Not to long ago, I heard a news report that a higher and higher percentage of women in jail are mothers. At first, I was shocked. How could a mother do something so awful that it landed her in jail?!? And then I started to think about it...
In jail, you don't have to do any laundry.
In jail, you never have to cook for picky eaters. In fact, your food is prepared for you, and you get to eat it while it is still hot!
In jail you get to sleep through the night. There are no babies, bad dreams, or random vomiting incidents to wake you up.
In jail you can watch an entire television episode uninterrupted.
In jail you can read a book. Not an 8 page kids book, no there is time to read a REAL book.
In jail you can take a shower every day.
In jail you can close the half door when you go to the bathroom.
In fact the more I thought about it, the more fun jail began to sound. So when I got pulled over by those crazy cops last week, there was a thought that flashed through my mind for a split second: if I just kept driving, and I led the police on a low-speed chase, I wonder if I could get sent to jail for a long weekend...?
My mom could pick up the kids, I could tell Brandon not to post bond until Monday, I could ask the judge to prolong my sentence a little.
And that is when I came up with a great idea: Voluntary Jail.
The add campaign could be that Gieco voice-over guy: "Feeling a little frazzled? Need some time off from being a mom? Come stay at jail for the weekend. Enjoy three days of hot meals, no laundry, peeing in semi-privacy... all at the state's expense."
I bet it would diminish mothers in jail for real crimes by 82%, because my secret suspicion is that they just need a break.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Friends
I was reminded yesterday just how refreshing old friends (ehm, long-term) friends are. It is so easy to hole up and get busy and overwhelmed, but having good friends who can see through the front we put on- they are priceless. Each one shapes us, encourages us, and keeps us from becoming 2-dimensional. May your life be full of beautiful friendships.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
The Other Me
On my old blog, I notified you all that I'd been chosen to be on Germany's Next Top Model. The picutures are in!
Imagine my surprise to find that they look nothing like me!
But the girl-on-the-other-side-of-the-world-with-my-exact-same-name sure wears it well! I wonder if she'd be willing to share her fitness plan with me?
Go Hannah, I'm routing for you!
Monday, May 11, 2009
Back-Seat Ponderings
The Adventurer (5) says to me, "Hey mom, I know the Presidents name!"
"What is it?"
"Barak Obama!"
"Good job, buddy. You're right!" I say.
Silence.
"Mommy, when I'm the president, will my name be 'Adventurer Obama'?" (Ok, except he used his real name, not his blogger code name.)
Maybe one day he will be president... "The Adventurer For President: 2048!"
"What is it?"
"Barak Obama!"
"Good job, buddy. You're right!" I say.
Silence.
"Mommy, when I'm the president, will my name be 'Adventurer Obama'?" (Ok, except he used his real name, not his blogger code name.)
Maybe one day he will be president... "The Adventurer For President: 2048!"
Thursday, May 7, 2009
The Price of Raising a Genius
So, post could be called "when you know your youth has expired," or "How I got a $300 ticket for going 6 mph UNDER the speed limit" (it was entrapment I tell you!) But instead, I've kept the original title that I just happened to be brainstorming WHEN I got pulled over.
You see, it all started at 7:20 am. The four kids and I hopped into the van and headed off for school. Since we moved, our commute is now 30 minutes instead of 10. We dropped the Captain off at about 8, ran a fast errand, then dropped the Adventurer off at 9. I got back into the van, only to find that it was dead, and spent the next 45 minutes begging someone to give me a jump. Why do these things happen when Brandon is out of town?!?!
We got home at 10:00, played for two hours, and then left to pick up the Adventurer, who gets out of school at 12:30, exactly 2 hours before the Captain.
We went to the Library. We went to the grocery store. We got to the Captain's school early and waited.
Now why do I bother to tell a long story about my new 5.5 hours of commuting?
For the very simple reason that the Entertainer, my two-year-old who looks like a 4 year-old, and has a gigantic vocabulary and equally large cranium, is still very much two. There had been 5 hours of questions: "Mommy, what are those buttons on the stearing wheal?" "They are for the cruise control." "No, but what do they say?" And I go through the list: Accelerate, Resume, Cancel, On, Off, Cruice, Reset, some 40 million times over the course of 5 hours in the car that day. Over and over.
So while I was at the store, before we got the Captain, I grabbed a soda, so that I could make it home.
We got the Captain, climbed back into the van, loathing the fact that we had to be ready for a baseball game in two hours, with 4 cranky, sick kids.
I took the slowest, most direct path home, setting my stinking cruise control at 29 mph, in a 35, let the bubbly taste of sugar and caffeine sooth away the headache, tuned out more steering wheel questions, back-seat-quibbling, and the sound of a SCREAMING baby who had past her limit of car time somewhere around hour 4- and let the bubbly taste of sugar and caffeine carry me away to my happy place. Where I began to make a mental note to blog about the fact that my two-year-old, who will surely turn out to be a genius, had just cost me a nearly calorie-perfect day.
And then, that's when OUT OF NO WHERE, a cop stepped into the road, his stinking radar gun pointed RIGHT AT ME!
Apparently I driving responsibly in a school zone, for some IMAGINARY school that I don't even know if it really exists. Sure enough, there was a crossing guard hiding in the bushes, waiting to help the IMAGINARY school children across the road.
Stupid revenue-generating government programs. I can just imagine that conversation. "The state is in a budget short-fall, because we can't figure out how to count. What should we do to raise money?" "Ooo! Ooo! ME! I Know! We should set up imaginary school zones, have a bunch of cops hiding in a parking lot, and bust people who AREN'T REALLY SPEEDING! It'll be awesome!"
Sure, paying absorbant speeding fines will re-boot the economy. Ug.
Though I do have to say that I was really proud of Lilly. She continued screaming bloody murder when I was pulled over, and the entire time the guy was writing me the ticket. In the end, he decided that I was only going 9 mph over the IMAGINARY school speed limit, wich cut my ticket in half.
I hope he told his wife when he got home, and she made him sleep on the couch. Eeesh. I hope he hasn't been able to sleep all week, just thinking about the poor, haggared mother he wrote a giant ticket for, while he was trying to catch IMAGINARY speeders.
Though there is a part two to this... but that will have to wait, because I've only compleated 4.45 of my mandatory driving hours today, and the Captian might be a little offened if I don't show.
You see, it all started at 7:20 am. The four kids and I hopped into the van and headed off for school. Since we moved, our commute is now 30 minutes instead of 10. We dropped the Captain off at about 8, ran a fast errand, then dropped the Adventurer off at 9. I got back into the van, only to find that it was dead, and spent the next 45 minutes begging someone to give me a jump. Why do these things happen when Brandon is out of town?!?!
We got home at 10:00, played for two hours, and then left to pick up the Adventurer, who gets out of school at 12:30, exactly 2 hours before the Captain.
We went to the Library. We went to the grocery store. We got to the Captain's school early and waited.
Now why do I bother to tell a long story about my new 5.5 hours of commuting?
For the very simple reason that the Entertainer, my two-year-old who looks like a 4 year-old, and has a gigantic vocabulary and equally large cranium, is still very much two. There had been 5 hours of questions: "Mommy, what are those buttons on the stearing wheal?" "They are for the cruise control." "No, but what do they say?" And I go through the list: Accelerate, Resume, Cancel, On, Off, Cruice, Reset, some 40 million times over the course of 5 hours in the car that day. Over and over.
So while I was at the store, before we got the Captain, I grabbed a soda, so that I could make it home.
We got the Captain, climbed back into the van, loathing the fact that we had to be ready for a baseball game in two hours, with 4 cranky, sick kids.
I took the slowest, most direct path home, setting my stinking cruise control at 29 mph, in a 35, let the bubbly taste of sugar and caffeine sooth away the headache, tuned out more steering wheel questions, back-seat-quibbling, and the sound of a SCREAMING baby who had past her limit of car time somewhere around hour 4- and let the bubbly taste of sugar and caffeine carry me away to my happy place. Where I began to make a mental note to blog about the fact that my two-year-old, who will surely turn out to be a genius, had just cost me a nearly calorie-perfect day.
And then, that's when OUT OF NO WHERE, a cop stepped into the road, his stinking radar gun pointed RIGHT AT ME!
Apparently I driving responsibly in a school zone, for some IMAGINARY school that I don't even know if it really exists. Sure enough, there was a crossing guard hiding in the bushes, waiting to help the IMAGINARY school children across the road.
Stupid revenue-generating government programs. I can just imagine that conversation. "The state is in a budget short-fall, because we can't figure out how to count. What should we do to raise money?" "Ooo! Ooo! ME! I Know! We should set up imaginary school zones, have a bunch of cops hiding in a parking lot, and bust people who AREN'T REALLY SPEEDING! It'll be awesome!"
Sure, paying absorbant speeding fines will re-boot the economy. Ug.
Though I do have to say that I was really proud of Lilly. She continued screaming bloody murder when I was pulled over, and the entire time the guy was writing me the ticket. In the end, he decided that I was only going 9 mph over the IMAGINARY school speed limit, wich cut my ticket in half.
I hope he told his wife when he got home, and she made him sleep on the couch. Eeesh. I hope he hasn't been able to sleep all week, just thinking about the poor, haggared mother he wrote a giant ticket for, while he was trying to catch IMAGINARY speeders.
Though there is a part two to this... but that will have to wait, because I've only compleated 4.45 of my mandatory driving hours today, and the Captian might be a little offened if I don't show.
Hot Stuff
The Adventurer tells me on the way home from school today, "Mom, the mean girls were REALLY nice to me today."
"Oh buddy, I'm so glad!"
"Ya, they must think I'm handsome." He smiles and shrugs.
He's right- he is pretty handsome, and it is amazing how mean girls are suddenly nice, when they notice a handsome boy.
Maybe women are more shallow than we like to think we are...
"Oh buddy, I'm so glad!"
"Ya, they must think I'm handsome." He smiles and shrugs.
He's right- he is pretty handsome, and it is amazing how mean girls are suddenly nice, when they notice a handsome boy.
Maybe women are more shallow than we like to think we are...
Monday, May 4, 2009
Homework
The Captains Homework: Use your spelling words in a sentence. All was going well until we got to the word, "bottom."
His sentence was, "My bottom stinks."
"Hmm," I say between giggles, "Maybe you shouldn't write that."
"How about, 'I can touch my bottom?'"
"No, don't write about your bottom."
"How about, 'I can touch your bottom."
"Never mind." I say. "You can write about your stinky bottom. That's not to bad."
His sentence was, "My bottom stinks."
"Hmm," I say between giggles, "Maybe you shouldn't write that."
"How about, 'I can touch my bottom?'"
"No, don't write about your bottom."
"How about, 'I can touch your bottom."
"Never mind." I say. "You can write about your stinky bottom. That's not to bad."
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