Not Amused

I am with Luke and Amaya today at the local amusement park -- Lagoon. I swear to God people morph into hicks the second they walk through the gates. I don't see these types of people anywhere else, except maybe the fair. It makes me wonder how I appear to others while I am visiting this vat of humanity. Has my shirt gotten tighter? My pants, shorter? My hair, bigger? I do feel like I am covered in some sort of film, but that could be the snow cones the kids have insisted on having, but that they don't want to hold.

I really wish I could show you some of the sights I am seeing. I mean, the parenting moments alone are priceless. TWICE I have heard someone say "I will give you something to cry about." Unfortunately, I forgot my camera.

Of course, my lack of photographic equipment has afforded me the opportunity to play some of my favorite games. The first, of course, is "Your Team." You play it by pointing out the people who are on other people's teams. For instance, teens making out in inappropriate places are all over the park, and they are all on Tara's team. Kids pouting, while wearing black, and cursing their parents for making them come on a family outing are all on Ryan's team -- especially if they are carrying a book. Oh, and anyone who has spilled on their shirts in an overly conspicuous way is wearing a "Team Libby" jersey.

My other favorite game is "Rocker Couple or Lesbian Couple." This one takes more skill. You come up behind a couple, preferably mulleted (easy to find at any amusement park) and make your guess. I would say I am right 60 percent of the time. Oh, and before you scoff, try playing. Like whack-a-mole, it is harder than you think. Eventually I am hoping to find a Rocker Lesbian Couple, and then I will die happy.

Oh, and I have developed a new game today -- "Which One is the Mom." You see, here in Utah, people breed young, which means there are lots of multi-generational clans. So, what I do is a pick a family pack with one or more strollers, and try to pick the Moms. Once again, not as easy as it looks. You know what, though? Seeing an obvious mother and daughter pair, each with their own baby, made it all worth while...

All I can hope is that eventually I get out of here, hopefully with my dignity, and bank account, in tact. That second one might be more difficult, since I am with two children, and have a "sucker" sign on my forehead.

Okay, gotta go on the log flume. Yes, I have typed this entire post while waiting in line.

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How Adoption Works*

Our nieces and nephews are all very aware of the fact we are planning to adopt a baby, and all of them are very excited about the idea of a new cousin. They are even more excited though, because this baby is not coming "the old fashioned" way. They have had pregnant aunts, and Moms before, so they know how that works, but adoption is a whole new ball game, with a whole new set of expectations, and misconceptions.

Luke, for instance, seems to think that adoption is a sort of baby pizza delivery service -- you tell them exactly what they want and they bring it to your door. He has already told me several times that he would prefer a boy, because he has "way too many girl cousins." He also would like a baby that doesn't cry, and that likes to be outside, preferably to swim. Shaylee is also a proponent of the pizza delivery adoption model, but, of course, she wants the exact opposite of what Luke wants. She wants a girl baby, which will not mind being lugged around and dressed in doll clothes. I mean, she hasn't specifically said the doll clothes thing, but I can see it in her crafty little face. Also, I've seen her try to dress her cat.

Amaya looks at adoption as more of a Home Depot. She thinks that somewhere in the Salt Lake valley there is a large warehouse where all the babies are kept, and we just need to go pick one up. I explained to her that, no, that is not quite how it works, and that we need to wait for a birthmother to pick us, and for a baby to be born. It was then that she suggested we go for an older child, since she had seen commericals for those on TV. I explained that even for an older child we would have to wait, since a lot of paperwork would need to be done. She asked how long the paperwork would take. I told her at least two weeks. "Might as well wait for a baby," she said.

I really don't know how the kids will react when the baby actually gets here. I mean, I know they will be excited, but I also know it will be a big adjustment for them. First of all, their new cousin will most likely be African American, so there will be no cooing over how he/she looks like all of them. Then, there will be the fact that this baby will have another Mom. I know there will be questions about that. After all, they all live with their Moms, why doesn't our baby live with his/hers? I like to think that answering their questions now will help us prepare for when we have to answer the questions of our child later. I am hoping that we can do it with a mix of love, honesty and humor.

It would be cool though if they baby was delivered in 30 minutes or less and came with a side of crazy bread. I love that stuff.

*Not really.

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One Last Lie

My young niece and nephew are becoming liars. They don't do it mean spiritedly, most of the time they are just trying to make a story better, or win an argument they otherwise would lose. For instance, the other day the two of them were talking about places they had been. My niece Amaya said she had been to Mexico. My nephew, Luke, not to be outdone, said he had been to Australia. Now, granted, I do not spend every minute of the day with Luke, but I spend enough time that I would have noticed if he had gone to Australia. I made him admit he was telling a lie, and we had a short exchange about telling the truth. He said he understood, and said he was just being "silly." I wish I could have a similar conversation with George W. Bush.

This morning the President held his final (woo hoo) press conference. He admitted that putting up a banner saying “Mission Accomplished” just one hundred days into the Iraq war probably sent the “wrong message.” He talked about how disappointed he was there weren’t any actual weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. He joked with the White House press corps about how they “misunderestimated” him. And then he pissed me off by trying to rewrite history one last time.

You see, Mr. Bush couldn’t avoid questions about the economy, it being in he crapper and all, so he tried to use the old “it was broken when I got here” line to avoid accepting any blame. He claimed that while he may be leaving President-elect Obama with a country in a recession, he inherited a country in a recession from President Clinton, and just did the best he could. At that point I screamed at my television “just because you say it doesn’t mean it’s true!”

Even the bunny knows he is full of shit...

I don’t think I have to explain to you that there was no recession when Clinton left office. If you were alive, over the age of eight and not in a coma in the year 2000, you already know that. In fact, things were going so well that one of President Bush’s first acts was to cut taxes, and give a refund. I remember getting my check – I called it my “booby prize.” But now President Bush wants to pretend that never happened, and that the checks were actually some kind of early economic stimulus. But they weren’t, and we all know it.

I really wanted someone in the press corps to stand up and call the President on this last bit of revisionism he was trying to spread. They didn’t though, and all afternoon that sound bite has been played again and again, with no commentary on its lack of truth. That’s probably why the President thinks, and has thought, he could get away with it. He says it, no one calls him on it, and so it must be true.

I’m just Luke will come of age after President Bush is out of office. Otherwise we would never hear the end of stories about his Australian adventures.

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Christmas Rodents

My niece Amaya wants a gerbil. No, wait. She doesn't just want one, she is obsessed with having one, in that strange, manic ways only 8-year old girls can be. Oh, and don't say she wants a hamster, or a guinea pig -- that will only get you a withering look that implies you have no idea about the superiority or gerbils in the rodent world.

Amaya's obsession began on Tuesday, when she wandered into a classroom at Ryan's school and found it had several cages containing various vermin. I told Ryan about it, but he insists it does not mean the school needs to be fumigated, and is, in fact, the best way to teach sixth graders exponential math. Amaya instantly fell in love with the gerbils, and decided there would be nothing better than having one of her own. Since that time any adult that has come in contact with her has heard about nothing else.

It was the first thing she mentioned to me when she got into the car after school yesterday. After telling me that school was fine and that she had learned"nothing" (quite disturbing considering the tuition cost), she asked if I had ten dollars. I said yes, and she informed me that money would be best spent on a gerbil. I told her I didn't need a gerbil, because Ryan and I were having chicken for dinner. That is when she announced her plan. "The gerbil would be for me, " she said, "it would live in my room in a cage that Mr. Waters said I could have. I would feed it, and clean it's cage, and it could sit on my shoulder and climb on my head. Oh, and don't worry about the poop. gerbils have dry poop, but hamsters have wet poop." I was really glad she clarified the poop part.

The inside of Amaya's head.

Because I really like Amaya's Mom, and don't want her plotting my death, I told Amaya I didn't think it would be a good idea to go get a gerbil. She instantly went to plan B -- wanting to call her Mom every five minutes to discuss the gerbil situation. I managed to stave her off, but there was no stopping the gerbil assault when Andrea arrived to pick Amaya up. Then there was no stopping it. After five minutes I had heard the word "gerbil" at least 30 times, and the word "responsible" at least ten. Finally, Andrea sent Amaya off to change her clothes -- and then she gave me the scoop. "I keep telling her she has to ask Santa," Andrea said, "but she keeps insisting that Santa can't bring it because it's livestock." She hung her head, defeated by an 8-year old genius.

There is no doubt in my mind that Amaya will be getting a gerbil. She might even be getting three. After all, she has her Mom, her Dad, and me. Oh, and Santa, of course. However, he might mess up and get her a hamster. After all, it's a busy time of year, and this is a last minute request. I wouldn't want to be him after Amaya opens it though. He will totally be on her shit list.

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