PROMISE OF A NEW DAY

I never blog about anything but my family and the dumb or silly stuff we say or do - but on this day, a day after a history-making presidency was decided by the hopeful, overwhelming majority voice of America, I have to say what I am optimistic about once again.

In addition, I am so proud that Americans didn't buy into the hype that was the "great White Hope" John McCain and that blithering idiot Sarah Palin purported to be and turned out in RECORD NUMBERS at the polls to basically say, "We are tired of being broke, and having our jobs outsourced, and having the wealthy given unecessary tax breaks while the middle class can never get ahead. We are TIRED of the Republican regime and the damage to the middle class that the Bush administration is responsible for. We are ready for change." Here are some of the things I am hopeful for in the next four years:

-I want my brother, who will graduate from West Point in May, NOT to have to go to Iraq or Afghanistan. Bring our troops home!

-I want my mutual funds and 401K to be worth more than the paper they are printed on once again

-I want my last few jobs back from the people in India who have them now

-I am eager to be able to buy gasoline without using a credit card because it's $90 to fill my gas tank

-I want my house to regain the $100k in value it lost over the last two years

-I would love it if my son could have a president in his generation that he could look up to, his own John F. Kennedy, a President who will not be afraid to stand up for ALL Americans, not just the wealthy, not just the elite. A President who will make my son know in his heart that he can be ANYTHING he wants to be, and who will inspire my child to love his country and love what it means to be an American.

I know this is a more of a wish list than anything else and that nothing happens overnight -but at least Obama recognizes and acknowledges that THERE IS A PROBLEM with outsourcing the American workforce to countries like Malaysia, the Philippines, and India. I don't like my private health information in the hands of the entire global community. I don't like the fact that when I take a job these days, my average longevity is more like two years rather than ten, due to the lucrative tax breaks that outsourcing provides businesses with. Will Obama come up with an overnight solution? No - but he acknowledges the problem while the Republicans have stood by term after term pretty much endorsing the practice.

I want our new America to be more like the OLD America - hopeful, fair-minded, motivated, and not afraid of change. John McCain reminds me of an old crabby guy in the neighborhood who chases kids off his lawn - do we need that outlook when we have all the problems of the war in Iraq and our failing economy? We need optimism, we need hope. And that came in the package of a man of mixed racial heritage who showed us ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE.

My child woke up to see Barack Obama and his family on the stage, a replay of the acceptance speech he gave last night. When I told him he was our new President, he clapped and cheered. He knew we were hoping for this change.

As my friend, the great writer, Queen of Everything, had on her blog yesterday - "Dwell in possibility", one of my favorite quotes - I choose to DWELL IN POSSIBILITY. It is a new day, America! Let us embrace the hope and optimism of yesterday and make it ours today.

Happy Birthday Mom!

How do you repay the woman who gave brith to you when her birthday comes around?

For my mom, I had the perfect night planned out - my husband would make his wonderful meat sauce and spaghetti, I contributed homemade sausage from Romanelli's and a rum cake from Baker Wee...I gave her an amazing bottle of wine with a story behind it from a movie we took her to last month (Not to mention the wine is a FABULOUS vintage), and my brother and his girlfriend got her a massage and a dozen roses.

You would think I would have quit while we were ahead.

But, alas, no, I also thought we should all, as a family, go to a local haunted house since it was so close to Halloween - what could be more fun!

As we drove to the haunted house, I realized my purse with the cash I pulled out earlier was in my truck, still in our garage. We had taken Mike's truck to the haunted house. We called my mom, who was in HER truck, to tell her we were stoppping at the ATM for more cash. Not to worry, my mom assured us -she had cash on her. Great, I thought - her birthday and she is paying for our entry to the haunted house.

Should have quit while we were still sort of ahead.

When we got to the haunted house, we were greeted by a friendly looking woman who owned the house, who asked us if we wanted the PG or R rated version of the spooking. "R! WE WANT THE R! PLEASE MOM!" pipes up the six and 11/12's year old at my elbow. My mom frowned and asked the lady, "Do they TOUCH you? I can't stand when people touch me." The woman looked concerned and I quickly said "We'll do the R version, I'll stay behind you so any touching will happen to ME not to you. Come on! Let's go!" I thought, HOW SCARY CAN IT BE?? I mean seriously, it's teenagers dressed up, right, the scariest thing about them is their vernacular and an occasional really short cameltoe skirt. As we waited our turn, I heard an occasional chainsaw, and smelled gasoline. Wait - they are actual CHAIN SAWS? But no time for second thoughts, because a reaper appeared to escort us to our doom.

Say it with me - yep - should quit while we were ahead.

Instead of me keeping my promise and being the "Rear man" in our line, as soon as people bounded out of the cornstalks with chainsaws and lunged at us, I used my mother as a human shield to hide behind - and the chainsaw people - yep-you guessed it - ran up to us and TOUCHED my mother with a chainsaw. Anyone who knows my mom and her "personal space" quirk would have shuddered at this point for the kid in the Jason mask carrying the chainsaw. But - My mom was a good sport! She pulled me behind her again and we proceeded through the cornfield to a bridge over what was a pool in the summer only to have the shit scared out of us by alligators under our feet and a skeleton popping out of the water. The scariest thing was this huge TROLL At the end of the bridge. My brother, Mike, and Max all went past with no problem but when me and my mom went to disembark from the bridge, the troll would advance toward us and we would shriek and run back onto the bridge. Finally, I bolted forward, forgetting I was holding my mom's arm. In one horrifying motion, my mom catapulted past me, rolled three times on the ground, and landed on her butt in a heap by the troll.

The scary music literally stopped, you could hear a frigging pin drop as the place went still - Kyle, Mike, and I tried pulling my mom up, (Oddly she was light as a feather when I flung her through the air)and we truly thought she was a goner. I thought at the LEAST she broken a hip. Of course I felt terrible, it was all my fault. WHO FLINGS THEIR OWN MOTHER???

Now, bleeding, limping, and embarrassed,my mom (SO the good sport here) assures us she wants to finish the tour and limps through the rest of the house with us. I feel obligated to point out that this haunted house was very well done and the proceeds all go to charity. It's thescarekrow.com for those of you in AZ who may read this. (Yes both of you)

Upon exiting, we realize my mom is bleeding profusely from her ankle where a whole huge patch of skin has been sheared off, and her other leg is also skinned at the knee. And when I say "profusely bleeding" I mean, the people who run the haunted house were a) glad we didn't sue them and b)will find multiple pools of blood and possible small pieces of my mother's leg out by their troll set-up.

Once we got back to my mom's house and set her up in an ACE bandage, and got the bleeding somewhat controlled, we were actually able to giggle about what will surely go down in the annals of history as the WORST BIRTHDAY EVER. She was so great about it. But we still all agreed that I defninitely tossed the old bird through the air, a feat which I cannot beleive I performed, even in terror, adn Mike was quite happy to report that my mom looked "just like a movie stuntman" when she rolled on the ground a few times before we were able to help her up. I think he likes ME being the idiot for a change.

So - Happy Birthday Mom. Wonder how to top this NEXT year!

Max Kalka, Master Conversationalist

OK Max is getting to be pretty smart now. At six and a half, he is as clever as some gorwnups I deal with every day. Below are some snatches of conversations he's initiated lately. BLINK! They grow up that fast.

MAX: Mom - if I were a moth, would you still love me? (Knowing my deathly fear of moths)
MOM: Well I would be a mommy moth and you would be my baby moth so of course I would love you. I would love you even if you were a moth and I weren't.

MAX: (to Mike) How old should I be when I get a girlfriend? And what color should she be?
MIKE: Ask your mother.

MAX: (to Mike, entering a convenience store, noticing a "no smoking" sign) How come you can't smoke here?
MIKE: I guess because it's icky.
MAX: Then how come they sell cigarettes?

MAX: (mad at Mommy, who did not let him do something he wanted to do) Well, only NICE mommies let their kids do that, anyway!
MOM: Oh, yeah, and I'm a mean, ugly, old witch of a mommy!!
MAX: Aww, Mommy, you aren't old!!

MOM (to Max, who needs to be in bed): Come on Max, you're gonna get Daddy mad, he needs to get to bed early for work.
MAX: So? you make Daddy mad ALL the time.


I love love love this boy. He is so funny. He makes our life so amazing day in and day out. We are so lucky to have him. I hope he never loses his inquisitiveness or quick mind.

Max's Witty Repartee this week

We were watching the news the other morning over cereal and that story about the little girl in Virginia who got stung by a scorpion at WalMart came on. Max watched the entire segment, and then said to me, "Now isn't that a little bit ridiculous?" and I said, "What?" and he replied, "That they put THAT story on the news. Ridiculous, don't you think?"

Max was bathing tonight and I washed his back for him as I usually do. As I washed, I noticed two small scratched areas at the base of his spine and asked if he had gotten hurt, because he had marks on his back. "no, I've been itching a lot lately. I'm having FLEAS."

I think he sees too many flea collar commercials. He has said before that he needs a flea collar. I dont think he realizes they are limited to dogs/cats.

CMT TORTURE

Max puts off going to bed by watching TV - he will retire to his room at like 7:30 but winds up watching Cartoon Network (or Cartoon Neckwork as Max pronounces it)till way late and it's impossible to get him to sleep by that time.

So tonight Mike tried a different tactic. When he put Max to bed, Max of course asked to watch TV. Mike replied, sure, but you can only watch the Country Music Channel. He even took Max's remote so he could not change the channel.

It's been 45 minutes and Max is STILL crying.

One can only wonder what kind of serial killer is created this way.

WIFE SWAP!

Mornings are HORRIBLE with Max. He is grumpy, hateful, and uncooperative. I have tried being nice, funny, firm, stern, ignoring him, physically pulling him around the house to do his morning stuff, and it is just always the same. The kid HATES mornings. To say he is not a morning person is a gross understatement.

So today he was particularly bastardly, and we were late getting out of the house, and on the way to school he accused me of "only thinking of myself" because I made him hurry up to get into the car.

THAT did it. Don't ever say that to a MOM - the person who has done nothing BUT think of her child(ren) since she gave birth!!

I gave him such a piece of my mind. I told him all sorts of stuff, reminded him of "who played in the mud with you when you wanted to play in mud? I even MADE mud and THEN played in it with you! Do you think I like mud? Or like to play in mud?? Was I thinking of myself then?" and eventually told him to be quiet and not say ONE WORD till we got to the school.

We rode the rest of the way to school in stony silence, Max looking angrily out his window, and when we pulled up to the school, I sighed and put the car in park. As soon as the car stopped moving, I heard his mean little voice:

"I wish we could do a wife swap!"

whatever.

GYM TORTURE

Why?

Why must I drag my large white ass to the gym, heave my gym bag into my locker, climb onto a machine where I am fairly certain that no one will have a bird's eye view of my jiggling buttocks as I fight cardiac arrest on the elliptical machine, and finally set up my water bottle and IPOD perfectly, and resign myself to the fact that I will be working out for the next 30 minutes to the fact that my relationship with food has gotten me into this position, ONLY TO FIND MYSELF STARING AT THE GYM TV WHICH HAS THE FOOD NETWORK RUNNING 24/7.

Don't they know this is like porn for fat people?

The skinny bastards who run the gym are, indeed, sadists.