Rising from the ashes... or the cheddar bunny dust...

So. Yeah. Um…
You know what I hate? When someone writes on their blog regularly for a long time and then they’re all ………. *crickets*…………
And you’re all “WTF? Are you DEAD?”
And then they come back with this lame-o “Sorry… life so busy” post. What-ev.
So I won’t do that.
Yes, I am busy. But duh-fucking-huh, right? I have a two-year-old, and a house, and a husband, and a part-time job. But plenty of work-at-home parents make the time to do things like blog and exercise and even shower (or so I hear).
Problem is I haven’t been much able to do any of that. Problem is I’ve spent the last two months or so having to kick my own ass just to get the hell out of bed and be a semi-decent parent. And when I wasn’t trying to talk my racing brain into getting its proverbial shit together, I was beating myself up for all I haven’t done well or done at all.
Yep. Depression. Blah, blah, blah, lather, rinse, repeat.
Without going into details, let me just say that I was cosmically destined to be under the care of a psychiatric professional someday. I was born to two people with all sorts of whack-a-do birds hanging out in their family trees. Add to that my own issues and well… yeah… my parents should have been saving for SSRI’s, not college.
But I am in capable professional care and I’m blessed with amazingly supportive people all around me. This week, I’ve felt more like myself, my old self, than I have in a few months. And I think that’s enough said on that topic. So many bloggers (Mommy & otherwise) have addressed this topic more eloquently and descriptively than I ever could.
So let’s talk about this mothering business, shall we?
Specifically, let’s talk about how insanely awesome my kid is turning out. And no, this is not one of those posts where I tell you about how she never cries and always minds and is reading Camus in preparation for her interview with Little Geniuses Preschool Academy for Future Anxiety-Addled Adults.
My kid? Well, she’s a one-woman wrecking crew- a veritable tornado of activity with incredible comedic timing who sings and dances her way through the day leaving a trail of toys, crayons, and Cheddar Bunny crumbs in her wake. She is always a mess, frequently naked, and sometimes more than just a little defiant.
And she is perfect.
Don’t get me wrong- my kid is not badly behaved. I will sure as fire correct her for any of that crap. But I think a lot of parents are quick to correct and worry about the wrong stuff. Clothes wash, kids can be bathed, and a little clutter never killed anyone. I have tried to be the mother who lets my kid explore and who isn’t constantly barking for her to be quiet or clean. My child is incredibly spirited, very independent, and relatively fearless. My policy has been this: if she won’t break anything important, harm herself, harm someone else, or be rude… well, game on. I do not want the child who sits quietly in a perfectly-pressed outfit and will not try to grab that shiny thing that looks tempting. Because those kids grow up to be the adults who sit quietly and never take the big risks that make life really interesting. They never question, never jump, never fall, and live (sometimes angrily, sometimes thoughtlessly) in a beige world.
Not my baby.
It sure as hell ain’t anarchy in the pre-K at my house, though. My child has boundaries. I expect her to be polite. I put her in time-out when she disobeys me. She has bedtimes and routines and expectations. We teach patience, we teach kindness, we teach respect.
But if you show up to my house and my little Wild Woman of Borneo is naked save for the fingerpaints she applied to her body and she’s doing laps of the downstairs singing the song she made up about Daddy and a frog and the golf ball place… well, that’s par for the course at our house. Because someday all these wild women antics will (hopefully) translate to an adult woman who knows which of the 10,000 rules and constraints the world tries to put on her are important and which ones are bullshit. And she will have nurtured the freedom and the spirit to call the bullshit.
From Margaret Thatcher Ulrich:
“Well-behaved women rarely make history.”
Right on, Chick.

Just another evening at our house...

Husband: "Look Vivi, it's a full hour of Dora!!"

Me: "Is it Dora and the Crystal Kingdom?"

Husband: "uh... I don't know... it looks like Dora is running around with Ron Jeremy..."

Me: "Is Ron Jeremy wearing a crown?"

Husband: "Yeah."

Me: "Yep, that's Dora and the Crystal Kindom."

Husband: "Uh...King Ron is carrying around what appears to be a ... um... you know"

Me: "Yeah- that's his scepter... as it were..."

Husband: "So it's not a studded you-know-what?"

Me: "No, not so much."

Halloween Picture Bonanza!

And now... because everyone is the house is sick and I barely have the brainpower to keep myself from drooling... gratuitous Halloween photos.

Completely Frivolous & Sacrilegious Fluff

Husband and I have come up with some alternative names for the swine flu:
Pancetta Pandemic
Pork Plague
Bacon Bubonic
and my favorite...
Fatback Fever

And from last night, this conversation:

Husband: Why are you so mean* to me?
Me: I was sent by the Lord to test you. Jesus told me so. In an Eggo.
Husband: Yeah, well he told me to tell you to knock it off.... an Eggo? Really?
Me: It was all I could come up with.

Mean = telling him to shush so as not to wake the rustling baby with his full-volume description of an ESPN commercial.

Mother of the Year

You know it's been a banner day when you have to call the Poison Control Center and say "So... my 20-month-old just took a swig of some KY massage oil... what's that gonna do to my day?"
The answer is not much. Maybe a really sludgey diaper later, but no real harm done. Actually, I'm enjoying my child smelling like "Bali Moonlight" as opposed to the usual eau de A&D ointment.
What's really bothering me is that this was my THIRD (yes, third) call to Poison Control since the child got mobile. For the record, Old Spice deodorant and L'Oreal mineral makeup are also both relatively harmless snacks for the tots. Aren't you glad I can provide these handy factoids? *SIGH*

Diary of a Mad Housewife

The story of my last few weeks is one of hot steamy chaos topped with a heaping melty helping of stress and sprinkled with crunchy annoying complications. A delicious recipe for Mama Meltdown! Mmmm… All that came to a nice hot boiling messy head on the phone with my Mom last week. I cried, she soothed, and then I changed a leaking poopy diaper. Let’s use last Wednesday as an example.
I was in the second hour of time on the phone with a certain wireless carrier that merged with my carrier and proceeded to overcharge me and refuse to answer emails and can’t tell me how to update my Blackberry software and …. The dogs were acting as my defacto childcare, keeping Viv’s harpy-esque, ear-shattering shrieking to the happy kind. Oh, and did I mention I was cleaning the kitchen and answering work emails at the same time? I had just emptied the silverware basket and turned to use the laptop. In that short span… maybe 45 seconds… somehow things went terribly wrong.
When I turned back around, the silverware basket was gone. But I needn’t have wondered about it’s location for long. At that moment, my child and the dogs came thundering through in the 1st Annual Mayhem Parade. My demure little flower of a girl-child was naked from the waist down, having removed both her shorts and diaper. She was brandishing the missing silverware basket over her head like a hockey player making his rounds of the ice with the Stanley Cup. In hot pursuit behind my sweet baby were BOTH dogs, one barking as though she’d treed a ‘coon (as they say around these parts) and the other sporting a box of Annie’s Chocolate Bunnies in his mouth. They roared through, knocking over the trash can and stepping on BOTH my feet as they went.
I followed the wild rumpus crew into the den and it was then that I realized the true extent of the festivities. That box of Bunnies was empty, it turns out, and the bodies were strewn across the den floor like a little bunny Jonestown. Both dogs were now feasting on the carnage. My daughter stood in the middle of it all, pants-less and gleeful, shrieking her excitement to the neighborhood.
And then, then she peed. Down her leg. Onto the carpet. Soggying a couple of errant bunnies beneath her feet.
Fast forward to the end of the week. It was no surprise when my Mom emailed and oh-so-casually mentioned that she didn’t have choir practice this week and they really wanted to see the baby and so, hey, why don’t they cruise on up for a short visit? To which I responded SWEET MONKEYS AND RED WINE, WHY AREN’T YOU IN THE CAR YET????
They arrived Monday and spent the week amusing my daughter, fixing my car, and providing excellent meals. They left this morning. Viv and I both cried.

Absence makes your readership go wander...

*SIGH*

So where have I been? I wish I had something sexy to report, but no, I do not. Let me put it to you this way...

A few night's ago I dreamed I was doing laundry pretty much all night. I woke up thinking "dammit! Couldn't my subconscious come up with something a little more glamorous?" But it's not my poor subconscious's fault. I mean, it's not like my conscious self has been providing any good raw material. The dancey dance segment of Yo Gabba Gabba is about as hot as the party gets around here these days.

But I do have some exciting news from a life other than my own! One of my old college cronies has co-authored a book! And it got published! Holla! (Do the kids still say "holla"?)

Behold....

Beyond Heaving Bosoms: The Smart Bitches Guide to Romance Novels

Sarah Wendell had the great misfortune of being a total gee- er, I mean, English major with me. The book is awesome, she is awesome, and if you don't buy it, well, woe be unto you is all I'm gonna say. Serious Biblical proportions WOE! (OK... not really... no actual woe...but it is an excellent and funny read.)

Later today (or maybe tomorrow) my thoughtful analysis (read: fragmented rant) on the Sarah Palin vs. Levi Johnston smackdown.

Ciao!

Oh wait... I forgot... your daily dose of adorable.

For Sale...or Trade... Hell, I'll pay YOU.

Hey there! Yes, you! Step right up for the DEAL OF THE CENTURY!


What's that you say? You're a doctor/sanitation worker/teacher/farmer and you need to get up ridiculously early every morning? Say... 4:30 a.m.? EVERY. DAY.

Have I got a bargain for you!



For a very low price (so low we can't even mention it here) you can have this:













(see... she even handles the paperwork!)


It's the Vivi-matic 3000! Wakes you up persistently and reliably every single morning at 4:30 on the dot! And she comes with these amazing features!

• No pesky snooze buttonn to tempt you into oversleeping!


• Escalating volume ensures you will eventually awake, no matter how sound a sleeper you are!


• Bonus good-morning diaper included on random occasions for extra surprise fun!


• Also acts as a weight-loss aid by demanding 1/2 of your breakfast no matter what you put in her bowl!

To order this amazing product, call me. Price negotiable. Free express delivery!

Reports of my death are highly exaggerated...

Surprise! It's your favorite (ok.... at least not your least favorite) blogger rising from the ashes. There's so much to report. My life has changed so much (for the good!) in the last few months and oh, how my sweet girl has grown. And as soon as the Nap Gods smile upon me, I'll fill you in on it all. But for now, behold the cuteness:











And in the current events realm...
ROCK THE F*** ON, OBAMA!!!!!
http://www.cnn.com/2009/POLITICS/03/09/obama.stem.cells/index.html

Stay tuned...

MORE bodily functions...

'Cause I have a toddler... so a good 75% of my life revolves around bodily functions and sadly, not even my own.

Yesterday Vivi got quiet. And the #1 rule of parenting is: when it gets quiet, you should investigate. I ducked my head back into the den to see my sweet angelic baby girl squatting on the floor with a Baby Einstein book laid out in front of her. She was studying the book intently, smiling at the illustrations, and even occasionally turning the page. The English-major-geek in me went positively gooey...

"Look!" I gasped to Husband "She's READING A BOOK! That's so freakin' cute! Look at her face-... wait... is she?"

Yep. Baby Girl was red in the face and grunting. Apparently the instinct to peruse a little light reading material while taking your constitutional kicks in quite early.

In this respect, she is truly her grandfathers' (both of them) granddaughter. They've both been kidded endlessly about their trips to the "library" each morning. I had hoped perhaps my delicate Southern flower of a daughter might be a tad more ladylike and discreet.
No dice.
*SIGH*

But here- some cuteness! Husband was trying to take a nap on the couch. I was trying to change my daughter's clothes. Vivi had other ideas for all of us.








"Dada...are you in here???"









"Share the couch, man!"

Bodily Functions Abound... AGAIN!

To quote my friend Wubbzy, Wow! Wow! That really is the only way to convey what’s happened in the last few weeks. Let’s have some Reader’s Digest versions of events, shall we?

Thanksgiving: Miraculously easy drive down and first few days. And on the last day, baby devolved into a demon, conditions for the drive home were deplorable, and both parents came down with a stomach flu from the very most horrible depths of hell whilst still on the road. A big ol’ shout-out of thanks to my Grandma Bird for putting the baby’s Christmas stocking in that jumbo Ziploc storage bag. That baggie came in miiiighty handy round about the GA/SC state line when I had to finally admit that I was NOT just carsick and would NOT be ok if I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths.

Job News: Mama’s getting laid off. January 31st. My thoughts? Does this suck? Yep. Does it suck worse than waking up in Darfur and fearing for my family’s very survival every minute of the day? No farking way. See my point? You know I’m a big fan of perspective and so I say to you that this, my friends, is just a job. I’ll find another one.

Sleeping: I stuck to my guns and refused to the do the cry-it-out thing while Viv was very small. I still believe that was the right decision. But a few weeks ago, Mama reached a breaking point… a huge, ugly, weepy, full-of-semi-disturbing-thoughts breaking point. And in consultation with a psychiatric professional (and my sister…whom I consider my own personal amateur shrink), I came to the life-altering realization that my kid was working the system. Big time. At a year, she was not waking up and hollering for me out of some unmet need, she was just used to getting her way and would prefer to have ME put her back to sleep rather than settling herself. It took precisely three nights to bring Viv around to the new regime. There was some crying (amazingly none from me.). There were turns taken in going in to reassure her she had not been abandoned to be raised by wolves. Then, suddenly, there were whispered conversations like this:
“….wait…. is she… ASLEEP?”
“shut UP! You’re going to jinx it!”
“…no, really…listen…NOTHING…”
“oh my God… that was too fast, too easy…”
“I know… I have to pee, but…”
“hold it… the bathroom floor is creaky…”
“seriously… we have to shut UP…”
“so, since she’s asleep…*rustle, rustle*.”
“are you kidding me?! this bed is creaky too!”
“I’ll go close the door…”
“No! Nobody moves! Nobody talks! Nobody breathes! Nobody pees! Nobody has sex! NOBODY RUINS THIS SLEEPING THING WITH TRIVIAL BIOLOGICAL NEEDS!”

What’s that? Didn’t my child just have a very important birthday? Why yes, yes she did! And since YOU brought it up, it won’t be obnoxious mommy bragging on my part to force on yo- er, I mean.. show you these adorable pictures!

An Entire Post about Pee

OK, so the entire post isn't exactly about pee itself... but there's a definite urological theme here. Stick with me, folks! I promise this story gets better!

Item #1: Middle Sister is getting her kidney transplant January 6th!! Woo hoo!!!! My cousin is a match and all systems are go. (Get it? Systems? Go? Kidneys? Urinary tract-themed entry? No? Fine. Be that way.)

Item #2: It happened again the other night. I was JUST at the bathroom door with moisturizer and floss in hand ready to get ready for be- GAH! The door. Shutting. Husband had to pee. When he emerged, I made this observation:
"Four years of marriage and watching me push two babies out of my vagina and you STILL can't pee in front of me?"
Now, I know what you're saying... lots of women would probably KILL for their husbands to shut the door and run the water when they pee. Don't get me wrong, I am all about keeping some mystery in your marriage. Husband and I don't pass gas in each other's company and we certainly don't even DISCUSS what else goes on behind that closed bathroom door. That's private time.
But peeing? I grew up in a house with three sisters. If you didn't pee with an audience, you'd have to wet your pants because there was no way you were getting the one bathroom to yourself for something so trivial as urinating. So I admit that I am probably a little fast and loose with my pee privacy. And I realize that Husband grew up with an opposite-sex sibling, meaning the game was a bit different for him.
Childhood bathroom wars aside, I pointed out to Husband that since he HAD seen me birth two children and the subsequent aftermath, continuing to so fiercely guard against me seeing him pee just seems like a very selfish and unfair advantage in the dignity department. To which he replied "So THAT'S what this is all about..." Damn skippy! Well, ok, so not. That's only part of it.
Not to go all Oprah-relationship-expert-special on you, but don't you think that a man who truly trusts his wife, who is secure in his marriage, who is willing to expose his most vulnerable and not always perfect emotional self to her would also be willing to expose... uh... other things at vulnerable and not-so-great moments? I mean, really... this not peeing in front of me could be indicative of much bigger issues. It's a wonder we've managed to stay married this long with such a raw festering emotional wound between us.
I conveyed these theories to Husband. He was unmoved. In fact, all he said was this:
"I smell blog entry."
Smartass.

It's a difficult time for us all...

*On my return to bed after a particularly grueling baby wake-up.*

Husband: Is she ok?

Me: Yeah, she’s back to sleep...finally.

Husband: What got her up and so hard to put back down?

Me: Dunno. Might have been some heartburn/reflux issues, though… ‘cause I finally gave her ½ a teaspoon Maalox in desperation and now she’s sleeping nicely.

Husband: What could have given her heartburn???

Me: State of the economy.

Husband: Good point.

Me: *sleepily* ‘Night

Husband: ‘Night.

We got the tricks.

Suffice to say that Vivi was NOT impressed with Halloween.

But damn, did she look cute...

And then there was Husband... confirming that I am, indeed, the luckiest damn woman on the planet. He's hot AND he volunteers to carry the angry near-toddler. THAT, my friends, is a mighty fine man.

Some Friendly Campaign Advice

One of my favorite people in the whole entire world who also happens to work for a queer issues non-profit sent this to me. It made my whole day. Enjoy!

Dear John McCain:
I am writing because it appears you may have, what we call in the non-profit community, a "crazies" problem. In our non-profit work, especially work that may be issue specific, we often have "crazies" who pop up around our service areas. Let me give you a few examples:

• We have a member in smaller part of our state who likes to send long ranting e-mails to our Executive Director about how, as a doctor, he believes the "Transgenders" are all power-hungry, sick-o men in lipstick. What this man fails to mention in his ranting e-mails is that he had his license revoked by the American Medical Association for inappropriate conduct. However, this "doctor" is NOT shy about telling me, in front of his teenage daughter, that said teenage daughter is mentally ill and her wicked mother forced her to take the stand and testify against him in a court case. This man, Senator McCain, is a crazy.
• We have a young man member in a suburb of a major city where a conservative, evangelical mega-church is also located. Recently this young man called me to tell me that he was planning a direct action in an attempt to get the mega-church leadership and membership to "engage in dialog about the homophobia preached from their pulpit." I asked said young man what exactly the preachers have said. Said Young Man responded that he has never attended services at this church, but he just knows they preach hate. I asked Said Young Man what action he was planning to encourage dialog. Said Young Man replied, "Well, we are going to dress all in black and lie down on their sidewalk and entry walkways with signs saying they are homophobic and preaching hate which causes people to die. We are going to block them from entering the church. I know this might get a few people arrested, but we really want to open dialog between gay people and this church." Though his crazy may be slightly mitigated by his youthful zeal, Said Young Man is a crazy.

So, you may be asking yourself, my friend, what do The Homosexual Agenda Crazies have to do with the Straight Talk Express Campaign for Mavericks and Pitt-Bulls with Lipstick for the White House? Well, Senator McCain, this has to do with leadership. There are times to ignore the crazies, such as when they send crazy e-mails to your Executive Director. Then, my friend, there are time when you must reign in your crazies. I spoke at length with Said Young Man, trying to help him to understand that a hostile action preventing folks from worshiping as they choose is perhaps not the best way to open dialog. Perhaps Said Young Man would encourage a more productive response by say, sending a letter to the lead pastor asking for a meeting or inviting the congregation to a ecumenical worship service with the Unitarian Universalists or maybe even inviting the congregants to a picnic full of queers following their Sunday morning services.

This is where you come in, my friend Senator McCain. Joe the Plumber, while an unregistered voter, an unlicensed plumber, and an ower of back taxes may NOT be a crazy, your supporters who have smashed car windows, heckled black voters, and left dead bear cubs on college campuses are your crazies. No, perhaps you did not directly incite the crazies, but, none the less, my friend, they are your crazies, and they are looking to you for leadership. How about spending some of that big Republican stock market windfall profi-..... er... some of the public funds you took to run an "honest, American campa-"..wait..... um... some money to buy a few ads. I suggest the ads include the following:

"My friends, my fellow Americans, my crazies. I am your leader. And, as your leader, I am telling you to get your happy asses in line. We are Americans. We are trying to take back the White House from those liberal agenda social- no... from the deregulating Bush Admin-... for Main Street! Yeah, for Main Street! And standing on the corner of Main Street with pictures of dead fetuses and monkeys in turbans, yellin' at voters like there were life-hating women entering an abortion mill in the late 1990s is NOT an effective means to help me win this election. I am John McCain, and I approve this message, and I suggest you hot-mess crazies go get some therapizing."

Sincerely,

A Concerned Community Organizer

At least he didn't say "you betcha...."

A dear old college friend of mine works as a Development Manager for a non-profit in Washington, DC. This is a professional woman, with an MA under her belt and an extremely poised and articulate demeanor. There is absolutely nothing about her or her position that would suggest she is not the sort of woman to be taken seriously. She is, however, very very petite and looks damn near a decade or two younger than she actually is and she's not even 30 yet. But if you speak to her for five seconds, you'd know that her impish youthful looks are obviously in contrast with the "content of her character" so to speak.
Aaalll that being said, let me tell you about her day today. She participated in an interview team. They were interviewing a candidate for a Vice-President position... senior level management. The sort of position in which ... oh... say... a minimum standard of professional conduct and non-HR-problem behavior could be expected. Right.
At the end of the interview, the candidate shook everyone's hands. And while he was shaking my friend's hand... GAVE HER A BIG OL' WINK.
Seriously? You WINK at a person INTERVIEWING YOU FOR A JOB? And a WOMAN interviewing your male ass for a job? UGH! I can just hear the inner dialogue. "Awww... hey there, little lady... see how endearing and charming I am? Don't ya just wanna give me a job? I know you gals love a little flirt on the way out! Gets to ya every time!"
I blame Sarah Palin. With one debate she has single-handedly turned a completely inappropriate sickeningly cutesy gesture into something people think constitutes charm.
Bleck.

Some Southern Charm about the VP Debate

All right... this Palin shit has gotten out of hand!

Bad enough she's inexperienced, smug, deceitful, and arrogant.
Bad enough she can't name a single Supreme Court case other than Roe v. Wade
Bad enough she thinks $5K a year in tax credits will cover our health care.
Bad enough this woman keeps calling herself a feminist when she's actually the anti-Christ of the women's movement.

NOW she has CROSSED THE LINE!

Someone who has lived her whole life in FREAKIN' ALASKA has NO RIGHT saying "bless their hearts"!

Bitch probably orders unsweetened tea, too.

Hello? Anyone home?

Sorry for the down time. Vivi hasn't beeen sleeping well. OK, so that's an understatement. My child is obviously an operative for the CIA because I don't know where else she could have learned to use sleep deprivation tactics so effectively. She's been up almost every hour every night for the last two weeks. I am a walking experiment in human endurance. Take THAT, David Blaine, you candy-ass mofo!

But here... have something funny and politically relevant. It will help to pass the time and it also makes you look less nuts for sitting at your desk laughing to yourself. (You know... if you needed that kind of help... not that anyone I know does... right.)

http://www.236.com/news/2008/10/01/debate_training_biden_learns_w_1_9211.php

The problem, you see, is color....

In several recent letters to the editor of our local paper, it has been noted (as it has in many places, I'm sure) that this election would look VERY different if the Obamas were white and Palin and her family were people of color. It's sickeningly blatant, the racial bias in it all. . . and I think the following little piece puts it all in perspective in a way I can't. Mad crazy props (as the kids would say) to my baby sister, Sarah, for sending this to me.

This is Your Nation on White Privilege
By Tim Wise9/13/08

For those who still can't grasp the concept of white privilege, or who are looking for some easy-to-understand examples of it, perhaps this list will help.
White privilege is when you can get pregnant at seventeen like Bristol Palin and everyone is quick to insist that your life and that of your family is a personal matter, and that no one has a right to judge you or your parents, because "every family has challenges," even as black and Latino families with similar "challenges" are regularly typified as irresponsible, pathological and arbiters of social decay.
White privilege is when you can call yourself a "f*ckin' redneck," like Bristol Palin's boyfriend does, and talk about how if anyone messes with you, you'll "kick their f*ckin' ass," and talk about how you like to "shoot sh*t" for fun, and still be viewed as a responsible, all-American boy (and a great son-in-law to be) rather than a thug.
White privilege is when you can attend four different colleges in six years like Sarah Palin did (one of which you basically failed out of, then returned to after making up some coursework at a community college), and no one questions your intelligence or commitment to achievement, whereas a person of color who did this would be viewed as unfit for college, and probably someone who only got in in the first place because of affirmative action.
White privilege is when you can claim that being mayor of a town smaller than most medium-sized colleges, and then Governor of a state with about the same number of people as the lower fifth of the island of Manhattan, makes you ready to potentially be president, and people don't all piss on themselves with laughter, while being a black U.S. Senator, two-term state Senator, and constitutional law scholar, means you're "untested."
White privilege is being able to say that you support the words "under God" in the pledge of allegiance because "if it was good enough for the founding fathers, it's good enough for me," and not be immediately disqualified from holding office--since, after all, the pledge was written in the late 1800s and the "under God" part wasn't added until the 1950s--while believing that reading accused criminals and terrorists their rights (because, ya know, the Constitution, which you used to teach at a prestigious law school, requires it), is a dangerous and silly idea only supported by mushy liberals.
White privilege is being able to be a gun enthusiast and not make people immediately scared of you.
White privilege is being able to have a husband who was a member of an extremist political party that wants your state to secede from the Union, and whose motto is "Alaska first," and no one questions your patriotism or that of your family, while if you're black and your spouse merely fails to come to a 9/11 memorial so she can be home with her kids on the first day of school, people immediately think she's being disrespectful.
White privilege is being able to make fun of community organizers and the work they do--like, among other things, fight for the right of women to vote, or for civil rights, or the 8-hour workday, or an end to child labor--and people think you're being pithy and tough, but if you merely question the experience of a small town mayor and 18-month governor with no foreign-policy expertise beyond a class she took in college and the fact that she lives close to Russia--you're somehow being mean, or even sexist.
White privilege is being able to convince white women who don't even agree with you on any substantive issue to vote for you and your running mate anyway, because suddenly your presence on the ticket has inspired confidence in these same white women, and made them give your party a "second look."
White privilege is being able to fire people who didn't support your political campaigns and not be accused of abusing your power or being a typical politician who engages in favoritism, while being black and merely knowing some folks from the old-line political machines in Chicago means you must be corrupt.
White privilege is when you can take nearly twenty-four hours to get to a hospital after beginning to leak amniotic fluid, and still be viewed as a great mom whose commitment to her children is unquestionable, and whose "next door neighbor" qualities make her ready to be VP, while if you're a black candidate for president and you let your children be interviewed for a few seconds on TV, you're irresponsibly exploiting them.
White privilege is being able to give a 36 minute speech in which you talk about lipstick and make fun of your opponent, while laying out no substantive policy positions on any issue at all, and still manage to be considered a legitimate candidate, while a black person who gives an hour speech the week before, in which he lays out specific policy proposals on several issues, is still criticized for being too vague about what he would do if elected.
White privilege is being able to attend churches over the years whose pastors say that people who voted for John Kerry or merely criticize George W. Bush are going to hell, and that the U.S. is an explicitly Christian nation and the job of Christians is to bring Christian theological principles into government, and who bring in speakers who say the conflict in the Middle East is God's punishment on Jews for rejecting Jesus, and everyone can still think you're just a good church-going Christian, but if you're black and friends with a black pastor who has noted (as have Colin Powell and the U.S. Department of Defense) that terrorist attacks are often the result of U.S. foreign policy and who talks about the history of racism and its effect on black people, you're an extremist who probably hates America.
White privilege is not knowing what the Bush Doctrine is when asked by a reporter, and then people get angry at the reporter for asking you such a "trick question," while being black and merely refusing to give one-word answers to the queries of Bill O'Reilly means you're dodging the question, or trying to seem overly intellectual and nuanced.
White privilege is being able to go to a prestigious prep school, then to Yale and then Harvard Business school, and yet, still be seen as just an average guy (George W. Bush) while being black, going to a prestigious prep school, then Occidental College, then Columbia, and then to Harvard Law, makes you "uppity," and a snob who probably looks down on regular folks.
White privilege is being able to graduate near the bottom of your college class (McCain), or graduate with a C average from Yale (W.) and that's OK, and you're cut out to be president, but if you're black and you graduate near the top of your class from Harvard Law, you can't be trusted to make good decisions in office.
White privilege is being able to dump your first wife after she's disfigured in a car crash so you can take up with a multi-millionaire beauty queen (who you go on to call the c-word in public) and still be thought of as a man of strong family values, while if you're black and married for nearly twenty years to the same woman, your family is viewed as un-American and your gestures of affection for each other are called "terrorist fist bumps."
White privilege is being able to sing a song about bombing Iran and still be viewed as a sober and rational statesman, with the maturity to be president, while being black and suggesting that the U.S. should speak with other nations, even when we have disagreements with them, makes you "dangerously naive and immature."
White privilege is being able to claim your experience as a POW has anything at all to do with your fitness for president, while being black and experiencing racism and an absent father is apparently among the "lesser adversities" faced by other politicians, as Sarah Palin explained in her convention speech.
And finally, white privilege is the only thing that could possibly allow someone to become president when he has voted with George W. Bush 90 percent of the time, even as unemployment is skyrocketing, people are losing their homes, inflation is rising, and the U.S. is increasingly isolated from world opinion, just because white voters aren't sure about that whole "change" thing. Ya know, it's just too vague and ill-defined, unlike, say, four more years of the same, which is very concrete and certain.White privilege is, in short, the problem.

UPDATE:
While copying and pasting this post to correct a typo, I accidentally deleted the whole post. These were the comments that appeared before I got stuck on stupid. :)

Erin and Rick said...
Every single 'fact' spun in this article can be 'factually' spun in the complete opposite direction. At the end of the day, it's ALL a matter of opinion & interpretation. They are ALL liars, cheats, frauds, and puppets. Including Mr. Obama.
9:17 AM

Erin and Rick said...
Also- I really don't know where the 'skyrocketing unemployment' comments keep coing from. This is straight from the Bureau of Labor & Statistics website. It's done nothing but drop since 2002. Tee hee!http://data.bls.gov/PDQ/servlet/SurveyOutputServlet?data_tool=latest_numbers&series_id=LNU04000000&years_option=all_years&periods_option=specific_periods&periods=Annual+Data
9:53 AM
Lady Liberal said...
First, let's look at more recent unemployment data. Go here:
http://www.bls.gov/web/cpseea1.pdf

Look at the month by month figures since August 2007- steady rise from 4.7 to 6.1. Keep in mind that economic downturns are not usually over night phenomneon. The current policies and problems take a few years to show solid effects on the economy- hence, our "sudden" peril.Second- that's exactly the point of the article- interpretation. I think what you're taking issue with isn't the facts of the article, those are pretty solid. Palin and Obama's collegiate records, her experience, his experience, his family status, and her family events are all recorded accurately. I think that you're taking issue with (and absolutely correctly) is the "spin" as you called it- the interpretation of those facts, the language used to describe and deconstruct them. And that's exactly the point of the article. The conservatives are NOT applying the same interpretation to the experiences of Palin and Obama. Universally as a country, we don't typically apply the same interpretations- institutional racism colors those interpretations.LOL- now I have that song from Avenue Q playing in my head... "Everyone's a little bit racist..." Myself included. :)
10:45 AM

Lady Liberal said...
Let me add...I'm aware that there are extremists on both sides. And I'm aware that extreme left-wingers are not innocent of "interpretations" of their own. That's certainly true. I agree wholeheartedly with the conservatives that Palin's daughter's pregnancy is a private family affair (a point Obama made himself, btw) and should absolutely in no way EVER be used against her mother. All kids make mistakes. The point of this article is that systemically, as a nation, we view experiences both good and bad differently in cases where race is a factor. We tolerate and excuse things from "nice" (read: white) families that are symptoms of low-class destruction of society in others.We do the same thing with gender. We do the same thing with socioeconomic status. We do the same thing with ethnicity. It's the whole privilege and prejudice argument.
11:10 AM

Sorry Mom- I say fuck a lot in this one...

Dearest Republicans:
Watched parts of your convention- loved the gratuitious shots of Palin’s uber cute littlest daughter. ‘Cause you know…she has lots to do with Palin’s fitness to govern.

But seriously, I can’t decide whether to go with fury or awe.
One one hand, I’m furious. I’m furious and insulted that you put this party-line-robot in lip liner on your ticket and don’t even bother to veil the fact that you’re positively pandering to the “woman vote”. This woman voter finds it disgusting since the woman you chose supports policies that are so inherently anti-woman and anti-family, she might as well be… oh, yeah, W! So she has a vagina from whence came five kids. All that tells me is that she’s at least open to pretending to be heterosexual and she’s not barren. It doesn’t mean she cares about me or what my family needs and it damn sure doesn’t mean she’s good for this country. Her absolute and complete lack of federal level experience, much less global awareness is appalling. Her devotion to a party that has continually disenfranchised her gender and children like her youngest son is repulsive. Her anti-choice pro-death penalty platform is hypocritical. Her stated policies and her record are so far right-wing-fuck-the-environment-and-working-poor-get-more-money-in-rich-people's-pockets-and-you-better-be-holy-white-Christians, she's making me wish Falwell was still alive to be on the ticket. She is not a thinking woman’s woman. And it’s positively insulting that you pass her off as such.

I’m also in awe- at the sheer chutzpah it took to nominate her. And the absolute Orwellian mind control it must take to have party members INSISTING that her experience as mayor of a tiny city and short time as governor of a far-flung-sparsely-populated state can compare with, nay, is BETTER than a man with state and federal level senatorial experience, an education in constitutional law, and extensive hands-on exposure to global issues. Never mind your gal only left the country for the first time last year, she’s ready for tea with Putin! Never mind she’s made questionable use of her power, gobbled up extensive federal resources for the aforementioned sparsely populated state, and doesn't want anyone talking about condoms. No, she’s the kind of big ideas thinker who can handle the complexities of governing what is (at least for now) still the most powerful country on earth. Good God… the vehement way your supporters cling to her despite all logic and reason… not since Charles Manson have we seen this kind of mind fuck.

But what gets me most of all, RNC, is your presentation of her as a family and family values candidate. To put it politely, fuck that shit. The woman had a special needs child, returned to office THREE DAYS LATER and then proceeded to drag a near-newborn out on the campaign trail. For either mom OR dad to do so, that ain’t good parenting. And how about poor Bristol? Being a pregnant teenager is hard enough, but she's going to accept this nomination and let the poor girl live out that struggle under national media scrutiny? And she's encouraging her to marry the baby’s father- Mom would like her to make TWO mistakes? For appearances? For her career? Those are not my kind of family values, lady. But what should I expect from someone campaigning along side a man who lets his wife raise children alone while he pursues his career thousands of miles away and doesn’t even return to care for her personally after a stroke. Don’t cry family values to me while your candidates mistreat their own families and crush funding for programs that would help families without your privilege and resources.

Seriously. Fury and awe.
Fuck off.
A Raging Liberal Pissed Off Mama Just Waiting for November

P.S.- Big apologies to Mom for extensive use of the word fuck. Sorry, Ma. Situation warranted it. See? Family values!