(picture from http://movies.yahoo.com/movie/1808406004/info)

Here is our opinion:

The story line was a bit confusing for our children 11 and 7.  They had many questions afterwards.  This isn't always bad as it provides plenty of teachable moments, but I think maybe there was a little too much that they didn't get or couldn't follow.  Of course they loved the action and cars but I think my older one really wanted to get more out of it then that. 

It was visually impressive, I thought.  I think they spent a lot of money on it and you could tell.  It was exciting and kept your attention.

The overall underlying morals were good.  The main character, Speed, was promised lots of money and career advances but he didn't take it from the begining.  I thought it might be a story about him taking it and then realizing his mistake and coming back but he stuck with his family and what he thought was right from the begining.

Of course with any movie there was language that I think should have been avoided.  The little boy gave someone the finger and there were girls dressed inappropriately.  At one point I felt like my hubby and I were deciding if we were going to stay for the rest but it turned around with a decent story and less language (it seemed).  It would be so nice if people could use their imagination a little and leave all the extra junk out.  Do people really write companies and say "To Whom it May Concern,  I wish there were more curse words in kids movies."?

Overall we thought 3 out of 5 apples.

On that note I have a riddle for you.  What vehicle can you spell the same backward and forward?

Have a "Speedy" Day!

Why is it different for a game but not an "real" person to tell a kid they are fat?

**At the center of the debate is the game's use of the Body Mass Index (BMI) as a means of judging the health of its players. After standing on the game's innovative Balance Board peripheral and entering basic information like height and weight, the game doles out an overall BMI number as well as a label, such as "underweight," "ideal," or in some cases, "fat." While the somewhat callous system is reasonably accurate in determining the BMI of adults, a child's BMI can literally change from day to day.

*** ...use the CDC’s latest BMI growth charts and calculator for the cutoffs for “overweight” and “obesity” in children. Remember, children who are at or above the 85th percentile on the new BMI-based growth charts are considered clinically “at risk for overweight” (or “overweight” by the term popularized in the media). And at the 95th percentile, they become “overweight” (or “obese” in popular terms).

We understand that the quality of our physical health has a great deal to do with the air that we breathe. When there is pollution in the air, it has an adverse affect on our lungs and our overall health. Too much pollution in the air can threaten our lives. Environmentalists have gone to great lengths to help us fight pollution in our physical atmosphere.

What about the air that our souls breathe, the emotional atmosphere? Just as we all share same air, our souls also share the same emotional and spiritual atmosphere. That atmosphere is the God stuff, which connects all of us. Our feelings of joy, sorry, indifference, pain, love, and hate all go into the common air that our souls breathe.

Everyone is not sensitive to the energy around them just as everyone is not sensitive to pollution or secondhand smoke, but many people are. Many people are sensitive to secondhand misery.

Animals are completely in tune with the earth and their environment. Notice how they act when there is an impending earthquake or hurricane or notice how a pet reacts when its owner is sad. Animals are at one with their environment, what happens around them happens to them.

There is an increasing number of souls who are also in tune with their environments, not necessarily their physical environments, but the emotional ones, which they share with every other soul on earth. They are tuned in and reacting to emotions that are not even their own and wondering why these unconnected feelings engulf them.

For a very long time, the greater emotional environment affected comparatively few people. Most were only affected by the emotions emanating from those nearest to them. However, children who grew up in the fifties and sixties grew up during a very critical time in this country. Women particularly mothers were in a state of transformation. Their unrest was repressed for the most part. Mothers who were raised to aspire to nothing more than being a wife and mother were questioning their choices and so their lives.

Not that they did not love their families, but there was a whole new adventure opening up for women, a whole new exciting world was appearing before their eyes but out of their reach. There were many feelings that women were unable to express or even make sense of within themselves.

This undercurrent of emotion jarred the energy in even the best of homes. Children grew up in an atmosphere where there was often as much going on under the surface as there was on the surface as their mothers grappled with the strange new desires that were boiling up from within. Being spiritually connected to mother, children needed to sharpen their antennae. They needed to feel what was happening around them as much as hear and see in order to maintain their sense of security and connection.

Beyond the intimate emotions affecting the mothers, the entire country was experiencing a heightened level of preparedness. The cold was looming all around while air raid shelters were built underground. This state of preparedness necessitated a heightened state of awareness never knowing when and from where the attack would come.

Children during the fifties and early sixties had to hide under their desks for air raid drills. It caused them again to open up their sixth sense in order to keep up with fear of impending doom. Just as children learn to walk and talk, these children learned to sense, to be always aware of what we could not see or hear because the enemy was somewhat invisible.

Thus, children began to have a heightened awareness that their parents did not have. They were affected by a much larger environment than had affected children before. These children grew up during a time when there was more to fear from that which could not be seen than from that which could and so they became tuned in to a higher frequency than their parents. This sense of fear and dissatisfaction having no recognizable source was perceived by the children as being their own when in fact it was much larger. These children drank in the general sadness in their country and simultaneously fed into it as well.

They were born in a time when the earth herself was accelerating her vibration, as the earth accelerates so do we as a part of her. This change in vibration creates a disturbance among the creatures of the earth and the physical properties of the earth herself. So, we have enormous earth changes disasters of great proportions. This causes suffering among the animals and mankind. As the suffering enters the energy field, those who are sensitive become depressed because they are so deeply connected to the energy.

Things have not become better, they have only become worse. The energy coming from the Middle East is one of intense suffering between terrorism, hatred, fear, despair and oppression. Africa is dying and the wails of the slow torturous death of AIDS are felt within all who are connected but especially those who are acutely sensitive.

There is more suffering than joy in the world today; more empty bellies and empty plates than full. The world is in a constant state of mourning and only the sensitive few are aware of it. Sadly, they don't even know why they feel death in the pit of their stomachs and so they seek medication.

We believe that what we don’t see, does not touch us. Well we can only avoid being affected if we don't feel. It is easy to say that it is God’s will. But if it were Gods will we would not be so sad. Joy comes from doing God’s will not depression. This is God’s challenge; it is God’s test of our connection to Spirit. It is Gods will that every creature that He loved enough to give life to, be given a chance to live and be fruitful. He created mankind and gave man the ability to reach across all boundaries and love, and told man to love his brother as himself. We will ease our own suffering by easing the suffering of our brothers. God created the earth and made her bountiful. But her bounty is only enough for all, if all limit their portions to enough. It is God’s will that we be given the choice of more for me, or enough for all.

It is the Universal energy that is clinically depressed; only a growing number of us are too sensitive to be immune to it. This country is suffering from EIDS, emotional immune deficiency syndrome. We cannot stay immune to the emotions that are all around us in the world. The country that we live in is not a place, it is an ideal. The souls born here and the souls drawn here are keenly infused with the ideals on which this country was founded. Those words held in the hands of the statue of liberty are etched in our hearts. We may try to turn our backs on those tired, poor, huddled masses, but we cannot turn our hearts, we were not built the same way as everyone else.

We have a greater privilege being in this country and along with that comes a greater responsibility to the world as a whole because just as it says in the song, we are the world. We here represent the hopes and dreams of every nation on this earth. The hearts of our founding fathers looked to the future of Americans to fulfill the greatness of their dreams of a better world. The founding fathers believed that if they created the Constitution, one day, we would exemplify it as a beacon to the world. This is the only nation in the entire world that was not established on a foundation of what was, but on a foundation of what could and even more, should be. And maybe one day we really will, but if we continue to extend our weapons instead of our hearts, that day may come too late for everyone. Because whether we know it or not, we are all deeply heart sick, and the rampant depression is a symptom of that sickness. We carry within our collective genes a bit of every race, creed, and national origin on this earth. Their cries are our cries. Their hunger is our hunger because in the greatest sense, they are us.

It’s not that things are any more interesting than usual.  Maybe it’s that I’m more interested than usual.  The kids are also making me laugh quite a lot and as I don’t do photos (see previous blog about my prowess with a camera) I do verbal snapshots instead, which means I wander round with a notebook a lot taking cryptic notes about the stupid stuff they do and say.  The problem is that my notes are so cryptic that if I don’t write them up fairly promptly I have no idea what it was that made me nearly die with laughter and valuable ammunition is lost for the time they get boy and girlfriends and I produce all this as evidence before demanding genetic testing and insanity clauses in the pre nup.

So.  I posted earlier about their collecting and disco dancing with pants on their head.  Shortly after that we decided to go out and meet my friend Saj at Borders.  Saj is a serial dumper in our friendship.  She frequently promises to come round and then invariably gets side tracked and doesn’t.  It has been six months and about fifteen promises since we last saw her.  As she was definitely within geographical range today, having a pathological need to shop at the shopping centre near our house we decided it was too good an opportunity to miss and went to capture her and bring her to our king.  To be fair to her, I never go to see her.  This is partly because she lives in Loughborough and I have a pathological hatred of Loughborough based on the fact that it is mostly full of physical education students running around in purple tracksuits and looking healthy.  It is also because she lives a student type life style in a shared house and I have three small children in tow.  The two lifestyles are not really compatible and never the twain shall meet.

Saj shops more than me.  Saj’s hobby is shopping.  Last time she came to my house she was three hours late because she was canoodling with a personal shopper in Monsoon.  She is unable to resist the siren’s call to go to the shops as often as possible.  Saj shops more than a personal shopper.  This is frequently why Saj fails to come and see us.  She is too busy maxing out her credit card.  To be fair to her she is also young, free and single and has a social life that put mine to shame even when I was young free and single myself.  She is often too partied out to come and see us too.  And who can blame her? Who wants to be surrounded by three hyperactive midgets all clamouring for attention when their head is pounding to the rhythm of the previous night’s pumping bass tunes and their handbag is full of sick? Not me, and I’m related to them.

Anyway, she was at Fosse Park shopping today, so we knew we could creep up on her.  We met her in Borders for cake and coffee.  Saj doesn’t usually shop at Borders so it was virgin territory for her, but due to the cake and children who threw themselves at her, squeaking with delight she liked it, although she was quite perturbed that Jason bought a book, particularly because it was 1984.  Saj had to read it for GCSE English and apparently it made her sick with boredom and frightened the pants off her.  Not a winning combination then really.  Still, she should have been glad that we didn’t buy it for her.  And Tilly did a picture of some Jimmy Choos for her, so all was not lost. 

Saj’s fatal weakness in the grand scheme of shopping is the sub category of shoes.  She has been known to offer workshops to men on the subject of how to judge women and relationships by the qualities of the shoes of both parties involved.  It is a serious subject.  She loves shoes, shoes, clothes and makeup, but mainly shoes.  She’s also been known to walk a mile over hot coals for a handbag, but only if it will match her shoes.  She doesn’t envy me any of my pairs of shoes, although she doesn’t know that my mum bought me a pair of Gina shoes the other day, so she might now.  She does envy me my Ghost handbag though.  Unfortunately my Gina shoes don’t go with my Ghost handbag.  I still love my handbag best.  It is the nicest handbag in the world and luckily for me it is so big I could fit a child in it, or enough things so that I can keep a fractious child amused for several days.

When Saj went to America for four months before Oscar was born I had to babysit a hamper full of shoes that she couldn’t be parted from so that nobody would steal them away while she was gone.  She also brought the girls two carrier bags full of killer heels for their dressing up box and deposited several more hampers with other kind people with shoe shaped spare rooms.  It is a serious addiction.  She favours Choos.  I prefer Manolos and Louboutins.  I don’t have either.  Saj does have Choos and killer Armani heels which look like weaponry.  She goes out dancing in these things.  Much kudos to her.  My dancing days involved Doc Martens or Mary Janes.  A lot, lot easier to dance in than four inch spikes.  Just the thought makes me want to cry.

Anyway, what I really wanted to talk about was not the delights of our visit with her, because it was indeed delightful and I did promise her that I would write about her in the blog, hence the preamble.  What I really wanted to write about was what happened with the children both before and after we met up with her.

Before we met her we had to get out the door, and with three kids it’s no easy matter. The shoe cupboard has become a midden and is full of things that nobody wants to wear any more, or which the kids have grown out of, but which we haven’t gotten round to throwing away yet.  It also seems to contain three kites, two water pistols and a broken umbrella which I’m still puzzling over.  The forage through the shoe cupboard takes twenty minutes and a miner’s lamp and that’s before they have to have a wee, find their coats, argue over who is sitting next to who and then realise they need another wee because they’ve spent so long doing all the other things. 

Now, we have to keep all the bathroom doors firmly shut at the moment because Oscar has taken to turning on all the bath taps and dropping various crucial items down the toilet.  Ironically one of his favourite things to drop down the toilet is the wooden toilet from Tallulah’s dolls house.  It’s all very quantum. 

So, Tilly was rummaging in the shoe cupboard while Jason directed her with a torch and an ordnance survey map, I was doing something complicated in the study and keeping half an eye on Oscar, and Tallulah was in the toilet having her wee.  Tallulah came out of the toilet and unbeknownst to me, forgot to shut the door.  I turned to find my purse and Oscar toddled into the toilet and grabbed the first thing he could see which happened to be the toilet brush.  He then appeared round the study door, waving the toilet brush triumphantly and looking extraordinarily happy with himself.  He shouted ‘Teef! Clean!’ and shoved the dripping end of the toilet brush into his mouth before I could a) scream or b) run towards him.  He did not look very impressed with himself after he had lowered the brush, nor when I wrenched it out of his hot little grip.  Tallulah didn’t look very impressed with herself when she got a firm reprimand for not shutting the door, and I was not very impressed with myself for not having Zola Budd’s sprinting abilities.

My one consolation is that the toilet brush is much larger than his mouth and I am hoping that very little of it managed to wend its way into his gaping maw.  As it is I have been forcibly giving him lots of liquids ever since and praying a lot.  I really, really don’t want to spend the next few days trying to explain to the hospital how I let my child get dengue fever from the toilet brush.  As it is I nearly had to take him this evening because he tried to sit in his favourite bucket while he was having a shower and got his little fat bottom wedged in it.  Luckily he fell over because he was top heavy and that shunted it off his bum with a small pop!  Phew!  I spoke to my mum afterwards, and when she had finished picking herself up from the floor laughing she pointed out that it would have come off easily if I’d drilled a hole in the bottom of the  bucket to relieve the pressure.  A useful tip for the future no doubt.  She sounded very knowledgeable about it, so I presume that either me or my brother has been this way before.

After we got back from our trip out the girls were playing upstairs and Tilly came running to see me, trailed by Tallulah.  Tilly was in one of those breathlessly expectant states of excitement which meant that she had either discovered how to turn lead into gold or had found something which she thought was really going to get her sister into trouble.  The lead thing turned out to be a red herring and it was just the usual.  Tallulah is an avid collector of tea sets.  If you ever ask her what she wants for birthdays or Christmases a tea set will be somewhere on the list.  She has several.  One of her nicest ones is a really beautiful carved wooden one that my friend Rachel bought her. It comes complete with wooden tea bags on strings, lumps of wooden sugar and wooden cake.  It’s excellent.

As exhibit A for the prosecution Tilly had one of the tea cups in her hand.  She showed it to me wide eyed and bushy tailed, positively quivering for the kill.  In the bottom of the cup, in fact, half way up the sides of the cup was what looked like melted chocolate.  I enquired further.  It turns out that it was melted chocolate.  When I asked how come it was melted and how come it was in the bedroom, where they are not allowed to have any food of any kind, particularly not quantities of melted chocolate, it turned out that Tallulah had been smuggling portions of her sweetie time upstairs in her cheeks like a hamster.  Once it was sufficiently melted she was drooling it into her tea cups so that she could pretend it was coffee and play proper tea parties.  Yum yum.

I was a) disgusted, b) impressed at her ingenuity (we have discussed before how I find it much harder to get annoyed about naughty things which show some creative flair) and c) splitting my sides with laughter.  I tried to be cross, but unfortunately me falling about all over the floor and holding my sides put paid to that trip to the naughty step and I had to make her vow never to do it again before sending them both packing.  Tilly was quite disappointed that fireworks hadn’t erupted, but was forced into laughing along with everyone else, bless her scheming, black little heart.  We’ve scrubbed the cup, raided the giant tea set mountain to make sure there is no more evidence of chocolate based drool products and vowed never to speak of it again, except to you obviously….

holding onto the things you love,

the things you are,

 the things you never want to lose. 

 ~From the television show

The Wonder Years

What makes memories? Have you thought about this lately? Looking back over the last year how many memories stick out in your mind as awesome. I have something I would like to share with you today regarding memories.

Today I had the privilege to accompany my daughter’s third grade class on a field trip. It was to a sanctuary where for the last 30 years students have been going to learn about wild and plant life starting from first grade through sixth grade. The third grade is probably the most exciting as they are allowed into the water with boots and nets to search for all the creatures that live in the Fox River. Parents were grouped into three groups and each had a station with mine being in the water. We parents had to find the first specimens for the children to look through the microscope. It was great fun, but even more was working with the children helping them fight the strong current in search of the live that lives within the waters. Sarah and I had great fun but more importantly we made a wonderful memory.

We talked about it later and I told her to store this memory as we had a perfect day, from the beautiful warm sunny spring day to having the opportunity to spend time together with her class.

I think the key is sometimes we need to remind each other to remember this day and store it as a memory; this will help us to remember what a special day it was.

For today make a new memory with someone you care about and at the end of the day discuss it and make a decision together this was a special memory we will always share.

Susie Austin

Location: Parc Le Ber, Map. If it is raining some activities will take place inside the YMCA at 255 avenue Ash.
Date and Time: Monday May 19th, 1 PM to 7 PM
Activities:
1 PM to 5 PM: arts & crafts, clowns and face painting, sports, inflatable games and much more
5 PM to 6 PM: community dinner
6 PM to 7 PM: Karaoke competition

Now back to this week, these photos are from the photo shoot I did this morning, for one of those mothers. Being the baby of her family growing up, she wanted to be sure her own baby had the same amount of photos as his big sister. We decided the earlier in the day the shoot was, the better, because having two young nappers, it is hard to coordinate happy moods later in the day. Since my favorite time of day, the late afternoon, was out of the question I was worried, because to get good sunlight in the morning, you have to start really early, and there was no way any of us wanted to think about photos before 7 am, so we decided on 7:30.... which for those of you who know me, that's still very early.

But I managed to get there, with even enough time to look around for a good outdoor spot... which happened to be the dirt bike course near their house. So we played in the shade there for awhile, and then we came home and played downstairs for a bit.... and right before I left I decided, just one more... just one more spot.... and so we all went back to bed.

And as a kid, there is nothing better than cuddling with your parents in their big comfy bed... so it is not surprising that these are a few of my favorite photos of the day.... although it was really hard to choose.

While I'm not a big support group junkie, a lot of the stories and people's struggles touched a LOT of the things I'm going through and things that existed unhealthily in our marriage for so long. I'm glad I went. It was definitely refreshing to see other people going through very similar life struggles and it brought levity to the situation....I'M NOT ALONE IN THIS. :-)

Family

Nothing replaces family. A couple of my cousins are coming over shortly that I'm really close to. I had let them know what's going on with me adn this situation and they dropped everything to come over and see me and hear me and support me through it. It's nice to have extended family that have been through their own shit and are there for you no matter what you go through. I feel truly blessed and can't wait to see them. My grandparents will probably stop by tomorrow as well to discuss it. I'm curious to get their perspective as they both have been through a lot, remarried, had a bunch of kids, etc. I have a lot of faith and respect in my elders. They know our family, they created our family, and have so much profound information to offer the situation.

New Relationship

I'm now working on my new relationship with the wife...one that is about the kids and individual happiness. Our communication is now clear, on the same page with priorities, etc. and very amicable. We have our first "business meeting" to discuss the plans moving forward, the logistics, the finances, etc.

One day at a time......whew.....

Those are the sounds that kept coming out of my bathroom just now until I finally and dutifully walked in, peered down into the toilet, and commented approvingly to my 3-year-old.  It seems that poop is now all too often the topic of conversation in our house, even dinner conversation.  My children are pretty casual about poop too.  That became apparent to me a while ago when I changed my child's dirty diaper and he asked, "Is it a good one?"  He must have learned talk like that from his father.  I have become desensitized to such things, but if you have not then now is the time to STOP READING. 

I am amazed at all the different kinds of nastiness I have had to touch with my hands since I have had children.  Snot, spit, throw-up, pee and poop... all over them, all over me, and unfortunately sometimes all over the couch  (you may not want to wear your best pants when you come over).  I thanked God that I had hardwood floors when my firstborn Thomas had rotavirus and it affected both ends.  But I didn't know true grossness until my youngest, Percy, came along.  He has created some doozies.  Like the time he managed to get off his pants, take off his diaper, and then urinate and have a loose bowel movement on the floor... and proceeded to play in it.  Thankfully he missed the carpet, but not his brother's cardboard Thomas the Tank Engine puzzle.  I had to throw it away, and it left his big brother deeply upset.  He talked about it for months, poor guy, and would walk around muttering to himself, "No, you can't play with the Thomas puzzle, Percy pooped on it."

Percy also likes to go digging for gold in his diaper, and if I don't get to him fast enough he will retrieve nuggets and then leave them on the floor.  More than once big brother Thomas has picked up some mysterious object and walked up to me asking, "What is this?"  

I once overheard the following conversation between my oldest and his Daddy (in italics).  "Oh no."    "What?"    "There's poop on the carpet."     "EEEEEWWWW!  I don't want to play in THAT!!!!"

I recently found a trail of some of the offending objects, and followed it all the way to my youngest son who had it smeared on his feet and was walking all over my house.  I am a germophobe so this sent me into a huge tizzy, not knowing what he had walked on with those poop feet.  I could not get my house clean enough after that.  I wanted to sanitize EVERYTHING in case it had been touched by the offending poop.  Another time he managed to mash some onto the wheel of his ride-on toy and was ramming the toy into my furniture.  Over.  And over.  And over...

Grossed out yet?  Oh but it gets better!  The worst habit that Percy has is fishing in the toilet.  We have to leave the door shut or he will make a huge mess.  I once walked in to the bathroom and realized with horror the following:  the door had been left open... and Percy had played in the toilet... and the toilet had not been flushed... and Percy had played with the pee-pee toilet paper... and there was wet toilet paper all over my bathroom... and in my hallway... and IN PERCY'S MOUTH!! 

He eats some gross stuff, that boy.  I have caught him more than once getting wet diapers out of the trash can and sucking on them.  For real.    *pause*   You know what, I think I am just going to stop here.  I am grossing myself out.  And I have the overwhelming urge to go give Percy a bath and brush his teeth.

              c.   Convention or custom arising from long practice. 

When asked, "If you don't want to outlaw it, then what's so wrong with the California ruling?", my short answer is Precedent (see the definition above). Now, here is my long-ish answer:

As a native New Yorker, no longer living in New York, I am all too familiar with "racial tension"; in particular, the racial tension that arises as a result of cops shooting or otherwise harming black men. Another one of these incidents occurred a few years ago, and just last month, a ruling was made in the case brought against three New York police officers. It wasn't in favor of the plaintiff. You can read more about this matter here and here.

If only the plaintiff had given me a call before filing the suit and going through all the motions. I could have told them, in a very nice way, that the cops wouldn't be convicted and sent off to the slammer. I could have told them that if the judge were to rule in their favor, it would set a bad precedent. Why? Well, it's not like the three men who were shot by the cops were upstanding citizens. Nor was their behavior at the time of the incident upstanding. In fact, they tried to run a cop over with their vehicle, and they were drunk on booze (preparing to drive drunk). Their actions, their lifestyle, their choices were dangerous-- not only to themselves, not only to law enforcement, but to society. Therefore, if  Justice Cooperman were to find the detectives guilty of manslaughter or any of the other charges, he understood well what that ruling would lead to: other cases being measured-up against the one he presided over. He understood that people would believe that you can do whatever you want--even break the law or threaten people's lives-- and it's ok. Justice Cooperman simply could not set such a precedent. And thank God he did not.

Similarly, in the matter of homosexual marriage:

These marriage rulings which are becoming hot-button issues and sweeping into local and state jurisdictions, set bad precedent. Again, it is the redefining of age-old establishments (marriage is between one man and one woman). It is the legislating by a handful, for the minority, not the majority. In this democracy, take a poll: most people aren't homosexual, bisexual, transgender or any other deviant orientation. And most people in the US don't think it is normal, let alone to be given the same so-called rights as what has been the norm for eons.

Further, where will this end? Or, shall I ask, Where will this lead?

The fact is that homosexuality is not the norm. So, let's take another life-choice that isn't the norm within this society and most others:

• Bigamy/Polygamy/Pedophilia: Why was a West Texas ranch raided some weeks ago? Because the pratice of one man having multiple wives, is not the norm. The practice of having sexual relations with multiple children is not the norm. Not only is it not the norm, but if you are married to one woman, and then go somewhere else and marry another, one of those marriages won't be recognized, to say the least. Further, it is a crime to engage in sexual acts with a child, if one is an adult. That is why we have detectives patroling the web trying to nab these perverts, and others who distribute child pronography. And so I ask: Why are we doing this? Why not legislate  to legalize pedophilia, child pornography, and bigamy? Why not? These perverse perpetrators feel as if they love little children. They feel as though there is nothing wrong with their affections. These people are not the norm and most people recognize that. But to heck with the obvious: let's make laws that give them the right to redefine age-old, widely accepted and practiced establishments. And then let's go a step further, and promote pedophilia. Homosexuality, pedophilia, and other deviant life-choices are not the norm, nor are they accepted as such by most.  Legalizing homosexual marriage is the first step of many toward giving a stamp of approval to other life choices that pose a harm to the most vulnerable within society.

 Pick a life-choice, any life choice! Bestiality. Nudism. Fetishism. Transgenderism. According to these same-sex marriage rulings, a precednt is being set for the aforementioned to become legally established as being no different from the norm  (that being heterosexuality). Apparently, all you need is enough cash and power to form a PAC/lobbying group and presto! Mission accomplished.

Finally, please understand: When I have homosexual couples talk to me about their "wives" and "husbands", I don't at all feel threatened, for lack of a better term. I don't start to think, "Oh, great. Now you have what I have." Not at all, because two men and two women together do not have what my husband and I have, nor can they ever. This is the irony of the whole matter. Homosexualists are fighting to have what heterosexuals have. Why? I mean, let's face it: Jim and Bob are nothing like Jim and Lynda. So, why not just embrace being Jim and Bob, and be Jim and Bob till death. Embrace the things Jim and Bob can do and accept what Jim and Bob cannot do. For example, Jim and Bob cannot, under any circumstance, naturally make babies. Yet, within Jim and Bob is this desire to care for children as if they were their own, naturally. You know, just like heterosexuals accomplish naturally. So, in the end, while the homosexual agenda rails against those who are not locking arms in their efforts for "equality", they must eventually turn to the enemy to fulfill what they cannot do naturally.   

Again, you can rejoice over the fact that a state calls you married, but that doesn't change reality: you are not married in the genuine (unchanged) sense of the word. That is why it breaks my heart to see homosexual couples cheering and giddy over the California ruling, for example.  If they only knew what their joy will turn into . . .

And one more thing that is constantly mentioned: "Why do you care what I do in my bedroom?"

This is a valid question, the only problem is the homosexual agenda has taken their bedroom ranglings and turned them into so much more. The homosexual agenda wants me to think and wants others to think, that I am disgusted by what happens between the sheets. They want to make believe that this is the real problem that I and others have with the homosexual agenda. Can I tell you something? I can stomach the sexual activity between two men and two women. What I cannot stomach, and will not cower to, is the indoctrination, socialization and promotion (and yes, recruitment) of what is documented dangerous (and not normal) choices, by a smidgen percent of society. So, if the homosexual agenda left it in the bedroom, I could deal with that. But don't wrap your affections and orientation in a not-so-pretty & enormous package and label it, "Tolerance" or "Equality" or "Fairness" or even worse, "Civil Rights." Just call it what it is and I might "respect" your plight more. My approach might change . . .

Homosexual marriage sets a bad, dangerous precedent. This is just one main reason why I am against such decisions.

[Click here to read a dialogue between a reader with an opposing view in favor of homosexual "rights"; scroll down to the comments section of the post.]

Feel free to share. Thanks for reading.

Brian

Looking for a quick way of teaching your kids Islamic alphabets? Then look no further than the nasheed by brother Yusuf Islam called, A is for Allah.

 This is one of the surest ways of getting your kids' attention, arousing their interest, and informing them about their religion.

Breastmilk is perfect for your baby. Nothing compares to it. It strengthens your baby's natural defences and reduces the risk of infection. How time flies by. If you decide to move on from breastfeeding, Aptamil follow-on contains IMMUNOFORTIS to help support some of your baby's natural defences. Aptamil follow-on. Helping support your baby.

Ok, rewind, run that one by me again. If you decide to move on from breastfeeding... If? IF?! Surely moving on from breastfeeding is something that a person absolutely definitely SHOULD do, otherwise you'll end up like this freaky woman with her 'way too fucking old to still be sucking their mother's tit' kids.

Oh dear.

Many years ago, I decided against a career in surgery because I didn't want the lifestyle.  I had surgeons in my family and I knew that their home lives were stressed and unfulfilling as the job sucked the life out of their lifestyle.   When I joined my current practice, one of the reasons I did so was that they were all family men.

It's one thing to be working from dawn til, well, dawn again for every last penny.  It's another thing altogether to say that money isn't a motivating factor and that you value your non-work life over the "go, go, go" that can happen easily in a field where everyone wants a piece of you all the time. 

Weekends though, tend to be busy for all doctors on call.  There is no let up because it's the weekend.  Today, however, turned out to be a day that luckily has gone as planned.   When I first started in practice, one of my partners told me to never make plans on the weekend as though you'd have time to do more than just work.   In other words, that guy who has tickets for the football game at 1 o'clock and is scurrying to finish his work and cursing his beeper with each ring...is bound to always be miserable.  Just consider it another day.

I have always stuck to that advice and for the most part, I have stayed sane.   The last two years, however, I will say that coaching Little League was a goal of mine despite my busy schedule and I did much like I did today. 

I woke up and came into work at 5:30 am.  I did the majority of the work and took care of the emergencies.  At 12:30, I did my best Clark Kent in a phonebooth impersonation and changed to some athletic wear and headed out to the baseball field which is minutes away.    I coached for two hours.  We won the game.  My son made a good play at a pivotal time. 

The beeper went off.   Another consult.  Back to work.  He and his teammates were smiling and life was good.  I hope that when I am long gone and he's an old man, he'll remember and appreciate his dad getting up and running around like a mad man just so I could say that I was there.  When my son ran onto the field and looked back...he saw me there and it was time to play ball.

Many of those who are listed among the dead are the children that were buried in the rubble of their schools.

For the parents that survive their children their grief may make restarting their live that much harder as they set forth with added guilt and regret that they only had one child.

"She died before becoming even a young adult," said Bi, an intense, wiry chemical plant worker, standing beside the grave of 13-year-old Yuexing - one of dozens sprinkled amid fields of ripened spring wheat and newly planted rice. "She never really knew what life was like."

As common policy in many schools all but the main doors were locked leaving only one exit for children to attempt to escape from.

In China the quake toppled almost 6,900 classrooms. The shoddy construction highlighted that the schools were woefully underfunded in small towns.

Launched in the late 1970's China imposed a one child only law limiting family sizes. This policy was meant to enable China to be able to give their children a better education and medical care. Because of the law there have been forced abortions, sterilizations and an imbalanced sex ratio with families aborting girls in favor of having a son.

In some rural areas the policy has been relaxed if the first child born is a girl allowing for an additional birth. That though is not the case in much of the region hit by Monday's earthquake.

Surviving parents can be expected to feel intense guilt that they lived on while their child died. They can feel that they failed their role as parents by not protecting their young. Often these parents will look back and regret their interaction with their children, dwelling on negatives (thinking they were too stern, did not show them sufficient love or did not interact with them enough) instead of positives.

Hopefully China will be able to provide grief counselling for these parents after the initial recovery effort has eased.

While I was out eating with my friends yesterday, a party of 14 people - 6 of them kids - sat next to our table.  The waiter had gone around and taken food orders from 12 of the people, and was waiting on the remaining two to come back from the bathroom - an old man, and a younger kid, who looked to be about 3 or 4 years old.

Upon returning from the bathroom, the old man and the young kid sat down in their seats.  The old man proceeds to tell the waiter that he'd like... well, something - I couldn't really hear him too well, but he ordered his food, and the waiter proceeded to ask the young kid what he wanted to eat.

The kid started stuttering: "I want the... the fries and... fries... I want the fries, and..."

The old man, who must have thought the kid hadn't fully looked at the kids' menu, picked it up and started reading the choices off to him:

"Let's see: they have pizza and fries, kids' steak and fries, buttered noodles..."

The kid interupts the old man:

"Grand-daaaad! I was going to say I wanted the fries and the chicken fingers!"

The old man looks up at the waiter:

"He'll have the chicken fingers and fries, then."

As the waiter is writing down the order, the younger kid looks up to his grandfather, and - in the most loving way possible - says to him:

"You'd better watch it, old man - I'll punch you and knock those glasses off your face!!"

OMG, you've GOT to be kidding me!!

I nearly burst out laughing at my table, but didn't want the party to overhear me.  At the same time, though, I thought to myself...

"Is anybody going to disipline this kid for SAYING that in the first place?!?"

Kids need to be put in their place when they talk to an adult in a way that is out of manner, and it sucks when parents allow their kids to treat older people any way they see fit.  What sucks even worse, though, is that kids do this from time to time to see how close to the line they can edge without getting in trouble for it.

The fact that this kid was able to say this and not be repremanded by ANYONE speaks VOLUMES about what he's able to get away with at home.  But I understand - it must be tiring for a parent to have to disipline a child over and over for the constantly stupid things they do.

Lucky for me, I won't have to DEAL with it because I'm NEVER having kids!

-A.P. Taylor

Send your "Why I'm NEVER Having Kids" stories to neverhavingkids@gmail.com.

For some reason there exists today a resistance towards openly discussing human sexuality and sexual and reproductive health in the world. Coming from a European country myself, and living in the United States since 1996, I am frequently stunned to see how taboo the subject is. The religious fanatics around the country have made sex a shameful subject. Yet, at the same time, there's hardly a product advertised on tv without some half-naked woman gazing at you in an alluring way. It's made all the more funny when she's selling monistat or something. Nothing sexy about a yeast infection!!!

What are the prequisitions in deciding when a child should be born? Personally, I would only bring a child in this would when I am sure that I am ready to be a parent. There are several indications to signal when I am ready. First, I must be financially independent. I would be able to provide myself with the basic needs and that of the child's. I would have extras for other stuffs as need and do not have to live paycheck by paycheck. Second, I would be emotionally ready to handle the present of a child and the responsibilities of being a parent. Third, I am ready to put the child as first priority. It means that the child will be a big part of my life and I am ready to give my unconditional love and self. I will then devote extra amount time and effort to ensure that the child will be happy and loved.

It seems like a terrible idea to be a trial and error sort of parent. I understand one learns along the way. However, are there room for mistakes? Yes, one can raise the first kid and learn through experiences. By doing so, the second child would be easier to manage since experiences has been acquired through the first child. It might seem reasonable but it is fair to the first child. Being the first child doesn't default him as an experimenting subject. He deserves as much love, devote, and care as the second child. This might end up being the case even if parents aren't intentional make it so. However, I do think parents should not gamble with unnecessary risks for the sake of learning about parenting.

Practical knowledge might not be required for one to be parents but theoretical knowledge should. I strong believe in parental education. I think it is essential for anyone wanting to be parents to enroll in a parental courses. The courses would not teach future parents the nuts and bolts of parenting. They serve as a breeding ground for knowledge and an encouraging point for future parents to seek knowledge and education to be better parents. The theoretical knowledge will no doubt create a more useful and enhance experiences and rationale of practical knowledge.

Calling parenting a job would undermine its important. It is definitely more than a job. I can quit a job and start another one to fulfill my personal and professional satisfaction. I, however, can’t quit my kid and have another one because I am unhappy with the first one. It doesn't work that way. A child is a child. Doesn't matter how he disappoints me, he is still my kid. Even if he turns out to be a serious killer, I would love him regardless. I might not support his actions or agree with his moral judgments. I might even turn him in to the police and yet he is still my child. Also, equating parenting with a job seems to devalue the role of parenting. A kid is a living human being whose well being and future are governed and influenced by the parents. A parent most likely is a child's role model.

I consider parenthood to be the greatest role that I would ever encompass. Kudos to all parents out there who give their best of love and devotion to their kids.