My Halls Are Decked

I know that none of your lives would be complete without a look at my Christmas decorations. Don't ask me how I know, I just do. So I'm gonna do everyone a favor and show you some pictures. You're welcome.

I'm kind of obsessed with this little gnome-looking Santa that they have on everything at Target. So obsessed that I bought a cookie jar, a wall hanging and a little wooden guy. He's just so cute. And I had to buy the penguin to go with him, cause otherwise he'd get lonely in the cold kitchen window.

I also make sure to get my money's worth out of my stockpile of scrapbook paper, so I used it to make some cute wall hangings.

Santa delivers our presents early. That's why there's already some stuff in our stockings. We just have to promise not to open it before Christmas. And my cell phone isn't part of my decorations.

Here's just a few of our favorite ornaments. I don't think I need to tell you who likes each one. They're pretty self-explanatory.

We are done shopping, almost done wrapping, and done decorating. Only 25 days till Christmas now.

Livin' the Dream

I never realized how glamorous being a mom is. I mean, what other job do you get to change two dirty diapers in a row, clean up Dorito puke, then untangle a slinky? Not to mention the countless hours of my life I've gotten to spend watching cartoons. Just this morning we watched 3 episodes of Wow Wow Wubbzy, James and the Giant Peach and G-Force. G-Force might possibly be Zach Galifinakis's best movie so far.

What non-parents don't realize is that in between the diapers and puke and annoying cartoons are complete, perfect moments that make everything worth it. I'd clean up Ava's Dorito puke twenty times in exchange for one sweet baby hug where she lays her chubby cheek down on my shoulder. And I'll untangle Alana's slinky everyday for the rest of my life as long as its always followed by a high-pitched and squeaky I love you Mommy!

Being a mom is worth the breaking up fights over a Woody doll, watching Dora, wiping snotty noses, sacrificing sleep, stretch marks, and even the dreaded Dorito puke. They cry and have the stinkiest butts in the world, but I still think they're okay. At the end of the day I have two ladies who I love, and they don't come without boogers. I was hoping they would, but no such luck.

Thanksgiving: Tales of Food & Football

We had a pretty decent Thanksgiving. We have been so focused on Christmas shopping that Thanksgiving kind of snuck up on me. Before I knew it I was in Walmart, the day before Thanksgiving, fighting my way through the crowds to buy a bag of cranberries. I survived to tell the tale and even to eat too much on Thanksgiving.

We did our usual routine. A couple of hours at David's grandparents, for the first meal of the day, which I skipped, because I was saving myself for my dad's gravy and turkey. I did manage to squeeze in a piece of my own pie that I brought, just to sample it and make sure it wasn't poison. Plus it was the first thing I made out of my two giant pumpkins that I cooked and pureed, so I needed to do a comparison. I still have 8 cups of pumpkin in my freezer to use up. Yikes!

After a few hours at our first house, we went to my dad's, making sure to get there before the Cowboys game started. The Cowboys play every Thanksgiving, so since I've been with David we've always had to be somewhere with a big TV before the game starts.

That's where my eating for the day began. We got there when the food was all ready to eat, so we dug in right away, after listening to my brother-in-law try to find a substitute for nourish & strengthen our bodies in his prayer. He needs a prayer thesaurus. I would've eaten more turkey, but we only cooked one for reasons unknown, even though there was about 25 people there. No leftover turkey at our house this year. Then I moved on to pie. We always have so much dessert that my stepmom complains it won't get eaten, but that wasn't an issue this year. The jello and pecan pie went fast, the chocolate and pumpkin were the only things left over.

While the boys watched football, the girls played Apples to Apples, which I didn't manage to win any rounds of!, and the kids played outside in spite of the cold temperature. Sixty degrees is cold in AZ! The only kids left inside were the 3 babies, and Ava probably would've gone outside if I let her.

The Cowboys lost, so David was depressed. He's had a good run though. They've won at least five Thanksgiving games in a row, and it was a closer game then they thought it would be.

At the end of the day we were all tired and full. That's how you know you had a successful Thanksgiving. And I was most thankful for the fact that my ladies fell asleep on the car ride home.

A cousin group shot. No one looked at the same camera either time.

My two ladies.

Holidays are exhausting. 

A rare family photo. Last time we took one was Thanksgiving 2008. Maybe that's why I'm so adamant that my family takes one at every occasion.




























I really like this photo. If only the sun weren't hitting our faces at a weird angle. But halftime is the only time David will come outside to take a picture. Beggars can't be choosers I guess.

Feeling Festive

I caved. We put up our Christmas tree the weekend before Thanksgiving. The pure joy on these ladies faces when we turned the lights on made it worth it.

Then we all covered it in our eclectic mix of ornaments. We have 1,000 Dallas Cowboys ornaments, 1,000 Disneyland ornaments, and the rest are a random mix of stuff we've gathered over the years. Some of them were even mine when I was a little kid.

Christmas is definitely more exciting when you're a parent. You get to be Santa. You can spoil your kids. That's what we do anyway. Then you eat too many cookies, in the name of Santa, and play with the 1,000 new toys you just bought. Also on the list of things you do as a parent at Christmas: Fill ten garbage bags with toy wrappers that required wire cutters to open, buy matching Christmas morning pajamas for your ladies, watch the Grinch before its even Thanksgiving, we just watched it right now, and wonder how your kids grew up so quickly.

Closet Candy Lover

I just found Alana in her bedroom closet, eating a forbidden Reese's peanut butter tree. Forbidden because she already had four and I said no more.

I guess she takes after me more than I realized. Candy was the driving force behind many things when I was a kid. I behaved throughout the entire grocery store just for the chance to ask for candy at the register. Asking took all the nerve I had, so there was no way I was gonna chance hearing Did you behave? Um, maybe.

Candy was the only reason I could justify dressing up as a vampire every Halloween as a kid. Hello, they give you candy if you're wearing a costume.

But mostly candy was the motivation for my lone lifetime shoplifting experience. I wanted candy. No one would buy it for me. So in line to pay for groceries at Abco, I put a Snickers in my pocket. I was petrified that it would set off the shoplifting detector things at the door, but it didn't. They don't really bother putting those sensors on candy bars, but I didn't know that.

That candy sat in my pocket like a big half melted Scarlet Letter, till we got home and I could sneak away to my top bunk to eat it as quietly as possible. Have you ever tried to unwrap and eat a candy bar in complete silence? Not an easy task.

I was on my bed, trying to chew without moving my jaw, when my sister came in. She was at the store, she knew my mom hadn't bought any candy. I was faced with a very difficult decision. Share or get ratted out. So I shared my stolen but still delicious candy.

Given my mostly cautious and logical nature, I didn't shoplift again. If I couldn't even eat the candy out in the open and enjoy it then it definitely wasn't worth it.

Candy stealing advice: Don't let your sister catch you or you'll have to share. Also: Steal something that won't get stuck in your teeth, otherwise you'll be picking stolen peanuts out of your teeth the rest of the day. Or you could just pay a dollar for the candy so you don't have to hide it.

I'll Be the Judge of That

I can sometimes maybe on occasion not on purpose be a tad little teeny-tiny bit judgmental. I can't always help it, its just the way my brain works. I'm working on it, but I'm a work-in-progress.

I judge people who drink, especially if they drink too much, because I just don't see the point. It tastes gross and makes you do dumb stuff.

I judge people whose kids look like they just rolled out of bed. But I'm a parent. I know that little girls don't always let you brush their hair. And sometimes they insist on wearing pink shorts and pink Romo jerseys and pink shoes. I do take it seriously though when its the middle of winter and I see kids without a jacket and its freezing outside. That deserves a little judgement.

I judge people who can't spell, because its always come so naturally to me I don't realize its not second nature to others. I seriously proof-read everything. Billboards, marquees, other people's blogs, facebook updates. I pick out the typos and shake my head, wondering how people got through middle school, when they can't even spell school.

I judge people who smoke. I don't understand what makes someone start smoking in the first place. You had to know you'd get addicted, now you're paying $6 for a pack of cigarettes. Bet you're rethinking that decision. Smoking is disgusting, no matter what.

I judge other people's fashion choices. Don't people own mirrors? I wonder what they were thinking leaving the house in that mesh tank top and fanny pack. But maybe they thought they looked good.

I judge people for watching dumb stuff on TV. I don't watch that much TV, my kids are TV tyrants and I just can't justify sitting on my butt all day to watch stuff that will not make anyone any smarter. And I just don't get why people like Dancing with the Stars. That's the worst show ever.

I judge people by the contents of their shopping carts. Why are people only buying horrible fattening convenience food and zero fruits and vegetables? Hamburger Helper isn't helping anyone. Just cause something is convenient doesn't mean its healthy. I may eat my share of cookies, but I also eat more than enough fruits and vegetables, and so do my kids. Same goes for David, even if that means I have to peel an orange for him. Fish sticks and macaroni are not a balanced meal.

I judge people with different opinions than me. How could you possibly think that? What is the deal? I suppose they're entitled to their opinion, even if they have no facts to back it up. I'm not changing my mind though.

I'm not trying to judge people. I don't really want to. But I'm not sure I know how to stop. Sometimes our mean girl society enables judgmental behavior. If a guy has lots of girlfriends he is applauded, but when a girl even thinks about more than one boy she is a slut. We're all quick to judge each other, without knowing anything about the circumstances.

And maybe my opinion isn't the only one that matters. Some people think Hamburger Helper is helpful.

Do Not Open Till December 25th

I don't care much for procrastination. I do the dishes right after dinner, do my homework one week before its due, and vacuum first thing every morning. That's why David and I are always done with our Christmas shopping super early.

Over the past few months we bought several gifts for our ladies here and there. An EasyBake oven, some board books for my bookworm Ava, this and that. We were planning to go Black Friday but impatience got the best of us. So we planned on going Saturday morning. Someone got impatient yesterday, since it was payday and money was burning a hole in his pocket, so we went last night. We accomplished most of our shopping, but not all. Due to time constraints, like the stores were closing because we went at nighttime cause someone just couldn't wait, I didn't spend nearly as much time at Target as I would've preferred. So now we have to go again. And again in December when we have more money.

Since our presents are bought ridiculously early, they spend a large amount of time under the tree. Collecting dust. The suspense builds. At least for our kids it does, cause David and I pick out our own presents. We're lame and cool like that. I blame my obsession with new jeans, because they require being tried on. And David likes to pick out his own Christmas Cowboys jersey every year. So the presents sit there. Santa makes an early stop to check us off his list, that's just one less thing he has to do on Christmas Eve.

We've always bought presents early. And always wrapped them and put them under the tree to wait for Christmas. Except that one time. The first year David and I were together we had large piles of presents for each other underneath our tree. It was my first parent-less, as in I was free from the tyranny of my parents Christmas rules about waiting, adult Christmas. We went all out. We both spent way too much money on each other and all of our gifts were a surprise. The suspense was killing us. So we caved.

Several days before Christmas we just decided Hey we're grown-ups! Who's gonna stop us from opening all of our presents right now? What harm will it do? It will be awesome! So we did it. And it was awesome. Loads of new gifts almost a week before Christmas. Why didn't we think of this earlier? We're gonna do this from now on!

The awesomeness was almost unbearable. I got a DVD player. This was like, 2001, so it was pretty cutting edge. We were awesome. No regrets. Till Christmas morning. Santa came early, which meant on Christmas morning we just sat around an empty tree, no presents to unwrap. It looked like the Grinch had already gotten there. No presents, no roast beast, nothing. It was infinitely depressing. Sure we had gotten presents, like a week ago. The novelty of the new stuff had already worn off. We were just adults, and the empty stockings and lack of presents were a big reminder of that.

After that we never opened presents early again. Opening them Christmas Eve night doesn't count as early, in case you were wondering. If you wanna feel like a kid again, you've gotta play by the same rules as kids. No peeking. You'd better leave cookies and milk out for Santa. He tends to get mad if you forget. And never, under any circumstances, open your presents the week before Christmas. Its just not the same.

Liar Liar Pants on Fire

As children we're taught to tell the truth. Then when we grow up we teach our children the same thing. Don't lie. Be honest. Always tell the truth. You know. But if we're being honest with ourselves, we're all liars.

If someone asks you if these pants make their butt look big, and they do, it looks huge, what do you say? Yes in fact your butt looks ginormous. No. You lie. You look fine. Great. Spectacular.

When children ask you about the existence of Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny? You lie through your teeth. Santa Claus will only bring you presents if you're a good girl. He will fly here in his magical sleigh with his flying reindeer and slide down the chimney and eat the cookies and milk you left for him and leave you lots of presents that didn't cost your parents any money. Santa breaks the bank around here. He's pretty generous. But he will definitely eat the cookies and milk. The Tooth Fairy will leave you money under your pillow if you leave your rotten baby tooth for her. As long as mommy remembers to get cash out, or the Tooth Fairy might be writing a check. The Easter Bunny will leave you a basket of candy just for the heck of it. That's what Easter's about right? A basket full of candy and hidden eggs.

When the beloved family pet dies? Fluffy went to live on a farm in the country. He'll be happier there. There's lots of fields to run around on and horses to chase. What do the people who live on farms in the country tell their kids when a pet dies?
When someone asks if you liked the present they bought for you, even though you didn't? Sure. It was great. I loved it. I always wanted a Snuggie/ChiaPet/stinky scented lotion that gives me a rash. Awesome. We lie to spare people's feelings. Then you return it for store credit. At least I do.

When invited to go somewhere we really don't want to go? We invent an excuse. I have a dr. appointment. I have to wash my hair. I can't go out after dark. I'm not feeling well. People rarely say I don't want to. It feels like we're sparing someone's feelings by giving what we consider a more acceptable excuse.

Sometimes we lie because we think its better. We don't want to hurt someone's feelings, we want our kids to believe in impossible magic, we don't want to be rude, we are scared to tell the truth.

Eventually if we keep lying to people they might not believe anything we say. People will only believe lies for so long. If you say you're going to do something ten times and you never do, then no one will believe you anymore. Keep crying wolf and someday that wolf is really going to appear and everyone will downplay its arrival, because you said it got here a long time ago.

Are we wrong to tell our kids to believe in Santa, cause its a lie? Or should we keep telling them things to try and extend the short period of time where they believe everything we say? I would rather believe that a fat man in a red suit comes to my house on Christmas Eve and eats the cookies and leaves presents than believe that everyone I know has been lying to me my whole life.

Mind Your Own Beeswax

At alternating times in my life I've considered myself a private person. Sometimes I feel open, like I don't mind sharing stuff about myself with other people. Other times I've kept stuff to myself, or only talked about it with David. Husbands are convenient for stuff like that. I don't always want people to know things about me. Its ironic that I'm saying that on the internet where its available for the whole universe to read.

I've always alternated between sharing and not sharing.

When I got my period for the first time, I told no one. No one. Don't ask how that's possible cause you don't wanna know. But I lived in a house where there were tampons available, so any info was on a need to know basis. But in a group setting of girls who are all talking about their period? I'm more than willing to talk about it.

When faced with publicly buying feminine hygiene products at ages 13-15, I was embarassed. When I was in a public bathroom and had to unwrap something noisy, I would unwrap it as slowly and quietly as humanly possible. Its not like anyone else in the bathroom cared, but I did it anyway.

When my youngest brother used to loudly ask what vague feminine hygiene commercials were about, we wouldn't answer. How is he supposed to know that the impossibly happy woman riding her bike, with her hair blowing in the wind, is on her period? Boys just don't get that. My sister and I just told him to ask someone else, and he probably wasn't quite happy with the answer he eventually got.

As private as I've always been about random things, I think I'm the most private about childbirth. Not that I'm unwilling to talk about it and share details, cause I will. I'll tell you about stitches vs. no stitches and which I prefer, I'll tell you about the nurse asking me how I managed to shave my legs and paint my toenails when I was nine months pregnant, I'll tell you about David eating a popsicle while I was in labor with Alana and how I'm still kind of mad about that cause I was hungry.

Those things aren't what I consider to be the private things about childbirth. Not that they're not personal, but I'm open to talking about them.

I just feel like when that little person comes into the world and I get to meet them for the first time, I don't need everybody and their brother and uncle and sisters-neighbors-friend there at the hospital. When both of my girls were born it was just me and David, plus a handful of medical professionals who've now seen me half-naked. We were the only ones there to meet that new little person. We made her, so what claim does anyone else have? We enjoyed peace and quiet and priceless moments with our ladies without the interruption of people knocking on the door asking how much longer. I don't feel like there's a need for everyone I know to be in the waiting room. What do they bring to the table?

Not that I don't understand why other people might want their entire extended family there waiting, or want someone else in the delivery room. But the only person I need is David, even if he complains that the chair is hard or he has a hangnail. He's strong enough to hold up my leg, so he'll do. I want that time with just us and our baby, and the next time we have one I'll want it the same way. No inlaws or distractions. Just us watching the Daily Show and waiting to have a baby.

Why Bother Asking?

Sometimes I feel like half of my time is spent asking questions no one has the answer to. Not existential questions like Whats the purpose of life? or Why are we here?. I'm not that deep. My questions are more of the I have kids so weird stuff happens without a logical explanation nature.

Sometimes I'm a walker with tennis balls and a weird love of Murder She Wrote away from being a senile old woman who doesn't know what day it is. Last Saturday I wandered around my house for at least 30 minutes searching for a pair of socks I got out to put on Ava. I eventually gave up and got out a second pair. Two hours later I opened the fridge to put away groceries. Guess what I found? Ava's socks. Enter unanswered questions. How did they get there? Am I losing my mind? Why would I put socks in the fridge?

Other questions are more based on other people's unexplicable actions. Why is there an empty HotPocket box in the freezer? Where are the stupid ZhuZhu pets? Why did I just spend 20 minutes looking for the ZhuZhu pets if Alana's not even gonna play with them? Why do I even bother vacuuming? Who's cheeto handprint is that on the couch? Why do my ladies like cheetos so much? How'd you get poop on your sleeve? Why is Snow White wearing Ariel's clothes? How many times are we gonna watch Toy Story 3 today?

There's never a logical answer to my questions. I don't know why David left the HotPocket box in the freezer if it was empty. I don't know why they like cheetos. I find them repulsive. I really don't know why I left Ava's socks in the fridge. Maybe I should worry less about the answers to my questions and instead focus on living in the moment, cause maybe if living in the moment finds me leaving socks in the fridge then who am I to question it?

A Celeb Sighting and Other News

 Look! Its Astrid from How to Train Your Dragon!

Astrid has recently been spotted around our house since her mommy bought some clearance Halloween costumes from Wal-Mart for $1.50.
























Astrid enjoys watching Toy Story 3, playing with toys and eating popsicles. She prefers to watch movies two or three times a day till her mommy gets tired of them and buys a new movie.

 In crazy baby news, someone here has learned to get on the couch by herself. She uses the corner of the sectional and makes herself at home. There was one tragic day when her mommy let her fall face first onto the floor, just because she kept running on the couch. Its a cruel world.

Once on the couch she likes to read, relax, and even run around a little, just to squeeze in some cardio.
















Naps are now taken on the recliner, because she was hanging out of the swing and looked like a giant. She's so peaceful when she sleeps it almost makes me forget about her brattiness.

 Taking a picture with both kids has proven nearly impossible lately, because Ava must be wrangled into staying still. This usually involves Alana restraining her, which just makes Ava mad. Or she was just having a bad hair day and didn't want to be photographed, I'm not sure which.

 We made some awesome turkey hands. Can you guess which one is David's? While you're guessing, try to figure out who's idea it was to make them. I'll give you a hint, it wasn't me.

Ava thinks she should grow up at a faster pace. She wants to do everything Alana does, even play dress up. And if you ask her a question she will usually agree with you, in the form of nodding, or more recently, raising her hand.
Who wants a cookie? Ava raises her hand.
Who wants to watch cartoons? Ava raises her hand.
Who thinks Daddy stinks? Ava raises her hand. She's quite agreeable these days.

Being a Parent is Scary

The day I brought Alana home from the hospital I had a sudden realization: I was now responsible for her safety and well being. Crap! At the hospital, with nurses helping me and people bringing me all my meals reality hadn't quite set in. It was easy to overlook the fact that I was now a parent. I was hopelessly in love but so naive. Once I got home and settled in it hit me. Like a ton of dirty diapers.

Its not just the parenting part that seemed scary. The growing up part wasn't looking that appealing either. I had to now put someone else's needs ahead of mine. I found myself wondering Who's idea was this anyway? Oh that's right, nobody's. Alana was a surprise. But I liked her so much I had a second one on purpose.

Slowly but surely I found my footing in parenthood. I eventually started to wash my hair again. Alana eventually, at like age two, slept through the night.

When we decided to have a second baby it wasn't without its hardships. I got pregnant right away but had a miscarriage just as quickly. Every month until I got pregnant again was like torture. The very sight of a pregnant woman or brand new baby made me want to curl up in a ball and cry. I even did a couple of times.

Once I was pregnant with Ava I learned that parenting isn't the only scary part, pregnancy is too. I was hesitant to tell anyone I was pregnant, I didn't want to jinx myself. After a few terrifying months of me waiting it out, worrying and trying but failing to not get too attached to the baby I was carrying, we finally told people.

Then it came time to find out the gender. David thought it was a boy. I was hoping for a girl. The ultrasound tech announced the gender, but left the room to get the doctor. They were mildly concerned at the presence of what they called soft markers for possible birth defects. They said it was probably nothing. Don't get too worried. Just wait for the results of your blood test.

Once you implant the possibility of something in my head its not going anywhere. Its like a seed, its just gonna grow. Everyday I waited my imagination just ran wild with possibilities. I wondered if something was wrong with her. I couldn't even look at the ultrasound pictures without crying. When the results came back that she was healthy I was more relieved than I'd ever been in my life.

I savored every minute of being pregnant with Ava after that. I welcomed the heartburn and feet in my ribcage. I loved my belly. I was just grateful to have her.

When she was born I was so happy and in love again. A new baby to love and kiss. You really forget how small they start out because they grow so quickly. I decided the first time I held Ava that I wanted a third. No hurry, I'm just not done having babies quite yet. If I hadn't lost one baby I wouldn't have Ava. She is the prize for my patience.

With two kids comes more work. More laundry. Increased need for multi-tasking skills. More laundry. Did I mention that already. One extra hand to hold at the store. Two kids in my grocery cart, asking for popsicles. And more worries.

The worries I had when they were tiny have evolved. I still watch their chests rise and fall when they sleep, but the constant fear of SIDS that followed me home from the hospital has faded. Now I just want them to be happy and safe, but I can't protect them forever. Someday they'll go off on their own and I can't catch them when they fall. Can't run to your mommy your whole life.

As scary as childhood is, with skinned knees, kindergarten and the occasional fever, the eventual impending teenage years leave me mortified. I know they're a long ways out, but the way time passes when you're a parent they may as well be tomorrow. Teenagers are like wild animals. They can be trained to perform tricks, but they're never completely tamed. They can turn on you when you least expect it.

The what-ifs of the teenage years terrify me. What if there's a car accident? What if that boy breaks her heart? What if he doesn't? What if she gets bullied? What if she gets pregnant? What if she hates me? What if she wants to go to college far away? What will I do when she grows up and moves away? What if she hangs out with the wrong people? What if she smokes? What if she does drugs or drinks? What if she doesn't listen to anything I've taught her?

Those things are all a possibility. They could happen. They might. They might not. What is entirely possible and probable is that I will make parenting mistakes. I will run short on patience. I might be grouchy sometimes. I don't always feel like having a tea party. I'm getting kind of sick of watching Toy Story 3. I might grumble under my breath about my mother-in-law in front of them. I don't always brush their teeth before bed. Sometimes we have cookies for breakfast, oatmeal of course. I might let Ava fall off the couch because she refuses to sit and wants to run around on it instead. I'm just hoping for beautiful, smart, funny, happy, successful, well-adjusted adults in the end. Is that too much to ask for? That's what my parents ended up with, right?

I'm equal parts scared and hopeful for the future, but I'm more of a live in the moment kind of girl most of the time, so I think I'll be okay. The hardest parts aren't necessarily behind me. There's a long road, it might be winding and it might have a few curves, but hopefully there won't be anything I can't handle. Unless I have a boy next. Then I'm screwed.

There's No I in Team

There was a point in my life when I was naive about sports. I didn't know what a triple-double was. I thought a grand slam was a meal at Denny's. I didn't know what a first down was, or that its the same thing as first and ten. I never watched football at Thanksgiving, instead opting for the parade or whatever Christmas movie was being played prematurely.

Once I met David my view of sports changed. As in, my non-existent viewing of sports increased drastically. I found my Thanksgiving planned around when the Cowboys play, because they play every Thanksgiving. And I'm now more fluent in sports talk. The words special teams, flea-flicker, and blitz all have a different meaning to me now.

Out of all of the things that were foreign to me about sports, the most mysterious was We. I was completely unaware that every sports team actually has millions and millions, or just a few if you're the Cardinals, of members. Every Sunday when the Cowboys play, its not just them playing the game. We are right there with them. We watch every play. We cringe when Romo gets hurt. We get depressed when they lose again. We never turn our backs on the team, even though they're one and six. We get extra depressed when we go all the way to Phoenix to see them on our birthday, then they lose. (We doesn't necessarily include me, but it always includes David).

I guess loyalty is a quality that isn't lacking in David, because no matter what the Cowboys do, We never stop loving them. Even when they have a bad year, We still want a Dez Bryant jersey for Christmas.

Some Thoughts on Politics

Disclaimer: I'm a democrat. Almost as liberal as possible. I make no apologies. But if you don't agree, don't read this.

I am so glad that mid-term elections are over. I'm not exactly happy with all the results, but you can't win 'em all. I'm talking about you Jan Brewer.

I was so tired of hearing and seeing negative political commercials. There is so much mud-slinging that by the end of every election just the sight of political signs annoys me. Here's a thought politicians: Instead of focusing on what you consider to be the negative aspects of your opponent, how about you instead focus on you. What are you going to bring to the table? What can you do differently than them?

I hate that everyone is so concerned with their opponent that they don't even bother to tell us how they'll be any different. And I couldn't escape. There were signs all over the place forcing negative comments about the incumbent Congress woman. She forced OBAMA-care on you. She opposes SB-1070. She will eat your children alive. (I made one of those up. Guess which?). First of all, you can't fault someone for voting with their party. She voted the way she promised to vote. Just leave her alone. She won in spite of your mud-slinging.

Arizona was in the news a lot this year for some controversial "anti-immigration" laws. SB-1070. It basically gave cops the right to ask anyone for proof of citizenship, just because. Some parts of it were repealed so it is slightly less controversial. I am opposed to this bill. Are we not all descendants of immigrants? Your grandparents were probably anchor babies. Everyone's ancestors had to come here from another country at some point, so why do people hate immigrants so much? Not everyone who crosses that border is a criminal drug mule looking to break the law. Some people just want a better life, or a job doing something none of us want to do, like migrant farm work.

Our country is always so divided. Everyone is so I'm right and you're wrong and I'm not going to compromise no matter what. People only have their own best interests at heart. People are not willing to take responsibility for their actions, they are only willing to pass the blame onto the next person. The Bush Tax cuts were set to expire in the next president's term. That's how they were designed. But now people want to blame the current administration for raising taxes. You can't be anti-federal defecit and oppose taxing the richest people in the country.

And tea party people. Seriously. You can't be anti-taxes and then hold your rallies in a public park. You can't be anti-taxes and drive on public roads, send your kids to public school, go to the public library. Where do you think the money came from to pay for those things?

Its fine if you dislike the president, I personally don't care much for George Bush. But Obama was elected, he is our president and you should respect that. He inherited this mess. It took several years for our economy to reach the state its in, its gonna take more than 18 months to fix it. He is not a socialist, a muslim or Hitler.

America just needs a little more moderation. Fewer crazy people dressed up as the Statue of Liberty holding up a sign saying Get your government hands off of my Medicare. I've got news for you people. Medicare is a government program. Don't use your Social Security check to pay for anti-government signs. We need fewer crazy people saying they're pro-life and then killing an abortion doctor. Fewer people who flat-out refuse to compromise. Everyone is entitled to their opinion and we should all respect that.

Maybe I'm so liberal and tolerant because I grew up in a place that wasn't. I wasn't the same religion as everyone else in my small town, I wasn't any religion at all. I'm not saying I was bullied or anything because of it, but sometimes I just felt different. Sometimes people weren't allowed to hang out with me because their parents thought I'd have lower standards, which was so untrue.

I don't know what my kids will think of politics when they grow up, but Alana knows the president by name and I just hope they learn to respect other people, no matter what their opinions. I'm just hoping for tolerance.