A rant. A rant-rant-rant-itty rant, Ranty McRants A Lot.

I am calling for an anti-boycott.

If you liked the book "Ender's Game", you should see the movie in theaters this weekend. And you should spend as much money as possible on the movie (IMAX, late-night, 3-D combo). Actually, if you haven't read the book, (1) shame on you, and (2) see the movie anyway, because the entire story will be new to you.

Why should you spend your hard-earned cash on expensive movie add-ons?

Because Orson Scott Card, the author of "Ender's Game," has come under fire for his personal views, none of which are reflected in either his book or this movie. There have been calls to boycott the movie. Boycotts because of the personal views of an artist. Outrageous. It is especially galling because the book is about an outsider who rises to his own potential in his own way.

In response to the issue over Card's views on traditional marriage, the studio has been distancing itself from the author of what I believe is one of the best books ever written. The author of the movie they're producing. Ugh.

I understand about not agreeing with others' personal views and ideas.

• Angelina Jolie is a homewrecker (yup, still an issue), but I watch her movies because she's generally a phenomenal actress.
• James Cameron has environmental views with which I don't agree and find quite kooky. But I still sometimes watch his movies.
• I don't share Joss Whedon's religious views (though I support his right to have those views), but I admire, enjoy, and support his shows and movies because his work is great and because he specifically creates strong female characters. 
• Tom Cruise questioned the merits of depression meds for post-partum women(!!!!!!!!)! But he's still allowed to make movies, and "Mission Impossible Ghost Protocol" was quite good.
• Giselle Bundchen makes some of the most indulged, out-of-touch, high-society, rich-know-it-all-celebrity, douchey comments of any woman in the news, but she's still a great model who should continue to receive jobs.
• I strongly disagree with the political views of the CEO of Amazon, but Amazon is the best online retailer and I enjoy the level and quality of service I receive from them. Also, it is the right of the Amazon CEO, just as it is the right of all citizens of the USA, to use his private funds in whatever way he sees fit.

Just as it is the right of Orson Scott Card to express his personal views and not be lambasted for it. I am especially upset because he is being lambasted by groups that always, always, always call for "tolerance" of their lifestyles. Apparently that is not a two-way street for them; you only receive tolerance if you share their views. Which is despicable.

When a boycott* of Chick-fil-A was planned (which, again, was called because of the PERSONAL views of its President, not because of how the company treated individuals), I began frequenting the restaurant to show support.

Along those lines, we are going to see Ender's Game opening weekend and we're going to spend as much money as possible to give the movie a boost in the box office. An anti-boycott, if you will.

We are doing this to show we support the right of free speech, no matter the views of the speaker. Which I believe was espoused somewhere important by some fairly influential people.

I think my rant is over. In conclusion, if you support free speech and despise hypocrisy, see "Ender's Game" this weekend. And tell others!


* I was quite pleased to read in the July 26, 2013, issue of Entertainment Weekly that after the boycott of Chick-fil-A, "(s)ales for the chain climbed 14 percent in 2012." Hooray for the anti-boycott!

The times they are a'changing

Fifteen-ish years ago, I'm pretty sure White Zombie (and I) did not anticipate this.

Eminem probably didn't either.

Heh.

Losing my mind

Ha, on the Nani blog I re-posted pictures of Nadine in the snow. From the post just before it. Woops.

I have switched my medication, and I swear the new one has turned my brain into mush. I've never been so scatter-brained.

I've left my wallet (1) in a shopping cart at Target, and (2) at home. Both times, I didn't notice until I was ready to check out of the store, with a cart full of groceries (no worries, I always returned within an hour or two to purchase my cart).

The other night I came home late, my hands full. The next morning, I took the trash outside, and when I returned, I noticed I had left my keys in our door lock, on the OUTSIDE OF THE HOUSE. All night. Thank goodness we have a view-blocking storm door, and an alarm on our door, and really long-suffering guardian angels.

I switched meds because we're (still) trying to get pregnant. But the pregnancy-friendly meds are not nearly as effective as the other meds (which were hell to detox from, but so wonderful when I was taking them), and they have the unfortunate side-effect of making me spacey. And hungry. And rage-y. We'll see how long I last before I just give up and go back to the effective meds.

It's pretty funny how much trouble I have focusing, except when I really think about it. Then it's not so funny any more. Sigh.

Nani updates and a Facebook farewell

I added a very few pictures on the Nani blog. She's cute, so it's worth the click.

Hopefully my blog presence will increase (a bit) now, because . . .

I'm quitting Facebook.

Phew.

I feel so free.

And apprehensive.

(Please don't think I'm passive aggressively writing this to make others feel bad.
I'm just explaining my feelings. Blogging, if you will.)

I have a love/hate relationship with Facebook.

• It's a great way to keep in contact with people.
• It's like approved voyeurism.
• I get a high when people comment on my posts (lame!).

But at the same time,

• Facebook keeps you in contact with people
• it's approved voyeurism
• using it makes me feel euphoric. I'm quite addicted to it.

I'm not horrifically addicted. I generally only log in once a day, and luckily I don't have the app on any devices. But I log in EVERY DAY. When I could be interacting with my child. Or exercising. Or cleaning. Or napping. Or reading. Or actually personally contacting my friends.

Facebook facilitated me becoming "friends" with people with whom I had hoped to never interact again. I know I could've declined their friend requests, but I have guilt doing that (lame!), and I was also overcome with curiosity about whether high school mates had continued to wreck their lives.

Facebook was also good at keeping me in contact with select few individuals, but I've realized I can't stay on it just because it's my way of staying up to date with these people.

And most importantly, constantly seeing the random, whiny, menial thoughts of "friends" caused me to really, really dislike them. The following sums it up perfectly:

(In the interest of full disclosure, I have also severely limited my time on Pinterest. While trying to mitigate my depression, I realized the only thing Pinterest accomplishes for me [except recipes] is that I negatively compare myself to the other moms there. And that's lame and terribly destructive.)

Facebook is far too efficient at quenching my thirst for drama, so it has to go. It has to go because I waste a lot of time on it. It has to go because there are few relationships that can be fostered only on Facebook. And it has to go because sometimes I find myself thinking of my life in terms of status updates (lame!).

Plus, not having a Facebook account will justify sending out Christmas cards.

I am all astonishment

10 or so years ago, I would not have guessed the artist Pink would be such a great singer. Don't get me wrong--I thoroughly enjoy Pink; she is the ultimate in angry ballads and has many songs that are fun to dance to.

But I never thought her capable of singing like she does in the two videos below. I am honestly floored by the quality of her singing voice.

In this video, she also proves to be a pretty dang good choreographed dancer. Am I just too old (and past the need for angry ballads) to have not known this about her?

The song below is absolutely amazing. And it features the lead singer of the band fun. If I can't see fun. in concert, at least I can listen to him duet with Pink.

Annie Get Your Gun (or, A 'Slate'-worthy Rant)

At a recent book club, the topic of conversation turned to giving birth (why, in groups of mothers, does the conversation nearly always devolve into birth stories? I enjoy telling mine, but my goodness! I also enjoy a break from talking about children.).

I started thinking about birth stories, different ways of giving birth, the fact women judge each other about their birthing choices, and women judging each other in general. Why do we do this to each other? Why do some women enjoy patting themselves on the back, engaging in one-upmanship, and smugly humming the song, “Anything you can do I can do better”? I wish women would be supportive of each other and celebrate any success in the very difficult job that is motherhood.

For me, the most frustrating “debate” is epidural vs no epidural.

I had an epidural. I loved it. I will have one again. Me having an epidural doesn’t make me any less of a mother. I still carried a baby for nine months and then propelled her from my body. I don’t expect judgment or praise for doing what I did; it is what it is. I made an educated and informed decision, and other women make their own (hopefully) educated and informed decisions to have a baby at home, in a hospital without having an epidural, and via cesarean section (collectively, my favorite people have used all of these methods).

Drugs, no drugs (I can’t stand the term “natural;” the very act of removing a baby from your body is natural, as is taking drugs to alleviate pain), C-section—all are valid ways to have a baby. No method is superior to the others, and no woman should feel less of a mother because of the method she chose or what was deemed medically necessary for her. Carrying and giving birth to a baby is tough and painful, and for that alone we should support each other (and when I say "don’t judge," I also mean do not militantly recruit others to your way of doing things; scare tactics are nasty).

Some women have babies in a hospital, some women don’t have epidurals, and some women are unable to naturally have babies—all methods are valid and deserve no judgment. We’re all in the same boat, ladies! We’re trying to raise children to become responsible, productive, interesting, non-annoying adults. Why can’t we all just get along?

I truly don’t understand this phenomenon. Do some women feel diminished if another woman has a different birth experience than hers? This doesn’t happen in any other area of medicine. When someone has her appendix removed, the following exchange never happens: 

Oh, you had surgery? Did you go natural?

WHAT?! How selfish of you to use anesthesia. Your experience was so diminished.

Don’t you know hospitals are dangerous?

When my appendix was removed, I didn’t have any drugs. It was removed at home. By my neighbor.

I’m going to give you some web sites full of anecdotal evidence about why your choice is wrong.

I’m also going to show you a video full of anecdotal propaganda about why your choice is wrong.

Next time you have an organ removed, you really should do it my way.

Seriously. Isn’t that an odd exchange? Yet a variation of the above conversation happens every time women discuss giving birth. Some women smugly insist their way is superior than another way, and this is incorrect and unfair. There are many ways to do a good thing.

Why do we judge the choices other moms make? Except in the cases of child abuse and smoking around children (and other practices that have actual scientific, verifiable evidence of their negative effects), we shouldn't question what other parents do. Most women are doing the best they can do, and we should support that. There are many different, effective, positive ways to give birth to and raise children. My way of doing it is no less valid than yours, even if it is different.

Stop judging. Stop it.

I'm back. Did you miss me?

Man, it has been forever since I blogged. Especially about Nani. Her blog is updated, with TWO posts even.

The first post is about her birthday. She just turned 2. I have a toddler. Crazy.

I actually really enjoy the toddler stage. I like that she can interact with me (even though she talks nearly all the time), use her imagination, understand being silly and playing games, understand things I explain and teach, etc.

I did not enjoy the infant stage. I always loved my baby, but I had a really rough time with motherhood. Truth be told, I still do. There was a perfect storm of things that had an impact on me not enjoying an infant, but my ridiculously long postpartum depression and my inability to have someone dependent on me were definitely the biggest factors.

I've struggled with postpartum depression since she was born, and it wasn't until just a few months ago that I started feeling like I'm getting the better of it (instead of vice versa). I still have rough days, but it's so nice to feel like I'm finally digging myself out of that hole.

Recently I've discovered I internally let my sadness define me, that I know I'm sad and that's the biggest battle so therefore I've won. I am currently working on not just being content with recognizing depression, but actually taking steps to live my life despite it. To actually try to overcome it. It's slow going, but I'm looking forward to actually empowering myself.

I don't know why I just shared this with the Internet. Maybe because I know other people struggle silently with these feelings, and it's nice to know you're not alone and you're not weird.

So, the moral of the story is, there are two new blog posts about Nadine, who I love and adore and cherish and who brings me much joy (when I allow myself to realize it).

It's June . . .

. . . and we're not moving. Hooray!!!

We have been married for four Junes, and we haven't spent more than one complete June in the same house.

We still have two more Junes in this house.

I like that feeling.

Rubber duckie, you're the one

I have a subscription to Parents magazine, which I thoroughly enjoy reading. They have some really helpful articles, articles with totally fun activities, and articles that are ridiculously hilarious in their fear-mongering. Why has The Media decided to report every little thing that could possibly harm 0.01% of the population and report on it as if we're all in danger? Sheesh. But I digress.

February's Parents has an article about the "windows of opportunity" for infants and toddlers, the times in which you can best begin a habit (sleep through the night, start solids, etc.). I love these kinds of articles. In all my nerdiness, I scan articles like this and keep a topical record that I can use when some of the information is more applicable.

One of their windows (which also include potty training and using a sippy cup) is the time to introduce a "lovey." This window I just don't

understand. Why why why would you purposely attach your child to a single object, something they can't sleep or leave the house without? Something that is easily lost and will lead to meltdowns and sadness for all? (The article does helpfully suggest buying a replacement lovey, though from what I know about some kids' loveys, replaco-lovey doesn't cut it.)

Many kids naturally gravitate to a lovey. That is fine. But to have a strategy for creating a lovey, as if a lovey is suddenly a necessity... Am I the only one who thinks that's just silly?

Grinches? Or are we not alone in this?

Because this is our first Christmas with a non-newborn, we had to consider the possibility of sitting Nadine on Santa's lap. We're into photo ops, and a child on Santa's knee seems to be one of the quintessential ones (I love that word; many thanks to my Communications Law professor for introducing it to me). We passed Santas set up in the malls, and Santa was available at our church party. But we didn't get a picture with Nadine on Santa's lap.

We did this mainly because Santa arrived during Nadine's bedtime, and she's really not into people who aren't me or Todd.

As I have stated many times on this blog, I am a bit paranoid, and I think that plays into the Santa picture thing. We've decided we're never going to force Nadine into physical contact with people--no forced hugs/kisses from "great-aunt So and So," etc. If she doesn't want to go near someone, she won't have to; it's important for her to listen to and follow her feelings. So how does that work if we force her to sit on a stranger's lap? It doesn't.

She may be the only child in history never pictured on Santa's knee. Oh well.

Just to be the man who walked 1,000 miles to fall down at your door

How fun is this sign?! It's at the beginning of Interstate 70 here in Maryland.

My mom had heard about it, so yesterday we drove to it. The Interstate going east literally just ends and you make a big U-turn and then start going west.

This is the very end of the Interstate.

Then you see how many miles until the other end of I-70. Which we have also seen (it ends at I-15 in Utah). How often do you get to see the beginning and end of an Interstate?

I have a special place in my heart for Cove Fort, not just because it reminds me of driving home from Utah, but also because one July my sister Lindsay and I had to turn around on the Interstate because it was covered by a raging fire. The fire stretched across all of I-15 and was as high as the off ramp. Completely terrifying to see, but also a fairly cool experience (in hindsight). At one point we had to stop and wait for the firemen to tell us when we could continue on the Interstate. Then, as we drove 45 MPH a fire in the median was moving just as fast as we were. It's interesting to be on the Interstate before they close it because of wildfires and then to be caught by the fire.

I wonder if at I-70 in Utah it says "Baltimore 2200." That's your homework, everyone!

You know what happens when you assume . . .

We got a letter from the Maryland MVA (that's Motor Vehicle Administration, for all of you who are used to a "DMV;" heaven forbid local governments come up with one name for the same function) stating we didn't have insurance on our Camry and that we were going to have a lovely $300ish fine.

I hesitated calling the MVA because I cannot stand dealing with government workers. Most of the ones I deal with are belligerent, lazy, uninformed, and fairly unintelligent (though they insist on insinuating I'm the stupid one). Yup, I greatly generalize when it comes to government workers.

So instead I first called our insurance company and the Toyota dealership. Our insurance company is awesome and was very helpful, though they couldn't do anything to get us out of the fine. I called the Toyota dealership, and they gave me the usual dealership runaround. I'm supposed to hear from them tomorrow . . ..

Today I finally broke down and called the MVA, because the deadline for information is fast approaching. And lo and behold, I talked to someone who is allowed to think beyond the borders of our suspension warning, and she came up with a logical solution to our problem that did not involve a fine. AND she was nice.

Huh, who knew.

Do as I say, not as I do

There are many things I want to instill in my child(ren). Things I learned from experience, from observance, and from obedience. One thing I really hope my children have is compassion for and a defense of the underdog. I don't know why I've thought of the following experience recently, but it's actually been on my mind a lot.

Because I grew up in a relatively small city, I went to school with many of the same people for 12 years. One of the girls in my grade got picked on in junior high (it mortifies me I can't recall whether high school was easier for her). She was picked on a lot. One incident is vivid in my memory: the teacher's back was turned and a boy kicked her. The whole class erupted in laughter. She crawled under a table and accused, "You kicked me!", which only prompted more laughter from her classmates and tears from herself.

I can't remember why she was picked on. Who knows how bullies choose their victims. As I look at this girl with adult eyes, though, I realize there were probably things going on in her life that made her a target--abuse, neglect, money issues, etc. The adult in me cringes that my little 12ish-year-old self didn't even think about walking in her shoes and never came to her defense.

In school I was fortunately insulated from the nasty kids. I don't know why. Was it my type-A, take-no-crap personality? Was my confidence a deterrent because I wouldn't be a fun victim? Did my sassy attitude show I could take it and dish it back worse? I don't know. But I wish I had taken that blanket of social safety and wrapped it around that poor girl. I wish I had, at least once, told the kids to leave her alone.

I know why I did nothing: I didn't want to become the focus of the nasty little junior high hecklers. Isn't that horrible? Because I was afraid of being negatively noticed, I let it go. Granted, I never participated in being mean (I'm so glad I wasn't one of those kids), but I also never befriended or defended the friendless picked-on girl.

I hope I can teach Nadine the importance of defending those who are unable or unwilling to defend themselves. And I hope she's the kind of person who will do so, no matter the perceived cost.

Blue his house with a blue little window, and a blue Corvette, and everything is blue for him, and himself, and everybody around

We didn't plan it this way (and yes, the Type A part of me is CRINGING because planning wasn't involved), but both of our cars are blue.

They're pretty blue cars, like sapphires, which then makes me think of a certain dragon.

But despite the prettiness of the cars and the fact I thoroughly enjoy them both, we own two blue cars and we're now a Smurf family.

P.S. How many of you got the song in your head as soon as you read my post title? You're welcome.

I got all my sisters and me

My youngest sister graduated from high school on Wednesday, and I was able to fly out for a 10-day vacation and for the graduation.

We now have five of these sister graduation photos. They're some of my favorite photo ops. I need to track down the other ones and compare.

Being "home" showed me, again, how important relationships are with good family members (notice I say "good" family members; I do not believe you need to maintain a damaging relationship with someone just because he/she happens to be related to you).

I have been blessed with a wonderful family with whom I have fantastic relationships, and this is especially true with my sisters. They are some of my closest friends, and I miss them terribly. They are supportive, fun, wonderfully honest, independent, kind, accomplished, hilarious, righteous, and mind-blowingly intelligent. And beautiful.

Especially Ms. Valedictorian 2010.

I am so thankful we were sent to earth in family units, and that I was sent to a good one.

6 month well baby visit

"Well baby" is right--as of yesterday Nadine weighs 18 lbs. 13 oz. and is 26.5 inches long; those are in the 92nd (!!) and 87th percentiles, respectively. Sheesh. I'm so glad we got the car seat that holds a baby up to 30 pounds--I can't imagine having to buy another car seat six months after we started using the first one. Dang baby gear . . ..

In relation to her visit, here's the purpose of the post: I'm always interested that we hear what we want to hear (or what we decide to hear), and that we read into things that aren't there. Yesterday, in all our Nadine discussions with the doctor, the thing I took away is that I've been over-feeding her (the doctor did not say we'd been over-feeding; further, before anyone says, "Actually, your baby is a bit heavy," based on her percentages she's just a big, healthy girl). I think I read into it because I've been worried about how much to feed her.

Before I became a mom, I'd heard others say parenthood is a bunch of unknowns that you figure out as you go along. As someone who likes to plan every step of everything, it's been hard for me to realize parenthood is a bunch of unknowns that you figure out as you go along. I need a chart that says, "This feeding, feed your baby __ in __ ounces. Next feeding, give her __ in __ ounces," etc.

So because of all these feelings of uncertainty, I looked at her weight and took that to mean I was doing something wrong. Mommy guilt. But, she's still just a baby, and she's not underweight, so I'm not worrying about it. This is all part of the journey and the adventure.

Why do we read into things? It's so lame.

Things that make you go, Hmmmmmmm

It took me 30 years to realize you're supposed to mix Corn Starch

with a little bit of water before adding it to whatever you want to thicken. Instead I've always just been embarrassed by the Corn Starch clumps in my sauces.

I literally learned this trick a month ago. I don't even remember where I read it (maybe on the back of the Corn Starch container; I'm usually so good about reading directions . . .).

I wonder what else I don't know.

Stop and smell the roses

The flowers and plants in Hawaii are beautiful. I especially enjoy how gorgeous flowers are found in really random places. To Todd's amusement, and to my amazement that I'm becoming like my mom, I stop and stare (and have started to take pictures of) the cool plants we see.

Some of these are taken with our phones, most with our camera. These are plants we've seen on Oahu, on Kauai; these are plants we've seen on hikes as they are "in nature," and plants I pass on my outdoor walk route; some of these are located in parking lots, in front of a restaurant, and in front of the Army hospital; some are weirdly beautiful, some make me gasp; and there are a lot of hibiscus, which are some of the best things about Hawaii.

I've realized I need to document the things that make me stop, because I will forget about all this soon after we move. I'm already amazed how much we take for granted living here.

Aren't they gorgeous?

If ye are prepared ye shall not fear

We woke up this morning at 6:00 sharp to a piercing, loud, long siren. We'd heard it before, but not for a few months. We started grumbling about why we randomly hear that noise when, a few minutes later, my mom called to tell me a tsunami was heading to Hawaii.

We then waited and watched the news for hours, hoping and praying for what ended up being a very favorable tsunami event. Hawaii was very, very fortunate today.

I started thinking about emergency preparedness. We have 10 gallons of water, plus a box and a half of Costco bottled water. We have a year's worth of food storage. We have 72-hour emergency kits. We have batteries and portable radios. We have lots of extra toilet paper. Today I filled all of Nadine's bottles with water, just in case we lost service.

I am so grateful we have had and do have living prophets on the earth who command us to be prepared for an emergency. I know Thomas S. Monson is a prophet and that God speaks to us through him. I know it is important we be prepared for all kinds of disasters; financial, natural, emotional, spiritual, etc. (have you read this month's First Presidency message?).

Doctrine and Covenants 38:30 says, ". . . if ye are prepared ye shall not fear." I felt that today. The idea of an incoming tsunami was frightening, but I was comforted. We are fortunate to live on a hill and we are outside the "inundation areas;" further, as I stated earlier, we have stockpiled most of the supplies necessary to help us through a disaster.

When the tsunami warning was issued, residents flocked to the grocery stores, Costco, and gas stations to get food and water supplies and gas. The lines were horrendously long. I am so grateful church leaders have, for years, implored us to be prepared for emergencies. I was worried, but I wasn't fearful. Todd was home; we were together and we were prepared, and I knew we would be ok no matter what happened.

Today we were quite lucky and definitely blessed.

. . . 10 miles, uphill both ways, in the snow

I'm getting older (more mature); I even recently entered my third decade. Yesterday Todd and I were talking about strange it is we can now say, "Remember when _ was invented?". Todd has a friend who, in college, wrote about what a useless invention the iPod was, because of the battery. Oops.

Once during an activity in our singles ward, Todd wore a Thundercats shirt. A pathetically small number of people there knew what this symbol meant. Sad. Did you?

I have been thinking about the signs you're getting older. (And I'm not complaining about getting older. I actually like the things that come with getting older.)

Complete this sentence: You know you're really an adult when . . ..

I've come up with the following:

. . . you can't resist the appliance section of a store.

. . . you remember life without the Internet.

. . . you know what DOS is.

. . . you tsk the scandalous TV shows and movies of today.

. . . you can't sleep later than 7:30 AM.