Veto. That's all I can say. Veto. And maybe ick.
And yay for George Clooney not taking himself too seriously.
I find that crap like this makes me all twitchy. Because it's a terrible idea to actually assist in the prevention of a disease. According to the American Life League (real winners there), “They’re pushing pornography and contraception onto young children – beginning in kindergarten. Now parents aren’t even safe to go shopping without worrying Planned Parenthood will pressure their kids into promiscuous lifestyles that will increase their bloated birth control and abortion profits.” Yes, Planned Parenthood is just rolling in the proverbial dough. That's why they didn't need all that Title X funding. To quote Gray's Anatomy: Seriously?
Maybe I should move to Virginia.
The headline says it all: Mother, daughter use beer to escape attacker

I'm lazy and slightly stressed today, and I'm not in the mood to talk about myself, so you get links! Enjoy.

My face turned bright red as I read this. I think I am a prude at heart. But it is an interesting article.

And I need a vacation, according to The Baltimore Parenting Examiner. And really, I'm not sure I know of anyone (with or without kids) who could take that quiz and not need a vacation, (except maybe my sister.)

And (finally!) an explanation as to why so many children are uninsured!

Apparently, birth order affects divorce liklihood. My dad and stepmom, sister and brother-in-law and my friends B & P and E & T show that the study is correct. But D is an only and I'm an only/middle. Where does that leave us?

Want to see something creepy? Go to Google Maps and look up your residence. Go to street view. Here's my trash can. (and apparently, it was no longer trash day. we rarely bring the empty can back in on time. busted.) And here's the Barbee House. And here's my car at my parent's house. And my old apartment! Granted, these pics are outdated by about a year, but it's still a little weird that I can see my house (or anyone else's, for that matter) in such detail so easily.

Last night I was at the aforementioned Barbee House and imbibed some (many?) of the finest mojitos I have ever had the pleasure to taste, with some of the finest people I have ever had the pleasure to know. I love that I have friends with whom I am so comfortable; who know my story and still like me anyway. I love that we have jokes that go back years, and that we all have our own little quirks that can always be counted upon to make appearances. My friends are truly like an extended family, and I absolutely adore all of them. Even the ones who moved to Maine.

One quick note: This is great. Women are victims of domestic abuse because they refuse to be good Christians and submit to their husbands. And according to the op/ed, I'm going to heaven, because I've given birth. So there.

Anyway, this weekend, D was a saint and offered to go to Ikea with me and the midgets. And no, we didn't trek to Chicago, because there's a brand-new store in West Chester, Ohio! And, my friend, that is only about 2 hours away. And how did everything go? Pretty good. Not a total disaster, but the kids will not be going to Ikea again. At least not together, and not with me.

But we got some SPIFFY stuff. The bathroom sink downstairs (a sad little sink, with zero charm, less efficiency, and no storage) in our house was looking like it was about to fall off the wall, was so low that LPT could reach just fine without a step stool, and the handles for the water were so hard to turn on and off that there was a stream of water left running every time LPT washed her hands. Something had to be done. So D and I bit the bullet and bought a new sink, cabinet, and faucet.

And then we decided that we would become plumbers. As a result, the sink is almost functional, (the pipes were just a skosh too short.) and I have a blister on my finger. Good times. But the bathroom already looks 100% better.

Another side note, falling into the "Kids say the darndest things" category: The family is snuggling in (our) bed this morning, and apparently my shirt had ridden up, exposing my stomach under the covers. I feel little feet on my tummy, then Lil' Puddin' Tater says, "Mommy, I can feel your wrinkles. On your tummy. Pull your shirt down."

On the tail end of my lunch hour, I was looking on the interweb for a birthday present for J when I saw the cutest thing EVAH. Little heart sugars! With a space to hang them on your mug!

And then there's these. Which are just ingenious. Just the other day I sent rice flying when I stepped away from the stove and left the spoon in the pot.

I've begun to double brew my coffee in the mornings - I think this means that my tolerance to caffeine is growing. But the double-brew method works wonders for my energy levels, and I think there's a psychosomatic effect as well; just thinking about how productive I will be gets me moving. I even got up (not woke up to feed the baby, but actually got myself out of bed and began my day) at 6:15 this morning, leaving LPT and D snoring in the bed.

And then LPT woke up (she could sense, from the depths of her sleep, that I might be doing something somewhere without her, and it might be fun) and we turned on cartoons (well, Noggin. Not cartoons exactly.) And we saw the coolest show! It's called Oobi, and the concept is something I could easily recreate with LPT and some craft supplies.

A side note to Banana Republic: this photo does not make me want to purchase these shorts. At all.

I didn't feel like posting this with my other post on Michelle Obama - it just didn't feel appropriate.

On Thursday, 29 May, my grandmother died. It was my mom's mom, and being one of the closest grandchildren (one is two hours away, another lives in Tennessee, and yet another in Georgia), and owing to the fact that my mom was the de facto caregiver for the majority of the time (living only an hour away and retired), I saw her quite a bit. She lived long enough to see my wedding, and the birth of my two children, even if she was almost completely gone (mentally) when the second was born. After my parents divorced when I was two, my mom and I lived with her for about three years and commuted to the city every day. She was an amazing woman.

Rebecca Joyce Mattingly (nee Cook)

Born 22 August 1930 to Beckham & Janie Mae Cook; second of three daughters (Joanna & Murna). Married summer of 1948 to Billy McMurray (high school sweetheart). Gave birth to Larry Gean in October 1948, then Rebecca Jo in February of 1951, then Patricia Joyce (my mother) in July of 1952. In August of 1958, Billy died of leukemia (6 weeks from start to finish). Remarries Charles Mattingly in 1961, and gives birth to Michael Owen in August of 1963. Divorced in early 1970s. Worked at Crume Drug Store for the majority of time that I can remember, and had to retire when macular degeneration began the process of rendering her blind in the mid 1990s. Founding member of Parkway Baptist Church. Talented piano player. Immaculate dresser. Generous to a fault.

Wonderful grandmother, loving and kind.