1. So the other day Ava says “I hope Jill Stein doesn’t win the presidency, because I want to be the first woman president.” Before asking her exactly what she plans on doing as President, I had to address my more pressing question, which was how the hell my 10-year-old knows about the Green Party candidate. (Cause God knows WE aren’t discussing that stuff around the dinner table…I’m not that contentious of a mother.)
2. So I ask her “How do you know about Jill Stein?” She looks at me like I have seven heads, responding “Mama, she’s the Green Party candidate.” “Yes, Ava. I know that. But how do YOU know that? You’re ten.” And this kid responds “Oh, I read your voter’s pamphlet. By the way, what are you voting on Prop 32?”
3. Um, it’s a bleak day in paradise when you realize your kid is a more educated voter than you are.
4. Speaking of the elections, they’re a pretty big deal, for me, personally. Far-reaching, immediate effects. Since half the people I know are evidently moving to Canada if Romney gets elected, and the other half are leaving the country if Obama stays in office, no matter what happens I’m losing half my acquaintances. PRETTY BIG SHIT I guess.
5. Also, according to my Facebook feed, we’re also screwed in other big ways. If Obama stays in office, we are all going to end up paying 99% percent of our incomes to support new Socialist systems, nobody will ever be able to buy a house again, and for sure, in the next four years, there will be nothing left of America. On the other hand, if Romney wins, all women will suddenly find themselves banished to the home, gay people will be deported to a remote island off the coast of Fiji, and the 1% will take over the nation while the rest of us wither and die, slowly, in refrigerator boxes.
6. I’m sorry to joke, but I have to, because I’m sick of the election hysteria. Just vote for Roseanne Barr and move on. (I’M KIDDING PEOPLE!)
7. On a serious note, many of you asked what happened to my dear friends’ little dog, Rusty Bear. I apologize for not writing it last week, I should have. I guess I didn’t want to let the sad resurface, and I forgot now thoughtful and compassionate my readers are. You remembered. And you asked. Last Monday morning, Rusty Bear was found passed-away alongside the freeway about a mile away from my house. His dad said he was “going home.” And I guess in a way, he has. RIP little fella. Say a quick prayer, lend some positive energy to Cara Lyn and Roy, from wherever you are, my friends who lost their friend and beloved companion.
8. Now I feel weird writing anything else. It was such a sudden tragedy. Hold on to what you have. Love it now.
9. Speaking of loving things now, we did Halloween. I love it now. I didn’t really love it then. Ava was a jellyfish. Rocket was a Lego mini-figure. Georgie was a ladybug. They were adorable. It rained on us while we attempted trick-or-treating. I was in a terrible mood. I was stressed-out about my own shit and wrapped up in myself, selfishly. I kept trying to get out of it, but I just couldn’t. I hate it when that happens during important events. At one point it occurred to me I was being nicer to the people who answered the doors (complete strangers) than I was to my own family. More on that winning behavior later.
10. Yesterday my son woke up a little before me. We cuddled as always, until he popped up and announced “I’m going to make my own breakfast!” He darted out of the room. I followed about 5 minutes later and found him in the kitchen, beaming, with a cup of coffee in his hand. “I made you coffee,” he said, “I just have to put the milk in!” He was so proud. He couldn’t stop smiling. He looked so confident, bolting around the kitchen in his boxer shorts and insane hair.

There are moments when you look at your children and you just can’t believe how good and real and solid they’ve become.

In spite of it all. Or perhaps, because of it all.

Lately I’ve been struck by how sensitive and thoughtful the boy is becoming, how he’s becoming just like his dad…everybody’s talking about shit they’re grateful for. I’m grateful for that.

Anyway, have a good week.

And don’t forget to fucking vote.

YOU determine which form of apocalypse our country faces!

here’s to the sensitive boys.

would it ruin the moment if I told you he thinks farts are funny?