Super Sappy Saturday

I am in Washington D.C. Got in yesterday afternoon and Sarah AND the Goon Squad were kind enough to circle Dulles Airport 17 times to pick me up.

Actually Sarah was driving and the twins were napping. They only get to drive on weekends, Sarah said, and only then if they have the cows all milked and the butter churned. Hey, they are only 3 years old, but they are hard workers.

We went to dinner with two of my favorite bloggers and twitterers, my soul sister Nancy of Mom Ma'am Me and Parentopia Devra. I also got to meet the fabulous and pregnant-with-her-third Lumpyhead's Mom.

We were discussing the Lumpy-child-to-be's name and Lumpyhead's mom said it was John, which led to a discussion of Jon or John and Lumpyhead's mom said her husband thought it was going to be one way but she thought it was going to be the other but she hadn't told him yet.

"You have a silent H that you're keeping from your husband?" shot Devra, which made me laugh harder than I have in months. THAT's why I love her.

I am staying at the Hotel Madera at Devra's suggestion. It is the hotel the W Chicago wishes it was but can never be. It is adult and fun while still being tasteful and not Annoying as Hell. See: giraffe-print robes. Fun.


Today I did the tourist thing. Found my way around the Metro (LOVE!) to the National Mall, which is pretty much the best mall I have ever been to because there is no Abercrombie and Fitch and no Cinnabon.

I went to the Air and Space museum expecting to be underwhelmed by airplanes but got all choked up at the sliver of moon rock that you can actually touch. It was a huge attraction - people were lined up and crowding to get to it.

I found myself in tears at the thought - first at the fact that I was touching a piece of the moon THE MOON! and then at the millions of hours of labor and genius that went into making the moon landings possible. Yow.

I am a little in love with this beautiful city. It helps that the weather is probably some of the best they have all year - low 70s with big puffy clouds. If it was like this all the time, I might be tempted to move here.

Wish I could share it with you in real life instead of just on my blog.

And you kids get off my lawn!

Travis, the checker at Target, was a very young-looking, very sullen boy.

He looked so young I wanted to ask him if it was summer vacation already.

He didn't speak to me at all. He put the change in my hands.

Travis: Sixteen dollars and seven cents.
Suebob: Thanks.
Pause
Suebob: Thank you.
Waiting. Travis glanced up nervously.
Suebob: You're going to have to say "Thank you."
Travis looked at me in disbelief.
Suebob: Yes, Travis, I'm sorry, but it is part of the job. You're going to have to say "Thank you" to me.
Travis could not have looked more shocked if I had told him he was going to have to produce a monkey from his butt.
Travis, sullenly as only a Target checker named Travis can be: Thank you.
Suebob: Remember, I pay your wages.

Next up: calling young men "Sonny" and putting glass jars of water on my lawn to keep pooping dogs away.

A hand across the fiberoptic cable

I met Amy at BlogHer 06 and we hung out by the pool. She is one of those women who looks far younger than her age - I'll bet she still gets carded - and is cute and blonde and athletic-looking.

But I still didn't feel like smacking her! Amazing. She had this cool personality that made me feel like one of her girls, not the large, sweaty stranger that I most certainly was (that was the year my thighs got chapped from walking around in a skirt all day, oh, yeah, good times, people).

She quit blogging a while ago, and I was sad to see her go. Yesterday she popped up in my comments section and it felt like getting a surprise gift.

I went over to her blog and found that she has had a recent miscarriage. She returned to blogging for the same reason many of us do - to learn, once again, that we are not alone.

If you would, please go visit Piece of Work and give Amy the virtual hug she needs right now. We are all in this together.

Talk Amongst Yourselves

I got such a thoughtful and concerned anonymous comment on my last post that I thought I would copy n paste it out here so others could comment. I wonder this type of thing myself all the time.

I don't want to be a downer but I have serious and sincere question to ask the mothers/fathers out there "When you decided to have a child, did any of you angst about what kind of world they might be inheriting?" Again, this is a sincere question.

My husband and I have really seriously considered having children. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see some version of my husband in another person -- with all the excitement and passion for learning and living. But the thing I fear most is the fear they may face knowing the pain of water, fuel, and food (etc.) shortages, a chaotic and mad world where people aggressively and fiercely hoard what little resources they have from others.

Sometimes I fear for myself as to what life may be like as I get older but I am absolutely terrified of the idea of what this could mean to my child. Yes, I understand adoption is an option and one that we are seriously considering but out of curiosity how did those who took that leap into parenthood get pass this mental or emotional hurdle? Again this is a serious and sincere question and on that I come back to again and again but am deeply afraid to ask my friends who are having children for fear or really alienating them.

All I can say on the subject is that these concerns were part of my decision to remain childless. I am, I admit, a big chicken. I don't know how other people do it.

Anne Lamott said something like "Being a parent means never having another peaceful night -" because of all the fears that come along with having children.

Discuss.

Pink is for girls and macho is for boys

Buying presents for my newest (not yet born) great-nephew's baby shower and struggling to get one of these big bags off the hanger:


Woman: Will you get me one of those bags, too?
Suebob: Here you go.
Woman: Oh, no this is for a girl. I need one for a boy.
Suebob: I'm getting mine for a boy. Look, it is Noah's Ark. Boy elephant, girl elephant.
Woman (making a face): For a boy? No. This is for a girl.
Suebob: I think it’s a little early to start imposing gender roles on it, don’t you?

No, I did not say that last line. I stole it from Monty Python's "Meaning of Life". But I should have.

I mean, WTF? Are boys banned from hearts and rainbows even before they are born? How vigilant do we have to be to make sure our boys don't turn into homosexuals? Because isn't that what this is all about? You give them pastels in infancy and the next thing you know, they are rollerskating down Main Street on Pride Day in assless chaps, waving a rainbow flag and chanting "We're here, we're queer, because Auntie gave me the wrong wrapping paper"?

That would be so wrong. Because 1) all chaps are by definition assless so the term is redundant and 2) That chant does not even rhyme.