Cancer - Maybe I *AM* a Hater...

I spent a good deal of time today thinking about the concept of hate - and considering my own relationship with the idea. Hate is unpleasant - and a waste of energy. It's destructive and, as far as I can see, serves no legitimate purpose, other than to feed upon itself and others. The analogy may be a little off, but in my mind, I liken the concept to an emotional tapeworm. Who would want that?

The 88 year old man who walked into the Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington DC today and opened fire leaves me struggling to conceptualize how a human being could be so filled with hate... Again, I've spent a good amount of energy today trying to understand the situation. Apparently, hate devours energy in that manner as well.

Struggling to explain the existence of such evil (because really, that's what hate is) to my eight year old also took its toll on my emotions and energy. That, at least, fills me with hope and love - that she didn't understand why either.

Hate - whether it's manifested in hate speech or terrorist acts - is abhorrent. Ironic, I know. I've already been accused of being a hater of hate. I just struggle deeply to understand its motivation. This struggle has become the theme for my day.

Driving tonight and listening to CNN, the events today in Washington were again brought to my mind, followed by an interview with someone who is currently fighting cancer. As I listened to his words, to the statistics that were discussed, I would have given anything to hug my mother again. I had to put the phone down when I caught myself about to call friends who had also lost loved ones to cancer. I wanted them to know I was thinking of them, praying for them and that I was sending them hugs, wherever they may be. I wanted to reach out and hold all my friends who have survived their bouts with cancer - and those who are still fighting. I wanted to do something, anything, to help fix it all!
A radio broadcast of a Larry King interview did this to my emotions.

Then I realized, HATE was welling up within me, making me feel this way.

I still don't understand (and probably never will) the idea of hating another human being. I do, however, understand the concept of HATE. I will freely admit that I hate cancer. I don't pity it. I am not able to shrug off my feelings towards it. I can't even pretend these things. Cancer is a horrible HORRIBLE thing and I wish more than anything that our society could find a way to eradicate it from the face of the earth. I DO HATE - I HATE CANCER.

Click here to go to the American Cancer Society and see how you can make a difference

Coincidences?

Isn't it funny the way the internet (and life) works?

As I drove home this evening, I listened to an interview with someone who had been diagnosed with, and just started chemo for, a rare form of cancer. He is letting his battle with the disease be a public one in the hopes of raising public awareness and support for cancer research. The interview may have been targeted at folks such as me - but if so, it worked. I missed my mother tremendously in those minutes and had to put the phone down before I started calling everyone else I knew who'd lost someone to cancer in order to tell them how much I loved them and wanted to send them a big hug. It was late at night - I caught myself before I actually hit the send button.
I reasoned with myself and decided that when I got home, I'd blog.

After all - encouraging people to support cancer research is ALWAYS a good use of a blog.

By the time I got through the thunderstorm outside, did a few things in the kitchen and plugged my laptop in to charge, the idea to blog had passed, however. As is my habit, I checked Facebook... and saw a friend had found an application that tells you how common your name is in the US. I'm 99% certain that I'm the only one with my name in this country (if we include my middle names, I'm fairly certain I'm the only one in the world) but I was lured into the application - an application that told me there are three of me in this country.
Still, I could account for me appearing as three different people in databases, given my time in the DC area, in CT, and in IL. But I had to google me. After all - I had to make sure.

My mother passed away over seven years ago - two weeks before Alexandra's first birthday. Her obituary was, for a long time, a staple part of the results when my name was googled. As the years progressed, however, it moved further and further down on the list - and eventually it disappeared. After all, the newspapers don't keep all their obituaries online for perpetuity.
For at least the past year, whenever I've googled my name, that obituary has been gone.

That is, until tonight. Tonight, when I googled my name in quotation marks to see just how many me's there are, there was my mother's obituary on the third page.
And now, here I am - at my blog, and ready to blog once more about cancer...

Now you just try to tell me that she wasn't advocating for cancer awareness in her own dead spiritual way....

Did you know the Shriners put on a circus?

I've held a lot of jobs in my life. I haven't kept such track as to know the precise number of jobs I've had, but I know they've outnumbered almost anyone else I know. I like to think of them as all little mini life experiences - each one benefiting me in some way and helping to shape the person I am continually becoming.
That sounds so deep.

Really, though, I've held a lot of jobs. Some of them have ben a bit - well, shadier - than others. I think the first of those jobs was during my senior year of high school, when I got a job working as a telemarketer for $6.00 an hour. Hey, that was good money then!!

The job itself was in a one room office space, sparsely furnished with folding chairs, folding tables and a number of telephones. The majority of the employees were high school students, that I can recall (okay, I can only remember two of the people I worked with, but they were both seniors too!). We worked for about four hours an evening and cold called people out of the telephone book, asking them to donate money to some obscure charity (I think it was the Shriners) and we would send them complimentary tickets to the Shriners circus when it came to New Britain.
The longer I worked there, the more jaded I became - eventually deciding the whole operation was a scam and that there was no such circus. From what I recall (it was a number of years ago), I was not the only one to come to these conclusions. The "company" packed up shop and left one day without giving us any notice, thereby cementing the idea that it had all been a scam. I never did receive my last paycheck from them.

Fast forward a bunch of years to last month. At a local business I was given some vouchers for free children's tickets to the Shriners circus when it came to Du Quoin. I laughed and then shrugged and accepted a couple - something to do with Alexandra this summer.
This afternoon we made plans with Alexandra's friend Emily and her mom to go to the six pm show. The $12 price tag on the adult tickets was mitigated with the fact that we had free tickets for the girls - it would be an adventure.

Mind you, the only circuses I've ever been to have been Barnum & Bailey's - the concept of "other" circuses made me wary to begin with, the Shriners having a circus compounded that with the memories of that shady job from so many years ago.

As we waited for Emily and her mother to arrive, we were given two free grown up tickets from some girls who had extras and were looking to unload them. Now all four of us had free tickets. Programs were $1; popcorn was $1.


Oh, and guess what - it was a real circus. There were acrobats and clowns and tigers and ponies and dogs and trapeze artists and jugglers and a motorcycle highwire act - and even elephants!


My overall cost for the evening at the circus - $4. It shattered the illusion of the farcical Shriners circus for me and opened Alexandra's eyes to the fact that circus animals may not be so happy (she mentioned to me during the elephants performance that they weren't happy because they were being forced to do things).

Oh what a night.

On the Way to the Last Day of Second Grade...

The drive in to Murphysboro in the morning is always when I start to wake up. It's a calming counterpart to the screeching of getting us up and dressed - and the vitamin D helps to energize me a bit. A little less than half an hour each morning when we can listen to the radio (usually CNN or NPR, but sometimes I cave and put on RadioDisney) and take the time to mentally wake up.

That being said, I am not always so aware of what's going on around us in the world at these times. I mean, I'm paying attention to the road and those surroundings, but life occurring outside of our little bubble? I don't normally drink enough coffee that early in the morning.

This morning, however, as we drove through De Soto, I was utterly horrified. Now I know I may not be the world's safest driver. I'm not saying I'm a danger behind the wheel, but I do occasionally go above the speed limit (shush, yes, I know... lead foot). When I drove past a man on a motorcycle with a boy about the same age as Alexandra gripping him from behind, I was shocked. It wasn't the motorcycle, nor was it the small child holding on for dear life. What horrified me was that neither the man NOR THE BOY wore a helmet. They zipped out into traffic after I'd passed them, pulling my heart out into my throat.


I'm sitting here now, drinking my chai, still trying to wake myself up - but that image, the boy gripping the man, no helmet on his head, worked well this morning of jerking me out of my sleepy haze. Other than making me slightly nauseous at the concept, it forced my brain to start processing my surroundings. I drove past a newly planted field and noticed that not only were the seedlings coming out in such uniform rows (that's something I've always noticed about farms and fields I've passed), but the tiny little plants in each row were a uniform distance from each other as well.
The wonders of technology - come to fruition in my observations of cultivated plant life.

This afternoon, when I pick Alexandra up from school, she will no longer be a second grader.
The world will have changed in some tangible way for me. I will be a third grade mom.
But the plants will still be the epitome of order and the irresponsibility of some people towards children will continue to be my wake up call.

Honesty... it's such a simple word

Alexandra, did you put your school shoes on?
Yes!

two minutes later
Then why are you barefoot?
Oh. I forgot.


Everyone keeps telling me it's a phase, that she's going to grow out of her constant lying. I've heard all the psychological excuses for it - she's asserting control or independence over her own life. I get it, honest I do.
But I don't like it.

Honesty is something I demand in all my relationships - and it positively kills me that I can't get it from my own daughter.
When the culprit is an eight year old girl who goes to a Catholic school, the easy remedy (and one upon which I rely way too often) is to point out that she's breaking a commandment and that Jesus is watching her. That's usually enough to cause instant penitence and the truth to surface.
But she's eight.

What happens when she's 18?

Hopefully by then she's gotten past the lying about EVERYTHING stage - but will she be an honest person? Will she have the underlying respect for others that is demonstrated in said honesty?
Or will she be sneaky? Will she be constantly trying to get away with things behind other people's backs? I doubt an ominous comment about God's omniscience will be enough to straighten her out at that age.

Maybe I shouldn't worry about it - after all... she's only eight years old. She's a good kid. She eats her vegetables, demonstrates an above average level of empathy in her dealings with others.
Maybe I'm looking at the rest of the world and imposing my distaste with the rest of humanity on her little shoulders.
Maybe it's a parent's nature to constantly second guess whether they're doing a good job in raising their children. After all, isn't there always something I could be doing better as her mother?

And maybe her foray into this realm of dishonesty is a good thing. Maybe (this might be the cynical mom speaking now) it is teaching her that not everyone tells the truth. Maybe it's teaching her to be a bit more discerning when it comes to trusting others.
Considering how trusting her mother tends to be - a little bit of hesitance on that front couldn't hurt...

It's All About Priorities... or "Don't Judge Me"

"Mom, you need to drink more alcohol."

This from the mouth of my way-too-old-for-her-years eight year old daughter. I laughed - and I'm pretty sure I posted the funny comment to my facebook account. After all, in this age of twittering and constant status updates, it seems a crime NOT to share that with everyone from my family to my best friend from preschool whom I've recently re-found. It's priceless, funny, and... what do you mean inappropriate?? How could someone take issue with my daughter cracking one liners like this?


One of my favorite stories to retell about my mother and parenting advice centers around Alexandra's first trip to the Durham fair back in 2001. She was only five months old, but the fair was one of my favorite things to do... so I bundled her up, and she, my mom and I got in the car and headed to Durham. Now anyone from CT can attest that the worst part of the drive to the Durham fair is the last 50-100 yards. You can spend an hour and a half slowly pulling into the converted cow pasture/parking area. And that time is all stop and go. I learned early on in my Durham Fair adventures that I can only do it if I'm driving - otherwise my motion sickness will rear its ugly head.
On this day, we discovered that given an hour and a half of stop and go non-motion, Alexandra will also develop motion sickness. She was a miserable sick little baby by the time we parked. Of course, I felt horrible taking her to the fair when she seemed so obviously sick, but the alternative was to get back in the car. Knowing that she had been fine until 50 yards from our parking space, I made the executive/mom decision that we'd stay at the fair. Her tummy would settle back down and she'd be fine once we'd been out in the fresh air for a while.
As we waited for the shuttle to take us over to the fair, a woman who I'm sure was well meaning (though admittedly it's taken almost eight years to see her in that light) told me what a horrible mother I was being, bringing an obviously sick baby out just so I could go to the fair. I was flabbergasted and felt sufficiently berated - enough that I turned around and was about to go home.
It was at this point that my mother looked at me and told me the most important thing I would need as a mother was a thick skin. Alexandra was my baby and I knew what was best for her. Never let some stranger's words undermine that.

Those words have served me well over the years since - and continue to. I've never been much for baby talk or for treating children like something other than people. While this may be partially responsible for Alexandra's extensive vocabulary and precocious grasp of many concepts that are normally beyond children of her age, it has also lead to numerous discussions with her about words and topics that are off limits for kids.
As she gets older, I see a snarky attitude developing that may not be the most reverent but does demonstrate a great sense of humor and developing wit.
She may still be my little girl who babies the heck out of Erin, her favorite baby doll, but she's also showing more and more of this awesome person who is empathetic, funny, frank, sincere, and bright.


So why did I start this post? Actually, it had nothing to do with Alexandra - or maybe it had everything to do with her. I made a blog entry years ago which offended a friend of mine and for which I will always feel bad. It was at a time when I was struggling to figure out what I was doing with my life, how I could possibly do anything with my life - and all that as a single mother to a toddler Alexandra. What I wrote wasn't meant to be judgmental but it came across as such - and hurt feelings.
I was, I think, upset that no one understood how hard my life was. My friend whom I inadvertently judged wasn't a mom, let alone a single mom - how could she understand me?
I know now, years later, that I was being judgmental about her lifestyle in how I was bemoaning the fact that she didn't understand mine. And, again, I will always feel horrible about that. I was reminded of that post recently when I read a similar venting blog post from someone else.
I admit that I caught myself rolling my eyes when I read the post - of course no one understands the plight you're in. You're unique.

Then I smacked myself upside my head.
Yes, literally.

As much as I didn't mean to judge my friend all those years ago, I am betting this other person isn't saying these things to be mean or judgmental. She's frustrated that people don't seem to understand the position she's in. And I know - it can be frustrating.
But here is my hindsighted opinion or advice on the situation (take it or leave it - it's meant purely as well-meaning)...

Don't fret. You're right - some people may not understand the ins and outs of your life, but their ignorance shouldn't be taken as malicious. It really shouldn't even be taken as callous or insensitive. After all, you have your priorities and they're important (otherwise they wouldn't be priorities) to you - but guess what!

Other people are allowed to (and do!) have other priorities.

My daughter is the most important person in the world to me. What she does on a daily basis is extremely interesting and important... to me. My commitment to being active in her life, her school, may seem like a tertiary choice to others - after all, how important, really is it for me to volunteer for her school's book fairs and field day? But to me, these are important commitments - keeping me in touch with what's going on in her life when she's at school.

Of course, I'm focusing this primarily on parenting, but obviously, not all my friends are parents - and even those that are have different life experiences and different priorities. Does this make those priorities any less important? NO.



We all choose our own paths and we all make our our decisions.
What's important to me is important; what's important to you is too.
When priorities clash or don't fall into perfect alignment, take a deep breath and shrug.
After all, no one wants to make anger a priority.

An Open Letter to Mediacom

To Whom It May Concern:

I am writing today to praise what an interesting job your company is doing in the face of the severe weather that occurred on Friday, May 8 in southern Illinois. While I have spent the past week dealing with such friendly, helpful people coming together in the face of what has been declared a disaster by the state of Illinois, your company’s complete unwillingness to be at all helpful is a welcome breath of fresh air.

Three times I called Mediacom’s support line to make sure they were aware of the downed wire in my yard, disconnecting my house from your services. Three times because the second and third times I called, to find out the status of my service requests, I discovered that the service requests had not actually been filed. I will grant that the third time I called, the request was in – but the service representative was confused as to why I was calling. According to her records, it had been scheduled for two days prior. This made sense as Mediacom van had been parked in front of my house and spotted by my neighbors – what didn’t make sense, though, was the fact that the line had not been restored and the my services were still nill.

She was good enough, however, to point out that I needed to pay my Mediacom bill. After all, having the services for which I’m paying is an entirely separate matter – whether I have them or not, I should be paying an exorbitant amount for them.

My last call was answered by an employee of yours named Renee (employee number 4208). You would be more than proud of her. While attempting to be helpful, she reused to answer any of my questions and, in fact, demonstrated very clearly that my questions were irritating to her. When I requested to speak to her supervisor, Ken (employee number 4341), she put me on hold only to come back and essentially tell me “no.” Ken refused to speak with me, to answer any questions I had, the questions that Renee refused to answer.

I would like to have mentioned the fine efforts of the technician who was seen sitting outside my house in this letter, to have praised his decision to not do what he considered an unimportant job. However, when I asked Renee for his employee number, I was told that jobs aren’t being assigned, that Mediacom is doing “whatever, when they can.” Again, compared to the concerted efforts of so many during this difficult time, Mediacom’s blasé approach is refreshing.

That blasé approach carries over to my own professional life, as I work from home and am reliant (sadly) upon the internet service that your company does not think is important enough to re-establish. As my own work hours have suffered tremendously due to this storm and Mediacom’s subsequent shrugging off of my downed wire, I’m excited to meet the prospect that not only will I have issue being able to pay that Mediacom bill (that’s due, whether you deign to offer me your services or not) and my other bills, but the very real possibility that I will lose my job due to my inability to access the internet. Of course, in an economy such as this, I’m sure I’ll have no problem finding new employment. Really, I’m sure this is just one of the many perks I can expect from being a Mediacom customer.

I would also like to thank Renee for being the first to inform me of the bad weather that my area has sustained. While I asked her about the truck that had parked outside my house and done no work, I was met with the explanation that there was widespread damage due to storms last week and that the trucks were in a different part of the area today. I don’t think she understands just how grateful I am for her informing me of this widespread destruction. Although I live in the area, was without power for the week, have spent a good amount of time in various communities in the area this week, and have had to deal with my daughter being out of school for an entire week due to the storm – I hadn’t quite realized the magnitude of the event until Renee told me it was widespread.

I will admit that in the past I have had issues with Mediacom. I have disconnected my service with your company on more than one occasion in a refusal to deal with the poor customer service that I have found you “offer.” As Mediacom is the only highspeed internet provider to service the area in which I live, however, I have been forced to return to your company yet again. I am thrilled to discover that your commitment to the lowest possible form of customer service remains intact.

I would offer my phone number for you to look at my account, as that is the identifying number your company chooses to assign each account. However, each time I call, I am told that my phone number, the one I should be using to access my account is a number other than my phone number. Each time I call, they change it – but it miraculously changes back each time, by my next call.
Therefore, I will sign this only by my name (with which apparently you cannot look up my account, as I’ve been told so often by Mediacom employees).


Kylie Olean
A Very Mediacom Customer.

An Open Letter to Illinois Plate "GGS 11"

You do realize that it's entirely your fault, right?

If you are in light to moderate traffic and proceed to tailgate in such a manner as the car in front of you can't see anything forward of your steering wheel, that car is going to slow down.  

It's dangerous not to.

What amazes me, I think, is that after you did this to me, used all kinds of obscene hand gestures, and the like and then passed me finally, you continued to do this down the line of traffic.  Each time, you not only frustrated yourself by getting caught behind a driver who slowed down, you made the rest of us behind you more and more upset.  After all, each time this happened, we ALL had to slow down.

FYI, as well.  If the speed limit is 55 and I'm doing 65, passing another car, it IS okay for me to be in the left lane.  Please don't gesture like that at me again.

You didn't even have the excuse of being a student... or a local kid.  

You were an adult - a middle aged man who turned into the McDonald's parking lot.  

Seriously?  

All that for McDonalds?

Baby Fever

Did I mention Alexandra turned eight yesterday?

Today, I uploaded a bunch of photos and skipped around friends' and family's photos as well. End result: I'm baby crazy again. Okay, yes, I know - I tend to always be baby crazy. But I digress...

I was thinking about it and at first figured it's a spring thing - always wanting another baby in the spring. Then I thought about it some more. Is it because Alex gets a year older each spring?
Maybe it's because people with babies who have hidden from the cold all winter, bring them out in the spring?
Maybe I'm over analyzing this way too much.

Whatever the reason, if you have a baby and are in the local area, I highly recommend you take advantage of my baby mushiness - Call me crazy, but I'm a willing and happy free babysitter.

Alex is all about the babies now too - making faces and playing with them.
Thank you Auntie Bita and Shahin for that.

Okay - done baby rambling. I promise I'll start posting more cohesive blogs soon...

Chronic aging...

Today my baby turns eight. Oh - and I'm eternally uncool for referring to her as such.

I turned to her in the car this morning, as we drove to her school, and asked her (with obvious horror in my voice)..

wait. if you're eight today... does that mean that I'm no longer 24??

The delighted little gleam in her eyes. Yes mom, you're your normal age again.

So what is that then? Old??
I am afraid the answer is yes. My normal age is "old."

just watch... I'll end up at Karma, getting another tat today, after that little self esteem dunker...

Forced - or False - Intimacy

One of my classes this semester has required that I obtain a Second Life account. For anyone who doesn't know what that means, it's a virtual world - complete with obscene amounts of commerce, fabulous shoes, and an overall disregard for morality. Perhaps I'm being a little harsh - especially considering the amount of fun I'm having on it. While I'm working on an extensive project within the environment, I'm also learning how to be an above average stripper (one of the few readily available jobs within this world). I've befriended people from around the country and the world - and even a couple of horses and a unicorn.
But as much fun as this alternative reality is, a form of escapism with highly detailed graphics and often some really great music, it's still managing to leave me with a little bit of a sour taste in my mouth.
One man that I've met on Second Life told me the other night about women who have attempted to blur the line between Second Life and Real Life.
So my thoughts on this...
With the anonymity that Second Life offers its users, along with its devolution into ... well, a lack of morality ... it's easy for people to share more of the private things about their lives. If no one knows who you are, it seems safer to admit to the darker bits of your soul, right?
For those who know where their boundaries are within this world, that can be fine. After all, I'm fairly certain that my friend the horse in Second Life is NOT a horse in Real Life. There's some fantasy elements that surround everything here - and who knows if what anyone says is the truth.
But there are people in this world who have problems separating the fantasy from the reality - and so when they appear in this alternate world, can come to confuse Second and Real. Or is it Real and Second?
One of the founders of Second Life, on the program's five year anniversary last year, made some disparaging comments about the user base of Second Life. Basically, he suggested that the people who comprised the bulk of its users tended to be misfits and unable to function within real society - and that they were drawn to this other reality where they could create alter egos of themselves - avatars who would be the cool people they could not be in their own lives.

I guess its this combination of what the supposed user base is, with the false intimacy that the environment often creates. Such an unstable combination makes me worry at times that even allowing people to know I'm in Illinois (that's as far as I go with my own details) is too much.

Maybe, from now on, my avatar will be from Missouri.

You Can't Always Get What You Want

Every time Alexandra needs her haircut, the following argument ensues: "But, Mom, I want CURLY hair!"
Yes, she's seven years old (I didn't start begging for a perm until I was like 11!), but she's pretty on top of her appearance and all that. And she wants curly hair.
Right now, it's straighter than anything, blond, and shines in the sun. It's so pretty - and she hates it. She wants curly hair. At least she's not as bad as I was and still likes the color of her hair.

My hair used to be just as straight - and I hated it. Luckily (at the time, I would have thought so, at least), it was the 80s and I was able to convince my mother that I should have a perm and my hair should be curly.

We won't discuss the poodle-like perms that ensued.

Anyway - luckily (and I truly do believe that this IS lucky) I survived the eighties - and I know the damage that perms do to one's hair. She so is NOT getting a perm.

And my hair problems? Well, I guess I got what I wanted. I realized tonight, as I looked at my windblown mess of hair that it's just the amount of curl that I'd always wanted when I was in junior high - I got my 80s curliness - just a couple of decades late. I spent what seems like (and may have been) a couple of years attempting to straighten it - blowdrying, straightening irons, but the straight never stuck.

Tonight I've decided to accept the semi-tangled mop of loose curls that I'd have traded for straight and silky hair in a heartbeat. Instead of complaining about the fact that my hair has a mind of its own, I'm going to embrace it.

I'm hoping that setting this precedent with Alexandra will model better hair-esteem.
I couldn't bear to see her beautiful straight hair in frizzy poodle curls!

Happy Valentine's Day...

I've never been a detractor of Valentine's Day - though I've also never completely bought into it either. After all, I'm narcissistic enough to believe that people should declare their undying devotion to me EVERY day, not just once a year.
Still, roses and chocolates have been a nice bonus at times in the cold depths of February.

That being said, aside from the commercial hype of florist commercials and the like, I've never noticed too much of a public celebration of Valentine's Day. Maybe I've been blissfully unawares? Maybe. But yesterday, as I walked through the throngs of displays and booths and Valentines signs in the SIUC student center, I was struck with how demonstrative this year's Valentine's Day seems. I asked someone else if it was just me - she said that she was kind of floored by this year's display as well.

So what's going on this year? Is a subconscious societal attempt to relieve the growing stress of our faltering economy? I'd love to be all gushy and warm and "Valentine's-y," but I can't really wrap my head around any other kind of excuse for it all.

Valentine's Day will come and go this year, for us, with a dinner and movie date. Alexandra gets to pick the restaurant and we'll go see "Push" (yeah, Alex chose that too). There may be chocolate involved, but her doctor said she should cut down on chocolates earlier this week. Alexandra is nothing if not a rule-follower.

I MAY have a fake chocolate rosebud that I'm carrying around in my bag today, but it's more for use as a magic wand than anything Valentine's-esque.

Happy Valentine's Day. Not in an ostentatious kind of way, but in a - have a good day, a happy day, and remember that there's someone who loves you, who's thinking of you, today and everyday.

Should _I_ Have Paypal Set Up On Here??

Okay, I will freely admit that, as a single parent, oftentimes ONE child is overwhelming. Add into the mix the multiple pets, the work schedule, not to mention the school schedule (and that pesky thesis), and I end up being, for the most part, a frazzled, overwhelmed Kylie most of the time.

It's worth it, though - I love my daughter, I'm working towards what I love - it's all good. Right?

Then today my eyes are opened to the newest sensationalist story in the country (at least, I think it's the newest, I could be behind still)... the Octo-Mom.

I'm one Kylie (and I've been told that I do a lot) and one kid can be too much at times. This woman, Nadya, now has 14??? She's a single mom as well - and she's in school as well. But 14 kids??
Her defense at that number was that she was really only trying for one more - to make it seven children. Because seven children is a picnic?

So, as happens when Kylie discovers something like this - I read up on it a bit. I read a bunch of news stories about this woman from the past few days and even visited her website (sorely disappointing - it was just a page asking for donations. nothing more). There's no way that I could or would want to defend her. I mean, I do understand the desire to have another child - but fourteen seems a little over the top. She actually reminds me of a Naylor character, but I digress.
I can't defend her. I don't want to defend her.

Then I read through the comments section of a few of these articles. There are comments on there calling for the death of the children rather than let one cent of government money be spent on them.
There are people on there calling for the children to be removed from the mother's custody and immediately put up for adoption.

After all, if you're in school and have children, they should die or be taken away from you?
*shudder*

Mind you, I DO understand the public frustration with this woman and her decision to have this brood of children. As yet, she's not actually taking responsibility for them - mostly leaving them in the care of her mother who went bankrupt last year. She doesn't contribute money to the running of her own household, in fact. She relies solely upon her mother.
Again, I understand how hard it is for just one child - I can't imagine six (let alone now 14). But to not contribute at all? That's unconscionable. That her mother is enabling this, as well. *shudder*

And with all that being said, the thing that makes me most upset is the attitude of absolute intolerance that this issue has brought out in the public.
Seriously? Kill the children rather than let them have a dime?
Really, WHO is the mentally unstable one? While I don't think this Nadya in living in what I would term "reality," I wouldn't credit those people leaving these comments as "stable."

Take the children away and adopt them out? There's a bit of a slippery slope there...
Hey lady who made that comment, what happens to your 2.4 children when you get laid off this year because of the economy? Do you get to keep them? But you might end up on some form of government assistance - unemployment, food stamps... Really, it'd just be better if the government stepped in and took them off your hands permanently. That would solve everything.

The thing is, and I'm guilty of it now as well, if we're so horrified as a culture about the actions of this one woman, why are we allowing her to be news? Why are perpetuating her time in the limelight and her chances of profiting from her actions? Why aren't we just ignoring it? If we don't buy into her hype, it won't be hype anymore. She'll discover what a mess she's made of her life and hopefully it'll be a wake-up call. Oh, and all those people calling for her dismemberment, or whatever harsh penalty they've dreamed up this hour, won't have to worry about going to hell...

cuz I'm pretty sure that when you call for the infanticide of 8, that's where you end up.

Commitment...

A quick thought or two on the subject.

I have trouble relinquishing my hold on some commitments - in that I'm fiercely loyal and committed to my relationships.

Why then, do I swear up and down I have a fear of commitment? I'm rethinking how I examine my relationships with my work now. Is it a fear of commitment really, or a fear of the unknown - of what happens NEXT?

On the road again...

I have been blessed with a child who may just be the world's best traveler.

Alexandra and I left Connecticut on Thursday - headed for Washington DC on our way back to Illinois. It's not exactly on the way, but we have a lot of people we wanted to visit with in the capital area, so it's our regular ending to visits back east. We spent two nights in DC - got to see a number of people, but not all (sadly - I hate missing people when I get to town!) - and then we were on the road again this morning. In an attempt to replenish a few little items that had broken and/or disappeared, we also wanted to hit Ikea in Virginia on the way out of town.

FYI - Ikea is NOT actually on the way out of town. It is, if you're going on a different highway. However, if you're heading out the way we usually do, it's not. We discovered this before it was too late, though, and still managed to get over to Ikea.
Unfortunately (?) we chose to visit Ikea on the same day that RadioDisney was broadcasting from there. I say unfortunately because instead of the 45 minutes we would have taken at the store, we were there for more like two hours and 45 minutes.

I'm a sucker.

Alexandra, on the other hand, is a PRO at the RadioDisney contests. She won a Hannah Montana dvd game, a Jonas Brothers poster, and two movies on dvd. She had a great time dancing her heart out and (I think) trying to become famous over RadioDisney.

All of this excitement at Ikea, however, also meant that we lost a good chunk of travel time today. Which translated into a later arrival tonight in Charleston, WV. I commiserated with Alex as we drove that this trip tends to suck. It does. I know that. She knows that. It's a long ass trip - and it basically ends up being about three days in the car (one to DC, one to Charleston, one more home). It's hard to sit still for that amount of time - and you can only watch movies over the iPod so many times.

That being said, Alexandra and I agree on most music and so enjoy singing along to whatever playlist we choose - or cd - or whatever is on the radio.
There's no whining or "are we there yet" from Miss Alex.

So, we're holed up in our hotel room for the night, now, and I'm ready to pass out. Alexandra and the puppy are unwinding before bed and ... well, it's another day of driving for us tomorrow!

Merry Christmas

At the end of a really wonderful day, filled with family and fun, I just want to extend my hopes that everyone had such a great day and that their season continues to be merry!

It's Almost Here...

I'm not sure what I think about Christmas anymore. I mean, I still enjoy it - I like the music and the anticipation. The thing about Christmas, however, is that it's really all about the anticipation. That's it. The exciting part happens so quickly ON Christmas - that the bulk of the "joy" is in the anticipation. It's eagerly waiting to see the children's faces as they rush to the fireplace that morning. It's the savory aromas that waft out from the kitchen while we salivate over the impending meal. It's the carols on the radio becoming more and more frequent as Christmas nears.

For our family - well, for Alexandra and myself - it's overdosing on carols early on... and never letting them up. It's the long and arduous drive from southern Illinois to Connecticut. It's the hope of snow upon arrival and the hope for no snow on the journey. It's decorating my father's tree with the ornaments that document my childhood and now Alex's. It's passing down the stories of Christmases past to a new generation - and creating new traditions with her.

Of course, our holiday lasts a little longer, I guess, than most. We are able to spend over a week visiting with friends and family whom we don't see very often anymore. We partake of so many experiences that used to be so ordinary - and now are a rare treat. I drink my Dunkin' Donuts coffee and Alexandra enjoys her Friendly's sundaes and we're both a little happier.

It's the end of the day on the 23rd. I'm not sure entirely how productive today has been for me, but it's been enjoyable. And tomorrow the anticipation will increase - especially as I prepare to do a whole lot of wrapping that I've been putting off.

Caroling, caroling, baking and singing will be the order of the day. Anticipation.

I'm sorry - was I WANTING cold weather??

I know I was bemoaning the warm weather back in Illinois the other day - but I think I'll take a sunny 65 degree day over the bone-chilling cold that I'm dealing with at present.  

Of course, I love the idea of a white Christmas.  Bing Crosby instilled that in me long long ago.  I just put the dog outside, though, and the minute that I was outside was enough to get under my skin and chill me to the core.

Brrr....

So I'm going to make some hot chocolate tonight to warm my cold cold heart.  Tomorrow we're going sledding and then decorating Grandpa's Christmas tree.  We're also going to catch up on our baking.  I'm hoping that all this activity will make me forget that chilling feeling invading my soul... or at least my bones.

This is the week before Christmas, right?

... the reason I ask is that it's 65 degrees outside and sunny with blue blue skies.  Oh, there's a puffy white cloud over my car, but other than that...

The idea of driving back to CT tomorrow morning with these conditions shining down upon me - well, that's not so bad.  The problem comes with the fact that the rest of the country (or at least the part that I'll be traversing) is covered in multiple inches of snow.  

Don't get me wrong, I love a white Christmas.  

It's been a year, however, since the last time I made this drive - and being out of practice, I'm a little nervous about the drive to begin with.  After all, not only is it a hellishly long trip, I'm doing it with Alexandra, two guinea pigs, two hamsters, and the puppy.  The hellish nature increases exponentially with each being.

At the end of journey, we will be rewarded with seeing our friends and family back home, catching up, and relaxing of a sort (okay, I have some writing to do too).  

Then, two weeks later, we'll do the trip in reverse!