I've been waiting for this day for almost two whole years. It is the first official day of the summer that my baby is old enough to be some fun. Time to start living according to the Well, It's Not Going to Kill Him rulebook on the weekends and squeezing as much fun into mornings and evenings as possible during the week. Anyone up to get some ice cream?
I woke up at a quarter to five this morning, to a little voice in the next room shouting "Mama! Mama!", not one full day after my mom asked me if Jake was calling for me in the mornings. I never thought about it, I just assumed there would be crying until he is old enough to get out of his own bed and into ours. So yes, I guess there are some little surprises to motherhood, and they are mighty nice.
On a different note, I started attending a class yesterday sponsored by the Philadelphia Department for Human Services and taught by the Institute for Family Professionals. It is the pre-requisite to all the other Teaching Teachers how to Teach/ Nurturing the Nurturer/ Parenting the Parents courses that they offer. I would like to say that I am taking it for professional development and career advancement and all that other crap but really I'm taking it for use in my own home. I know a lot about babies, a lot about really bad teenagers, and next to nothing about kids in between. I guess I should learn considering that I will own one soon enough.
5.25.2007
5.24.2007
mommy-proofing your baby
I'll be the first to admit that at this stage in the game I'll let Jake run around and slam cupboards and drawers on his fingers and take a tumble or two off the couch just so he learns that there are natural consequences in the world that sometimes aren't so pleasant. Jake seems to be a once bitten, twice shy baby so he isn't constantly hurting himself on the same thing all the time.
Of course the few cleaning supplies I have are under lock, the outlets are all plugged, sharp knives and pointy things are kept out of Jake's reach, we have a smoke-free home, and even I don't know where the guns are (smart move, Dave). There are no buckets of water lying around, we keep the brat away from the toilet and stairs and his crib sheet is tightly secured around his firm mattress.
People often ask me if I am surprised about what motherhood is really like, or if I do things differently than I planned to. They are really interested about how I do things, being a professional in the parenting industry and all. Everyone knows I plan things down to the most minor detail, then I make a Plan B, a Plan C, and usually a Plan D, just in case. I usually have all bases covered no matter what because I'm neurotic and I need to have perceived control over every single thing that goes on around me.
I answer that I am thirty years old, I have several friends who have children, I work in public health, and I know how to read. There aren't too many surprises. I was truly amazed at how much a person can do on so little sleep. I find it absolutely incredible that I could love someone just a bit more than I love my cat. And I am extremely pleased to know that I can still be overly social and involved in everyone else's lives while trying to manage my own and my baby's.
I planned to breast feed for a year, and that didn't work out. But, I got over that and everything else is pretty much going according to plan. There isn't too much solid literature out there for parenting the under-two set, but there are guidelines about food, activities, sleep, and medication. Out there in the real world, there are two schools of thought to parenting the little ones:
There is the "Go Ahead and Do It, It isn't Going to Kill the Baby" approach. This includes feeding your kid pudding and cakes and juice and soda and chicken fingers and cereal in the bottle and Burger King and keeping them up past bedtime and forgoing a routine and keeping a diaper on a bit too long and giving them a bit more Benedryl to fall asleep and Tylenol for everything and basically doing anything and everything that isn't putting your kid six feet under but isn't really doing them any favors either.
Then there is the "Before Going Ahead and Doing It, Make Sure it is Good for the Baby" school. I subscribe to this curriculum. What is a better snack, string cheese or a cookie? Both are self-feedable and easy. Quick... better lunch... a burger with fries or a peanut butter and jelly with a yogurt?
We all know what is better for our kids. We all know deep inside that the doctor and is probably right and our mother is probably dated in her advice, if not completely wrong. Parents tend to go with what is easier or cheaper than with what is right or healthy for their children. Parents want to be smarter than doctors. They save money buying Chips Ahoy instead of a sixer of YoBaby, but it isn't the right thing to do. It's easier to let the kid stay up late and watch what ever it is that you are watching at eleven o'clock (Skinamax) than it is to put him to bed and listen to him whine, but it isn't the right thing to do. Top 40 Hits are so much more entertaining for mom than Shari, Lois, and Braham or whatever kids listen to nowadays is, CSI keeps dad's attention longer than Sesame Street, and we all know that ice cream tastes better than brussel sprouts. Unless you're Jake. Then vegetables and cheese are the best and the rest is junk. Sucker. He will believe anything I tell him.
No one said this would be easy, folks. Get up off your expanding arse and do something good for your baby. And for yourself while you're at it. And if you do, I promise that you and your brat can have a bowl of ice cream or a cookie after your done. Or you can be good and pick a book, a sticker, or a little toy out of the prize drawer in my desk.
Of course the few cleaning supplies I have are under lock, the outlets are all plugged, sharp knives and pointy things are kept out of Jake's reach, we have a smoke-free home, and even I don't know where the guns are (smart move, Dave). There are no buckets of water lying around, we keep the brat away from the toilet and stairs and his crib sheet is tightly secured around his firm mattress.
People often ask me if I am surprised about what motherhood is really like, or if I do things differently than I planned to. They are really interested about how I do things, being a professional in the parenting industry and all. Everyone knows I plan things down to the most minor detail, then I make a Plan B, a Plan C, and usually a Plan D, just in case. I usually have all bases covered no matter what because I'm neurotic and I need to have perceived control over every single thing that goes on around me.
I answer that I am thirty years old, I have several friends who have children, I work in public health, and I know how to read. There aren't too many surprises. I was truly amazed at how much a person can do on so little sleep. I find it absolutely incredible that I could love someone just a bit more than I love my cat. And I am extremely pleased to know that I can still be overly social and involved in everyone else's lives while trying to manage my own and my baby's.
I planned to breast feed for a year, and that didn't work out. But, I got over that and everything else is pretty much going according to plan. There isn't too much solid literature out there for parenting the under-two set, but there are guidelines about food, activities, sleep, and medication. Out there in the real world, there are two schools of thought to parenting the little ones:
There is the "Go Ahead and Do It, It isn't Going to Kill the Baby" approach. This includes feeding your kid pudding and cakes and juice and soda and chicken fingers and cereal in the bottle and Burger King and keeping them up past bedtime and forgoing a routine and keeping a diaper on a bit too long and giving them a bit more Benedryl to fall asleep and Tylenol for everything and basically doing anything and everything that isn't putting your kid six feet under but isn't really doing them any favors either.
Then there is the "Before Going Ahead and Doing It, Make Sure it is Good for the Baby" school. I subscribe to this curriculum. What is a better snack, string cheese or a cookie? Both are self-feedable and easy. Quick... better lunch... a burger with fries or a peanut butter and jelly with a yogurt?
We all know what is better for our kids. We all know deep inside that the doctor and is probably right and our mother is probably dated in her advice, if not completely wrong. Parents tend to go with what is easier or cheaper than with what is right or healthy for their children. Parents want to be smarter than doctors. They save money buying Chips Ahoy instead of a sixer of YoBaby, but it isn't the right thing to do. It's easier to let the kid stay up late and watch what ever it is that you are watching at eleven o'clock (Skinamax) than it is to put him to bed and listen to him whine, but it isn't the right thing to do. Top 40 Hits are so much more entertaining for mom than Shari, Lois, and Braham or whatever kids listen to nowadays is, CSI keeps dad's attention longer than Sesame Street, and we all know that ice cream tastes better than brussel sprouts. Unless you're Jake. Then vegetables and cheese are the best and the rest is junk. Sucker. He will believe anything I tell him.
No one said this would be easy, folks. Get up off your expanding arse and do something good for your baby. And for yourself while you're at it. And if you do, I promise that you and your brat can have a bowl of ice cream or a cookie after your done. Or you can be good and pick a book, a sticker, or a little toy out of the prize drawer in my desk.
5.21.2007
sbd
Just back from the Ear Nose and Throat doctor, and it turns out a broken nose is the least of my problems.
The CAT scan revealed that I have what is called "Silent Sinus Syndrome". It is completely unrelated to the break, and it would have likely not been caught until my face fell apart if Jake didn't ram his big head into me.
Basically, no oxygen is getting to my right maxillary sinus so it is dying inside the vacuum of my head, making my eyeball sink into my skull because there is nothing holding it up in my eyehole. I thought my eyes seemed a little bit sunken in since having Jake, but I tied it into the whole problem I have had with keeping weight on (I know, poor me. Call the waaamubulance) since getting pregnant. Never did I think that my face was failing me.
I didn't get print outs of my CAT scan, but after doing some independent internet research I found a site with pics of exactly what the inside of my head looks like. Pretty much like the brain of a stroke victim. All black and cold and void of vitality, waiting for the plug to be pulled. I feel it is important to note that my face looks nothing like the drawing of that guy. If it did, I would sell my house and move under the bridge and make a living collecting tolls from billy goats.
The doctor said it is very rare, and every symptom that I complained of regarding my nose is a key symptom of SSS. The blurry vision, difficulty breathing, nausea, tooth pain, and dark circles under my eyes made him think of this when I was in the office, but he didn't believe he would ever run across someone who had this twice in his career. Leave it to me. I never disappoint when it comes to medical oddities.
I thought about getting a second opinion before letting anyone dig around in my head, but after seeing the scan, talking to the doctor, and poking around in our medical library at work, it seems that they hit my diagnosis dead on. I scheduled with an eye doctor to do a pre-op screening (the earliest appointment was June 13) then they will schedule my surgery to open up some passages that will allow my sinuses to drain and air to get in there. They will be doing the procedure on both sides of my face since it looks like I have a touch of it on the left side too. No one seems to concerned about my eye falling down into the back of my throat over the course of a month so I guess I'll come out of this looking normal because they will just suck out all the broken eye bone pieces (they broke due to the vacuum suction going on in my head) and replace it with some false eye bones. Totally normal. Ish. What's that old saying about not being able to shine something or other?
And bonus! After the surgery my sinuses won't be the grossest things in the house anymore, as it should clear up the chronic sinusitis that I (and everyone near and dear to me) suffer from. I made Dave puke a little with the colossal loogey I spit in the sink this morning while he was brushing his teeth. It was awesome.
I swear to God I'm not a hypochondriac nor a truly sickly person. Strange things happen to me. It's part of my charm or something
I've always joked that I'm made up of spare parts and salvageables that sometimes don't always work together the way they should. I'm like a walking, talking, rebuilt, rehashed '76 Chevy with vinyl seats, shag floors, an AM radio, and life-like wood paneling on the sides.
Any takers?
The CAT scan revealed that I have what is called "Silent Sinus Syndrome". It is completely unrelated to the break, and it would have likely not been caught until my face fell apart if Jake didn't ram his big head into me.
Basically, no oxygen is getting to my right maxillary sinus so it is dying inside the vacuum of my head, making my eyeball sink into my skull because there is nothing holding it up in my eyehole. I thought my eyes seemed a little bit sunken in since having Jake, but I tied it into the whole problem I have had with keeping weight on (I know, poor me. Call the waaamubulance) since getting pregnant. Never did I think that my face was failing me.
I didn't get print outs of my CAT scan, but after doing some independent internet research I found a site with pics of exactly what the inside of my head looks like. Pretty much like the brain of a stroke victim. All black and cold and void of vitality, waiting for the plug to be pulled. I feel it is important to note that my face looks nothing like the drawing of that guy. If it did, I would sell my house and move under the bridge and make a living collecting tolls from billy goats.
The doctor said it is very rare, and every symptom that I complained of regarding my nose is a key symptom of SSS. The blurry vision, difficulty breathing, nausea, tooth pain, and dark circles under my eyes made him think of this when I was in the office, but he didn't believe he would ever run across someone who had this twice in his career. Leave it to me. I never disappoint when it comes to medical oddities.
I thought about getting a second opinion before letting anyone dig around in my head, but after seeing the scan, talking to the doctor, and poking around in our medical library at work, it seems that they hit my diagnosis dead on. I scheduled with an eye doctor to do a pre-op screening (the earliest appointment was June 13) then they will schedule my surgery to open up some passages that will allow my sinuses to drain and air to get in there. They will be doing the procedure on both sides of my face since it looks like I have a touch of it on the left side too. No one seems to concerned about my eye falling down into the back of my throat over the course of a month so I guess I'll come out of this looking normal because they will just suck out all the broken eye bone pieces (they broke due to the vacuum suction going on in my head) and replace it with some false eye bones. Totally normal. Ish. What's that old saying about not being able to shine something or other?
And bonus! After the surgery my sinuses won't be the grossest things in the house anymore, as it should clear up the chronic sinusitis that I (and everyone near and dear to me) suffer from. I made Dave puke a little with the colossal loogey I spit in the sink this morning while he was brushing his teeth. It was awesome.
I swear to God I'm not a hypochondriac nor a truly sickly person. Strange things happen to me. It's part of my charm or something
I've always joked that I'm made up of spare parts and salvageables that sometimes don't always work together the way they should. I'm like a walking, talking, rebuilt, rehashed '76 Chevy with vinyl seats, shag floors, an AM radio, and life-like wood paneling on the sides.
Any takers?
5.20.2007
housework
I was both inspired and relieved to see that I'm not the only one who cleans like this...
All coats get hung on a hook
Shoes and booze line up nicely to get upstairs where they rightfully belong
Eventually. Don't judge me by the lack of order on my second floor. You have no business up there. And if you do, make it quick and don't turn on any lights.
And that isn't a pile of garbage...
It is a learning corner where Jake gets to explore everyday life stuff.
All coats get hung on a hook
Shoes and booze line up nicely to get upstairs where they rightfully belong
Eventually. Don't judge me by the lack of order on my second floor. You have no business up there. And if you do, make it quick and don't turn on any lights.
And that isn't a pile of garbage...
It is a learning corner where Jake gets to explore everyday life stuff.
nose job
Super cheese-o shot of my old nose
And a view of the new one, courtesy of Dr. Jake.
Not bad, right? I love it, and I would recommend the good doctor to anyone. It filled out a little and isn't so slopey and babyish. You probably can't even tell the difference, it's so natural. If only he did such a good job on my boobs. They are a bit botched thanks to the same guy.
And a view of the new one, courtesy of Dr. Jake.
Not bad, right? I love it, and I would recommend the good doctor to anyone. It filled out a little and isn't so slopey and babyish. You probably can't even tell the difference, it's so natural. If only he did such a good job on my boobs. They are a bit botched thanks to the same guy.
5.17.2007
14 months = 426 days
I haven't been keeping up with the monthly updates. It seems that Jake can do everything and anything and there aren't any new tricks to report. So, here is a rundown, starting at the tip of his head to the bottom of his feet.
Jake seems to miss his long curls, especially at bedtime. Instead of curling his hair around his fingers to fall asleep he rubs the back of his head like a worn out bureaucrat. It's a sad, really. I hope it isn't an indication of things to come. I miss the long hair too, but it's been nearly a week since anyone asked me how old my little girl is.
The eyes blink, the nose runs, the mouth chomps and squeals and blabbers and sings and imitates and acts as our second vacuum cleaner. The boy has a pretty impressive vocabulary, but since he is the smartest and most beautiful baby on Earth I'm not surprised. There are only six teeth in there, four on top and two on the bottom. I think he is a little bit behind there, but I guess the longer they are in the better. It doesn't seem to stop him from eating everything. He is allowed everything but seafood and junk. Favorites are still beans, hummus, bananas, peanut butter, applesauce, and yogurt. Treats are graham crackers and Nilla wafers if we are on the go, fruit and cheese if we are at home. We don't really eat much meat, but if we do I don't get any complaints. By we I mean Jake and I. I have a sneaking suspicion that Dave manages to get in his fair share of the flesh before 5pm.
Luckily (or unluckily) I don't have one of those kids who demands that everything put in his mouth is put in there by him. Feeding times are quick and clean, and Jake just sits there with his beak open like a baby bird. Jake is doing well with the fork, but can't seem to stab at things well enough to get them on there by himself. Forget the spoon unless he is eating something that will stick to it. Dave and I rarely ever eat food that requires utensils so Jake isn't overly excited to use them himself. Every meal at the M's is like a luau. We just jam our grubby little hands in the pizza box/cheese plate/sandwich wrapper/granola bar box/fruit basket and cram whatever we come up with in our mouths. Nothing but class at our house.
We have had a bottle-free house for a few months now, and Jake is a pro at the sippy cup. He's mastered the straw which helps at restaurants. Jake gets whole milk, water, and toddler formula at our house. I know I can skip the formula, but I like that he begins and ends each day with a glass of pre-packaged vitamins and minerals. If you remember, I am the Queen of the Carnation Instant Breakfast. I like to force nutrition down my own throat by the glassful and in pill form, I can't be bothered with well-rounded meals. I'm too busy making sure I'm giving Jake a balanced plate of healthiness and saving my little corner of the world from bad parenting practices. I don't give Jake any fruit juice, but I know he gets it from other people. As long as it's watered down I don't care.
Jake loves his belly button, his boys, and his boobs. Next time you see him, say "Where's your boobs, Jake?" and he will grab them and run around in circles giggling. I don't know who taught him about boobs or why, but it is hilarious, and goes over really well at parties.
"Ring Around the Rosy" and "Itsy Bitsy Spider" are big hits around here. I'll try to get him on tape doing "Rings". He baby-sings while he spins himself in circles and falls down all by himself, he doesn't even care if anyone else is in the room. Other crowd pleasers are the monster face (bottom teeth stuck out and lots of growling) and declaring a touchdown (arms up, scream "down"). Both are tricks that his Pop Pop M. taught him.
Naked time is the best time of the day, but Jake is pretty good about getting and staying dressed. He is wearing 18 month sized shirts and 12 month sized shorts. It is pretty hot out so we don't have to struggle with pants these days. The 12 monthers fit like capris and the 18 monthers sag at the waist. Poor kid can't win. Shoes are sized at 4, but we don't bother with them too often.
I'm sure everyone thinks this about their kid, but I'm sure Jake is one of the most social babies I have ever come across. Strangers are just friends that have yet to be made and are always, always way more interesting than mom and dad. Jake runs and kisses all the other moms when they come to pick up their brat from day care, and is so happy to see someone pass him on the street that it can actually be a little uncomfortable for everyone involved. Except Jake. He loves it. Nothing weirds him out. Not even people sitting on benches at the playground who don't seem to have any kids of their own on the swings. Especially if they are eating something. This could be a problem in the future. The nice thing is that I can dump him off at your house if I have something to do and he won't make a peep about me leaving. So, I'll be there at four on Saturday. I'll be sure to pack a few toys.
Jake is going to his first Phillies game tonight. Wish us luck.
Did I mention that dogs are the most awesome things ever?!?! the bigger the better. Little dogs are cats, and are called out as such on the street. Jake and Bailey pal around a lot, but I think they are really just satisfying their own unending needs for attention rather than actually being in love with each other. Altruism doesn't ring true for cats and babies. Or social workers, based on the conversation taking place in the next cube over. I better go and uphold humanity on my own, it certainly isn't getting done over there.
Jake seems to miss his long curls, especially at bedtime. Instead of curling his hair around his fingers to fall asleep he rubs the back of his head like a worn out bureaucrat. It's a sad, really. I hope it isn't an indication of things to come. I miss the long hair too, but it's been nearly a week since anyone asked me how old my little girl is.
The eyes blink, the nose runs, the mouth chomps and squeals and blabbers and sings and imitates and acts as our second vacuum cleaner. The boy has a pretty impressive vocabulary, but since he is the smartest and most beautiful baby on Earth I'm not surprised. There are only six teeth in there, four on top and two on the bottom. I think he is a little bit behind there, but I guess the longer they are in the better. It doesn't seem to stop him from eating everything. He is allowed everything but seafood and junk. Favorites are still beans, hummus, bananas, peanut butter, applesauce, and yogurt. Treats are graham crackers and Nilla wafers if we are on the go, fruit and cheese if we are at home. We don't really eat much meat, but if we do I don't get any complaints. By we I mean Jake and I. I have a sneaking suspicion that Dave manages to get in his fair share of the flesh before 5pm.
Luckily (or unluckily) I don't have one of those kids who demands that everything put in his mouth is put in there by him. Feeding times are quick and clean, and Jake just sits there with his beak open like a baby bird. Jake is doing well with the fork, but can't seem to stab at things well enough to get them on there by himself. Forget the spoon unless he is eating something that will stick to it. Dave and I rarely ever eat food that requires utensils so Jake isn't overly excited to use them himself. Every meal at the M's is like a luau. We just jam our grubby little hands in the pizza box/cheese plate/sandwich wrapper/granola bar box/fruit basket and cram whatever we come up with in our mouths. Nothing but class at our house.
We have had a bottle-free house for a few months now, and Jake is a pro at the sippy cup. He's mastered the straw which helps at restaurants. Jake gets whole milk, water, and toddler formula at our house. I know I can skip the formula, but I like that he begins and ends each day with a glass of pre-packaged vitamins and minerals. If you remember, I am the Queen of the Carnation Instant Breakfast. I like to force nutrition down my own throat by the glassful and in pill form, I can't be bothered with well-rounded meals. I'm too busy making sure I'm giving Jake a balanced plate of healthiness and saving my little corner of the world from bad parenting practices. I don't give Jake any fruit juice, but I know he gets it from other people. As long as it's watered down I don't care.
Jake loves his belly button, his boys, and his boobs. Next time you see him, say "Where's your boobs, Jake?" and he will grab them and run around in circles giggling. I don't know who taught him about boobs or why, but it is hilarious, and goes over really well at parties.
"Ring Around the Rosy" and "Itsy Bitsy Spider" are big hits around here. I'll try to get him on tape doing "Rings". He baby-sings while he spins himself in circles and falls down all by himself, he doesn't even care if anyone else is in the room. Other crowd pleasers are the monster face (bottom teeth stuck out and lots of growling) and declaring a touchdown (arms up, scream "down"). Both are tricks that his Pop Pop M. taught him.
Naked time is the best time of the day, but Jake is pretty good about getting and staying dressed. He is wearing 18 month sized shirts and 12 month sized shorts. It is pretty hot out so we don't have to struggle with pants these days. The 12 monthers fit like capris and the 18 monthers sag at the waist. Poor kid can't win. Shoes are sized at 4, but we don't bother with them too often.
I'm sure everyone thinks this about their kid, but I'm sure Jake is one of the most social babies I have ever come across. Strangers are just friends that have yet to be made and are always, always way more interesting than mom and dad. Jake runs and kisses all the other moms when they come to pick up their brat from day care, and is so happy to see someone pass him on the street that it can actually be a little uncomfortable for everyone involved. Except Jake. He loves it. Nothing weirds him out. Not even people sitting on benches at the playground who don't seem to have any kids of their own on the swings. Especially if they are eating something. This could be a problem in the future. The nice thing is that I can dump him off at your house if I have something to do and he won't make a peep about me leaving. So, I'll be there at four on Saturday. I'll be sure to pack a few toys.
Jake is going to his first Phillies game tonight. Wish us luck.
Did I mention that dogs are the most awesome things ever?!?! the bigger the better. Little dogs are cats, and are called out as such on the street. Jake and Bailey pal around a lot, but I think they are really just satisfying their own unending needs for attention rather than actually being in love with each other. Altruism doesn't ring true for cats and babies. Or social workers, based on the conversation taking place in the next cube over. I better go and uphold humanity on my own, it certainly isn't getting done over there.
5.14.2007
it's only hair
Tired of picking lint, stickers, snot, oats, leaves, knots, and small deciduous forest creatures out of Jake's mop, I thought it best to get him shorn for the summer.
I prefer the longer hair, but it was time. He had some serious split ends and dry, damaged hair that high-tech pro-V formulas couldn't even begin to fix. Cradle cap persisted despite the fact he is about to be 14 months old. You try rinsing out a rat's nest. Residue will always reign supreme.
I promise to post a few 'after' pictures soon. Very soon lest it grows back over night.
See the shiner? I didn't do that, I swear. It was like that when I picked him up from his grandparents' house.
I prefer the longer hair, but it was time. He had some serious split ends and dry, damaged hair that high-tech pro-V formulas couldn't even begin to fix. Cradle cap persisted despite the fact he is about to be 14 months old. You try rinsing out a rat's nest. Residue will always reign supreme.
I promise to post a few 'after' pictures soon. Very soon lest it grows back over night.
See the shiner? I didn't do that, I swear. It was like that when I picked him up from his grandparents' house.
5.13.2007
schmuther's day
No need to call or send a card today, every one of the past 422 days of my life has been Mother's Day.
5.06.2007
all are welcome
I keep politics and religion out of this blog, but something is going on in California this morning that has been botheringme more than my broken face.
A church is voting this morning on whether to allow a registered sex offender into the congregation. The man agreed to be escorted at all times on the grounds and the church prides itself as being a very small, very tight-knit community that is also "open, affirming, and inclusive" to everyone in the greater Carlsbad area. Tight-knit and inclusive, eh? Interesting.
I'm imagining that since these are good Christian people they believe in letting God be the judge and loving thy neighbor and forgiveness and all that whodoo.
So, what is the problem with allowing a man who has admitted his crime, sought help, rotted in jail, and sat in mental institutions to seek some solace in his life through his religion? Why is this even allowed to be an issue eligible for debate?
In my career as a bad guy wrangler I have encountered hundreds of scams that child molesters come up with to be closer to kids. Parks, schools, churches, recreation centers, and shopping malls are notorious hangouts for these guys. Because I know of the dangers out there, I believe that it is a parent's responsibility to ensure the safety of their children at all times. You can't rely on the police, the schools, and the community to protect your brat.
I wonder do they let this guy shop at the K-mart while junior browses toys to keep him out of mom's hair so she can try on bras? Do they let him run into the gas station for a pack of smokes where sister pays while daddy pumps (boy does that sound bad considering the nature of this post), does this man rent a house in a neighborhood where kiddos play outside until the streetlights come on, does he grab some milk from the 7-11 where the kids spend a few quarters on candy and sneak a look through titty magazines while hiding behind the Frito Lay rack, and is he allowed to drive his car down a public street past bus stops and school yards? I'm sure. So, why can't he come and get some God in him once a week? Last I reckoned, church time was family time. It is one of the few times a week that all the good mommies and well-behaved daddies are tending to their little flock, no? I'm anxiously awaiting the outcome of the church vote this afternoon.
I say let the Goddamn guy go to fucking church you bunch of asshole hypocrites. I'm going to throw $20 in the swear jar and check the news to see if these douche bags made a WWJDecide? decision about this yet.
$25.
A church is voting this morning on whether to allow a registered sex offender into the congregation. The man agreed to be escorted at all times on the grounds and the church prides itself as being a very small, very tight-knit community that is also "open, affirming, and inclusive" to everyone in the greater Carlsbad area. Tight-knit and inclusive, eh? Interesting.
I'm imagining that since these are good Christian people they believe in letting God be the judge and loving thy neighbor and forgiveness and all that whodoo.
So, what is the problem with allowing a man who has admitted his crime, sought help, rotted in jail, and sat in mental institutions to seek some solace in his life through his religion? Why is this even allowed to be an issue eligible for debate?
In my career as a bad guy wrangler I have encountered hundreds of scams that child molesters come up with to be closer to kids. Parks, schools, churches, recreation centers, and shopping malls are notorious hangouts for these guys. Because I know of the dangers out there, I believe that it is a parent's responsibility to ensure the safety of their children at all times. You can't rely on the police, the schools, and the community to protect your brat.
I wonder do they let this guy shop at the K-mart while junior browses toys to keep him out of mom's hair so she can try on bras? Do they let him run into the gas station for a pack of smokes where sister pays while daddy pumps (boy does that sound bad considering the nature of this post), does this man rent a house in a neighborhood where kiddos play outside until the streetlights come on, does he grab some milk from the 7-11 where the kids spend a few quarters on candy and sneak a look through titty magazines while hiding behind the Frito Lay rack, and is he allowed to drive his car down a public street past bus stops and school yards? I'm sure. So, why can't he come and get some God in him once a week? Last I reckoned, church time was family time. It is one of the few times a week that all the good mommies and well-behaved daddies are tending to their little flock, no? I'm anxiously awaiting the outcome of the church vote this afternoon.
I say let the Goddamn guy go to fucking church you bunch of asshole hypocrites. I'm going to throw $20 in the swear jar and check the news to see if these douche bags made a WWJDecide? decision about this yet.
$25.
5.04.2007
check yer head
About six weeks ago Jake rammed me in the face with his big fat head. He hit me on the side of my nose right by my eye one. I heard a pop, saw a big white flash, and blood ran down the back of my throat. Then I went to work. Since then I've had a little bit of swelling, some bloody post nasal drip, a headache every day, my teeth feel lose, my neck has perma-crick, and I haven't breathed out of my right nose hole since Easter, at least. Time to go to the doctor, where I found out that I have a deviated septum and probably either a chip or a fracture at the bottom of that hole in my skull that my eye sticks out of. Beauty.
Dr. Mike gave me an uber-antibiotic to knock out any of the infection that loves to grow in sinuses that may or may not have been punctured and I am supposed to have my head x-rayed to see if there are any bone fragments swimming around in my face somewhere. I scored some Rx-strength anti-histamines to drain pus and snot out of my grill and a trip to the Ear Nose and Throat guy next week.
This ought to be tons of fun.
Dr. Mike gave me an uber-antibiotic to knock out any of the infection that loves to grow in sinuses that may or may not have been punctured and I am supposed to have my head x-rayed to see if there are any bone fragments swimming around in my face somewhere. I scored some Rx-strength anti-histamines to drain pus and snot out of my grill and a trip to the Ear Nose and Throat guy next week.
This ought to be tons of fun.
5.03.2007
out of the mouth of jake
comes:
cat (caatah)
dog (og)
clock (cluck)
lamp (mpah)
cup (cuppa)
milk (mlk)
car (kah)
truck (tuckah)
wow
mine/my (meye)
down (din)
up
mama
dada
pop
banana (nana)
cheese (eeese)
Cheech (each)
poop
no
stop (thtop)
bye (ba)
fan (nnnn)
The boy is all talk all the time. I wonder where he gets that from? Certainly not from his mother who can't even get it together to blog once in awhile.
cat (caatah)
dog (og)
clock (cluck)
lamp (mpah)
cup (cuppa)
milk (mlk)
car (kah)
truck (tuckah)
wow
mine/my (meye)
down (din)
up
mama
dada
pop
banana (nana)
cheese (eeese)
Cheech (each)
poop
no
stop (thtop)
bye (ba)
fan (nnnn)
The boy is all talk all the time. I wonder where he gets that from? Certainly not from his mother who can't even get it together to blog once in awhile.
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