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I have decided to support, unequivocally, Barack Obama for President. Not since Paul Wellstone have I felt this excited and inspired by a candidate. It was a difficult decision for me, but watching him over the past two weeks solidified my desire to not only win in December, but to have him lead our country.
I really like Hillary Clinton. I think she is one of the smartest, savviest and capable politicians of our time. Articulate, thoughtful and driven not only for her own personal success but, I believe, she is driven by and truly has our country’s best interest at heart. And I like her policies and approach to international issues. Not only that, but she is a woman and for better or for worse that factors into my decision. I want a woman to be president and soon.
But … (and this is the most important factor for me) I don’t think she can incite the type of excitement or the support of Independents that this campaign needs. I am still not convinced that she would lose in November. I think she could pull it off. But I don’t think she would pull it off in the type of campaign that would pull our young people into action and that would pull our country together.
Obama’s message of hope is what, I believe, our country needs. His message will take us through the financially difficult times I think that we will face in the next few years and I think that he will gain a groundswell of populace support that will carry him through the first two years of his presidency, at least, and garner legislation that lifts us out of the many mistakes that have occurred in the past 8 years.
This nation is coming to understand how much the current administration truly sucks. Every day more and more information about them surfaces and it is casting a dark shadow of mistrust among the populace never before experienced. Obama’s positive message and amazing oratorical abilities will, I believe, lift peoples spirits and move them to action.
His message is honest. He will not fix this nation with policies and programs, but WE will. He cannot carry us through this difficult time alone, but together we can do it. That is what we all need. A big kick in the ass telling us that consuming goods is not enough to make this country whole again. It is up to us to come together and work together to make it happen. And how does that actually work? By inspiring the young, the 20-somethings and the teens, to get involved in community action.
If anyone can do that he can. I want him to win so badly that it hurts. So here I go, getting involved in yet another campaign. Unlike the last two elections, however, my time, effort and money will be well spent.
If you are interested in a more eloquent an intelligent essay on the abilities of Obama, check out this letter to the editor in the Jamaica Gleaner News.
Also, Oscar went to his first political rabble-rousing meeting last night. More on that later. He is, however, PUMPED UP! Check out his morning art:
Barack Obama you are a star
There are days when parenting seems to me to be an insight into hell. There are moments, and possibly days, when parenting is the greatest joy I have ever experienced.
When Alban woke up this morning he took my face in both his hands and he said, ” I love being your kid.” Nothing in my life compares to that. Nothing.
On our way back from Alban’s ‘hockey lessons’ today he screamed “DON’T STOP!!” I explained that a young woman was crossing the street in front of the High School and that if I stopped we would run her over with the van. Not good. “I want to run her over! I said ‘ DON’T STOP!’” This was his whine for 1 mile. Then it turned into wanting a friend of Oscar’s to come over for a play-date (he is in school all day) and then it was a fit about not wanting to go to the bathroom “forever!”
I feel sometimes that my limits as an individual and as a parent have been tested to the point where all I can do is make one mistake after another and all I can feel is failure. My children are both going through a phase of complete and total limit testing. How far can I push mom until she turns into the dreaded “mean mommy”? Lately it hasn’t taken much.
And then there are moments like this morning and the look in Oscar’s eyes when he sees me on his way out of school every afternoon. There is the snuggling in bed at 5 a.m. and the birthday present of “I love you more than anyone on the planet earth. And daddy, and the dog. And … Alban.”
I hope there will always be that. But I cannot wait for the testing to end.
I think that we should change our voice mail message encouraging people to leave a piece of advice at the sound of the beep to this:
“Hello! Welcome to Hormone Palace. We are too busy freaking out about insignificant things to answer the phone. Please leave a message at the beep … and DON’T hang up! IF you have gotten this far and you DON’T leave a message we will NEVER speak to you again because we have caller ID and we will KNOW if you called!! BEEP”
Yes … we are all a little fritzed out from mom’s hormone swings due to Peri-menopause (which, yes, has been diagnosed by two physicians); 5-year-old testosterone swings of desperation and fits of rage that make hormonal teenage girls look like Buddhist monks; 3-year-old struggles for independence way beyond his intellectual capacity and reasoning ability manifested in Freudian potty-issues that almost have him back in diapers; a 40-something’s struggle with balancing an incredibly demanding profession and a type-A crazy family’s dysfunctional approach to maintaining control in this trapped-in-the-house season when what we all really need is to be separated by miles of green space and millions of gallons of chlorinated water. But, in all honesty, I guess things are actually going relatively well.
Alban has decided that he will no longer give me his happy face which looks like this:
And he has decided that since I am so mean he will now give me only his mad and mean face which looks like this:
It actually has been a wonderfully happy start to the new year here, and for those one or two people out there who read this blog, I hope that your start has been wonderful, too.
A month has passed since I have written last. That is difficult for me to believe. Holidays for me and most of us, go by in a blur of activity and excitement. Our days were filled with family, friends and lots of playtime with the kids. We hosted Gordon and JoAnn and Grandma Flossie. It was wonderful.
We had a sing-a-long party on the Saturday before Christmas. Three couples we know well came with their children. Two of the kids played for us. Finn played the piano and Maddie played her violin. We sang and laughed, ate and drank. The kids were wonderful and we all had a good time. Music is such a gift and I hope to make the sing-a-long a tradition in our home. Consider yourselves warned.
We had our traditional dinner out on Christmas Eve. Oscar and Alban were fantastic. We went to an Indian restaurant and were treated with kid gloves. The boys ordered everything plain – plain rice, plain chicken that is red, plain naan. They actually ate and sat and talked to us. It was delightful. At times I see the boys that I proudly parent, the children turning into interesting and well-mannered and most importantly happy young men. We are far from the young men phase in our lives, but the foundation is being laid.
We had grandmas and Dad-dad all to ourselves. It was mellow and slow-paced yet busy. Ian was able to stay home for four days and we relished in our time with him. Games were played, books were read, movies were watched, sledding was enjoyed, treats were dispensed, the Christmas tree died, the birds were fed, the snow kept falling. All in all it was what one could expect and then some for a winter break. Although I would like to state my opinion which is quite strong that less of a break in winter and an earlier release in summer is in order for the Madison Metropolitan School District. Our break was about 3 days too long.
So they are back into their routine. Last week it went well forgetting about some serious break-downs from being tired and adjusting to our routine. School, hockey, school, hockey, play-dates, poop all over upstairs, hockey, sledding. It was an eventful week.
What was upstairs? Well, Alban and I were getting ready to pick up Oscar from school and head right over to my friend Jane’s for what we like to call a ‘flamingo party’. That is code for ‘bring your kids to my house and have a few drinks and some snacks and chat’. It is always lovely and a good time for the kids.
While I was making a snack to bring to the flamingo party and pack a small bag for the kids, Alban proclaimed that he had had an accident. Now, in my defense 99.9% of the time this means that he has wet his pants. I asked him to go upstairs and change and make sure that he was finished going potty which he is perfectly capable of. Off he went. Then he came downstairs with new clothes on. “Is everything ok”, I asked? “Yes” he replied unconvincingly. Upstairs I went. It was a mess. In the bathroom in our bedroom in his bedroom in the hall.
The clock said 3:14. Oscar gets out of school at 3:17 p.m. and it was my turn to pick up Oscar and the boy next door, Sam, who has a guitar lesson on Fridays at 3:45 so time was of the essence. Breathless and panicked I called Sam’s mom and said, “Susan? There is poop all over the upstairs!” “I am on my way!” she responded and we both hung up. I turned and looked at Alban and just sighed. In the tub he went and I disappeared looking for gloves and carpet cleaner. A flamingo party this was not. After about 30 minutes we were able to leave the house.
At 5:30 I called Ian and asked him to come and drive the kids home from Jane’s. I had drowned my sorrows in some Grey Goose and, quite honestly, felt much, much better about Alban and my day. Ian had said when I called, “you know, my day hasn’t been that great either and I am still at work not out having a drink with friends.” It was not a mean comment, he was just stating a fact. But … I asked him if his day included cleaning up human feces. Well, no it didn’t. That’s right. See you in 30 minutes. Ian arrived I stayed for one more drink and went home helped, somewhat, with putting the kids to bed and fell asleep at 8 o’clock. Just another day at the Pitz home.
