For all the good pray-ers out there

I heard the most heart-breaking news today.

Good family friends of ours have been struck by this e coli outbreak, and one of their small, baby twins may pass away.

My parents had some very close friends when we were growing up. Their children were some ten years younger than we were, so we didn't really "hang" with them, but rather, all watched each other vicariously growing up.

One of the daughters is now married and a mother of three; a four-year old, and two-year old twins, all girls. They live in Oklahoma.

To try to help her children eat healthy food, she was "juicing" vegetables for them.

The older girl - the four year old - wouldn't drink it; the taste was too yucky.

But the rest of the family did. Mom, dad and the twin babies. And they got so sick from the tainted spinach that all four had to be hospitalized.

And one of the twins is so sick still that she may not make it.

What a tragedy.

So if you have a little extra room in your prayers, if you could include her, I'd appreciate it.

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Cow Tape Part Two

This is the post I wrote that explained all about why Little Big Girl needed Tape. Right before Bath. I didn't publish this when I wrote it yesterday, like approximately every other thing I write, but due to popular demand - okay, one person asked about it - I'll put it up now.

Hope this explains a little more...

LBG has started a new hobby, which entails putting random small items in large boxes, stuffing in one piece of decorative tissue paper for "packing," and taping them shut.

Technically, the selected items are random only at first glance. If you are four, and your criteria is:

1 - things your friends might like, tempered by

2 - things you don't mind parting with

then yes, by all means, these things are in no way random. They are quite specifically selected.

For instance, in one box, there was placed:

1 - the fuzzy circle-thing that goes around and softens the ear part of earphones. (Yes, surely, they have a name, but whatever that is escapes me now.) On a given set of earphones, there are two. This package included - one.

2 - one red and green plastic fork from the toy kitchen. The type baby sister likes a lot.

3 - one ripped strip of paper. From the cards mom pulls out of magazines. One from the dozen or so strips currently to be found lying around the house. Because it is so fun to take those cards - possibly even pulling them out of the trash if need be - and rip them into strips. So fun, in fact, that it was necessary to teach Baby how to do it too, so that the two of you can sit at your little table ripping, ripping the cards into strips. It's a very intense project. And the ensuing strips are really good for . . . for . . .they will eventually be good for something. So good, in fact, that we could part with exactly - one - in this particular gift box.

The taping usually requires some help from mom. And once taped, it is fairly quickly forgotten. It shuttles from behind the couch to under the counter. And eventually it is time to make a new one. And sometimes there are two or three at a time being moved from one end of the family room to the other. Until mommy can't take it anymore, and puts them away in the toy closet, because she feels too guilty to take the gift box apart.

And then toys need to be put in the closet and guilt be damned, the box gets taken apart, and the various parts reunited with their peers or put in their rightful place. (To use our earlier example: headphones, toy kitchen, trash.)

And thus, although a variety of tape is used - masking, packing, and duct - I had a hint of what Little Big Girl might be talking about when she asked me for the Cow Tape.

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WFDW!!!!

Okay, spit it out. So to speak.

What's for dinner Wednesday?

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Cow tape

Me: It's time for your bath.
Little Big Girl: First, I need some tape.
Me: What kind of tape?
LBG (looking at me, clearly trying to think): The cow tape.
Me: (pause)
Me: The DUCT tape?
LBG: Yeah, yeah! The Duck tape!

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So in this Purely Hypothetical situation . . .

When a child is able to yell, quite clearly, in a restaurant:

I want to NURSE, RIGHT NOW!!

. . . . it is possible the time has come.

(Yes, I have the role of The Mother in this purely, just say, not like this ACTUALLY HAPPENED hypothetical scenario. The other players:

speaking part: "Baby" - age 2
observing parts: Spousal - smirking
Little Big Girl - focused on sopapillas
bit players: rest of restaurant patrons on the patio at El Pinto - attempting to ignore clearly-enunciating child attempting to rip mother's shirt off at the table in the corner)

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The tide is . . . turning?

Here's a great article over at MSNBC on Moms who want to On-Ramp - er, professional women who would like to get back in the workforce after taking time off to be with kids, and how businesses are finally, finally thinking that's a good idea. (Thanks to my loyal reader Colleen for pointing this out.)

I'd like to think it had something to do with all us Mommy Bloggers out there going - Hello?!!! American Business?! Hello! Yeah. It's me. We rocked your world, about five years ago. And now you won't take our calls? Right. Right. That whole - had a kid, lost her mind - we know. We know that's what you think (under breath: you (expletive deleted)). We have news for you. Now we're more organized, more on top of things, more patient, just as smart and WAY less willing to take any short shrift, if you know what I mean. So open the goddamned door already.

The article doesn't site the Mommy Bloggers though. Something about a Harvard Business School report, I don't know. But I ask you - where did HBS GET it's idea to study this topic, huh? To notice there's this whole "fourth recruiting pool" of women out there trained, experienced and ready, unnoticed. Yeah. Mommy Bloggers aren't getting the credit we deserve for raising this topic, is all.

In general, I'm happy to see such an article, in a mainstream place; glad to read that large investment and consulting firms are reaching out to once-stay at home moms. That's great.

I did think one thing was funny, though. I guess it's my whole blogging experience talking but - I find it ironic, and useless, that as part of a reaching-out program to once-professional SAHMs, the large companies include "what not to say about being a stay at home mom in an interview."

I mean, you just notice we're out there, and you're going to tell US what not to say?

The session they OUGHT to have at such a conference is: tell us about YOUR experience. What should WE not say or ask when interviewing YOU. What should we know about your off-work experience that would help us recruit you better when you're ready to come back?

I don't know. I can just see some 27 year old male MBA getting "stuck" writing the list of questions a 42 year old, fifteen-year careerist turned SAHM ought not to say in her interview. And all I can say is, thanks for the nod, American Business. You tried, you really did, and we acknowledge that. We appreciate it, even.

But call us when you want to really GET IT.

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Mice, cheaters, random ideas flying out of my head...

My blog posts are building up in my brain and I feel like the whole thing might just reach critical mass, and I'll be walking down Central Avenue and paragraphs on random topics will fly out of my ears and pop people on their noggins. Highly educated, rarified intellect level, obscurely proficient people will be pelted with paragraphs about Mice! and Screw drivers! and Friends from high school who got married and still decided to hit on me! I'm not sure they will know what hit them. (Equally likely, they may not notice.)

If I just capture them perhaps they won't annoy the random nuclear scientist walking the streets of our town, doing calculus in his head.

These are posts I'm going to write, soon:

The one I keep writing in my head about the (annoying) time in my dating life when I was hit on by not one but two married men, at the same time. Ew.

The one about the mouse that keeps visiting our knife drawer. Our knife drawer? WHY our knife drawer? I just want to ask it that.

(Spousal notices because it leaves mouse droppings at the back of the drawer. I notice because it leaves blades of grass in the front of the drawer, under the knives. Ew. Either way. Ew.)

The great stories about Little Big Girl I've been stockpiling. (Preschool Teacher: LBG is doing great! She's always takes things to another level. Me: Really? Like what? (does that even mean?) Teacher: Well, LBG is in her xxxmumbojumbo Mom-ought-to remember name of era Organizational Phase. So when the other kids play with this (peg set), they're doing good to put the pegs in. Me: uh huh. Teacher: Because of her XYZ Phase, she puts all the same colors in a row. Me: oh, I see. Teacher: of course, with LBG, she puts the rows in in the order of the rainbow. Me: (to self) Oh. NOW I see. (to teacher) Oh? Well, er...wow. Gee. No kidding? Huh. Teacher (to self): ...not that she's getting those skills from *you*....)

There are others. Like realizing I'm missing the kind of time I had with LBG at this point, with Baby(Toddler). Baby was always too little to do things herself, so we'd go together to watch LBG do things. And now, she's old enough...but at the daycare. Hm. I'm thinking I need to take her out once in awhile and take her to her own little classes. It's not the same as hanging out with a little kid all day long, like I did with LBG...but at least it's something....

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Weaving means I love you

Baby (okay, Toddler) has entered a stage that Little Big Girl did at the same age.

One of her eyes has started to wander. Just once in awhile, and seemingly at random times.

The pediatrician for Little Big Girl said, when you see it happening, make her look at something. Grab the nearest object, hold it aloft, and when she looks at it, her eyes will straighten out.

With Little Big Girl, it worked like a charm. I’d see her eye wander, I'd hold up the nearest thing - a toy, a sweater, a magazine - and say, Look! Look!

She would look from me to the Shiny Object, her eyes would focus on it, and they’d totally straighten out. Eventually she stopped having that lazy eye.

With Baby? Not so much.

I see the eye wander, I grab the nearest thing, hold it aloft and say, Look! Look! And she just keeps looking right at me. Not even a hint of looking at whatever it is I am holding up. Just keeps looking my way, with her sweet, goofy little smile, and the most adoring eyes you've ever seen. (Although, crossed.)

I have to yet to find an object that will make her look away. Not a toy, not a book, not a fork.

So then I started to pretend to be really, really interested in the object myself. I’d look at it, and look at it from another vantage point, and essentially weave my head in front of it back and forth.

She still won’t look at it.

She will, however, imitate me.

So while STILL LOOKING AT *ME*, she will also lean left, and lean right, and lean left, and keep weaving her head back and forth.

Used to be she’d do this when I was doing it; I'd look at the measuring cup, notice she wasn't looking at it, so I'd look at with my head tilted left, then right, then left.

I'd look at her. She'd be looking at me, leaning her head left, then right, then left. With a sweet, sweet grin.

And now? No object needs to be held aloft. She'll just see me, give me a big smile, and lean her head left, right, left.

She thinks this is normal behavior. See someone you love, give them a big grin, and continue smiling while leaning one way, then back, and forth. She's really good at it.

And it's really, really cute.

It's just not doing much for that lazy eye.

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What's for Dinner Wednesday?

Something delish?

Or something de-squish? :)

What you're REALLY having - that's what we're all about here. Not some fancy, recipe-driven four-course meal. (Unless that's what you're really having.) I mean what you actually EAT. That's right. That popcorn over there. That package of frozen spinach, whole. A couple of bananas and peanut butter. Pizza with vegies. Whatever! We're all about the truth here. So have at it. And/or blog all about it and we'll all come visiting. (All four of us...)

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Because of all that spare time I have...

Okay! One down, four more to go! Er, something like that.

Actually, the one down is the benefit Home Tour. It was a smashing success! Turns out people in this town really turned out - something we weren't sure whether to expect or not - to see some great homes. (Since the govenment built a lot of our homes, in the forties and fifties....not everyone realizes that hidden here and there are some great homes.)

Next we have a great fund-raising benefit coming up. For the Home Tour I was just a committee member. This one I get to be the big boss.

(There really aren't four more. Because technically two of the volunteer gigs I was involved in are over at this point, and I was just a bit player in one. And the fourth that is left is not one big event, but an ongoing volunteer deal - running meetings - which I love - and the whole point is to keep them on time so dangnabit I pretty much do...)

Phew for now on the volunteer front until things gear up again in a few weeks.

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What I really hate is expensive jewelry, namely, bracelets

This is kind of funny.

Remember, um, yesterday's post? All about how I'm not drinking coffee anymore?

Today I got this in the (e)mail:

Folgers Is Very Interested In Your Blog!

Dear Krisco,
I'm writing to you from Bridge Worldwide, a relationship marketing agency that's working with the makers of Folgers(R) to promote the launch of their new Gourmet Selections(TM) coffees.

Get Free Gourmet Coffee!

We would love to send you free samples of new gourmet-inspired, deliciously aromatic coffees. Why? Because we recognize that others value your opinions, and that you take the time to share your insights.

How funny is that? Maybe they did a search on "blog" and "coffee" - or more likely "joe" since I don't think I even used the word "coffee" - and they sent every hit this.

I think I'm going to write a whole post about how I don't like gold jewelry anymore, either. Or white gold or platinum for that matter. And sapphires? Forget it!

There. Let's see if that works.


*********************

(And this could inspire a whole post about the ethics and obligations of blog advertising - not to mention not boring your readership TOO much more than usual.

This one, for instance, makes me feel a little more guilty than some others I've seen, because they actually ask for a review. They say:

What's the catch? There is none. All we ask is that you post an honest review on your blog.

They go on to say it could be good or bad (but bad press is good press, right?) but they hope we like it, yadda yadda.

This is considerably more specific than, say, an offer I got from Clorox Wipes a while back. Now I should NOT HAVE TAKEN that offer, because I knew I wouldn't use them. I knew I not only wouldn't use them, I would write some scathing review about how THE COMPANY THEMSELVES admits the product triggers asthmatic reactions, and also nerve system damage and yadda yadda I could write a river about that stuff. But then I felt guilty doing THAT, because they did send me a free product and all. So it sat under my desk at my new workplace for several months, until I got moved to a new desk, and I conveniently, I mean absentmindedly, left it behind, at which point the office manager asked me if I wanted my box back. At which point I gave her the products therein. With a FULL and THOROUGH warning about how the world would be a better place if she just threw them out - but not in the local trash, take them to the toxic landfill, they are technically toxic ACCORDING TO THE COMPANY THEMSELVES. But she said it had her favorite feature, namely, free, and happily took it home. Promising not to breath any of it while she cleaned.

And the coffee? Oh, I'm taking it. It has my favorite feature too.

I'll see if this one makes me less confused. Or tastes somewhat more like Starbucks.

And rather than write about it - oh, okay, I will, what the hell, they ASKED me to - I'll let you get your own free one yourselves, here).

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Joe No Go

I've started drinking coffee at work.

Mostly because it tastes good, and it's fun.

I could never drink coffee before. Yes, I made it through three years of law school - not to mention three before that as a philosophy major (although that was fun so I guess it wasn't needed) - without the joe. Not a single cup.

(Wait, I had one. As my study group first year gathered in the little campus dining hall near the law school, I got a cup and loaded it up with sugar and cream. A guy in my study group observed and said, horrified: You taint your joe?! I looked at that swirly little cream cloud and thought, Hell yeah! That's the point, right?)

Anyway, that was my last cup in that era. I've always been sort of - let me think how to put this - wired. More energy? I don't think so. In other words: please God, no.

Turns out, people like me, coffee calms you down. I probably could have done with a cup of joe back then; it would have mellowed me out.

Now? I must be in-between phases. (Age, and all.) It doesn't really calm me down. And, to be honest, it doesn't really wire me up either. But it does - and I just put this together recently - make it so I can't concentrate as well.

Little organizational tasks - like picking houses to show based on my client's interests, organizing the listings by area of town, noting a preferred time, re-sorting by listing office in order to schedule the appointments - suddenly seem - disjointed. Where before I would move through the task in order, post-joe I seem to get distracted. Sort first - wait, what about the offices - hold up, where's the parts of town - no, interests first - what am I doing again?...

Anyway, I'm over the joe. It's bitter anyway. It was fun for awhile, but I've had my flirtation. And I think I need the brain power.

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Baby turns two and maybe needs a new nickname

Baby turned two this weekend, and we had a big ol' party.

(I guess I really can’t call her Baby anymore, can I? And probably shouldn't have for the last year. I often call her my Little Person at home, because she is so little but so definite in her personality. Hm. I’ll have to cogitate on a new moniker.)

Anyway, it was fun. We had all of her friends – the two little girls she goes to the babysitter's with, and a couple other little kids who get dropped off there regularly (who happen to be our friends' children). We also had some of our other friends and their kids, including the little girl that Baby admires so much - the "big girl" who lives down the street and is three.

There was also cake, and presents, and bouncing. Lots of bouncing.



For a magical 14 seconds, all the children stood in one place and looked in roughly the same direction for a picture. And then one of them realized that the bouncy COULD BE HERS ALL HERS and she made a break for it - bursting out of the line, running around it, to be followed 2.5 seconds later by all the other kids.



(Notice the space with one missing? And the little boy watching her go?)

But we got our photo moment.

Baby got everything a two year old could need - a babydoll the size of, approximately, herself, a bunch of plastic dress up shoes, and innumberable markers, crayons, and coloring books.

And we actually got her *exactly * what she wanted.




That's right. Band-aids.

About a week before her birthday, I asked her what she wanted for her birthday. Mostly I was curious to see what she'd have to say.

And she said: Band-aids.

I even confirmed it. Band-aids? Band-aids, she said. Self-assuredly.

Now, to be fair, I wasn't so sure she really understood the question. But we went with it.

I think she actually knew exactly what she was talking about.



(Keep in mind this is one of only about eight piles of bandaid detritus scattered about the house.)

Dolls? Fine. Markers? Okay. But Band-aids? We rule.

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Denis McHugh III

Denis McHugh was young, handsome, funny and succesful.

He loved to dance and to regale people with his stories. He especially loved to dance at weddings, and was on everyone's wedding video out on the dance floor, having a great time.

He regaled people with stories of his work, and his life, sometimes getting people to wipe tears from their eyes with laughter. He loved his family and his friends, which were legion. He had friends from school and from work, but also from working in the same building, from everywhere he went in life.

Denis was killed in the World Trade Center attacks on 9.11.01.

In trying to learn about Denis for this memorial, I found several sites where people could post comments to him. One woman, a friend, left post after post. And I thought, she really cared about him. And then I realized - each post was from a different year. She didn't write and write the year that he died. Each year she came back and posted again; still missing him, still thinking of him, still wishing to communicate, in some way.

Denis's father died when he was young, and he became the go-to guy for his family, always having an answer to their questions. He was very close with his two young nephews, too - an active uncle.

Denis was a young man happy and engaged in his life.

Losing his life, like the others, way too soon.

We can only imagine how we would have loved to dance at his own wedding.

technorati tags: Denis J. McHugh III, 2996, Blog Tribute

This memorial is part of the 2996 Blog Tribute to 9/11 Victims.

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Volunteering is good for the soul. And the Boss Man in you.

Have I mentioned that in addition to a couple other minor things - kids, husband, job - I am volunteering for four different non-profits? Oh, did I forget to mention that?

The first is an event near and dear to my heart and I'm thrilled to be involved - it's a big "resale" - where everyone in town sells their kids under-7 clothes / books / toys / boots (just like the Little Engine That Could carries!) and buys someone else's. (Did I mention we have no shopping here? And buying someone else's used things is, like, thrilling? And that grandmas from Sweden and Switzerland and Germany - did I mention we have a lot of foreigners? - send these amazing and beautiful things we can buy on the cheap? Yeah.)

So I'm happy to do that. I'm the Chair, no less. The big boss. (Funny, when I wrote "happy" just there I initially typed "scare...." . Freudian slip, anyone?) (Actually, it's going well and I have an awesome co-chair and incredible marketing gal. Having the right team is everything and makes you feel more confident about the task ahead....)

The other is facilitating some meetings in town which, frankly, I had heard had gotten out of hand. (Four hour meetings of volunteers? I don't think so.) I love facilitating, I really do. It is fun to keep a meeting "on time and on task." As the facilitator I don't have to get involved in the content of the meeting at all - they can vote to build a bridge to the moon for all I care - but I do make sure we stick to the process (their process), that only actual decision makers get to make decisions (the president? or a quorum?)(and I know the answers to who gets to decide what going in), and only agenda items are discussed. We "capture" those random ideas and thoughts that come up in the meeting, and dispose of them at the end. (Agenda item next time? Assigned task? Purgatory in perpetuity?)

Finally, I'm a committee member on a Home Tour. This is a benefit for a great organization in town, and the homes that we picked are great. It will be really fun. And I love - and utilized a lot - the agency it's a benefit for when I was a stay at home mom. Remember, this is a small town. There are no Mom's Clubs. No Kid's Museums. No Art Museums or Puppets in the Park or Children's Concert Series or Ropes Course at the local school. There is only this place. Playgroup on Wednesdays. I was there.

Oh, and, I forgot - one other little event. Actually, a big event but I have a small role. I am assigning the prices and setting up organization for the tickets for one of the few events for kids we do have in town, a little once-a-year fair. Hilariously, to me, over the years there has been some kind of bizarre ticket inflation with the price of the rides, and it was to the point last year where the pony rides were like a billion tickets. Okay, like 20 or 30 but that is nuts! People counting out all these tickets and everyone waiting while so many are counted with each ride, and the ticket takers dealing with buckets and buckets and buckets of tickets.

Just because I found that so irritating - and it's a small town, we can all GET INVOLVED - I volunteered to fix JUST THAT. I am like the Economic Policy Advisor of the fair, and I am instituting a currency valuation increase. Or is that a decrease? (For some reason don't they call that a "devaluation" when it happens in other countrys? Like in Mexico or Italy when they suddenly declare that the tens of thousands of pesos or lires it costs to buy one thing now only costs 100?)

I don't know. I don't remember my Econ 101 anymore and am unwilling to look it up. I do know the pony ride is going to cost 8 tickets. Period.

And somewhere after that I guess I'll go to work.

(Ha! Here's something funny. When I went to find the link for the resale from a year ago, I used the EXACT SAME Little Engine That Could reference! Sometimes I scare myself.)

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A new name that works for me

Somehow, mysteriously, our other computer - the one the kids are allowed to touch, as opposed to this one, not that that stops them - has a decapitated mouse.

Seriously, the cord is just sliced right through.

We have no idea how, or who. But we have some ideas.

I'm going with the desk drawer and an over-enthusiastic four-year-old drawer-shutter. Or possibly an over-enthusiastic almost-two-year-old drawer-shutter.

Nonetheless, it doesn't work too good now.

Our baby - the almost-two one - was trying to explain this to her sitter. That it's broken. The 'puter. On account of the sliced-off mouse.

What she actually got out was something a little different.

The sitter realized she was talking about the computer, one at our house. And that there was something wrong.

Something wrong - with the animal that has no teeth.

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Blame Shifting - Just Say No

I am outraged. Again.

ABC/Disney is planning to air a show, presented as a "docudrama" - meaning people will believe the events depicted actually happened - and claims it's "based on the 9/11 Commission Report" - although it is not - showing fictional events that, if they were true, would put the blame for not capturing bin Laden before 9/11 squarely on Bill Clinton's shoulders.

In particular, it has a scene depicting the CIA with the ability to bomb bin Laden's house, and calling the White House for approval, and Bill Clinton denying it.

This event, in fact, never happened. According to the "terrorism czar" who worked for at least two Republican administrations as well as Clinton's. This is a completely fictional event, in a show produced by a known propagandist conservative.

Conveniently before the elections.

I am outraged. As feeble as it sounds, I sent an email to Robert Iger, president of Disney, to say so.

And threatened to boycott Disney products. And threatened to lobby my blogging friends into writing and doing the same.

My email is feeble. But yours and mine together might make them shake in their lying boots.

Here's some more info.

Where to write to Iger: here: http://www.democrats.org/pathto911.

And here's more specific text from an email you can forward, from the Democratic party:

"The ABC television network, owned by the Walt Disney Company, is airing what it calls a "docudrama" entitled "The Path to 9/11". ABC has claimed the mini-series is based on the 9/11 Commission Report, but that is simply not true. "The Path to 9/11" is actually a bald-faced attempt to slander Democrats and revise history right before Americans vote in a major election.

Tell Walt Disney president Robert Iger to keep this propaganda off the air:

http://www.democrats.org/pathto911
Thanks!"

(If you think I'm nuts, please say so!)

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Or, read the summary here

Here's the summary of the next post:

Who should get to raise this baby: the adoptive family who has raised the baby for the last 2 1/2 years, or the biological father who was never told his ex-girlfriend was pregnant?

The dad found out about his baby at two months old, and has been fighting in court ever since.

What do you think?

(Click the link in the post below for the New Mexico case.)

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Who's your daddy?

So here's a question for you.

A man and a woman date for a brief period of time. They break up. She's pregnant, but he has no idea.

Two months after she gives birth and gives the baby up for adoption, the biological father finds out, because the adoption agency tracks him down.

He files for custody. It takes a year, and the court says - You abandoned the baby when you broke up with the woman and had nothing to do with her during the pregnancy. No parental rights.

He appeals. Another year later the next court up says, Okay, you do have parental rights. They send the case back to decide if he gets to take the baby away from it's adopted family or not. The baby is now 2 1/2.

This is happening in New Mexico right now. Read all about it here.

Here's what struck me.

First, the court timeframe - SO WRONG. Courts should not take years to decide custody cases.

Children are not a can of beans. They care who holds them this morning, feeds them this afternoon and puts them to bed tonight. Next week is bad enough. Child custody cases need to be expedited to the head of the line, immediately.

And the decision? I have to admit my inital reaction was: the first court got it right. If a man doesn't even KNOW a woman is pregnant - clear abrogation of duties right there.

But then that whole life-experience, parenthood changing your perspective thing kicked in. Damn! It's not that black and white!

Because it occurred to me: that really sucks for that guy. (I didn't say life experience made me more eloquent.)

I can't imagine, now, finding out that I have a child, and being told that I can't have anything to do with him or her.

(Of course, I can't imagine finding out there is a biological child of mine out there sans nine months of body-changing, burping, barfing pregnancy culminating in 24 hours of body-ripping pain. But that's a whole other post.)

It also occurs to me that you should not be able to adopt out your child without the consent of the other parent. We wouldn't allow the father to take the baby from the hospital nursery and adopt her out on his own...so why can the mom?

That's so obvious, maybe there already is a law. Maybe that's why they contacted this dad eventually. So then we're back to the court being the major culprit.

Mostly, of course, it's horrible for the child. His parents, according to him, are the ones who've been his parents lo these many 2 1/2 years of his life. He likes them, I'm willing to bet. Removing him now? That's not right.

So maybe we say in this case, Okay, we screwed up. You, bio-dad, should have been notified, and you weren't. Thanks for the headsup, we won't let it happen again. But you are better able to suffer this blow than a small child ripped from his mommy's arms. Sorry.

In the end, that's where I land. It's not as clear-cut as my first knee-jerk reaction or the first court made it sound. But the bottom line? Baby needs to stay where he is, regardless of how unfair and ripped off bio-dad is.

But my question is, what say you, Shiny Interneters?

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I heart the Crocodile Hunter

I am really bummed out about this.

Why is it all the best celebrities have tragic things happen to them early?

Whereas the rest of them never seem to leave us alone?

Seriously.


technorati tags: Steve Irwin, Princess Diana, JFK Jr., Michael Jackson, Paris Hilton, Prince Charles

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Driving, driving, driving

We went to Santa Fe for the day today, to pick up some basic necessities.

There is still a movement afoot in this town to scuttle our only chance of bringing in a Target or a Whole Foods or a normal store of any sort. The thought of people opposing that - and of us having to continue to drive off this mountain an hour each way through BLM and National Forest land just to buy new jeans for my little girl or a doll for my toddler's birthday party or a Palmpilot for me or a lunch kit for Spousal - when the whole freaking town is driving off the hill to do the same thing - drives.me.nuts.

The expression I'm making right now is exactly what George Costanza does when he says that. (Face squinted, fists in air, batting both of them around at random.)

But both girls were cute and we mostly had a nice day together. Had to eat out twice (of course - if you have to be out all day and drive two hours...) We went to Spousal's favorite - Indian food - for lunch and a decent sit-down New Mexican place for dinner. But it's hard for little kids to mind all day, especially when you're running errands, and if I said "Little Big Girl, stay with me," one time, I definitely said it a thousand. Half the time I got ignored and half I got a sweet little "okay, mom" and she'd run to catch up.

I also distinctly remember thinking how cute Baby was at one point; smiling and talking - she's really putting ideas and words together these days - and patting my back and smoothing my hair while I held her - and the next minute she had an absolute meltdown over something I can't even remember what it was now. (Probably something she wanted. Hence all the cooing, patting and smooting of my hair as a lead-in to ask for something she knew was unlikely.)

Now wouldn't it be nice if we could have these little moments - and then go home? Like, that same actual day? New jeans, babydoll and lunch kit in hand? (Because even Santa Fe was out of Palmpilots.)

Yah.

technorati tags: Los Alamos, Target, Whole Foods

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