LOST- Season 4 Opener

Ummm...thoughts?

I'd like to think I have some brilliant new ideas and theories to give to you all, but I've got nothing. Except of course that Jacob is Jack's dad. But I think we already knew that from last year.

Also, in the last scene, was it just me, or did anyone else say ELLLLEEEEOTTTT!!!

Finally, something to watch that isn't affected by the writer's strike. Thank goodness this was already written and filmed before the money mongers took over. Fight the power, writers!

How to get a reputation for being the bad seed in the family:

Step one: Smack unsuspecting cousin in the mouth.


Step two: Steal his toy.


Step three: Play with his toy in front of him, while he looks on
in anguish.


Step four: Taunt suffering cousin while smirking at the camera.

Evie's new crawling method

Evie and Mamaw

I know I'm her mom, but how cute can she get?

I can sit up all by myself

The Mucus is Here

101.8 F. That was her temperature at 5:00am.
This may not seem high in the grand scheme of life, and I know that it really is not. But when your husband comes rushing into the bedroom with a naked, squirming baby, and screams, "she's freaking burning up!!!" you tend to take notice.
I reached out for my little wriggling bundle, and indeed, she was quite warm. And naked. "Why, again, the nakedness?" I asked. "Because!!! She's freaking on fire!!!"
Ahh, yes. The fire. I see, now.
So I held her, and we administered Tylenol, of the cherry variety. This required me holding down her arms, and her head against my chest, whilst she wriggled and squirmed and tried with all her might to turn to goo in our sheets. Of course, half of the Tylenol went all over her face, and my hands. Because even though they say it's "Cherry flavored," it in fact tastes like some kind of diseased rabid cherry left in the field to die, covered in filth. I know this because I've tasted it.

After the Tylenol wrestling match, we had to get the mucus. The mucus that was preventing her from breathing. The mucus that had caked her entire face. This required a little more finesse. Skill that would have been found with a cup of coffee or some more sleep. But we had neither the coffee or the sleep. Just the little green snot monster from the hospital. And so it began. She screamed, and thrashed. I held her down, but not too tight, in an attempt to prevent a complete and total freak out. Bryan tried to get the mucus. After a minute, we switched. I'm much better with the green thing, this skill comes with the uterus. That and the eyes in the back of the head. And the ability to multi-task.

It's been a couple of hours, and really, nobody has slept much.
She seems to be feeling better. Her fever has finally broke, and other than some explosive poopy that required a full wardrobe change and full-body wash, she is un-phased. Bryan has gone off to work, and Evie is playing in her command center.
I'm drinking my coffee, and Mamaw is in the shower. Did I mention Mamaw, Bryan's grandmother? She flew in from Florida to visit for the week. She arrived yesterday, right about the time the baby started getting sick and the snow started falling.
I'm sure she's thrilled.

A Little Self Loathing

Do you ever have a day, (or month) where you mind and your brain are not on the same page? Where intellectually, you know one thing, but, you feel or think something totally different? As of late, I have been riddled with angst over the most ridiculous and insignificant. Laying in bed at night over-analyzing conversations, my behavior in social situations, feeling completely inept when around other humans. Wishing I hadn’t said certain things, or acted certain ways. Questioning my responses to the behavior or statements of others.

I know intellectually, empirically, that I shouldn’t worry about the thoughts of others, “no-one can make you feel inferior without your consent,” said the great Eleanor Roosevelt. And yet here I am, sleepless, riddled with angst, wondering whether I should have handled things differently. I feel like I’m back in high school, worrying about what everyone else thinks about me, worried I’m going to get in trouble.

It doesn’t help that I just returned from being at a family function where I felt completely insecure about my social abilities, as well as my physical appearance, knowing I had become the person that people talk about later, the one that is gossiped about, and not in a good way, but rather for how they’ve “let themselves go.” I tell myself it’s okay, I’ve had a rough last few years, and I did just have a baby a few months ago, after all. But then my cousin walks in, two weeks post partum, looking lovely and adorable, and I want to crawl under the rug and hide.

And then I mentally slap myself in the face, and tell myself to "shut up, and stop it. This is not important; this is ridiculous; you are just fine the way you are. Don’t buy in to the crap that you hate. You aren’t 12 anymore, you know better."
I tell myself all the things I would tell my students, or my own daughter. "You are good, and intelligent, and beautiful. There is no one standard, and we are just kidding ourselves if we think that we would want to be homogenized."

And just when I start to feel a little better, my demons come back and start haunting me. “Okay, but then do you remember how rude you were earlier today?” I am reminded of the time I was snippy to Bryan. Or the time I was talking with some friends and, as always, shared perhaps too much. And then I do something really stupid like, forgetting keys, or losing my phone charger, which only adds to the problem. Because, really that is something that happens to everyone, but to me, that becomes, "YOU IDIOT!!! HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN, SEE? YOU ARE A MORON!!!"

And so, more angst, more analysis. And more self-talk.

I know that it is all silly, and then I feel all the more ridiculous. Who is so vain to sit here and stew over their own conversation, to analyze every word, every behavior? It must surely be a bi-product of boredom. Certainly the women of the depression, working hours and hours a day didn’t have time to sit there and analyze whether they were or weren’t socially acceptable.

And so, I remain feeling ridiculous, and self-loathing for having these feelings in the first place. A vicious cycle indeed.

Welcome to the world, baby Henry!

My cousin Jon's little son, Henry Jonathan, arrived, January 17. He weighed in at 6lb’s 13oz and was 20” long. He is named after our great-grandfather Henry, and of course, his daddy, Jon.
Everyone is doing well. Congrats Jon and Emily!

A Political Rant...you may not like it.

Okay, neither Bryan nor I have decided who we are voting for yet. We are not working on any of the campaigns, and neither he nor I are a spokesman for any of the candidates, obviously.
However, there are some troubling emails circulating, and I've had a few discussions with some folks as of late, and I feel the need to say something:

Barack Obama DOES salute the flag, and he DOES say the pledge of allegiance.
Barack Obama was sworn in on the Bible, not the Koran.
Barack Obama, is not, nor has he ever been a Muslim; he is a member of the United Church of Christ, a non-denominational Christian Church.

Now here's the deal folks, you may not like what I have to say. Why would being a Muslim make someone incapable of being a good president?
Muslims are not the enemy. The Islamic Fundamentalists who are members of Al Quaeda, the people who flew airplanes into the Twin Towers and the Pentagon, the people who we are fighting in Afghanistan now, they are the enemy. Their interpretation of the Koran could be compared to the KKK's interpretation of Bible.

Faithful Muslims, who are the VAST majority, are not terrorists. And when I say vast majority, compare this to how many Christians in America are not members of the KKK...then multiply it by, oh 1000. At least.
(I'd love to take credit for this analogy, but in fact, it comes from "The West Wing, Abraham & Ishmael")

Furthermore, (and remember, I am a Christian) we have in this country a thing called the separation of powers. You are allowed to use whatever basis upon which to judge how you will vote, that is the beauty of living in a free democracy. But when you are evaluating the candidates, please remember that there is a reason we have a separation of church and state, and it is a very good one. For the same reason that you don't want someone telling you which God to believe in and when and where you can and cannot pray, no more should we be doing that to our leaders in government.

Also, if we are going to take a hard-nosed stand on the whole "saluting the flag" business, then let's get all the facts out there. The phrase "Under God," was added by Congress at the urging of President Eisnhower in response to fear of a Communist threat, it has not always been there.

Commandment Four of the 10 in Exodus 20 says "You shall not make for yourself an idol in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth below. Thou shall not bow down to them or worship them..."

I'm not saying we are bowing down to the flag. But we are "pledging allegiance" to it. One could argue (and many have) that to pledge allegiance to the flag, a symbol of American Nationalism is the same thing as bowing down, and in essence, those who are followers of both the Christian and Jewish faiths would be, in essence, breaking the fourth commandment by pledging allegiance.

I cannot tell you how many times we went 'round and 'round in my political theory classes at college, discussing this very issue.

Now, I salute the flag. Some don't. And they have that right, and to exercise that right is the very foundation of what it is to be American, thanks to the First Amendment.

Choosing to not salute the flag does not make you a bad American.

Finally, our forefathers were not all devout Christians; Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson were Agnostics. Thomas Jefferson, for example, actually re-wrote the Bible, taking all miraculous events OUT. I'm just saying.

Sorry my panties are all up in a twist. But when people start calling me and telling me things that are just plainly un-true, I have to respond. I may be home on poopy patrol right now, but I am a history teacher after all.

Okay, I'll get off my soap box now. I promise to return to much friendlier topics tomorrow.