Thursday, October 16, 2008

Oh Robert, I Loved You

Did you know how much I adored you?

Did you know that all these years later I can remember specific moments we spent together as clearly as the crisp days they occurred.

Maybe the memories seem clearer than they are because I have photos tucked away in an album. There I am looking at you with a big smile. Or there's the one where we're playing not realizing we're being photographed.

*sigh*

I had such a thing for older men then.

Or was it your twin brother Richard. It was always hard to tell you apart. Who knows. I was only five.

This memory is brought to you thanks to my friend Jennifer who was remember her own Robert today.

Wednesday, October 08, 2008

A Proactive Apology

My kids won't find the embarrassing stories I share with the world if I do it on another blog.

Right?

Just in case they do, let me say this.

Boys,

I want you to know that I do remember what it was like to be a pre-teen and I'm not unsympathetic. It's just that I'm discovering there are certain traditions that are the rights of every parent. And when you become parents yourselves, I fully expect you to "torture" my grandbabies in the exact same way.

Please know my sweet things that the "fights" I put up to your attempts to fit in are only for show--and I am giggling in my head the whole time. For I know hormones are taking over your body, which is prohibiting you from exhibiting any normal sort of behavior--kinda like demonic possession without the projectile vomiting (there better not be any projectile vomiting).

Sharing some of your stories with my friends?? It's just that a mamma has to do something to maintain her sanity.

I love you forever,
Mom

Thursday, October 02, 2008

Gov. Palin, Stop the Blame Game

The following letter was written by a friend of mine who is just so exasperated by Gov. Palin' that she fired off this letter off to our dinner group. It is reprinted here with her permission. You may often see her commenting on this blog as Harried Mom of Three. I'm trying to convince her to start her own blog.

Dear Ms. Palin:

As a liberal, feminist, woman, I am not upset that John McCain picked you for what your supporters deem my “opposition to a pro-life, spunky, good looking woman.” What I am opposed to is that you are a woman who seems to have gotten to the top for ONLY being pro-life, spunky and good looking and for not having any other substance.

My great hope was that when a woman was a hair’s breath away from the top office of the land that she would actually be able to handle the job. Over the last week, you have proved that you cannot handle even the largest softball of questions from Katie Couric of all people.

How, as an American citizen and a mother, am I supposed to trust that you’ll be able to outwit world leaders when you can’t even outwit America’s journalistic sweetheart?

And, please, please stop talking about journalistic "gotchas." We’re not giving you a pop quiz. We’re trying to figure out what you are made of and whether or not we want to select you for one of the most important job in this country. You should be able to answer questions thrown at you, including naming ONE newspaper from your great state that you might read in a regular basis.

I will admit that Barack Obama has never held an executive position in government--and I’m nervous about that. However, I’m willing to give him some leeway, because he’s proven on a regular basis that he’s thoughtful, intelligent and well read.

There’s a reason that “Joe Six-Pack” shouldn’t be (vice) president and it’s because it’s a hard job filled with lots of responsibilities and it involves making many important decisions.

Stop blaming the media for YOUR inability to answer questions, stop blaming liberal women for your inability to snow these voters into supporting you and stop blaming Gwen Ifill for being biased. If your running mate's campaign didn't know she wrote that book back in August when they agreed to her as moderator of your debate then I'm afraid they read the paper as infrequently as you do.

Love,

K