The Cannucks are looking mighty healthy

I suppose I should explain why, on my last post, I put up a picture of Hillary Clinton with the caption "You go, girl." While I understand this is a convention for Barack, I just wanted to commend her for doing something very un-Clinton-esque: accepting defeat. I was a Hillary supporter from the beginning, and while I am sad that she did not get the nomination (because I STILL think she is the better suited candidate), I understand that we must come together and make sure we vote a democrat in the White House. And in so many eloquent words she said to us, "I didn't win, and that's OK, but I'm not going away."

I make no apologies on this blog for stating I am democrat. I come from a long line of active democrats---my parents were both elected officials and very involved in the democratic party on the local level. So while I am still pissed at Nancy Pelosi for her lackluster performance, and the House for not having enough balls to go after Bush I am sure as hell certain that just because my candidate didn't get the nomination, I am not voting for John McCain. It's unfathomable that the 20% of the former Clinton supporters are "not sure" who they are voting for now. C'mon. Really?

I really love in Hillary's speech, too that, in so many words, she's calling Barack to the carpet on the Health Care reform issue, by bringing it up in her speech, giving us a wink that she's going to make sure he sticks to his word when he's in office. (Again, that "I'm not going away" attitude.) And I say "when" because I have to positive. If I watch another election get stolen away, I just don't know what I might do...

Move to Canada?

At least I'll have health insurance.

Now, off to watch Barack.

Sisterhood of the traveling pantsuits

You go, girl

Retro Rash

This week I got something back from my youth. No, not a flat stomach. Or a bi-level haircut.

I got poison ivy. Or specifically, a poison ivy rash.

I have no idea where I got it from. About a week ago, I woke up one morning with an itchy rash that started on my chin. Thinking it was hives, I figured it would go away by the end of the day. Then, the next morning it spread to my left arm. Then a couple days later, it was all over my waistline. I thought for sure I’m coming down with skin cancer.

So after scouring dozens of websites with skin rash photo galleries, I reluctantly made the appointment for the doctor after living with this mysterious skin rash for almost a week, and braced myself for the bad news she would deliver. Something like, “Hmmm…I’d like to send you to Dr. Specialist for some tests.” But no, she took one look, and quickly stated, “Oh, you’ve got poison ivy.”

I haven’t had poison ivy since about 1981. When I remember vividly being covered by a pink paste with socks over my hands. This time I was prescribed a steroid type of cream, and it has seemed to work better than the pink paste and socks. But talk about a trip down memory lane. I’d much rather be listening to old Blondie albums.

"Greed is Good"

My 6 year old son, CJ, and I were discussing the virtues of a part time job during summer vacation. While he is too young to work now, we were discussing some of the jobs kids have to earn some extra money. And it went something like this…

Me: “Well, how about doing the chores around the house for spending money?”
CJ: “Too boring.”
Me: “What about babysitting, that’s a good way to earn some extra money.”
CJ: “I’ve already got Andrew following me around all day! I don’t want to watch more little kids!”
Me: “OK, then how about a paper route, like Phil has. Me and Dad both had a paper route. You could start that in just a few years.”
CJ: “Not enough money! I need to get paid more than what they offer.”
Me (trying not to laugh): “They don’t pay enough? OK, then how about cutting lawns?” CJ: “That would pay the best. And I could hand out business cards and have, like, my own business!”

Later that night while tucking him into bed….

Me: “Ceej, I was wondering, why don’t you think a paper route would pay enough?”
CJ: “Because Phil told me what he makes.”
Me: “Oh yeah? What?”
CJ: “He makes like, 50 cents or something like that. I need a whole dollar!”

Sickness Squared

Unfortunately, this past week was full of some sicknesses. Last Monday I watched my friend’s two children (who are friends with my kids), and from there it went downhill. The next day her daughter starting puking, and according to a strep test at the doctor was diagnosed with strep throat. 2 days later (after her daughter was feeling better), we all went out for ice cream and as I ordering at the walk-up window, my friend says, “Uh oh, he’s puking…”, referring to my son, Andrew. (My kids have a knack for puking as soon as we enter a restaurant establishment–—my older son did the same thing in a Chik-Fil-A several months ago. I felt lucky, though that neither had puked 2 mins earlier, which would have been all over my car. Restaurant workers just love us.) So after stripping him down, wrapping him with a towel which was handily in the trunk, my friend took CJ, while I whisked Andrew back home. It certainly put closure to the cranky mood he had been exhibiting for the past 48 days, so mystery solved there.

But wait, this story is not over.

Flash forward to Saturday afternoon, when Andrew is feeling better and it’s gorgeous weather. We all take a ride to the park, and within about 30 mins of being there, CJ starts spiking a fever. But he’s “OK, mom” according to him. Yep. So back at home, he lazily makes his way through the day insisting he is not sick when he’s sweating from a fever, not talking (extremely unusual), and refused a bowl of ice cream, claiming he wasn’t hungry. The refusal of ice cream sealed it for me. So, even though he never ended up puking, he suffered through the weekend (which did I mention was gorgeous weather?) with a fever. As of this morning when I left for work he was rather sprite and chewing on a banana.

But wait, this story is not over.

Back to my friend. Her and her family had plans to go away to PA this weekend, about a five hour drive from where we are in Columbus. While all went well in PA, on the ride back, her 6 year old son was puking the whole way home.

Isn’t this August? I thought we weren’t supposed to be dealing with mystery stomach viruses. I thought all that was saved for the winter months when we are either coughing, sneezing, puking or aching?

The best day evah

The party on Friday turned out to be a success, as was evidenced by the comment from my friend’s 4 year old daughter, “This is the best day evah!” I loved hearing that considering you just never know whether kids will have fun doing the things you think they will have fun doing. I had one medium sized pool set up, a slide pool, a baby pool, a sprinkler, and an inflatable castle. We also had a gazillion water balloons (see pic below) and the sand box on the deck, as well as a make-it-yourself peanut butter and jelly buffet with ice cream tubs to follow. My husband, the moms and I were opening beers by early afternoon. We all had our feet up, enjoying the fact that our kids were completely entertained for the afternoon, as well as being completely worn out at the end of it. The weather was hot, but bearable, and I have to say it was one of my most enjoyable days so far this summer. Everyone came out unscathed with no bruises or band-aids.

Which leads me to why it felt so good to just let it all hang out and take a vacation day from work. There always seems to be a tug-of-war over work vs. spending time with the kids. And I don’t just mean the day job. I also mean the cleaning, the yard work, my creative pursuits, or simply reading the Sunday paper. I know I’m not the only one who suffers from this, so I try not to stroke the violin too much. It’s a daily thing for almost every parent, I know. I just get weepy sometimes as I think of how quickly the time will go. Over the weekend, the time span of “15 years” came into the conversation and how 15 years ago it was 1993. And I think about where I was in 1993, which was my last year of college. While it seems light years and maturity levels ago, it also has gone very fast. And so I fast-forward to thinking about my life 15 years from now, when the kids will be 21 and 17. No more fun Fridays with a backyard pool, no silliness over water balloons and no one will want to be sipping Capri Sun from a straw. I’m not saying fun times will be over, but “fun” will have a completely different meaning, and rarely at that age does it involve your parents. What’s further distressing about 15 years ahead is that I will be 52 and my husband will be 64. Again, seems like light years, but it will certainly go quicker than the last 15 years has. I try to remain positive about the prospect of being 52, but something doesn’t sit well with me when I think of myself at that age, or worse, when I think of my husband in his 60s.

On the bright side…cheers to fun Fridays in the backyard. It’s good for the mind and soul.