Grrrrrr.

I just came home from renting An Inconvenient Truth, so I could FINALLY watch it. I know, it’s sad to be so late to the game, but hey, I have a 2-year-old.

I opened the box, thinking that I’m cool with watching a documentary with Maya over dinner. They. Didn’t. Remove. The. Security. Device.

Grumble. I have a pizza arriving in minutes, so I guess we’ll see this one another time. Instead, I may still watch Looking for Comedy in the Muslim World (or whatever it’s called)…but that likely will need to wait until after Maya’s bedtime.

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You know that smile I was rhapsodizing about yesterday? Here it is. I mean seriously. Tasty.

Me, I’m being a goof, as usual.

Thank you Sean for the pics!

A friend on an e-mail group recently asked us this. I’m going to be 30 soon, and I feel like it’s too late… Many of us responded to her that 30 is not even remotely close to being “late,” and gave ideas for how to make a decision. This response, though, struck me enough that I asked the author permission to post it:

Honestly… I’m gonna be 38 in March… I still don’t know :) But I have learned something. Knowing what you want for the rest of your life isn’t for everyone. I happen to be a person that doesn’t need to know what I want to do forever as long as I can take stock of my life and be content with it. Sounds weird, I know. But it’s true. Every once in a while, I stop and look. Like when [husband] was sick. I realized that being on the fast track to a corner office was NOT where I wanted to go with my life. So I looked for something to do out of my house. I taught myself web design. I look around now…I’m not thrilled with my health, I’m happy with my work, I’m happy with homeschooling. So, I’m changing my ways so I can be happy with my health.

Just remember the rest of your life is a very long time.

(emphasis added)

Sometimes, I have to remind myself that it’s *okay* to not always know. I have a general idea of where I want to head, but don’t feel that I can really do anything about that until after we’re done having children. (That’s a big change that’s come from getting married. Given the chance to actually have another child or two, I want to do so while I’m still young enough.)

As my husband and I discussed my career path (I snorted, “career? I don’t have a *career* — I have a job.”), he commented that there seemed to be many things that I was willing to consider. My online friend summed it up for me very well when: as long as I can be content with my stock in life, THAT is what’s important.

Just thinking…

I’ve imported posts from Oh, for the love of God… to here — so there’s a little disarray that I expect to continue for a time as I remove/rename categories and whatnot.

Thanks to Fred for the link to the Wordpress-to-Wordpress import/export plugin. Once I deleted the *thousands* of akismet comment spam, my file size was small enough to import old posts, categories, and comments quickly! Woo-hoo!

Fondness & Affection, Day 4:

Thought: I am physically attracted to my partner.
Task: Think of one physical attribute you like.

Mmmmm. Yes. I’ll just pick one. Or two. Or three.

Mike has a smile that could stop traffic, complete with laugh lines that indicate a long-held sense of humor about life. From the very first phone call, I’ve loved his voice. When you put those together, you get a laugh that could melt the coldest blizzard…a perfect storm of attraction. Yum.

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I absolutely cannot wait for this book to come out.

Look at that photo. Then look at it again. Then read the comments on the photo at the book’s site. It’s delicious.

Hat tip: Agnostic Mom, who happens to be one of the essay authors.

I’ve touched on this subject before, and now that I’ve formally declared as agnostic, if not outright atheist, it’s something I feel even more strongly about.

One does not need to have a religion in order to behave in a moral, ethical manner.

Here’s a little reading on the subject, since I’m lacking time for a comprehensive post at the moment:

Living in America, this discussion usually plays out in terms of Judeo-Christian beliefs. The most common criticism about atheists is that without belief in God, we have no ethics or morals. A recent letter to the editor said, “No system of ethics … can stand alone. To make [ethics] understandable to a child, it must be clothed in religious terms, such as having an omniscient, omnipotent father in Heaven.” I completely disagree.

When a child hits another and the second child cries, the first one doesn’t need to have read the Bible or gone to Sunday school to know his action was wrong. Nor does he need to fear eternal damnation to discourage him from doing it again.

I try to teach my children right from wrong with a simple principle that most Christians will recognize. “How would you like it if Johnny took all the toy trucks and wouldn’t share them with you?” It’s not as eloquent as “do unto others,” but the message is the same and it gets the point across.

hat tip: Friendly Atheist

Day 3:

Thought: I can easily remember romantic, special times in our marriage.
Task: Pick one such time and think about it.

I skipped this yesterday. Somehow, even though I know it would help my attitude, it’s kind of tough to build up motivation do do this when deep down, you want to throttle your husband. I got over it. Ah, mawidge.

On with the exercise:

On our first *real* date (ie, alone, no child along), Mike and I had dinner together at a lovely Indian restaurant in the Cherry Creek area of Denver. The setting was fantastic, and for the first time, we were able to have a meal complete with adult conversation uninterrupted by a toddler. Bliss.

So, what did we talk about? Why, parenting, of course. (Figures. The whole eight days we spent in Costa Rica without Maya? We talked about her all. the. time. You don’t know how much you’re going to miss your kids. Maya, on the other hand didn’t ask for me a single time.) Ahem…where was I? Right, parenting.

Mike started to tell me his philosophy on raising children — one which centered largely on letting a child be who they are, and supporting them as they find their own way, rather than pushing them to conform to some preconceived notion he might have had. For some people, this might not have qualified as romantic. For me, I was nearly in tears. I’ve got an amazing man on my hands, did you know that?

Okay, I should have written this yesterday, but I didn’t.

Yesterday was a crabby, crabby day — one of those in which I was irritable at my husband (hence no F&A part 3, oops) and throwing a pity party with a guest list of one. Well, two, really — a good friend of mine got to bear the brunt of my grumpitude. As Mike has told me before, “man, she must be a REALLY good friend.” Um yeah. Thanks, Joy.

On to the post:

Blogging for Choice Day: Why am I pro-choice?

If you’ve read me for a while, you might know that my daughter was most assuredly *not* a planned child. On January 21, 2004, I peed on a stick and immediately started spewing a litany of expletives. The first person I told was a friend in California, one who only knows me online. My first words after she answered the phone? I’m FUCKING PREGNANT. This was followed by a lot of sobbing and wailing, which I proceeded to, well…flip out.

After that fateful pee (hee hee…that was fun to type), I spent some time contemplating something I would have never dreamed I’d consider: having an abortion. You see, I’ve always considered myself pro-choice. Even if I were against the idea of abortion, per se, I simply don’t think it’s the government’s place to force a woman to carry an unwanted child to term. Now, for myself, I’d *never* have one. But I wouldn’t tell anyone else they couldn’t do it.

Yet there I was, thinking of having an abortion. My cousin (she’s more like my sister, really) had already said that she’d hold my hand every step of the way, no matter what I decided. It was certainly an option.

On January 22, 2004, I remember heading out for lunch, and stopping at Barnes & Noble on my way to On the Border for a little fajita salad (mmmm. salad.). I bought a copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting (no link, because frankly, the book sucks), and wandered over to OTB. You see, it wasn’t that I’d decided yet; I simply wanted to ensure that *if* I decided to keep the pregnancy, that I didn’t screw things up in the meantime. While I sat and ate, a man walked by and commented on my reading. “Oh, we loved those books. Congratulations — it’s an amazing thing to become a parent.” Never mind that I didn’t look pregnant, and that he was making some (admittedly correct) assumptions. Instead of getting my hackles up, I found that I glowed. And I realized that I’d already made a decision, whether I’d admitted it to myself or not.

On that day three years ago yesterday, I made my choice.

When the pro-life side talks about pro-choice folks, then tend to paint them as pro-abortion. I know that in my case, nothing could have been further from the truth. I dreaded the idea. If I’d gone through with termination, I wouldn’t have told a soul, ever. It would have been my own secret. I was definitely *not* pro-abortion.

That said, every day I am thankful that I got to make a choice. There has never been a reason for me to look at parenthood as something that was forced upon me. I made a decision to become Maya’s mother, and as a part of that, I relinquished the right to resent her. It helps my own emotional health to always be able to see her as something I decided to do, not as a burden I was handed. Instead of feeling childishly put-upon, I can step up and become an adult — and the parent that I know I can become.

It’s with great pleasure that I can look at my daughter and tell her that she is the best choice I’ve ever made. I would never dream of taking the ability to make that decision away from anyone.

Wondering what this is? Read this post.

Thought: I can easily speak of the good times in our marriage.
Task: Pick one good time and write a sentence about it.

Little romantic gestures don’t come naturally to my INTP spouse (who sees them as vaguely ridiculous), but knowing that I’ve said I enjoy flowers, he showed up the other night with a bright bouquet. The flowers are lovely; but, his willingness to listen to the little things I’ve told him can help me feel loved…priceless.