Advice for Politicians
I don’t outwardly discuss politics here, mostly because I’d rather spare myself the hate mail and seedy comments that the political talk would surely draw. But on this election night, I have something to say that I’m sure everyone can agree upon, whether you bleed blue, red, or something in between.
While watching the coverage tonight, the news reported that Hilary Clinton spent over $29 million on her campaign. I’m not in NY, but if NY is anything like my state, I’m sure a lot of that money went towards stupid political ads that go something like this:
Joe Schmo doesn’t deserve your vote. Joe Schmo eats babies for breakfast and the elderly for dinner. No seriously, with a side of ketchup, he devours them. He also hates kittens and tries to run over puppies whenever he takes to the road.
Wouldn’t it be amazing if all that money went towards something useful? Maybe something like compensating our troops the way they should be, maybe using it towards medical research that could lead to cures for horrible diseases, etc. etc. etc. Let’s be honest here. How many people are actually swayed by the ridiculous ads on TV? One ad that I saw frequently said that X candidate "would vote to eliminate birth control in all 50 states, even for married couples." I mean, COME ON already. That’s not true; it’s just stupid.
So, here’s some advice for getting elected next time around:
- Instead of telling us all the crappy things your opponent has done, tell us something YOU have done or will do.
- Don’t let Bill Clinton, Rudy Giuliani, Hilary Clinton, Tom Ridge, Muhammad Ali, Osama Bin Laden, whoever, record messages and call my phone number with them daily, hourly sometimes. The minute I hear them, I hang up as I’m sure everyone else does. Well, except for maybe a few elderly people who actually think Bill Clinton is calling them and get all excited about it until they realize that, Gee, he’s being awfully rude to me, what with his not letting me have a turn to talk and all.
- If you must call, then at least look at the clock. Calls after the polls have closed are a waste of time, and are infuriating. Calls when my baby is sleeping are also very bothersome.
- When the newspaper asks you questions for the voter’s guide, answer them. If you don’t respond, it looks like you don’t care, and then why should anyone care to vote for you?
- Don’t send me glossy junk mail telling me all the crappy things your opponent has done. If you really feel the need to send mail, send out one simple letter listing all the things you have done or will do. How about a resume? You are trying to get a job right? If I walked into an interview with glossy handouts telling you what’s wrong with all the other people you’re thinking about hiring, you’d walk me out the door, right? Don’t make the same mistake.
- Be above it all. Sure, it’s tempting to lash out when someone speaks untruths about you. But show that you’re the better person. Take the high road. If your opponent comes out and says things that aren’t true, correct them in a productive matter. See #5.
- Instead of sending out pathetic looking college kids that go around door-to-door handing out materials, get off your bum and get out there yourself. Voters want to hear from you. They want to ask you questions when they’re sure there’s not an iron clad script in the vicinity. Visit restaurants, malls, anywhere where you can get out there and show that you’re a normal person, not just some awkward troll with bad hair.
- If you get elected to office and want to be elected again, do something. Don’t just sit there and twiddle your thumbs or pick your nose. If you’re going to talk the talk, then walk the walk.
- What happens in our state and even in our country is not the fault of the President of the United States. There are many elected officials who make decisions, and voters who put them there. We do not live in a dictatorship. So, when your entire campaign to be elected has to do with the fact that you hate the President, it’s desperate and pathetic. Stand on what YOU have done or vow to do, not what someone else has or hasn’t done.
- When you get in office, remember that you will only continue to remain there if you hold up your end of the bargain.
Enjoy the silence from your phones tomorrow. I know I will.
On the mend but still annoyed
It is no secret that the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends nursing until your baby is at least 12 months old. An article came out recently in diabetes literature, citing that breast milk is really the best thing for your baby and that cows milk should be avoided until the age of two. Breastfeeding helps reduce the incidence of diabetes in both Mom’s and babies. With the strong history of diabetes in my family, and considering the fact that I had gestational diabetes while pregnant this last time, I felt that it was my duty to nurse this baby as long as I could. Although I started the weaning process at 10 months, I nursed Big I until she was 14.5 months old and when she stopped nursing it was so gradual that she never even missed it. It was the best thing for both of us.
Lil C recently turned a year old and I am still nursing her. I am in the process of weaning her, but weaning to me, is not something you do cold turkey. That is not beneficial for either of us. It’s a very gradual process in this household and I appreciate it greatly when people mind their own business about it. A popular chant for abortion rights activists is "My Mind, My Body, My Choice" and I feel that saying applies even more so to breastfeeding a baby. I never imagined in a million years, that a doctor or physician’s assistant of all people would be so unsupportive of my decision about nursing and how long to continue nursing.
After toughing it out all last week with body aches and a fever on and off, I finally made an appointment with my doctor’s office and of course could only get an appointment with a Physician’s Assistant. I’ve seen her before and it always felt like she was rushing me out the door. Friday was no exception. We ran through the gamut of my symptoms and she determined that I had strep throat. I told her I would need a medication compatible with nursing. She asked how old my baby was, and I told her that she is 12 months old. I saw the reaction, subtle but definitely there and judgmental. She left the room to go consult on what she should prescribe.
She came back a few minutes later with a prescription for Levaquin. Levaquin is what they put my husband on after he had abdominal surgery. It is a strong antibiotic and a bit of an overkill for a strep throat. "Here you go" she said handing me the prescription. "Oh, and you’ll have to pump and dump for seven days." Lil C has not ever taken a bottle. She refuses, and pumping is not exactly easy for me either. It’s not like I have a freezer full of back-ups.
"That’s not going to work," I told her. "I need something safe for nursing. I’m in the process of weaning her and I’m not going to do it like this." She responded with "Well, I nursed my daughter for eight months. I know it’s hard, but there’s nothing else we can give you." "There has to be something," I retorted. "Nope, sorry. Pump and dump for seven days or just wean her now." I told her I would just not take the drug. She said, "Well, then it will go to your heart and kidneys." I was finding it very hard to believe that a mother who also nursed her child wouldn’t be more sympathetic.
I left the doctor’s office and was a mess. What was I going to do? I got home and consulted the internet. I found resources from The Breastfeeding Network that listed at least ten antibiotics safe for nursing. I called the office and left a voice mail saying that I wanted my prescription changed to one of the drugs I found on the list that I had success with before. The nurse called me back and said, "I talked to (the PA) and she said she already discussed this with you. She prescribed the one drug that is safe." "Levaquin is not safe," I said, "and she told me so." "Oh," said the nurse. It was obvious that they were not taking my request seriously. Can you imagine if I had taken the nurse at her word and taken an unsafe drug while nursing?
I repeated my request for the different drug and told them to call it in for me. They said they would call it in but that it was still not compatible with nursing. She threw out a "Well, WE’RE trying to do what’s best for your child". "Really?" I said. "Well if that were the case, then you would know that breast milk is what’s best for my child, and weaning her cold turkey is not."
I called my daughter’s pediatrician and left a message telling them my dilemma. Within a half hour, the nurse from the doctor’s office called me back and left me a message (I was at the pharmacy). The medication I requested, along with the other nine or so I had found, were completely safe with nursing. She told me things to watch for in Lil C in case of a bad reaction, but stressed that the drug I had requested was safe.
While at the pharmacy, I asked the pharmacist his opinion. He told me the drug was safe as well and said it was fine to take it and continue nursing as usual. I am nursing her so infrequently now that I could time the drug so that there would be many hours before I had to nurse Lil C again.
So, my question is this: If I could go on the internet and find reliable information including the package insert for the drug that says it is safe for nursing; if my pediatrician could tell me it was safe; if the pharmacist could tell me it was safe. . . then why couldn’t my doctor’s office?
I have decided to switch primary care physicians because if they are incapable of helping a nursing mother out, then I am incapable of giving them $25 every time I need to see a physician’s assistant who has less schooling than I have. Although she didn’t come right out and say it, there was an obvious judgment being made about my decision to wean my 12-month old daughter gradually, and that is just one of the problems that nursing mothers face every day. Until now, I had never really experienced this, and I hope to never experience it again.
A Mom who SHOULD feel guilty and more. . .
Filed under: 100 Things and Other Stuff, Things that get my gi all in a bunch
I am not the best parent in the world. I don’t always keep my cool. As far as I’m concerned, anyone who says they are always a picture perfect parent who never starts to lose it, is a big fat liar. However, there are some people who never should have had children.
I play tennis during the summer with a group of women. We play doubles for a couple hours every week and have a lot of fun. Tonight we were playing and while I was about to receive a serve, I heard crying. Loud crying. Hysterical crying. I glanced in the direction it was coming from and saw a little boy who was definitely no more than two years of age (and that’s being generous). He was a really little guy and was toddling along with the uncertainty of a newish walker, and was screaming hysterically with his little arms in the air. I finished playing the point thinking that I must be wrong; a parent must be nearby. The point ended and I instinctively starting walking towards the little boy. He was three tennis courts away from me, just outside of the fence standing in a grassy area right by the parking lot. . . Right beside the parking lot where teenagers regularly go driving about 50 mph, radio blaring as they pass by the courts. I yelled to the other women I was playing with, "Have any of you seen a parent with that little boy?" They all shook their heads, "No."
I started running. I crossed behind the men who were playing beside us and ran behind the men who were playing beside them. I was about at the gate. The little toddler was still screaming hysterically. He was still a baby. As I got closer I realized he couldn’t yet be two. Just as I was about to reach the gate and make the final run to the distressed child, a woman in a mini-van, at LEAST six cars away from where the little boy was standing BY HIMSELF, just TWO FEET from the crowded parking lot, emerges from the van and screams at this child, "I TOLD YOU TO COME HERE!"
She had apparently seen me running to the child’s aid and sprinted her fat ass out of the van quickly enough to beat me to him. All of the tennis had stopped on the courts. Everyone was watching. She quickly put him in the van and drove away. I highly doubt he was properly restrained in a car seat.
When I wrote a while back about having an urge to use my karate to teach some teenage boys a lesson after almost killing me and Lil C by driving too fast around a dangerous curve, I received warnings and words of caution. I may get them now, but I seriously wanted to POUND this woman. If she hadn’t driven away as fast as she did in her dark minivan, I would have definitely had some strong words for her. She better seriously hope she does not see me again.
The thing is this: every mother (and father) has a day like that. Every mother has one of those days where you just feel ready to crack. Every mother has been in a situation where "it’s time to go" and your little one has a completely different idea. Every mother is going to have a day when their child is having an absolute tantrum and you just can’t deal anymore.
The difference between a good mother and a bad one is that good ones know how to deal with this situation. If your child is still in a crib, you place the child calmly in the crib with a few of his/her favorite toys and walk away and collect yourself. If your child is older, you send them to their room, where they are safe and you will have a moment or two to yourself. Who among mothers hasn’t been there? We all have and if you say that you haven’t, I’ll say it again: you are a big far liar, or your child isn’t old enough to really test you yet, or you don’t spend enough time with your kids. It happens to the best of us.
Bad mothers, like the one tonight, have days like this and deal with them in a ridiculous way that could potentially cause harm to their child. I get it that the child did not want to leave the park; but when your child is this small, you pick him/her up and put them in their car seat, kicking and screaming, whatever. If you have to carry them on your side, head out the front, feet out the back, you do so. You DO NOT leave your child unattended near a busy, crowded PARKING LOT of all places. I get the whole, "I’m leaving. . . " thing. I would be lying if I said I never did this. Would I EVER do this in a parking lot? NO WAY! It works in the Disney Store; it works at amusement parks, but I would NEVER do this in a parking lot and I would NEVER let myself be as far away as that woman was from her son. I would NEVER try this technique with a child as young as that little boy.
He was not even old enough to understand what she was doing. There is no way he could have possibly comprehended that he was supposed to follow. He probably didn’t even see her, because she was THAT. FAR. AWAY.
The worst part of this whole night is knowing that little boy went home with THAT woman. I can only hope that she got herself together by the time they arrived home.
I often feel like I could be a better Mom. I think that I should take my kids to the park more, or to the pool more, or come up with new things to do more frequently. Every Mom has "Mom Guilt" and it’s usually there unnecessarily.
If that mother has "Mom Guilt" she deserves it 100%. She should be ashamed of herself.
I just had to get that off my chest.
(Deep exhale)
And on to happier things. . .
Yep, you saw it here. I’m just getting all famous and stuff. Now I’m being "interviewed". I’m special, what can I say. I wish that button said, "Hey Girls and Guys" because I know I have a LOT of male readers; and I love all my readers dearly regardless of what type of equipment you have. But, if you just can’t get enough of me today, you can click on that happy looking chick and check out my interview. After you check out the interview for Black Belt Mama, you can also read the interview from Birth Stories, which has also been listed on the site. That interview can be found here.
And speaking of not being able to get enough of me. . . my black octagonal sai are IN! They have finally arrived, which means a video of yours truly trying to do justice to Kyan No Sai may be just around the corner. I said "MAY BE." I feel like I should let all my fellow karate-ka’s know I’m legit; but at the same time, I would much rather make you laugh and get enjoyment from my words, my writing. Posting a video that can be picked apart by all (and potentially laughed at), especially since I’ve been "found out" is a little intimidating. So, I will post a video of Kyan No Sai under these conditions:
- After video is shot, if wrinkles are highly visible-the video is getting tossed.
- If I’m having a bad hair day-the video is getting tossed.
- If I start talking to myself during the kata-the video is getting tossed.
- If my husband starts laughing while filming the kata-the video is getting tossed.
Can you deal with these conditions? Can you follow your mother’s advice if I post a video and "If you don’t have something nice to say, keep it to yourself"? You think about it, and I will too. . . maybe. . .
You know what else has arrived? Yep, that’s right. . .
Lil C’s baby gi is here, which means that a new picture is forth-coming. I think I might wait until after testing though, in September. Maybe Big I will have another green stripe, and I just might be flaunting the fall’s must have color and accessory for any karate-ka. . . brown belt.
Green Acres, my butt
There’s nothing like a Home Owner’s Association meeting to make you want to sell your house, and move to the middle of a field somewhere with at least 10 miles to the front, back and either side of you. We’ve got some issues people. We’ve got some issues.
My husband dreads the meetings that happen twice a year. He dreads them because he knows that I will be full of tirades for the next several days, possibly weeks. He knows I’ll be bringing up meetings from the past, reading into people’s comments and making myself and therefore him utterly miserable for days. It always happens. It’s inevitable.
Let me start by saying that we have a beautiful back yard. The previous owner hired someone to plant a perennial garden and it is gorgeous. It is set up so one thing blooms and as that plant goes dormant the next one stands up to take the stage. We have butterfly bushes, astilbee plants, lavendar, oregano, black-eyed susans, clematis and that just names a few of our gardens residents.
What we also have occassionally is trash and creeping weedy vines because our neighbor to the one side does not take care of her yard at all, as in: likes the look of foot high weeds, prefers dumping trash items onto her pathetic excuse for a patio, believes old newspapers in the backyard left in stacks two feet high make great fertilizer (For what? The weeds?), and acts completely clueless as to how any of this could bother anyone. It’s annoying.
So after his initial rant about the shape of her yard, our 80-something year old treasurer who has too much time on his hands and therefore has appointed himself Inspector General of all things yard, makes a remark about our garden being "overgrown." My husband glared and refused to nod in acknowledgement. I huffed, and worked my eyes into evil slits of terror and sat there stewing. The only comments we have ever heard about our garden is that it is beautiful. And it is.
Our garden is NOT overgrown. Sure, our burning bushes may be getting large, but we like them that way because they block the view of the mess that is next door. Our neighbor on the other side begs us not to trim back our butterfly bush because it cascades onto their yard so beautifully and provides at least three butterflies to watch at any given time. We have never heard a complaint.
So, I arrive home and go out to inspect my garden. I pulled a couple weeds and while out there another neighbor comes down to "talk". I asked her to please point out exactly what about my garden is so offensive and she makes lots of passive/aggressive statements about "not having time when you have two young kids," etc. These are the type of people who trim all their bushes into little balls. We are not those people. This is the view from my patio.
It’s beautiful, is it not? I should warn you here that the answer I’m looking for is, "Yes BBM, your garden is beautiful. No, no. It’s not overgrown at all." Something like an adapted "Mary Mary, Quite Contrary" as in:
Black Belt Mama, no need for drama
How does your garden grow?
With astilbee and oregano
And neighbors who mind their OWN (business, that is.)
So as I’m standing there, with a handful of weeds, minding my own (business that is), another one of my neighbor’s dogs comes CHARGING out of NOWHERE and jumps on me, then my husband (who is holding Lil C), then my neighbor, and then her husband.
I am NOT a dog person. I am especially not a dog person when the dog happens to be a full grown full breed German Shepard. I am really not a dog person when this German Shepard is one and the same German Shepard who knocked down Big I while sledding in the winter and jumped all over her as I watched and screamed with horror from the top floor of my house while holding Lil C, imagining that the dog was eating her face.
The dog wasn’t eating her face, THANK GOD. It was instead "playing" with her or so it’s owner said. It knocked her down and jumped all over her as she lay in the snow unable to get up, kicking, screaming, and crying as my husband ran towards her and eventually got the dog away from her. It was terrifying.
We have leash laws in these parts and I think that all dog owners should take them seriously. If you want to have a dog and let it run all over your yard that’s fine, but you damn well better have a fence or a tie-up. If you don’t, then you better be living in the place I described in the first paragraph. Close quarters do not make for happy neighbors when there are unleashed dogs. I should have reported her then. I didn’t because I try to be nice like that.
A few weeks ago when there were two dogs in my yard, I didn’t do anything then either. The girls were not outside at the time. The dogs did not jump up on my husband. They made a drive by, so to speak and left.
Tonight was different.
The dog’s owner only came to retrieve her dog when she heard my husband yelling, "DOWN," at the top of his lungs as he stood there shielding Lil C from the huge paws and hoping to block the dog from jumping on Big I and her friend who were hanging out behind him on the patio. I stood there shaking, absolutely livid, wanting to tell her off in the worst way. She called her dog and never offered a single word of apology.
It is ON.
As soon as the girls were in bed, I fired off a complaint to the township. She will get a letter informing her of the ordinance she knows she’s breaking and warning her that if reported again she will be subject to a fine and/or jail time. This is not a minor issue or irritation. If Big I had been jumped up on the way I was, she would have been on the ground. I don’t care what kind of dog it is or how well it’s trained. . . any dog can be a threat, especially to children, at any time. What if Lil C had been on the ground? The thought of it makes me absolutely sick.
I will have made an enemy I’m sure, but I have no problem with that. I’m not the one breaking the law. My husband told this neighbor about having the dog on a leash back when the sledding incident occurred. We gave them a chance when they didn’t deserve one. We’re done.
My Mom called and I told her about my issues. She told me I need to move. I don’t need to move. All I need is for people to mind their own business and take some responsibility for their property and their animals. Is that really too much to ask?
Edited to add: Because I am a take action kind of person and because I do have "nice" coarsing through my veins on occasion, I went out to my neighbor’s weedy overgrown patio and yard while she was gone and got busy. I pulled every single weed, threw out trash (including a piece of cardboard where a mouse was obviously taking up residence. When I did this I didn’t even go into a convulsive "Oh MY GOD, THERE’S A MOUSE IN THE VICINITY" freak out that I would normally do, complete with screaming. I just threw it out). I even set up her kid’s play house and picnic table that was strew about and uninhabitable.
She came home to find me cleaning up her yard, and helped me finish up. I told her I was doing it to get the yard Inspector General off both of our cases (notice that bonding innuendo there just in case she was ticked that I took over her yard. . . it worked). I then told her that if she comes up with a budget, we’ll help her with a plan and do some patio reworking/landscaping to make it a little nicer for everyone. She was grateful and agreed. She also told me that the reason she didn’t go out there and clean it up herself is because there was a rather large snake taking up residence. It is SO GOOD I did not know that when I went out there armed with trash bags and determination to clean it up.
I tried to put myself in her shoes: a busy single woman with a child to take care of. . . if I were in her shoes I probably wouldn’t be concerned with weeds either. My payment for all my hard work was a couple bug bites and dinner provided for me and family by my neighbor. The best reward of all though is not seeing the eye-sore that was her yard, and knowing that I am one hell of a weeder!
The latest Birth Story is up and it’s a good one! Lydia tells the story of her daughter’s birth and it involves trolls with saws and lots of screaming. You don’t want to miss it!
A little bit of this, a little bit of that, but mostly things that tick me off
Rockstar Supernova
Is anyone else watching Rockstar Supernova? I’ve got a message for the performers. If your name isn’t Toby. . . go home. You don’t have a chance. I called it last week and I’m going to say it again. He rocks on a completely different level from everyone else. Of course, I called Marty at the beginning of last season; and he was the runner up. I actually kind of hope that Toby makes it to the top two and then loses. Why? Because I think he’ll do better on his own than he would with the Tommy Lee crew. The thing that is killing me about Tommy Lee and company right now? They keep saying to the contestants, "From that song choice, you don’t know what we’re all about." Tommy, Gilby, Jason. . . no one knows what the heck you’re all about. You don’t have a song out yet; not one. You have no library of music to generate songs from. Sure, you have your old bands, but the times have changed and so has the music. Anyway, because the people I want to win NEVER win (American Idol for example, because since Kelly, not a one!), I am going to choose some additional potentials in case Toby shows up singing Celine Dion next week or something. My runner-up contestants, in no particular order are: Patrice, Josh and Storm. So, because I now put that in black and white. . . Dilana or "Spawn of Satan" as I like to call her, will probably win. Scary if you ask me; but Supernova is certainly no INXS.
Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest movie
Captain Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp) and Will Turner (Orlando Bloom). . . sexy. Double sexy. Choke on your popcorn sexy. Use your popcorn bag as a hyperventilation aid sexy. Damn.
Teenage boys chewing snuff (dip, black tar-like substance, whatever you want to call it) while watching movie. . . so NOT sexy.
Message to snuff chewing boys: If you ever want to attend a movie with a female counter-part as opposed to your fellow snuff chewing zitty boy friends, I’d highly suggest spitting out the wad of cancer-causing nastiness. Gross. Seriously gross. Not only is it gross, but you look like a little old man who is missing his dentures. It’s just wrong.
Message to the three teenagers sitting beside me (one female, one male who were obviously a couple and then a third male): When you are sitting in the front row of a movie theater, it is rude to make out with your girlfriend/boyfriend. Not only does it make the third wheel of your little party uncomfortable, but it makes the 30-something couple sitting beside you kind of want to slap you around a bit. Back in my day (and NO, I don’t have dentures yet so I’m not THAT old), if you wanted to make out, you didn’t waste money on a movie and you certainly didn’t bring a friend along to watch. And, were you aware young teenager girl, that while you were lip-locked with your boyfriend, you were totally missing Orlando Bloom and Johnny Depp? My God WOMAN, what is WRONG with you?
The Picture People experience (yet again)
Lil C got her 9 month pictures taken today. Because I am a glutton for punishment, I took her back to The Picture People. I like their pictures; I really do. But I also have a message for the photographer: Do you see that dial-like thing on the end of the camera? The one around the lens? The thing that moves? Good. Now listen closely, when you move that thing. . . it does this amazing thing. It focuses. It’s supposed to focus on a FACE, not my baby’s fingernail on her pinky toe, not even on the stitching on her dress, and certainly not on the prop that you have placed behind my baby. You see, when you do that. . . my baby. . . her face is blurry. When her face is blurry, I don’t buy the pictures. I also scowl at you, complain, demand that you reprint the pictures because maybe you moved the negative or a wind blew it at just the wrong moment or something. Because you see, I have just had a work-out trying to get my very mobile baby to sit still for you so you can take the picture. When you take the picture and her face is blurry. . . you have failed miserably, and all that sweating that I have just done after spending 20 minutes of trying to convince her to sit still and smile at you even though you are very scary is for NOTHING. NOTHING. Add that up: 20 minutes plus one hour of waiting for blurry pictures plus 30 minutes of waiting for you to print and reprint and show me all the damn negatives already because there has to be at least ONE picture where her face is in focus. . .
It all adds up to one VERY HIGHLY ANNOYED mama. I have two words for you Picture People . . . AUTO FOCUS.
And, I think I’m about done now. I was going to add a little segment here about karate class this week; but right now, I’m just too annoyed with what happened at class to even process trying to write about it. Maybe later. . .
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