Good Children

Pregnant men and why they annoy me

I took plenty of queer theory in college. I lived next to the popular lesbian haven of Northampton for three years. I also have a theater degree and though I jokingly call the two men next door my "gaybors", I honestly don't judge people by their sexual preferences -- I have no prejudices or even preconceived notions about homosexuals or even transvestites. Transgenders on the other hand ... they bug me.

First of all, I find it ethically irresponsible for the medical community to assist in gender reassignment for a psychiatric disease. To me, it's no different than granting to cut off limbs of "amputee wannabes" or those suffering from "body integrity identity disorder."

Secondly, I feel that it is society's fault for polarizing gender differences that makes people want to mutilate their bodies. I'm even willing to say the same for any elective plastic surgery.

The bottom line is that I just don't understand it. I have sought out to educate myself and I still don't get it. If one decides to go through with it, more power to 'em. I hope that they are happy and I'll accept them for who they are. HOWEVER, they check their former gender at the door. Period.

When I found out that the president of the local NOW chapter here was a post-op transsexual, I never went back. Why on earth would someone give up the privilege of being male and then join NOW? It bothered me greatly.

I hadn't given it much thought until I read this story. A transsexual (woman to man) went through what he had to do short of sterilization to become legally male. He got married and accrued all of the rights therein and when his wife was unable to conceive, he inseminated himself with donor sperm and is now carrying their child.

I feel like I should be able to shrug and say "good for them" like The Husband did. But I can't. The degree of psychiatric care that one goes through to make "the change" is supposed to guarantee that there is no second guessing and I think that carrying a child counts as "second guessing."

I know that if I had read this story ten years ago I would have probably been a lot less disturbed but with age I've become more conservative. That's all there is to it. In another ten years I'll probably be voting republican. Oy.

I love me some Peeps

And so do these folks, evidently.

"Peep van Gogh"
Susan Myer, Bellevue

Lawsuit thwarted

Our new porch is completed which means that the tenants will have to find another way to sue us rather than by falling down the steps. We can finally spend Halloween inside rather than policing the porch to keep costumed kids from wiping out (not that we would stay inside with our fabulous neighbors giving us drinks).

I went to take a photo and Adelaide plopped right into the shot. She likes playing with the rocks.

Where once bare bulbs lit our entryways, I installed actual fixtures today. If you are looking for lights, go to Lowes. They have a large selection and are about half the price of Home Depot. I should know, I spent a lot of time in each of them today.

In fact, this afternoon during a second trip out to Home Depot, a man in line in front of me turned around and said, "weren't you at Lowe's this morning?"  Why yes, I was, stalker. Then I was wondering what made me so memorable. Was it the perplexed look that I had on my face as I paced the lighting aisle or the way I had to crawl on the floor to dig for the last two fixtures I wanted? Sexy.

I was also shopping for a doorbell. While looking over the options I realized that the big silver metal object in our kitchen is in fact a doorbell, not some crazy alarm like I imagined. This led me to believe that under the wireless doorbell on our door frame hid some actual wires. I was right. However, I failed at my installation attempt. Thankfully my electrician/musician/secret boyfriend comes this week to do some work so I'll see if he can give me a hand. In the meantime, can anyone tell me why the wireless doorbell options are so repulsively plastic?

Snot overload

I've written a thousand posts over the past few weeks -- they're all in my head though. I also came up with some clever post titles but I've forgotten them all. Eh.

Ok, Adelaide's cold is clearing up. Daisy has caught it however and both have recently endured cold related eye infections that cover their lashes in some lovely green slime every morning. It's beautiful, I assure you. I've only caught a bit of a cold and The Husband, well, he doesn't live here anymore since taking on a recent case.

Well, I take that back, he can be found in the house between the hours of 10 pm and 6 am. However, due to his big win today, I might actually be able to have dinner with him this evening.

Anyway, where was I? We are trucking right along with the potty training with the exception that once Addy takes her clothes off to use the toilet, she won't put them back on. Today I heard myself say, "you can't rub an apple on your butt." Then after I threw the fruit away, two hours of tantruming ensued. Loooove it.

Due to her recent cold, we were been spared from the high pitch screaming that Adelaid responds with any time that I try to discipline her. It's back now and my ears hurt.

My brother recently asked me why I don't just let her do whatever she wants. I know that he was teasing but I DO pretty much abide to her every wish. The other morning she wanted a banana so I snapped the stem so she could peel it and she freaked out 'cause I had done so. I then took that banana and gave her a new one. She peeled it herself, broke it in two and then threw a tantrum because it was "broken." Fortunately my father was here to witness his blessed granddaughter's behavior.

This morning Addy wanted a chocolate sandwich (Nutella) for breakfast and I said sure. I put it together, cut it down the middle like I always do and handed it to her. A tantrum then ensued because I had broken yet another item of food. You know what stopped the fight this time? A piece of tape. I taped her sandwich and she went on her merry way.

She won't let me brush her hair, wash her face or dress her. She is filthy but I love her anyway. However, I can't wait for pre-school which is an entirely different set of issues that I am sick of talking about.

OK! Some things have gone right recently. We finally re-financed the house to put the construction loan together with our mortgage and it's all at a lower percentage than what we originally had which makes me very happy. We also took out enough to rebuild the porch. Construction is completed and they are just finishing up the paint today. We have two off-street parking spaces and the yard is full of gravel to keep our feet from getting wet ever time it rains. I love the new porch, it's gorgeous and we don't live in fear of getting sued anymore. I can't tell you how many people fell down our front steps. Pictures to come soon.

Also, during my dad's recent visit, we managed to paint what was once our bedroom and hang a new light fixture to create a dining room. Now I only need some chairs to add to a table that come with the house.

I'm waiting for our slime days to end. Addy's favorite place to wipe her nose is my arm but that's only when she's not licking it.

Another reason I don't leave the house

We had a one-year-old's birthday party to go to over the weekend. Her brother is three months older than Addy and usually beats her up. The two of them together is a constant scream fest and there's little worse than seeing your daughter get knocked over and hit continuously.  I can't blame the mom because she corrects the behavior immediately.

At the birthday party there was none of the aggressive behavior that we had been seeing for months. In fact he and Adeladie were cooperating fully. They spent so much time together that he made Addy sick. Hooray!

Poor Adelaide is stationed on the couch today while we watch the Disney channel line up. I'm not sure how much more Kim Possible I can take.

Fangs

I picked Daisy up from her nap the other day and noticed a red welt on her thigh. It was hard to the touch and about the size of a quarter. I looked more closely and saw two small purple dots and immediatetly thought that they looked like fang impressions. I knew that they weren't as the puncture marks were about 1/4 of and inch apart and much too big for anything living in our house.

I called the pediatrician to see if there was anything I should be on the look out for (foaming at the mouth, speaking in tongues, etc.). The doctor asked me to draw a circle around the edges of the welt with a ballpoint pen. If the redness grew outside of the line overnight, bring her in; otherwise she would be fine. I dutifully traced Daisy's welt, hoping that Addy didn't catch me drawing on her sister and think that it was a good idea.

I then called The Husband who has a terrible fear of spiders. I explained to him that the "fang" marks looked too far apart to be an actual spider bite.

"Tarantulas have fangs that far apart," he proposed.
"When was the last time you saw a tarantula in our bedroom?" I countered.

Daisy continued to act normally as the day drew to a close. Finally The Husband returned home and inspected the injury.

"Isn't that where she got inoculated yesterday?" He asked.
"Um, maybe."
"How many shots did she get?"
"Uh, two?" I guess that would explain the "fang" effect."

It turns out that it was the pediatrician who "bit" Violet. Having babies has made me an idiot, plain and simple.