To Night Shift and No Babysitter

Thirty hours without sleep
purple penguins at her feet
Tucker running round and round
Mommy eating coffee grounds

Hearing call bells in her head
oh how she longs to be in bed
To sleep, to sleep perchance to dream
of babbling brooks and rushing streams

Of sunny skies and rainbow trout
and small green froggies all about
Across the streets they try to hop
amongst the traffic, it won't stop

And yellow circles eating dots
chased by ghosts, oh see the spots
Of Dick & Jane, who see Spot run
And Jack & Jill, just having fun

Psychedelic floating butterfly
belly dancing hippopotami*
All end up in a traffic jam
and Mary had a little lamb.

By: one ass-tired Rissybutt

*Hippopotami really is the plural of hippopotamus (though hippopotamuses is
also acceptable)

What do you mean, you don't care about my blog??

In a post over at crazymumma's place, I read about a T-shirt that says, "I don't care about your blog". I was shocked!!! I had no idea that the looks I was receiving from people were the blank stares of boredom and indifference!! I took the wide eyes and open mouths as those of excitement and utter amazement that I had any creativity in me at all. I am crushed.

My family, on the other hand, has been inundated by my blog. In all of my personal emails, there is an invitation to come and read here. My sisters have read here, "Hi, Girls!". They never leave a comment though. I did get a nice email from my one sister about my post about my dad, telling me that I had done a nice job. Apparently she told my mom about it, because the other day when talking to mom, she said, "Your sister told me about the article you wrote about your dad on your blog". Say WHAT???? Did my 75yr old mother just say the word BLOG???? Wow, I was amazed. She said my sister was going to print it out for her to read, since she doesn't own a computer at all. Thanks, J.

This blogging thing has really taken on a life of its own for me. I can't believe how wonderful it is to write and be read. And to reach out and read a host of absolutely wonderful writers in exchange. I urge anyone who reads this to take note of the blogs I follow, over to the left and give them a read too. I have found some pretty amazing things out there. One of those bloggers over there will be writing a guest post here for me on Thursday. Be sure to come and read it, as she is an excellent writer and her blog has quite a large following.

Everybody Farts

Tuc: MOM!!! Kawyn stinks......
Me: Oh?? Why?
Tuc: She fawted.....*imagine screwed up little face here*
Me: Well, Tuc, everyone farts.
Tuc: Yeah, and Bwaeden doesn't even say 'scuse me
Me: That's boys for ya

Since my posts that mention "poop" have been so wildly popular in the comment arena, I figured I would draw on that formula again.

In doing an Internet search on "Children's Books about farts" and found some really interesting titles. The Little Book of Farting by Alec Bromcie, Farley Farts by Birtie Muller, and a whole series of Walter the Farting Dog books by William Kotzwinkle, Glenn Murray, and Audrey Colman. There is also a book called Everyone Poops by Taro Gomi. I urge you to go check them out at Amazon

Farts, as you know, vary. They can be loud, obnoxious and downright disturbing. Or, they can be of the silent and deadly type. "What the hell is that?" They can be brought on intentionally, or sneak up on you when you least expect it. They can be influenced by ones chosen diet of the day. "You are what you eat" Or they can be a symptom of a digestive disorder. Of course, every mammal farts. I have proof of that, I live with a Basset Hound. We don't call him Gassy Gus for nothing. And for any of you Seinfeld fans, "OH!!! Rusty!!!!"

Different people react to farts, or flatulence if you prefer, differently. Children especially find them amusing and tend to make a big deal about them, no matter where they are or who is the one doing the farting. Most adults try to ignore them, for the most part, or walk away from the offending party. Of course we all have the brother/brother-in-law/uncle/dad/grandpa that thinks they are hilarious, "Dude, pull my finger". Somehow, I can't imagine a woman doing or saying that.

As a nurse, I have been privilege to many emissions of the flatulent variety, and all patients have a different way of reacting. There are the ones that are very embarrassed, the ones that don't really seem to notice, the ones that don't really care. The latter always seem to be the little old grannies. They ring in the night, needing help to the bathroom. You get there and they haven't even started to remove their covers. You put their slippers (god only knows what those have stepped in over the course of the day) on their gnarly little granny feet. You tug and pull and get them to the edge of their bed. Get the walker to them, heave ho, heave ho, heave ho to get them in a standing position. "Tuck your tushy under your shoulders and stand up straight." Walk them to the bathroom. And just as you stand behind them, bending down to assist them with pulling down their underpants, they let one rip. Aren't I lucky? Bet you wish you could be a nurse too!!!

Spellchecker.......am I just being OCD?

I am a stickler for spelling. I really don't like reading my own posts and finding spelling or grammatical errors. It probably has something to do with my self esteem issues and not wanting anyone to view me as less than an intelligent articulate person. I find myself re-reading posts, even after published, going back and editing them, spellchecking them, using the online dictionaries and thesaurus' in order to be correct. And yet, I do not find the need to be politically correct.....go figure.

A conversation with Tucker.....

You may or may not know that Tucker is my 3 year old son. He is sweet, funny, and oh so precocious. Let me tell you how our conversations go sometimes.

Tucker: Mommy, I don't wuv my gurfriends.

Me: Tuc, how many girlfriends do you have?

Tucker: None, *you have to see the little grin and blush when he says this*

Me: Oh? What about Julia? *Julia is the babysitters little girl*

Tucker: I wuv Jooya.

Me: Isn't she your girlfriend then?

Tucker: Yes, but I don't wuv gurfriends.

Me: Okay, you are too young to worry about girlfriends anyway. Who has a girlfriend that you know?

Tucker: Bwaeden (my 15yr old, who, to MY knowledge, has no girlfriend)

Me: Oh? How many girlfriends does he have?

Tucker: Four

Me: Who are they?

Tucker: Mommy, why does Angus eat his own poop?

As you can see, the child has either been brainwashed already to not divulge to the mommy any pertinent information regarding dating habits of the older siblings, or, he got bored and really wanted to know why the dog is so gross.

War Paint

What is this fascination children have with coloring on themselves? Is it the making of a tattoo addict? Every one of my children has this strange behaviour. It starts out young, and my oldest son is still doing it. Of course, now he is asking for tattoos, piercings, etc. I personally have nothing against tattoos, seeing as I have one myself and plan to get more in the future. I have nothing really against piercings either, except I know what people automatically think when they see a kid with piercings on his face. I thank the lord that the law here states that you have to be 18 to be tattooed or pierced, period. No notes from mom or anything. At least this is what i have been told.




I was 30 when I got my tattoo. It isn't the nicest one, but it is very meaningful to me. I got it after I lost my son, Gabriel. It is a cherub over my heart. I loved it then, I love it now, I will love it forever. But I wonder what some of these young people who get trendy tattoos will think in 40 years or so. Somehow I can't imagine caring for an eighty year old woman with a Tramp Stamp. (no this is not me in that photo)






But, I digress. My children all come home with pen and ink all over themselves. The other day I happened to see both my daughter and my son (the 10yr old one) with faces drawn on their bellies. I guess this is funny when you are that age.....and you make the mouth out of the belly button. Today though, the three year old decided he needed Tribal War Paint.

No Guest Post Today

In an effort to attract more readers, I put out a call to other bloggers to do some guest posts on my blog. Alas, I don't seem to have enough readers to actually get anyone to Guest Post. One friend has offered to do one when her work schedule slows down a bit, look for it, it will be good.

But for today, I guess I will have to post for myself. And of course, I have no idea what to write about.

Later today I am going to be getting Wireless Satelitte Internet services. I have been dealing with dial-up here in this little one horse town since I moved here 5 years ago. I have finally had enough. I often can't even open up my email program because the smallest of files will jam it up. I haven't been able to download anything in 5 years because I don't have the time committment of hours to wait for it. This has been especially difficult since I moved here from a city and had cable satellite there. I am looking forward to the new faster internet.

Of course, that will mean that the kids will be on it all the time too. Downloading music and games and other things. Oh joy. The other advantage or maybe a disadvantage is that my phone line will not be tied up by the internet. Right now I have a call director and can choose to ignore any calls that I don't want to interupt my internet time. Now, I will just have to listen to the phone ringing in order to ignore it. At least when I phone home from work, the kids will have no excuse not to answer the phone.

I will post tomorrow and let you all know how much I am loving it!

Nothing like a good crap to clear your mind.....

That was something an old doctor here used to say once in a while. Boy, was he right. It is amazing to me how when older people get kinda "backed up" how strangely their mind begins to work.

I took this picture in the cookie aisle in my supermarket last night.....



I shit you not.........

What marketing genius thought this up???????

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT:

1. Eat plenty of fibre and drink plenty of fluid to maintain colorectal health.
2. Get screened for colorectal cancer.
3. Buy yourself some Bowel Buddies.

Stupid MOM!!!!!

Lately, this is the title I have acquired from my three year old son. Charming isn't it. I am not exactly sure where he came up with it, even if for the most part, it is quite fitting. I am assuming he has learned it from his older siblings calling each other stupid.

I do not like the name calling and put downs that I hear from my kids mouths for each other. I am constantly reprimanding them for it. But it seems, it is all to no avail. What is a stupid mom to do???

I remember a story about my older sister, when she was quite young. My parents rented a home from a man and that man was a friendly acquaintance of theirs as well. As the story goes, this man was teasing my sister about something. She called him stupid. Upon hearing this, my mother told her to go and apologize to Harry. She begrudgingly went to apologize. She found Harry, and said to him, "Harry, I am sorry you are stupid"

Out of the mouths of babes...........

Lest We Forget

My father was a veteran from World War II. He was stationed in London, England for four years. He said he was one of the lucky ones, since he enlisted, he was given a good position, and didn't have to fight in the front lines. He worked in the Sargent's Mess and took care of the officers. He didn't see a lot of fighting, but there were the air raids that plagued London. He didn't like to talk too much about the war, or his part in it. I believe it haunted him to some extent. As a young girl I remember hearing him talk in his sleep, or more so scream. When he would be awoken, he would say he was dreaming of the air raids and the bombs in London. I could never imagine my father holding a gun, let alone pointing one at another human being. I was happy to know that was not his role in the war.

My father was a lot older than my mother, and was almost 60 when I was born. I loved him dearly. He retired before I even started school, so I grew up with a stay-at-home dad and a working mom. Pretty forward thinking for the 70's. My dad would get me up for school and drive me there every day. Often would pick me up after school as well. My friends thought he was cool because he wore blue jeans and runners when their own much younger fathers would not. He was soft spoken and gentle. I was his little girl.

My father was not without faults. He suffered from depression. Something that was not readily diagnosed back then. He missed his family. All but one of his siblings had passed away young. His younger brother died the year I was born. He was a diabetic and had heart trouble. I do not believe my father ever got over that. My father medicated his depression with alcohol. This got progressively more pronounced after he retired. I remember him saying to me, when I was young, that he was of no use anymore. And I remember thinking how much I needed him. The alcohol was a difficult thing for me, as I got older. I would be embarrassed if my friends came over and he was drinking. I hated being embarrassed of my father...this man that I adored.

I had gone away to university for a few years, not really seeing much of my father. Then the year before I got married, I moved back home and worked with my mom in the nursing home. It was at this time when I realized that it was not just alcohol that was stealing my father away from me. He was in his eighties now, and he was starting to become forgettful. My mother and I both blamed it on the alcohol. Thinking he was just drinking more, or needing less to get drunk. We tried to work opposite shifts so that someone would always be there with him to watch out for him. It wasn't until a couple of years later that we would come to know that he was being taken away from us by Alzheimers.

It started to show at my wedding. He was confused by all the people, he seemed to think that he was the best man, not the father of the bride. I again was embarrassed of this man. Afraid he would make a fool of me on my wedding day. I remember even specifically asking the DJ not to make a big deal out of a special dance for him and I. I look back on that now, and I am so glad they didn't listen. He really did well and held it together the best he could for me.

My father was always a very quiet man. He never raised his voice to me. He never raised a hand to me. The worst punishment he could give me was to tell me I had disappointed him. I always wanted to do well and please him. From the time I was very young, he talked of me being a nurse. I shared that dream......I am not sure if it was shared with him or shared for him. But I pursued the career nonetheless. I did not do very well in my first years of study, and I always felt I was letting him down. By the time I actually realized this goal and graduated from nursing school, Alzheimers had taken over....I am not sure that he ever knew that I had accomplished this dream he had for me. I like to think now that he does know.

My father passed away on May 29th, 2002. At the age of 95. He had been in a nursing home for a few years, and bedridden the last bit of that. I had moved away from the city he lived in the year prior to that, and rarely saw him. Even being a nurse, I found it very difficult to spend much time with him. I missed the intelligent, gentle man I had known growing up, and seeing him as less than that was very painful. The day he passed, I had gotten to see him though, and I kissed him and told him I loved him. I believe that in Heaven, his thoughts are clear, and he knows how much I loved him, and how proud I truly was of him. I miss him.

In remembrance of Dad, on Remembrance Day

I can't hear you!!!!!!

Today is day one of an extra long weekend........for the kids. Tomorrow is Remembrance Day, so they get today off school, and I am not even sure why they get Monday off, but they do. Of course this lands on my weekend to work my three nights. I am not sure how I am going to get any sleep whatsoever. Especially with no door on my bedroom, and four kids who don't seem to know how to communicate with each other without yelling.

The door came off my bedroom two weeks ago. I was at work on a Saturday and came home to find my bedroom door in the hallway. Now, we are in the midst of renovations, so a door not being on a bedroom is pretty common around here. Except, for the one and only time in the history of my children, no one is talking. Usually these little heathens will sell each other out in a heartbeat. Never have they banded together on anything.....until now. It actually makes me laugh. Until I have to sleep during the day and the heathens are all in my house.

Today I have assigned several chores. None of which seem to be getting done at any pace. I do hear a lot of bickering and sniping........I suppose they get it from their rather sarcastic and cynical mother. I just want it to stop. I am tired, oh so tired of hearing, "MOM!!" and then the litany of complaints each has about how the other one isn't doing their job. UGH!! I have finally started just saying, "I can't hear you" "I'm not listening to you" "When your job is done, you can complain about someone else" Although, like everything else this mommy does, I am certain that, "I can't hear you" will come back to bite me in the ass...........

Guest Post Thursday

Your post could appear here, just click here Focused Insanity to send me your post & blog address,

Plight of the Drama Queen, Part Deux

To give you some background on the reason this happened. My house is in renovation hell. The only room that is NOT ripped apart is my bedroom. So this means that my daughter's/son's room is uninhabitable at the moment. And since my spouse and I separated three weeks ago (not due to the renovations, but a very good theory), the two youngest children have been sleeping with me in my bed. Very tricky with one child who has a cast....I should be getting danger pay for this.

Skip to last night. The doctor had advised me to give the girl Ibuprofen to help get the swelling in her wrist down so that we can get the permanent cast on her arm tomorrow. So, I had given her a couple doses with no problems. Last night about 10:30 I gave her a third dose. About 3:AM I woke up to the bed shaking...I hear her scratching wildly. I told her to stop it, she was shaking the bed and would end up waking Tuc. She said she was just so itchy. I, of course, being the wonderful mother and nurse that I am (see post below), told her to suck it up and stop scratching. I was under the impression that she was trying to scratch under her cast. A few minutes later, after multiple rounds of, "shake shake shake, STOP SCRATCHING, I can't help it" she says to me, "Mom, is there anything I can do for my lip?" In my half asleep, rather annoyed state, it took a minute for that to sink in. I flip on the lamp to see my poor beautiful daughter covered in one huge hive, and with a bottom lip so fat it had its own weather system. "OH GOD!!!" I go to the medicine cabinet and get her a Benadryl. She is going completely nuts with the itching. About an hour and half later, it isn't any better. I call our local HealthLink where a nurse will answer your questions...all I wanted to know was if I could give her more Benadryl. The nurse said she could not give medication advice and gave me a number to a 24hour pharmacist hotline. There I was told that I had given her the maximum and could not repeat it for 2 more hours. So, I drag her little hive covered butt to the ER. Of course, by the time we get there, the Benadryl is starting to work some, and she is not scratching anymore. Her lip is still swollen but not as bad. The nurse calls the doctor, the doctor says, "She can repeat the Benadryl" ARGH!!! But then decides that maybe some prednisone and Atarax are a better treatment choice. So back home we come......Ky is still sleeping from the Atarax.

Plight of the Drama Queen, Daughter of a Nurse

My daughter, the drama queen.

If any of you have a daughter between the ages of... well, if you have a daughter, you have a drama queen. They tend to blow everything out of proportion. My daughter, who will be eight soon, is no exception. Add that to the fact that she has two older brothers and a baby brother, and you have a Diva Drama Queen. So, when she came home from school on Thursday and said she hurt her arm, I didn't pay much attention. She wasn't crying from the pain, they hadn't called me from the school to say she had hurt herself. When I examined the arm it didn't even look swollen. I was on my way to work a night shift as well, so perhaps I wasn't as observant or sympathetic as I could have been.

Skip ahead to Saturday when I was trying to sleep after my night shift, with the kids running up and down the hallway and no door on my bedroom (another long story I will tell you about later). I was NOT in a good mood. I was very very tired and they were NOT letting me sleep. So when she told me that she hurt her arm again on Friday and that it was hurting even more, I really didn't pay much attention. I did examine it again, but still, no obvious deformity or major swelling, so I passed it off again.

Skip ahead to Sunday evening. We are out to dinner, Ky is favouring that arm, but of course, I am thinking that the Diva Drama Queen is just looking for attention. Everytime you go near her, she is cringing and whining. I look at the arm, okay, the wrist is a little swollen, but nothing terrible. Then, Sunday night, she is complaining of a headache and pain in the wrist. I give her some Tylenol....at 2:AM, she is still awake, says the wrist is hurting too much to sleep, but that the Tylenol took the headache away. So, okay, I will take her in to the doctor in the morning.

Monday morning. I have to go for fasting bloodwork at the hospital, so I take her to the outpatient department, knowing full well they will have to do x-rays anyway, so what is the point of going to the clinic. I work in this small rural hospital so I know all the people there. The doctor looks at her arm, says he thinks she has a greenstick fracture and sends her for x-ray. Sure enough, her right ulna has a small greenstick fracture. We put the cast on, just a temporary one, since today, the darn thing is quite swollen. We go back Thursday for a regular cast.

Boy does this mom & nurse feel like an idiot. I will definitely be sucking up to the Diva Drama Queen today!

Of Basset Hounds and Sour Cherry Blasters

I have entered my dog Angus, and my cat Ginger into the online worlds of Dogster.com and Catster.com. If you do not know about these communities, they are for crazy animal lovers who think of their pets as just furry humans who reside in their homes. I am one of these people. The following post is reprinted here from Angus' online Diary on Dogster.com. If you are interested in reading more posts from Angus in the future, bookmark or blogroll his page Dog Profile for Angus

Do Your Ears Hang Low?

Of Bassett Hounds and Sour Cherry Blasters
November 4th 2006 8:21 pm

Well with Halloween just past, I have to tell you, I have eaten some of the strangest, most unhealthy things for a dog to eat. Thankfully my humans understand that chocolate is not a good treat for a dog. Even my youngest human, Tucker, who is three, knows not to give me chocolate. But, he does not know enough not to give me Sour Cherry Blasters. For any of you who have never tasted one of these treats, let me tell you what it is like.

For humans, Sour Cherry Blasters give you a rush of sour flavour that makes your mouth water and then you get the sweet cherry flavour afterwards. For Basset Hounds, who notoriously drool anyway, the effects are embarassing. Tucker gave me this little treat, smaller than a dime actually, and I couldn't believe what happened! At first it was just a little drool, from the sour. I chewed it up quickly, but the sour must have stayed in my mouth or something, because within seconds, my mouth was running drool like a fountain. It was dripping from droopy lips like a leaky faucet. To make matters worse, my humans were all standing there watching and laughing. The drool was hitting the floor and soaking the rug where I was standing. No one offered me a drink or anything. Finally the main human who takes care of me stopped laughing long enough to wipe my lips and give me a big snuggle, saying, "Oh you poor puppy".

Of course, when Tucker offered me another one a little while later, I didn't refuse.

Guest Post Thursday

Hi everyone,
This post is basically an email a real life friend wrote to me. I found it cute and quirky, and even though she doesn't have her own blog, I asked her if I could post it as my first Guest Post. She agreed. So here it is.

"We had an uneventful Halloween. We carved our pumpkin too early and kept it on the island in the kitchen cuz it was so cool, but just in case you didn't know, carved pumpkins don't store so good for too long in the warmth of a kitchen ... I shoulda put it out on the landing like last year where it was cold - cuz that baby rotted and melted and started to stink like something unbelievable (reminds me of the decline of my first marriage) ... so, I turfed it (reminds me of my first husband) and bought one of those plastic, fantastically carved plug-in pumpkins from WalMart - trouble-free, hassle-free, non-messy, economical and I can just shove it in the closet until I need it next year (reminds me of the husband I'm looking for now). Ahhh, the joys of Halloween ... C1 went to a haunted house party, and C2 didn't want to dress up and go out ... not until 7:45 last night, anyway ... so there I was, in my pyjamas already!, getting dressed and bundling up the li'l Spiderman to take him out for a bit. He won't eat candy, so I was really going out for myself (who am I kidding) and using his cuteness as bait, but we ended up coming home with a HUGE assortment of goodies ... way too much ... but, I think somehow I'll get through it ... one kitkat at a time."
from T

The Halloween Hangover

There's frost on the jack'o'lanterns. The kids are in school but mostly in a sugar coma. I have had nothing to eat today besides coffee and chocolate. Oh, I lied. I have had fruit. Fruit flavoured Tootsie Rolls that is. Just when did they start making fruit flavoured tootsie rolls anyway? I remember as a kid, my dad would bring me tootsie rolls when he came home from work. I remember them tasting like........well.......like chocolate. The chocolate ones today do not really taste much like chocolate. But I never saw a fruit flavoured one in my life, until a couple years ago when my kids brought some home in their halloween candy. I have been hooked ever since. The only thing I don't get is the assortment of flavours in them. So far I have had lime, orange, lemon, cherry and vanilla? wtf? I didn't know vanilla was a fruit flavour, but I digress. I don't honestly understand why you would have lime and lemon........to my completely uneducated palate, they taste pretty much the same. Personally, I would prefer a banana flavoured one in place of the lemon. Kind of like the banana flavoured MoJo that I used to be able to buy at the candy store as a kid. They were sold two for a penny. There were a few flavours of those, spearmint being one, but the banana flavoured ones were my favourite. I would pick through the box at the store just to get the banana ones. I wonder if they even still make MoJos?

As you can plainly see by they picture to the left, I make a very beguiling witch. My daughter (pictured above) and I decided to go as Mother/Daughter Glamour witches. We looked fabulous, darling! And everyone said so. But of course my daughter had to tell everyone that the makeup came right out of my regular makeup bag!! Except the eyelashes of course. I can't however explain how eyeliner, when lining your eyes, can smudge and smear all over your face, but when drawn in scrolls on your cheeks can barely be removed without a sandblaster.

Now, back to the coffee and chocolate...........

And now for a change in our regular programming.....

I recently changed the name of my blog. I found that Rissy had way more Rants than Raves or Recitations, so, I decided to go with something a little more fitting.

My life is full of insanity. My kids drive me insane, the recent change in my family dynamic (IE: the man that lived here, fathered my youngest child and lately drove me most insane, has moved out), my job completely drives me insane what with the shift work, long hours, short staffing, etc. My house renovations which have been happening since June, but really didn't start until August and are no where even close to being complete, has driven me completely mad. Things in the news, those are completely indescribable as to what kind of crazy thoughts they bring to mind. Add all this to the day to day dealings with people that are truly too stupid to live, it is a wonder I am not in rubber room sitting in the corner playing with my toes.

But, in the midst of all of that, I come here. This is where I focus my crazy.....my Focused Insanity. I can write my little rants, talk about things that make me a little nuts.....and somehow, I can leave that insanity here and go back to my life just a little more sane.

Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups

There has been a lot of talk about stem cell research lately thanks to Michael J Fox. I do not profess to be at all knowledgeable about what embryonic stem cells are supposed to do. All I know is what I have read and what I have heard. Frankly, it is all a bit confusing.

There are arguments for both sides. Both sides have celebrity supporters. Both sides think that only they are right and seemingly refuse to hear the other side. There seems to be no way of compromising and finding a common ground that will suit the majority of people, but of course, there is never compromise in politics. I have tried to do a little impromptu research on the subject, only to find that most of what is being said is basically discounting the other sides point of view. I can only comment here on what I am "hearing" in all of the reports.

What I am hearing is that the American government, ie. President Bush, is against using embryos that have been discarded by their owners for research and possible cures for debilitating illnesses such as Parkinsons Disease and Alzheimers, both of which rob the victim of meaningful quality of life, because an embryo is a potential life. As far as I can tell, these embryos really have no hope in hell of ever becoming a life because either they are the products of conception that have been aborted by a woman who did NOT want this life to be realized, or, they are frozen embryos that have been abandoned and have no hope of ever finding a womb to grow in. I also see in the news that President Bush has no problem letting actual lives be snuffed out by war. Now maybe I am crazy, but I am thinking that the families of the soldiers and the civilians who have died as a result of this war are mourning their loved ones, where I doubt very much that anyone is mourning over the embryos or the aborted fetuses that could possibly give hope to many other actual lives.

I have always considered myself a pro-life supporter. Though, having faced a dilemma several years ago, I chose to end a pregnancy early when there was no hope for a viable life. I even had the blessing of the Roman Catholic church that I attended. Had it been an option for me, I would have gladly signed his body over for research. I do not believe that it would be appropriate to pay women for their aborted fetuses or their discarded frozen embryos, but I do feel that if one were to choose to donate them for the purpose of embryonic stem cell research, it should be an option. I also realize that another facet of this argument is about the financial support for the research from the government. Now, all I can really say about that is that we all know about government waste in so many things. Not to mention the amount of money being spent in Iraq for the purpose of killing ACTUAL lives, lives that will be mourned and missed by someone. Or the amount of dollars spent on health care caring for the individuals with the debilitating diseases that we spoke of earlier. If these fetuses and embryos can be used for something good, they should be, rather than just being incinerated.

I believe in God, I believe God creates all. He created us a free thinkers and of free will. I believe that he intends us to use our intelligence and resources to solve problems. I feel that those that condemn the very things God has created in the name of God himself are hypocrites.

When everything is coming your way, you're in the wrong lane

I have become the mother of a teenager with a Learner's Permit to drive.

It took him eight tries at the test to pass. That did NOT instill a lot of faith in me on his ability behind the wheel of the van. But, behind the wheel of the van he ended up. Driving home from taking the test. That is probably a young man's third or fourth most exciting moment.....I won't discuss the others here, this is a family forum.

He gets in, tells me to do up my seat belt. I do. I am trying not to be nervous....... I want to be "cool" mom who doesn't get all worked up. Not like my own mother who was so nervous driving with me when I was learning, that when I got too close to a car in a parking lot, she smacked my leg, my foot came off the brake and I hit the car. Then she called the police to report the accident.

He does okay......We get home in one piece. He steps on the brakes a little too quickly..... Forgets to shoulder check every time .... Thank goodness we live in such a small town. It was funny, since as we are driving, people I know are waving and pointing......... They know this must be the first time he is driving.

Today, he wants to drive on the highway. Apparently, he wants his mother to die of heart failure as well. He starts out fine. Is hesitant to get up to the speed limit. I tell him he should speed up a bit, as the horse and buggy behind us are preparing to pass. He gets a little braver, get up to speed, but every time we meet a car, I am getting way too good a glimpse of the ditch. I calmly tell him that he does not have to pull over and slow down every time a car meets us. He says he is nervous he is too close to the center line. I tell him I am nervous we are so close to the grass and trees. I teach him how to "keep it between the lines". He is a good student, he listens and applies my advice well. We get to the small city, he even manages to navigate that well.

It is time to drive home. It is now dark. I want so badly to have him say, "Mom, maybe I am not ready to drive on the highway in the dark" No such luck. He now seems to think he is Kyle Petty (I couldn't spell Mario's last name). I don't particularly like driving at night..... My 40yr old eyes do not always work the way I want them to. I didn't want to dash his confidence either, so, I sucked it up. Buckled in the younger children.......Hugged them tight, kissed them and told them I loved them dearly. And off we went. But, before we could hit the highway, I needed a Timmy's Coffee. I tell him...."You will have to drive through the drive-through and do the ordering"........."COOL!! I love this driving thing"....... I guess they have to learn every aspect of driving, right?

We get on the highway..........I remind him of the brights and when and how to dim the headlights. I give him the hint about, "don't look at the oncoming headlights, focus on the white line in the shoulder" I remind him that there are deer and moose around and that it is fall so those poor things are a little restless what with all the men in orange jumpsuits shooting at them. I am nervous as hell, but I am still maintaining "cool mom" status, not getting too aggressive. I feel it is going pretty well. Then he asks me, "Mom, what are you doing?" Um.... just a reflex thing honey......I am trying to push the van back between the lines with my hand on the window frame. He laughs, and asks, "Did you notice it is broken?" Yeah, well, the van is old and things break....."You don't think it was from people riding with you doing the exact same thing?"

If he thinks I am going to buy him a car when he gets an actual license, he is sadly mistaken.