I've not been paying much attention to this blog lately. It's not that I don't love my friends here, but I'm trying to moderate Wednesday Whining as often as possible, and working crafting time into that as well. I have so many nice craft projects, both those that I've created, and those I've copied from others that I'm thinking of maybe making another blog, for craft purposes only. What do you think? If I put one up, would you visit? Or should I just post the pics here?
Juggling Freak and Offspring know I have this almost unhealthy obsession with crafting, and for the most part, they tolerate it pretty well. Usually at the holidays, and my birthday, they cross the line from "toleration" into "enabling" by buying me all kinds of craft items. (I would also hazard a guess that they're not all too torn up about my crafting proclivities when they need a quick greeting card for whatever reason....)
At any rate, I got up what one would euphemistically call "early" this morning because I have a crafting session that I have to go to this afternoon. JF said that he knew I wouldn't get up early for THEM, but I would for crafting. They ribbed me quite a bit about abandoning the family in order to go play.
I'm a horrible mother. And quite unrepentant about it, really. :)
Today is Blog For Choice Day. I chose, last year, to blog my personal story about why I am pro-choice. This year, I want to focus on the governmental role in this debate.
Who, exactly, is our government to impose their morality on us? By and large, this government, and those of most of the Western world, are run by affluent white guys. Men can never understand the fear of pregnancy, and unwanted pregnancy at that, so why should they legislate what they do not understand? How can they codify something so basic and personal? This isn't making the hippies of the sixties cut their hair before they can enter Disneyland -- this is the forced bearing of, and care for another human being for at least 18 years! And why are so many fundamentalists okay with this? You would never see Congress debating forced sterilization laws -- why should it be the woman's reproductive rights that are curtailed? Amazing as it may seem in what is supposed to be an enlightened age, there are still men who feel that the decision needs to be taken away from women because they too often tempt men -- the whole "Eve got us cast out of the Garden of Eden, so it is woman's lot to bear the shame, and the children" argument. As Cro-Magnon as it is, there are still men in power who want to take the whole decision away from women because, poor things, they get all hysterical when the difficult topics are raised. Must be their time of the month.
Hasn't the United States power structure over the last few decades proven to the general public that they are not immune to making mistakes? That they will even lie to us? That they, like everyone else, have biases and prejudices that lead them to make bad decisions, even sometimes hasty decisions?
My dissatisfaction with choice being a political platform is that "They" make having an opinion a bad thing. Either you believe just what they believe, or you are wrong, and often even *worse* than wrong -- immoral, indecent, and damned to hell. And surely, since you can't think rationally, we have to take the decision-making process out of your hands!
What I believe in may not necessarily be what YOU believe in, but does that give you the right to stop me? Does that give you the right to take away my ability to think and decide for myself? The knee-jerk response of the politicos is to say that they abhor the idea of abortion because it concerns (and cuts short) human life -- well, yeah. It does. But, what you often gloss over is the woman it also affects. I know plenty of people who are not what I'd call "mother material." They choose to remain childless because they realize this about themselves. Rather than doing a bad job, and screwing up the life of a child, they've actually been fairly responsible enough to say, "You know...I'd rather not put a child through that." I would rather someone choose NOT to bring a life into this world that they know they are unequipped to deal with than to see a woman bear child after child that she cannot care for, and even worse, resents.
I have a big problem with men being the driving force behind all of the pro-life rhetoric. While I think that they are allowed their opinion, I do not think it should carry as much weight at a woman's, simply because they are bystanders in the issue. Sure, it takes a man (or a product of man, the sperm) to get a woman pregnant, so his opinion should not be completely discounted. But, all of the real decision making should lie with the woman -- the woman who has to bear the child. The woman who could be endangering her own health, both physically and mentally, by bearing a child that she may not want, or does not have the means to care for.
Don't mistake me -- I'm neither a man-hater nor a child-hater. I'm a straight, white, married, middle-class mother of one. I love my life, and I'm proud of both my husband and my child. But -- there are people out there who are not as fortunate as I am right now. I myself, was once not so fortunate, but had I not had a choice, what I am today could be radically different from what I could have been. I'm lucky in that I was affluent enough to be able to make the choices I did. I could not imagine the heartache of being one of those disenfranchised ladies who are faced with an unwanted pregnancy, and no other option.
I do not think that the government has any right to dictate my reproductive rights to me. I resent wealthy white men coming over all bombastic and rigid over abortion rights when they can never experience it for themselves. When they often don't care enough to use birth control in the first place or take care of their unborn child once it has been created. Isn't it enough the government pokes their nose into my rights plenty as it is? My life is pretty much an open book -- what you see is what you get -- but do I have to sacrifice even my body upon the altar of their morality? The answer is "no." And, in my opinion, "no" it shall remain.
How sad, and vaguely pathetic, is it that I compulsively check Post Secret for weeks and then feel disappointed every week that the postcard I sent in isn't there?
I guess it's just a bit depressing because I feel like if my secret is out there, someone else will see it and not feel so alone. And, I could almost deal with my hurt a little better, knowing that there was someone else out there who felt like me.
As seen at Marni's place, here's a creative meme that lets your inner headbanger rock and roll all night long and party ever-ry day. Let's Make a Band, where you create your own album cover! The rules are as follows:
I have a designated parking space at school, and I often get very frustrated to arrive at school and discover that someone is parked in my space.
It happened again this morning -- the fourth time in about seven school days -- and I was hoppin' mad. One time is bad enough but *four* times? When I walked into the front office, I told our secretary that someone was parked in my space, AGAIN, and I made no bones about the fact that I was miffed. I let the secretary know that for three days, it was a gold colored Mitsubishi, and today, it was a white Taurus, in case she knew to whom those cars belonged.
I had guessed that they belonged to parents or substitutes, since most staff know not to park in the assigned spaces.
Around nine-thirty in the morning, the owner of the white Taurus is paged to the office. I only half-listened to the announcement, since I was busy with my morning routine.
Later in the morning, I ran up to the teacher's workroom to make some copies, and popped into the front office to grab some scotch tape. The secretary then informed me that I had better count my blessings because a parent had lost control of her car earlier, backed right into the car that was parked in my space, and there was a fair amount of damage done.
I don't think I'll complain too loudly that people are parked in my space anymore. Karma can be a real bitch.
You may no longer qualify as my "baby", but you will always be so to me. No matter how old you grow, no matter how big you get. You will always be the person that grew underneath my heart; a part of me.
Today you turn twelve. Twelve years ago, your father and I cried with joy as you were born. Your grandparents all fought to be the first to hold you. We stared into your big blue eyes, and we all fell in love. Even though you're not a baby any more, we love you just as much today as we did back then. You are growing up so fast, right before my eyes, and I want to bottle you so that I can remember each day, each different you.
Even though you sometimes scoff at me as if to say, "Mom! Stop treating me like a little kid!," I try to give you room for hugs if you need them. I'll tell you a little secret -- I need them, too. I miss my little girl who used to crawl up on my lap for snuggles, but I really like the grown-up girl who wants me to teach her to cook, too.
This Christmas and birthday were hard for your dad and I. You're in that in-between phase, where you still like toys, but you're also growing out of them, too. You're a study in contrasts: the girl who asks for dolls AND high-heeled shoes. I know your parents seem like the uncoolest people, ever! but, cut us some slack. We've never had a 12-year old before, and babies don't come with owner's manuals. All you need to know is that we *do* love you, despite what you may think sometimes. And, no -- we don't wish you were a baby again. We love you just the way you are. And, we wouldn't change you for the world.
I have decided that I will not be making any resolutions this year. I usually try and make one or two, and when I flame out spectacularly on them, I usually feel like a failure. I have good intentions, but I think I set very unrealistic goals for myself. Say, for example, expecting to lose 100 pounds before the summer. That's admirable, but I'd have to lop off at least one arm and one leg to make that a feasible goal. Losing weight is a good idea, but I want too much, too fast.
So, rather than set myself up for what seems like pre-scheduled self loathing and torture, I decided that I would just not make any resolutions. I will still try and do the things like I would normally resolve to do, but I won't set myself sky-high goals or limits.
So, instead of saying: "I will lose fifty pounds or more," I will just try to eat better, and get more exercise without quantifying it.
Instead of saying, "My house will be utterly spic and span," I will just keep trying to get rid of excess stuff, and organize those things I do have. My recent near-obsession with storage cabinets and bins and the like is already helping in this area.
I'm just tired of disappointing myself. Maybe if I try a low-key approach, I will be more successful.