An Embarrassing Tale

This is pretty much how my hair looks in the morning. Pretty much. In fact, when we watch this Christmas special, my husband has a huge laugh when I do the Heat Miser song and dance bit. I only mention that my hair looks like this in the morning to give you a visual for the following story.

My daughter gets me up at 6:30 yesterday to tell me we have flamingos in our lawn. Huh? So I roll out of bed and stumble to the living room where, lo and behold, I see we have been "flamingo-ed", and several large pink plastic flamingos are in our yard. "One has a note around it!" screams Sally, and before I can rub the sleep out of my eyes, she's out the front door to get the note. Unfortunately, the dog decided to make a break for it, and went out to pee in the front yard.

Now, our dog is a pretty good dog, but he is a rascal. He's not very obedient. Not at all. So, in vain, I call him inside. Nothing doing. I have Sally go get a dog bone - usually works like a charm. "Here Simba! I have a treat for you!" Nothing. So, like a dummy, I follow him - to the neighbors house - where I greet my neighbor, who is fully dressed, on his way to work. "Um, morning" I grumble to him, while I wave the bone at the dog, trying to get him to see it. Thank the Lord he does, and trots home, where I drag myself inside and look for coffee. It's only 6:40 am. I'm cold, and realize I've been outside with no robe, no slippers, no socks. And I have no idea what my hair looks like.

I managed to avoid looking at myself in the mirror for a good thirty or forty minutes before I took a peek. Yep. Heat Miser hair. SOOO embarrassing.

(thanks to Heat Miser's Hot Spot for the pic. funny site. annoying music.)

Sleep Conspiracy Nears An End

I have written a few times about the sleeping habits in this house. I think I came to the bottom of my sleep rope sometime in August of last year - that's when I wrote about The Sleep Conspiracy and our unwanted Family Bed. Sometime after that post, my husband and I came to a radical decision that, for us, was a good one. We admited defeat. We graciously stepped up to the podium and congratulated our opponents. They won the sleep war. We decided, for the sake of everyone's maximum sleep potential, we would not fight the family bed. We would not expect ourselves to be strong and listen to a toddler cry from 1:00 am to 3:00 am. We would give ourselves a break. As long as everyone went to bed, in their own beds, at the appointed bedtime, that was good enough. And so, finally, we slept.

I am happy to announce that, last week, we took down the crib in Samuel's room. He has been sleeping in the bottom bunk of his bunk bed, for naps and for nights, for about a month. The night sleeping was amazing because we didn't factor in the wonderfulness of the older sister. They both sleep in there together (it's a full mattress on the bottom bunk; twin on top), usually all night long. Do you know what that means?!? I am usually very well rested! I am consistantly getting enough sleep! We had our days where he'd get up and have to be put back to bed, sometimes two or three times. We've had a few times where I've stayed in there until he's asleep. But yesterday, I put him down for a nap, and I asked him if he wanted me to sleep with him for a bit. (I was tired, I was fishing for an excuse to nap.) He said, "No, I seep." And he turned over and went to sleep. He's such a good kid!

Of course, there are still bad dreams that need comfort, and we still have to share our bed sometimes with one of them. But please don't ask my husband about that. He's got the evidence to prove it. And I just don't want pictures of me sleeping on the internet. Even if they are cute.

American Idol

Constantine. Not Constantine! Scott should have been voted off. Scott is terrible! Scott has no fun performing! Scott is no Idol! Constantine is great! Constantine is Idol material! And now, Constantine is gone. I actually said, out loud, that I'm not sure if I want to continue to live in a country that cannot be trusted to vote properly for American Idol. Really, people. Simon told you how to vote, and you blew it. I told my husband that I may have to actually start voting. It's either that, or not watch the show. It's just too upsetting. I mean, Constantine? He was one of my favorites! And not only do I miss him already, I have to hear yet another terrible song from Scott next week. At least I have TiVo. I fast forward you, Scott!

Quote for the Day

"A great novel heightens your senses and sensitivity to the complexities of life and of individuals, and prevents you from the self-righteousness that sees morality in fixed formulas about good and evil . . . "
~ Azar Nafisi, Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books

Sally, talking to Grandma Linda. She's discovered the earpiece - uh oh! (She styled her own hairdo here :) ) 

Samuel tries to figure out the earpiece for the phone. 

If I could be . . .

My friend, Jaymarie, tagged me, now I’m it. Being "it" means that I have to answer the question "If you could be ­­­____ …. I choose five titles from the list and answer the question. Then I have to tag two or three others. Normally, I throw any chain letters or email chain letters right in the trash. But this is fun! Maybe because it’s more like a game than a project. Here we go!

1) If I could be a doctor, I’d be doing research on “morning” sickness during pregnancy and find a cure for it. It’s miserable. Something should be done.

2) If I could be a writer, I’d write a book about my grandma, Marjorie, and make up answers to all the questions I have about her life that I never got to ask her.

3) If I could be a musician, I’d dye my hair pink. I’d also get my eyes lasered and my nose pierced. Maybe it’s a good thing I can’t sing, huh?

4) If I could be a professor, I’d encourage my husband to get his doctorate in something so we could sign our Christmas cards, “Dr. and Dr. Chew”. (Oh, vanity!) Also, I would never grade homework as that was the worst part of being a teacher. Grades would be entirely based on three exams and a class participation grade, which would be completely biased and based on whether or not I liked the student. I would make no excuses for the injustice of this system.

5) If I could be a librarian, I would want to work in a university library, preferrably back east somewhere. I’d want to be like Jacqueline Kirby in The Seventh Sinner by Elizabeth Peters.

So there’s my “if I could be’s”. I’ll tag my three original blog friends – Sherry, K Murphy J, and MrsFish. Have fun, ladies! Share the blove!

here's the list:
Scientist - Farmer - Musician - Doctor - Painter - Gardener - Missionary - Chef - Architect - Linguist - Psychologist - Librarian - Athlete - Lawyer - Innkeeper -Professor - Writer - Llama rider - Failed actor gone political - Moonbat
(I think extra credit should be given to anyone who picks "moonbat")

FYI: This meme was started by Ogre about five days ago. Jaymarie tagged me, Pastorius tagged her, Tom tagged him, Oddybobo got him, and Oddybobo was one of the originals tagged by Ogre. So, that makes me level 5! Yet another accomplishment to add to my list!

Gibbous?

Do you like the moon thingie I added to the sidebar? I've found it frightfully entertaining! (yes, a sad commentary, i know) I've learned a new word:
gibbous
Main Entry: gib·bous
Function: adjective
Etymology: Middle English, from Middle French gibbeux, from Late Latin gibbosus humpbacked, from Latin gibbus hump
1 a : marked by convexity or swelling
b of the moon or a planet : seen with more than half but not all of the apparent disk illuminated
2 : having a hump : HUMPBACKED
(thanks, merrian-webster.com!)
Full moon tonight! Aaawwwoooooooo!

Equality

“I'm interested in how women can support a spiritual leader who does not believe that women are the equals of men.”

I got the above comment to my pope post. Great question! I was going to comment back, but I got to typing and kept going and going, so decided to put it as a new post. Then, after I wrote this, I had to wait and make sure I really wanted to post this. I do. So, if you’re interested, here’s what I think.

I agree with him. You may think this is a discredit to women everywhere, or a discredit to women, but let me finish. Men and women are very different. And, in some respects, women are better than men. Need a shoulder to cry on? A woman listens better. Need four things done at once? Ask a woman. If your child ever gets lost, ask them to look for another mom. (child molesters have been known to impersonate police officers. Sick, huh?) And want to procreate? You need a woman. At the same time, men are sometimes better than women. Need something heavy moved? You’ll ask a man. Need some advice that is practical and without feeling? Ask a man – he can separate the two. (Which is why, I think, that God wants men running the church. Most women think with their feelings. It’s true.) Want to procreate? You’ll need a man for that, too. Now, before you all slam me with a dozen comments, I know that those are blatant generalizations, and there are some men that listen well and can multi-task, and there are probably some women that are stronger than my husband, but IN GENERAL, men and women are very different. And since “equal” means “same”, I’d have to agree with the statement that men and women are not equal.

Of course, that’s all beside the point, because the point is that the Bible is very clear that a man should be leading the church. (See 1 Timothy 2 and 3, esp 2:11) I raged against this verse for awhile, and I thought it unfair and unjust. Then I grew up and saw the wisdom behind it. The Catholic Church takes a strong stance when it comes to verses like this. However, I don’t think they mean to say that women are inferior to men. (Maybe I’m wrong here – I’m not well-versed in Catholic theology.) I don’t think they mean to say that women are spiritually inferior to men, either. (again, maybe they do) I do know that I do not interpret these verses in that manner. They refer to position in the church, not personal value. (On a personal note, the church I currently attend has several women on staff, and some of them have titles of “minister” or “pastor”. However, these wonderful ladies do not lead our church. They are not the “head pastor”. I don’t think I could attend a church where the head pastor was a woman. I just couldn’t do it. I really can’t explain why. I just couldn’t.)

And I have to add this little gem, too, because my husband and I have had many a conversation on it. The Bible says that the husband is to be the head of the household, and the wife should submit to him. (Ephesians 5:22; Colossians 3:18) It also says that the husband should treat his wife as Christ treated the church. (Ephesians 5:25-28) Do you understand what that means? Christ died for the church. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for the church. Wouldn’t you want to submit to someone who would do anything for you? Someone who is commanded to sacrifice even his life for you? (I’ll never forget a conversation I had with the dean of Biola University after I had been married for about a month. He asked me, with all sincerity, if my husband was treating me as Christ treated the church. And the way he asked me, and the way he listened to my answer, I felt like he would find my husband and set him straight if my answer was not an emphatic “yes”. It made me feel so special, so cared for; his concern still moves me.) Practically speaking, I love the words of wisdom from an infamous Greek mom: “The man is the head, but the woman, she is the neck. She turns the head.” I’ve also heard this little gem, but I don’t remember where: “The man is the head of the household, but the woman sets the tone of the family.” We all have our jobs to do. We are all equipped to do our specific task. When we try and do the job we are not equipped for, we are not successful or happy.

Marriage. Did I really get that far from the pope question? Back to the pope thing . . .

As far as Catholicism goes, there are some Catholic beliefs and practices that I totally disagree with and do not practice. I do not pray to Mary or any of the saints. I do not go to a priest or pastor for confession. I do not believe that the bread and the wine actually become the body and blood of our Savior. And I have used birth control since I was married. However, the Pope and the Catholic Church are important to me because they are following the same God that I am. They believe in the Bible as truth and defend its principles. The Pope is an important religious leader in the world. I never thought about him too much because he’s always been John Paul II, a well-traveled man who, in my mind, was a strong defender of the sanctity of human life. Now, that the position was open to a new man, I suddenly became aware of what would happen to our world if a liberal pope led the church. Can you imagine how the morality of the world would slide if one of the most conservative religions started to become liberal? Well, just think about it. It would be like if that one friend in junior high school, you know, the kid who never did anything wrong, it would be like that kid starting to swear all the time. If the goodie-two-shoes of the class is swearing all the time, what are the rebels going to do to shock people?

Anyways, there’s my two cents. I don’t obey the Pope, I don’t agree with everything he stands for, but I respect him and occasionally I’ll pray for him. I think I can say the same thing about our President. (even when he was Clinton!)

All right. I’ll stand back and let the comments fly. As always, feel free to disagree with me. Just be kind. I may seem tough and opinionated, but I take your words to heart.

Triple Time Steps

When I took a leave of absence from my teaching position to be a stay-at-home mom, I didn’t really know that I would still be here six years later. I had an inkling – I suspected it would be this way – and I am truly thankful for this time with my kids. However, staying at home tends to turn your brain to mush unless you are proactive at doing things that make you think.

At first, I was terrible at this. The sleep deprivation didn’t help. I couldn’t think well at all. So I baked. And I baked. And my DH, who eats on the Atkins plan, begged me to stop. I joined a few mom’s groups. I started to do some creative hobbies – cross-stitch, various craft projects, that thing. And I’ve always been a reader. I read a little bit every day.

Then I discovered the crosswords. They became a passion for awhile. I still do the Monday ones every week. They reveal knowledge that I never knew I had - for example, how did I know that "toward shelter" was alee (55 across)? Or that Reagan's Secretary of State was Alexander Haig (29 across)? Or that another word for meadow is lea (57 down)? It's a mystery. I also love the fact that I can start the crossword, only get about half way finished, put it down for a few hours, and come back and finish it effortlessly. My brain works on it subconsciously. This has probably happened to you - you are trying to remember something, usually a name, and the more you think about it, the more you can't remember it. So you give up and go do something else, and pop! There it is, in your head all the time. (Read more about this here.) They also force me to do some research. If there is a clue I don't know, like a name or a place, I look for the answer on the internet. Sometimes I'll know the first two or three letters of a word, so I'll read through the dictionary (yes, a real dictionary) and see if I can find it. I haven't done research like this since my second year of college! It's a good skill, one that I'm sure I'll be thankful that I've kept sharp. I like the rhythm of a crossword puzzle, how the words fit together and the patterns emerge.

I was introduced to the blog world about a year ago. Blogging is great brain exercise, composing my own thoughts into comprehensive sentences (sometimes), reading other people’s thoughts on a variety of subjects, getting into dialogue and sometimes into trouble. It’s been good for me. I've been challenging myself, too, with learning html (to put the cool quotes and lists on the sidebar) and doing more photography.

However, it occurred to me that I should find a hobby that engages my mind and my body. I tried walking, but that didn’t work. I couldn’t navigate the walkman and the stroller at the same time. Perhaps with more effort, I could get the hang of it. But I gave up. We have an exercise bike, but doing that and watching TV or reading doesn’t do it for me.

So I started tapping again. I took tap dance lessons for about two years before Sally was born. I never took dance lessons before, unless you count ballroom dancing, which I don’t. At first, I was awful. Luckily, it was a beginning class and nobody cared that I was awful. But I loved it from the start, and I got better. And then, just as my tap shoes were starting to make the right noises, I got pregnant and starting throwing up all the time. Tap was at the end of my to-do list. Now, some six years later, I’m back. I’m in a new class, with a different teacher and a new set of friends, and I still love to tap. This month, I’ve learned the triple time step. I’m quite proud of myself. It might mean little to you, especially if you don’t know what a triple time step is. Of course, even if you do know what it is, you may think I’m making a big deal out of a small thing. I don’t care. It’s a big deal to me! I can do the triple! Hooray for me!

The other really cool thing I love about tap is that my calf dent is back. I’ll have to post a picture, because it is now my favorite feature. I’ll come home after tap class, stand up on my toes, pull up my pant leg, and say to my husband, “Just look at that calf, will you? It’s got a DENT!” He’s such a love, he just smiles and tells me, yes dear, it’s just great.

Quote for the Day

"Mystery is my mistress; I must heed her sweet call."
~Velma in "Scooby Doo 2: Monsters Unleashed"

New Pope

God Bless Pope Benedict XVI!

Conclave

It's strange, since I'm not Catholic, but I have been aware all this morning that they are choosing a new Pope today. I even came home and lit two candles to remind me to pray, one for conclave, and one for Daniella, my good friend's little niece, born on Saturday and facing many complications. It's so strange to me, because I almost never light a candle as a prayer reminder, but I did it today almost without thinking.

Conversations with Sally

Sally: "Mom, I'm going to put a bull in your eye!"
Me: "What?! Why would you do that? Do you know what a bull's eye is?"
Sally: "Yes, that's a horse."
Me: "No . . "
Sally: " 'Run like the wind, Bullseye!' "
Me: "OK, yes, that is the horse's name in Toy Story. But a bull's eye -"
Sally: "Is a cow's eye!"
Me: "Well, that too, but it's also when you hit the middle circle of a target. You know what a target is?"
Sally: "Yea, the store where we get the icees and popcorn."
Me: "Yes, and a target is the red circles, the small one with the bigger ones around it. And a bull's eye is when you hit the middle circle."
Sally: "Hit it with your fist?" (she throws a punch in the air)
Me: "No, with a dart."
Sally: "You throw dirt on it?!?"
Me: "No, a dart. It's a needle with a holder on the end."
Sally: "Oh, and the boys use it and then they pull them off and throw like this." (she demonstrates - correctly)
Me: "Yes. So don't put a bull in my eye."
Sally: laughs at me

Newspaper Interview

I was interviewed in the Orange County Register this week, and the article is in today's paper. You can read it here. (You may need to register to see the article, but it's free to register. Or, if you have your own paper, it's in the Health and Family section, page 3.)

Samuel knows how to use chopsticks! This was at a mongolian bbq place on Monday night, taken with Stuart's phone! He taught himself - watched Sally using them, and then did it! Noodles were everywhere, of course. 

Quote for the Day

"Astonishing as it may be, some people do lead satisfying, productive lives while rings of microorganisms blacken their bathtubs." ~ Amy Alkon, advice goddess, responding to the clean boyfriend who is afraid to marry his messy girlfriend (orange county register, 11 april 05)

Make Your Own Comic Strip

This one's for KMJ. I'm reading the paper this morning and found this article about a website where you can make your own comics. And you can read and vote on some that others made. Fun stuff!

Samuel standing by the gate to the pool. The gate is close to the shallow end and the spa. I'm so thankful that it will be many, many years before he'll be tall enough to reach the latch. 

The safety fence. It's five feet high and quad stitched all around. We felt the extra strength was necessary . . . you have met our son? 

Conversations with my nephew

I remembered this cute story this morning, and since my mom and my sister don't blog (yet), I'll share it here. On a trip to visit their grandkids, my mom was sitting with my nephew, Evan, and telling him how much she loved him.
Mom: "I love you to the moon and back again."
Evan: "I love you to the motorhome and back again."

Shower Games

I'm not really into the bridal shower/baby shower games, but I went to a baby shower this past weekend (great shower, by the way, big thanks to Joelle and her friends - the avocado and bacon sandwiches rocked!) and played the baby food game. You know, the one where you take the labels off and guess what it is. Well, they let us smell and taste the baby food, and most of the non-moms were totally grossed out by that. But, surviving two babies, I did the taste test, and aced the game. I even got the "butternut squash" and the "chicken dinner with vegetables". That's right, I am mom, hear me roar! I was happy all day.

The Grocery Game Update

Another week, another batch of coupons. The thrill is starting to wear off, but I'm still saving lots. I'm starting to get better at spotting the real bargain and waiting if the deal isn't as good as it could be. Experience. Also it's nice that there is room in my brain to remember how much things should cost - when I was teaching, I could barely remember if we had enough toilet paper. And when the kids were babies, I couldn't remember anything at all. Another thing I did different this week is to go to a nicer Ralphs. The one by my house is lousy, and they are always out of stuff, and I don't want to mess with the rainchecks. I've heard there is an even nicer one on the other side of town, so I think I'll try different ones for awhile.

Sleeping Angels

I just came from the bedrooms of the kids, where I watched them sleep. So precious. So sweet. So quiet. Best time of day.

Name that tree! Any ideas? We don't know what it is! Help! 

We are trying to figure out what kind of tree we have here. Anyone? It didn't get these fruit (?)last summer, but it's covered with them now. 

Another view. (the white dots are salt pebbles) 

We got the cement poured today! :) Now it's fence time and then plaster and then water! 

"I can't say that word."

(I have hesitated to share this story, because it paints me in such a bad light, but it is so very funny that I must tell it here. Please forgive me, and don't be afraid to call here!)
On Monday, I had a pretty hectic afternoon. For some reason, lots and lots of people called me that day. I was trying to get some paperwork done, pay the bills, balance the checkbook, talk to the pool people, and all the while watch two kids and start dinner. It was hectic. After about four calls in less than an hour, the phone rings, and I mutter under my breath, "It's probably your father again . . . " and it was. We talked for a few minutes and I probably wasn't very nice. Did I mention that Samuel pooped five or six times this day? I'm not kidding - three times before 10:00 am!!! I keep telling Stuart that he'll never grow if he can't stop pooping so much. But I digress . . . So I get the whole chicken out and start cleaning it, and I've got the gizzards out (hate the gizzards) and I have my hand inside the bird, and the phone rings again. Exasperated, I ask Sally to get it. "Hello? Oh hi Daddy! You'd better stop calling here. Mom's really mad at you. She . . . I . . . I can't even say the word." I frantically search my mind for any muttered swear words, and can't find ANY. By the time I get my hands washed and sheepishly pick up the phone, he's laughing at me and the first thing I say is, "I didn't swear at her, I swear!" It's a good thing he loves me so much. I felt like such a jerk. Some days are better than others, huh?

The Grocery Game Update

I'm still at it, playing the game. I think I'm winning, too, but I have to spend some time with Quicken (that's our checkbook program) to see how much I'm really saving. Anyway, on Sunday night, I went shopping. I skipped Easter week, so supplies were running low. I think I went a bit overboard. My shopping basket was full - FULL! Haven't done that in awhile. I spent $129 and saved $110! Since some of you have expressed an interest in this, here's what I got for that price: 3 boxes of cereal, 2 whole chickens, 1 gallon of whole milk, 2 coffee creamers, 1 carton of orange juice, 1 lb of coffee beans, 10 handisnacks (cheese & crackers), 2 boxes of mac & cheese, 1 box of granola bars, 3 boxes of kleenex, 1 jumbo pack of toilet paper, 1 box of tampons, 3 large apples, 1 head of lettuce, 2 packs of string cheese, 1 block of cheese, 8 high protein/low carb meal bars, 2 boxes of milkbones for the dog, 2 tictacs, 2 rolls of paper towels, 1 box of dishwasher tabs, 2 bottles of moisturizer, 3 bottles of lotion, 1 large refill bottle of hand soap, 1 bottle of fantastic cleaner, 3 bottles of (pantene) conditioner, 2 bottles of lawrys meat marinade, 3 bars of soap, 2 packs of cleaning cloths, and for FREE I got a bottle of shampoo, body wash, three tubes of toothpaste, hair gel, a small bottle of vitamin C, and two bottles of 7up. That's alot, huh?! Now, I don't really -need- all that lotion and toothpaste, but I'm stocking up because they won't be on sale for 10-12 weeks, and now that I've started this, I'll never pay full price on those items again. In fact, since I've started, I haven't spent more than $1 on any dental item or cereal box. Also, I'll probably never run out of these things, which is a very nice feeling. And one more thing - I'll always get the free stuff, because I can save them up and donate them at Christmas time to various charities, esp. canned goods and the toothpaste. I'm pretty proud of myself. (Can't you tell?!) I still go to Costco for most of our meat, and to Albertsons or another store for produce, because I don't like Ralphs produce. All in all, it's worth my time and effort, and I'd recommend doing it if you have the time. One more thing - I must go shopping on Sunday - there were only 3 heads of lettuce left, and the body wash and 7up was running very low. If I had waited until Monday, they would probably be sold out. That's the only bad thing - I have to cut and sort coupons and shop all on Sunday, an already full day for us. Ah well, if I'm saving $300-400 a month, it's worth it!

The spa tile looks lovely in the morning sun. The workers did a really nice job for us. 

Samuel, Sally, and Simba. We have had Simba about seven years now, and he has been called Samson, Sam, Sambo, Dog, and Simba. Now that we have Samuel, we try and stick to Simba :) Despite the scary red eye/green eye in this photo, he really is a good dog. 

The Plastic Surgery Rant

I have naturally curly hair. From the time I realized I was a girl to my teenage years, I yearned for straight hair. I grew my hair long to pull out the curl, I spent hours blowdyring it straight. I think I may have even done one of those straight perm things. It took me many years and many "bad hair days" to learn that my hair is quite pretty curly. Indeed, it is perhaps my favorite feature, my red curly hair. And if I don't fight it, but let it curl up, it looks good. If I spend an hour on it, it doesn't look right. Even when I use a straight iron, it's just not *me*. God gave me curly hair, and He loves me that way. This is exactly the way I feel about cosmetic plastic surgery. Let me start my rant with a disclaimer: I am not talking about restorative plastic surgery after a horrible accident, I am not talking about plastic surgery to fix a birth defect, and I am not even talking about a breast reduction to stop backache (or reconstruction after a masectomy). I am talking about plastic surgery like, oh, I nursed one baby and I'm a little saggy, so I need new boobs - let's put them on the credit card since we really can't afford it. Or oh, my tummy is poochy because I had two babies, and I don't look fantastic in my bikini, so let's go for some surgery. Or even, oh my, I'm 45, and I look 42, and we just can't have that, so let's do some facelift surgery. That's what I'm talking about, and this type of thinking makes me crazy. Did you ever see "The Swan"? It was the beauty pagent on TV where these poor women started out with a few rounds of surgery, followed by a few trips to the dentist for perfect white teeth, followed by some counseling and some trips to the gym. Honestly, they didn't look too bad to me. Most of them needed some rest, a good haircut, and some undereye concealer. Really. Here's what really bothered me: the woman who had one baby - baby! - who left her for THREE MONTHS so she could look prettier and get her stretch marks taken care of. Come on! She'll never get that time with her baby back. And she should be grateful for those stretch marks. I know plenty of infertle women who would love to have some stretch marks and saggy boobs if they came with a baby. Why have we forgotten our blessings? Life leaves marks on your body - who says that stretch marks are ugly? Our media? Our society that also says it's ok to starve someone who has been brain-damaged? (you know I had to work that in there) And who says that boobs have to be big to be sexy? And that thin is attractive and fat is not? To all these - and more - I say enough! ENOUGH! Stop encouraging this idea that women should starve themselves and then put saliene balloons under their skin to be beautiful! Me, I'd rather be able to eat, and spare me the surgery. Besides, as I often tell my daughter, it doesn't matter what you look like, if you are not kind to people then you are not attractive. So what is attractive? I'm glad you asked! Eyes - sparkly, crinkly (yes, that means wrinkly) with a touch of mischief eyes. A quick smile. Someone who knows how to laugh properly - and laughs often. Someone who is well-read and articulate - that's a desirable quality, and one you can't buy at a doctor's office. Most women would say that a man holding a baby just melts their heart. Why? Because a man who makes a committment to a woman, who wants to be a father, who is a faithful husband and daddy, that is very very attractive. Someone who is kind to animals and strangers. Can you deny it? These are the important parts of people. Who do you always invite to your party? The thinnest girl with the biggest bra size? Or the friend who is so much fun to hang out with and who always makes you laugh? I guess what makes me so disgusted with all this elective surgery is that it puts too much value on looks, which don't really matter, and the media is telling people that if you look a certain way, then you'll find happiness and friendship and love. It just isn't true. Happiness has very little to do with what a person looks like, and has everything to do with how a person thinks and feels. And personally, I'd rather be happy and have my body that has the marks of motherhood and stress and laugh lines and worry lines and sometimes some dark circles under my eyes from being up with one of my kids, I wouldn't trade one day of that for a "perfect" body. Nope, not one day. I'd even go so far as to say that I'm thankful for my stretch marks because they came as a result of having two wonderful babies, who have changed my life forever and who I love with my whole being. I have several small scars on my stomach, and I'm even thankful for them, and for the doctor who removed my gall bladder, because it was causing me so much pain. I'm thankful to have health insurance and to live in a country that such a surgery could be performed with such a small scar, to tell you the truth. I have a finger (pinkie, right hand) that is bent and lumpy from a childhood injury (playing leapfrog with my sister - bent it back too far) and I'm even thankful for THAT, just because it has been with me for so long and it's a reminder of a lovely childhood and playing outdoors with my sister. It's a part of me. Why would I change that?
PS - Thanks, Jaymarie, for waiting so long for my rant, and for encouraging me to get it out there. I treasure our friendship.
'Nother PS - Disagree with me? Bring it on! Just put your name on your comments please!