As I suspected, my very minor political article below scared-off readers/commenters…what can I say, politics can be polarizing and most folks don’t like getting into those types of conversations.  Maybe it’s because I live in DC and am constantly surrounded by politics and a lot of super-left liberals that are nearly anti-American and hear Europeans, Mid-Easterners, and Pro-Illegal groups cursing us and our country, but I get really tired of hearing what an awful country we are.  Look at how other countries treat their own people, how much poorer their poor are compared to ours, how little other countries help out other members of the global community, how many countries let you be whomever or whatever you want to be, and then come back and tell me how awful we are.  We are generous to a fault.  Our country is like a Mother…just keeps helping and keeps loving and keeps being there for everyone else, even when met with nasty nay-sayers.  We have some of the biggest hearts and deepest pockets.  To paraphrase Dinesh D’Souza, we’re one of the few countries that after we are at war with a country, actually takes the time and money to help rebuild that same country.  Ask Germany (WWII); ask Iraq and Afghanistan (if you can get past the biased media that selectively overlooks the efforts of our troops to rebuild infrastructure and schools).  Look at all the ways we help other countries with their calamities…sending food and aid to those who’ve suffered earthquakes, tidal waves, landslides, droughts, civil strife, etc.  How many countries have come to our aid when we’ve been struck with similar catastrophes?  And you know what?  We’re still “friends” with all those other countries and we don’t ask for anything in return.

And honestly, how bad can we really be when we have 1.1 million legal immigrants each year from all over the world, an estimated 1million illegal immigrants sneaking in, and millions more that are trying to get here (through legal means or otherwise)?  Think about it.  Then give yourselves great big American hugs. 

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By the way, tomorrow Cooper and I are flying out to Chicago to see my family.  I haven’t been in Chicago since last March and haven’t seen any of my family since Cooper’s baptism in September.  Take a peek at see how little he was!  They are all going to be really surprised to see what a huge chunka-munka baby he is now.  Don’t know how much internet time I will have since I won’t have enough hands to carry all my stuff and Cooper and a computer…so you may not hear much from me in terms of reading your posts or creating any more of mine until I return next week.

Justin is sick (read:  being a big whiny baby), and has left me with two hungry (read: grouchy) young boys.  After feeding Cooper a fantastic Beechnut Good Evening Creamy Chicken Noodle Dinner, I have gone above and beyond the normal demands of motherhood to procure a highly palatable and nutritious meal for Gavin and I:

I carefully prepared it to ensure it was cooked properly,

I then tastefully and artfully arranged our meal on lovely plates.

Yeah, yeah, I know.  I totally made up for it by putting my kids in matching Carter’s Crocodile jammies.  See how cute?  Best part is that they retail for $24, saw them marked down at regular stores for $14.something, but found them (and a crapload more of Carter’s 3-pc jammies and other Carter’s stuff) at Costco for $8.something!!!!

Now, feel free to hand over fantastic mothering awards…

Just a little.  Don’t want to alienate too many folks, so I generally keep most of my polical views to myself.  Or at least not to the written word on my blog because, well, because that’s just how I want to do it.  It’s my party and all.

So anyways, I was just reading this about the Bhutanese refugees.  Seems the country of Bhutan effectively “cleansed” its country of ethnic Nepalis in the early ’90s by forcing those folks into exhile.  Now, of the over 100,000 estimated refugees living in Nepal, the United States, the great and generous country that it is, has offered to take in 60,000 of these refugees.  Meanwhile, about 10,000 refugees are each going to Australia, Canada, Norway, Netherlands, New Zealand, and Denmark.   So for all of you anti-American idiots out there, you can all SHOVE IT because look how many people we are offering to take in with open arms!  Considering how large Canada is, look how comparatively few they’re offering to resettle.  Look at all the other neighboring countries in Southeast Asia or Europe or the Mid-East that haven’t offered homes for these people that were persecuted against by their own government.   Many of these people had been born and raised in Bhutan; their families there for several generations, yet their own government put strict sanctions on them about their culture and kicked them out.

To all of you Bhutanese refugees, I hope that you find our country welcoming, with plenty of food on the table, and opportunities for you and your children.

yes.  I am officially asking for help…from THIS BOTTLE! 

OMG!  It’s actually pretty good wine, and the name of it makes me feel slightly empowered and less guilty for being grouchy.  And it makes me laugh.  And I think I’m going to bed really really early tonight.  I cannot even comment on the source of my ailment without doing a password-protected post, and that is going to to have to wait until I’m awake enough to figure it out.  But I will give you hints:  illness, family, sleep deprivation, livlihood, and major muscle fatigue.  Not necessarily in that order.

p.s.  I had a very nice Easter, so be sure to look at the preshusss photos over at Justin’s site.  Just click on the thumbnails to see bigger pics (no need to pull out the reading glasses to view).

Aw…Thanks for the nice compliments about my hair…you gals are all so sweet! And yes, Justin does have his redeeming moments…yesterday morning just happened to be one of them and I was feeling warm and fuzzy enough from the coffee to mention it. Now if he could’ve reminded me (1) before dinner, (2) after dinner, (3) before I ran out to the store at 8:30pm last night, (4) after I arrived home at 9:45pm last night, (5) before or after I made the baby’s bottles, or (6) anytime before 10:30pm that he still needed some white socks, I would totally let him off the hook. But um, getting a reminder at 10:30pm when I’m going to bed for the first time in weeks before 11:30pm was not cool. Especially since he does have the knowledge and physical capacity to start his own load of white socks and t-shirt and could’ve had them nearly done by the time I arrived home from the store. But instead, I got the “um, I still need white socks.” I look at him blankly, thinking, “is he FOR REAL? He’s kidding, right? I’m gonna open the laundry room and see that he did his own socks and is just teasing me.” Nope. So I start a small load of socks and t-shirts for him, then sit up reading until the washer finishes somewhere around 11:15pm, throw the clothes in the dryer, and go to bed at 11:22pm. And I better not hear one joke about that I actually did get to bed before 11:30pm because those 8 minutes do not mean crap in my book.

About an hour later, I hear Cooper up whining and talking to himself. I pull the covers over my head and will him back to sleep. No dice. He keeps talking and moaning and whining. Finally around 1:30am, after he’s had a good hour of entertaining me, he gets annoyed and decides he’s hungry. I get up, feed him, rock him for a while (he seemed really restless and I was not willing to bring him back to my bed), and got back to bed around 2:20am. I was not a happy camper this morning. Which is why I’m still whining instead of giving you some snarky letters to my fellow DC-area drivers. Okay. I’ll shut up now and not get into the conspiracy theory I have about Cooper changing alliances and now partnering with Justin in his attempt to keep me ridiculously sleep deprived. Just please excuse me if you hear any yawning or overt B-n-M (bitching-n’-moaning…not to be confused with BM, which is a nice way of say “poop”).

Dear Cancer Cultivator in the Silver Prius:

We have a lot of you little “green” cars around here. And I love it. I love that all of you have gone out and bought your hybrids for the sake of the Earth and your gas budgets. Virginia loves it so much that they give you cool “Clean Fuel” license plates and allow you the privilege of driving in the HOV lane by yourself! What I don’t love is that while I’m behind you in my little car, you are chain-smokin’ like a man on death row! I actually saw you light your new cigarette with the old one! (please, I’m crabby, no remarks about how close I was driving at 60+mph) The traffic wasn’t even all that bad…I’d hate to see what you do when there’s an accident and they close down 3 lanes. I am of the belief that all the smoke you had billowing out of your car windows completely negated your hybrid vehicle and that you should be banished to the regular travel lanes where the 30mph speed more warrants your anxiety-ridden chain-smoking.

Sincerely,

A Concerned (about my lungs) Driver

Dear Clueless Lady in the Red Jimmy:

Please, please, please, for the love of all that is sacred and holy (and whole), get your brake-lights fixed. You have to be aware from all the chronic brake-screeching behind you that you lack any sort of warning lights letting drivers behind you know that you are slowing down. I’m sure the gentleman in the Nissan between us would agree since he very nearly climbed into your back-seat. At first, I thought that maybe this was a new issue and you might possibly be on your way to get your brake lights repaired this very instance until I noticed that besides having expired license plates, your state inspection tag appears to be a bit over-due as well, meaning that more than likely you been having a great ol’ time watching in your rear-view mirror as the drivers behind you bug their eyes out in panic at your quick stops, like at that light where it just turned yellow as you approached the intersection. Any TRUE Virginia driver will tell you that you can run 6 or 7 cars through the intersection AFTER it’s turned red. Stopping is just a suggestion, not a requirement. And in your case, you (and the rest of us driving behind you) would be better off if you did run a few stale yellow (or even red) lights once in a while.

Kindest Regards,

A Concerned (about my front bumper) Driver

Dear Very Important Parent at my Sons’ Daycare:

I appreciate that you are in a hurry to get to your job and that the rest of us are simply schmucks. I understand that your need to park improperly supercedes any of the rest of us who need to park to drop off our children, because you are a VIP. I totally get it that I was out of line by getting out of my vehicle and trying to retrieve my baby from his carseat in the backseat while you were in the building and not-yet-in-your-car. So in light of your VIPness, I hope you appreciate the scratch down the side of your car from when you opted to walk out of the building, smile at me, hop in your car, start it up, and put it in reverse while I was still retrieving my child from my car. That scratch was a special gift from my car door to you. I guess I should also thank you for allowing me to quickly slam my back door and hop around behind my car before you popped off your passenger-side mirror and/or slammed my own door on my baby and me. That was incredibly decent of you and I hope you saw the gracious words of thanks coming from my lips.

Warmest Thoughts,

A Glad (to be alive? to have my car paid-off? to not have my baby caught in the car door like a white t-shirt? ) Driver

Hope everyone has a blessed Good Friday and a Lovely Easter!