I don’t know if they give out Darwin Awards for parenting, but if so I almost nominated myself today.

As I was driving to the park with no change of clothing, towel or extra diaper I had the fantastic idea of going to Redondo (Federal Way’s little spot on Puget Sound) instead.  We walked down on to the beach and I turned to speak with another mom whose daughter was looking for crabs under the rocks about 20 feet from the water’s edge.  Not more than 25 seconds later I noticed that her eyes were getting wider and wider, I followed her gaze and observed that my son was up to his thighs in Puget Sound seaweedy nastiness.  As I was running to get him (but well before I was really anywhere near him), he tripped and went completely underwater.  He flailed about and swallowed a bunch of saltwater and who knows what else before I could pull him up.

A friend once told me that one’s mettle as a parent is only seen during the inevitable near death experience of their child.  I don’t like that.

Justin The Optimist tells me I am too cynical. He’s probably right. I see the glass as half empty. I assume the worst when awaiting a possible outcome. I love those Worst Case Scenario books because they just seem like such a damn good idea.

The one good thing about being a cynic is that sometimes, occasionally, I am surprised. Pleasantly. Pleasingly. Surprised. And I will admit when I am wrong. I was wrong about our vacation. We had quite enough room to keep quiet when we wanted to. Andrew slept like, well, like a baby. We had time together as a family (extended) and a family (nuclear) and both were exceptionally good. The sun shone. The waves crashed. It was brilliant. (Brilliant!)

Here are the pictures.

While standing on the beach watching perhaps the most glorious sunset I have ever seen, a little boy tugs on his mother’s sleeve and says, “I think the sun just drowned.”

Awesome.

More to come when I actually get home.

We are getting ready to leave for our first family vacation since Andrew was born.  We are going to the Oregon Coast to spend the week at a house that Justin’s parents rented with Justin’s two younger sisters, one brother-in-law, three nieces, 93 year old great-grandma, a German Shepard, and a partridge in a pear tree.  Okay so I exaggerate a little bit, but when I first started dating Justin there were three birds living in his house. I hate birds, but I digress.  Even after 6 years of spending time with this group, I still get intimidated and overwhelmed by the sheer numbers, and noise.

My family is small.  I was an only child.  I have five first cousins and six second cousins.  My cousins were like my siblings growing up, but they always went back to their own homes and I to mine.  Back to quiet and order and the assurance that things would go pretty much the way I expected them to.  Marrying in to a, comparatively, larger family (Justin’s mom is one of eleven children!) has been an adjustment for me.  I dread holidays, where crowds of people swoop in and muddle up my routine. 

And there is the heart of it, I love my routine.  Sometimes, like when I am obsessing over the what-ifs surrounding a vacation, or when I catch myself thinking how much easier my life would be if I didn’t have a church, or playgroup, or CR, or community group, or friends, I realize that I love my routine more than I love the people that God has placed in my life for a reason.  Now that I think about it, He has probably placed them in my life for THIS reason - they disrupt my routine.  I want to see these disruptions as opportunities to evolve, but most of the time I only see them as disruptions.  I hope that this vacation will turn in to an opportunity and that I will appreciate it as such. 

I’ll let you know in a week.

Yep, there are major benefits to being married to a nerd - such as the email that showed up the other day:

Engineering Quiz: An excavator weighing 8 tons is on top of a flatbed trailer and heading east on Interstate 70 near Hays, Kansas.  The extended shovel arm is made of hardened refined steel and the approaching overpass is made of commercial-grade concrete, reinforced with 1 1/2 inch steel rebar spaced at 6-inch intervals in a crisscross pattern layered at 1 foot vertical spacing.

Problem to Solve: When the shovel arm hits the overpass, how fast is the vehicle traveling to slice the bridge in half?  (Assume no effect for headwind and no braking by the driver…)

Extra Credit: Solve for the time and distance required for the entire rig to come to a complete stop after hitting the overpass at the speed calculated above.

Answer: Who cares, the trucking company just bought themselves a bridge.

I have a friend whose little girl is very sick.  She is due to be born any time now and we are all very uncertain as to what is going to happen.  On Sunday night we met with some members of our church to pray for them and support them as a community.  It was the first time in a very long time that I have felt the Holy Spirit working.  I seem to always have intellectual assent to the person and the presence of God, but I rarely feel Him or hear Him speaking.  I know that this is my own doing.  I fill the space around me with noise and distraction all day.  I refuse to take my thoughts captive and exercise discipline, instead choosing to be a victim of my emotions and believing the lie that my life is out of control.  I throw up my hands at the first sign of hardship and give myself over to depression, fear and the tendency to withdraw. 

But that night, as I saw community being lived out in front of me, I remembered, and believed, that I am a part of something bigger then myself, bigger than my family or my four walls.  That even when I am cowering and silent, God is still moving and working, and I have a choice whether or not I will actively join Him or passively observe. 

I do not know what God’s answer will be concerning little Zoe.  I am trying to look at the situation and say with an honest heart, “Thy will be done.”  But I am afraid.  I don’t want people that I love to be in that much pain.  I have a hard time understanding the whys and wherefores that follow a sick child.  But there is a little part of my heart that believes (without logic and against my intellect) that God does have this situation under His control and that His will is enough. 

I just purchased the Dixie Chicks new album. I have been a Chicks fan since Wide Open Spaces, they are writing more and more of their own music (a mainstream country music rarity) and flat out kick ass on their instruments.  I liked each of their subsequent albums more than the one before, this was no exception.

Amid all the controversy and publicity I didn’t know what to expect.  I wanted them to produce a quality album and still thumb their noses at the government and the country music establishment. The reviews that said they were moving away from their country roots posed a bit of a dilemma for me because I actually like country music, at least I used to. I liked music that I could sing along to, music that celebrated the simple things in life, music that didn’t make me feel depressed or angry.  That is what country music used to be for me.  But sometime between 9/11 and Bush’s 2004 re-election, someone in Nashville decided to lay down some new ground rules for country music.  Apparently, the recipe for a successful country song now includes a minimum of three references to the might of the American military, two vows for revenge and five reasons why we know God wants the world to be American and blesses all the works of the Republican party and the Bush administration.  I have a hard time singing along with such hawk-like rhetoric and the thing that I liked about country music - the part where it didn’t make me feel angry or depressed - that doesn’t seem to apply anymore. 

I know, I know.  Keep your boots on, real country fans.  I am making generalizations.  I know that I am talking about mainstream country and that there is a whole lot of great music in the alternative country, bluegrass and independent scenes. There are even some mainstream country songs that don’t fall in to that mode.  They are sung by such artists as Tim McGraw, an out of the closet Nashville Democrat, Kenny Chesney, who doesn’t want the whole world to be American because we would ruin his tropical beaches, and some others who are often mistaken for adult contemporary music.  But most mainstream country music these days abides by the above rules.  So I don’t tell too many people that I like country because I don’t want to be associated with the crazies that currently represent it.

The biggest issue I have with country music world’s reaction to Natalie Maines’ comments two years ago is that it is indicative of a bigger problem throughout the political right.  Dissention cannot be accepted, listened to, or even politely ignored. It must be squelched, silenced at all costs for the sake of retaining the appearance of unity.  This administration, and those who blindly support it, appear to fear queries and disagreements so much that they lash out with boycotts and retaliatory mud-slinging at the slightest provocation. 

Why can’t the right-wing be secure enough in its own decisions and policies to shrug their shoulders at the comments of a celebrity?  Why can’t they (the constituents and the politicians) give a reasoned answer to the criticisms directed their way?  Why does everything have to turn in to a War On _____?

I have had it up to here with George W Bush.  I really have.  I am tired of the lies and broken promises, tired of the sound-bites and over-used platitudes.  I don’t know who I am going to vote for in 2008, I have a good case for Hilary.  I will cautiously jump on the Obama bandwagon, although I do think he is too young (politically).  I would even give Gore another chance and listen to what John McCain (or any other Republican that gets nominated) has to say. 

I want an administration, not a monarchy.  I want to feel like my voice is at least being heard, even if it is voted down.  I want to feel like it is safe for a celebrity to criticize the government without receiving death threats.  We are not a one-party system for a reason.  There is strength and truth to be found in debate and discussion.  People who have different opinions and experiences often have something valuable to add to a conversation.  I want the Dixie Chicks album to stay at #1 not because of the controversy, but because people like the music and are listening to the lyrics and using them to spark creative conversation.  We should listen to music (and movies and authors and sports figures and anyone else with a voice) not so that we can emulate their beliefs but so that we can form our own.  We should give as much credence to the opinion of a celebrity as we do the stranger on a bus, or the person holding a sign on the side of the road, all of these people are strangers who have done nothing to deserve our trust.  We should think and learn and seek truth through trustworthy sources, without being afraid of the consequences.

So check out the album, it’s really good.  And, in case you were wondering if they managed to stick it to the establishment, here are the lyrics to their first single from the album:

Forgive, sounds good.
Forget, I’m not sure I could.
They say time heals everything,
But I’m still waiting

I’m through, with doubt,
There’s nothing left for me to figure out,
I’ve paid a price, and I’ll keep paying

I’m not ready to make nice,
I’m not ready to back down,
I’m still mad as hell
And I don’t have time
To go round and round and round
It’s too late to make it right
I probably wouldn’t if I could
Cause I’m mad as hell
Can’t bring myself to do what it is
You think I should

I know you said
Why can’t you just get over it,
It turned my whole world around
and I kind of like it

I made by bed, and I sleep like a baby,
With no regrets and I don’t mind saying,
It’s a sad sad story
That a mother will teach her daughter
that she ought to hate a perfect stranger.
And how in the world
Can the words that I said
Send somebody so over the edge
That they’d write me a letter
Saying that I better shut up and sing
Or my life will be over

I’m not ready to make nice,
I’m not ready to back down,
I’m still mad as hell
And I don’t have time
To go round and round and round
It’s too late to make it right
I probably wouldn’t if I could
Cause I’m mad as hell
Can’t bring myself to do what it is
You think I should

Forgive, sounds good.
Forget, I’m not sure I could.
They say time heals everything,
But I’m still waiting

Andrew: Scream! Whine! Bitch! Moan!

Maddy: It’s okay Andrew, I will sing you a song.

Andrew*: I hate singing.  I am bitter and have been mistreated by the whole world.

Maddy: Mommy, I’m scared of Andrew.

*loose translation of more screams

The Blogfathers had a post today about putting play areas (akin to the ones found at McDonalds) in at Starbucks.  It seems like a brilliant plan.  Not in every Starbucks, some things must remain sacred, but in a few of them.  I have driven in to downtown Tacoma to have coffee with a friend at a Tully’s that has small toys for kids just because of the toys.  I knew that if I went there Andrew could play and I could talk for at least 30 minutes before the shrieking and mom-climbing began. 

Plus, if Starbucks started adding locations with play areas they could totally justify opening at least 3 new locations in every major city, thus strengthening their quest for world domination.  Seriously, Federal Way totally needs 11 Starbucks within the city limits.  Eight just isn’t enough.