Open Letter...

Living in a swing state during an election cycle is an exhausting place to be.  Wading through half truths and unchecked 'facts' requires not only cognitive stamina, but also psychological strength - both things I am seriously lacking in.  It reminds me of shopping in the cereal aisle - too much propaganda, too many choices, too much sugar and very little humor. It's all good because in terms of all things political, I am finding myself fairly humorless - well except for some graphic cards that have been floating around the past few days.

Humorless.  Me?  I know it's hard to believe, but lately it feels like I have been shoveling snow during a blizzard while having to defend my reasons for having a shovel.  In the hopes of no longer feeling this way, I've decided to write an open letter to the folks who vehemently oppose President Obama.

Dear anti-Obamarites (yes I made that up, maybe?),
Hello fellow citizen of the world, hoping this message finds you well and in good spirits.  It has come to my attention that we have different ideas on this whole election cycle, political thing.  And you now what?  That's alright.  You're entitled to your beliefs, as I am to mine.  I think that's written down somewhere official, but it seems, to me, worth repeating.  That being said, I think it's important that you understand that while you are free to believe whatever you wish, you most certainly are not allowed to make value judgements on me, as a person, as a mother, as an educator, or as an American citizen based on my political opinions and/or leanings.

My ideas about  about certain things: like women's equality, accessible health care, social services, religion and how I raise my children come from a lifetime of experiences, education and observances.  They have never been dictated to me by someone else, in fact, I was highly encouraged by my parents to question everything; rest assured, I have come to my own conclusions.  While I grant that it might be comforting, in certain instances, to have someone hand me a list of ideologies to embrace, I have chosen to go down the more difficult road of coming to my own conclusions.

The path that Obama has chosen to take this country down is a path that aligns with my values; not burdening a struggling middle class (of which I am most certainly a member), allowing women to make decisions around their own bodies and health, equity in lifestyle choices, educating our society to be productive, contributing members of society, investing in sustainable, clean energy - these are all things I believe in.  And I'm sure, anti-Obamarites, that you have chosen Romney because he aligns with your system of beliefs, although I'll be honest and admit I'm not quite sure what those are.

So I ask of you: tread lightly when you lump me into categories, or label me, as I don't take too kindly to that.  Whether you think I'm a socialist or a bleeding heart liberal, or an educator who is only out for her own interests.  Yes, I've heard that a number of times lately where a simple thank you would've sufficed (you know, for taking care of your kids all day and attempting to help mold them into productive, contributing members of society).  I am so much more than these things.  If your attempts to label me continue, I will have no recourse but to label you.  As a racist, a greedy capitalist, a bible toting, gun-wielding troglodyte, and surely you are more than that?

Sincerely,
Kell

Have I told you...

About my girl?  The one who is alternately taking sips of my water and my hot tea while wearing a queen sized bed sheet as a cape and the belt from one of my disco-y shirts as a headband all Freedom Rock style?

She's the one who laughs when she farts and talks in the sweetest voice to her baby brother? The one who loves cucumbers and never lets you finish your meal by yourself, even if she's already finished hers? The one who rocks a princess costume while climbing the back fence with her brother? The one who draws pictures and makes cards for hours at a time, often while singing a song that she's made up off the cuff and somehow relates to her art?  The one whose room is a pigsty, and who wears tutus with snow boots?  Yeah that one.  My girl.

I met her on a very cold, snowy morning in February nearly six years ago.  I didn't know she was going to be who she is, but even then I knew she was perfect.  I saw her perfect pink roundness right out of the gate and said "I know that face".  She came into this world a 10, a perfect 10.  You know those APGAR measurements they give babies?  She got a ten on both measurements, which the nurses all made a biggish deal about because there are very few babies in Colorado who get tens because of the altitude.  A ten. Twice.  Perfection personified right before my very eyes.

All week I've been following the story of the little girl, Jessica Ridgeway, in Westminster, Colorado who went missing last Friday morning while walking to school.  Yesterday, on my way to work there were reports of a body being found about seven miles from her home.  I cried the whole way to work.  Thankfully, I had composed myself by the time I arrived only to find another co-worker crying as well.  Jessica.  I can imagine that Jessica's mother felt that, she too, had witnessed perfection the day her daughter came into her life.  I cannot imagine what she is feeling today after positive identification was made on the body that was her daughters.  My heart is breaking for Jessica, and for her mother today.

FORWARD...

Today is the last day in most states to get registered to vote.  DO IT! Or, this Nana will put a cap in yo ass...

Hale Fellow, Well Met

Big Bird, of the nest behind 123 Sesame Street, died Wednesday, November 7, 2012 after Mitt Romney was voted into office. Despite claiming love for the Streets beloved protagonist, Romney made good on his promise to cut off funding to avoid having the Chinese finance educational programming for millions of Americans.  Big Bird was last seen looking frantically for work before the plug was pulled on PBS stations all across the nation.

Born in 1969, Bird - as he was lovingly referred to by his good 'friend' Snuffie - bright primrose-yellow at 8 feet, 2 inches tall stole the hearts of pre-schoolers and parents alike.  Well known for his talents as an ice-skater, roller-skater, singer, dancer, unicycle rider, and poet, Big Bird was also known for his frequent misunderstandings.  It was these very misunderstandings - like thinking the alphabet was one long word - that made Big Bird a character that many could identify with and relate to.  While his relationship with  Snuffleupagus remained ambiguous (initially he hides Snuffie from everyone else, then Snuffie and Bird come out as friends), it is believed that this relationship further endeared Big Bird to viewers.  His self-identification as a condor, despite being flightless, made viewers realize that Big Bird was a pioneer in self actualization.

While best known for his work on Sesame Street, Big Bird was the subject of the feature film 'Follow that Bird', and also worked alongside Mister Rogers and the cast of the Muppet Show, both on their show and in their movies.

Big Bird is survived by his teddy bear Radar and his memorial service will be held on NickJr on Saturday, November 10, 2012.  It is expected that this service, officiated by Levar Burton,  will disrupt regularly scheduled programming on the popular pre-school channel for the entire day.  In lieu of flowers, it is asked that money be donated to the Public Broadcasting Service.

Dayum

Songs that the toddler monkey loves:

1. Werewolves of London - Warren Zevon

2. The Boxer - Paul Simon

3. Bad Romance - Lady Gaga

4. Boom Boom Pow - The Black Eyed Peas

5. I'm Elmo and I know It - Elmo 

6. The following gem, which he calls Uncle Dude as the guy singing reminds him of my brother & he listens to while holding his penis standing on a chair....

Not one Baby Einstein or Raffi jam on his list ~ I'll be accepting nominations for mother of the year now through December.

It would take too long to go into the math...

I suppose if you are willing to discount 47% of Americans, you would find yourself at a loss for explaining the math around your economic plan.  I wish I knew a number of high school math teachers who would be glad to help you explain your thinking, even provide you with a graphic organizer in order to do so. But, those sons a bitches are too busy caring only about themselves and all the money they rake in with their union jobs.  Hopefully, their supreme mathematical knowledge trickles down to the rest of us.

Shake What Ya Mama Gave Ya...

This weekend my mother was feeling unwell, and like any good drama queen had web m.d.'d herself into quite a fright.  Thankfully, she also went and saw the actual doctor and results came back today with her being fit as a fiddle and suffering from a possible allergic reaction to hot dogs - I told her hot dogs were filthy!  Anyway, her drama queen-ness is catchy and I realized that I was a little bit scared at the thought of anything happening to my mother ~ segue to violin music playing while I toss my hand across my forehead in a 'woe is me' posture.

Reasons Why My Mother is Not Allowed to Die Yet (or possibly at all):

• She has a dog that, I fear, would eat her face.  In terms of my mother's canine companion, the word dog is being used loosely.  She is no bigger than your average house cat and shakes like a leaf when too much is going on in the house, or if it is windy.  If anything were to happen to my mother, I fear, this 'dog' would eat my mother's face out of sheer nervousness.  To my thinking, my mother must outlast this epic-fail of a dog to save us a lot of trauma.
• I don't know how to buy my own underwear.  As I've mentioned previously, my mother buys me new underwear every year for Christmas.  Last year, I was left alone to pick them out and have been wearing underwear that are two sizes too big for the past 10 months.
• Only my mother, and her sister, know how to make Thanksgiving stuffing properly.  I have been instructed, numerous times, how to do so but even upon consulting my notes, I have to make a phone call to find out if I have it right.  This is very stressful for me, and on second thought, my Aunt Jackie isn't allowed to die either.
• There isn't anyone else I know, currently, that allows me to call her old lady, as in: 'Hey old lady, call the frigging doctor will ya?'
• There are lots of things that I am unsure whether I like or not.  My husband is a good source for this kind of questioning: 'do I like hazelnut coffee?', but my mother has known me longer and has more information on my likes and dislikes.
• My mother gives people stuff.  Oh, you need a dress for a wedding, go to my mother's house, she'll have just the thing.  Don't have a cookie sheet, here have hers.  One of my good friends doesn't have a wallet, and has been known to use a sock for her debit card.  When my mother learned of this, she promptly brought a wallet and a pocketbook over.  
• Sauerkraut.  I really like sauerkraut that is cooked with the juice from a roasting fresh ham.  I don't care about the ham necessarily, but I can't live without the kraut, and the gravy.  Oh, the gravy.  My mother makes this for my birthday every year, and I would be a very hungry girl every mid-October if my mother were not around.

• My children find my mother hilarious.  They want to go to her house or have her over our house quite frequently.  The toddler monkey even claps when he learns he's going to Mama's.  They like to take rides in the car with her, and sit on the couch and watch movies with her. They don't even mind her occasional sharp tone.
• She runs an inclusive operation - when she refers to her kids, she's talking about my husband too.  If she doesn't already, I know she will also include my soon to be sister in law when talking about her kids.
• My mother sings really good songs at karaoke - songs everybody knows and loves.  And, she sings them quite nicely.  I bet your mother doesn't do karaoke.

• I love her and would be a lost soul without her.