Get Clean Before You Get Dirty

The book Freakonomics is on my nightstand. This is irrelevant at the moment, but you'll get my point shortly.

I suppose this is technically a so-called "Mommy Blog." Well, in order to become a mommy, there is but one requirement (adoption aside for the moment). Nookie. Action. Play. Getting frisky, as the Cunninghams used to say. Call it whatever euphemism you like, but let's keep it clean. I like things to be clean, remember?

Mom, Dad, Big Brother, I recommend you stop reading now. Go on, go book a flight or something. The Internet is good for stuff other than blogs ya know. Go on now. Scat. Get outta here.

Since this is a smut-free zone, I'll be brief and as June Cleaver as possible (then again, how smut-free was she with a kid called Beaver?). The fine folks at Eden Fantasys indulged me in a bit of swag. As a neat freak, I was drawn to the aromatherapy bath and shower stuff. Hubba Hubba, nothing like a spanking clean man. Whoops, probably could have used a better word than "spanking." Delete those visuals from your minds, folks. The massage lotion was a buttery dream, and the foot stuff was porn for my feet. Hmmm, another poor choice of words. You get my drift.

I'm a Virgo. We like stuff clean. We prefer stuff to smell good. Enough said.

Let's just say that I put down Freakonomics in favor of getting my freak on instead.

Change is Here, Boys

Dear Bird and Deal,

See that little boy in the photo up there? He grew up to be president of the United States of America.

A whole new world has opened up and presented itself to us today. Your world will be much different than mine. Barack Obama will become our new president. He will be the first black president in our country's history. I voted for him for you. You, my mixed race boys who are first generation American. You, my boys who can truly grow up to be president or anything else your hearts desire. You, my boys who already have a keen interest in your world.

Bird, when I showed you pictures of the past 43 presidents you asked why there were no women. Ah, you make me proud! Then I showed you Obama's photo next to all those white faces, and you remarked that he looks different, that he looks like me, like our beloved nanny, like you, like your little brother. Then you said that we really should not say "white" and "black" because we are really "pink" and "brown." To you color carries no baggage, no hate, no judgement, no preconception; it is simply a Crayola descriptor. You didn't understand why Obama is the first black president out of all these men. I talked to you about Martin Luther King and Rosa Parks. We read books that captured your undivided attention, yet you could not identify with the reality that once was. I pray that you never will.

During this arduous campaign for many nights I missed tucking you into bed, I hurriedly kissed you and Daddy as our paths crossed, I was absent from the dinner table, I was high strung and on edge, I was preoccupied. I was also sleepless, filled with anxiety and hope bundled together into one tight little knot. I was concerned about your future and what my generation's legacy would be to yours. I struggled with hefty issues of race and division that I pray will not litter your world. I knocked on doors, made phone calls, planned rallies, wrote articles, researched policies, and tried to make a difference. For you. I did this all for you, my boys.

And so today, after months, weeks, days, hours of worry and time well spent, I too am spent. I am an emotional wreck. Barack Obama will be our next president. It is true. It cannot be undone. You have no idea the elation strumming through my veins as I write those simple words. He is a great man who will fix much of what is so horrifically broken in this country. He is inheriting a disaster of epic proportions. He faces no small feat, but I know he, with the help of ordinary Americans like us, can heal our wounds. I am so proud to have been but a small player in his vast army of volunteers. I hope my actions over these weeks will influence you one day when you spike the political fever and pour your own blood, sweat, and tears into a candidate you believe in.

To say this day is momentous would be one of life's greatest under statements. Today is magical, hopeful, jubilant, and I would be remiss to say, a long time in the making. We not only watched history unfold before us from a front row seat, we rolled up our sleeves and put our our hands in the pot that cooked up this great day. We, along with millions of others, made history. When you read about this in high school one day, you can say that you were there, that your mom and dad got calloused feet, hoarse voices, and paper cuts galore to have the priviledge of supporting Barack Obama. You will have mountains of campaign memorbilia that I have tucked away for you. You will have photos and videos and newspaper clippings. You will say that your Nani shook Obama's hand in Berlin. You will realize that history is more than a textbook; it is a story.

America, the country in which you were lucky enough to be born and the country that Nani and Dadu adopted as mine, has made me proud. I have learned that legions of organized people fighting a battle based on justice, advocacy, and liberty will prevail. I have learned that a little idealism goes a long way. I have learned that great men and women walk among us. I have learned to turn the other cheek. I have learned that the power of one makes a big difference. I have learned that being driven by values and emotions is a fine way to go through life. I have learned that good guys win. I have learned to savor the moment. I have learned the taste of victory, victory for us as a nation.

Barack Obama, the man we have revered and watched and supported will be the first president you remember. Oh, what a magnificent start to your civic memory!

Bird and Deal, I am humbled this day. I am proud, exuberant, hopeful. Do you remember when we sang Woody Guthrie's song in church the other day and read the storybook of those famed lyrics? "This land is your land..." Well, my boys, it's true. Woody Guthrie got it right.

I love you to the moon and back again. Or as Deal likes to say, I love you to Obama and back again.

Mommy

PS
Check out these other posts. If you've written a post about your emotions and reactions to Tuesday's historic election, please leave a link in the comments.

Leslie Morgan Steiner
Morningside Mom
Queen of Spain
Pundit Mom
'Nother Yankee in Raleigh
DC Urban Dad
Mom 101
A Mom Two Boys
Mommy Pie

A Letter to America

Dear America,

Don't let me down. It is a cold, dreary, rainy day in North Carolina. It's the kind of day that calls for tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. It's the kind of day that calls for hot chamomile tea, fluffy slippers, a chenille blanket, and a good long read. It's the kind of day you'd rather make a kitchen sink dinner than go out to the grocery store. It's the kind of day you even feel bad making the take out guy leave his van. It's the kind of day that you just know will leave you will the sniffles tomorrow.

It's the kind of day that will make a difference in our world. We will palpably feel that difference as soon as tomorrow. I promise you this.

Please, America, don't let me down.

It's easy to stay home, put up your feet, click on the TV, and bitch about how arduous and awful this election has been. It's easy to think your measly vote doesn't count and no one will even notice. People don't make strides by doing what's easy. One vote does count. In aggregate it all counts. Exercise your most magnificent right to vote. Women especially, exercise that vote armed with the knowledge of the fight it took to get us here a mere 80-some years ago, armed with the knowledge of the fate that awaits our daughters if a certain ornery old man and his renegade neocon take the White House.

In a game of Rock Paper Scissors, Hope will always kick Fear's snarky little ass.

I will not let my mind wander there for even a minute, for it is truly frightening. It would be disastrous, and that is no hyperbole.

Please, America, don't let me down.

Get off your ass, buck up and prepare for the lines, pack snacks and diversions for your kids, wait with your fellow citizens as you have the opportunity to write history. This is more than a front row seat, America, we are all given the plume to write a new story today.

Heck, in Raleigh you can even drop off your kids at Camp Obama at the St. Mary's Street HQ while you vote. Ask a neighbor to watch the kids and then reciprocate. There are no valid excuses today. We need you. Each and every one. Perhaps this post reeks of desperation and weariness. I suppose it is somewhat true. I am tired, on the verge of spent, yet I'll be pounding the pavement again today with my fellow army of volunteers who are making a real difference. I like to think that this post is also filled with the kinetic energy of hope, optimism, delight, and pride.

While rain might be cold and unpleasant and inconvenient, it brings with it the growth of new life, replenishment, rejuventaion, a reminder of the earth's cycle. The dawn of a new day is at our fingertips, America. Grasp it.

Please America, don't let me down.

Sincerely,
A Mom of 2 Boys Who Deserve to Grow Up in the Presence of Grace and Goodness

5:00 Fridays

Happy Halloween!

Today's drink is a toast to the ubiquitous October pumpkin, whether carved or painted or unadorned. This drink is a keeper that will keep you warmed up through Thanksgiving. This little sip of decadence is basically pumpkin pie in glass. A mouth shot of ReddiWip (while no one is looking) would finish this off nicely, albeit uncouthly.


Pumpkin Pie Martini
1 shot Rain organic vodka
1 ounce pumpkin butter (Get the real deal at the farmer's market if you can.)
1/2 shot part triple sec
1/2 shot simple syrup
A pinch each of cinnamon, clove, nutmeg, and ginger (Or a pinch of Pumpkin Pie Spice that's already mixed for you would do nicely.)
Garnish with grated nutmeg (Oh, if you have not tried fresh nutmeg, you have not lived. A nutmeg grater is a wonderful stocking stuffer.)

You know the deal, Regular Readers. Fill a sterling silver or stainless steel cocktail shaker with ice, add all ingredients. Shake vigorously until the outside of the shaker is frosted. You'll know it's done when your fingers feel like Flick's tongue in A Christmas Story. Strain into martini glass and garnish with that freshly grated nutmeg. Toss in a whole cinnamon stick for kicks if you like. The scent alone is heaven. If Demeter made a fragrance that smelled like this cocktail I'd bathe in it.

Happy Haunting!

Barefoot Books: Reading With Your Kids Has Never Been More Delightful

I love books. I devour them. There are not enough hours in the day for me to get through my book list. Nothing makes me prouder than to see Bird take such interest in reading and really putting his heart into learning the beauty and magic of how letters form words and words form sentences that glide us into wonderful escapes, adventures, and daydreams. I can tell that he is already learning an appreciation for words. He might be the only kindergartener who excitedly remarks when he comes upon a homonym. He is now learning about palindromes too and is so tickled that a word can be spelled the same forward and backward. Through his eyes I recall feeling that same sense of wonder when I was five. I do hope his math skills don't suffer as mine did.

Bird now reads to Deal time to time. Let me be clear; reading involves sounding out words and sounds and making up the story as he goes along. Deal loves nothing more than sitting with his side pressed into his brother's hips as close as he can physically get as he listens to a story. From afar they look like Siamese twins. That Deal must have been a furry cuddly lap dog in another life. Through Bird's lessons Deal is also learning his letters and developing a curiosity for words and books. As you can imagine, this makes me beam.

I was thrilled when the kind folks at Barefoot Books gave me the opportunity to review a couple books. Barefoot Books is an independent book publisher that was started 15 years ago by two working moms with seven children between them. The many books in their collection focus on celebrating diversity, appreciating myriad cultural traditions, nurturing a sense of curiosity, and fostering a global perspective. The company is still a grassroots organization and lives by its mission and values cemented in the early days of its inception.

I cannot tell you how wonderful it was to read something with no corresponding licensed character merchandise, computer generated animation, formulaic plot, or television counterpart.

I read My Granny Went to Market and Shopping With Dad. Both books had lovely, colorful illustrations that were vibrant, engaging, and works of art.

My Granny Went to Market was the hands down favorite of my little bunch. The illustrations are charming enough to warrant a frame and some picture hooks. If I had another copy of the book I would tear out the pages and do just that. The story is a counting story but not one of those stupid ones about ducks swimming away or putting eggs back into a nest. The premise is about a grandmother who travels the world collecting various goodies from faraway lands. It all starts with a magical flying carpet found in Istanbul (which as we know from They Might Be Giants, was once Constantinople). Nesting dolls from Russia. Paper lanterns from China. Kites from Tokyo. Drums from Kenya. It is a delightful little book that is a great introduction to global understanding for small children. It's a pretty good reminder for us grownups too.

Shopping With Dad has fun illustrations (gee, I am a sucker for illustrations) and perfectly captures the chaos of grocery shopping with a toddler in tow, especially when the grocery list calls for things like Octopus Underpants, Extra-Clean Germs, and Strong Anti-Grump Pills! Deal even referred to this story when we were at Harris Teeter this afternoon. He assured me he would not sneeze (You'll get it once you read the book.).

What I love about both books is how the authors inject a global perspective without being preachy or obvious. It is simply a snapshot of the world that I was raised in; people of many cultures living, playing, working together. The town I live in does not share the same diverse culture I enjoyed as a child so these books are a wonderful tool to give my kids a broader perspective of the world. The pictures in these books are not merely black and white; the characters represents cultures, not colors. Such is Barefoots Books' distinction.

Bird attends an International Studies school so he eats up learning about other cultures and loves gazing at the globe to see where our various family members live. Barefoot Books will be a perfect accompaniment to the curriculum he follows at school. We are going to put up a map in the play room so we can mark the cities we have visited. And if we can't make it to the many corners of the planet, we will bring those corners to our little corner.

I am adding A Calendar of Festivals, The Barefoot Book of Blessings, The Faerie's Gift, The Story of Divaali, and The Tear Thief to the boys' Christmas lists. I think we're all going to enjoy the ride.

And as a way to deal with this sour economy, you can get 30% off through November 3 if you click here www.ReadingBarefootBooks.com !

Obama Visits Raleigh to Barack the Early Vote

One of many long lines. Throngs of hopeful, patient souls waiting to see the next President of the United States of America, live in Memorex. The Melting Pot personified here today. Wow am I glad I did not drag Bird and Deal to this. Five and three year-olds are not known for their ability to stand in a line for long periods of time unless a Star Wars simulator ride or Toy Story 3D shoot 'em up game is at the end.


Me and my Twitter friend @catnc. See Mac Daddy, I am not talking to imaginary friends on Twitter. @catnc is real. This is not a Bartles & James cardboard cut out. We had just come from coffee with Edie Falco, whose vacation home is in the teeny tiny speck of a town @catnc grew up in. They totally bonded.

Barack is totally pointing to me here.


Here Barack is saying something really smart about how we will be worse off four years from now if John McCain is president. I have a visceral reaction to the mere thought of it.


Another emphatic point here. The man rocks. He simply rocks. Damn if he isn't presidential.


Farewell, Raleigh. Please vote early! Polls are open through Saturday, November 1. You can even register and vote on the same day if you vote early. In North Carolina you cannot register to vote on Election Day, November 4!


See you on November 5, Raleigh. Next time, it's Mr. President.

Dear Red States

This little knee slapper landed in my inbox, and I just had to share. Bear in mind that I live in a red state and was raised in a red state. Both of which are battlegrounds this year (NC and VA). The author of this piece is unknown according to About.com. It's tongue-firmly-planted-in-cheek funny with a good dose of snark baked in. With the snark comes a drizzle of truth.


Dear Red States:

If you manage to steal this election too we've decided we're leaving. We intend to form our own country, and we're taking the other Blue States with us. In case you aren't aware, that includes California , Hawaii , Oregon , Washington , Minnesota , Wisconsin , Michigan , Illinois and all the Northeast. We believe this split will be beneficial to the nation, and especially to the people of the new country of New California.

To sum up briefly: You get Texas , Oklahoma and all the slave states. We get stem cell research and the best beaches. We get the Statue of Liberty. You get Dollywood. We get Intel and Microsoft. You get WorldCom. We get Harvard. You get Ole' Miss. We get 85% of America 's venture capital and entrepreneurs. You get Alabama . We get two-thirds of the tax revenue, you get to make the red states pay their fair share.

Since our aggregate divorce rate is 22% lower than the Christian Coalition's, we get a bunch of happy families. You get a bunch of single moms.

Please be aware that Nuevo California will be pro-choice and anti-war, and we're going to want all our citizens back from Iraq at once. If you need people to fight, ask your evangelicals. They have kids they're apparently willing to send to their deaths for no purpose, and they don't care if you don't show pictures of their children's caskets coming home. We do wish you success in Iraq, and hope that the WMDs turn up, but we're not willing to spend our resources in Bush's Quagmire.

With the Blue States in hand, we will have firm control of 80% of the country's fresh water, more than 90% of the pineapple and lettuce, 92% of the nation's fresh fruit, 95% of America's quality wines, 90% of all cheese, 90% of the high tech industry, 95% of the corn and soybeans (thanks Iowa!), most of the U.S. low-sulfur coal, all living redwoods, sequoias and condors, all the Ivy and Seven Sister schools plus Stanford, Cal Tech and MIT.

With the Red States, on the other hand, you will have to cope with 88% of all obese Americans (and their projected health care costs), 92% of all U.S. mosquitoes, nearly 100% of the tornadoes, 90% of the hurricanes, 99% of all Southern Baptists, virtually 100% of all televangelists, Rush Limbaugh, Bob Jones University, Clemson and the University of Georgia.

We get Hollywood and Yosemite, thank you.

Additionally, 38% of those in the Red states believe Jonah was actually swallowed by a whale, 62% believe life is sacred unless we're discussing the war, the death penalty or gun laws, 44% say that evolution is only a theory, 53% that Saddam was involved in 9/11 and 61% of you crazy bastards believe you are people with higher morals then we lefties.

Finally, we're taking the good pot, too. You can have that dirt weed they grow in Mexico

Peace out,
Blue States