When Mommy Was A Kid...Toys I Loved

Doesn't every little girl go through the horse stage? My friend Katy was way into the horse adventure world. She might even still have her collection.

My Dad got me this and I loved it. It was huge.

Kids still like these. Ethan and McKenna have their own versions.

Dr. Zera from Planet of the Apes. I was obsessed with all of the Planet of the Apes movies. I was pretty sure I could become Dr. Zera.

Fortune Telling Magic Eight Ball

Klackers? Huh? For some reason, getting two plastic balls to bang against each other was big fun.

Chrisie...her hair "grew" by pulling it and then you could magically crank her mane back into her head.And we thought this was fun because?????

It seemed cool at the time.

I LOVED my Mickey Mouse transistor radio!

Every single girl I knew had one of these.

Mine looked exactly like this. Third degree burns on your finger tips were a rite of passage for a girl growing up in the 1970s. Light bulb heat source. Who thought of that?

Malibu suntan Barbie

and her camper

Boring is underrated.

Ethan told me last night that he felt sorry for me because I "had to grow up with such crummy toys". He may have a point. But I thought they were pretty great at the time.

Public School Politics

Yet another reason why Catholic/private education is a priority in our family.

An Oak Lawn, Illinois school district is dispensing with traditional holiday names in favor of politically correct or "more inclusive" euphemisms.

This article was forwarded to me via you-know-who.

Oak Lawn Schools Cancel Holiday Traditions

(CBS) OAK LAWN, Ill. A southwest suburban school district has taken action, responding to the concerns of a Muslim parent.

But now, as CBS 2's Suzanne Le Mignot reports, other parents are angry that traditional school holidays will be renamed or even eliminated.

"That does not represent all the Muslims, all of the Arabs at that school," said Qais Nofel, the father of a student in Ridgeland School District 122.

There was some heated discussion between parents outside Columbus Manor Elementary School in Oak Lawn on Friday. The thought of no more traditional holiday celebrations has many parents really upset.

For now, children in Ridgeland School District 122 will celebrate fall festival instead of Halloween and winter festival instead of Christmas.

Brenda Elvidge said, "It's not fair to our kids. This is America and that's an American tradition."

The decision affects the children at four elementary schools in Oak Lawn and one junior high school in Bridgeview.

The district has a 30 percent Arab-American population, many of whom practice Islam. The superintendent says the reason for the change in tradition comes after one parent wanted Ramadan decorations put up inside Columbus Manor Elementary. They were taken down.

Superintendent Tom Smyth said, "I go back to our policy which says that public schools are to remain neutral in this respect."

Ridgeland School District 122 has called for an emergency meeting on the issue, to be held on Tuesday.

Meantime, Muslim children are being allowed to pray during what's being called their own time, that's lunch time, during Ramadan.

Parent June Quigley said, "They get to pray in our schools. That is religion in a public school."

Muslim parents have different views on the issue.

Sala Abour said, "To take away Halloween and Christmas from little kids, that is very wrong."

Nofel said, "We go and we celebrate the holidays and traditions here, but we do have the right to be Muslims as well."

Other parents say the controversy is overshadowing what really needs to be addressed at all five schools in the district.

Ronnie Carroll said, "The fact that they are cash strapped. Our classroom size is way above the average mean, 38 children in our first grade classroom. The concern should be our school, not the whole holiday issues."

Those issues along with the holiday controversy are going to be addressed at a school board meeting on Tuesday. Members will decide if holidays will be celebrated or not.

Meantime, the Illinois PTA district director says the state is now investigating this issue and there's a meeting with the superintendent next week.

(© MMVII, CBS Broadcasting Inc. All Rights Reserved.)

Running With Scissors by Augusten Burroughs

The movie is barely tolerable but the book is perfection.

From 1966 until maybe 1980 or so, Augusten and I lived in a parallel universe. While reading the book, I can't tell you how many times I said, "This is my life". Sometimes I said it aloud.

His ability to put a giggly spin on the most outrageous events and interactions is simply brilliant.

And healing. And life affirming.

The Sociopath Becomes Mainstream

This Mommy is really dismayed by the popularity of a cable-TV drama called Dexter.

I'm not surprised by the success of the show. Dexter has all of the elements that one would expect from a cable-TV drama. It's non-formulaic, the characters are well developed, the dialog is highly crafted and subtext oozes from every nook and cranny. Throw in some irony and a wee bit of biting humor. Top it off with some superb acting from the likes of Michael C. Hall (Six Feet Under) and you've got the makings of a winner.

Here's the snag. The subject matter is patently offensive. The glib portrayal of a serial killer is just not entertaining. Or at least it shouldn't be. Have we become so numb to violence and mayhem that we find the life and times of a serial killer to be the fodder for entertainment?

I don't blame the creators of the show. This is their artistic endeavor and they have every right to peddle it to the highest bidder. So be it. My concern is with what appears to be our never ending thirst for subject matter which glorifies horror, despair, and abject misery. In the case of Dexter, we are treated to an almost whimsical, snickering look-see into the life of a mass murderer. He's a bad, bad boy who's been hurting people. Bad Dexter. Bad serial killer. He's crafty--that one! Tune in next week for more of his mass murdering hi-jinx!

And yeah, I know. He only kills bad guys. So we shouldn't feel shock when he impales or dismembers his latest victim. They deserved it. They had it coming. Some might say that we need more like him.

My God...I hope not. Many years ago, I was indelibly struck by Hannah Arendt's seminal work Eichmann in Jerusalem. Her core assertion is that evil is cloaked in the routine, lurking in the familiar, emanating from that which is accustomed. Building in small, insidious ways until it culminates into a menacing destroyer...after countless, seemingly benign influences erode our natural sensitivity. Hitler's wrath began as a viable political strategy and good common sense to millions of beleaguered Germans. Not bad people by and large. And yet they share in the culpability.

We Americans are war torn in other, less visible ways. We encounter a never ending barrage of violence, indiscriminate sexuality, immorality in every form--all streaming from a host of media outlets. Yet we're somehow used to it. We're desensitized to suffering in a million small ways.

Our empathy is unwittingly chipped away as we grab our popcorn bowl and settle down for a quiet evening of Dexter. The banality of evil indeed.

Jena 6...Heartbreaking

Without addressing the particulars of the case (of which I only have a sketchy understanding), I am saddened by a some key, ancillary issues.

(1) It seems we have not made much progress in narrowing the divide between the way Blacks and Whites perceive the world. We are all Americans and that should count for something--especially in a time of war. But race is a powerful filter no matter how hard we try to ignore or marginalize it.

(2) While I am impressed at the great numbers of people who have made their way South in order to protest perceived injustice in Jena, Louisiana, I am tremendously unimpressed by the most recognized mouth pieces leading the charge. Both Sharpton and Jackson are completely disingenuous and self-serving. They often quote Dr. King and ostensibly try to emulate him. Clearly, they don't even come close. Their motivations often appear tainted and their judgment is questionable. Sharpton has not once, but twice defended liars and shakedown artists. He has impugned the reputations of innocent people and has engaged in extortion, brandishing the much feared title of "racist" as a weapon against anyone who dares to disagree with him. And Jackson...well... anyone who lives in the Chicago area is familiar with the dubious nature of his leadership status. Some twenty years ago (ouch) at Berkeley, I recall Dr. Harry Edwards commenting that he knew Rev. Jackson personally and even considered him a friend but was nonetheless suspect of Rev. Jackson's true motivations. I can't quote Dr. Edwards exactly but it was something to the effect of Rev. Jackson having to always be "up in every one's business"--whether he was requested to do so or not. I don't think Sharpton or Jackson could ever support a Rosa Parks to lead a movement. In doing so, too much attention would be deflected from themselves. If in fact a great injustice was carried out in Jena, the cause to remediate any wrongdoing is only hampered by the involvement of these two posers.

(3) The racial tensions in Jena lead me back to a question I have asked for years: Why do so many Whites insist that racism never exists and many African-Americans believe that it always exists, in nearly every situation?

I guess it just comes down to living in the other guy's shoes--if only for a day. I think both "sides" would see that there really, truly is middle ground.

And I think we all could use a little more middle ground these days. Because let's face it...Al Quaida is not at all interested in our racial differences. Their desire to kill us is equal opportunity.

Happy Birthday Daddy!

We can't wait to see you !!!!!

Raising A Renaissance Baby (?)

One of my online mommy magazines opened with this little jewel:

Expose your sweetie to music of all varieties, art of diverse genres, literature and languages, natural landscapes and locales in abundance. Add a heaping portion of pop culture and you'll be nurturing a socially savvy child.

Oh brother.

When I was pregnant with Ethan and knew noting about actually raising children, I was full of lofty plans and expectations. Classical music would be piped throughout our home at all times to stimulate musical ability. Commercial television would be an absolute no-no. I viewed a future filled with trips to museums, leisurely strolls through botanical gardens, lunches with equally savvy mommies at top-notch restaurants. Not a single chicken nugget was going to pass my child's lips. And it went without saying that he would be multi-lingual by the age of two.

Right.

The fact of the matter is that all of the above mentioned accoutrement is...well...simply that. This mommy surely isn't mocking classical music. It's lovely. We like it. But was I thinking about that when Ethan was screaming with colic 12 hours a day?And I'll tell you this--when I was hanging by a thread after 3-4 hours sleep a night, I was doing well to get a shower squeezed into my day. My big trip out was to the Jewel for more formula. Elevated cuisine consisted of Portillo's and when we really got all gussied-up, we may have made it out to Outback Steakhouse.

Ahhhh, but Leigh, surely the baby becomes a child and then you can cultivate 5-star palates and artistic sensibilities?? Yes, the child grows. In the words of Love You Forever, he grows and he grows, and he grows. And yes, you can greatly influence your child's tastes and preferences. I would be remiss if I didn't expose him to the beauty of nature, the splendor of art, the wonder of books, the bountiful variety of healthful, wholesome foods. But it's also important to remember that an entire industry is booming--based on the flawed notion that you can engineer a super-child. Buy our vocabulary builder and your little guy will be a gifted orator at age 4. Subscribe to our magazine and your child will have a great appreciation for nature. Renew your membership to the local Gymboree and he'll be setting the stage for a future at the 2018 Olympiad!.

Sorry friends. It just ain't so.

You can influence, persuade , extol, recite, expose, and impart your mommy patootie off. Some of it will sink in. A lot of it will not. Case in point. I'm a reader. I loved books and everything about them my entire life. The texture, the print, the smell. I own hundreds. I lived for the library as a child. At any given time, I usually have at least one novel and a couple of works of non-fiction sitting on my nightstand. My days start and end with the written word. I have read to Ethan nearly every day of his life. You would think that he just loves the library, right?

Negative. He heads straight for the videos and then for the computers to play games. And yes, I impose the obligatory edict: Ethan, you must choose three books before you do anything else in this library. He capitulates, saunters to the stacks, chooses three books with little or no interest, and then scrambles back to the video section with visible relief. The good news is that Ethan is already past grade level in his reading ability and comprehension. But does he relish the experience? Does he love reading for reading's sake? Not on your life.

Surely my love of books has had some impact on him. But I can't discount the observation that much of him is hard wired. You know--organic. I doubt his reading skills will ever fail him. But he's not a budding Hemingway either. And that is just fine. As Oracle says, "I'm not going crazy over it". You do your best, provide a wide variety of opportunities and give your child the time to discover his own interests and talents. But you can't build a super-kid with a set of blueprints. Our little people are far more complicated than that.

And much more interesting.



(As far as my children's exposure to pop culture...that topic deserves a post all of its own. More later.)

The Ivy League Is Not The Goal

If they make it there--super. But what are the most worthy aspirations? I know this mommy needs some perspective on occasion.

Lord, be with us and all our children.

Give them the courage to be different,
to be themselves,
to be faithful to all whom they know,
to all that they believe.

Give them patience and wisdom to
know all that You ask of them.

Let their hands be used in service to others,
their feet to hasten to the needs of the poor,
their eyes to see the beauty of our world,
their ears to hear with compassion
the call of the poor,
their hearts to love and to bless
all whom are and will become
part of their lives.

And, finally, give us the courage to let them grow,
grow away from us,
as they grow in wisdom, grace, and age
before God and man, under your care.

(Sent home by Ethan's Kindergarten teacher. Not sure if she composed this.)

Northern Exposure

I was just thinking tonight about how much I miss it. I have most of the series on my DVR and every once in a while, I'll sit back and watch. I've seen every episode so I know what misadventures befall poor, put upon Dr. Joel. But every time I watch I glean something new, something I hadn't noticed a bazillion times before.

There is just nothing like it. A few series over the years have rivaled its creativity but have failed to capture its quirkiness. The chemistry between the actors/characters is palpable and the writing is just pure brilliance.For the most part, there is no single scene that can be described as defining or seminal. It's the sum of the parts that makes Northern Exposure such a masterpiece. And its that performance synergy that allows it to stand the test of time.

And I still feel sad that Joel and Maggie were simply not meant to be. Countless episodes of build-up and their union was just not written in the stars. Or in their case--the Aurora Borealis.

Chris Stevens the town DJ/clergyman/philosopher (John Corbett) had his own thoughts on the matter:

Rain usually makes me feel mellow: curl up in a corner time, slow down, smell the furniture. Today... it just makes me feel wet. What is it about owning things? Why do we feel the need to own what we love, and why do we become such jerks when we do? We've all been there, you know: we want something; we own it; and by owning it we change it. When you finally win that girl of your dreams, the first thing you do is try to change her. That little thing she does with her hair, the way she wears her clothes, the way she chews her gum. Until eventually, what you like, what you don't like and what you change all merges into one. Like a watercolor in the rain.

So true Chris. So true indeed.

Grandpa Pick-Me-Up

Truth In Advertising...

(Click on image for large view)

Courageous Prayer...via Oracle

From this point on, Oracle has made the request to stay behind the curtain, so to speak. We must honor all requests from the wise one! I, for one, thinks she fully deserves a blog of her own but that's gonna take some arm twisting.

When Minister Joe Wright was asked to open the new session of the Kansas Senate, everyone was expecting the usual generalities, but this is what they heard:

"Heavenly Father, We come before you today to ask your forgiveness and to seek your direction and guidance. We know Your Word says, "Woe to those who call evil good" but that is exactly what we have done. We have lost our spiritual equilibrium and reversed our values.

We have exploited the poor and called it the lottery.
We have rewarded laziness and called it welfare.
We have killed our unborn and called it choice.
We have shot abortionists and called it justifiable.
We have neglected to discipline our children and called it building self esteem.
We have abused power and called it politics.
We have coveted our neighbor's possessions and called it ambition.
We have polluted the air with profanity and pornography and called it freedom of speech and expression.
We have ridiculed the time honored values of our forefathers and called it enlightenment.
Search us, Oh God, and know our hearts today;
Cleanse us from every sin and set us free.
Amen!"

12 Years Young

Our marriage. The best, hardest, most lovely, trying, and fulfilling endeavor. You're a loyal friend, a caring partner, loving father, and steadfast provider. Thank you for your tireless effort to ensure your family's comfort and security.

When you stepped off that plane at SFO way back in '93, I knew that you were my husband-to-be. Since that time, we have realized amazing dreams. Something tells me that there are more to come.

I love you Jim. Still do. Always will.

Happy Anniversary.

Harmless, Mindless 80s Fun

Anyone who knows anything about this mommy knows that I just loves me some English Beat. Still do. Of course I was completely taken by the lead singer back in the day (Sting, Ed Harris, Ralph Fiennes, Matthew McConaughey, Jim Eckroth...all fall into the category of "mommy's type"). And I just found their "I Confess" video. Note the absence of any reference to a bitch, ho, trick, bootie, or gangsta. Imagine that.

Fred 08?

It's not completely out of the realm of possibility. I've been luke warm on the presidential election so far but Fred Thompson stokes my political embers. I love the fact that he speaks in the vernacular despite his command of the king's English. To date, I haven't heard double talk or verbiage two-step. He is extremely clear about his position on key issues. I don't agree with him on every last talking point. But I'm right in his corner when it comes to protecting the rights of the weak and vulnerable. I admire his vision of federalism as set forth by the framers. He will not support burdensome taxation. And he takes a no nonsense stance on the issue of border control and protection. Here’s what the New York Daily News editorial page is saying about Fred
Thompson…

“Thompson is absolutely pro-life, period, no waffling about it.”

“He is solidly pro-Second Amendment, period, no dithering.”

“He’s a gung-ho war on terror man, a no-nonsense border security man.”

And let's face it. In the face of terrorism and continued aggression we need a president with gravitas. Giuliani has it but he loses me when it comes to abortion. So, I'm not ready to put Fred's sign on the lawn but so far I'm leaning in his general direction. Stay tuned.

Music Mom Loves

Can I just say that I just love Amy Winehouse? A twentysomething English girl with a voice of a 50-year old Black woman. Some say her style is an affectation, much like Alanis Morissette's yodel voice that curiously disappeared after her first album. I don't know. I'm not a music critic. Even if it's a put on, it's a really good one.

She's wrapped up in the tragic-blues-singer-hooked-on-drugs-and-the-wrong-men thing right now. And the beehive and the eyeliner are silly gimmicks that she does not need. I guess it's all about standing out and having a distinctive image. Whatever. I just hope she gets it together 'cause she is really, really good. Where did a little girl like her get all that soul?

Kindergarten: Ethan's First Day

The day came with a mixture of anticipation and dread. It really is time for him to be in school every day. He's five-and-a-half and has been in some type of pre-school program since he was two. Still, this is different somehow. My baby boy isn't a baby anymore. A mom feels that pang when she knows that her child is in the beginning stages of pulling away. Doing his own thing. Not simply being an extension of Mommy and Daddy. This is the goal apparently. Sigh. When he blissfully waved to me from the window of the school bus, I felt the lump in my throat, swallowed hard and held the tears at bay. Off he goes. Off he goes.

Feel Better Grandpa Dave!

Click on the above to see the full page version.

My Dad's getting through it. He's going to be just fine but the treatment is arduous and has a few very unpleasant side effects. The good news is that this won't be forever...he's just got to tough it out for awhile...We're praying for his improved comfort and some badly needed pain relief! In the meantime, Ethan and McKenna are trying to find ways to make him smile.

We love you Dad, Grandpa, and Father-In-Law!

Diana

Jim and I were in Las Vegas. This was long before the kids were in the picture. Just escaping from work and enjoying some time with Jim's family. I found out from Paul Eckroth that Princess Diana had been seriously injured in a car accident. By the time we got back to the hotel, the TV anchorman said that she had died.

Died? I was stunned. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I no longer cared about the trip or Las Vegas. I just wanted to sit in front of the TV and hear that the whole thing was a mistake and that she had been revived. Admittedly, I was somewhat surprised and even a little embarrassed that I was this devastated over a public figure, a celebrity. Someone whom I clearly never hoped to meet or know. And yet, in this age of multi-media, countless tell-alls, and hyper publicity, I grew up with her.

When I was fifteen, I stayed up all night with my mother and watched her marry the Prince. It's just one of those memories that will stay with me always. Everything about the wedding was magical. The dress, the pageantry, and all the rest of it. Of course none of us had any idea that the marriage itself was miserable for both of them, almost from the very start. No. At fifteen, I, like the rest of the world, caught the Diana bug. I was strangely proud of the fact that we shared the same birthday. On the day she married the Prince of Wales, in front of literally the world, she was a mere five years older than I. Astounding really.

Diana was beautiful in that full featured, English kind of way. She was everything I thought a woman should be. Tasteful, elegant, stylish, modest, self-effacing, vulnerable, and kind. Who couldn't smile when she flubbed up her own husband's name during the ceremony? In those days, no one could fault her. Her innocent missteps just added to the charm.




Over the years, we found out more than we wanted to know about Diana's faults and weaknesses. There has been so much written about her that it's really hard to know what is true and what isn't. But one thing seems very clear from her own words and actions. She married someone who did not love her, she was lonely in a way that is almost impossible for any of us to understand, and that she tried to cope in ways that I don't admire but I with which I sympathize. And she was a great mother. She loved her children. My goodness did that show. We saw her joyously bear hugging the boys after a lengthy separation. Laughing hysterically with them while getting soaked on a theme park water ride. Imploring the press to give her and the boys a break so that they could ski in peace and enjoy a family holiday. As a mother, I understand wanting the best for your kids and just doing everything you can for them--in good times and in bad.




It's been ten years since she died and she still fascinates me. I'm particular about what I read where she's concerned. I like my untainted Diana memories thank-you-very-much. If I hear a criticism, I just turn a deaf ear. And just when I thought I knew every arcane piece of of Diana trivia known to man, I heard a new one just the other day. Her favorite movie was The English Patient.

Could her legacy be any more secure?



Due in part to her inspiration, a fifteen year old girl, awkward and insecure, began to realize that beauty includes all kinds of internal and external qualities. And while at 41, the confidence meter isn't always as high as it should be, I think back to "shy Di" who blossomed into a maverick, an icon beloved not only for her beauty but also for her kind, generous spirit. And that gentle, loving nature inspires me still.

God bless and keep her this day and always.

August Wrath

I told you so. The month of August in the Chicago area is just the worst. And this one is wrapping up to be no exception. After three and a half days with no power, we've finally got the AC cranked and the lights are on. Never mind that our neighborhood looks like a war zone. Forget that the mosquitoes are fat and happy. No one is injured, no one's home is irreparably damaged. We're safe.

On Thursday at about 3 in the afternoon, Ethan and I were playing a Webkinz game on the computer. McKenna was napping in her room upstairs. Jim was in New York working. He wasn't expected back until Friday night. It was a typical summer day--muggy, slightly overcast, about 90 degrees. The usual. So, I was amazed when we looked out the patio french doors and saw a scene straight from The Wizard of Oz. The sky was black and trees were literally sideways. It looked like a monsoon descended upon us in the span of one minute. The wind was howling as loud as I have ever heard it. I firmly told Ethan to back away from the windows.

Thankfully, Ethan had the presence of mind to say that we better go get McKenna. (What a little trooper.) We ran up the stairs, plucked her out of bed and ran back down the stairs to the basement. The three of us snuggled up on the couch and listened as the house shook, trees crashed, and thunder boomed. McKenna just kept her face buried in my chest. Ethan was being super brave. He didn't cry but his eyes were as big as saucers. We talked about SpongeBob and Patrick and how they would handle the situation.

As soon as it came it was gone. A tendril of light emerged in the window well. Time to go upstairs and see what was what. Truly, I thought it was just a freak thunder storm. Pretty typical stuff in these parts for this time of year. But when we stepped out of the mud room door into the side yard, all three of just said, "Whoa".

Trees and power lines were down everywhere. A huge chunk of an Oak tree outside McKenna's room broke off and missed her sleeping area by about three feet. Fire and police sirens sounded everywhere. Neighbors came out of their houses and we all just sort of stared at the mess and then at each other. What happened?

Catherine and her father Bob and brother (Eric) drove up and asked if they could park one of their cars in our driveway since theirs was completely buried under debris. Bob told us that he had been outside when "the thing" hit. A wall of water just came barreling down the street. He said he had never seen anything like it and that it has the scariest thing her had ever seen in his life. I'm told that we may have gotten as much as eight inches of rain from this storm alone. WILD!

Many of our neighbors' basements flooded. Cars stalled in three feet of water just down the street. One of our neighbors lost a trampoline.
It ended up in another yard two houses down.
We got off relatively scott free. Amen.

OK enough details. Some say it was a microburst. Others said it was a class one tornado. I called it a gustnado even though I'm told that it doesn't meet the technical specs for that particular act-of-God (I just like the word gustnado.) Who knows what it was? Scary, loud, menacing, and sudden. There you have it.

I'm officially done with August even though there are a few days left in this wretched month. Fall never looked so good.

Sexualization of Our Children

Have you been shopping for your little girl lately?

It is scary. Even for toddlers, much of the clothing is tight, short, glittery and cropped. Suggestive graphics are everywhere. I'm appalled that any mom would knowingly let her child wear anything with the word "juicy" on it. Apparently, there must be quite a few moms who do because the manufacturer seems to be thriving. And how about the rest of it? Make-up, nail polish, heeled sandals, temporary tattoos, "ghetto gold" jewelry. It goes on and on. Think back for a moment to little Jon Benet Ramsey. Even her father admitted that her mother liked to dress the little girl up like a "little woman".

Laura Ingraham calls it the pornification of our culture. Did we all fall asleep over the last thirty years and allow the fringe to become mainstream? Porn stars and porn peddlers, once relegated to the shadows, are now full blown celebrities. Hugh Hefner has a popular reality series. Cosmopolitan magazine was once considered racy. Now, it has a spin-off entitled "Cosmo Girl" with piece (no pun intended) titles such as "How to Get That Guy" and "Are You Sexy Enough?". It never ends.

The hardcore left, the if-it-feels-good-do-it- generation, the so-called women's movement--they have all had a hand in this porn culture. Somewhere along the line women were told that true liberation is synonymous with unfettered, sexual freedom. As such, have sex whenever, however, and as much as you like. Just protect yourself against pregnancy and STDs. Otherwise, darling, the world is your sexual oyster. Have at it. At least that's what Helen Gurley Brown would have you believe.

Do boundaries even exist any more? Unmarried, sexual encounters are now casually referred to as "hook-ups". We've been told since the Clinton era that oral sex isn't really sex. And yet we wring our hands with angst when we hear of thirteen year old girls performing "non-sex sex acts" on boys in bathrooms. As a culture we seem shocked and dumbfounded by the fix that we're in with our over-sexed children. And yet when you really think about it, how we landed here should not be such a mystery.

The last scene in Little Miss Sunshine really hits home. Shy, 8-year old Olive sexes up her pageant routine to the point of absurdity. We're initially offended by her awkward gyrations to Rick James' "Super Freak"...until one realizes, of course, that the outlandish immorality of it all really is the point. And from Grandpa's point-of-view, if you're gonna go out there and do it, then do it! Why hide behind the sham of pageant charm and talent? Go out there and sell yourself like the rest of kiddie meat on display. But at least be honest about what you're doing. It's an uncomfortable thing to watch. But I got the point.

In the public schools, students and teachers are forbidden to talk about God. Yet, when I see what some children (and I mean young children) wear to school each day, I'm aghast. We send our girls to learn, to build their minds, to teach them that they are worthy and deserving of an education. Meanwhile, that message is seriously eroded by the provocative and demeaning way our girls are allowed to present themselves. Even at Mass, pre-adolescent girls teeter on high heels while exposing every available piece of skin that they can possibly get away with. Shame on MTV, shame on Paris Hilton, and shame on any and all of us who allow our kids to have access to any of this stuff. In the end, first and foremost, we parents own it. Period.

And it's not easy. Trying to shield Ethan from the lure of Zach and Cody is a daily challenge. I would have never allowed him to watch that show but it started last year when he was in the hospital. There was a limited TV repertoire and the kid was going bonkers. So, I caved and gave him the OK to watch The Suite Life of Zach and Cody. It was on the Disney Chanel. How bad could it be? The fact is that it's tame compared to a lot of other stuff on cable and network TV. But it is still not appropriate. The amount of thinly veiled sexual references is really rather surprising. And these boys just are not the role models Ethan should be aspiring to. Remember, this programming is on the Disney Channel.

Some might tell me that I need to relax. Maybe I do need a few deep breathing exercises now and again but that doesn't mean I'm off base on this one. The problem is so many of us have lost perspective on what is truly profane. I was beyond shocked a few years ago while watching the sitcom Scrubs. After a vigorous sexual encounter, one of the female doctors dramatically and breathlessly declared that she needed a vagina transplant. This was on prime-time, network TV! Last time I checked, that was dialog for a rated-R movie. Shrek 2, ostensibly for kids, made reference to Pinnochio in a thong. Walt Disney is rolling in his grave.

Suffice it to say, we parents are challenged. We simply cannot defer to the culture's definition of what is acceptable, what is decent. More importantly, if we want our daughters to grow up with true self esteem and with clear regard for their gifts as people, not as objects, then we have to say enough is enough. Sure, I want my daughter to enjoy her femininity. But that can be done in so many graceful, elegant ways that have nothing to do with vulgar clothing or actions. In the meantime, my little girl will dress like a little girl. I think that's a good place to start.

Ethan Loves to Sing

...the only problem is...I'm the only one who knows it. When he thinks he is not being watched, he just loves to belt 'em out. I can't tell you if he's in tune or not. All I know is that it's the cutest thing ever. I've heard a lot of Harry Belafonte's "Day-O" over the last couple of weeks. He's even got McKenna doing that one.

Today I heard him singing a refrain I couldn't quite name although I recognized the melody. And then I realized he was singing a few lines from the Plain White Ts' Hey There Delilah. What a beautiful, lovely song. So refreshing and so unlike all of the misogynistic hate mongering out there. The guy who wrote this song clearly likes women. I mean really appreciates them. So, it warmed my heart to hear Ethan's cute, little-boy rendition of this endearing song.

"Hey There Delilah"

Hey there Delilah
What's it like in New York City?
I'm a thousand miles away
But girl tonight you look so pretty
Yes you do
Times Square can't shine as bright as you
I swear it's true

Hey there Delilah
Don't you worry about the distance
I'm right there if you get lonely
Give this song another listen
Close your eyes
Listen to my voice it's my disguise
I'm by your side

Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
What you do to me

Hey there Delilah
I know times are getting hard
But just believe me girl
Someday I'll pay the bills with this guitar
We'll have it good
We'll have the life we knew we would
My word is good

Hey there Delilah
I've got so much left to say
If every simple song I wrote to you
Would take your breath away
I'd write it all
Even more in love with me you'd fall
We'd have it all

Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me

A thousand miles seems pretty far
But they've got planes and trains and cars
I'd walk to you if I had no other way
Our friends would all make fun of us
and we'll just laugh along because we know
That none of them have felt this way
Delilah I can promise you
That by the time we get through
The world will never ever be the same
And you're to blame

Hey there Delilah
You be good and don't you miss me
Two more years and you'll be done with school
And I'll be making history like I do
You'll know it's all because of you
We can do whatever we want to
Hey there Delilah here's to you
This ones for you

Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
What you do to me.

Also a Land of Beauty, Honor, and Pride

Ethiopia often conjures images of poverty, hunger, and desperation in the extreme. Such conditions surely exist. But I am learning that it is also an intensely beautiful country, rich in history, culture, and pride. When I visit Derebe, I want to go with an open mind and have some basic knowledge of not only the country's struggles but also of it's achievements. I pray for humility and the ability to appreciate a way of life that will certainly be nothing like my own. I also pray that I can provide comfort and support while avoiding condescension or presumption.

The River Nile



Nekemte, Ethiopia - Derebe's Home


Precious

Their God, Our God

Cassandra Floyd...Post Script

In a previous entry, I wrote of my lingering sadness about the murder of a high school and college classmate, Cassandra Floyd, M.D. As mentioned, we were not close but our social circles crossed paths numerous times. Let's just say when we saw each other we were friendly. Still, I always envied Cassandra's confidence and her laid back approach to success. She just did it. No freak outs, no drama.

It's ironic the way we conjure up images and fantasies about people we admire. The reality is that she had her share of struggles and turmoil just like everyone else. It's safe to say that at the end of her life, Cassandra had more than her fair share of heartache. How she coped with that and still managed to care for a daughter and treat patients is mind boggling.

Her death is a tragedy that still deeply touches people. Recently, this article was posted in a Kaiser Permanente press release:

Kaiser Permanente Santa Clara
Memorial Rose Garden Ceremony and Reception
Tuesday, May 8 2007 at 6 pm

The Cassandra Floyd, MD Memorial Rose Garden has been successfully transplanted from the KP Kiely campus (which is scheduled to close soon) to its permanent home at the new Homestead campus in Santa Clara. The garden was replanted at what will be the main entrance to the new hospital. The roses for the garden, called "Mother's Rose ", were picked by Maureen Leach, a now-retired nurse manager of KP Santa Clara's Obstetrics and Gynecology Department. Maureen was instrumental in the developing the health care response for KP members at KP Santa Clara who experience domestic violence.

The rose garden honors the life of Dr. Floyd, who was a graduate of the KP Santa Clara residency program. Dr. Floyd was the killed by her former husband in 2001. Her family continues to raise awareness about domestic violence in hope that others will seek help before it is too late.

The Department of Obstetrics and Gynecology and the Floyd family will hold a rededication ceremony and reception on Tues May 8 at 6 PM - just in time for the first bloom. On exhibit will be the silentWitness display, a large multi-panel display of stories of courage, hope and survival of KP employees and clinicians who dealt with domestic violence. The display is dedicated to Dr. Floyd and two other KP employees who were killed by their intimate partners.

A fitting tribute indeed.

Ethiopia...I'm Going....

Just got my confirmation from Compassion that I am traveling to Ethiopia next March for twelve days. I'll get to meet and spend time with Derebe! She lives in the hillside community of Nekemte, about 150 miles West of Addis Ababa.



I'm excited and a little scared. I have been all over the U.S. and to many countries around the world (mostly Europe) but this will be my first trip to Africa. The only part of the trip that makes me truly nervous is making a connecting flight in Darfur, Sudan. One of the most volatile, desperate places in the world. But I'm assured that we will be completely safe. So I'll just tuck that worry away for now. Jim is very supportive and wants me to make this journey. He knows it's important to me and he knows that I would never go if I thought for a moment I was putting myself in harm's way. My children need me too much for that!

I'll be praying that I am worthy of this opportunity.

Blessings truly abound.

Beauty Disaster

Whatever you do....do not ever, EVER use Olay Definity eye gel pods. I'm not a big grocery-store-beauty-product woman. I'm a little snobby in that regard. The only "low-end" item I use is Nivea. And that's because Nivea works and it's fragrance reminds me of Katy and dear Jutta. Other than that it's high-end cleaning and moisturizing products. My skin is just soooo sensitive and the cheap stuff usually gives me a reaction. In this regard, you definitely get what you pay for.

I digress. The morning after I applied this stuff on my immediate eye area--I woke up with my eyes so swollen I could barely see out of them. My eyes were red and dripping with ooze. This was certainly not the look I was going for. I wore sun glasses the whole day yesterday.

My Aunt said her dermatologist neighbor recommended Vitamin C serum--which you can buy at Whole Foods. I'll give that a try. After the puffiness goes down, it's back to good stuff.

41 is just a swell age. Taken directly from Fried Green Tomatoes: Too young to be old and too old to be young.

Kid Conversation

Mommy: Ethan, the cleaning lady is coming tomorrow and this room is a bomb. Please pick the stuff off of the floor so that she can get in here and clean.

Ethan: (whine) WHY DO I HAVE TO? I DON'T WANT TO!!!!! I'LL DO IT LATER!!!

Mommy: Ethan James, it won't kill you to pick up this stuff so that this room can be properly cleaned. Picking up all these toys is the least you could do.

Ethan: (A few moments pass) Actually Mom, just leaving everything on the floor and letting the cleaning lady pick it all up would be the least I could do.

Oy!

Oracle Speaks: Presidential Elections

Hillary and a moderate Democrat. Not Obama. She doesn't want anyone to steal her thunder and Obama won't bring her anything in the general election. The liberal Democrats will be pissed but will vote for her anyway because they have no where else to go. There won't be a Nader to jump ship to, I don't think. Plus, they think she will win so they want to back a winner.

Rudy and Romney. Rudy will win the primaries because Republicans will get over his personal life and left-leaning domestic ideas because they want someone who will beat Hillary and they will rightly conclude that only he can do it. Rudy will pick someone to shore up his conservative voters and Romney will do this. Fred Thompson is a possibility also, but I put him behind Romney because Mitt has boo-koo money in the kitty. Mitt will take the job because it will be a stepping stone to a potentially successful White House run in 8 years.

In the general election, Rudy will win. If California switches their electoral vote process (now winner takes all, proposed is winner gets a bonus 2 and the rest are divided based on the popular vote in the state), Rudy will win handily. In the end, security will be the issue.

That is my prediction. Let's see if I crash and burn. Ha ha.

Weather Blues

Here I go again. I love living in the Midwest but I have a major beef with the weather. Californians are horrified at some of the low temps we see during the winter. But that's not what I'm ranting about at the moment. I'm no fan of 15 below--that's for sure. Still, I'll take it over a sweaty Chicago August anytime. Everyone and everything are literally doused in humidity. When we run the AC in the house, the windows drip with condensation. And of course there are the bugs. I'm stealing Woody Allen's line here: The bugs are as big as Buicks. The other day I watched in horror as a flying insect the size of a hummingbird landed on McKenna's back. Thankfully she didn't notice.

Every year, Oracle hears my broken-record spiel about this hot, wretched month. For some reason, as soon as the month is over, I put it out of my head completely, perhaps as a way to avoid my version of weather related PTSD. The following year, along comes August and I'm taken by surprise that it managed to rear it's ugly mug once again. Call it my coping mechanism. Go figure.

Frizzy hair, red face, sweaty skin, heat related break-outs. A vision to behold.

The light at the end of the tunnel is Fall, glorious and colorful in all it's grandeur. For folks who don't live in climates where there are true seasons, it's hard to fully appreciate a Midwestern Autumn. Maybe if August were not so miserable, I would not be enamored with the Fall. Who knows? But I'm looking forward to cooling down and jumping in the leaves with my shrimpers. And tucking crazy August away in the cob webbed recesses yet again.

Hairspray - Loved It!

Ethan has been asking about this movie for the past month or so. We all went today and it was sooo good. Jim is not a big fan of musicals and even he loved it. The kids were singing and bouncing along with the WONDERFUL soundtrack. John Travolta is amazing and every bit the Edna Turnblad that Divine was in the John Waters' original. In fact, I actually like the new Hairspray better . The Ricki Lake version was good mind you. But it was campy and had an underground, tongue-in-cheek vibe. And I found it just a little bit dark for some reason. The new Hairspray is a stage production made for the screen. I had that same wanna-get-up-and-dance-feeling like I had with Mama Mia. It's positive, it's fun. And that's just fine by me.


There were a couple of mild, suggestive gestures that the kids could have done without but oh well. And a wee bit of crude humor but nothing too over-the-top. The PG rating was fitting. Still, the tone of the film is so optimistic and upbeat that the few, fleeting detractors I mentioned are well worth enduring. I can't forget to mention that the new Tracy Turnblad, Nikki Blonsky--she's perfect for the role. Great voice, great dancer. I'm glad they took a chance on an unknown instead of picking a skinny starlet and trying to doctor her up with extra weight. Tracy had to be the real deal and is she ever.

We all left the theater with smiles and the kids were dancing their way back to the car. We bought the soundtrack on itunes as soon as we got home!

I totally recommend. Four stars from this Wheaton mommy.

Webkinz Intervention??

Ok, I'll admit it. I'm a closet Webkinz junkee. Turns out that lots of other moms are too. How sad is that? Ethan always has tons on Kidzcash because I make it for him the night before. Cash Cow 2 is my game.

Ethan has Jumpy and Spottie. McKenna has Cutie and Hoppy. And yes--Mommy has Mommykinz--the Pink Poodle. I have to watch out for the kidkinz, even in Webkinz world.

I have seriously gone off the deep edge. I often debate Ethan on Star Wars "issues".

The crazy, goofy life of a SAHM. :-)

Diplomacy For Dummies

Kickin' it with Hugo Chavez?

I'm not a huge fan of Perez Hilton. I find his humor offensive and and mean spirited. But I'll freely admit I'm with him on this one.


At best, Sean Penn is brain dead. At worst, he's a traitor. I can't decide which. Maybe he is both.

If he's such a proponent of redistributing wealth, why doesn't he just redistribute all of his money? I would like to see just how far he could propel his career in Venezuela? He would last about a week and a half and then he would be asking for his people to get him outta there.

This is the worst and most disheartening use of fame that I have seen in a long time. Not as blatant as Jane Fonda's Viet Kong hi-jinx--but equally ill advised.

Unbelievable.

Happy 60th Birthday Mom

July 30, 2007

So far away
Doesn't anybody stay in one place anymore
It would be so fine to see your face at my door
Doesn't help to know you're just time away

Long ago I reached for you and there you stood
Holding you again could only do me good
Oh, how I wish I could
But you're so far away

One more song about moving along the highway
Can't say much of anything that's new
If I could only work this life out my way
I'd rather spend it being close to you

But you're so far away
Doesn't anybody stay in one place anymore
It would be so fine to see your face at my door
Doesn't help to know you're so far away

Traveling around sure gets me down and lonely
Nothing else to do but close my mind
I sure hope the road don't come to own me
There's so many dreams I've yet to find

But you're so far away
Doesn't anybody stay in one place anymore
It would be so fine to see your face at my door
Doesn't help to know you're so far away
(So Far Away - Carole King)

Sad News

Greg as I remember him

Just heard today that Greg High died in his sleep very recently. I knew him from grade school at Queen of Apostles in San Jose. He was a sweet, kind, harmless boy who had a certain goofy charm. Greg was the first boy I ever danced with. He called me "sproing"because of my curly hair. In seventh grade, he asked me if I wanted to "go around". I may have said yes and then I think I changed my mind because I was embarrassed by the silliness of an 8th grade dating arrangement. I hope I didn't hurt his feelings.

Greg in recent times

May Greg find great love as he is reunited with our Father in Heaven.

Can't Wait Until This Week Ends!

OK...this week has officially been the absolute worst in years. My biggest Ethan challenge to date. Nothing insurmountable...just very humbling for this Mom who prides herself on being kinda decent at this raising-children-thing. Just when you think you have it all figured out, your child will throw you a major curve ball. Like Mommy, Ethan is intense, anxious and I dare say more than a little complicated. He often asks me about death. He worries about becoming poor. (?) He cries over the mildest of sentimentality in movies, TV, and in books. So, it's fair to say that I'm accustomed to Ethan's cloudy side. I just wasn't prepared for this week's challenge. I'll leave it at that. Nothing abnormal or earth shattering. Just a real test of my parenting skills and my ability to turn a challenge into an opportunity. Sometimes, this is a really, really hard job. And I had to handle it on my own as Jim was in NY this week.

My Dad had some tough medical news today. The issue is treatable and in many cases curable. Still, it may involve surgery and further treatment. My thoughts and prayers are with him tonight.

Behind, behind, behind on everything related to the house. And I mean everything.

Tapped on words at the moment. Goodnight.

41...Came and Went

The day that marked my 41st year was just OK. Jim and the kids remembered and I heard from my loyal contingent of birthday die hards. God bless them.

I just don't feel like blogging much lately. I just have to get the spirit again.

You just have to get up the next day and deal. Even if the inspiration eludes you. Your kids don't care that you're not feelin' it. So, you go through the motions and hope something sticks along the way.

This will pass. It always does.

Ethan loved Avalance Ranch Bible camp. McKenna wished that she could go. Karate resumes next week. Then swim lessons. Then Safety City safety camp. McKenna is at Creme de la Creme and has started to accept her fate as a pre-schooler. My sweet baby girl.

Lots of social commitments over the next month and then we're in full swing for back-to-school. Ethan starts Kindergarten. My precious baby boy.

That's all I can muster tonight.