Google is your friend

Google might be one of the most amazing inventions in the world.  I love it so.  I love that pretty much any knowledge I wish to seek out is just a well-worded question away.  And I love how Google even seems to know what the hell I'm talking about when I give in to my frustration and tap out "WHAT IS THAT AMAZING SONG ON SHREK THE THIRD?!"

Google just nods the massive cyber head and holds all its wisdom and points me to a message board where countless other mothers who have been forced to watch the Shrek movies thirteen trillion times have CAP-LOCKED that same question and someone else has answered them in a snarky and slightly condescending tone: (I'm paraphrasing)

"Obviously you live under a sound-proof rock, or you would have known that that song is 9 Crimes by Damien Rice and Lisa Hannigan....although I will stoop to share your frustration that whatever dumbass was in charge of putting together the soundtrack left out one of the best and most important songs in the movie."

 *sigh*

Thank you Google.  And you, condescending musical guru.  That song has been haunting me for about 5 years now. 

SIDENOTE:  That might be one of the weirdest music videos I've ever seen.  Seriously.  WTF?  You'd think he'd take better care of his new floating head. 

I just saw Bruce Willis' ass....

Not that that has anything to do with this post....but I needed a title and that one definitely works. 

Sorry, it's hot, my brain has clicked into a zombie-like survival mode until my body can acclimate itself to the heat.  So I will entertain you with this....it's an oldie, but a goodie by two of my favorites: Garfunkel and Oates.

Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides

For the last two weeks, my children have been obsessing over three different countdowns:

The countdown for the end of school.....

The countdown to Kung Fu Panda 2.......

And the countdown for Pirates of the Caribbean 4......

Alright, alright...I was counting down to this one too.

All of our their obsessing has finally come to fruition.  Yesterday, we snuck out of a school picnic early so we could hit the matinee showing of Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides.  And it was worth the wait.  It did not have Will and Elizabeth....but it had mermaids, zombies, and best of all:  Blackbeard.

He's a bad, bad man.  :)

(I'm pretty sure I've mentioned my insane love for Ian McShane's voice here before......if you missed it, check out this post:  Shhhh....I'm listening the sound of Ian McShane's voice rumbling in my head)

This director even got Dame Judi Dench to stage a cameo!  She's another one of those people with a truly amazing voice.  I'm very in awe of her. 

A lot of people have mentioned that they are disappointed that Will and Elizabeth are not in this installment, but to be honest, neither me nor my hubby missed them.  Their story was concluded in the third movie, and there was enough going on in this movie that their absence wasn't even noted.

The chemistry between Johnny Depp and Penelope Cruz was very good.  I liked her role as Angelica...Blackbeard's long-lost daughter who is desperately trying to thwart fate and keep him alive and with her.  (He's completely behind this plan, btw).  She has a history with Jack and their back-and-forth is pretty humorous. 

This movie has much more of the feel and span of The Curse of the Black Pearl, rather than the epic feel of At World's End.  But it's good, and worth the watch.  And, as with all the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, stay for the clip at the end.  It's not especially important, but it's good for a chuckle. 

You were......wonderful. Yeah, wonderful.

Yesterday my family and I packed up and headed to our two oldest sons' hot, stinky elementary school gym to watch our oldest son play in his first concert.  (He plays the cello....for now.)

The proud mother in me wants go on and on about how wonderful it was, but the proud mother in me would be lying. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm super proud of my son.  He's one of only two cellists in the band.  He's only played for half the school year, and he can read his sheet music and pick out songs by ear.  Unfortunately, because there are only two cellists in the band...most of the music the teacher chose didn't even have parts for them.  He got to play two short songs, and then had to sit back and let all the other musicians play all the big fun songs.  Third graders were only allowed to choose between the violin and the cello.....knowing my sanity couldn't handle the sound of an 8 year old learning the violin, I steered him toward the cello.  Next year, he plans to switch to the saxophone, and he wants a guitar for his birthday. 

All that being said......I was FAR from the only parent in that gym wincing in pain when the band started playing.  LOL.  I am always highly amused by the plastered on half-smile and the glazed, zombie eyed look of parents who are being held hostage in torturous situations by their love and pride for their children. 

At the end of the day, I'm glad my son has the opportunity to play and learn about music.  He loves it and it makes him more confident and better-rounded.  So sitting through horrible elementary school band concerts with a smile plastered on my face while I secretly play Spades on my phone is a small price to pay. 

What, what?! It's only Wednesday?!?!

Is it just me, or is this week dragging it's ass? 

I haven't posted in a while.  I've had a lot of visitors, a lot of family drama mixed in with several exemplary acts of stupidity that make me question my genetic makeup.  Add on to that a sick kid, and I have been all too willing to lose myself in a book. 

My husband has enabled my addiction distraction by giving me one of these for Mother's Day.  YAY!

 Excessive book reading aside, I'm in a funk.  I feel almost like I'm withdrawing from society.  Right now, I could be perfectly happy spending a few weeks on a deserted island or out in the woods by myself.  I haven't picked up my computer in days...and even then it's only to check for something specific.  Yesterday was the first time in a couple weeks that I actually looked at the news and browsed my regular sites.  

I'm soooo looking forward to summer.  Not the heat....I'm definitely not looking forward to it getting hotter than it already is.  But I'm ready to shed this school time routine for a little bit.  I hope that will pull me out of my "blah-ness".  I had made several "first summer in Maryland" plans that got squashed when Hubby was shifted to his new job instead of the one he was supposed to get.  But with a little planning, they might be doable next year and there is still several things me and the kiddos can get into around here. 

Plus, I have a nine year old's birthday party to plan.  

Invisible Mother

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response,  the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?'

Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible.. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more! Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this??

Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer,  'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.'

Some days I'm a crystal ball; 'Where's my other sock?, Where's my phone?, What's for dinner?'

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history, music and literature -but now, they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone!?

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. She had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when she turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe.

I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: 'With admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'

In the days ahead I would read - no, devoured - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: 1) No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. 2) These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. 3) They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. 4) The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A story of legend in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof, No one will ever see it And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does.

No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, no Cub Scout meeting, no last minute errand is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.

I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for 3 hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, he'd say, 'You're gonna love it there...'

Happy Mother's Day!

Heartsick

One of my friend's from back home is experiencing something that absolutely no parent should ever have to experience.....the loss of her two-year old daughter.

I never met her little girl.  I've seen her pictures.  She was absolutely beautiful.  She looked a lot like her mother, and if she had even a quarter of her mother's personality, spunk, and optimism, then this world has lost something precious and rare and we are all worse off for it.  

I can't begin to imagine what my friend going through.  I just can't.  I look at my precious babies and the thought of life without one of them instantly makes me physically ill.  My friend is living that reality now, and I wish there was something that I, or anyone, could do to alleviate the devastation she must feel.  I hope that the outpouring of love and support that is coming from everyone who knows them will provide at least a little comfort to the family in the time to come. 

Tina Fey's "Mother's Prayer for her Children"

“First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen.Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, that she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Amen.” 

-Tina Fey

Via:  Bossypants
(Which I desperately want to read)

India's disturbing "girl" problem

This morning, my BFF sent me this link:  Despite rapid growth, India lets its girls die.

She knows that nothing wakes me up like a little righteous indignation with my morning coffee.

I'm not sure when the knowledge of just how little the vast majority of the world thinks of women will stop shocking and infuriating me.  I mean, we're only half of the population......the gender responsible for carrying, nurturing, and delivering the entire population.....we're only your mothers, sisters, daughters. 

By all means, India (and I'm sure several other countries not named in this article), let's starve girls to death after the government tells you you can't abort them.  Preserve your archaic, illogical, and cruel culture at any cost.  Coming together to eliminate the unjust dowry system and other illogical societal norms so that your daughters can live and your sons can benefit from everything women have to offer is just a nonsensical idea posited by evil, liberal feminazis bent on destroying your way of life. 

/snark

And is outlawing informing the expectant parents of the sex of their unborn child really the way to go here??  If these people are willing to starve their daughter to death in lieu of getting the abortion they'd prefer, dear god, let them get the fucking abortion!!!  Saving that poor child from the pain and suffering of starvation is much more humane.

Indian government, while your busy outlawing stuff.....how about outlawing the dowry's?  And actually enforcing the laws.  That would go much further than trying to force your people to have daughters in a system that punishes them for the bad luck of having a faster swimming x chromosome.  I would think that it would be worth the cost of a special task force specifically to shut down these practices so that you don't end up like China.  (See: Chinese Bias for Baby Boys Creates a Gap of 32 Million)

One last thing India, when you kill enough of your girls, your beloved culture is going to come to a screeching halt.  If you don't produce enough girls to marry into your system, you won't be able to sustain it.  The majority of other cultures are not going to pay your sons to marry their daughters. 

BREAKING: Osama Bin Laden's Death Causes Massive Stupidity Outbreak on Facebook

First off, I'm just going to take a moment here to appreciate the justice served by Osama Bin Laden's death. 

........

Now I'm going to take another moment to breathe deeply and relax so that I don't do something rash - like mass delete 3/4 of my Facebook friends list - because apparently even more of my friends and family are racist, completely ignorant of our political process, unreasonable, or some combination of those three things, than I originally realized. 

But wow....Osama's death really brought the crazy. 

I'm quite used to a few of these peoples' inane ramblings.....generally about shit they know absolutely nothing about....but the sheer number of folks posting about Obama being sad that Osama died, hoping that he was shot next, having a fit because this is going to go down in history as an achievement for his presidency.  Wow. 

I have to say though, I find it maddeningly ironic that the same people having a fit about Obama getting credit for Osama's death are the very same people that insist on Obama taking the blame for the House of Representatives being entitled jackasses about the national budget. 

*sigh*  I'm going to go spend some time on my favorite political board.  Where even if we don't agree politically, at least the conservatives there actually understand political process and form coherent arguments.