A confession

I'm going to say something that I'm not terribly proud of. This may just serve to reinforce my strangeness in your mind, and I'm okay with that. I think. But I digress.

I'll just go ahead and say it:  I find a lot of other moms insufferable. I never really had occasion for these feelings to surface until I did the preschool pick up and drop off this year with Will and after nearly eight months of it, I can honestly say that I still think this, unfortunately. Pretty frequently.

Now, I will be the first to speak up in defense of moms in general, the working sort or the stay-at-home sort. I've never bought into the whole "Mommy wars" thing that nefariously pits moms in the workforce against moms who stay at home. Never, not once, since I've had Will have I had a working mother dismiss me or act superior in any way, shape or form. I like to think that women in general, and mothers in particular, have so, so much more in common than any differences between us. We are, regardless of race or socioeconomic status or political identification, in possession of a great many commonalities. We are multitaskers and caretakers and friends and allies and fiercely loyal and capable and competent. We all want the best for our families, even though "the best" is a relative term, I suppose.

That said, though, there is a specific type of mother (or father, really) that I just can't for the life of me make myself want to be around. The kind that is constantly so on, so happy, so ready to praise her genius child's every effing move. The chirpy kind, whose voice seems to carry miles and miles to my eardrums, boring seemingly permanent holes there. Seriously. I don't know how they do it. I realize that it's not in my personality to be effusive in any way and I don't begrudge others who are more emotive than I ever will be. What I take issue with is just how crazy it all is. No one could possibly be that happy, that excited, that enthralled with their children, that often.

And not only that, I can't help but wonder what effect this will have on our kids. I realize that I am in no way a perfect mother and that I never will be. (I could list my faults and mistakes here but it would be so long and so boring that even I would lose interest. Trust me.) I realized early on in my first year in the classroom that praise in any form is to be used sparingly and only when it's truly deserved. A teacher can't possibly praise all of the students equally in her class on any given day, especially for things that really aren't that big of a deal (i.e. putting their attendance stick in the right container at the beginning of the day or putting library books back in their correct bins or leaving notes or permission slips in the right pocket in the hanging organizer on the wall, etc.). So my takeaway lesson there was to never praise the expectation. Some things truly warranted praise but they were a bit fewer and far(er) in between. So the kids in my classroom always knew that, when I pointed out something that they did well, it was (a) deserved and (b) pretty exceptional.

There's a boy in Will's classroom who is the son of one of these mothers. She's younger (well, around my age, which appears to be young as far as the parents at Will's school go) and she makes such a big deal about everything her son does. For instance, the kids had gone out on a "fall walk" around the school and collected some fall items like leaves and acorns in a paper bag that was sent home (don't ask why--I would rather they have been thrown away but maybe I'm the one who's being weird here). This mom took a peek inside her son's bag and exclaimed, all wide-eyed and animated,"Oh, Billy, just look at these TREASURES!" I was, in the meantime, trying to put Will's shoe back on him after he inexplicably took it off in the hall as we were putting his coat on, with Laura sitting on the dirty floor between my legs and it took everything in my being to not say, "Really? Your precious kid found the exact same shit my kid did and, moreover, it's going to be all over our floor if I don't find a way to discreetly dispose of it before we get home." (This is the same three-year-old who still refers to his father as "Da da" so there's more than a little bit of babying going on there.)

I just fear that this type of constant excitement and "you're the best thing ever in the whole wide world" is creating a world of kids who expect to be patted on the back for everything, who can't handle any sort of adversity or can only handle it with the assistance of their parents. I realize, though, that some of this enthusiasm is probably done for the benefit of other parents and (hopefully?) isn't the norm when they're home  and that I may be a little overly critical here.

However. And I'm getting back to my original point here, eventually, I promise. I stand there three days a week and am privy to conversations between these mothers and they just make me cringe. I know that they're only short snippets of conversations and that these same mothers (I can only hope) have discussions about more important matters with their spouses, maybe, or with their close friends. But seriously. If I have to listen to one more mom prattle on about (a) the minutiae of her exercise routine or (b) the latest extracurricular activity sweet Sally is in these days I may go crazy. (Sidenote:  The vast, vast majority of moms at Will's school stay at home with their kids. And if they don't, they have nannies. The vast, vast majority of these mothers also dress  very similarly to me, go to the same music classes with their infants, take them to the same places during the summer, etc. So I guess it's not surprising that they seem to discuss the same things over and over and over. I've become a cliche myself, I'm afraid.)

Some days I feel like I'm in some sort of alternate reality, where I will never fit in (and don't ever really want to, honestly). I kind of imagine the labor and delivery nurse handing these moms their newly-born, swaddled sweet baby saying, with a sinister shine in her eyes, "Here's your baby. Now give me your soul." Yes, being a mother is the most defining role I'll ever have. It's the most important. It's the one that I enjoy most (or don't enjoy most, depending on the day). But it's not all of who I am. It never will be. There is more to me, to any mom, than what she does with her children and what her children may grow up to be and do. We are complex people who have significant thoughts and ideas, who have opinions on important things, who are capable and strong and intelligent. We are more than that woman with the annoying voice praising our four- year-old for knowing that it's lunchtime after the school day is over. I hope, at least. I hope.

A daddy and his daughter

I took these pictures the other day when we were outside during a break in the seemingly endless rain we've had around here for the last few weeks. I have said this before, but I can't imagine how she could get any sweeter. The final picture is what I found after Will was playing his version of "dress up" with Laura. (Tool belt compliments of Aunt Jess, Uncle Mark, Luke and Jake--it's a well-loved staple in the toy rotation...)

Still here

We've had a busy few days and I've not gotten around to writing anything recently, so this may be a little bit jumbled. Or a lot jumbled.

The farm. We went, we saw, we petted, we smelled (the animals, that is, although now that I think about it, we probably smelled afterward as well). We also got a little bit wet and muddy but Will loved every second of it. It was nice for me to see him with his preschool friends (the little ladies' man was holding hands with a little girl at one point--does it really start this early?) and to witness the fact that he is actually capable of sitting still and listening to someone who isn't (a) his mother and/or (b) holding his chin, positioning herself directly in his line of sight while he twists this way and that to avoid her and repeatedly saying things like "Look at my eyes while I'm talking to you" or some other such nonsense. I have no idea why he'd not want to sit still and listen for me.

Learning about what goes into compost. This was a hit, mainly because they got to hold worms.

Planting some sort of bean.

And, finally, "gently" petting a baby chick.

The following evening, Grammie (my mom) arrived and Will nearly imploded from sheer excitement and anticipation. We always love when Mom visits, but Will gets especially "exciting" for Grammie time. For us, it's a powerful reminder of how incredibly nice it would be to be closer to our families (we actually got to go on a last minute Easter bunny shopping trip with only one of our offspring--the one who's still immobile for shopping trip purposes--and not two! It felt like a vacation!) for a wide variety of reasons. But...we're pretty much staying put and I don't think anyone's uprooting to move to Cincinnati so I'll stop there and snap back to reality. 

(Tangent alert:  Back to my reality where I drag both of the kids everywhere with me, like this morning when we were at Target and I had really tested Laura's limits, in part because I tried to cram in a visit to the athletic clothing section for some more comfy pants for me, of all things. She was starting to get fussy in the checkout line and I turned around to see her screaming and Will trying to shove a handful of Cheerios into her wailing mouth. Of course, she got madder, I did the old finger sweep of the mouth, she continued to get madder and started coughing and gagging. All the while Will was petting her head telling her "I'm right here, Baby Sister" and everyone around us was staring uncertainly at our traveling road show. Surprisingly, these types of scenarios don't even phase me anymore. If it had been Will gagging on a handful of Cheerios, I'd have stopped, ripped him out of the buggy posthaste, called 911, performed an elaborate dance approximating CPR since I only have a dim recollection of the actual procedure, and then taken him immediately to his pediatrician's office despite the fact that he was obviously perfectly unharmed. This time, though, I patted her on the back a few times, kissed her, paid for our stuff and went to McDonald's for some coffee without replaying the scene in my head a thousand times. I'm not sure if this acquired laxity about the second child is just a coping mechanism or if it's actually detrimental to all of us.)

Where was I? The Easter bunny made a quick stop here and left some goodies, including a bike for Will. (Laura got a little shortchanged this year, as she got some board books, a Very Hungry Caterpillar toy and candy that was actually for me. What does a one year old really need?) While Will was excited to see that the Easter bunny had left presents on Sunday morning, he went straight for Laura's caterpillar and ignored his basket and bike until we directed him to his own stuff. I guess that just says that he would've also been pleased with just a few board books and a caterpillar of his own. Duly noted.

We took Will to the high school parking lot to test out his bike and he was just beside himself. He kept racing by Laura and me shouting, "I'm having so much fun, Mommy! Can we stay here longer?" I kept thinking about how much older he suddenly seemed, navigating around the parking lot on his own personally-designed obstacle course, testing just how fast he was comfortable going, just how far from us he was willing to wander. (Too fast and too far, in case there's any doubt.) A passerby would have seen a little boy on a bike, decidedly not a toddler anymore. His mommy, though, saw her big boy but thought about a tiny little baby in a blue linen romper and gingham hat, snuggled in his never-before-used car seat under too many blankets (see? paranoid first-time parent), on his way home from the hospital. Four years ago. 

How is he old enough to ride a bike?

This picture perfectly captures my typical stance at any given moment. Laura is breastfeeding and Will is on the move, so I'm positioned where I can assist if need be. An accurate title for his vignette could be something like "The Story of My Life."

And speaking of the story of my life, the laundry is calling my name. (Metaphorically speaking, of course, even though we currently have enough laundry to be done that it warrants being labeled as a Situation.) More soon...

I've stopped asking why

First, this happened:

He was watching his nightly "show" before bed. I have no idea how he fit in there. Or how it could possibly been comfortable, much less an inviting prospect.

The next day, this happened:





















He wasn't doing it for a photo op, either. I came in to find him crammed into Laura's carseat, pondering, staring off into space. Boys can be such strange little beings, can't they?



This is Laura's preferred position these days. It's putting a serious damper on her napping, though, since now she just stands up in her crib and screams instead of just lying down and going to sleep. Will never did this, so I'm kind of at a loss as to what to do about the situation. Nevertheless, I think she looks so comically little when she stands up and tosses everything out of her toy basket that it's almost worth it. And she's just so proud of herself that it's hard to be frustrated with this new little wrinkle.

We're spending tomorrow morning (Will and I, that is) at a farm for a field trip. Nothing says "fun" like the threat of stormy weather (on a "rain or shine" field trip, no less), a million wet preschoolers, and the lingering scent of animal dung, now does it? But Will's really excited about it, so I guess I should just suck it up and deal with it. My only concern is that this place doesn't have pigs, since Will has obsessed about seeing the pigs since he learned where his field trip was going to be. More to come on this...

Friday with Froggy

Will and I spent tax day (which reminds me, today is exactly one year from Laura's due date) going to visit Froggy at a local bookstore. Since Laura's been here, we've not gotten to do a whole lot of these types of outings, since they almost always seem to coincide with either Laura's naps or Will's school days and times. But Jamison was able to stay home with Laura while she napped and Will and I made the short trip to the bookstore. He was so excited on the way there that I felt really guilty about not doing more of this.

But we got there to find the parking lot packed (we got the last spot, in fact) and the bookstore even more crowded. The books were already being read and Will, strangely, was kind of clingy and wanted to be held so he could see. This is totally out of character for him. He perked up, though, when Froggy was getting ready to make his entrance.

Froggy!



I swear, I didn't drug him. He looks like I did. I had to snap this quickly since Froggy was getting ready to leave and there were other kids waiting in line to meet him.

So. That was our Friday morning. We spent the rest of the day at swimming lessons and treating Will's chin wound that he sustained in the evening (he tripped on the rug and hit his chin on the edge of the step). I thought that we were going to have to make our first ER visit with him but it ended up being okay.

Happy weekend!

Facelift

It was high time I got a new look around here. I was really tired of the garish blue and green and wanted something a little more me (or, more accurately, a little more monochromatic). The downside of Blogger, though, for novices like me anyway, is that the choice of backgrounds is a little bit limited. So. I did some Googling and landed upon The Background Fairy. (There is also a companion site, The Graphics Fairy.) Both are full of pretty and FREE clip art, blog backgrounds and other various treasures. And the bonus is that everything is accompanied by clear, easy-to-follow instructions. (And now, my HTML-proficient husband is probably shaking his head at my computer ineptitude. I hate to do anything computer-related near him because I can physically sense his overwhelming desire to just take over the job, kind of like you feel watching a kid struggle with something you can do easily.)

So. Here we are. A little more neutral. Will took one look at it and asked for the blue (bwue) back, as I knew he would. All he really wants, though, is to look at pictures of himself here and say, laughing hysterically, "That's really funny."

There's really not all that much going on around here right now, just school and resuming swimming lessons after a break for a few months. Laura is still working on pulling up on everything and I'm still working on letting her do it, letting her fall sometimes (well, not letting her as in intentionally watching her get hurt). She's always been so attached to me, and me to her, truthfully, that it's surprising to me every day to see her starting to test her separateness. She is still so sweet, so happy to be around the ones she loves, but I'm beginning to watch her do more and more without us, all the while looking to us for approval after her hard-fought little victories. Will was always so incredibly independent that this part of his babyhood wasn't so jarring. It was just what he did, going at it full force without looking at us at all. It's still what he does.

Speaking of, Will has in the past few weeks (and I almost hate to even write this, but here goes) become much more cooperative and willing to comply without the endless questioning and/or fit-throwing. Thank goodness, because I was ready to just give up and look into military school or something equally harsh. Not to say that he's perfect or anything, since he still struggles (I just typed "struffles") with some things behavior-wise, like respecting others' physical boundaries (of which Will apparently has none--he's a "close talker"), but we're getting there. Bit by bit. Small step by small step. I finally feel like I can fairly easily go out with both of the kids by myself now and not break out in a cold sweat at the thought of having a meal in a restaurant with them. Progress.

And now I need to make some progress house-wise. I've been woefully lax this week about keeping up with the more mundane parts of my job around here. More soon...

We went to the zoo and saw lots of tattoos and tank tops

Since the baby giraffe made its appearance (on Will's birthday, no less), we wanted to go to the zoo to see it for ourselves. The "seeing" is relative, though, since it's still kept in its indoor pen until it (a girl who is yet to be named, hence the "it") is a little older and more able to handle being outside more. When we arrived at the zoo to find it crowded in general and the giraffe area with a line snaking around a good bit of that side of the zoo, we quickly revised our plan and talked up the rhinos instead. (Waiting in any kind of line is excruciating for Will, especially a line that long in the blazing sun in 85 degree weather, so we decided we could go back in a few days on a weekday when it wasn't quite so busy. We're zoo members, so "going to the zoo" often means we spend an hour or so there, ride the train and/or carousel, and retreat to the comfort and non-crowdedness of our house.)

Anyway, since we decided to go after Laura's afternoon nap, we didn't get to the zoo until around one o'clock or so. And it was packed. The tank tops and tattoos were out in full force (hence the title). Seriously. Why is it that zoos, amusement parks, etc. really seem to bring out the salt of the earth? And then some. I always kind of expect to stumble upon some sort of mobile meth lab or something, as rough as some people look.

Laura had on her own tank top but was, sadly, sans tattoo. I told Jamison before we left that I wanted to dress her appropriately so she'd feel at ease there. She doesn't look all that happy in this picture but she was perfectly content to survey the zoo and all the people there from the comfort of her stroller.

Since I was on Will duty (as opposed to stroller duty), my right arm was sore the following day from trying to corral his excitement and keep him next to me and holding my hand instead of darting off into the sea of white trash people taking a gander at all the animals. (Yes, I did just write that. I don't know how else to adequately convey the type of people who seem to frequent such places.)

After an hour or so, we decided on a carousel ride and to then wrap things up with a walk to see the rhinos. We'd checked books out from the library on our weekly trip there to prepare for our zoo visit and Will had chosen one on rhinos, so he was looking forward to seeing them in person again. As the grand finale, we finally got to the area where they usually are only to find that they weren't out. Of course. (All of this discovered while standing right next to a rather loud family who was lacking in the common sense department, to put it nicely. I think I even caught Will looking at them with a mixture of pity and disgust as they vociferously discussed the animals and their various body functions. Yeah.)

Surprisingly, Will didn't have a meltdown. Instead, he said he was hungry and thirsty and we strolled ourselves right out to the parking lot and left. Once we were in the car, we compared notes on our experiences and talked about such fascinating topics as whether or not these tank top wearers looked at other tank top wearers and judged them for their questionable taste. Jamison said he felt like waving and smiling to each "normal" family he saw, maybe to start some kind of no-tattoos, no-tank-tops secret society. I said, and stand by this still, that the zoo has two major functions for me: (1) to make me feel smarter and (2) to make my husband and children seem even more attractive than they normally seem to me. (I know, that's kind of awful.)

Anyway, I know all of these musings on the cultural anthropology of zoo-goers has been fascinating but I have to stop here and get the wee one up so that she's not up even earlier than her regular 6 am wakeup time tomorrow morning.

She's on the chart!

Two posts in one day! It may be a record. But don't expect much, as I need to get cracking around here and clean this pit up.

Anyhoo, Will and Laura had their checkups today (another bonus of their birthdays being close) and Laura is back on the chart length-wise. (Not literally on the chart lengthwise, as that may read. She prefers to chew on her charts, not lie on them lengthwise.) 5th percentile! But still, she's back on. (She's 27 1/4 inches long, I think.) She weighs all of 15 lbs, 12 oz, which means that she gained a whole pound (plus two ounces) since her last visit the week before her birthday. That's pretty major for her, too. (I thought I may just be imagining that she suddenly seemed heavier in her carrier but it turns out I was right!)

Will, as usual, is right in the middle weightwise and on the shorter side for his height (25th percentile, for anyone who's curious). It appears that he may have inherited Daddy's lazy eye (or whatever the technical term is for it) so we're going to go see a children's eye doctor. His hearing is also not great but we think it's because both of the kids STILL have ear infections and are STILL on another, different, stronger antibiotic. So. We go back for an ear/hearing check in a month...

All of that was probably only interesting to about two people. Or maybe no one. I was even kind of bored writing about it myself and they're my kids.

Again, happy weekend!

Some pictures for your Friday

I had to use the flash, due to our low-light situation imposed by the loss of electricity. Laura is never still these days and has begun that fun pulling-up-on-everything-even-things-that-can't-hold-her-(albeit not too
 significant)weight-and-narrowly-avoiding-numerous-head-injuries phase. I realize that many one-year-olds are already walking but both of my kids take their time about it. Not that I'm complaining, though. I'll take the extra few months, especially since it seemed to result in Will being a pretty good walker from the very beginning, i.e. not too many nasty falls.

If I'm sitting on the floor, she cannot stay away from me. I don't mind, really.























Will struck this pose after I told him I just wanted one nice picture of him. We see where that got me.

Happy weekend! We're heading to the zoo tomorrow to see the baby giraffe that just so happens to share a birthday with Will!

I'm thinking of trademarking it

A few weekends ago when we were in WV for our extended birthday celebrations, Will and I were waiting in the car for Jamison and Will was (per usual) getting more and more impatient by the second.

I tried to distract him, get him to look around, play a little game of "I spy" (I just typed "I spay" which would be a totally different game to play), anything to distract him. Finally, I just gave up and told Will that Jamison would be back in a minute, a little impatiently.

To this, Will said emphatically, "But I don't like minutes. I like nows!"

This probably explains him better in eight words than I could in eight paragraphs.

Birthday boy

I know, I know. I'm a terrible mother for not posting something on Will's actual birthday but we were too busy birthdaying to even think about writing. Will woke up Saturday morning with the knowledge that we were having cupcakes and he would get to wear a crown, which was the subject of much planning and speculation in the preceding days. He also knew that he wanted train tracks and a complex system of racecars, dominoes and obstacles for the dominoes to fall down, over and through. (He got both. And a Curious George compendium that's been in heavy rotation since.)

After beginning to make birthday waffles, our plans were put on hold as our electricity went out for some reason or other, which tends to happen around here every so often, usually at the most inconvenient of times. An hour or so later, Will's waffles were topped with Nutella and a whipped cream smiley face (we were out of syrup), with the smiley face being the crowning jewel of breakfast. His pure delight at something so small was pretty sweet.

*****

Later on, we were talking about what he wanted to do for his special day and he told me he wanted to jump at the "jumping place" with the leaf shape. I had no idea what this meant.

We went to get lunch and ended up at the mall, with the idea that Will could ride the train there and I could get the kids some much-needed warmer weather clothing. As we were walking in, Will shouted that we were at the jumping place.

I looked up and noticed that the mall's entrance has a leaf shape on the sign.

The "jumping place" that Will was referring to is in the food court of this mall. The last time he'd been to this jumping place? Last year. The Sunday before Laura was born. He got strapped into this huge bungy-harness thing on a trampoline but didn't go through with it. Ever since, whenever we pass the mall, he would say that he would jump there when he got bigger.

He was bigger this year. And he certainly remembered the jumping, but he was content to ride the train and romp around the little playground next to the train. (We kind of steered him away from the jumping, admittedly.)

***

Later, we had cupcakes and he got to blow out his candle and wear his crown. It was a good day on all accounts.

***

Will has been in a little bit of a difficult place for some time now. We've decided that it's time that we start to accept him for who he is instead of trying to make him into someone he'll never be. (Not abandoning discipline or anything crazy, obviously.) He'll never be perfectly behaved (is any kid, really?), he'll never be exceptionally quiet, and he'll never be all that gentle.

What he will be, what he already is, is full of life and enthusiasm. He is funny and observant and persistent. He is a lover of trains and cars and fast things and movement of any kind.  He is capable of remembering things that we've long since forgotten. He is a thoughtful big brother who tries his best to protect his little sister, to make her laugh and keep her entertained. He is exactly who he is. And he is wonderful.

PS. The pictures in the last post are driving me crazy. I'll attempt once again to fix them but I'm not making any promises...

PPS. A happy belated birthday also goes to Will's birthday buddy Ann!

Celebrating, redux

We're having all kinds of picture problems around these here parts. Attempt #2:



We've been doing a little celebrating around here the last little while, since Laura's big day was Monday and Will's is coming up on Saturday. Four and one. I'm still a little bit shocked that I'm really the mother of a four year old and a one year old.

(Digression: I was looking at a family picture of all of us while I was at my grandparents' house this past weekend. I was in about the 7th grade and, by my calculations, my mom would've been roughly my age. Now that is really hard for me to imagine. When we were moving me into my dorm room at the beginning of my first year of college, my parents looked like they were at least 20 years younger than the other parents around. My mom says she kept thinking that all the parents who were moving their daughters in were just especially helpful grandparents. We still laugh about it. I guess we'll be more in the "grandparent" set when we move Will and Laura in when they start college.)

Now, onto the festivities. We had cupcakes for Laura's actual birthday on Monday. She wasn't exceptionally enthusiastic about them but Will made up for it. Laura's indifference could also be due to the fact that I left out the buttermilk in the batter and they were a bit dry (and the result was a surprisingly heavy cupcake--I think they weighed about a pound each). She did, however, love when we sang to her and looked incredibly sweet in her (too small) crown. Will can't wait for his cupcakes and crown on Saturday.

Before the cupcakes, the kids had their party (yes, they will have joint parties as long as we can get away with it; thank goodness my reproductive organs cooperated and allowed for their birthdays to be so close) last weekend in WV at "the jumping place" as Will lovingly refers to it. He jumped until he was all jumped out, with a brief pit stop for some candle-blowing-out and some cake worked in there.

The party was a huge success, ending with Will proclaiming "I loved my party!" from the backseat just as we were leaving only to realize that we neglected to actually pay for the celebration. (Which wasn't that big of a deal, as the people who own the place know my parents and thus where to find us.) (We did turn around and pay, though, in case you were wondering.)

Will then had a weekend full of cousins, present opening (and horrible behavior, but I don't even feel like going into that right now) and doughnuts. He's been on spring break this week and I've enjoyed not getting everyone in and out of the car a million times for school drop off and pickup but I think Will is looking forward to resuming school on Monday.

Now, for some pictures, beginning with our celebration at home and ending with the party. (Will's cake had a whale on it, which doesn't show up in the pictures. It was a really cute cake, as was Laura's.) I'm having some difficulty with picture placement this morning and Laura has awakened from her nap, so I'm leaving these for now. I may (or may not) fix them later...











Hopefully this will work...finally. (Also, please note that this is my "lesbian" shirt in the background of that last picture and I am aware that it isn't exactly my best fashion choice. I got it this winter and although I've long been a lover of all things gingham and/or checked, I fear that this is a little too early-90s-Seattle-grunge-scene for my solidly Gap sensibilities. I realize that deeming a shirt "lesbian" isn't exactly pc but I lack a better term for it. [It should also be noted that I am staunchly in favor of Americans of all persuasions being given the rights that we heterosexuals enjoy and only mean the term in as endearingly as possible a way. Now that I've clarified that for my huge gay and lesbian contingent of readers...])

I really had no intention of ending this with a section devoted to my views on human rights.

Happy weekend!