Albert died today.
By fish standards, he was an old man (or woman, who knows). We bought him about two years ago along with ‘Crystal’. They lived happily together for only a short while. Unfortunately, Crystal died a few weeks later. My daughter was distraught since Crystal was really her fish. So we went to the pet store and bought ‘Crystal 2’.
It wasn’t meant to be. Shortly after, Crystal 2 also died. I don’t think Albert was fond of company. He thrived alone month after month.
It was getting quite annoying cleaning the tank every few weeks. I would have to take everything out and scrub it well. Albert would vacation in a large pretzel jar during the housecleaning. After a while, we realized that a five gallon tank was a little over the top for one fish. I then decided to downsize and get a one gallon tank. That was last winter.
Albert seemed quite content in his little condo. We were able to put him on our desk instead of the large metal stand. We could look at him when we sat at the desk, and he could look back. Actually, he couldn’t see us, but we liked to pretend that he could.
Several months ago, he began acting differently. His body seemed to curl funny, and he would float to the top. The kids got very upset thinking that Albert was going to meet the same fate as Crystal and Crystal 2. Hubby and I went to bed knowing that we would have to break the news to the kids the next day of Albert’s demise.
The next morning, I went downstairs fully expecting to see his curled little body floating on top of the water, his eyes expressionless. Instead, I saw him happily swimming along as if nothing had happened. He had defied the odds.
This happened several times over the next few months. No sooner would we call him a goner, and he would act like nothing happened. I think he took great pleasure fooling us that way.
It reminded me of several years ago when my uncle was quite ill. He had been in and out of the hospital for a long time. Each time he went in, my mom would say, “I don’t think he’ll be coming out this time”. We just knew the end was near.
One day, my sister and I came home after work. My mom came up to us and said, “Uncle Stevie’s gone”.
We stood there in disbelief. We had never thought it would really happen. Tears started forming in our eyes.
“When did he go?” we asked.
He just left here to go home a few minutes ago.
Albert had become the new Uncle Stevie.
Yesterday, Albert started his contortions again. His fins would move, but he was still curled up and sideways. We had the bubbler going on the tank and his little orange body would get tossed around by the water. I unplugged the bubbler to prevent any further humiliation. Then he would slowly float to the top, move his fins a little bit in midair and sink. Suddenly there would be no movement.
“Mom, is Albert dead?”
“I don’t know guys”, I said carefully. “Let me see”.
I looked carefully at Albert. His body was curled and his fins were still. Upon closer inspection, I could see his gills moving.
“No,” I replied, “He’s still breathing”.
Now you could see why we called Albert ‘the fish that would not die’.
I checked him all evening. I would see a fin occasionally move, or a gill open and shut. Finally I went to bed knowing that in the morning I’d have to break some bad news to the kids.
This morning, I came downstairs to find Albert still alive. He was swimming sideways between resting. He would then become still for a while only to show signs of life later.
At noon, I came home after taking my son to the dentist. Looking at Albert, I could tell that he was still breathing. He wasn’t giving in very easily. I knew we were in for another of round of ‘Albert’s dying”.
Later this afternoon, I came home from work. My children greeted me at the door.
“Albert’s dead”, my daughter told me.
Yeah, right!, I thought.
Looking at the tank, I found no signs of Albert. “Where is he?” , I asked.
“Daddy buried him in the front garden already.”
I couldn’t believe it. Albert, the ‘fish that would not die’, actually did. It defied all logic. I thought he was going to be in that tank for years, just taunting me by staying alive. However, the tank was really empty. The kids went about their business when my husband came into the house.
“ I can’t believe Albert finally died!” I said to him, “I was here at noon and he was still breathing. Did you check to see if his gills were moving?” I asked.
Hubby ‘s cereal spoon suddenly stopped in midair. He looked at me and paused.
“If they were, they aren’t anymore”.
Can you say ‘Fish Murderer’?
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Monday, August 27, 2007
I Did Something Really Stupid....
I did something really stupid the other day.
Hubby was at his uncle's to fix his roof and daughter was at a friend’s house. Son was on the computer when the front doorbell rang. I opened it. There was a man standing there with an SUV parked on the street.
“Hi!,” he said. “I help design and furnish Ryan Model Homes. I have a lot of extra pictures in my truck that I’m trying to get rid of and wondered if you’d be interested.”
(Wow!! I can’t believe it! Free pictures! How can I pass that up? There is a god and he loves me.)
“OK,” I said excitedly, “I’ll be right out!”
Walking down the driveway, I said, “You aren’t going to kidnap me; are you?” (Ha, ha!)
“No,” he said, “I don’t think my girlfriend would let me!” (Ha, ha!)
He opened the back of the SUV. In the back was a large row of pictures standing on their sides. I started flipping through them and pulling some out, although they were not exactly my taste. I thought that perhaps I could use them for presents later. Next he let me look in the back seat where I found a few more.
“I’ll pull the ones out you like and you can choose.”
His next words put a chill up and down my spine.
“The large ones are only $65 and the small ones are $45. You’re really only paying for the print.”
In the next few seconds, my mind worked in turbo mode. I don’t really like these, I thought. They are so totally not my style. But I must be a whacko to think they would be free. How embarrassing! Now what do I do? Should I let him know that I’m an idiot and walk away? Or should I just buy one or two and act like I knew it all the time?
“Hmmm,” I said flipping through my original choices. “I know my sister would just LOVE this one. It would be a great present!” (I already got her a present months ago, but, again, EMBARASSMENT.) I kept flipping through. “I know my husband would just LOVE this Monet! Hmmm… OK, I’ll take those two!”
I smiled warmly at him after my decisions were made. “We take cash, credit cards or checks”.
“Alright”, I said, “I’ll go get my checkbook”. For some reason, I felt safer with a check instead of giving him my credit card. There were a few brain cells left after all.
I went in the house and got my checkbook. The man told me that the total was $119.20. I wrote the check and handed it to him, smiling all the time.
“Do you need help bringing these inside?” he asked.
“Oh no,” I replied cheerfully, “I can do it!”
“OK,” he said, handing me a business card. “The pictures have a lifetime warranty.”
“That’s great. Thanks so much!”
“Thank YOU!” he said and got into the SUV.
I walked into the garage with my treasures and went in the house. I carefully leaned them against the wall and admired them. They were certainly lovely, but…
What the hell?!!!! I don’t like these! What was I thinking? I am SUCH and idiot!! Now what do I do? Calm down. No one else saw what a fool I was. I’ll just explain things to hubby when he gets home. He’ll understand. Maybe I can figure out how to take them back, or maybe I’ll keep them since they are lovely…WAIT A MINUTE!! I hate them. I have to stop rationalizing this. I guess the worst case scenario is that I give the one picture to sister for her birthday, knowing full well she won’t really want it, and I’ll put the Monet in the ….well, maybe I’ll just store it for now since I really HATE IT!!!
For the rest of the afternoon, I conveniently forgot about the whole thing. I set about picking up the house. I remember I made something for dinner, if you consider putting frozen prepared chicken patty product and potato product in the oven for 15 minutes. We all sat at the dinner table and ate the delicious dinner I had prepared so carefully. When the children were done, they asked to be excused and we let them. We were left alone with only the silence between us.
“Hubby?” I said cautiously, “I did something really stupid today.”
I know how people constantly overuse the term ‘deer in the headlight’ looks. I can’t really say that was the look he gave me. I think it was more of a ‘I hope what she did does not cause permanent damage to my brain’ kind of look. His eyes were wide, but I saw a hint of curiosity in them.
“What did you do?” he said staring intently into my eyes.
“Well, the doorbell rang this afternoon”. I then told him my tale of idiocy. When I came to the part about the costs of the small and large pictures, he stopped and said, “don’t tell me you bought all of them.”
“Oh no!” I laughed, “I only bought two!”
“Why did you do that?” he said, trying to understand my explanation, his face contorted in pain.
“I didn’t want him to think I was an idiot”, I said. “What kind of lunatic would think they were free?”
He carefully hid his answer by not moving a muscle in his face. There were a few moments of silence following. I could tell he was trying very hard not to say what he was really feeling, but I know that inside he was not happy.
“Do you know who this guy was?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, “he gave me his business card.”
After a few more stressful moments, he said, “I’ll call him and get our money back.”
I remember repeating over and over, “I’m sorry! I’m such a loser!” Wisely, he didn’t reply.
Later that evening he told me he was going to call the number on the card. “I’m just going to say to him, ‘…I finally got her out of the asylum, and the moment I leave to get her meds, this happens.’”
Very funny.
Anyway as it turns out, he left a message, I stopped payment on the check, and he called hubby back. This man promised to come by in the evening to pick up the pictures and refund our money, since he had already cashed the check.
When it came to the time that he was supposed to arrive, I was conveniently upstairs on the computer. He and hubby had a civil conversation, with a few laughs. I never did ask what they were talking about, but I’m sure he had some pity for the man whose wife was only steps away from returning to the asylum.
Hubby was at his uncle's to fix his roof and daughter was at a friend’s house. Son was on the computer when the front doorbell rang. I opened it. There was a man standing there with an SUV parked on the street.
“Hi!,” he said. “I help design and furnish Ryan Model Homes. I have a lot of extra pictures in my truck that I’m trying to get rid of and wondered if you’d be interested.”
(Wow!! I can’t believe it! Free pictures! How can I pass that up? There is a god and he loves me.)
“OK,” I said excitedly, “I’ll be right out!”
Walking down the driveway, I said, “You aren’t going to kidnap me; are you?” (Ha, ha!)
“No,” he said, “I don’t think my girlfriend would let me!” (Ha, ha!)
He opened the back of the SUV. In the back was a large row of pictures standing on their sides. I started flipping through them and pulling some out, although they were not exactly my taste. I thought that perhaps I could use them for presents later. Next he let me look in the back seat where I found a few more.
“I’ll pull the ones out you like and you can choose.”
His next words put a chill up and down my spine.
“The large ones are only $65 and the small ones are $45. You’re really only paying for the print.”
In the next few seconds, my mind worked in turbo mode. I don’t really like these, I thought. They are so totally not my style. But I must be a whacko to think they would be free. How embarrassing! Now what do I do? Should I let him know that I’m an idiot and walk away? Or should I just buy one or two and act like I knew it all the time?
“Hmmm,” I said flipping through my original choices. “I know my sister would just LOVE this one. It would be a great present!” (I already got her a present months ago, but, again, EMBARASSMENT.) I kept flipping through. “I know my husband would just LOVE this Monet! Hmmm… OK, I’ll take those two!”
I smiled warmly at him after my decisions were made. “We take cash, credit cards or checks”.
“Alright”, I said, “I’ll go get my checkbook”. For some reason, I felt safer with a check instead of giving him my credit card. There were a few brain cells left after all.
I went in the house and got my checkbook. The man told me that the total was $119.20. I wrote the check and handed it to him, smiling all the time.
“Do you need help bringing these inside?” he asked.
“Oh no,” I replied cheerfully, “I can do it!”
“OK,” he said, handing me a business card. “The pictures have a lifetime warranty.”
“That’s great. Thanks so much!”
“Thank YOU!” he said and got into the SUV.
I walked into the garage with my treasures and went in the house. I carefully leaned them against the wall and admired them. They were certainly lovely, but…
What the hell?!!!! I don’t like these! What was I thinking? I am SUCH and idiot!! Now what do I do? Calm down. No one else saw what a fool I was. I’ll just explain things to hubby when he gets home. He’ll understand. Maybe I can figure out how to take them back, or maybe I’ll keep them since they are lovely…WAIT A MINUTE!! I hate them. I have to stop rationalizing this. I guess the worst case scenario is that I give the one picture to sister for her birthday, knowing full well she won’t really want it, and I’ll put the Monet in the ….well, maybe I’ll just store it for now since I really HATE IT!!!
For the rest of the afternoon, I conveniently forgot about the whole thing. I set about picking up the house. I remember I made something for dinner, if you consider putting frozen prepared chicken patty product and potato product in the oven for 15 minutes. We all sat at the dinner table and ate the delicious dinner I had prepared so carefully. When the children were done, they asked to be excused and we let them. We were left alone with only the silence between us.
“Hubby?” I said cautiously, “I did something really stupid today.”
I know how people constantly overuse the term ‘deer in the headlight’ looks. I can’t really say that was the look he gave me. I think it was more of a ‘I hope what she did does not cause permanent damage to my brain’ kind of look. His eyes were wide, but I saw a hint of curiosity in them.
“What did you do?” he said staring intently into my eyes.
“Well, the doorbell rang this afternoon”. I then told him my tale of idiocy. When I came to the part about the costs of the small and large pictures, he stopped and said, “don’t tell me you bought all of them.”
“Oh no!” I laughed, “I only bought two!”
“Why did you do that?” he said, trying to understand my explanation, his face contorted in pain.
“I didn’t want him to think I was an idiot”, I said. “What kind of lunatic would think they were free?”
He carefully hid his answer by not moving a muscle in his face. There were a few moments of silence following. I could tell he was trying very hard not to say what he was really feeling, but I know that inside he was not happy.
“Do you know who this guy was?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, “he gave me his business card.”
After a few more stressful moments, he said, “I’ll call him and get our money back.”
I remember repeating over and over, “I’m sorry! I’m such a loser!” Wisely, he didn’t reply.
Later that evening he told me he was going to call the number on the card. “I’m just going to say to him, ‘…I finally got her out of the asylum, and the moment I leave to get her meds, this happens.’”
Very funny.
Anyway as it turns out, he left a message, I stopped payment on the check, and he called hubby back. This man promised to come by in the evening to pick up the pictures and refund our money, since he had already cashed the check.
When it came to the time that he was supposed to arrive, I was conveniently upstairs on the computer. He and hubby had a civil conversation, with a few laughs. I never did ask what they were talking about, but I’m sure he had some pity for the man whose wife was only steps away from returning to the asylum.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Up in the Woods
Last weekend, my husband went up to our camp in the Adirondacks with our children. I had to work on a Saturday since my replacement person had to go on college visits with her son. They were so excited! Our camp is really not a 'camp'. We've been teased through the years by those who expect no running water and an outhouse. Actually, it was built in the 1940's by my Great Aunt and Uncle. Back then, waterfront land in the Adirondacks was not expensive since it was still a challenge to get there. They built this small cottage for themselves and for my Great Uncle's mother. They would go on the weekends, and his mother would stay all summer. Since they had no children, and my mother was an only child, she would go up there occasionally, but when my Great Uncle died and my mother was married, my parents would not only go up to enjoy it but also to maintain the place.
As a child I believed it was a magical place with all the woods around us and the beautiful lake right out front. My memories are so clear, and I lived for the weekends when we would pack up and go up there.
Looking back, I forget all of the difficult times. My father was suffering from a mental illness and was self-medicating with alcohol. Back then, doctors would prescribe Valium to calm him down, but it was before more research was done. Now, there are drugs on the market which help balance the chemicals in the body in order to comfortably live with the illness. But back then, we just lived with it, knowing we didn't have a choice and I relished the moments when he acted 'normal'.
When my husband and I started dating, he would comfortably tease my Dad. Hubby became one my Dad's favorite people. After we had dated awhile, we would invite him up to camp.
Little did I know that my then-boyfriend hated every minute of it. He would go up and try to help my Dad with the work. My Dad made every chore a nightmare. Dad would have us rake up pine needles in the yard so no one would slip. He would have hubby move piles of dirt from one place to another. Once, when my former brother-in-law was up there helping, he took hubby aside and said, "Welcome to camp Dachau".
In the meantime, after I helped work in the yard, my mother and I would spend time together and have a great time. Hubby never complained, but I couldn't figure out why he never wanted to go up there.
It was only after my father died, he told me why. Now it seems so obvious. No wonder he hated it!
My parents had bought/inherited the place and now hubby and I take care of it. Our children have grown up there, but times have changed. When I was little, my sister and my cousin and I could walk to the playground and then to town to buy candy. We would sit on the big rock next to the main road and wave to the cars going by. No one objected when we walked through their yards near the lake to get to the little gift shop nearby.
Today, we wouldn't dream of letting our children walk to town alone. The little gift shop is now a dreary little house. The kids, at first, complained that there was 'nothing to do'. As they've grown up, they have found a lot to do just around the property. They build sand villages in the sand pit in front of our new place. They have built a fort up in the woods behind our place. They are in the water quite a bit, jumping in over and over. We'll take our pontoon boat to a bay farther down the lake where the water is shallow. They'll catch minnows and float around in their plastic blow up toys.
Everytime I go there, I feel myself relax with each passing mile. Up there, there is no concept of time. Bedtime is non-existant, and we can sleep as long as we want in the morning. We are so fortunate!
Anyway, as for last weekend... I had a weekend where I could clean my kid's rooms and do chores around the house that had been ignored due to our busy schedules. I called up there one night, only to find that I had interrupted an intense card game. Hearing their laughter over the phone made me so happy. They were truly enjoying themselves!
My memories of the mountains are bittersweet, but I sincerely hope that theirs contain nothing but good times.
As a child I believed it was a magical place with all the woods around us and the beautiful lake right out front. My memories are so clear, and I lived for the weekends when we would pack up and go up there.
Looking back, I forget all of the difficult times. My father was suffering from a mental illness and was self-medicating with alcohol. Back then, doctors would prescribe Valium to calm him down, but it was before more research was done. Now, there are drugs on the market which help balance the chemicals in the body in order to comfortably live with the illness. But back then, we just lived with it, knowing we didn't have a choice and I relished the moments when he acted 'normal'.
When my husband and I started dating, he would comfortably tease my Dad. Hubby became one my Dad's favorite people. After we had dated awhile, we would invite him up to camp.
Little did I know that my then-boyfriend hated every minute of it. He would go up and try to help my Dad with the work. My Dad made every chore a nightmare. Dad would have us rake up pine needles in the yard so no one would slip. He would have hubby move piles of dirt from one place to another. Once, when my former brother-in-law was up there helping, he took hubby aside and said, "Welcome to camp Dachau".
In the meantime, after I helped work in the yard, my mother and I would spend time together and have a great time. Hubby never complained, but I couldn't figure out why he never wanted to go up there.
It was only after my father died, he told me why. Now it seems so obvious. No wonder he hated it!
My parents had bought/inherited the place and now hubby and I take care of it. Our children have grown up there, but times have changed. When I was little, my sister and my cousin and I could walk to the playground and then to town to buy candy. We would sit on the big rock next to the main road and wave to the cars going by. No one objected when we walked through their yards near the lake to get to the little gift shop nearby.
Today, we wouldn't dream of letting our children walk to town alone. The little gift shop is now a dreary little house. The kids, at first, complained that there was 'nothing to do'. As they've grown up, they have found a lot to do just around the property. They build sand villages in the sand pit in front of our new place. They have built a fort up in the woods behind our place. They are in the water quite a bit, jumping in over and over. We'll take our pontoon boat to a bay farther down the lake where the water is shallow. They'll catch minnows and float around in their plastic blow up toys.
Everytime I go there, I feel myself relax with each passing mile. Up there, there is no concept of time. Bedtime is non-existant, and we can sleep as long as we want in the morning. We are so fortunate!
Anyway, as for last weekend... I had a weekend where I could clean my kid's rooms and do chores around the house that had been ignored due to our busy schedules. I called up there one night, only to find that I had interrupted an intense card game. Hearing their laughter over the phone made me so happy. They were truly enjoying themselves!
My memories of the mountains are bittersweet, but I sincerely hope that theirs contain nothing but good times.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Clean babies
I remember when our son was born ten years ago. My husband and I had been married when we were 30. We had a great time over the next few years. As I was approaching my 35th birthday, we decided that we were ready for a new addition to the family.
Our son was born the next year. Everyone said that we would know what to do by instinct. That's a bunch of crap. There we were staring at our newborn, not knowing what to do next. We got pretty good at feeding and changing him. However, bathing him was another story.
It's true when people say that a wet baby is slippery. Both of us gave him his first bath. I don't know if there's an easier way to do it, but one of us held him while the other bathed him. At the time we were both terrified that he would slip out of our hands and fall into the 1 inch of water in his bathtub.
It honestly didn't get any easier. He would wiggle out of our hands, but as time went on we realized that it wasn't the end of the world. In fact, he would love it and wiggle even more.
But time flies by...
Last night, before my son went to bed, he asked me to wake him up early so he could take a shower. I did wake him up early, but I fought the urge to get his clothes and towel ready. Instead, I went downstairs to get ready for the day.
As I was working, I heard the water go on. Soon after, he came down the stairs all dressed and clean. "How do I smell?", he asked, lifting his arms.
"You smell nice, just like Dad".
He gave me a grin, very proud of the fact that he used Dad's body wash, and his own deoderant.
I was so proud. But at the same time, I couldn't help but remember the slippery little baby that we washed so many years ago.
It seems just like yesterday....
Our son was born the next year. Everyone said that we would know what to do by instinct. That's a bunch of crap. There we were staring at our newborn, not knowing what to do next. We got pretty good at feeding and changing him. However, bathing him was another story.
It's true when people say that a wet baby is slippery. Both of us gave him his first bath. I don't know if there's an easier way to do it, but one of us held him while the other bathed him. At the time we were both terrified that he would slip out of our hands and fall into the 1 inch of water in his bathtub.
It honestly didn't get any easier. He would wiggle out of our hands, but as time went on we realized that it wasn't the end of the world. In fact, he would love it and wiggle even more.
But time flies by...
Last night, before my son went to bed, he asked me to wake him up early so he could take a shower. I did wake him up early, but I fought the urge to get his clothes and towel ready. Instead, I went downstairs to get ready for the day.
As I was working, I heard the water go on. Soon after, he came down the stairs all dressed and clean. "How do I smell?", he asked, lifting his arms.
"You smell nice, just like Dad".
He gave me a grin, very proud of the fact that he used Dad's body wash, and his own deoderant.
I was so proud. But at the same time, I couldn't help but remember the slippery little baby that we washed so many years ago.
It seems just like yesterday....
Monday, August 20, 2007
Rah! Rah! Sis-boom-ba!!!!!
My daughter, who turned 7 this year, decided to try cheerleading. For several years, my son has been playing Pop Warner football and we sometimes watched the cheerleaders from afar. So this year, instead of her sitting around watching the football players, I suggested she join the cheerleaders. In my mind, I pictured Sandy in the movie 'Grease'. She'd have pom poms and cheer the team on with lots of spirit.
How naive I am.
The first night of practice I watched while 15 little girls did their exercises and started learning the cheers. I didn't pay too much attention since I brought a magazine and my favorite Sudoko book.
The next night I DID pay attention and wished I hadn't. After about an hour of listening to 'cheers', I started furiously scribbling in my little notebook. Within a few minutes, this is what I had written:
Oh my God! Am I in the twilight zone??? Here I am watching 7 and 8 year olds
cheerleading. Could they possibly be spelling 'H-O-T T-O G-O? I know they're
supposedly talking about the team, but come on! Who in their right mind wouldn't
read other meanings into it?
If that's not bad enough, they just completed the 'Firecracker' cheer:
"....the players have the muscles,
the coaches have the brains,
the girls have the pretty legs and
WE'LL WIN THE GAME!!!!"
WHAT???????!!!!!! The 'girls have the pretty legs ?(as they run their hands up their leg).
Are they insinuating they have neither muscles or brains?
I guess the feminist side of me is incredulous.
"Get over it!" hubby says.
Sorry, but I find it incredibly sexist. Here are a bunch of girls cheering on a sports
team, extolling their virtues while showing off their tiny 7 and 8 year old legs. Is
this our future as women? I hope not. Visions of Libby Lu are dancing in my head...
My daughter loves cheerleading and doesn't seem to notice the obvious sexism. I don't want to make her quit, but I will talk to her regarding the content of the cheers so she knows it's just pretend.
Geez... I wonder why women today are so uptight about their appearance......
How naive I am.
The first night of practice I watched while 15 little girls did their exercises and started learning the cheers. I didn't pay too much attention since I brought a magazine and my favorite Sudoko book.
The next night I DID pay attention and wished I hadn't. After about an hour of listening to 'cheers', I started furiously scribbling in my little notebook. Within a few minutes, this is what I had written:
Oh my God! Am I in the twilight zone??? Here I am watching 7 and 8 year olds
cheerleading. Could they possibly be spelling 'H-O-T T-O G-O? I know they're
supposedly talking about the team, but come on! Who in their right mind wouldn't
read other meanings into it?
If that's not bad enough, they just completed the 'Firecracker' cheer:
"....the players have the muscles,
the coaches have the brains,
the girls have the pretty legs and
WE'LL WIN THE GAME!!!!"
WHAT???????!!!!!! The 'girls have the pretty legs ?(as they run their hands up their leg).
Are they insinuating they have neither muscles or brains?
I guess the feminist side of me is incredulous.
"Get over it!" hubby says.
Sorry, but I find it incredibly sexist. Here are a bunch of girls cheering on a sports
team, extolling their virtues while showing off their tiny 7 and 8 year old legs. Is
this our future as women? I hope not. Visions of Libby Lu are dancing in my head...
My daughter loves cheerleading and doesn't seem to notice the obvious sexism. I don't want to make her quit, but I will talk to her regarding the content of the cheers so she knows it's just pretend.
Geez... I wonder why women today are so uptight about their appearance......
Friday, August 17, 2007
Baby Lisa Who???
I had quite a bit of trouble thinking of a blogger name. I was going to write my name backwards, but it may be way too obvious to the thinking human being. Then I was thinking of the nick-names various people in my life have called me. Again, they would be a dead giveaway to my identity. I can't explain why because then I would have to write them down to explain which would expose me in order to explain why I don't want to use them. Get it? Me neither.
Anyway, I was sitting here thinking of some names my children have made up for their stuffed animals. Two instantly came to mind. My daughter, at 5 years old, got a battery operated stuffed dog who looks like he's breathing peacefully while sleeping. Her name for him? Mexiphlegm. Don't ask why. She didn't even know why. My niece, at 11 years old objected to it greatly because of the 'phlegm' part. She said it was gross. I couldn't disagree, but I fully know that my daughter had no idea what phlegm was. Anyway, that name stuck, but it's too strange to print.
Another time, she named her stuffed bear 'Mommylo'. Cute, indeed, but strange. There was no rhyme or reason to the title. I think she just says the first thing that comes to mind. Again, it's just too strange a name to use.
Then I thought of it. She's 7 now, but when she was just three, we were looking for a name for our new small white MALE dog. The rest of us tried our best to be original. I came up with Rover, Killer, etc. My smart-a** husband came up with 'Kitty'. Of course he was vetoed. Then, my precious little girl out of nowhere came up with the idea of 'Baby Lisa'. Why? I don't know. But the name has become legend in our house. Luckily, the small white MALE dog was given a normal dog name by our son.
So here I am. I am neither a baby and my name is not Lisa. But it just seems fitting to use it. I KNOW I don't want to be known as 'Mexiphlegm'.
Anyway, I was sitting here thinking of some names my children have made up for their stuffed animals. Two instantly came to mind. My daughter, at 5 years old, got a battery operated stuffed dog who looks like he's breathing peacefully while sleeping. Her name for him? Mexiphlegm. Don't ask why. She didn't even know why. My niece, at 11 years old objected to it greatly because of the 'phlegm' part. She said it was gross. I couldn't disagree, but I fully know that my daughter had no idea what phlegm was. Anyway, that name stuck, but it's too strange to print.
Another time, she named her stuffed bear 'Mommylo'. Cute, indeed, but strange. There was no rhyme or reason to the title. I think she just says the first thing that comes to mind. Again, it's just too strange a name to use.
Then I thought of it. She's 7 now, but when she was just three, we were looking for a name for our new small white MALE dog. The rest of us tried our best to be original. I came up with Rover, Killer, etc. My smart-a** husband came up with 'Kitty'. Of course he was vetoed. Then, my precious little girl out of nowhere came up with the idea of 'Baby Lisa'. Why? I don't know. But the name has become legend in our house. Luckily, the small white MALE dog was given a normal dog name by our son.
So here I am. I am neither a baby and my name is not Lisa. But it just seems fitting to use it. I KNOW I don't want to be known as 'Mexiphlegm'.
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