Last night as my husband and I watched the acceptance speech given by now President-Elect Obama, we both kept looking at each other with confusion on our faces. We never said anything.  Nothing could be said.  This is what the nation decided.  As he spoke with emotion, energy, focus, and determination I found myself being swept into his brood, I got goose bumps and thought “this guy’s goood.”  Then they would flash a view of the crowd and I would instantly be snapped back into reality.  This is scary.  The people are wide-eyed, crying, screaming, jumping up and down, and I’m sure there were young girls that had to be carried out due to losing conscientiousness.  I didn’t like the feeling I got when I saw that.  This truly is a cult of personality.  People love him.  They adore him.  They are putting all their hopes and dreams into this man.  And sadly, they are worshiping him.

I can appreciate how African-American’s would have a level of pride unsurpassed before.  Only 100 years ago this would have been not only impossible but talk of it would be seen as laughable and punishable.  Here we are, so far beyond those times.  It is a proud day to be an American, no doubting that.  But, worshiping him?  I never saw that coming I guess.  Whites, blacks, homosexuals, heterosexuals, young (mostly) and old.  Believing this one man has all the power to make their worries go away.  Trusting that he will deliver them from a life of hardship, into a life of wine and roses.  And they are buying it hook, line and sinker.  There is even a blog called Obama Messiah where the writer looks into everything he does from the perspective that he is indeed the messiah we have all been longing for…..except for those of us who know the real Messiah walked on water, raised himself from the grave and gave the world undeserving grace – even for unspeakable acts as these.

I hope Obama will be the President he says he will be.  Listening to the people.  Being honest with the people.  Joining both sides of the aisle together to work as a bipartisan government.  I pray that he delivers all that he is saying.  I hope he is the man he says he is, not the man his past proves he has been.  His record as a Senator and in his personal life does not fare well in the eyes of a conservative, Christian, patriotic,  America-loving woman such as myself.  But, honestly, none of us know much about this silver-tongued young man as he really has not done anything.  Sure, he’s done more than say, ME but I’m not running for President of the Free World.  What people were banking on is, “This guy seem so Presidential and nice, and he is change.  He just has to do a good job.”

My prayer:

Dear God, you knew the outcome way before we did.  I pray that as a nation we come to You as our delieverer, our savior, our friend and our God.  Only You have the power to help us during struggles and we, collectively are in one.  The hopeless, Godless, and faithless are trying to fill a God-shaped hole in their heart with Obama and we all know a circle won’t fit where a square should be.  Help me personally to trust in you; to have faith that you are in charge so that I do not worry so much about what I cannot control.  In Jesus Christs name I pray (always). Amen

Do you remember that song?  I looooved it back in the days of tight-rolled pants and AquaNet.  It was sung by a band call Living Colour.  A rare blend of hard hitting rock and an all African-American band.  And an awesome one in my opinion.  One hit wonders I believe but hey, that one song was awesome.  Don’t know what I’m talking about?  Click here.  Here are some of the lyrics.

Look into my eyes, what do you see?
Cult of personality
I know your anger, I know your dreams
I’ve been everything you want to be
I’m the cult of personality
Like mussolini and kennedy
I’m the cult of personality
Cult of personality
Cult of personality

Neon lights, a nobel prize
The mirror speaks, the reflection lies
You don’t have to follow me
Only you can set me free
I sell the things you need to be
I’m the smiling face on your t.v.
I’m the cult of personality
I exploit you still you love me

I tell you one and one makes three
I’m the cult of personality
Like joseph stalin and gandi
I’m the cult of personality
Cult of personality
Cult of personality

You gave me fortune
You gave me fame
You me power in your god’s name
I’m every person you need to be
I’m the cult of personality
Look into my eyes, what do you see?
Cult of personality
I know your anger, I know your dreams
I’ve been everything you want to be
I’m the cult of personality
Like mussolini and kennedy
I’m the cult of personality
Cult of personality
Cult of personality

Neon lights, a nobel prize
The mirror speaks, the reflection lies
You don’t have to follow me
Only you can set me free
I sell the things you need to be
I’m the smiling face on your t.v.
I’m the cult of personality
I exploit you still you love me
So, until recently I had not thought of this song in many a moons.  But, now I think of it often.  The reason?  Barack Obama.  He’s like a freaking rock star.  People flock to political rallies who do not even intend on voting for him (or anyone) but think he is some sort of God.  It truly has become a cult of personality.  He’s smooth, smart, articulate, has a great smile, looks healthy, and seems nice.  He has charisma.  He’s a swell guy.  I give him all of that.  But, I am pretty sure he still has to take a shit now and then.  That when he gets drunk he is one of those guys who hugs you too much and forgets about personal space.  You know, one of “I love you guys” type of drunks.

If he is given the position of President of these United States (just tasted a little vomit) he will prove just how little he knows about not only how to run a country but about that little, unimportant piece of parchment called The Constitution.  He thinks the geniuses we call our forefathers got it wrong when they constructed a government Constitution that spelled out what it could not do for the people (ie: make a national religion, infringing on the right to peacably assemble, can’t subject us to unreasonable searches and seizures).  No, Obama thinks all that is fine and good, kind of. Here’s a radio interview he did in 2001.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iivL4c_3pck]

All knowing Obama thinks the Constitution should explain what the Government can do for the people.  That is what our ancestors were getting away from when they sailed across the Atlantic.  They were escaping from an oppressive government that was telling everyone what they could and couldn’t do.  But, what did they know?

It just ticks me off.  I love this country just the way it is.  I don’t want the government doing anything for me except printing money and providing a military to protect me and my family.  Leave the rest to the people.

Mandy the Stay-at-Home Mom

If you are in a marriage where you feel like your husband would rather spend time with the dog/golf club/TV/car/bar/buddies/his right hand than you – skip this entry because I have so much bragging to do on my guy that it would make even the most “happily married” person gag.   You’ve been fully warned.

If you have been reading my posts you know that recently my husband left his job at a new home builder and has decided to work from home as a professional handicapper/horse player.  I know most women would cringe at the idea of their husband being home.  Honestly, I wondered how we would fare being in a confined space for an extended period of time.  Turns out – I NEVER WANT HIM TO GET A REAL JOB AGAIN.

His chosen career allots for plenty of time to do other things around the house.  He creates his own “honey do” list and works on it with vigor.  Example one: I asked him this past summer to help me transform our downstairs living room (AKA the place where we pile the clean clothes as it waits……and waits for me to come down and fold it) into a play room for the kids.  The wintertime in Southern Indiana can get rather mundane to put it nicely and it would be so nice to have somewhere else to go.  Plus, play dates would hopefully be a BIT quieter and more fun for the kids as well as the Moms.  Well, my Mr. Tolerable worked his cute little tail away for the past 2 days moving furniture, a Big Screen TV, rewiring the TV so we have a VCR AND a DVD player, removing doors, and vacuuming.  I didn’t remind him, I didn’t harp at him.  He listened when I said it the first time over 4 months ago and just did it.  How many men do that?  He has also been “wiping the rest of this place into shape” as he like to put it.  Hanging new binds, measuring our back door to be replaced, organizing his offfice, mowing, grocery shopping, doing laundry (since he is downstairs anyway, where the machine is – his words, not mine) ordering a new fridge and me a new Palm Centro (AWESOME).  I just keep saying, “You spoil me so bad!”  His response is always the manly, “Cuz you sex me up baby.”  Followed with either a butt squeeze or a boob honk.  What can I say, he’s still a man.

Jackson and Alex absolutely adore their Daddy.  It has been so awesome watching their relationships grow in just a few months.  They now get to see Daddy anytime they want.  Yesterday morning Jackson made his Daddy blue berry muffins (with a touch of help from Mommy).  He was so proud of himself and couldn’t wait for Daddy to wake up.  As he was stiring the mixture he looks up at me with those huge hazel eyes and says, “This make Daddy so happy!”  My heart melted.  Jackson was right.

Our relationship and marriage is better than ever.  Our finances (thanks in part to inheritances) have never been better.  Our sex life is amazing.  Our friendship is even more solid than before and we’ve always been best friends.  He no longer comes home pissed and stressed out about that “stupid company.”  The overall demeanor of the household has lightened and become so happy.  I feel so blessed to be where we are right now.  I pray that he never has to return to a “real” job and can stay home with us forever.

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Have you ever head the saying, “An insane person never questions their sanity?”  If that’s true I must be the most sane person on the planet because I question my level of lucidity daily.  It doesn’t help that I recently decided I no longer need to be on the antidepressants that were prescribed to me when I was going through infertility treatments.  It was a hard time in my life and I found myself in a dark hole.  The medication helped tremendously.  Now, however, I am the blessed mother of two beautiful, healthy little rug rats.  My thinking was that I no longer need that medicine.  But, being the “jump first look later” woman I am, I just stopped taking it.  Fast forward a week or so and I was suffering from nausea, headaches, exhaustion, and moodiness.  When these symptoms didn’t go away and the home pregnancy test alleviated the thoughts I had of pregnancy, I Google, “going off Prozac” and turns out there are all kinds of warnings about going off of it cold turkey.  Wish I would have read that BEFORE I decided to stop taking it.

I waited another week (we are now up to 3 weeks) and saw my family doctor.  Honestly though, I didn’t really go to the doctor about the Prozac withdraws, I went because my asthma had come back full force from the days of my childhood.  I had started using my rescue inhaler 4-6 times a day, using a nebulizer at night before bed, and awakened in the night with attacks as well.  They put me on Advair – all is well.  Haven’t had to use my inhaler or nebulizer once since I started taking it.  Awesome.  Anywhoooo……while I was at the doctors office I told them about how I had gone off of Prozac cold turkey.  I was warned about it but they realized it was too late for that and said that there is nothing they can do now since it had been 3 weeks.  Had I gone in when I wanted to go off of it they would have put me on a decreasing dosage regimen.  I would take a total of 2-3 months to be fully off of it.  So, their advice was to just grin and bear it – the worse was almost over. So, I still have headaches, nausea, dizziness, moodiness, and just feel like crap.

Meanwhile, externally things are not doing much better.  My father-in-law passed away last week.  I had grown to love this funny old man.  He reminded me so much of my husband that it was hard not to see how much he had influenced and created the man that I hold so dear.  Funerals, Catholic Mass, prayers, and tears followed his death but also a lot of laughter.  As my husband and his two siblings went through his belongings we were all surprised amused at the level of organization this man had in everything he had.  From cassette tapes, to videos, to his check book.  We found ledgers dating back in the 50′s!  All in order, all together in a box.  He had a plan for everything.  Nothing happened by chance – it was all planned, scheduled and well thought out.  This is one of the many traits Jim the Tolerable inherited from his father.  Thank God.  Left to me, nothing would get done.  I am easily distracted.  Fly by the seat of my pants.  And live in a sea of spontaneity.  We balance each other out.

So, getting back on the train of thought I had when I started this post – Everything is crazy around here.  If you were to look at my calendar on the fridge you would see that pretty much every day had something on it.  Then, throw in a funeral, a sick grandmother, and a social life and we have not been home more than 5 days total this month.  We all feel out of sorts and are ready to just BE HOME.

I’d love to finish this post but I have to get in the shower so we can head out of town to visit my grandmother in the hospital, then to a wedding rehearsal and dinner.  Tomorrow a wedding.

Wake me up when November arrives.

EDITED TO ADD: The night of the wedding we got the call from the hospital that my Grandma passed.  I’m a weird blend of releaved, saddened, and happy for Grandma.  I will miss her but know that she is finally with her beloved Walter.  We stayed “away from home” several more days.  Now maybe will be able to relax at home as a family for a bit.  Time will tell.

Never before have I had more of a respect for Clark W. Griswald as I did this past weekend.  I am always trying to make sure my family and I have a good time but sometimes life gets in the way.

The husband, kids and I packed up the camper/travel trailer, the SUV and our expectations for fun and headed north to Speedway, Indiana.  The racing capital of the world?  Where they race the Indy 500?  So, you’ve heard of it?  Good.  This Sunday was the first motorcycle race at the legendary speedway in almost 100 years.  Since my husband would watch ostriches race at the IMS we had to go.  Being the sport I am I looked at it as a time that the family can get away, maybe hit the zoo or Children’s Museum and have the picturesque camping adventure as seen only in the RV brochures.

PASHA!  The first two days were the closest to hell I think I have experienced.  First off, it was humid, hot and oh yea, OUR GENERATOR DOESN’T WORK.  This is not that big of a deal except it rained and rained and RAINED (thanks to hurricane Ike).  Imagine being stuck inside a hot camper where you can’t open the windows due to the rain, no TV, no microwave, and toddlers who seem as if their shoes have springs.  Not my idea of a good time.  Jim, being the dutiful husband and father headed out in the rain and bought another generator!  I hated the idea of spending the money but I have to admit, I was beyond happy when the air conditioning hit my face and I heard the theme song from “Word World.”

Second day, more rain but that’s ok.  Jim is going over to the track to watch practice and I am taking the kids and meeting a friend and her son at the Children’s Museum.  What a great day this will be.  When I arrived at the museum I turned into a parking lot that was only for school buses and handicapped vehicles.  As I am attempting to leave said parking lot a woman who obviously takes her job as security very serious flags me down.  I roll down my window and she says,

“You are going to cause a WRECK!  You went the wrong way all the way through this parking lot!”

Playing a sheepish stupid girl I say, “Oh, I’m sorry – I’m just trying to get out of here and over to the parking garage.”

Angry rent-a-cop: “Well, back up, go down THIS aisle and exit THAT exit.  Cross the street and you will find the entrance to the garage.”

Me:  “Oh, OK.”

Rent-a-cop:  “Be careful and don’t cause a wreck!”

I back my big ol’ Excursion up and try to do the right thing.  Evidently I didn’t see the curb and ran right over it as I went down “that” aisle.  I didn’t even look back at the evil woman and I felt my face flush in embarrassment.  I can only imagine I looked like Big Foot crawling over cars as my head just about hit the ceiling as I bounced around inside.  I should have seen this as a omen of things to come…..

Once inside the museum, Val and I watched the boys run around the Dynosphere looking at the skeletal remains of a T-rex.  Sam was showing Jackson all the cool cubby holes and hidden treats.  About 40 minutes into this dreamlike outing I turn to get the stroller (where Alex was) to head to the train exhibit and Jackson has disappeared.  My heart stopped.  I just knew this was not good.  That kid is the fastest thing this side of the Ohio.  I was right.  Frantic searching by both me and Val yielded nothing.  As each second went by I could feel my level of anxiety rising.  Val says, “Follow me.” and I’m try my best to do just that.  But, let me qualify this by saying Val is one of those sick people who actually run for “pleasure” so the speed at which she twisted through the Egyptian catacombs exhibit left me panting behind her and trying to just catch a glimpse of her shadow so I didn’t lose her trail.  She leads me to a security officer who has the bright idea to help me search for him.  At that moment I wanted her to call the head of security, have all the doors locked, and have every single person in that place look for the “little boy with a grey shirt that says ‘my Dad rocks.’”  But, we searched the floor AGAIN and she finally called head of security.  Now this is where my memory gets a little foggy – maybe I was in panic, shock, whatever.  But, the head of security who has an ear piece in his ear says, “There is a code Adam matching this description.  I’m with the mother.”  Silence as he listens to the other end.

Then he says, “Is your little boy wearing a grey shirt, blue jean shorts and loves race cars?”

“Yes! Where is he???”

“They are going to bring him to the concierge desk.  Follow me.”

I get there and wait, wait……head of security again is obviously listening to someone talking in his hear and then he turns to me and says, “It seems they are having a hard time getting him to come with them.  I’ll just take you to him.”  I’m confused by what all this means but at this point all I want to do is see my son, hug him, smell his sweet hair and ring his little neck!  We go up to FLOOR 4. That’s right, the little monger got 3 floors away from me!  We step off the elevator and what do I see?  Jackson sitting inside an Indy car.  It seems he wouldn’t let any of the security take him out of “his” Indy car.  When he sees me he says with the utmost excitement, “Hi Bobby, I in a racing car….a Indy Car!!!”  So proud of himself.  I scoop his butt up out of that car hug him so tight and hold back the tears then through clinched teeth I say right in his ear, “Don’t you ever run away from Mommy again or I’ll spank your butt so hard your head will spin.”

After all of this it was hard for me to relax and enjoy this wonderful museum.  It was fun though.  I just had that adrenalin rush and such a rush is hard to come down from.  Val stayed with us for about another hour.  We saw the rest of the “kid friendly” parts of the museum.  Jackson saw it all from the safe haven of the stroller, much to his chagrin.  Then Val and Sam left when it became painfully obvious it was time for Sam’s nap. LOL.  I went ahead and stayed at the museum and saw the rest of the museum..another hour or so.

The trip back to the camper was uneventful – no curbs were harmed.  No rent-a-cops angered.  Kids all safely strapped into car seats.  I did get lost for a bit but a call to Jim got us headed in the right direction.  At the camper Jim and I realize we are about out of milk and other such staples.  He heads to the grocery store while I stay back with the kids to feed them.  While I am trying to microwave their chicken nuggets the NEW generator pops a breaker.  I head outside to flip the switch.  While I’m out there our neighbor comes over and says, “I thought no one was here so I turned your generator the other way – it’s just so damn loud.”  I explain how it was an “emergency” buy.  How our “quiet” generator went out and this was just the one they had at Lowe’s.  He was nice about it but made it clear that he didn’t like the noise.  I turn, flustered and embarrassed for the 3rd time today when my hand pops off the door handle.  It is LOCKED.  Jackson was able to reach the door from him high chair and just my luck, LOCKED ME OUT.  No keys, no cell phone, no patience.  I just sit down on the step and hold my head in my hands.  You would think I would just sit there and cry but all I could do was laugh.  I hang off the hand rail and do some sort of contortionist back bend to see into the trailer.  Jackson sees me and smiles, “Hi Bobby…what cha doin?”  “Unlock the door Jackson.  UNLOCK THE DOOR!”  He fiddles with it a bit until finally, success. I am inside.  When Jim got home he and I had one hell of a fight.  I cried, he apologized and we both agreed tomorrow would be (had to be) better.

It was.

Although in my heart I will still be

Writing nonsense

I won’t be able to put them down on paper

Or a screen.

Plan to return from a family trip

Full of stories.

In the meantime remember me like this

Here but not quite.

How many of you out there caught the Republican National Convention and saw the speech that Sarah Palin gave as she accepted the nomination as the candidate for the Vice President for the United States?  Evidently 21.5 million of you did.  Did anyone else have this conversation with their husband in response to it?

Me:  I need new glasses.  I guess I’ll set up an appointment tomorrow morning.

Hubby: Huph

Me:  Think I would look good in glasses like Sarah Palin’s?

Hubby:  I thought they were pretty hot.

Me:  Wonder what kind they are.

Hubby:  Wonder how many other women in America are asking that same question.

Then the next day we see this article.  I guess I’m not the only one wanting to look hot AND be taken seriously in glasses.  Something I think Palin pulls of with her look.  Think I, too, could pull it off.?  Not that it matters as I’m not about to drop $400 on frames alone.  Just a hypothetical question really.

(AND YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS GOING TO BE ONE OF THE BORING POLITICAL BLOG POSTS!)

Think back to a simpler time.  The year: 1992.  The fashion: banana clips, Adidias work out pants that make noise with every step, over-all’s with one buckle undone, and Thermonuclear T-shirts worn with another shirt under it so you can roll the sleeves up and show that flashy under shirt (layering in it’s infancy).  I am 13 years old.  Carrying a (backpack) purse for the first time but usually only for a week a month.  Slumber parties are my idea of a good time and Boyz II Men are on the radio constantly singing about “Making Love to You.”  I own (and wear as often as possible) a blue jean jacket covered with buttons and other decor.  But, not just any buttons – New Kids On The Block buttons.  I even had New Kids on the Block earrings (I can’t abbreviate and say NKOTB yet because that came later).  The method of styling my hair consisted of 3 steps:

1.) Blow dry my hair strait up on the side of my head.

2.) While the dryer is still blowing, spray hair spray (Aqua Net) to the area where the “volume” is wanted.  This usually created a “head out the window look.”

3.)  Use a curling iron on the tips to curl them back.

Man, was I cool.  I was down with OPP.  Those were simpler, awkward and confusing times.

Every Thursday night I would look forward to a new episode of my favorite show to air.  I would call my best friend, Elizabeth, on the phone and we would “watch” it together.  Each of us in our respective bedrooms, laying on our stomachs, phone to ear, legs kicking behind our heads.  Beverly Hills 90210 BABY!  We gasped when Kelly kissed Dylan – “That’s Brenda’s man you backstabbing bitch!”  We agreed that Andrea Zuckerman was by far the most uncool person at West Beverly High and in real life the actor that played her had to be old…..like 30.  We drooled over Brandon (my favorite), Dylan and Steve (her favorite).  Man we loved that show.  I was the perfect age to be one of the legions of young people who are the direct reason why 90210 became the huge hit it was.

I understand it probably was not as good of a program as my nostalgia makes me think it was.  I’m sure the plots were hollow, the drama so predictable and the actors sub-par.  However, to a 13 year old girl like me, it was the best show on television.

You would think with the fond memories I have of 90210 I would have a better reaction to the “New Beverly Hills 90210″ series that debuted it’s 2 hour premier episode on Tuesday.  They are dropping the “Beverly Hills” part and just calling the series 90210.  I’ve read some reviews of it that were far from flattering but as someone how did not see it, I cannot honestly comment on the quality of the actors, the writers, or the story lines.  But I’ve read reviews about how the characters are exactly like the “retro” cast.  Even down to the new kids (brother and sister) who move into town and are the “good” kids who were not raised around the glamor and lifestyle that is Beverly Hills.  Nat is still minding the bar at The Peach Pit.  Kelly (Jenny Garth) and Brenda (Shannon Daughtery) are said to make appearances on a semi-regular basis.  Even the intro music is eerily similar.

See for yourself:  [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lzWJULZ5sjg]

Just the first several riffs on that guitar and I am magically transformed into a self-conscious teenager wondering what “masterVation” is and living off of cheese.  This isn’t a good thing!

And then to top all this off, the very same day I learn of the resurrection of 90210, I turn on Good Morning America and who is on the stage performing?  Joe, John, Danny, Jordan and Donnie.  New kids on the Freaking Block?  Or should I say “Old Dudes who have been around the block, made a lot of money and should fade off into the sunset?”  I just stood in the middle of the living room staring in disbelief and uttering under my breath, “What the fuuuuuudge?” (my new kids who repeat everything were in the room).  Seems they are returning to the recording studio and touring together as a group for the first time in 15 years.  Last I saw of John Knight he was on Maury Povich talking about his debilitating social phobia and stage fright.  After his huge stardom with NKOTB he became a recluse who stayed in his home afraid of people staring at him.  He was a ball of nerves and sweat on the stage that day.  Jordan was on this particular show as well saying he too had suffered from this phobia but not in as serious of a form as his brother, John.  They have obviously learned to deal with it and moved on.  Good for them.  Bad for us.  Donnie Walburg is now a very respected actor but he’s heading up this venture as the writer and producer of their new album.  It’s all very surreal.  I loved them.  I wanted to marry them.  They were IT.  My brothers would tell me about how in 5 years they would be gone and I would feel silly for ever having listened to their songs, plastering my bedroom walls with their faces, and wearing their junk on my person.  Boy, I hated it when I realized they were right.

I just don’t know what to make of all of this.  What’s next?  Marky Mark pulling down the ol’ britches and reuniting with the Funky Bunch?  I refuse to tight roll my pants ever again.  I’m just saying….

I took the kids to the park yesterday for a much needed, much missed playdate with our friends.  They got so filthy that the bath tub still has a black ring around it.  The sure sign of a good time in the eyes of a 2 year old little boy.

After a nice bath in dirt water, Sissy took a nap and the boy and I headed to the library.  We had John Scieszka books that needed returning.  Jackson is a bit young to “get” Scieszka’s humor but I hope when he is older he will find them as uniquely hilarious as I do.  I caught myself reading them long after Jackson lost interest and went to find a car to shove in his sister’s mouth.  I would laugh out loud and then read the portion I found exceptionally funny to Mr. Tolerable.   If you don’t know of any of his books and have 4-6 year old children, I highly recommend these books.  OK, there’s my pitch – wish I was getting paid for that.

When back from the library I read some of the “better” books Jackson picked out – I have grown so tired of reading about race cars and rocket ships I could scream.  But, in the interest of instilling a love of reading, I wade through them.  Mr. Tolerable was down in the office in the basement cleaning it out and trying to prepare himself for a life of employment.  In his de-cluttering extravaganza he brought up a world map and told me Jackson could play with it.  I taped it to the wall and told Jackson where we lived.  Jackson calls it “Merica.”  Pretty good.

I got the idea to find pictures of some of Jackson’s favorite television characters from other countries, print them, cut them out, and put double sided tape on the backside.  I let him stick The Wiggles on Australia.  He asks, “Wiggle House here?”  We put Diego and Dora in Mexico, Kai Lan in China, Arton Senna in Brazil, and a picture of Jackson and Alex in the U.S. of A.  I let him put them in the areas that I pointed to.  Explaining which country it is and what language they speak.  I didn’t get into the specifics how in Brazil’s official national language is Portuguese but that there are hundreds of dialects throughout the country.  I figure that can wait until he is 3.  That is sarcasm for those of you who did not recognize it.  The whole time I am sitting on the floor pointing at the map, I am not really thinking about the fact that I’m teaching anything…more like playing and trying to keep Jackson occupied.  Mr. T came up the stairs as we were placing Kai Lan on China and smiled and returned to his down stairs lair.

Later he came up after our little play session was over and said,

“You know you are already homeschooling right?”

I said, “What?”

“That whole map on the wall thing with the characters on it.  That is homeschooling.”

It never really occurred to me as such.  I was just being a Mother and trying to challenge Jackson, keeping him from driving me crazy and putting to use the “useless” map that his Dad was about to discard.  I sat up a little straighter and had a wave of pride sweep over me.  It also made me think, “Maybe I can do this homeschooling thing.”  I don’t know anyone who goes about the task of homeschooling without having thought it all out, researched, and weighed the pros and con.  Even still we (homeschoolers) ask ourselves, “What if I can’t do this?”

I think I can.  I think I can.