My friend Heather tells me not to do it.  But I do it anyway.

Watch Oprah, that is.

I can’t help it; she has some really great shows.

Even though sometimes she sticks her foot in her mouth, smack dab in the middle of a really great show.

Such was the case last week.

The show to which I refer was about marriage and how different countries/societies view it.  It really was rather interesting.  Until it became annoying, that is.

She had a correspondent visit Cairo and interview two different camps of women there: the ones with scarves (who cloak all but their faces) and the ones without.  This segment illustrates perfectly why I like Oprah; it was utterly intriguing to hear from those women firsthand and gain a better understanding of why they do what they do.

Next up was an Indian couple who had married via an arranged union.  Talk about fascinating.  I cannot imagine such a thing, yet here was this couple–happily married for five years–who thought nothing of their lack of courtship.  I couldn’t imagine such a life.  Yet, by the end of their interview, I’d come to respect them immensely for the blind commitment they’d made to one another.

Up to this point I thought it was a great episode.

And then?

Then.

During a discussion on marriage in America, Oprah–who is yet to be married, mind you–went and said something to the effect of, everybody wants to be married but nobody wants to be the wife.  In this case, by “the wife” she was referring to the partner who sacrifices his or her own career to nurture the family.

Now I’ve never been a career-oriented girl myself.  I knew from a very early age that the job I wanted would not require a fancy degree or an internship in some Fortune 500.  What I wanted to be was a mom.  I didn’t have aspirations to travel the globe and make millions.  My aspirations were much smaller.  More localized.  And they fit quite nicely into a three bedroom ranch house, picket fence and all.

As it turns out, the picket fence never materialized but the “career” I longed for is everything I’d dreamed it would be.  My days overflow with laundry and dishes and groceries.  I make appointments.  Wheat bread.  Dinner.  I mediate and balance and tidy.  I’m a teacher.  A taxi driver.  A nurse and a dietitian.  I’m a damn good travel agent.  A counselor.  Banker.  Spiritual adviser.  I tie up loose ends and untangle knotty messes.  I address, undress and redress.  Bathe and bandage.  Soothe and simplify.  I’m nothing at all to most people but everything that matters to a select few.  My job is to make soft the edges of this life–for the ones most precious to me.  I do it every day and I like to think I do it well.  And while it certainly is far from easy, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.  Of that much I’m sure.

Something tells me that I’m not alone in that either.

Each day I visit the blogs of women just like me.  Maybe not my size or my height or with the same color hair.  But women who sacrifice and rejoice, sweat and cry–all whilst pouring their hearts into the people who come home at the end of every day.  They–like me–are “the wife”.

And proud to be.

I would be remiss not to point out that Oprah has–time and again–stated that moms have the hardest jobs in the world.  She’s right you know; we do.  And–in spite of what she said–Oprah does seem to have a great deal of respect for mothers from all walks of life.  So I’m sure that the “wife” comment was a slip of the tongue.

But it was one I noticed.

It didn’t offend me.  But it did annoy me.  It annoyed me because there are a lot of women who would give anything and everything to be “the wife”.  One of them being my friend Erin, who tomorrow morning will leave her two beautiful baby boys to go back to work.  Her maternity leave has come to an end.  And her heart is aching at the impending leaving she must do.

She wants to be “the wife”.

Many of you give thanks every day for your wifeliness.

I am honored to be “the wife”.  And grateful for the blessings that allow me to do so.

So my dear Ms. Winfrey, I can assure you that not every woman in America is itching to get out the door so fast, in pursuit of success.

Some of us have found it.

Right here at home.

I’ve been sort of swamped with writing deadlines, so I’ve been a bit scarce here at the Spot.

I did, however, want to pop in briefly and tell  you about something I heard about via my girl, Heather.

I don’t watch the news so I wouldn’t have known about this otherwise…but apparently our fearless leader has decided to take his message to the airwaves.  President Obama plans to address the nation’s school children this coming Tuesday.  His address will air at noon, eastern time.

From what I understand, his message is being described as one that emphasizes the importance of staying in school and civic duty.  Further, and more disturbing in my opinion, teachers are being asked to incorporate a lesson plan into the speech that will ask questions like:

-What is the President asking me to do?

-Are we able to do what President Obama is asking of us?

- What new ideas and actions is the President challenging me to think about?

I, for one, am not the least bit comfortable with this for many reasons, most of which I unfortunately don’t have time to go into right now.  Suffice it to say, though, that I’ve sent emails/made calls to the principals of the schools where my daughters attend.  I’ve politely inquired whether or not our schools will be participating in this indoctrination “opportunity”.  When I was given an affirmative answer, I asked whether or not alternate programming would be available for those students whose parents did not wish for their children to participate.  At first, my question was blown off.  I’m happy to report, though, that the principal of that school later called me personally to explain that since my question was initially posed, she’d engaged in discussion with other area principals and had since taken an undecided stance on the school’s participation.  I’m confident now that if the school does indeed participate, it will be on a volunteer basis and not something that each and every child is subject to.

I’m happy to hear that.

Otherwise, I know of at least three impressionable young minds who would have been mysteriously absent come Tuesday.

Just thought I’d pass along the info.  FYI.  You may want to get some answers from your own principals.  Unless, of course, socialism is your thing.

If you’ve read my 100 Things About Me post you know that I cringe at the sound of the “R” word.  Likewise, I also take offense when I hear jokes being made about the “shortbus” or Special Olympics.  You can imagine, then, how appalled I was to see the President of our country mock Special Olympians on national television.  If you haven’t seen it, it will take but 29 seconds of your day to watch this clip.

If your life has not been touched by a person with developmental delays you may not understand why those of us who have are deeply offended by the callous words of a man with such great influence over so many.  Allow me to explain.

Not too long ago this man would have been crazy to even have dreamed of holding the office he holds now.  There was a time when men and women who share his skin color and have similar heritage were mocked, beaten, and segregated based on their pigmentation alone.

One would think that the struggles and pain of those who share his African American background would have given this man great insight as to the underside of discrimination.  One would assume that knowing what he knows, this man would be especially compassionate.  One would hope beyond hope that this man–especially this man–would be capable of leading honorably and setting a strong example that all Americans could follow.

Unfortunately though, this man has fallen heinously short.

There is nothing funny, cute, or endearing about the mocking of an organization as instrumental as the Special Olympics.  Special Olympians are heroes who’ve faced tremendous struggle and great hardship and have come out stronger for having done so.  People with developmental disabilities should not be used as an easy target for quips.  Especially by the President of our country and especially when a national audience is tuned in.

I can think of a word that conjures up hateful connotations towards a huge population of ethnic people in this country.  It’s a word that you or I would be ashamed to use, ashamed to teach our children, ashamed to have heard in our homes, schools, and churches.  It’s a dirty word, not because of its meaning, but because of its history.  Its a word that has historically been used to inflict pain on an entire population of people.  People who did nothing to deserve the treatment that fell upon them.  People who were persecuted for simply BEING.

It’s a word I wouldn’t dream of using.

I wish that Mr. Obama would pay me the same courtesy when it comes to being sensitive about the struggles my family faces with regard to my daughter’s disability.

Like him–like each and every one of us–she had no say as to the mental, genetic, or physical state she was born into.  But with each label that is slapped on her, with each disparaging comment that is thrown around, she is made to seem less worthy than she really is.

I am saddened and disheartened that the President of our country would stoop so low as to disparage people who have done no wrong.  I am appalled that there has been no public outrage over an incident that so clearly deserves it. I shudder to imagine what would have happened if our previous President had gone on national television and said the same thing.  Can you even imagine the outcry that would have commenced had that happened?

Whether we are talking about people with developmental disabilities or members of any ethnic group, discrimination is a wretched thing and should long ago have been abolished.

There is something each of us can do to institute change.

We can pledge to stop the frivolous use of the “R” word in our homes and in our families.  We can stop using terms like ‘shortbus’ because they garner us an easy laugh.  We can respect the Special Olympics organization as a great resource for children like mine, not an easy target for jokes and mockery.  Together, we can change the way our society reacts to demeaning usage of the “R” word.

YES WE CAN.

And I hope you will.

I live in a relatively large city.  As with other cities of comparable size we require a variety of doctors and specialists to treat the population.

Cassidy’s visual needs require that she see a pediatric ophthalmologist on a regular basis.  Up until a few years ago this wouldn’t have been a problem.

But then one of the local pediatric ophthalmologists went and hired a hit-man to kill the other pediatric ophthalmologist, a move that effectively eradicated both of their practices.

When all was said and done one family was left without a father/husband.  That in itself was awful enough but it didn’t end there; an entire city’s worth of children are now left without a single doctor who specializes in pediatric ophthalmology.

So we make due.

Like Cass and I did today.

Let me rewind for a second.

Last week I noticed that Cassidy’s glasses are beginning to look like a scratching pad for the cat.  Only we don’t have a cat.  The scratches on her lenses are likely the result of repeatedly being thrown to the ground in frustration.  By her.  Not me.  Regardless of how they came to look like that I figured we should probably go ahead and replace them.  Lest she think that God had a real sense of humor as he went about creation.

Noting that her prescription had expired I called the doctor’s office.  Not a peds doctor mind you.  But the doctor we see is one of the few in town that will work with children.  We were last there in August and I told him that we wouldn’t be needing a new prescription at that time.  I figured they would have made note of it in her file though and that it would be simple enough to fax something to the vision center, right?

Wrong.

I was told that I would have to pay $25 for a prescription.

What the &%$#?

Isn’t that what our co-pay went towards in August?

Apparently not.

Apparently prescriptions require refractions.  And refractions are not covered by insurance.  Each and every time I want a prescription we will pay a $25 fee in addition to the $30 co-pay.

Of course.  Makes perfect sense.

This does not make me happy but I’m left with few options.  So I proceed to schedule an appointment with the technician so that she can give Cassidy a refraction.  The appointment was today at 10:15.

After wrangling and dressing and grooming Cassidy and Jayce we left the house 45 minutes prior to the appointment.

It’s a long drive.

One that requires a significant amount of gas.

Which is not cheap btw.

We arrived five minutes early for the appointment like a good patient should.

I wasn’t exactly thrilled when, upon checking in, the office staff seemed puzzled as to why I would be bringing a child in for a refraction.  They proceeded to argue discuss the matter amongst themselves, though my proximity made me privy to the whole thing.  I’m not fluent in Spanish so I can’t say exactly what was said.  I will say though that Señor Fisher from Spanish 1A did teach me well enough to know that when she said niña, the technician was referring to Cass.

Eventually it was explained to me that the doctor prefers to do all the refractions on young children.

I wasn’t immediately perturbed.

No problem.  I guess I’ll just have to wait for him to fit us in then.

Or not.

The doctor, it seemed, was not in today.

So basically I was left with but one option: make yet another appointment for yet another day.

No problem.

Just forget that I just drove 90 miles round trip for ABSOLUTELY no reason.

Just forget the boatload of things I could have been productively completing at home.

Just forget that now I’ll likely have to pull Cass out of school for an appointment that seems entirely ridiculous to begin with.

No biggie.

It’s just time right?

I’m thinking that when I go in for this next appointment I’m going to smuggle in some white-out.

I plan on making a few friendly revisions to the “missed appointments” policy they so proudly display.

My mind is preoccupied tonight.

I sat down intending to write a post that would have been almost identical to this one.  It appears as though Amy saved me the trouble though.  Apparently wise minds think alike.  Gotta love her. 

We’re watching election results roll in.

Both Pennsylvania and Ohio have been projected to be Obama states.

That’s really bad news.

Really, really bad news.

My stomach is turning.  My shoulders are tense with worry for what is almost sure to come.  My heart is incredibly heavy.

I don’t know what to say.

I wish I could be more faithful.  Like Jo-Lynne was when she said this.

I’ve been trying to convince myself that what she says is true.  Somewhere down deep I know she’s right.  And yes, I’m comforted by it.

But, alas, the flesh of me worries on.

I’ve always been a glass-half-empty kind of girl.  No doubt about that.

Right now I’m worrying about Torri’s college education fund.  And our already faltering economy.  And too many more things to document.

I certainly won’t go so far as to say that I’d rather move out of the country than live in a nation led by Mr. Obama.

I love this country.  And the ideals it was founded on.

I love capitalism and the opportunities my family and I are afforded by merely being Americans.

That is why my heart feels the weight of this outcome.

I worry that under this man’s guidance, our great nation will lose much of what our forefathers worked for and believed in, and ultimately gifted to us.

I mourn for the nation I idealize.  The nation I believe our founding fathers intended.  One in which Americans work hard and are rewarded for their efforts.

I fear wealth distribution.  I fear it not because it would drastically affect someone with an income as modest as ours, but because of the precedent it sets.

I fear a government run health care system.  I’m a former military spouse and having been part of a universal health care system I can definitively say that privatized health care is a far, far superior system.

I could go on.  But I don’t want to.  I feel an ulcer developing.

I know that come tomorrow morning I will wake with that uneasy feeling that something terrible has happened.  And for a moment, before I fully shake the haze of sleep, I won’t be able to place that apprehension.  Soon enough though I will remember.  I will remember the outcome of this election and the reasons for my anguish.

Though it’s hard to see any bright side at the moment, I do believe that we live in the greatest country in the world.  No matter who sits in the oval office.  I’m uncertain though, about our future.  And because I am concerned I will pray, and pray hard, for our President.  That he will lead with discernment.  I will pray for our nation.  That we don’t throw away the ideals on which our country was founded, but rather travel a path to realign with the values of our predecessors.

Mostly I’ll pray for big picture topics.  Really, I will.  But I can’t guarantee that I won’t also send up a prayer that this reign not last more than four years.

Good luck ya’ll.  We’re going to need it.

I watched Oprah today.  

I know the dangers of talking politics on my blog (I might offend someone-like I’ve never done that  before) but I can’t really hold my tongue on this one.  It really wouldn’t have bothered me so much had it not come on the heels of that Presidential debate last night.

Today’s show was supposed to deliver money saving tips for families like mine.  It promised to give all kinds of hints as to how we could uncover tons of money that we’re already making and, apparently, blowing, all without knowing it.

I guess Oprah has never seen my checkbook.

I’m one of those who balances the checkbook down to the penny.  Every other day.  I also log on to my credit card account sites and rectify those with my own records each and every week.  At any given moment I can tell you exactly what the balance of my checking, savings, and credit card accounts are.  Because I’m wild and free like that.

Anyway, on today’s Oprah she opened the show with some yahoo coming on and explaining why our country is facing an economic crisis.  And how this gigantic mess started because “all of us” chose to live beyond our means and accept loans and mortgages for far more than “we” knew “we’d” ever be able to repay.  This bail out, he explained, is necessary because of the collective poor financial choices “we’ve” all made.

Um, all of us?  Really?

Because last I checked my husband and I very carefully considered and reconsidered the amount of money we were willing to borrow.  And when we built our house we weighed which options were most important to us because we knew we couldn’t afford all the things we wanted. 

It was a novel idea really. 

We created a budget.  We stuck to it. 

Shocking, I know.

Yet, in spite of all that planning and disciplined decision making we’re being lumped in with a group of Americans who didn’t take those same precautions.

It’s all a bit frustrating.

Please don’t include me in that group of entitled folks who chose instant gratification over calculated decision making.

I’m totally over entitlement.

There is a well-known Senator from Illinois who exacerbates this mentality.  I watched the debate the other night and had to keep from choking myself when he spoke.  Because here’s the thing:

When the Declaration of Independence was penned, it set forth certain rights for us.  Those are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.  Notice that we aren’t guaranteed happiness, rather, we are guaranteed the right to pursue it.  They didn’t guarantee us large homes, SUV’s, or even health care.  What they did was establish for us the opportunity to earn all of the above if we so desire.  Not have those things handed to us on a silver platter.

As Americans we are not limited by the things that people in other parts of the world are limited by.  We don’t have militia men raping our women and stealing our children.  Women in this country are free, encouraged even, to go to college and be every bit as successful as their male counterparts.  We can practice whatever religion we are compelled to practice.  We can live and believe and be.  And these things, these things are the gifts that come hand in hand with being an American.

Everything else?  Everything else you work for. 

You see because the fact that a fellow American has more wealth than you or I do does not entitle either of us to that person’s fortune.  Contrary to what that certain Senator might think.

I heard him use the word fair over and over again in that debate the other night.  Didn’t his Momma tell him that life isn’t fair?

Is it fair that a wealthy person pay upwards of 25% of his or her income in taxes when someone with less of an income pay 15% or less?  No.  It isn’t.  Spin it anyway you want but the answer remains.  It’s not fair.  We all live here and drive the same roads and have the opportunity to send our kids to the same public schools.  So why shouldn’t we all pay the same percentage of our income in taxes?  Why isn’t there an across the board tax rate?  I’ll tell you why.  Because not everything in life is fair.  It’s a valuable lesson and I truly believe we’d go a lot further if everyone learned it. 

I guess I should stop now because I’ve likely offended two or three of you.

In closing, I’ll just say this: remember that list Kennedy wanted me to make, calling out people who smell bad?

Well, I’m not naming any names, but there happens to be a certain Socialist Senator at the top of it.  And that freak who was on Oprah today isn’t far behind.