The AAP Wishes You a Healthy Halloween!

HEALTHY HALLOWEEN:

• A good meal prior to parties and trick-or-treating will discourage youngsters from filling up on Halloween treats.

• Consider purchasing non-food treats for those who visit your home, such as coloring books or pens and pencils.

• Wait until children are home to sort and check treats. Though tampering is rare, a responsible adult should closely examine all treats and throw away any spoiled, unwrapped or suspicious items.

• Try to ration treats for the days following Halloween.

--American Academy of Pediatrics News Release

Who is giving out spoiled candy? Is there such a thing as spoiled candy? I’ve never seen mold growing on a Jolly Rancher, have you? I’d suspect that “spoiled” looking candy was merely a ploy to remove the candy from our hungry gazes. As for unwrapped candy, I bet you’re talking about my neighbor’s caramel popcorn, in which case, mind your own business.

I'm glad you brought up suspicious items, uh, because I think I’m guilty. Several years ago when we were childless, carefree, and squandered our time doing Jupiter knows what, we forgot to pick up Halloween candy. When our doorbell rang at 5:45pm I had a moment of sheer panic as I realized the consequence I’d set up for myself: I’d chosen trick! Who chooses trick? It’s a national compromise: WE CHOOSE TREAT. I opened the door, admired the small ones, and excused myself to run around the corner to our pantry. I scanned the shelves and found them full of beans, which although magical, lack a certain je ne sais quoi in the Halloween department. The only alternative? The bag of mixed nuts in their shells I’d purchased with the best of snack intentions the previous January. So I hauled out the nuts, brought them to the door, and dropped a couple walnuts, brazil nuts, and a few almonds into their open bags. They looked at me in disappointment; their father laughed so hard he cried.

Nuts? Suspicious.

The next year I was ready, by gum, with Mounds and Almond Joys. The same small fry were our first trick-or-treaters. This time their mother laughed and thanked us for handing out candy kids don’t like but moms do. Fail.

Consider handing out pencils and pens? Do you know how many eyes you can poke out with a pen? I hope those pencils are sharpened for maximum abdominal penetration! Say what you will, but a mini-Snickers never killed anyone (although I have yet to see the new Saw movie, so I guess it’s theoretically possible.)

And AAP? I know you mean well, but telling me to feed my kids a healthy meal before trick-or-treating? I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Duh, AAP. Maybe you should stop partnering with The Obesity Generators before you start telling me to feed my kids healthy foods. Up yours.


Now, if you'll pardon me, I need to hit the store and buy coconut-free candy.

It's World Babywearing Week!

What, you don't celebrate?

Not even with the traditional tossing of the pacifiers and the running of the house cats? The warm milk chug? Or the ceremonial smearing of the Desitin?

Well, there's always next year.

In observance of the holidays, I dug this two year old picture out from under a pile of digital files.

Some of you know, or have gleaned, that Proximo will not be separated from me unless under duress or when presented with an approved mother substitute. (Hint: if you are reading this blog you are not an approved mother substitute, not even O.H.) I wore him like a really cute accessory for at least a year; it was the only way I could do housework or cook. Unlike other accessories, he keeps growing and getting better. Also, talking to me.

(If my purse talked to me I'd flush the rest of those root canal Lortabs for sure.)

We used two types of baby carry type items: a wrap sling and a tube sling. I'm wearing the tube sling above--it's a Hotsling and is sized to your body. I have a wrap sling, which is one size fits all, and you tie it all kinds of fancy ninja-like ways.

So the next time you're thinking, "I'd like to wear something, but this gold necklace, cocktail ring, and earring set just isn't enough," may I suggest a baby?




More on babywearing here.

CTRL + C, CTRL + V

I can’t stand plagiarism; it’s annoying and lazy. Not to mention that plagiarism increases the chances that I'll re-read something I've already read--which is unacceptable. I'm busy! No time to re-read! That’s why when it came to my attention that yet another person was ripping off my friend cjane, I decided to write this little post.

First of all, if you’re going to plagiarize someone, don’t make it one of the most well known people in the blogosphere—especially if your audience might have a lot of overlap with the more popular blogger.

Second of all, if you’re going to plagiarize someone, don’t, because it’s incredible stupid and you’ll always be found out.

If you don’t have anything to write about that day, your first line of defense shouldn’t be “I’m going to go and take someone else’s content.” If you’re having trouble writing, try an exercise, like writing about a topic, say, plagiarism. I’ll even give you a specific topic: What would happen if I were to rip off one of the best-known bloggers in the United States and everyone found out?

I didn’t get to see the post that she apparently copied nearly word for word, but I did find another example on her blog, like this one:

click to enlarge. I'd link back, but the original has been deleted.

Know how I know those "2 types of people" is not your idea, Miss Musing? You were 18, possibly 19, when cjane wrote that blog post and I find it hard to believe that any 18, possibly 19-year-old has that kind of perspective (my 18-ish-year-old perspective was really wrapped up in hoping I’d get tickets to the Downward Spiral Tour and showing up looking really cute for my Honors 200 course and the red-headed Canadian boy who sat next to me.) I was also in Courtney’s kitchen around the genesis of her idea and we have deeply discussed this topic over several years. I was able to place your paragraph within one whole second to this post:

The whole debacle is ridiculous. What’s worse? The plagiarism is merely a tool to build her reputation and capture her audience’s esteem. What’s even worse? She’s been contacted by a publishing company to possibly contribute to a book. Her plagiarism isn’t about what else she could add to the topic, or style, it is simple self-aggrandizement. And it’s frakking lazy.

Then we get to something really amusing:

click to enlarge. source also appears to have been deleted.

Yes, as you can see, this person had their own plagiarism issue with another blogger. Yet, after it happened to her, she plagiarized cjane at least twice. Oh, how delicious! Like rain on your wedding day! A free ride when you’ve already paid! Wait a minute…




UPDATE:

I found the original text to her plagiarized post:

"In the last of the sun, the Boyfriend and I took an evening walk. As the puppies navigated our way through the wide roads of our neighborhood, we quickly discovered that our evening activity proved unoriginal as we were greeted by neighbors who had the same idea.

"Hello Mr. and Mrs. Stamps," I said, passing an older couple. Having spent my childhood in this same neighborhood, I tend to know many of the home owners. The Boyfriend is always eager to make connections, so this leaves the him to rely on me for first-hand knowledge of background information as it pertains to our neighborhood history.

"Mr. Stamps is an Egyptologist and spent years working on the Theban Mapping Project at the American University in Cairo. Mrs. Stamps is a mother of five (doesn't she look so young?) and a painter. In fact, you admired her painting at the local gallery last time we were there."

The Boyfriend always listens, ear-tipped, as I talk under my breath. I wouldn't want our passing neighbors to know that I'm inclined to spill their personal resume to those within earshot.

We passed a Victorian home with a white picked fence outside.

"This is Mrs. Cronin's home." I pointed with my elbow (hands inside my coat pocket). "She was my first piano teacher."

We encountered houses with tangible memories spilling out the windows and doors. Homes of immaculate facades waiting to bloom with spring's floral offerings. We greet more neighbors who require my back-hand introductions.

"Hello Mr. and Mrs. Andover, " we all nod in salutation.

"Mr. Andover used to be the town mayor and Mrs. Andover volunteers as president of the Neighborhood Beautification Committee..." My voice like a spy.

"In fact, she helped me plant our garden this year. Now that the tulips are in bloom I really ought to invite her over for lunch and to see the garden."

As we rounded the corner home, we spotted a couple coming toward us.

"Hello." I said.

From my lack of words that followed, it became clear that I did not know them.


"That is Dr. and Mrs. Anderson." The Boyfriend returned the favor, matching my tone as we headed up the sidewalk. "He is a law school professor and she's a concert cellist..."

"Well played," I commended the Boyfriend."

You can read cjane's original here.

UPDATE to the update here.

Seriously?

I was excited when I heard that my local elementary school would be offering a secondary language immersion option. I was entirely annoyed when I found out it would be French.

Seriously? French?

Look, learning a second language does improve primary language, as well as Math and other subjects. However, the whole point in language immersion is not just to acquire a proficiency in a language but to become fluent in that language. That is why French is a not a good candidate for language immersion in the United States. Why? Because French has decreasing relevancy.

French used to be one of the major languages of international business and diplomacy, but is no longer. Sure, French is still one of the three languages that the International Olympic Committee uses, but the IOC is hardly the yardstick to use. Over the past 50 years, French has become supplanted by English as the major international business language. One could even make the argument that Mandarin or Arabic are far more important if you want your child to be fluent in something that has and will have international importance.

France has an inverted population triangle; that means that fewer people speak French every year, in France. France is making itself irrelevant by not producing enough people to even replace its own population. The major French-speaking colonies, Algeria, Niger, Congo, even the Côte d'Ivoire aren’t exactly hotbeds of international relevance, either (yellow cake issues not withstanding.) In fact, in many of those former colonies, French is being replaced by a re-emergence of native languages.

It makes absolutely no sense in any logical fashion to teach French by immersion in our local public schools. If we lived in Canada it would be different. But we don’t. A friend of mine argues that even Portuguese would be a better option.

In fact, language immersion is questionably effective for mere fluency, particularly because the student’s home must also reinforce the school-based acquisition. I would hazard that the vast majority of the elementary school’s families have absolutely no way to reinforce native French. There is no major local native French presence, my sweet and adorable friend Laurence being the most delightful exception.

I’m guessing that the immersion program is simply to appeal to the pretension of some parents who want to be able to say that their child is learning French. And let’s be clear, people should learn French, but not at the elementary level when the most valuable time to internalizing a second or third language presents itself.

Clearly, Spanish is the most relevant option. The state’s Spanish-speaking population is on the rise (currently at about 10%,) and the United States is about the third-largest Spanish speaking country in the world (depending on which measurement you use.) 34 million people speak primarily Spanish in their homes, the largest amount of any secondary U.S. language (and as a percent, more than French, Hawaiian, and all the Native American languages, combined.) In the next 30 years, the Spanish-speaking population is expected to represent 30% of the population (not to mention that the population triangle of the U.S. would be in serious trouble if it weren’t for Hispanic birth rates.)

But no.

We’re not going to learn Spanish; it’s the language of the Enlightenment for our kids.

Too bad the Enlightenment was three hundred years ago.

Got a Snot-Nose Kid?

About a year ago I was watching CNBC (must have lost the remote) and I happened to catch the interview of a couple of moms who had created their own product and were trying to market it. The product? Boogie Wipes.

Yes, actual wipes that are meant to etch the snot off of your snot-nosed kids.

I had to find out for myself so I ordered a couple packages. When they came, in these little resealable packages, I opened one up, pulled out a wipe, and found nirvana.

They work.

They're amazing.

Any little crusty, any big crusty, the white snot lines, the dried ones on their eyebrows, and any of the topographical maps that form across your toddler's cheeks, Boogie Wipes handles it. They melt the gunk off their faces in a gentle way (not like in a Raiders of the Lost Ark way.) The solution is saline and aloe, so it doesn't chap and burn like regular wipes, and they smell divine.

I loved them so much that I started buying them and giving them out to my friends. I love them so much that I contacted Boogie Wipes and said please let me sponsor a giveaway because people need to know about these thingsI explained that I had to order them online before they were carried in stores and that I was giving them away anyway. Then they said 'Yes.'

Now that cold and flu season is here, I notice even more runny, crusty, bubbly kids running around: you all need Boogie Wipes.

I've never actually done a giveaway on my blog, but I think we all know the rules. Leave me a comment about the snot-nosed kid you know and how they need the magic snot-melting wipes. Take this as a chance to offend your neighbor by procuring a pack and saying in a fake whisper, "These really help some people," as you shove them into their hands.

Two of you will win one green Fresh scent and one purple Great Grape scent.*

If you tweet with a link about this giveaway let me know (@jet_set) and I'll give you an extra entry.

Entries accepted until 10am MST Monday 2/9/09 (or until I remember to login*)




*change from first post

//Entries CLOSED

AIG, Sure

...but Mother's Cookies is closing?

I knew thing were pretty bad, but now they're taking away our frosted animal cookies?






This carnage is unbelievable. Stock up while you can. No more Peanut Butter Gauchos, English Tea, Oatmeal sandwich, Frosted Oatmeal, or Double Fudge. I'm voting for no bailouts for GM, someone save Mother's Cookies.

Reply All

You all know how much I hate email forwards. I can't abide them. Usually, however, I'm pretty good about just letting things go. Grit my teeth and just let it go, go ahead, gulp, let it go.

Today, I couldn't let it go.

My mother-in-law sent me some email about how a woman in Colorado got a speeding ticket and had to go to court. At court, there were a bunch of (what the email is assuming) illegal immigrants Spanish speakers. The translator had to leave early that day so all the the non-English speakers had to go first. This is AMERICA, and she speaks ENGLISH and she had to WAIT. What is this world COMING to. The email concludes "Our Country [sic] is eroding every day right before our eyes. No country in the world has ever survived having 2 major languages*. We are heading down that path."

So, as I have warned multiple times, I hit the 'reply-all' button. Oh yeah.

Don't try and stop me, I'll take you all down.

"Who cares?" I said, "She broke the law. I don't feel bad for her at all. I don't feel bad about paying 89 cents a pound for strawberries either."

What I really, really wanted to say was:

"Who cares? She broke the law. I don't feel bad for her at all. It's just a shame that if she killed a small child while speeding through a school zone we couldn't deport her back to Germany/England/Sweden in parts equal to the sum of her ancestry. And I don't feel bad about paying 89 cents for strawberries either."

Shooooot, I just keepin' it real, yo [sic.]

I also don't know how to leave well enough alone. I hit 'reply-all' again and mentioned,

"The last statement, that no country in the world has survived with two major languages, is patently false. The VAST majority of nations on this earth have more than one major language. Here is a list of countries with more than one official language."

Booyah.

As Kiki can tell you, this exchange was punctuated with significantly more cussing of the most base variety. I chose not to record that for posterity at this time.

If there is one thing I can't stand, more than mere xenophobia and racism, it's STUPID, baseless, jingoistic propaganda that serves to inflame the gullible with inaccuracies and fear.

So don't forward me that tripe.

'Cause that's how I roll.



*Then again, perhaps the email is correct in saying that no country in the world has survived two major languages in the most far-reaching sense that every country will be born, rise, fall, and be absorbed into the next geographical entity to occupy that same area of land. However, I maintain language is NOT causal, even if you try to make the case for the previous argument.
Yeah, I don't think the author of the email is smart enough to consider that either.
And that's the reasoning of someone who was raised, speaking Spanish, by an immigrant. Peace, out.

Oh The Flossy, Flossy

I decided, because I am total masochist, to take El Guille and Proximo to the new IKEA on Saturday. I wanted to buy a bunch of things I don’t need but want, and the kids needed to get out. I also wanted to make sure I went at the most busy time of the week alone with the kids.

I am under the delusion that I am completely capable of handling them both while out by myself. I’m capable because one is totally immobile and doesn’t talk back yet—that leaves me plenty of mind-share to devote to the lippy one. It took us a couple of hours to get out the door with some mini-disasters, like a husband who didn’t hear me screaming for his help while I’m nursing the baby and Guille is loosing his bowels in his awesome plaid pants.

El Guille and Proximo fell asleep on the way up to the store. That’s probably a good thing since on my way out the door I grabbed from the mailbox a new mix CD that Kiki sent me entitled, “Parental Advisory Explicit Content, i.e. There is Swearing.” I popped it in and grooved to her sweet potty mouth tunes (“G..L..A..M..O..R...O.U.S.”) Kiki makes awesome mixes and this one is particularly delicious and naughty. I don’t mind telling you that I will miss the swears in songs when the kids get old enough to hear them. “If you ain’t go no money take yo' broke a** home!”

So, properly recharged after a Timbaland and Ludicris-filled car ride we arrived at IKEA. I totally scored with a parking space two spots from the front of the store. I grabbed a shopping cart and put the baby, still sleeping, inside it. El Guille was compliant because he just woke up. He took my direction to hold onto the side of the cart. So far so good, right? No screaming, just two seemingly well behaved kids.

That’s when it happened.

A man and woman walked past me and he said, “Wow! It looks like you’ve got your hands full!”

Uhm.

Gobsmacked.

I have two kids.

The two small kids that are either asleep or walking benignly and obediently.

It’s not like I have six, and moms with six kids don’t like hearing that comment either.

I’m over thirty, so I don’t appear to be some super-young mom at her wits end. Perhaps the pigtails in my hair gave off an unintended whiff of desperation. Do you think I smelled funny? I did go swimming the night before so maybe he meant to say "Hey, Lady, you smell like chlorine and milk. Take a shower and change your breast pads."

I wasn’t cussing at anyone, despite what you might think given my predilection for naughty music, or doling out the smacks (sugar or the regular palm kind.) I mean, I guess my hands could have been literally full if I had been man-handling Guille with one arm of steel/doom and scooping the baby up with the other. However, no one had their hands full of anything.

Maybe he meant that my hands were full of shopping cart bar—because they totally were!

Seriously, dude?

*EYEROLL*

____________________________________________________

Tracklist for Kiki's stress-relieving mix entitled

Parental Advisory Explicit Content, i.e. There is Swearing.

Clothes Off!!	Gym Class Heroes
Starry Eyed Surprise	Paul Oakenfold
Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)	Eurythmics
Glamorous	Fergie
Remind Me	Royksopp
Typical	Mute Math
This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race	Fall Out Boy
Summer Love	Justin Timberlake
Say It Right	Nelly Furtado
Body and Soul	Tori Amos
Total Eclipse of the Heart	Bonnie Tyler
Wind it Up	Gwen Stefani
Hips Don't Lie	Shakira
Rehab (Remix feat. Jay-Z)	Amy Winehouse
S.O.S. (Rescue Me)	Rhianna
Show Me What You Got	Jay-Z
Beautiful Liar	Beyoncé and Shakira
Girlfriend (feat. Lil' Mama)	Avril Lavigne
Grace Kelly	Mika

The Four Horsemen

Ok, so *gum snap* my husband is totally smart. Please enjoy The Jet Set's first ever guest blog courtesy of my Other Half.

So I’m finishing up my family science requirement and I kind of feel as though I can look down my nose at the curriculum because of my contextual background. The examples in the assigned text refer to forms of dysfunctional families; for instance having a man berating his wife, or a couple not allowing their kids to develop independence.

In my quest to make the bad textbook (that actually came with the disclaimer that it is an under-researched field without much knowledge content) stop, I came across the chapter on communication wherein the group of the most detrimental styles of expression was referred to as

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse of Communication.

Right. Because when I argue with Azúcar and overly defend myself, it just might trigger the destruction of the wicked tares of wheat and the Savior’s return.

How am I supposed to want to get a MS or PhD someday when some jackass made me drop $120 on a textbook that can’t discern between “stonewalling” and a plague floating around killing kids?

There’s no excuse for defining or labeling something that does not need a quick way to refer to it. For example, it’s too cumbersome to constantly say “that thing where you take two numbers and then figure out how they come together as one.” So in my classes, we called that addition.

That’s why this family science class is a load of crap: the whole course is someone deciding what they want to call things that regular people can talk about without family science trying to carve out a place for itself.

Besides, this course is just a case example of calculus and group theory anyways, dumbed down for family science majors. I’d embellish to make my point but I’d hate to put your food storage to the test against the rider of the black horse.

Sorry to those of you who constantly refer to things in your daily life in apocalyptic terms (e.g., "This is the The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse of Grocery Checkout Lines!") If you want to quibble with Other Half, or ask him a question, feel free.

Baby's First Protest

Everyone has heard "Those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it." I guess the corollary is that those who have learned from history are doomed to spend their lives as Cassandras; telling the truth and never being believed.

I was watching a documentary on RFK and heard him say this on a Face the Nation interview back in 1967 about Vietnam:

“Do we have the right here in the United States to say that we are going to kill tens of thousands; make millions of people, as we have, millions of people refugees; kill women and children, as we have? I very seriously question whether we have that right.

Now we’re saying that we’re going to fight there so we don’t have to fight in Thailand, so we don’t have to fight on the west coast of the United States, so that they won’t move across the Rockies. Our whole moral position changes tremendously."

Sound familiar?

Let’s fight in X place so that we don’t fight here.
The places change, time advances, but our argument remains ludicrously the same.

As his biographer pointed out, RFK questioned whether our national security interest in Vietnam was outweighed by the incredible human suffering that we were inflicting by waging war in that country. Now, keep in mind, Bobby Kennedy was an architect of that war. However, after seeing the reality, he knew that he had to accept responsibility for his part in creating the war.

Dick Cheney has not and will never because of his awful pride accept his responsibility in waging war.

He has not and will never call himself by his true name: Warmonger.

He has not and will never admit that his pockets are lined with gold from profiteering while women and children line the bloody streets of Baghdad.

It is OUR arrogance that has led us down this quagmire.

Well, our arrogance and the failure of the Fourth Estate.

I love what Lee Iococca, a former prominent Bush supporter, said in his book.
“Stay the course? This is AMERICA not the damn Titanic.”

So, with that in mind, Proximo and I went down to campus to protest the visit by Vice President Dick Cheney, to Provo.

Baby's First Protest:

Proximo wasn't the only baby there. It was fun seeing other moms with their babies and children at the protest.

Some of the nice people I met at the rally. There was a good deal of media there as well. You might be able to spot us on the news tonight!


Look closely, I don't know if he's police or Secret Service, but it was funny seeing a security presence. We all know that BYU students are a riot-some lot given to much civil disobedience.


This was right before the conclusion of the protest. We sang the Star Spangled Banner...



I'll admit that I totally cried while singing the National Anthem. I vote. I vote my heart and my conscience. I celebrate the Fourth of July. We live in the most wonderful place on earth. Our opportunities are endless. We can do so much good.

I love this country and I hate seeing a bunch of jerks wreck it.


As George Bernard Shaw said,

“We learn from history that we learn nothing from history.”

Family Land Mines

Say you have some close family members that hold views that are contrary to yours. I’m not talking about politics, or minor disagreements, I mean views that are normally considered hateful. What if those views were, for example, race-based biases or other insensitivities?

We have some family members that espouse those kinds of views. They are people we still need to include in our family’s life. Our kids are going to hear opinions and language that we find objectionable, even abhor. How do we deal with that?
Have you ever dealt with a similar situation?
Have you parents ever had to explain to a child why Aunt Bev says such things?

Other Half wouldn't mind cutting those people out of our lives, but I don't think that's the best solution. I think we should be open and loving, while being cautious with our children's impressionable minds.

I’d like to hear what you have to say.

Dear President Bush,

I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the protests today. I really, really wanted to. As you can see, I was forced to conduct my own personal protest from the relative comfort of my awesome sofa. This is no reflection on you. Believe me, if I had to throw up on anyone else, it would totally be you. We'd have a good laugh about it too, you'd make a crack about partyin' with the boys years back and I'd laugh while hiccuping. Maybe Laura would have held my hair. I might have asked you for an Altoid though (is that cool?)

Anyway, you know that we've never had an easy relationship. At first I thought you were completely incompetent, but I had no idea. 9/11 happened. You did the right thing (well, other than stopping it, but maybe no one could have stopped it, no matter what that PDB said.) You invaded the right country, our boys and girls did good work there. They're still doing good work there, let's throw them some more support. It's just that in the days right after 9/11 when you asked your folks to find a link to Iraq, I guessed you were just covering all the bases.

Those cool guys you surrounded yourself with, did you know they were planning a way to get to Iraq for years? Maybe you did, maybe you didn't, maybe you don't even care. One thing is for certain, I think you got hoodwinked.

I thought the whole thing was suspicious way back when, but you know me, I decided to follow with a fine toothed comb. I remember watching the entire Colin Powell presentation to the United Nations. My Marine friend and I decided to watch it together (we are on slightly opposite sides but love to debate and concede points to each other, maybe you should try that with people you don't agree with, it's brought us closer together, but whatevs,) both interested in the outcome.

He watched because there was already a stop-loss and he knew that if we invaded, he'd be going. I watched it because I hadn't been convinced by the evidence you'd presented so far to go to Iraq. I figured that for SURE you'd pull out the big guns and drop the real evidence. Nothin' doing. I turned to my Marine friend and said, "I really hope there's something they're not telling us, because this isn't good enough." He agreed, he thought there MUST be something you were holding back. Turns out there wasn't.

Everyone around me was so gung-ho about the Iraq thing, they really were. Even though you later said you DIDN'T say there was a link between the awful events of 9/11 and Iraq, you totally did and so did your dawgs. Like, alot. Lots of people believed that. There was the weapons of mass destruction arguments, the idea that spreading democracy by force would make a better region, getting rid of a bad bad guy (though, if he was so bad, why did you guys hang the Kurds out to dry in the 92 uprising?) and that we had to engage in a proactive rather than reactive fight. I kinda think you used us, you used our patriotism and our trust. That was kinda mean.

In March of 2003 I was pretty bummed. It was clear that we were, no matter what, going to go into Iraq. I remember there were so many people that I worked with that were teasing me about my views. Like a Cassandra, I went around telling anyone who would listen that this was a bad idea, that this war would be very long and very bloody. I would mention that sixty years after WWII, we were still in Okinawa, and it was likely that we'd be in Iraq a minimum of 5 years, likely 10 years, and probably far, far longer.

I said that the Sunni and the Shi'ia, long played against each other under the Hussein regime, would take the opportunity to power grab and that those long simmering animosities would boil over into sectarian violence. After we totally dissed them, who was to say what kind of reception we'd get from the Kurds?

I said that the country would fall apart soon after invasion and we'd be responsible for the crumbling infrastructure, that we'd get the blame if it wasn't fixed right fast. No one believed me.

My marine friend and I got into an argument a few weeks before invasion, right before he shipped out for Pendelton. I said that I didn't want to send other mother's sons and daughters to die for nothing. He was angry because he said this is what they'd been training for since forever and who was I to say that I didn't want other people's sons and daughters to have to go. We eventually came to an understanding. I'd send him lemon poppyseed cake at Pendelton. He went, he served honorably and did great work, came back safely and married the coolest chick.

That's why when your right hand man said "I don't think anybody anticipated the level of violence that we've encountered," I got really, really angry. I DID, I ANTICIPATED IT. A chick who has a BA in History and that works for the Internet anticipated it. What is wrong with our government when some nobody like me KNEW what would happen when YOU DIDN'T. I guess I don't get that.

It's just that if you want to fight terrorists, maybe you shouldn't pick a place and out of hubris, create them. Bygones. Do I think we should leave? Nope. Like Colin Powell said way back when you were hell-bent on this thing, it's Pottery Barn, you break it, you buy it. And we've bought it (177 million a day.)

I also hate when people say that we should not protest you. Of course we should. YOU WORK FOR ME, for my neighbors, for the soldiers, for all the moms and dads. You are accountable to me. There are things that you've done that I'm mostly ok with, but there is a whole lot that is just not cool. That's why, when it's time for a performance review, and you're in my neck of the woods, I thought it was time to discuss your progress. 'Cause I have some issues.

So sorry I couldn't make it. I'm cooking another patriot down here and it's feeling selfish these days. I guess it's more interested in local politics than international strategems right now. I dig, I do.

p.s. Don't you love my muu-muu? My blog is totally magical. I wished for a muu-muu and it appeared at my door last night, straight from Northern Mexico. I wonder what I should wish for next...

Temper, Temper

Years ago I put an extremely long fuse on my beast of a temper and let it dwell deep below. Other Half has only seen me really lose my temper a couple times in the decade we’ve been together. My father is fond of saying that a pregnant woman is more true to herself than at any other time in her life. If that’s true, then I am a fearsome creature.

Gestation makes my fuse thisshort (that’s very short.) In normal life I am willing to let a lot of things slide. I’m able to hold my tongue, at least in front of the person in question, let my blood simma down now, and chill. In my current state, the slightest perceived injustice, the merest indication of stupidity, unleashes my wicked tongue. Once the child is out I never cuss in front of it, but when it is in utero the poor defenseless creature may, at any time and for the most specious of reasons, be subject to swearing like a stevedore (I am currently pissed because the word document I’m using to write this thinks I misspelled UTERO and I DIDN’T, no I don’t mean “utters,” son of a…)

On Tuesday I went to Mates of State and Death Cab with ~J and cjane. I’m in the stage of “eat every two hours OR DIE from emptying the contents of your stomach.” Near the end of Mates, I had to get something to eat from the miserable commissary. I was a little annoyed that there was a huge line, but I stood on line anyway. When I finally got up near the front Mates was over and all of a sudden there were a whole lot of people who decided to just saunter up and plant themselves at the beginning of the line. AW HELL NO. “HEY, who DIDN’T stand in line?” I said, only moderately loudly. “YOU, you didn’t” I accused a pimply faced 17 year old boy. He blushed and left the line. The guys in front of me turned around and said, “We were here, we swear.” “I know,” I said, “It’s just that I’m pregnant and I can’t take these fools.” Those guys were so sweet and kicked all kinds of people out of line for me, the dears.

Later that night cjane told me of someone who was vexing her life. You have NO IDEA how much I wanted to drive over to that sucka’s house and give them the kind of verbal lashing that would loose their bowels in fear and terror. I still might. Watch it.

The KUTV anchor Ron Whatshisface was covered The Storm of ’06 a week ago. He started his news cast with “Lots of damage down in Happy Valley tonight.” REALLY RON WHATSYOURFACE? HAPPY VALLEY? I hate when people call it that. The expression is patronizing and inane. I can’t imagine something more asinine than referring to an actual county as “Happy” when in fact there is a woman inside it that will gladly rip your sad, strangely elongated head off.

At The Jolly Porter’s birthday party the topic of Raechaelaer Ray from Food Network came up. The Jolly Porter blinked a little when I announced to him that I’d like to find that food-orgasmic freak, take her by the neck and punch repeatedly. “You should ask the locals for restaurant ideas,” is her ONE AND ONLY piece of advice on her food travel programs. OH REALLY RAY? That’s your advice? I’m with Tony Bourdain here: she needs to stop her ascent to monopoly before we’re facing the REAL New World Order.

Yesterday I had my first appointment with the mid-wives. For those of you who’ve never been knocked up enough, your provider will usually give you a big bag full of pre-natal vitamin samples, magazines, coupons—corporate sponsored crap, basically. You all know how I feel about formula marketing. Yet, I couldn’t help but be surprised and instantly furious when I saw both of these items in my bag:


YES, that’s a copy of BabyTalk magazine with the cover story entitled “Why Women Don’t Nurse Longer” right next to a big freaking box from Similac with a free bag and samples. HMMm with that kind of implicit endorsement from a medical establishment it’s no wonder why women doubt the capabilities of their bodies and are undermined at every turn in their attempts to nurse. It’s been proven in studies that some women thought that because hospitals and doctors handed out those samples they endorsed formula over nursing. So screw those formula makers and their @$^#$#@ marketing tactics.
Poor Carrie heard the kind of double-deuce language over IM yesterday that would make Tarantino shake in his boots. I seriously wanted to go ape-@#$ all over their !@#$. Similac can kiss my grits.

Then I thought about things and decided that instead of being angry I should donate these things to people that NEED them. So if any of you formula girls (it’s your decision, not my business, you know best) and would like the samples/coupons/ etc, I’ll be thrilled to mail them to you, REALLY and TRULY (consider it an act of guerilla consumerism.)

I may have lost my temper, but I haven’t totally lost my mind (yet.)

Real Food

I don't get sick, I don't get headaches, I rarely get food poisoning (I think maybe 3 times in the past dozen years, and all from eating out.) I have bested every other girl in our office in arm wrestling, I have an incredibly high energy level. I know that if I were to have to, just to pick something, walk to Missouri, I would have the reserves to pull it off.
My problems come from portion size, not what I’m eating. Ask Tiff-fay-fay. (We are in a good-natured tug-of-war over what we each of us will eat and what we will feed our children: She is quite proud that she gave my son his first french fry, his first “fruit” snack, and his first cheet-o. I got her kid to eat a green bean once.) I believe in eating healthy, REAL foods.

I believe in whole eggs, cream, and plain yogurt. I believe in making cakes and cookies from scratch. I believe in unbleached flour and grinding your own wheat. I believe in lard in my refried beans and pie crusts. I believe that buttercream should have BUTTER.

I believe in buying organic, or at least local. An apple tastes better the closer it grew to you. The imitation of strawberries sold in stores can’t compare to the thumbnail-sized warm beauty from the garden. Unless corn is put into a stockpot within 48 hours, it loses its sweetness. Don’t eat a pea from a pod unless you know its provenance. It’s no wonder so many people hate tomatoes when all they can buy are the red-cotton varieties from the national chains. I don’t believe in putting a tomato in a fridge.

“In season” should be a mantra, just because you can get an orange in July doesn’t mean you should eat it, same with strawberries in December. Produce stands by the side of the road should be a regular stop.

I believe in the avocados that were picked from a friend’s tree in Texas and driven on the high dusty roads without stopping, to my table within 24 hours. Guacamole should consist of: lime, tomato, onion, kosher salt, a dash of pepper sauce and/or freshly minced jalapeno. I do not believe in sour cream in guacamole.

The best cantaloupe I ever had was in Hermosillo, Mexico, a hop, skip, and a jump from the melon fields. It was so intense, sweet, and flavorful; I have never again eaten its equal. That was also where I ate my first homemade tortilla. I can still recall the flattened dough, made by hand everyday, cooked on the stovetop flame. Little crusty bits and a flaky, chewy texture.

A good dark brown bread beats a fluffy white. Baguettes are an exception. They must be crusty and consumed the day they were baked or they are no good. Croissants in plastic containers are an abomination. A soft croissant is disgusting. Bread in plastic bags is a CRIME.

My enemies are varied. High-fructose corn syrup is evil and it is in everything. It must be avoided at all costs. Red number 40, Blue Lake 50, Yellow number 5, with all their cousins and colleagues, are pollutants. Recombinant Bovine Growth Hormone has been outlawed in other countries, but continues to be used in our milk supply. Antibiotics given as a 'precaution' to our animals is harming us. Pesticides are scary.

I believe in pastuerized milks and raw cheeses. My grandfather was a dairy man. He warned us to never drink raw milk, I believe him. I think cheeses should taste like something, not like rubber. If your cheese has a coloring in it, look elsewhere. Make sure you buy organic if at all possible.

Make friends with your butcher or your fish monger. DO NOT BUY PRE-COOKED SHRIMP. If you can’t smell your fish before buying it, don’t buy it. Your fish shouldn’t smell ‘fishy,’ it should smell of the ocean. If your mussels or clams don’t close when you tap them, don’t buy them. If you can, buy straight from local fishermen. Where is your meat from? How was it raised?

Food in boxes is tricky, sauces in jars, too. Food in cans can be fine (tomatoes being the best example) and frozen foods are the best alternative to buying locally. Easy-Mac is terrifying. I am fine with my co-workers eating it, but it is so highly processed I can’t eat it without gagging. At least I know I could use it to find my way out of the building in a power outage. Processed foods are frightening. They have taken everything that is good, wholesome, nourishing, and removed it on behalf of shelf-life. Trans-fats are lab created fats that ruin your body.

I am Spanish, so I also believe in strange foods. Bacalao, the cod preserved in salt, is delicious heaven. Olives stuffed with anchovies, a treat. I believe in grilled sardines, Jamon Serrano, octopi over rice, and paella in the summer, sopa caldo in the winter. I believe in blood sausage, eating chicken hearts, turkey necks, and beef cheeks. If an animal lays down its life for us, it should be treated with respect and we should discard as little as possible. When I am done with them, chicken bones are DRY. I think the best tortillas are made from potatoes and eggs. Employ olive oil and saffron. The best ingredients in the world should be used everyday for your friends and family.

I have never met a healthy vegan. Every vegan I have ever met seemed to have a constant nasal drip, succumbing to colds, flus, allergens, etc., at far higher rates than their peers. Every vegan I have known has had weird hair and pasty skin. I do not believe in being a vegan. I believe in eating meat sparingly: being a vegetarian is fine by me. But please, eat the honey, use butter sometimes; it’s OK to have some yogurt.

The best foods in the world have simple, fresh ingredients. That is the secret to cooking. All things found in nature are here to fulfill the measure of their creation. Revere them, use them, and respect them. Listen to your body and soul, what you take in affects them both.

I believe in being balanced and I believe in eating REAL FOOD.

They're Not Here To Be Our Friends, Michael

The worst job I ever had was at a temp agency. I interviewed people and found them work. This agency was not a good place. They aspired to fill clerical positions. In the meantime, the dregs of society would pass by my desk. Drunks would stumble off the bus and into our waiting room, cursing us out for not finding them jobs. There were the child molesters, the itinerants, the addicts, and the lazy. And then there were the immigrants. If I send a Hispanic or Filipino immigrant to a job, they showed up everyday, on time, and worked the whole day. If I sent a run-of-the-mill-American, there was no guarantee they’d get there, that they wouldn’t be late, or take off at lunch never to be heard from again.

Time after time, the only workers I could depend on were the immigrants. They wanted to be here so badly they would take any job, at any time, and work their fingers to the bone (sometimes literally.) I remember one man who had been a banker in his native Peru. A banker. What did he do here? He worked loading and unloading cardboard boxes at an industrial plant. This country is so amazing that people would work the most difficult of manual labors to be here. We need those people. We need people who are so driven, with the extraordinary desire to make a better life for their children; they are possessed of the entrepreneurial spirit that will benefit all of us. We all have that in common; our ancestors took great risk to their fortunes and their literal selves to make it here.

When my mom came to this country, after the 1965 Immigration Act that did away with the racially based immigration quotas, she did not speak a word of English. She was sponsored by a family in Phoenix that she had met in Uruguay. She came to live with them and discovered that she was not being ‘sponsored’ as much as being kept as a type of indentured servant. Her story of exploitation is not uncommon. After a few months she escaped that situation and made it to Salt Lake. She spent a year working and learning English. My mom was highly educated before she came here, having attended University and law classes. She learned English by watching I Love Lucy and The Andy Griffith Show (they spoke slowly enough to understand.) After that year she was accepted into BYU and continued with her education. She has earned advanced degrees and is now a Professor.

Don’t listen to the hype—this past generation of immigrants has learned English faster than the past 100 years of immigrants. This notion that people come here and don’t bother learning English presupposes a couple arguments: one that they are skilled enough in their primary language that the acquisition of English would be simple; two, people just don’t want to learn English. Both of those assumptions are incorrect. 90% of surveyed immigrants insist that English is “necessary and crucial” to succeeding in the U.S. The previous assumption is more difficult. Some immigrants are not even literate in their primary language, making the learning of English all that more difficult. Imagine trying to learn a second language when you didn’t know how to read and write English or were functioning on only a primary school education. You see the problem.

The other nonsense I hear is that people just don’t melt in like they used to. Again, this generation of immigrants has integrated into American life faster than any other. It used to be that it would take two, sometimes three, generations for people to learn English and start intermarrying. First generation Americans these days are regarded in the same way as people whose ancestors have been here longer. Did you know that the average African American’s ancestors have been in the U.S. longer than the average Caucasian’s? There are so many perceptions and polemics, that it's hard to see the bigger picture.

Fewer Americans major in the sciences and mathematics. Our scientific research and mathematical fields have been saved by granting student visas and green cards to foreigners. Since 9/11, student visas and green cards have decreased, both in the granting and in application. Our government agencies are more reluctant to disperse visas and green cards, even to industries and specialties (like bio-medical or electrical engineering) that are desperately in need of more bodies. As foreign students decide where to go to school, and they hear about the level of hostility to immigrants in this country, they don’t want to come here. This is disastrous. Yes, we invented the A and H bombs, but much of that work was done by immigrant refugees from Germany. If our native-born children wish to avoid the hard sciences, let’s make sure we’re opening the door and welcoming those immigrants that will help us fill the gap.

We need guest worker programs and better visas. We need more green cards granted. We need people who are willing to come to this country and work to make it a better place. We need immigrants.

So to any of you who have forgotten what it’s like each time we have a wave of immigration that people think is responsible for all that’s wrong with the country, let me remind you of something:

The Chicago Post: "The Irish fill our prisons, our poor houses...Scratch a convict or a pauper, and the chances are that you tickle the skin of an Irish Catholic. Putting them on a boat and sending them home would end crime in this country."

Sound familiar? We hear the same nonsense bandied about with each wave of immigration. they bemoan a melting pot that never was. The reality is that the new people eventually integrate, they inter-marry, they join our faiths and our chambers of commerce. Don’t let the blowhards tell you differently: we all become Americans.

On this day, Independence Day, I am proud to be a child of immigrants. I am proud to support the rights of people who want to make a better life for themselves and their children—it can only better all of our lives.

Course Correction

I told a friend that I’ve been self-censoring my posts, sometimes not writing about things that I feel strongly about out of respect for my readers. She urged less self-censorship, more faucet reactions. I’m concerned with adding to the cacophony of the sphere, but it’s somewhat self-important to think that these entries do anything at all to the sphere. In that view, I might intersperse the small life-moment captures with more stringent viewpoints and editorial opinions.

I am a lactivist.

I didn’t intend to be that way, I, or should I say, we, evolved into the pro-nursing camp. When Guille was born I had a goal of nursing until one year. I’d read all the literature about the extraordinary benefits of nursing and I knew that my mother had nursed all of us. Nursing was such a struggle in the beginning. A fill-in pediatrician, concerned that two day old Guille was jaundiced, recommended I supplement my nursing with an ounce of formula after each feeding. We stopped feeding him formula when the jaundice resolved. At his two week appointment he was still considerably under his birth weight. Since nursing is on demand, that ounce after each feeding (8-10 ounces a day) cut my volume significantly. I, of course, felt beyond horrible. I’d been starving my child. I sobbed and sobbed. We went to see the lactation consultants who helped us figure out a good latch. I had to pump after every feeding and supplement with a nursing aid (the tube + tape.) After a few weeks of that, my supply righted itself and we went on our way. We had other problems: nursing strikes, biting, colds and sickness. I had made a goal, however, and I was determined to stick with it. I am so glad I did. We reached one year and haven’t stopped.

As a result of all of those struggles, I began to research nursing. I was stunned with the discoveries I made.
I want to preface some things right here: there is a place for formula. Some of you reading this right now have used formula. I am not angry with formula. Adoptions, medical problems, specialized medication that preclude nursing, all are excellent examples of why we need safe baby formula. I remember Melanee, who was given heart medication that contraindicated nursing. Her heart broke because she wasn’t going to be able to nurse Maggie. Every time I see someone pulling out a bottle of formula, her example, and those of other mothers, is what reminds me to mind my own business.

However, I am angry with the formula industry. I hate that they provide every woman who delivers in a hospital a free diaper bag full of powdered, concentrated and ready to eat formula with incentives and coupons to buy. This makes it seem that hospitals and doctors actually prefer formula to the real stuff. Every pediatrician is sent loads of formula to distribute to women, even if the Doctor doesn't want it. These companies prey on the fear of women. Those corporations risk the health of babies and women to meet their bottom line.

Sounds like the most patronizing, misogynistic, and destructive mission statements on earth.

Babies who don’t breastfeed:
20% increased risk of Leukemia
60% increased risk of common and chronic ear infections
40% increased risk of Diabetes
Huge increase in upper respiratory infections which led to hospitalizations, increased risk of other types of cancer
The whopper is that 20% more likely to die in the first year.

So why isn’t this common knowledge? Well the government and certain health advocates thought you should know. So they made some commercials informing you of risks of not breastfeeding. The ads featured pregnant women riding mechanical bulls, competing in rollerball and log rolling competitions. The tag line: “You shouldn’t risk the health of baby before it is born, why start after?” followed by the statistics above.

I am filled with rage for our government. Rage is the only word I have to describe it.

The formula industry called the offices of Tommy Thompson (former Secretary of Health & Human Services) constantly until they were allowed to see him. The result? “Officials confirm to ABC News that HHS' Secretary Tommy Thompson met privately with formula industry representatives but turned down meeting requests from breast-feeding advocates.” You'll never see those ads the way they were intended to air. Why?

Because this administration is in so cozy with large business interests they’d rather see babies placed in literal mortal danger. As a result of industry pressure, Thompson had the ads revised to remove the statistics above. They focused not on the dangers of bottle feeding but on the benefits of nursing. Because, really, when you say it’s risky NOT to nurse is that it IS RISKY to formula feed. The industry can’t have that, oh no. The administration can’t have Nestle, Wyeth, etc, not contributing to the re-election campaigns, oh no. They make me sick.

It was just reported that an enzyme in babies' mouths when nursing prevents the contraction of HIV from infected moms. Your milk concentrates fat and protein content after the first year, tailoring itself to what your toddler needs. Children who nurse past the age of one score, on average, ten points higher on IQ tests than children who are nursed less. Antibodies pass through your milk make sick babies healthier and prevent illness entirely. The WHO and UNICEF have reported that one to one and a half MILLION babies die every year because they were not breastfed. Basically, every 30 seconds a baby dies from dehydration, diarrhea, vomiting, respiratory infections, or malnutrition as a result of being bottle-fed.

Let’s talk about you! 30% decrease in your risk of ovarian cancer, 50% decrease in risk of breast cancer. Uterine and endometrial cancers also decrease. The longer you nurse the more your risks drop, the results are often cumulative as well (nursing more than one child, even if for shorter than a year, cuts your risk.) If you choose not to nurse, you’re choosing to endanger not only your child’s life, but also your own.

When I see a bottle of formula I see misogyny.

I see the Dr. who told my grandmother that formula was better for her children (thankfully, she looked at him and said, “Are you calling God a liar? God didn’t make a mistake when he made me. I was built to nurse.”)
I see the nurses in the Swiss hospital arguing with my mother as she demanded that her baby not be fed artificial milk.

I see the companies that decided that when formula sales dipped they would go into the third world.
I see the women in third world countries that were told artificial milk was better, so they mixed the expensive powder half strength to make it last longer, starving their babies to death.
I see the poor water supply that they used to mix the powder, killing their children with cholera, dysentery, and e coli.

I see the triumph of marketing over women.

So, yeah, I’m a lactivist. Want to make something of it?