I will start here. There is a certain victory when a married-duel-partnership-woman who is currently in single-parent-mode is able to successfully prepare the children for bed. Regardless. Here is Emily. It was suggested by our Senior Data Analyst (Allyson)that it be titled Pajama Princess. So there it is, my little Pajama Princess. Let the record show that Sam was able to successfully hijack the crown and slept with it in his bed. Didn't wear it, just didn't want his sister to have it.
Now, the 'What????????' title does not refer to the aforementioned photo. It is in reference to John McCains running mate. As you all know, I don't know what I am. Republican, Democrat, Presbyterian, Slacker, who knows. I can not even select a brand of green beans to purchase- let alone 'title' myself. But put one of the political parties on 'clearance' and I'm there. It's how I make all major decisions- by waiting for one to go on clearance.
That is a problem, and probably nothing I would want to put here for everyone to know. But I will do it anyway. It is the truth. It's part of who I am. And if all of my selections of whatever I am trying to purchase (sofas, vehicles, garden plants, comforters, corn) are all full price- I will buy none. Can not make a decision, that is me.
So this morning I see that John McCain has selected Miss Alaska (I struggle to remember my loved ones names- she doesn't stand a chance of being remembered by me) to be his running mate. She is very pretty- very sophisticated in a 'soft' kind of way- very warm looking- her glasses were shiny- she has some political background- nice shoes. I don't really care about any of that- what struck me is "Mother of 5". I thought to myself "wow, a mother in the white house- she'll be able to get it all done, at the same time, while wearing her pajamas and packing a baby on her hip".
Then I noticed this small child- what could she have been- 5ish? following her 'mom'- our 'vice-presidential republican candidate' around the stage. "McCain and Miss Alaska will begin their 40 day campaign tour" the man began to tell another story. 40 days? 40 days? How in the sam heck is this woman going to leave her home for 40 days? I thought her children were older- maybe graduated and moved out- but obviously not as evidenced by this 'mini miss alaska' shadowing her around.
Not her home- obviously absense is nothing a gigantic cleaning service can not fix (we all know that our hubbies- although they really really really try- can not possibly do 'it' how 'we' like 'it'- no offense to mine in case he actually reads this little snippit of my random ramblings).
So-back to where I was- Not her home, but her children. I notice some of Miss Alaskas children are older- and apparently birthing off spring of their own. So she is also a grandma (what a hot grandma I might add)- but I will touch on that in a bit (the grandma, not her hotness). But what about the back to school festival she will miss, the soccer games, the girl scout camping trip, the argument over what outfit to wear for school pictures, the homework, the quest for her youngests 'favorite' shirt when her bus is due in 23 seconds, the snack bucket- what about her children and their super important children issues that will only come once before they grow up like super inflatable rafts? How is she going to do all that? How, how, how?
And how is she going to decorate christmas trees and bake big loaves of breads with strange things in them that the grandchildren wouldn't touch anyway? That is her duty as a grandma, how is she going to do her 'grandma' as 'vice president grandma mom'? Although it's been a few years since I was vice president- I would imagine it is an all consuming job- to say the least. Does it leave time for pumpkin planting and baking?
Please don't go off on a tangent about me being a moran and how womens rights and such- blabbity blabbity blabbity. There is an OBVIOUS message here- although women can serve well in the corporate world and for the most part possess a better ability to handle certain things as well as, if not better than men (no offense- I'm just pointing out that women can do anything- like super heros in skirts and mustard stains)- the message is that she is needed by her children. In my opinion.
I just wonder what she will be sacrificing in her home in order to 'run the country'. For that, I feel sorry for her. Or us? And of course her children? Don't know. Again, I have no doubt she could do it- I just wonder why she wants to. When McCain called me, I just told him my children were still too little and I needed a few more years. Maybe in 2017, he understood.
I am not Joan Cleaver- although I have been mistaken several times. But I do think that although we (non penis bearing humans) are capable of doing it all- do we really want to? I kind of like knowing all the stuff about my children, and that there are marbles in that drawer under the stove (what is that drawer for anyway), and that they ate sliced american cheese for lunch, and that there is no sand in the sandbox because it has all been relocated to my deck, and that Sam squeels when a butterfly comes close, that Allyson can not find enough cicada shells and that Emily planted pumpkins in the flower bed. I am the vice president of this empire- my sticky, noisy empire.
For me- I feel that God has asked me to take care of these three strange creatures (four if you count Dan). And although I fail them miserably most of the time, I am honored and will continue to try to do better. And because they give me the opportunity to try again, I know that somewhere in this mess I am not completely screwing it up.
We all joke about our children being the president, but in all honesty, I have no real desire for any of my children to take on that role. Because then I would have to find a dress that would make me look sophisticated AND skinny- which is impossible. Too much stress- being the mother of the president. Everyone would be analysing my ways and methods- and their quirks and obserbities- and then 'they' (the garbage scouring press people) would stumble upon this blog and use all of these silly photos and stories against them. Which would point back to be being the bad mother that I am afraid I might be. And then what if they dig up details about my childrens lives that I DON'T want to know (first loves, flamable herbs, naked protests, no thanks).
Nope- I just want them to do something that makes them happy. And I want to bake strange breads for their children. In my pajamas. And I want them in my home as often as possible, with their sticky children and their not-good-enough spouses (how could they possibly be good enough?)
More power to Miss Alaska, maybe her mom is around and can step in, or maybe she has a nanny, or a super fabulous stay at home husband, or maybe just plain old super powers? I'm not judging, just sayin. Can you imagine her in her kitchen cooking spaghettios and grilled cheese while on the phone with the Emperor of China? Is there an Emperor of China? I can not even call the insurance company without interupting 3042 times to ask my children to stop hitting, talking, throwing, screaming, piano playing, tv turning up to louding, begging. Would love to be a fly on the wall of that kitchen............