Look! I made a rhyme.
*I have to say that I wrote this post a couple days ago and then when I was ready to post my Internet connection was LOST. I sat there looking at the blank screen and felt so alone . . . actually, it gave me a great reason to catch up on all my DVRd shows and my reading!
Anyway, a lot has happened in the world of politics (elections, specifically) since I first wrote this--Fred Thompson has risen from the "dead." I didn't catch the debates, but did catch the pundits talking about it. In summary--There is no clear front runner. Wow, the media is genius! Finally, let's not hold the elections IN the media--maybe they have now learned that predicting our new president this early is like predicting the winning numbers of a mega million lottery.
OK, here's the start of the post I wrote a couple days ago . . .
Let's get Hillary's tears out of the way first. Did you hear? Apparently, the woman, Marianne Pernold, who asked Hillary the question that prompted the tearful moment, the moment that may have very well won her the NH primary, didn't vote for Hillary--she voted for Obama. Want to know why? I can't help to think that once again the media jumped the gun on this one. Right after Hillary's tearful comment she went right back to "the Hillary we all know" and began her assault on Obama. Pernold was so turned off by Hillary's tone and rhetoric and impressed to tears with Obama that she decided to vote for him instead. Had everyone been able to see the few seconds after the tears then this vote might have turned out differently. I guess this is why we have to stick with the facts. What are their positions? What are their track records (not just in politics, but in life)? What are the foundations of their character? The tears, the savvy speeches, the cutesy jokes, the bashing, the sucking up will tell us very little as it is all just an illusion. I have to do this, but "Just the facts, ma'am." Sorry for the Dragnet line, but I couldn't help it.
Can't wait for next Tuesday!
*Click here to learn more about Hillary's tears and the woman who voted for Obama.
My baby brother and his wife just had their first baby--Baby L, I'll call her. She was born with a mass or curly dark hair (which is so odd because J was born looking like a little blond, wrinkly monkey--who at times resembled Donald Trump--yikes!), 7 lbs, and 20 inches. She was well done (mine was a month early). Baby L and J are cousins--the first ones! They are only five months apart (almost to the day--missed it by five minutes). New baby--woo hoo. My little bro has no idea what he is in for--and a girl to boot!
I explained the sleepless nights. The constant smell of sour milk. The drool that seems never ending and at times stretches for so long you'd swear there was rubber in it. The diapers . . . oh the diapers. He didn't believe me when I told him how many diapers we went through (I think it was close to 100--though I could be exaggerating). Hee Hee!!! (rubs hands together gleefully) And if you read my last post--wait until she becomes bipolar! In all truth, as we all know, you just can't imagine it all until it happens to you. During the last phone conversation he was nearly incoherent. "I want to sleep so bad," he moaned. (I laughed a little inside--I can't lie). "I wish it were 198 . . .when I was little. I'd climb into my bunk bed, under my rainbow sheets and go to sleep." Awwww. "Then, I'd wake up and watch cartoons." Bingo! "Well," I replied, "You'll get to do that, at least, eventually . . . if you're awake enough." He responded with another moan, or maybe it was a groan, and then a thump . . . not really, but I swear I thought he was going to doze off right there on the phone. One day down and about 6575 days to go (yes, I did calculate that)!!!
All that aside, there is something more important I need to talk about. I'd give my left arm to have my little brother back as that little baby he once was. I miss him. I miss his cheeks, his smile, his hair, his toes. I miss him. I was seven years old when he was born. I had no idea what a sweet little baby he was. When my two sisters came along, I still had no idea. Yet today, as I hold little J in my arms, I'd give anything to just have those moments back. I just want one more day to . . .
play airplane with them high on my feet, flying through the air.
tickle their toes, their sides, and blow on their bellies
run after them and swoop them in my arms
carry "Little Bro" around on my back until I could barely stand
watch them as they slept peacefully in their beds (me, putting a hand on their bellies to make sure they were still breathing--I was a worrier--as was my little sis)
cuddle up to "Angel Baby" (little sis) as she went down for a nap
show "Sugar Baby" (baby sis) around the house after my mom had just given birth to her (home birth--I was there!)
brush and put up their hair
scrub them in the tub
sing them songs
act like a goof ball and get them to do the same
play school with them--I was always the teacher
kiss them everywhere when they were just J's age
hug them . . . and now, I wouldn't ever let go . . .
I know I am "just" their sister, but I can't help but wish to have those moments back. Those little babies . . . Although it is sad to think that those days are gone, they gave me one of the greatest gifts I could ever receive. I thank them for teaching me how to appreciate every single moment with J, from his cries and tears to his smiles and giggles. I will take each moment and breath it in and hold it in my memory. I will soak in his babbles, his attempts to roll over, the way he waves his arms, the smile that creeps across his face when he sees me coming. I won't let a moment pass me by. And most of all, I will hug and kiss him until I can't stand it anymore because I know it won't last . . . Thank you Sugar Baby, Angel Baby, and Little Bro. You all mean everything to me and I can't imagine a life without you. I miss your "little-ness," but am so thankful to have you in my life today.
Sorry for the sappy post. I'm hormonal.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Look! I made a rhyme.