of rice crispy treats. Spread the rice crispies over the fruit roll up, then line up one and a half gummy worms across the middle.

Use a sushi roller to roll the fruit roll at the same time you peel off the plastic (just like you would a California roll). Then slice.

Long's Drugs in Hawaii has the most extraordinary selection of plastic, deli containers in all shapes and sizes and this fills me with inexplicable joy. So I found the perfect container to fit six little sushis. I made 29 sets for Nathaniel's class for his birthday.

It took almost 3 hours. I'm ill. Help me.
Itadakimasu!

The Little Luxuries

2008-05-31T17:14:00.000-07:00

I am the fifth of seven children and although my dad is an educated professional, while I was growing up, money was a rare commodity. My mother was a tightwad extraordinaire and my dad, to this day, is a conservationist of such extremes, members of Green Peace would tell him to lighten up. So even though I live with my four kids at a more comfortable level than I did growing up, there are certain things that will always seem like indulgent luxuries to me no matter how fabulously rich I get, (unlikely as that may be).

Caution: List Ahead!

Wonder Bread: My mom subscribed to the "the whiter the bread, the sooner you're dead" philosophy of sandwich making and she bought the long, skinny store brand loaves by the half dozen which she would throw in the freezer. So our sandwiches would consist of misshapen, half frozen/half soggy slices of bread with a single leaf of lettuce and a single slice of Buddig meat so thin you could read your book through it. Now, I feel like a naughty child sneaking cookies whenever I buy Wonder Bread and eat it fresh, never frozen, with peanut butter and jelly spread all the way to the edges!

Full-Sized Candy Bars: I think I was in highschool before I ever ate a full-sized candy bar by myself. These were such rare treats when I was growing up, if anyone in the family ever got one, that person was expected to put it in the freezer, then when it was sufficiently hard, we would slice it and dole out the frozen shards all around. Even now, eating candy bars in an unfrozen state seems like an incredibly indulgent and selfish thing to do.

New Underwear: Not only am I the fifth child, but I'm also the fourth girl with a sister only 17 months older than me. Needless to say, my entire wardrobe consisted of hand-me-downs including personal wear. I remember when I was eleven and I finally earned some babysitting money, I jumped on my bike and rode to the nearest Ross Dress For Less and bought myself a package of brand new underwear. Some things are just not meant to be shared.

French Fries: Eating at McDonald's was a momentus event in my childhood reserved only for celebrating achievements just shy of winning a Pulizter. Even on road trips my mom would pack fried hot dogs and sliced omlets wrapped in aluminum foil so we wouldn't have to buy food along the way. And when, on these momentus occasions, we did go to McDonald's, all we ate were those flat burgers the size of coasters, no drinks, no fries. It baffles me that my children do not like fries. I think I'm spoiling them terribly just for offering them.

Buying things not on sale: My mom was a price comparing, sale shopping, coupon clipping expert. She knew which stores had which items for the cheapest, then she would wait for it to go on sale, then pull out her categorized accordion file box of saved coupons before making a purchase. At clothing stores it was even worse. It had to be on the clearance rack that was at least 50% off. Now, I can't buy things that are not on sale without looking over my shoulder and making sure my mom isn't looking (even though she lives a half an ocean away). I feel that if she were in a grave, she'd be rolling in it.

Summer Boredom

2008-05-29T11:57:00.000-07:00

Aren't you happy that school is out? Now that it's summer vacation I just want to make a few things clear. Whether you like it or not we are not spending our summer vacation sitting around watching t.v., playing the wii and wasting precious sunshine. there will be no fighting or attitude given. We have approximately 77 days of (semi) warm and sunshine. Every night you should be collapsing into bed after a day spent of outdoor exercise, running through the sprinkler, and extreme gardening. Your going to be productive if it kills me.

Your summer reading list will grow and grow as you lay on your blanket in the yard and soak up every second of sunlight. You will expand your mind by reading all the classics and the complete American history literary canon. If you are unsure what to read ask me and I will recommend something for you. You had better take this seriously, I don't want to look back on this summer and shake my head at all the wasted time. No laughing or giggling unless the situation calls for it i.e. you are watching Shakespeare at the park. You will look back and remember this summer as one of the most productive periods in your life; the summer you got a six pack (abs not beer) or the summer you developed a love for classic literature, or the summer you climbed the most mountains, or harvested the most fruits and vegetables and canned them.

I would suggest you make yourself a schedule in 30 minute increments and stick to it as if your life depended on it. The only time you should be sitting at the computer is when you are entering data pertaining to your summer productivity which afterwards at the conclusion of the summer you will be presenting to me in the form of a complex pie graph. The only time you should be watching the television is on days when it is snowing or hailing or there is a tornado or tsunami warning.. wait scratch that last one we live far enough from the coast .. get outside now.

Your get to see your friends all year at school, your friends this summer will be your books, each other, and me. Your not going to run off and play like a bunch of stray dogs. There will be order here. I'm not going to let this summer get shot to hell with a bunch of nonsense. Now get busy.

Millennials

2008-05-27T10:51:00.000-07:00

Remember the hype, the warnings, the fear over the impending disaster that would be caused by the date changing to 2000? Everything from elevators to cars to heart pace-makers were supposedly going to rise up and start taking over the world like a bad remake of "I Robot". The world waited with bated breath as the the clock ticked with relentless evenness toward the end of the universe as we knew it. 11:58, 11:59...12:00!

nothing.

nothing at all.

So life went on with nary a bump and our alarm clocks and refrigerators remained docile and subservient as ever. Well, the Y2K disaster did happen, it just happened a decade late, or a decade early depending on how you look at it. You remember the designation of Generation X followed by Generation Y and we assumed that the next would most likely be Generation Z? Well, this alphabetically rebellious Generation has been designated as, The Millennials. cue scary music.

Millennials have been designated as those who are currently in their 20s, and those of us, like my dear friend Ambie, who have a Millennial for a child or sibling (or both, in her case) know that this really is a disaster of epic proportions. JWT, a New York based advertising agency, has provided us with a profile of the newest members of the workforce, and the results are, well, predictable to those who are intimately acquainted with the joyful frustration of trying to guide intelligent, energetic young people away from mistakes of such incredible stupidness that you're wondering if all the intelligence they have exihibited thus far might have been a fluke. Like a monkey randomly typing at a computer and producing the complete works of Shakespeare.

As JWT reports, Millennials, compared with previous generations, "place a higher value on work-life balance, expect their employers to adapt to them and are more likely to rank fun and stimulation as one of their top five ideal job requirements." They also, "like lots of positive strokes, are chronic multi-taskers and can be outspoken to a fault. They know when to speak up; they just don't always know when to shut up."

Sound familiar? It does when you consider the kind of life Millenials have had. Their formative years were mainly the 90's when the economy was flying high with the dotcom boom. They've always had technology at their fingertips. They've never known a time without personal computers, cellphones, or satellite TV. They think that "hard times" are when you don't have unlimited texting on your phone. These young people were raised with the "everybody wins" philosophy where everyone had a seat in musical chairs and everyone got a trophy in little league. They feel absolutely wonderful and confident for no reason at all.

To be fair, they do have some strengths that their older counterparts struggle with at times. Millennials think "outside the box" to the extent that they're almost unaware that there ever was a box. They are creative thinkers and high risk takers. They don't mind bringing their work home allowing clients and co-workers to call them at any time. But while they may usher in the next era of great human advancement, it will be a harrowing ride for those of us that have to grit our teeth and smile and say, "Sure! That idea for starting a reptile eco-tour in Brazil sounds great! Here's the $3000 from your college fund you wanted."

Can you Spare Some Change Brother ?

2008-05-23T21:19:00.001-07:00

Lately I have noticed how the Alaskan homeless are harder and harder to identify as homeless. Thank goodness they hold those homemade signs they make on cardboard that say " homeless please help" because I never would be able to tell otherwise. Why? well lets see maybe it's the two hundred dollar North Face jackets they are wearing or the Cabelas hiking boots and the Carhart coveralls they have on. They hold their coffee and stand on the corners together in a group. They are laughing and smiling; their teeth look straight.When traffic stops the expressions change to seriousness as they gaze intently into the faces of those who will not look back. Occasionally a kindhearted middle aged woman in a beater will give some change or a couple of bucks.

At 5pm a shift change seems to occur on the corner and the the morning crew takes leave sometimes climbing on a bus, sometimes climbing into a car. Life is good. I study the scene on the way home from school almost daily. My kids are whining for a McDonald's soft cone. I don't have a dollar, not one dollar. I never do. My paychecks go directly into the bank account and noon duty's don't get tips. The Alaskan homeless do pretty good, they look healthy and happy. Ten or so years ago there was a homeless guy named Floyd. Floyd waved and smiled .. and held his sign, but Floyd went commercial and pretty soon the local newspaper claimed that Floyd had hired a manager. Chubby little Floyd was sporting a new Rolex and his new sign said "direct deposit accepted".Other creative signs seen include "looking for rich woman to support me" and "not available for work" and "no food accepted".

I suppose there is something exhilarating about having no possessions to maintain, no people to be responsible for, and to live for the day alone. It must be nice to get free meals,housing and to be able to spend all of your money on whatever you want. Hey Floyd, can you spare a dollar ?

Gone are the Days of Goliath

2008-05-21T19:29:00.001-07:00

There was a time when men strove and fought for the favor of a lady. They won the hearts of said ladies by exhibiting their prowess in providing shelter, hunting food and vanquishing evil foes. They were strong and swift, gallant and noble. Oh, how times change. Since food and shelter are now obtained by earning enough money to pay someone else to get it for you, the scrawny and sickly are equally able to provide these as the buff. This has allowed men to explore the softer side of their talents, hence, we have "American Idol".

Far from the biblical face off of David and Goliath, we have instead the clash of the Davids and I doubt either one has heaved a stone or any other projectile at anyone, although I suppose that would make "Idol" much more interesting. No, to win the hearts of their adoring, training bra-clad fans, they show that they have soul and sensitivity and "a voice like melted chocolate". With these Davids, the Philistines would definitely have prevailed.

Recall the dilemma faced by Penelope of "The Odyssey" when she faced a house full of suitors. She challenged them to string a giant bow and shoot an arrow through 12 axe handles lined up. The one that could do it would be her husband. Imagine instead if she'd gathered the village and had a sing off and let her neighbors vote on the winner. Homer would've died in shame and misery instead of all of us, centuries later, having to write highschool papers about his works.

Then there was Jacob in the Bible who showed his future father-in-law that he was dedicated and hard working by laboring 14 years before marrying his beloved. I doubt Laban, or Rachel for that matter, would have been very impressed if he had said, "Nah, but listen to how I can sing!" Then where would that have left the house of Israel?

But do not fret that the epic battles of today do not involve muscular, grunting, and sweating men. At least these modern heros are less likely to be interested in marrying your daughters.

Acromania

2008-05-18T11:06:00.001-07:00

My own dear mother reminded me of a game Ambie and I used to play that we really enojoyed and having all you readers just widens the possibilities. *wicked chuckle* For those of you that don't read all the comments (for shame) here is a recap. You take a person's initials and you come up with an acronym that describes him or her. (For those of you that slept through fifth grade English, an acronym is a group of letters that each stand for a word, like SCUBA - self-contained underwater breathing apparatus)

The ones I came up with for Ambie are All-Estrogen Parent (she's having her seventh girl), and Anything Except Punctual, and An Erupting Pie-hole.

We shall attempt to acronyse all our faithful commenters, and try not to offend you so that you never come back. There are some of you whose middle initials we don't know so if you don't see yourself on the list, drop us a comment and we shall by all means add you.

So here we go:

imme: you are Enlightened Woman Employee, or Elated When Earning, or Eager With Expectations

mama mia (you have really tough initials, BTW): you are Mormon Jello Bride, or May Journey Beachward, or Monthly Joyous Bookclubber

Tim: you are Tortured Money Winner, or Tells Many Witticisms, or Too Many Worries

Kristine (your middle name is Michelle, right?): Knowledgeable Math Nerd, or Kind to Mexican Neophytes

Heather: you are Heartfelt Dale Hater (as in Earnhardt Jr), or Healthy Diet Hater, or House-Deal Hell

grandma faith: you are Full of Motherly Wisdom, or Fair-Minded Woman, or Forgetful, May Wander

Aimee: you are Ankles R Sprained or Aldi's Really Stupid

Jillee: you are Just Sawed-off Boobs, or Just So Blonde

The Noon Duty

2008-05-17T01:07:00.000-07:00

I am a noon duty. Why? because the office ladies asked me to do it and I feel guilty saying no to anything that helps support the kids school. Oh and because the office ladies are so nice and soft spoken and pleasant. If they asked me to rob a bank I might consider that too.

I love to see my kids during the school day and they feel so famous when I am there. The other kids say things like " hey is that your mom "? and they just beam with pride. I try to act cool so that the kids won't say things like " your mom is so mean"! I walk around the lunch room and try to keep the kids from having food fights or eating each other. Sometimes I tease the kids which is great fun... for me. I might tease the kids about their haircuts or bed head. There are so many funny looking kids. If you don't bother to brush your kids hair in the morning, at least you are providing people like me with a good laugh. I appreciate that.

Other things I have observed are:
A kid trying to saw another kids head off with a fake saw for sawing snow
A kid stuffing snow down another kids coat and shirt
Kids throwing away entire lunches including whole sandwiches and whole bags of chips unopened ( I bet you think your kid would never do that)
whole rows of 5th and 6th grade girls who think eating anything is gross and nerdy
A kid trying to make another kid eat gravel
A kid trying to make another kid eat yellow snow
Kids playing catch with a dead bird they found
First graders drinking coke for lunch
6th graders eating baby food out of a jar
girls that cry ( this is everyday and every grade) because their best friend said they weren't friends anymore
Kids that raise their hands at lunch to tell me that someone won't stop looking at them
Kids that raise their hands at lunch to tell me that their mom just had a doctors appointment because they need medication for depression

I do try to encourage the kids to take their whole sandwich home so that someone else can eat it but the expression that they give me says that they will throw it away later.

Al Versus The Volcano

2008-05-17T00:07:00.000-07:00

When you move to a new place you can't help but learn a lot of new things about it from its history, flora and fauna to its lingo and dialect. One of those things you learn is new weather terms. When I lived in Alaska I learned the terms "break up" and "termination dust". (and no, it has nothing to do with ill-fated romantic relationships or magical powders for getting rid of lazy employees.) In Nebraska I learned about "supercells" and "downbursts" to the extent that you don't want to be present when they occur. Well, Hawaii is no exception. I am currently getting intimately acquainted with a nasty little phenomenon called VOG - volcanic fog. I know, it sounds like a stinky perfume and so it is.

As I write, Kilauea is belching forth volumes of ash laden clouds that settle over the islands when the trade winds die down, making paradise look more like downtown LA. The air chokes you, visibility is miniscule, eyes water, noses itch, allergies and asthma flare. My question is: Where is Al Gore when you need him??

C'mon Al! Take on that air polluting, environment destroying, plant killing, baby seal slaughtering, carbon emitting volcano! (It probably drives an SUV - perhaps the LAV4?)

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It was a cold day in Anchorage....

2008-05-14T13:04:00.000-07:00

Yes, folks, believe it or not, exactly 31 years ago today, my dear friend, Ambie graced the world with her presence. (And the world is still trying to recover.) We have been friends for almost 5 years now and we've had some serious doozies for memories. I've learned that whenever Ambie calls and says, "I have something to tell you..." it's best just to hang up and try to forget that I ever knew her. But, slow learner that I am, I have yet to do that. So here, my dear friend, is a list (I love lists, can you tell?) of some of my favorite memories with you:

The time we took our kids to Nordstrom and Maya pulled all the tags off the dolls and I pretended she was your daughter. (My kids look more like Ambie and her kids look more like me)

The time we ran down the fat guy with a cart at Costco and almost gave him a heart attack.

The year we made 17 pies for Thanksgiving, sewed 3 formals for Christmas and 5 sun-dresses for Easter. (and when I say "we sewed" I mean "I sewed")

The time we went camping at the Kenai river - and I swore never to camp with you again.

The year we went to Girls' Camp and it took both Heather and me to get you off the ground on the air mattress, then we discussed the movie "Shallow Hal". (I'm still laughing about that, sorry.)

That wedding that I ditched - and you didn't. yeah, that one.

Two words: Road Show (AHHHHHHH!!!!!!)

But more than any specific memory - is all the time we spent together shopping at midnight at Walmart and Fred Meyer, the cooking your husband did for us and taught me, and the haircuts, all the times we were so immature and ornery at church that people hated us, having your teenagers invade my house every Sunday to play with my kids and cook and eat, the hours and hours we spent talking in a running car in our driveways, people-watching at the State Fair and playing "guess their income", I could go on and on.

So enjoy your birthday, friend. Because even though I think Jessica is prettier and Alex is a better cook and Natalie is nicer and your mom does more service for others - you are the one I would choose for a best friend everyday and twice on Sunday.

Nerds Unite!

2008-05-13T12:54:00.000-07:00

Remember that kid in Junior High? The skinny one with glasses who always had a sci-fi paperback in front of his face. The one everyone picked to have on their science lab team but no one picked for their kickball team. Then when you all got to highschool, he never really learned how to shave his Adam's apple and all the girls he asked to the prom said no, even the 300 pound, cross-eyed one. Well, he's got a new hobby. Politics. AP reporter Seth Borenstein reports that the new craze amongst hard-core scientists is to run for office. Apparently the pale people are sick of the popular people using them to get good grades just like in high school and now they want to take over the decision making. It's like a low-budget remake of "Revenge of the Nerds" - a horror film.

I'm not sure people will be earger to elect a 5 ft 3 in, 115 lb guy who can't get through a speech without his inhaler but Congress could definitely use a lift in the average IQ of its members (the overwhelming majority of whom are lawyers). This is what I predict will happen if more and more scientists are elected to public office:

Our currency will be changed to read, "In Newton We Trust".

You will hear a lot more accusations on CSPAN of someone being a "dark lord of the Sith".

Foreign policy strategy will be determined by a big game of "Risk".

Convicted criminals won't go to prison, but become "volunteers" to the new Department of Advanced Scientific and Medical Research.

The term filibuster will be changed to PI.

Capitol hill will be referred to as F(x)=-x^2. (think back to Algebra 2. think! think!)

Votes in Congress would now be able to be coerced by wedgies and swirlies.

The Speaker of the House will be referred to as "The Dungeon Master".

Congress will be endorsed by Pearle Vision and Acuvue.

There will be an official government declaration that SuperMan could so totally kick the Green Lantern's butt.

So if we are indeed going to have an "Extreme Make-Over Politics Edition", we'll have to get back into flatter-the-nerds-so-we-can-copy-off-their-papers mode and get ready for a lot of Star Trek analogies on CNN. At least, for these newly elected officials, there's no government equivalent to the senior prom.

Sorry Ma !

2008-05-10T22:00:00.001-07:00

Tomorrow is mothers day and I want to take this chance to publicly apologize for all of the rotten things I did to my mom growing up. Although this may diminish in your minds the idea that I am nearly perfect, it simply must be done.

Mom, I'm sorry for all the times I cut my hair, and Jessica's... at the scalp. I'm sorry we ( I am not taking all of the blame for this) used all of your perfume and cleaning products and medicine and ice cream to make potions. I'm sorry for the time we tried to give the cat a bath and it didn't work out and you found her a week later with matted soap on her and you had to put her to sleep.. and that we cried and thought you were a mean mom.

I'm sorry that we played catch with the bunny rabbit that belonged to the school library and that it was dead by the next morning and that we just thought it was cold and so we put it by the heater until it started to stink. I'm sorry that I broke juice glasses on purpose because I liked the shattering noise they made.. on the garage floor .. and wall... and under your tires. I am sorry for giving Jessica wedgies and pulling Jillee's pants down and running and also for putting Jillee in the closet and locking it .. so many times. I'm sorry we climbed the tree and pried open your window to search for candy. I am also sorry for throwing that big party when you went to Mexico but at least my friends and I left it cleaner than it was.
Love, Ambie
there is no

2008-05-10T00:27:00.000-07:00

Congratulations, you gave birth without drugs. WIMP!

It's inevitable. When a woman is narrating her childbirth story the issue will arise. Did she or did she not have an epidural? Often, those that opted out of the pain-free version declare this with self-importance - that somehow they did it "better" than the person who "gave in" and got the drugs.

Personally, I've done it both ways and I'm here to tell the world that getting an epidural is worse than natural childbirth. Seriously.

When I was pregnant for the first time, knowing that I have a low tolerance for pain, I decided from the start that I would get an epidural. When the time came and I was sufficiently dilated, I was excited for the magic that would take the labor pains away. That's when the anesthesiologist snuck behind my back and pulled out a needle the size of a fencer's foil but about twice as thick. I was already preoccupied with contractions that were 90 seconds apart, so this just seemed like adding injury to injury. She thrust home the sword-like needle with the skill of a triumphant jouster. Now I know how bugs feel when they get pinned to a display board.

When I was pregnant with my second child, my strategy was to ask for an epidural when the labor pain got worse than the pain of getting an epidural. You know what? It never happened. I've chickened out of an epidural every time after that. So I salute all you mothers who had the courage to stare, unflinchingly, down the length of the needle of horror and said, "yes". "Yes, for the sake of my husband's hand and all those within earshot of my screams, I will take the epidural." You are truly amazing.

Captain DumberPants Goes to School

2008-05-07T19:10:00.000-07:00

"Me fail English? That's unpossible!"

Leave it to the geniuses at the Maryland Department of Education to find new and creative ways to keep students stupid by calling it smart. First it was "Everyday Math" where you never actually learned anything about numbers or how to manipulate them (but you did learn about other countries and cultures), then it was "Disaster Spelling" where students misspelling is not corrected as long as it is phonetic. Now, from the supporters of "ebonics", comes the latest educational fad for TAL - Teachers Against Learning - comic books. No, sad to say, I'm not kidding. I wish I were.

More than 1000 classrooms around the country are now using comic books as a part of their curriculum. Using the likes of Garfield, Donald Duck, and Mickey Mouse, this curriculum is hoping to increase reading and writing skills by spiking students' interest. Hoping students will read better by putting more pictures and less words on a page is like planting a rock and hoping a tree grows. Teachers say they love the comics because they get the kids excited for reading lessons - preferring enthusiasm at the expense of substance. I could get my children really excited about dinner if I served ice cream but it doesn't mean it's good for them, just easier for me.

Hopefully it goes without saying that books that use pictures as the main tool for plot and characterization and only use written words for dialogue and minimal setting will fall far short of written narrative in reading development. Pictures rob students of the skill to interpret language into complex ideas. Pictures also limit the beauty of descriptive language in matters of emotion and intent. When you read about an event, the words can transport you like you are "right there" experiencing it. Pictures always put the viewer in the audience.

This comic book curriculum is just a part of a larger educational deficiency that occurs when teachers and administrators "dumb down" the work to fit the students instead of pushing the students to achieve higher standards. Michael Bitz, one of the founders of the comic book program, said it best, "There is a growing movement in education that's looking at literacy of all kinds." All kinds? really. Like, illiteracy, or poor literacy. The last time I checked there were no pictures on the SAT.

Fix Me

2008-05-07T13:48:00.000-07:00

More and more people are getting "fixed" and I don't mean having their reproductive organs removed, but rather altering their appearances via surgery and sadly more and more of these people are teens.

When we think back on our teenage years, even those of us who felt popular and good looking can relate to feeling self conscious about one or more aspect of our physical appearance. For me the seventh grade was rough. I was chunky, had zits every where,and as icing on the cake, greasy hair in an outdated style. Miraculously, at the beginning of the eighth things changed. My hair had grown during the summer and I was taller and had shed some of my chubbiness by spending a lot of time on the trampoline during the summer. I started wearing makeup and on picture day I wore a pink pirate silky shirt and fluffed my bangs as high as I could get them to go. All day that day I basked in the compliments like a sea elephant in the sun. I was so totally hot.

I recently pulled this picture out to show my teens who burst out laughing.... I was so totally offended. But I suppose they had good reason for their explosion of laughter.The hair was ... Halloween-ish, the makeup, too black, the shirt .. grandma's closet, and the expression.. Barney. Still I looked younger and thinner and my mind enjoyed the trip back in time to when my boobs didn't look like old fruit waiting impatiently to fall off the tree.

Well guess what teens? Now you don't ever have to look back and cringe at old high school photo's. Just make an appointment and get a cute little button nose with tiny nostrils, your ankles liposuctioned, forehead implants, and your toes lengthened for optimal toe cleavage, hey you can even spite your mother by getting your belly button removed( the newest trend in Beverly Hills).

I believe that the humility we learn as we experience teenage awkwardness is imperative to becoming better adults that are more able to handle life's disappointments and maybe even have a good chuckle at our own expense occasionally.

Apsiring to be Average

2008-05-04T20:21:00.000-07:00

Meet a parent - any parent - and they have dreams for their children. It may be dreams of world-class athleticism, Ivy League academics, or Julliard bound dancing or music. Parents spend countless hours and money by the truckloads for lessons, practices, private teachers, equipment, and camps to help their children reach their (not sure if it's the kids' or the parents') dreams. My question is, have you ever met anyone who has reached the pinnacle of performance in the area of your child's dreams? If you have, you must ask yourself - is this really what you want your child to be like? My answer is a resounding and heartfelt - "HELL NO!"

For every gold medal athlete or prima ballerina, there are a thousand parents that have their priorities WAY screwed up. Take for example the gold-medalist in a 2002snow-boarding event that thanked his father for calling in sick to work so he could take him to the slopes to practice. In the same Olympics there was a figure skater whose siblings refused to attend any of her events. Apparently they were sick of all the sacrifices the whole family had to make so she could compete. Then there are the brothers in Bethesda, MD, the older of which took 17 AP tests getting 5's on 16 of them, but his little brother was removed from the house by Child Protective Services because of the pressure put on them by their mother.

Reaching the top levels of performance in any field requires a natural ability, hard-work and dedication, an extreme focus to the exculsion of all else, and an overwhleming amount of self-centeredness. Of these, the only attributes I want my children to have is hard work and dedication, but not focused solely on themselves. I want them to work hard to help others and be dedicated to the well-being of the entire family and the community. When you think about which of your children's friends you enjoy most, is it the one with the extreme talent in one area, or is it the one who is helpful, polite, and kind to everyone?

I once overheard my mother reply, when asked how her seven children all turned out so well, that it was because they were all so average. I was indignant that she would think of our academic scholarships and college level athletics and dance to be "average". But as I see parents today run themselves into the ground as they mold and sculpt their future superstar children who, more often then not, end up self-important and spoiled, or burnt-out and resentful, I hope more and more, like my mother, that my children end up being happy, balanced, self-aware, helpful, thoughtful, and dare I say, average.

Alaska: Land of the insane

2008-05-01T23:24:00.000-07:00

Ah.. spring is in the air. tulips are blooming, birds are singing, the sun is shining, and you are probably putting your kids shorts on and trying to button your own from last year. yesterday I woke up and looked out my window as I do every morning to check the melting progress and was not very shocked to see 2 feet of freshly fallen snow !!! It is May 1st. We put on our boots and went to school and work ( in Alaska NOTHING is canceled due to snow ... ever). It was a grim day. Kids cried. We adults sighed in our bathroom mirrors at the pale, bloated faces with gaunt eyes, staring back at us. If you ever bumped into a traveling Alaskan in the winter you know what I'm talking about, and you can probably spot us in a crowd. We are the the night of the living dead basically... with like 30 extra pounds of insulation.

Alaska is an interesting place with an interesting climate. If you have never experienced a full year in Alaska here's the low down.

Spring: What month is spring? Here it is May ... 30.... ish. People become insane, toppling over each other in a mad rush to buy plants and quickly plant gardens before the two week planting time frame expires. If you fail, your growth season will be too short and your carrots that you harvest in September will be the size of fingernails.

Summer: June and July maybe... if your lucky. The insanity continues as spirits soar and people try to make the best of the short window of warmth. The sum stays out until around 2 am at which time lawnmowers can be heard as well as children playing out in the streets.Every one is so happy and pleasant,with their unrested smiles pasted on and their forced laughter. Have you ever seen Stepford wives? Like that.

Fall: In every way. You would think someone had died. It is the saddest thing when summer ends and we feel it deeply. have you ever seen the scene in Mary Poppins when Mary Poppins and the children have to leave Uncle Albert's floating tea party ? Like that.Fall begins anytime between August first and August 31st. The leaves fall and then the snow follows promptly.. like the next day.

Winter: We almost always have snow by Halloween ( which is a joke) "cute costume sweetie! are you a skier"?. The season begins sometime in October and continues on until mid May ( happy Easter !)Sunlight becomes sparse and in December you can expect sunrise at 11 and sunset at 3 pm. In other words, if you blink you could miss it. Moods begin to dive and all over Alaska, pharmacies experience shortages of Prozak. People become desperate for anything to make them feel like they did in the summer( I choose food)and by February people start snapping like frozen twigs.

We Alaskans have great pride in our state and many here would rather die than leave. I myself am a fourth generation Alaskan and am bound by some unseen force to this strange and hostile place... that and my grandmother repeatedly tells me that all people who move down to the lower 48 die soon after. So the question is do I want to die warm?