Obamaland

Ok, it's no surprise that Evanston is otherwise known as Obamaland.

Don't be fooled by the photo. George and I are voting for Senator Obama.

But what does a parent do when their kid, while trick or treating, walks up to a door, and refuses to knock on that door because it is sporting a McCain/Palin sticker, and thus turns, and leaves the property?

I don't need a parent manual to tell me that this is not good.

I told Zane he needed to be bipartisan and march up to that door. He was rewarded with a Milky Way. Too bad for you, Harper.

Yes, Harper has been learning about both candidates in school and has registered to vote in her classroom on election day. She, and her classmates, have also written letters to whomever will be our next President.

And while we have also discussed the election in the house, we have told Harper that she needs to read the informational brochures on each candidate, (child friendly material), and vote for the candidate of her choice.

"Yeah, I already know I'm voting for Obama because McCain stinks!"

Um, wait a minute.

"Where did you hear that"?

She shared that a few students in her class had mentioned that McCain was no good and stunk. My heart broke. Broke. I have failed. No awards for Mom in this house today.

"Harper, speaking about Senator McCain that way is completely disrespectful", said the mother who dissed Palin verbally early on . . . I've redeemed myself . . . "and I hope you understand that both Obama and McCain love this country and want to do the best job as President. They just disagree on how to do so."

We then discussed the issues in her handouts. As much as one can actually discuss the issues with a 7 year old. I was surprised, however, by her questions, and her conclusions as they pertained to each issue highlighted in the brochure.

"Mom, why are we in a war with Iraq"?

I stumbled through explaining 9-11 (having previously touched upon the events of that day after reading a book from before 2001 which still showed the towers standing, two skyscrapers which Harper mentioned interest in visiting one day) and how after the attacks we believed that Iraq was possibly protecting terrorists, like the ones who hurt and killed many Americans on 9-11, by allowing them to stay in that country, and that Iraq also had really bad weapons, or RBW's, that could threaten us. I then shared that these weapons were never found.

"So why are we still fighting with them?"

"Harper, I do not know."

"Did they find the people who hurt our country when I was a baby?"

"No. But they think the person who planned the attack is in a country called Afghanistan." I told her his name. (Updated on November 2: I really didn't want to explain suicide missions to my daughter and thus, I told her that the people hadn't been found.)

"So, why don't we go there and get him?"

"Well, Harper, it's difficult."

"Well, I think that if we keep sending Americans to Iraq then the war will just keep getting bigger and go on longer. So I disagree with it."

"Ok."

We talked about education. Harper didn't like the word "compete" when it came to schools competing for the best teachers. In her young 7 year old mind, she took this to mean,

"So will all the best teachers only be in a few schools, then? What about all the other schools?"

I realize that all this is watered down and that Harper can't possibly comprehend the entire scope of the issues, but she came to these conclusions on her own - at least she is beginning the process of thinking critically.

She also decided that "all children should be able to go to the doctor".

Now, I know that she can't really make an informed choice at 7 years old, and that she is completely influenced by the fact that Obama signs have become yard ornaments around here, but I am really glad that we are talking about the election. I'm glad that there is material out there for parents to use when discussing the candidates with their children.

I do hope, however, that parents are actually having discussions with their children and are not simply telling their child that one candidate is better than the other, end of story. This does nothing for their ability to think critically. These men are not deities, and don't encompass true "hope" and "truth", so I feel quite comfortable discussing both candidates with Harper. And truth is, she's hearing stuff in school, from other kids. I can't ignore that this is happening. It's like a discussion about sex. Can a child this old really understand it? No. But if she came home repeating something of a sexual nature that she picked up on the playground, then I best be ready and available to discuss it.

Cringe.

I felt compelled to apologize to Harper if I had said anything to make her think that McCain "stunk". She assured me that she had heard it at school.

I wiped my forehead.

Still, after her comment from last week, and then her refusal to trick or treat at the house of a McCain supporter, I really needed to discuss respect. Both my respect for both candidates, and, well, ok, their running mates as well . . . and her respect for the candidates.

She is 7.

What was I doing when I was 7?

Discussing politics?

I don't think so.

Mom?

Offending Security

We caused a bit of a ruckus at the airport today. Not a great place to have a ruckus nowadays, to be sure, but we honestly didn't mean to do so. It wasn't severe, well, not in our eyes. We weren't pulling an Olsteen or anything like that.

No, we just assumed something we probably shouldn't have assumed.

Last week, when we started our little merry adventure back in Chicago, we missed the early boarding announcement for those traveling with small children. As we stood in a really long line to board, I noticed, after some time, that it wasn't moving. Nobody was boarding. I made my way to the front to find that they were boarding those who needed extra time: passengers in wheelchairs, parents with children and carseats to get strapped tight. We quickly left our place in line and boarded with this group.

Today, on the way home from vacation, the gate was crowded. No seats available. No seats offered - and yet there was one seated woman in particular who seemed peeved that Zane was walking around. Fun. I love irony.

As the time of our departure drew near, we noticed that a line had formed for boarding and that a family with two small children was making their way down the ramp to board the plane. Immediately, I recalled last week, and thought, "Oh, we missed the announcement!" and made our way down the ramp.

Yes, in hindsight, I did find it odd that there were no airline personnel at the top of the ramp to take our boarding passes, but I figured they were at the bottom, at the door leading to the whatchamacallit thingamabob that one walks down to reach the plane. Nope. We reached the door only to find TSA agents. Well, they don't take boarding passes. Where was everyone?

They let us through anyway. They let us through anyway.

We made our way through the whatchamacallit thingamabob that leads to the plane only to be met halfway by two attendants walking towards us from the plane while making circular motions with their fingers. Circular motions which meant "turn around".

"Why are you down here?"

"Um, we saw the family boarding, and assumed you had started early boarding."

"We haven't."

One of the flight attendants then muttered, "Oh, crap." and hurried off back upstairs to the gate.

At that point I thought the second attendant would ask us to turn around, or would at the very least ask to see our boarding passes.

Neither happened.

"We haven't started boarding yet."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Should we . . ."

"Go on ahead."

She never once looked at our boarding passes.

We realized at that point that we had made a snafu. And so had they. There were no airline personnel at the top of the ramp to stop us from heading down the ramp. TSA didn't stop us as we made it to the whatchamacallit thingamabob. The flight attendant didn't stop us from boarding.

But, obviously, the "Oh, crap" response from the male attendant made it clear that someone had messed up.

Just as we got settled on the plane she came for us. And she was mad. And in charge.

"Did you board before you were told to board?"

They could have removed us from the flight.

"I'm sorry, we didn't realize you hadn't started early boarding. We just assumed you had when we saw the other family with children boarding."

"This is considered a huge security offense. Next time, do not board until you hear the announcement."

"Yes, Ma'am. Thank you."

And then I shut-up. Just shut-up.

Now, I admit, we made a mistake. We done wrong. We made an assumption about the situation based upon our boarding experience back in Chicago a week earlier, but clearly, clearly, today, someone had left their post. Anyone could have gone down that ramp. We weren't being sneaky. How could we be? We were loud. And clunky. And in plain sight. Two adults holding two carseats, two bags, a restless Zane, and Harper, following behind lugging her own carry-on while complaining that her arm was tired from pulling her bag, but that she couldn't pull it with her other arm because that was her non-dominant arm. We were not hard to miss.

And yet, there was no one to stop us.

Not even the TSA.

Hmmm . . . now that's good work.

And then, of course, mid-flight, I attempted to take my potty training boy to the lavatory at the front of the aircraft. We were in seat 8. It made sense. Um, no. One in coach does not venture past the first class curtain. Even though Zane was squirming, I was sent to the back of the plane.

They were glad to be rid of us.

I almost expected to be met by TSA back in Chicago.

Wonder who got written up because of us?

Notice that the name of the airline has not been mentioned in this post. I've learned my lesson on that one.

Wow'd By Reconciliation: It IS Possible

Simply put, we, as Christians, are CALLED to be different. We are CALLED to be in this world, but not "of" this world. We are CALLED to treat others as we would want to be treated. CALLED.

Sometimes I fail to answer.

Reconciliation IS possible. Jesus did not just speak to it, he lived it. And died for it. His forgiveness is not conditional.

Sometimes I make it conditional.

You've read over the last few weeks how I have struggled. I am not perfect. Today, I was able to have a conversation with my "trans guy" in response to a comment he left on my blog. I didn't simply comment back. I called him. Immediately. During our phone conversation, I thanked him for his apology and shared how Jesus has been working in my life to reveal to me how our auto drama is less about the actual car, and more about the need for humans to work alongside one another towards reconciliation in matters that, for lack of a better word, suck.

Big Picture vs. Little Picture.

Ultimately, it's not about the car. It's about people.

In the future I will make every attempt to wield my blogging power for good.

I've had a good, strong cup of Reconciliation Blend this morning.

Enjoy a cup on me.

The following Comment has been re-posted with permission

Cuppa Jo.

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Upon return of your car we will also be giving you a $200.00 Target gift certificate to show our appreciation for allowing us to serve you. This is not something we do only for someone with a blog page, but for any customer who is not 100% satisfied with our company.

Furthermore, although cooler line hoses only break on rare occasions,and we do visually inspect them, we are currently implementing a program to more closely examine every line and replace any hose that shows even a minute sign of wear to avoid any future problems. It is my belief that the Internet and blogs such as yours can only help to improve relationships between businesses and their customers. I do not fear this technology, I embrace it.

I only wish that we had been aware of your situation sooner, and for that I am truly sorry.If you have any questions or if there is anything more we can do for you at all please do not hesitate to call us at 888-808-1066 and ask for Joe.

Thank you,

Gator Transmissions

The "Trans Guys"

Cold Turkey

Today was not a museum day, but rather a catch up day . . . Harper's hair needed some immediate attention, there were library books to check out and books to return, there were prescriptions to fill.

I tried to make it as fun as possible. Harper's haircut went without a hitch, although she was a bit nervous about venturing out today with the bruise on her nose that she got while attempting to fly like one of the Superfriends last night. Thank God it's not broken, as when she slammed headfirst into the couch, I thought, "OK, when she gets off the floor, don't overreact", as I honestly felt she was going to come up looking like a boxer.

I digress. The hair is great. Zane swept the salon while Harper sat in the chair. She has amazing hair. Zane sweeps very well.

Then, it was off to the library . . . what I've failed to mention is that today, I put Zane in underwear. We've just had it with diapers, so today, I decided to just stick him in underpants.

Cold Turkey.

Of course he had an accident at the library, I was actually expecting one, but at least HE TOLD ME HE WAS HAVING ONE, and then said, "Quick, Mommy!" as we dashed to the bathroom. We didn't make it, but I praised him anyway.

The kids got great books, I got the last copy of Atonement, I paid all my fines (including the hefty one for a Bob the Builder page ripping incident), and then took the kids for Portillo's as they were pleading for hot dogs.

They didn't eat their hot dogs.

I ended up eating my hot dog and their hot dogs. And their fries.

After the Hershey store from yesterday, the bag of chocolate I bought yesterday, Portillo's and the movie popcorn that I'll be having tonight at Horton Hears a Who, I will need to go on some sort of diet.

The Cold Turkey diet.

I think it's called Slim Fast.

OK, so then, we go to the pharmacy to get Harper's prescription filled as she only has one more capsule left for tomorrow. Little did I remember, that this is a controlled substance, and thus, I must get the prescription filled within 7 days of it being written. It has been 9 days. Would Harper now have to come off of the medication cold turkey until we could get our hands on another prescription? The prescription can not be faxed or emailed, and thus, George is driving down to Children's tomorrow morning to get another one, as we couldn't trust Chicago mail to have it here by Friday. On top of this, our pharmacy doesn't carry this particular medication, so I spent the afternoon calling around to find another one that does.

I wasn't, um, pleasant at the pharmacy.

I called to apologize. Admitted to them that I was terribly rude. It wasn't their fault that I'd forgotten that a controlled substance off which one can make a mint on the street had to be filled within a certain timeframe. They were just following the law as enforced by the DEA. I, however, freaked out on them.

So an apology was completely necessary.

I'm such a turkey.