Back to reality

Tuesday rocked me.

The inauguration moved my spirit like nothing has in a long, long time. I gathered my children in my lap and sat in front of the television to watch President Obama deliver his inaugural address. With tears streaming down my face, I dreamt big dreams and tried my hardest to impress this memory on my heart forever.


When Evan, in an uncanny impersonation of a teenage girl, said, "Is this guy, like, ever going to be done? He's getting annoying."

So. Ruling out the chance that my four-year-old son is in fact a pubescent female, I can only surmise one of two other things.

The first possibility is that Evan, at the age of four, is a Republican. sigh

Either that, or in four years, the Inauguration Planning Committee (or whoever puts this shindig together) needs to seriously consider the timing of the inaugural ceremony, possibly going so far as to actually consult with me, so it does not conflict with my preschooler's lunch hour. Because I don't care if world sentiment is shifting and wrongs are being righted and the nation is joined in harmony for a few precious moments. When it's time for peanut butter and jelly, everything else must wait.

Everything, dammit.

Now that we've clarified our agenda, carry on, Mr. President.

Political advertising dollars well-spent

Bear with me; or, more precisely, bear with Evan. I'm sure you're sick to death of politics and politicians. But Evan is only four, and is not known for adjusting to change well. The abrupt end to the feeding frenzy has left him feeling a bit lost.

You probably all know my political leanings. Evan, on the other hand, simply adores John McCain. Perhaps it's his grandfatherly appearance. Perhaps it's that he referred to everyone as his "friend." Perhaps it's the military connection; as a boy's boy, Evan has a developmentally-appropriate interest in all things explosive. I don't know, but Evan talks about him fondly. Every time he wears self-proclaimed "fancy clothes" (ie, shirts with buttons and without stains or tears), he struts around proudly and says, "I look like John McCain!"


Yesterday he drew this picture:


Evan: "Mommy, this one is John McCain and this one is George Bush. [thoughtful pause] Are John McCain and George Bush brothers?"

Me: "No, they aren't."

Evan: "But look at this picture. Don't you think they look a lot alike?"


Who can argue with such logic?

Anyway. I don't know whether the Obama campaign should be ashamed that a four-year-old took their advertisements so literally, or embarrassed that they didn't come up with this idea....

Put away the hate

You know what we do today: we choose.

Spirits are running high (myself included). That's great: that's how it should be. Get out there, cheer for your candidate, (more importantly) vote for your candidate, tell the world how you feel. It's become a bit tedious of late, and the campaign has seemed to last far too long, but for the first time I can remember in a presidential election, the air is sizzling. Awesome.

You know what we need to do tomorrow? Put away the hate.

Tomorrow (or tonight, depending on how sleep-deprived you are and how late you can stay up, so you where I fall) we'll know. Tomorrow it will be time to put away the spiteful accusations and underhanded dealings and the ludicrous hyperbole. It won't be easy; lots of things have been said, fires of fear and uncertainty have been stoked relentlessly. It won't necessarily be easy to extinguish those flames, but we really must.

You don't need to abandon your principles. By all means, hold your convictions. I just happen to feel very strongly that we should all hold fairness and respect as part of those convictions. Dissent plays an important role in politics. Unfortunately it's sometimes difficult to negotiate the line between dissent and disrespect. As happens every campaign, negotiation of that line has failed miserably. It's fair to say that "civility" has melted a bit in the heat of campaign rhetoric. Please help me reclaim it.

Today it is our responsibility to vote.

Tomorrow it is our responsibility to give congratulations and respect to the winner, to pour a big bucket of decency on the hateful embers of this long campaign.

My contribution to the election dialogue

Being a "good" Democrat, two days ago I received an "invitation" to Obama's rally, RSVP requested. Here is my response. Read, and prepare to watch my poor tired brain actually melt:

Dear Senator Obama,

I regret to inform you that I will be unable to attend your rally tonight.

It's not that I don't want to be there. Outside, in the cold, with about 50,000 (give or take 43,000) of my closest friends who are waving signs and yelling and and looking toward you for political or financial or social salvation and trying to crush my child (who desperately wants to attend) and wanting to be a part of history or whatever. Ooo, maybe it will rain. It sounds awesome and I wish I could come. I do.

But, dude: 9:30? pm?! Is this a joke??!! The night before Halloween, when I must stay up late putting the finishing (aka "procrastinated") touches on the kids' Halloween costumes? (And by "late" I mean 9pm. At the outside.) After my kids have been sick and I've been sick and I really need a vacation from, well, not working and I've been a total insomniac and the thought of sacrificing a potential hour or two of sleep is enough to make me cry, even if it means I get to see you...?

No way. No. Way.

I want you to get elected next week. If my brain weren't numb from fatigue, I might try to verbalize my substantial feelings about the election and how interested I am in what the results will tell us about our country, but since I can't put together a coherent thought and since I'm pretty sure there's not a single angle of this protracted race that hasn't been analyzed to death, I'll just say "ditto" to all the liberal blogs (my guilty pleasure of late) and leave it at that. I really, really want you to win. But sorry, B. Can't come. Sleep wins. If I weren't so committed to you, I might cast a write-in vote for Sleep.

Have a good visit. I'll see you in the Huffington Post. And thanks for the invitation.

Sincerely, me