On the subject of purses.

I have a purse, but I very rarely use it. I can't stand purses. They get in the way and you have to remember that you have one or you might just leave it somewhere, and that's bad. I only use them if I need to carry money or a credit card or a driver's license, or lip stuff or something and I don't have pockets.

Now that I have a sewing machine and I vaguely know how to use it, my new goal is to create a whole bunch of clothing for myself wherein all items that cover the lower portion of my body will have pockets. I am thinking of making a skirt with camouflage material. And ample pocket space. I think the camouflage material for women's clothing trend has passed, but to hell with trends, says I! Then I was also thinking of making a pouch that could be worn around the waist to hold things. Not like a fanny pack, because those are silly. More like a medieval renaissance person's kind of waist pouch.

I thought of all that because I was thinking of making some little red drawstring pouches for the girls as my next sewing project. I think I'll go do that now. Yay!

"I love fastness. It's the bestest part about being a kid."

~Saren

I know. Cuz when you get all old like me, it's difficult to even get from the livingroom to the kitchen in a timely manner. Oh, me achin' bones.

I decided to get a tattoo for my thirtieth birthday. It will be a kind of rite of passage. I would like to have something that symbolizes how I feel that I am finally getting to the point that I am really figuring out who I am. I also want something to symbolize motherhood and womanhood. I could get a butterfly because that symbolizes rebirth and transformation or I could get a symbol that means motherhood or I could do some kind of goddess type thingy. Or I could get an Amy Brown fairy because they are so beautiful. If I got a monkey tattoo that would solve everything. If fact, I don't even know why I'm contemplating anything else.

I finally took out my sewing machine that I bought a couple of months ago and I sewed two teensy little pillows for Saren's barbies and Harper's babies to get myself in the hang of how to use it. I think I kept putting it off because I was apprehensive that it would be too hard or something. Actually, though, it was rather easy. I used to use my mother's sewing machine very, very occasionally when I was a kid, so it wasn't like it was all new.

In conclusion, yaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!

It's all in the napkins.

How much a waiter or waitress gets from me as a tip when we go to a restaurant is completely dependent upon whether he or she brings us extra napkins. No other factor is as important as this. You would think we were a terribly messy family, but we're not that bad really. The house is a mess, but we can manage to eat without smearing food all over our foreheads. It's just that I came up with this criteria when Saren was a baby and did smear food all over her forehead frequently and I've just sort of stuck with it.

Saren had her second Acting Up class today and the teacher still doesn't know what her name is.

Turnabouts are not good road designs. Either they just don't make sense or Summerlin (upscale Vegas soccer mom land) doesn't know how to do them right.

What I learned today: I don't like pecan pie.

"I feel like a quote out of context..."

~Ben Folds

I am now listening to Ben Folds Live and I would totally marry Ben Folds if P@ were not available. He's got the best god damn lyrics and he's good looking in that not very good looking way. This could get me into a whole discussion about what type of guy makes my list of people to marry if P@ were not available, but I'll save it for another time. I'll just say that Doug from Trading Spaces is pretty up there. He's such an asshole. (That's not why I would marry him.) Pat says he (Pat) isn't available. Haha. Mr. Literal.

A minute ago I answered the telephone and when I found it was a telemarketer (I mean a recording of a telemarketer), I screamed "Bleeeaaaarrrrgggggghhhh!!!!" into the receiver. Pat thought it was really amusing. Far more amusing than I did. I want to do that every time there's a telemarketer even when it's a live person, but I never do. It was pretty satisfying, so maybe I'll make it a habit.

I think I'd also like to be Ben Folds if I were not available to be me.

I usually wear defrizzulator on my hair because it ends up fantastically retarded if I don't. I don't have a particular brand that I always get, so the last time I bought some called Citre Shine. It smells like oranges, which I really like. But, yesterday when we went to the park, there was a bee who thought I was pretty cool and it wouldn't leave me alone. It followed me around and buzzed around my head. I don't like bees. Bees buzzing around my head, I like even less. I went outside today to check the sprinkler that had been leaking and as I was coming back in I heard in close proximity to my ear, "bzzzzzz." I wonder if it was the same bee.

I... feel... blaaaahhhh.

I'm tired of clearly demented people. And stalking in the normal person sense is all well and good, but stalking in the demented person sense makes me feel, frankly, nervous.

I've also been reading a bunch of John Taylor Gatto articles and they are making me feel vaguely depressed at my lost childhood.

I'm tired of being sold things. I'm tired of commercials and shopping flyers for things I don't need being sent to my mailbox every day of the week (well okay, not Sunday). I'm tired of people or machines calling me to try and sell me things I don't need. I'm tired of blinking, flashing, pulsing, shaking, tricky pop-up ads. I'm tired of wanting stuff. I'm tired, tired, tired. And I have a headache.

I want to have a life full of things that matter. I want to give support to get support, not make products to get products. I want to live in clean air and near trees and plants and flowers and caterpillars and birds and squirrels. I want my children to not be buried in a huge pile of things-- manufactured, bright, shiny, unimaginative things. I want them to be able to entertain themselves and I want them to cherish the things that they do have because those things are special and meaningful and useful. I don't want my children to be bombarded a thousand times a day by people who tell them that they need whatever it is that they are selling. I want to be able to do things for myself instead of always waiting for someone else to tell me what to do or to do it for me. I want people to treat the earth with respect, not out of a sense of moral obligation, but because doing anything any other way would be unthinkable. I want my children to own their own time and to be free to pursue their own passions.

All of these things seem so ...I don't know. Like I'm not asking for a lot. I mean, shouldn't the world just be that way? Doesn't it seem like all those things I said I wanted should just naturally be available to all people? Then why does it seem like I'm swimming upstream? Why do I feel like I'm fighting against a huge crowd of people going the wrong way down a one way street? It doesn't make sense to me. And it's not just other people. It's not just that I feel like I'm in the midst of a huge human flow going the opposite direction, I also feel like I'm fighting against myself. Half of me wants to turn around and be carried by the current.

The Care Bear Cousins Are So Second Rate

I am feeling sad today (I mean right now, I wasn't feeling sad all day, I shouldn't be so misleading) because I have three little brothers and I hardly ever see them or talk to them. One of them started college this year and I didn't even remember that he was going to be going to college this year until today. I suck. But also, it just sucks that we are so far apart in our ages. Which is why I should have another child right now if I don't want the same thing to happen to my kids. Where's a P@ when you need one?

In other news, I meant for us to go to the library for a Saturday Family Fun thing, but 11am was just too early for us. Sometimes my life is rather surreal in its non-resemblance to regular people's lives.

I am delaying making a new entry in the 2 Girls blog because I promised that I would put a bunch of pictures in my next entry and I didn't count on my being too lazy to resize them. That's so silly! Why in the world would I not count on that?!?

Dilemma: should I be patient and make it into a scarf or should I be impatient and make it into a dishcloth?

"Everyone knows that something's wrong, but nobody knows what's going on, we all sing the same old song..."

~Phantom Planet
I see lots of lyrics in an Ishmaelian light these days.

I had some observations about knitting. Firstly, I haven't been able to finish anything yet because I am impatient. Secondly, there is a lot of math involved in knitting. It doesn't look exactly like the math that school sells you though. There's the relationship between the size of the needles and the size of the stitches and the size of the yarn. And I recently had the revelation that a knit stitch and a purl stitch are really the same thing, but from opposite sides. Just like 4+7 is the same as 7+4.

Saren had her first acting class today. It went fairly well. I like the teacher even though she seemed to have already committed to memory everyone's name but Saren's. She is exuberant. She also spends all her class-time doing actual drama-related things. Saren took another acting class through the community schools before and the teacher in that one spent most of the time having the kids do crafts. Um, crafts? I didn't get it. Anyway, they played a game where they all sat in a circle and one kid stood in the center and said, "My neighbor something something." Only the something something was supposed to be something that you could use to describe a person (or a character) like, "My neighbor is wearing a blue shirt" or "My neighbor like cats." Then all the kids to whom the sentence applied to had to get up and run to a different seat, as did the kid who had said the neighbor sentence in the first place. Well, most of the kids were 6 years old just like Saren (there were a few who were older) and they were a little unsure of themselves and couldn't really think of what to say. So at the beginning they got into this rut where they were all saying, "My neighbor goes to school." And every single other kid got up and ran to another seat and Saren didn't. This was in the very beginning of the game and she hadn't been able to get up and run yet because nothing had applied to her yet. The other kids did this same sentence like 5 or 6 times in a row. (possible exaggeration) And then they did, "My neighbor walks home from school" and "My neighbor walks to school." Luckily, the teacher eventually told them not to do anything school related anymore. And after that, there were a lot of things that Saren could get up and run around for.

I am very slowly coming to a better understanding of the population issue. The people at Ishcon are helping out somewhat and I'm also reading a bunch of question and answer stuff at the Ishmael website. When I get a really good (or better than it is now) grasp on it, I will attempt to write about it again. And I will include all the things that confused me. Also, someone new registered at the Ishcon board and made a post in my thread. I don't know who he or she is, but I can tell just by reading their stuff that they are dead sexy. [/really!]

Oh, yes. And we are once again considering making a trip to LA in October. If we do, we will most likely go to Disneyland and stop by the party for a short while. It's still in the thinking about it stages though. People should go to Disneyland with us if we do go.

Everwood Makes Me Cry

Not really. But it makes Pat cry! Point at him and laugh! Hey! Quit laughing at my husband! Who do you think you are?

The email notification definitely doesn't work as well as it should. I think it is the fault of AOL and not Reblogger, much as I hate to say it (9.0 is yummy!).

I abandoned my ugly bag and started knitting a scarf (because scarves are rather simple), but I screwed up and I think I'll start over.

I posted something at Ishcon asking for help in understanding the population issue.

Our library doesn't have jack.

I have several boring things to say.

Firstly, I finally changed my comments so that I get an email notification whenever I get new comments. I thought that if someone were to comment on an older entry, I would want to know about it. And, what do you know? Someone left a comment on an older entry! It was a bit confusing, because it had to do with Ishmael and I thought that it would be on the previous entry, but it wasn't. It was on another entry that dealt with Ishmael. Also, it was a good one. Woohoo! It makes me wonder if there have been any other comments left on older entries that I have missed completely. That makes me sad, but I don't think I want to go through all the older entries to find out. Also, there were a few comments that I didn't have emails for. I am hoping that it is because it takes a while and not because Reblogger just picks and chooses which comments it wants me to know about.

Secondly, I have decided to swear off fast food. I am writing it here because I want to stick with it. If I've told you all about it, I will be far more likely to actually follow through. The reason this has come about is that today we had McDonald's food and it made me sick for a large-ish portion of the day. I had a bad headache that wouldn't go away with Tylenol (generic) and I was all nauseous. This has happened more than once. It doesn't happen with food that I make at home. And I don't even particularly like fast food. There is one thing and one thing only that fast food has going for it. It is fast. Laziness is the only thing that drives me to purchase fast food and that really has to stop. It drains our pocketbook and it is rarely even worth it. Plus, if there's any job in the world that can accurately be called "wage slave," a fast food worker is it. I should do a better job of putting my money into better businesses. There are a few places that fall into the fast food category that I will continue to go to. Like Rubio's Baja Grill is fast food, but it's well-made, quality, fast food. And it's freaking yummy. I also like El Pollo Loco, but no one else in my family likes it. And that's that.

Thirdly,... oh! There is no thirdly.

Edit: No, I remember what I was going to say. I've been blogging too much. I usually slow down a bit on the weekends or after any thought-filled entries because I don't want people to feel overwhelmed, and I didn't this time. For that I am sorry. A little.

The End of the World as We Know It

I feel okay. Fine, even.

Uh oh, overflow, population.

I wanted to write about what I learned about overpopulation from Ishmael. I'm still in a process of internalising Ishmael (I keep typing 's' instead of 'z', so I'm just going with that) and this will help.

Let's see. The first thing is this. There is a basic law of ecology that says that if a population's food supply increases, the population will increase. I was doing a search for this law and at first I thought it was Malthusian law, but it's not. Malthusian law says that a population will always outgrow its subsistence unless checked by misery or vice (famine or war). The reason for that, he said, was the human sexual drive and, in particular, the insatiablity of the human male. That was ridiculous so I'll leave it behind. I still can't figure out if that law has a name though. Here is a funny little movie with a mouse in it that illustrates it.

People say that this law doesn't apply to humans because we are under the impression that we are seperate from the rest of the community of life. What applies to zebras and lions and squirrels and spiders and birds doesn't apply to us. They say that because we have free will and can make choices about our reproduction that we can keep our population in check regardless of how much food we happen to be producing. In that mouse movie there is a chart that shows what the earth's population has been over the past 12,000 years. Up until the agricultural revolution, the earth's human population grew a very small amount over a very long period of time. But once we started trying to control the production of food with agriculture, our population exploded. The amount of time it has taken for our population to double has dramatically decreased. The last doubling took place over a period of about 40 years. Just forty years. It took about 130 years to get from 1 billion to 2 billion. So how exactly has our free will regarding reproduction been of any help to us in the past? It's all well and good for me to say that Pat and I will only have 2 children, thus replacing ourselves (which I won't say anyway), but that only works on an individual level. On a worldwide level, human beings are part of the living community and we are subject to the same laws as the rest of the living community.

Every time I do a search on population explosion or control, I come across this piece of information that our population is expected to peak at 9 billion in 2070 (or thereabouts) and then start to decline, but nowhere do they say why they think this. To me it seems like something that was pulled out of the scientific community's ass so that people could feel better.

I also see a whole lot of stuff on the internet that is urging us to increase food production so that we can feed the starving millions. We've been increasing our food production year after year after year and the starving millions just increase and increase. Why does this not register? From what I can gather, most of the population increase comes from third world countries and most of the food production comes from us. That doesn't mean they aren't related, it means that we keep giving them more and more food. That was the way I understood it.

Damn. I'm losing my train of thought.

Anyhoo, here are a couple of links on this subject. This one is in pdf format and it's a paper. I haven't read all of it yet. This one is from the Ishmael site and it is about a reindeer population that exceeded its carrying capacity and some of the other stuff I talked about.

If you know any more about overpopulation or any of the things I have talked about, let me know.

Oh, and Pat wanted me to tie up the end with that REM song so, um... Lenny Bruce is not afraid.

Where the hell are my scissors?

Seriously. I have two pair and each of the girls have one pair and I can't find any of them. Do you know where they are? I'm trying to make a princess hat.

The water guy knocked on our door today to tell us that our usage had gone from 20,000 gallons last month to 324,000 gallons this month and that we probably had a leak. Hm. Ya think? At first I thought he had come to chastise me for not changing the sprinkler schedule yet to the new MWF drought restrictions. I was all set to say, "But... but... I was definitely going to do it today! I swear! Don't take me to water abuse jail!" But then I didn't have to. That's good because I don't want to be anybody's water-waste-criminal bitch.

So we went out to the backyard and found that the sprinkler valves were completely submerged in water. It smelled like a swamp. Lovely. Now I feel all guilty because my dad pays the water bill (we rent the house from him) and it's not just going to be 15 times what it was last month, it's going to be more because once you get into a higher usage bracket the price goes up. Bleah. I've always thought that when we buy a house (if we ever do that), that I wanted to get an older house, but I've been rethinking that ever since we moved in here.

Ever since I read Annika's report of her extortion, I have been thinking of getting a seasonal job. Probably at a book store. I know I promised myself that I would never have a regular job ever again, but a seasonal, just for the holidays job isn't really regular, is it? Ugh. I want to, but I don't want to. It would give us extra money to put away for Oregon and it would give us extra money for X-mas, but it would also take me away from the girls and it would lessen my time with Pat because we would work opposite sides of the clock. Aren't the holidays about family togetherness? Wouldn't it defeat the purpose? Plus regular jobs make me miserable. I wish... I wish... something.

I think I will go have some ice cream.

Ack! New Things on the Blogger! I Hate Change!

We bought 29 books (I think) for a hundred dollars. Yay for splurging money we probably shouldn't be splurging! But... but... books! I keep saying this in one form or another. It should be a sign.

Ugh. Pat is watching Angel. It's reminding me of all the retarded stuff I didn't like. I prefer to watch Buffy and Angel just once, recap all the good and the crappy, and then forget about it. There are a few shows that I can watch more than once, but neither of those are in that category.

I have nothing to say. What a crappy entry.

I'm ho ahited!

There is this big ol' all remainders* bookstore that we discovered today. It's in a buidling that looks like it either used to be or soon will be a Tower Records or something. It's just filled up with super low-priced books. And they aren't all crappy rejects either! I saw tons of stuff that I want to get. So we are going back tomorrow and the budget for new-book getting is just huge. Huge, I tell you.

Also, I really, really like it when people who are in customer service positions are friendly and nice and agreeable and so on, but I have a hard time with people who take it way, way overboard. We went to Applebee's to eat tonight because we are stupid and the hostess who showed us to our seats was one of these over-the-top with the enthusiasm people that make me want to take a nap when they finally leave me alone. "Hi! How are you all doing tonight?!?!!!!!!!!! Smoking or non?(!!!!!)" But the most annoying thing was the way she turned to her coworker and said something to her in a perfectly normal tone of voice and then turned back to us with the super-exaggerated excitement in her voice. It just made it all the more clear that the way she was treating us was sparkly and fake. I don't like to be overly picky where sevice positions are concerned, because I've been there myself, but good lord! Being around her for 30 seconds was just exhausting.

*You probably know what remainders are, but Pat didn't so I'll explain it just in case. Remainders are the extra books that they publish but don't sell. Stuff normally found on the bargain table at B&N and such. I don't know if all the books at that store were remainders. It seemed like there was a lot of stuff that was definitely not of the type of thing that you would find on a bargain table, but rather on the shelf. But maybe they were remainders that normal stores wouldn't get. It's a mystery.

USA Today?! Hey! I know someone who worked for them!

I seem to remember someone saying that they were having a hard time finding stuff in their internet search that supported the anti-homeschooling stance. I don't even know if you're reading anymore, dude, but here you go. That article is full of crap and operates on the same assumptions that lots of other people who haven't done their research operate on (for example, homeschooling=isolated), but hey, what are ya gonna do? Thank you to Andrea for the link.

In other news, the phone company came out and fixed one of our wires. I don't know yet if we are going to have to pay for it. But, internet! Hoorah! I think I have an unhealthy addiction. Because of my being unable to really access the internet, my knitting is coming along swimmingly.

Phone Drama

Our phone was having a lof of static and it was interfering with our modem's connection to the internet. Apparantly, if you want to be able to connect to the internet reliably through a phone line, you have got to have a perfectly clear phone line and any static will cause the connection to be excruciatingly slow and websites will blink in and out of existence if you can get them to show up at all. So, I thought our 8 year old phone was finally kicking the bucket. We went out and bought a new one today and I hooked it up and guess what? Still staticky! Bah! I wonder if that's how you spell staticky.

Anyway, I then thought it might be the wires to the phone because when we moved into this house, I had to do some MacGeyver (I wonder if that's how you spell MacGeyver, my spelling hat is at the cleaners) stuff on the wiring just to make it work at all. I thought that maybe the wires were finally kicking the bucket. But much tinkering with the wires caused no discernible change. I brought the other phone into the bedroom and there was still static, so I figured it must be a phone company problem. Pat called them up and they told us to unplug the phone for two minutes and it would reset itself. So I did that.

And now the phone seems to be good.

For now [/ominous].

Moving on. Last night I had a dream that I was in middle school. Most of my recent school dreams have been in middle school or junior high. I don't know why. Anyway, I was at a middle school reunion that lasted a whole school day and everyone had to go to the classes that they had when they were attending the school for the same amount of time that they had to back then. We didn't have to do any work, but we had to sit in assigned seats. After much amusement in the first class, the bell rang and we were supposed to go the next class. But I couldn't remember what my next class was. I was standing in the middle of the hall and complaining that I was never going to be able to remember what and where my second period class was from 16 years ago. I don't remember much more than that, but it reminds me of another middle school dream I had recently where I was in a P.E. class and I didn't want to go play whatever everybody was playing. I refused to get dressed and I left the school and walked home to my dream mother who said she totally supported my decision and that there was no reason for me to go to P.E. class if I didn't find anything worthwhile in it.

I've often had school stress dreams. Lots of times I have to open my locker and I can't remember the combination or I have to go to a class that I have ditched all year and I can't remember where it is. Or I haven't been to the class for so long that the teacher doesn't remember who I am. I think school stress dreams are very common and I think that it's pretty interesting that the mind's ultimate stress metaphor is so often school, even when the dreamer has been out of school for a very long time. I've noticed that lately there has been a new note in my school stress dreams. More and more often I am getting upset and angry in my dreams that other people are trying to run my life. More and more often I tell my dream teacher to fuck off and I tell myself to get a grip because there's nothing holding me to that place.

And to tie this to what I wrote yesterday, I think school is a very powerful thing in making a person submit to authority. I'm not saying that school is the only thing that makes a person less likely to question authority and I'm not saying that school made you, dear reader, more likely to submit to authority [/disclaimer]. What I'm saying is that I think I see a definite connection between what school does to people and what I failed to do when I was at the hospital having my baby. School teaches people to stay in line. School teaches people that the people who are in authority know more than you do and are not to be questioned. Teachers and principals are exchanged for nurses and doctors (in that case).

And this is, in part, why my children won't go to school. It's also why I am working toward a less punitive form of parenting. It's also why when I don't know something I say so and help my children to find answers. It's also why I always strive to admit when I have made a mistake with my children and I make amends with them. It's why when my kids say no to me, when I have told them to do something, I try very hard to listen to them and to figure out why instead of engaging in a power struggle which I will eventually win because I am bigger. I want them to grow up powerful. Not overindulged, but powerful.

Finally, to move in a completely different direction, I re-taught myself to knit. I started an ugly, yellow bag. I already have finished about four super-long rows. My hands hurt. I don't know if it's because my hands are pathetically weak or if I was just holding the needles too tensely. Anyway, the bag is ugly, but it's easy. I am hoping to be able to make some stuff for X-mas presents.

Harper's Birth Story

Here are the important bits:

• We tried to go to the hospital at 2am, but they told us to go home because I wasn't ready. I knew they were wrong, but I went home anyway.
  
• We returned at 5am and they let us stay. I tried to tell them that it would go very quickly, but they were not prepared to listen to me.
  
• My doctor was unavailable, so they called the doctor on call (the on-call doctor delivered Saren too). I told them that it would go quickly and they should tell her to hurry up, but they were not prepared to listen.
  
• When I felt ready to push, I told the nurse about it and she told me not to until the doctor got there. Inside I was pissed off, but outside I was too used to doing what I was told, so I didn't push. Here's a little bit of trivia for you: if you're having a baby and your body is telling you to push and you don't do what it says, it hurts like a mother fucker. And having a baby in general hurts like a mother fucker, but this is just like pain on top of pain.
  
• After the doctor finally did get there, and I could push, the doctor said the baby wasn't coming out fast enough and she said she was going to use a suction thingy to get her out. Again, I wasn't strong enough to dispute this, plus I felt like I was not the one in charge and what did I know anyway, PLUS I was in a hell of a lot of pain and I didn't really feel like making a lot of decisions. So the doctor put this toilet plunger in me and pulled my baby out.
  
• Afterward, I was certain that she would have come out just freaking fine without the use of any toilet plunger that drilled a tiny hole in the top of my newborn's head. She had the umbilical cord around her neck, yes, but that's a common occurence, and she was coming fast. Saren was fast, Harper was fast. When that ridiculous doctor said that she wasn't coming out fast enough, she was lying or high. Anyway, I'll let that go now, because I don't want to think about it anymore.
  
• Harper nursed for about a half an hour straight. She was perfectly content and happy just being so close to me and attached to the breast. The nurse came by and told me that I shouldn't nurse her so long or I would ruin my breasts. AGAIN, not feeling like I knew better than her and not being strong enough myself, I did what she said. And Harper cried and cried and did not stop for the rest of the night. She also wouldn't nurse anymore. She woudn't take a bottle. She didn't stop crying when her diaper was changed. She didn't stop crying when Pat and I were holding her and rocking her all night. I am now convinced that if I had just left her where she was, she would have been fine. I hadn't done any reading about breastfeeding at that point, but I now know that that nurse was lying. Or, at the very least, she was uninformed. Nursing a baby as long as that baby wants to be nursed whether it's for half an hour or a full hour straight is not going to ruin anybody's breasts. That's what they are there for. Of course, they are never going to be what they once were, but Jesus, lady, if you're going to be a nurse in the maternity ward, at least try to get your facts straight. Urgh. Now this is making me mad so I'll leave it behind too.
  
• Saren was right outside the door while Harper was being born. She walked in about 2 minutes afterward and was one of the first people to see her sister.
  
• I already mentioned this in the other entry about Saren's birth, but it's an important part of the story. The doctor kept saying to me that I shouldn't scream when I was pushing. She kept telling me to "save it for the push." I very much wanted to kick her in the face. I may not have mentioned it already, but the toilet plunger thingy made it hurt more too so screams were not exactly easy to keep in.
  
• Even though I was in a very posh hospital and I finally had my own private room and they didn't take my baby away from me except for feedings like they did with Saren, I still can remember this feeling of wanting to get the hell out of there so badly. At a time when I should have been able to get as much rest as possible, I was just counting the minutes until I had been there long enough to satisfy them.
  
• Pat's parents and his nephew came to visit and they wouldn't leave. I was so deperate to take a shower and start getting packed up to leave, but they wouldn't take any hints, and eventually I had to just be blunt and tell them that I wanted them to leave.
  
• Harper had a little white t-shirt that I embroidered "Little Sister" on. Saren had a white t-shirt with "I'm a Big Sister!" painted on it.
  

If there ever is a next time, this is what I will do differently. I will have a midwife or I will have nothing. I will have a homebirth or I will have a birth in a birthing center. I will have a much clearer understanding of the process of birth and what I can object to and what kind of medical interventions I should not object to if they come up. I will know what I want and I will make sure that everyone involved knows what I want and I will be stronger in saying no if someone tries to tell me otherwise. I will not allow anyone to do anything to my baby after he or she is born. Either I or Pat will bathe the baby and then it will be in my arms. No one is going to prick it's heel and no one is going to press their cold fingers against its body to measure it and no one is going to weigh it and no one is going to apgar it unless it's visually from the perspective of my arms.

I don't want to give the impression that Harper's birth was all negative stuff, because of course it wasn't. It was the birth of my daughter and it was beautiful. It's just that there were little bits in there that I really could have done without and if I could do it all again, I would definitely do it differently. I hate that these little things are there to mar an otherwise wonderful memory.

Title?

A conversation that Harper and I have been having repeatedly over the past couple of weeks ~
Harper: Who mama mia?
Me: I'm mama mia.
Harper: No! You mama! Not mama mia!

Sometimes my conversations with her are so surreal. I have been meaning to start a collection of things I have said that I probably never would have had a chance to utter if I didn't have children. Things that I would never have any reason to say unless I was perhaps, high. I always forget to write them down though. But I have one that I didn't forget about and I will put it here without any further ado:

"I know that you would be upset if you got cheese in your pony's hair."

Pressure, pressure.

I've been pressured into telling a story about What Happened at the Mall. I'm afraid after you read it you won't really find that the story deserved those capital letters, but alas, I am a woman of my husband's word. Or something.

So, we went to Chevy's at the mall to eat dinner tonight. While we were there we saw a group of youngsters congregate a couple of times near the entrance of the restaurant. By youngsters I mean, like, between the ages of 18 and 22 because to me, that's pretty damn young now. Anyway, one of the boys had a spiked mohawk hairdo and one of them had a spiked-all-over hairdo. His spikes were probably about 7 or 8 inches long. I think they were talking to a friend who worked at Chevy's and then they went out into the mall. About 15 minutes later I saw a mall security guy escorting the two spikey guys out of the mall. (There had been other youngsters with them, these were the only two being escorted out.) I got all indignantly angry in their general direction (without their noticing of course) and told Pat that if they were kicking them out of the mall because of their hair that I would go over and kick that security gaurd's fat white ass. But we didn't know the whole story so I kept my ass-kicking pants stowed away for the time being. Then, later, Pat went out to the car to put our box of leftovers in it and in doing so, he passed the security guys and the spikey-headed guys and overheard a little bit. Apparantly, the mohawk guy had been running on the escalator. Yes, running on the escalator. So, clearly, it wasn't about hairdos at all. Because running on the escalator is a huge misdemeanor in the Book of Mall Rules and Regulations. Everybody knows that. Sometimes when little children do it, they kick out whole families. Seriously. May I take a moment here to strenuously roll my eyes? [ROLLEYES] And they had a mall security car follow their car out of the parking lot. And there was some kind of something said about trespassing, so clearly they were not allowed to come back anytime soon.

Anyway, Pat and I said it would be funny to go to the mall and be dressed up all punk-like and have Saren and Harper Wholesome with us and spend a whole boatload of money in a whole bunch of stores and be carrying lots of bags and be mildly annoying. Like just a little bit too loud and running on an empty escalator and whatever else we could think of. To see what would happen.

Other stuff: At first I had problems with Monster's Ball. Skip this paragraph if you haven't seen it and have plans to. At first I didn't like Halle Berry's character because I thought the character wasn't fully fleshed out. It seemed like she was just this big ball of sadness and there wasn't really anything else to her and I just didn't get a real feel for who she was. But then I thought, well at different times in our lives we are different people. This movie was just a small portion of her life and during this small portion of her life, she was a ball of sadness. So all you really get from her is grief and vulnerability and that's actually okay. The other thing that I didn't like was that the Billy Bob's character (I have a hard time with character's names) at the beginning of the movie didn't mesh with what he was at the end. I mean, I understand he changed a lot from the things that he experienced, but it just didn't seem right to me that he changed to the extent that he did. And he was still a long way from being what regular people would consider "without prejudices." But then I kind of took the end of the movie and extended it in my imagination and furthered his journey and her journey and it made more sense to me. The other other thing that bothered me was that there seemed to be a lot of funky cinematography and some of it worked and some of it didn't. For example, during the part where Halle Berry's husband is in the chair, they also go back to what she is doing and there is a shot where she is in front of the mirror washing her face. The shot is the reflection from two different mirrors. One is from her neck to her belly and the other mirror shows her face in a seperate place. That was pretty good because it gave a sense of disconnectedness. But they also had an inordinate amount of shots where the person's face was looking out of the screen, but their nose was up against the edge of the screen and there was all this empty space behind their head. I'm not sure what that's supposed to suggest. To me, it just seemed like, "Look at us! We're doing this in a weird way!" Anyway, that movie just tore me up while we were watching it. Afterward, I found things that I didn't like, but after further thought I didn't not like a lot of those things anymore.

Other other stuff: I got from the library a couple more young adult book which I can't remember the titles of right now, a book about knitting because I want to learn how, a gigantic vegetarian cookbook, and a book with short stories by Anne McCaffrey.

The End.

Crap. There was a meth lab across the street and I didn't know it.

Unrelated to the title: I was thinking today that I'm starting to internalize some of the Quinn stuff. This is because I keep seeing connections in the world around me that are my own thoughts, but that are clearly Quinn-inspired.

Today I was thinking about our throw-away society. Specifically about the myriad of products that exist that are cheap and poorly made that break easily and get tossed away so that something else can be bought to replace it. Clearly the making of these billions of products is not good for the planet, in terms of resources used and pollution created. And clearly the disposal of these products is not good for the planet in that they fill up already overflowing landfills. Why can't we just have well-made products that are built to last so that we can cut down on the production waste and the disposal waste? Well, of course the answer lies in the fact that there is a huge market for cheaply made products in the millions of people who can't afford better-made stuff. People who need or want to buy something and they can't afford the built-to-last product, which may end up being less expensive in the long run, buy the cheap-o product because it is less expensive in the short run. But this market only exists because we have a hierarchical structure to our society and as long as we stick with it, there will always be a class of people at the bottom who can't afford the better products. And the hierarchical structure, according to Quinn, arose from the adoption of totalitarian agriculture.

None of that is to say that people at the top don't buy all kinds throw-away crap themselves, I'm just referring to some of the things that when they are bought cheaper, fall into disrepair far more quickly. Like crappy plastic shelving won't last very long opposed to sturdy wooden shelves, and a $50 DVD player will probably become unusable far sooner than a more expensive one. And the thing that got me thinking about it in the first place was housing. Certain houses are just not really built to last. We drove past a bunch of houses that I think were the Las Vegas version of the projects and they were all boarded up and not being used. I was figuring that they were so crappily built (and they can't be more than 50 years old) that they would probably just be torn down and something new would replace them. Most likely something not built to last and the cycle will just keep on ...cycling.

Also, I do know that hierarchical societies are not exactly something that we, as civilized people, have sole propietorship over, but nobody does it quite like us. Also, also a lot of the people there at the bottom of the pyramid work in jobs that create the throw-away products. Connections.

Relating to the title: We went out today to run a bunch of errands. When we got back, it was nearing dark and we pulled into the driveway not really noticing much. Then I got out of the car and looked across the street and there were a whole bunch of police officers all dressed up in s.w.a.t. team-like uniforms on the lawn of our across the street neighbors. I had no idea what was going on, but I was worried because what if there was some crazy guy with a gun holed up in there? (Didn't occur to me that we probably would have been blocked from turning into the neighborhood if that had been the case.) So we went inside and Pat went out to ask somebody what was going on. Turned out they were doing a drug search. Oh. Is that all?

Patooie! Ten points for Gaston!

The birthday party was good, even though at first it looked like my mother wasn't going to show up like she said she was going to, leaving us in the midst of a large group of complete strangers. Luckily, she did arrive and so did a little girl who is a friend of Saren's. The party was at Peter Piper Pizza (come for the pizza, stay for the fun!) and it was way better, in it's way than Chuck E. Cheese. The main reason for this is that there was a roller coaster there. Granted, it was very small, but by God, a roller coaster is a roller coaster. Any pizza place with a roller coaster in it gets my vote. Saren went on it repeatedly and Harper and I went on it 3 times. Woohoo! There was also a very small merry-go-round and it is less expensive than Chick E. Cheese. It wins!

I bought the girls each a My Little Ponies. I remember when those came out the first time. I was "too old" for them, but I always thought they were so pretty. Now I can re-live my childhood through my girls. Yay! I also got Harper a Swiper the Fox and Saren picked out a new Barbie. She picked out a pretty African-American one. Her name is Christine and Saren had a lot of trouble reading it. She kept saying her name was "Chair."

We also went shopping at Wild Oats. It wasn't too horribly expensive so I think I will continue to do most of our shopping there. And most of what I got was organic so that's good.

Last night Harper did finally go pee-pee in the potty. A little. She has been rather insistent about wearing underwear for the past two days. I bought Pull-ups for when we go out. I think she's pretty close. *crosses fingers*

Oh yeah. I forgot about this until just now. While we were at Target shopping for the birthday present, an old woman came up to us and got my attention by sharply tapping on my back. She told me I had beautiful children and I said, "Thank you," and I thought that would be the end of it. But she continued to talk to us, and she kept touching my kids. Urgh. I hate it when strangers touch my kids. Or maybe I don't. Maybe it's just creepy old ladies that I don't like touching them. Saren, being the friendly child that she is, engaged in conversation with the woman, so it was difficult to extract us from the situation. Then, as the woman was leaving, she asked Saren to shake her hand and Saren didn't want to. She kept her hand out in the manner of adults everywhere who don't respect a child's right to her own body and Saren still didn't extend her own hand because, while she was willing to talk to the lady, she was uncomfortable with the idea of shaking her hand. I was struggling to come up with something to say that wouldn't be rude to the woman and would still make her respect my child's right to keep her own hand to herself. That was my problem. I shouldn't have worried about it. I only came up with something like, "It's okay, she's feeling shy right now," which is just lame. I should have said, "She doesn't feel comfortable shaking strangers' hands" or, to Saren, "It's okay if you don't want to shake hands." She even went around to the other side of the shopping cart and tried to reach over and grab Saren's hand. And I should have said, "Please don't touch my child without her permission" when she put her hand on Harper's cheek. She did the same to me too. I feel like I've failed my kids in this small regard today. At least I'll be better if there is ever a next time. And at least I said to Saren after she was gone that it would be okay for her to say something along the lines of, "I don't want to shake hands right now" if she is ever in a situation like that. I could see her looking at me and I just wasn't quick enough on my feet to help her out. Bah.