Playing Favorites

Orange: Mommy, you’re the best in this whole, in this whole, in this whole family.

Me: That is why you are my favorite.

(Just kidding.  Never tell them who’s your favorite; they’ll have no reason to compete for your affection.)

Did I Ever Tell You About the Time…

that I asked the Jellyman to buy me some glycerine for bubble solution?  And the only form he could find was as suppositories, so he came home with like this giant pack of suppositories so that I could make the stupid bubbles?  And he was all, “That was awesome, thanks for that experience?”

And then it only took part of the pack to make the bubbles, which were lame anyway, so we’ve had these glycerine suppositories sitting in the kitchen cupboard for months?  And the Jellyman’s brain somehow blocked out the entire humiliating event?  And then he came across the remainder of the suppository pack when he was looking for something else, and he was all, “Why in the hell do we have suppositories in the KITCHEN CUPBOARD?”  And I had to remind him that he went all over the pharmacy and had to discuss the uses of glycerine with some teenage pharmacy employee in order to find stuff so his kids could make bubbles that weren’t nearly as good as the store-bought kind?

And he said, “Right, I think you still owe me for that.”

I probably do.   But it’s still funny.

Really

If you’re going to tell me “no” anyway, is it necessary to make me defend my position first, just so I can feel worse when you dismiss all my reasons?

I’m just saying.

A Different Take on Tragedy

I wish you all could see the posts on my friends’ Facebook pages today.  One of them is the wife of a pastor at the Wichita church where Dr. Tiller was shot yesterday, and the other is a member of that congregation.

Every single comment (EVERY. ONE.) is about love and peace, and none (NOT. ONE.) mentions abortion at all.

There are a lot of divisive, difficult issues wrapped up in Dr. Tiller’s story, and Christians (being human) will naturally disagree about the rights and wrongs of it all.  True Christians, however, will work hard to look past the disagreements and focus on loving all the people affected by this.  I’m watching love in action as I obsessively refresh my Facebook feeds, and it’s balm to my heart after the comments I’ve read in many news stories about the shooting.

There are suggestions out there today that people should donate to pro-choice organizations in support of Dr. Tiller, or to pro-life organizations in support of nonviolent abortion protests.  Those are both completely valid responses, as far as I’m concerned.*  For my part, I think I’ll be donating to the church that will need to minister simultaneously to the family, friends, and supporters of Dr. Tiller and to members of the community who disagreed with him but still decry his killing.

*I’ve edited this part several times, and I’m still not satisfied, but here goes: I can live with the contradictions of a middle-of-the-road position better than I can live with the what-ifs of an all-or-nothing approach.

Raisin’s Quotes of the Day

Raisin’s 6-month-long dance career is reaching its pinnacle this weekend with The Recital.   Last night was dress rehearsal, and she was so excited about that I don’t think she’ll sleep until after the last performance.  As she said herself, “It’s my first time on a stage!”

She was born for the stage.

On a distinctly less glamorous note, she called me into the bathroom because I’d forgotten to replace the toilet paper and, “I went more poop than you ever dreamed of, Mom!”

For the record, I’ve seen worse.

Memorial

Yesterday at church, the pianist played a medley of patriotic songs* while a slideshow played overhead.  One of the pictures was the Iwo-Jima-like one of the firefighters at Ground Zero.  I’m sure you know the one I mean.

Raisin asked me about it.  As she’s 5, and as the service was about to start, I gave her the barest of explanations.  Even still, I couldn’t get through it without crying.

Hug a hero today.

*Including a very cool section of the hymns of each branch of the Armed Forces.  The veterans of each stood up for their hymn.  What a great idea!

You are jealous, I know.

I met Erin today.  She is funny and rapid-fire and lovely, and her daughters are beautiful and smart and very clean.  Even though I’d just spent 7 hours in the car with my own (utterly delightful but juice-saturated) children, I hardly felt as awkward or frumpy as I could’ve.  It seemed like Raisin and the Bear had been friends forever, and once we’d bribed Orange and Apple with pizza they decided these new people were pretty fun, too.

All hail the Internet, connector of kindred spirits!

What I Should’ve Said

An encounter with a relative (who does not read this blog) has made me feel like I need to clarify this position (for myself):

If any of our children are gay, I believe:

1) It will not be readily apparent at the age of 2 1/2, or even 5.  At this age, I’m not even sure if Orange and Apple are definitely right-handed or not.  I’m definitely not ready to “assign” them a gender role or a sexuality.

2) It will not be because of something we have done at the age of 2 1/2 or 5.  It won’t be because, for example, I allowed Apple to play dress-up in a dress.  (What would be the girl equivalent of that?  Letting them play with hammers?  Allowing them to wear comfortable shoes?  It sounds so ridiculous to my ears I can’t even fathom the logic.)

It will be because that is who they are.  As their mother, I love who they are now, and I always will.

More bluntly: I don’t believe I have any control over whether my kids are gay.  I may have some influence over whether they’re homophobic, and I intend to exert it.

More passive-aggressively: Mind your own business, aunty-dear.  Your house is made of glass when it comes to child-rearing.

Add another one to the list…

The machining plant where my dad has worked for longer than I have been alive is closing its doors in June.

My mom assures me they’ll be OK, and I believe her (really, Mom, I do!).  Prayers are appreciated nonetheless.

Thank you.

Time Makes You Bolder/Children Get Older/I’m Getting Older, Too*

I am exhausted.  

There are a lot of factors: late nights at work, worry-induced insomnia, birthday parties and baby showers to plan and host, a mini-vacation in the making.  Lots to do, as always, and never enough time to get it all done.

Unfortunately, I think we must also consider an important truth.  Namely, that thirty-one is different than twenty-two.  And I am not twenty-two.

Sad.

*That’d be the Dixie Chicks.  Or Stevie Nicks.  As you prefer.