Politics and Potties

Election season is finally upon us, after about 2 years of hearing about it constantly, and I have to say it looks like a total freakshow. I'm an Obama supporter, as you may have already guessed, and I'm feeling so fervently pro-Democrat this election that I stare into cars with "McCain/Palin" bumperstickers, as if trying to see into the drivers' souls. Or to shake my head disapprovingly at them. I just can't take it anymore! I mean, what is wrong with people in this country that we've elected a total jackass for two consecutive terms and are hearing the Republican message yet again? You know, I think McCain is actually a great candidate for the Republicans. He's sort of this straight-shooting, fiery, all-American guy with this rockin' military record (I mean, could we hear MORE about the POW experience? PLEASE?), and he has seemed, in the past, to genuinely think for himself. But no longer. I see him on the t.v. now and he looks like a worn-out old sack of potatoes with pancake makeup on. He's obviously exhausted from the campaign trail, and I can see that he's caving to the hate and fear-mongering conservative machine. He's sold his soul to Karl Rove et al. And he's got his ridiculous sidekick - an embarrassment to successful women everywhere - in her Naughty Monkey pumps. I do not know what is worse - the cheap shoes and party pony, or the fact that, in last night's interview with Katie Couric, she could not name a single publication she reads regularly. Excuse me? What if this woman became our president? It's not so unlikely, considering the looks of John McCain these days. He seems about to keel over at any moment. She's a terrifying heartbeat away from that, and everyone is so, so proud that the Republicans have a "lady" on the ticket. It's very, very awkward to see McCain and Palin in an interview together - they don't seem to know each other at all, and McCain keeps looking at Palin out of the corner of his eye as if he's afraid she might say something dumb. Guess what? In any case, I'm so watching the VP debate tomorrow night, just as I would watch a live train wreck were that to be televised on primetime.

I must take a break from politics for a while, or I will go nuts. My daughter started her preschool two weeks ago, and she's in heaven there. This year she goes two days a week, and I go with her only one of the days (the other day the other half of the moms go to help out the teacher). Some of the other kids are freaking out that their mommies aren't there certain days, but not my daughter. She's like, Bring it on! She's entered the state that, being my daughter, she will be in for the rest of her life, and that is the "Momentary Pretending to Have a Different Life State." She's like, "La-la-la, I'm a princess, and my dollies are my children, so of course I must put them to bed and I cannot come to dinner right now." Or, "La-la-la, I am a dinosaur in his nest, so this is where I pee instead of the toilet." Or, "That's not my mommy over there - you're my mommy. Can I go to your house and you can fix me a snack?" In my life it's, "La-la-la, since no one saw me eat that half-sheet of brownies, it didn't really happen." Or, "La-la-la, since I am fabulous I MUST have that (insert entirely unaffordable clothing item here), and I of course don't have to worry about how much it costs."

Anyway, Olivia loves school. She has attached herself to the teacher, and makes sure the teacher knows about everything she's doing. She also gets a kick out of the potties at school, and the fact that she can reach the sinks and squirt her own hand soap. Never in my life have I gone through so much hand soap or toilet paper as I have with a pottytraining toddler. These two items are the source of endless fascination for Olivia. Who needs a Teletubbies book or "Everyone Poops" when you've got paper that unrolls forever right next to you? The other thing she is very excited about at school is snacktime. She runs right up to the teacher when we arrive, asking, "Where's my snack?" and is very insistent about it all morning, and when the snack does show up she eats it all up; every . . . last . . . bite. Last year I had to struggle with her to get her to stay on her bottom on her seat and not wander around during snacktime. Not this year, boy. This year she sits right there and puts her napkin in her lap and pours her own water and studies every single cracker and piece of fruit as she consumes them. Then she wants seconds. Sheesh! Everyone else leaves, goes to the other room, music time starts. The mom in charge of snack cleans off all the tables and starts spraying the tables to sanitize them, and there's my daughter, still methodically eating her snack until it's all gone. I want to cheer for her and hold her up for everyone to look at - a shining example of good, healthy eating. But, sadly, no one is there to notice. They've all gone off to sing the "Cuckoo Clock" song.

My baby boy is doing great. He's such a jolly little fellow, really. He just wants to hang out and smile at me and squinch up his big blue eyes. He just seems to beam love and happiness. I really don't know what I did karma-wise to deserve such a peach of a child, but if there's one thing I've learned about happiness and contentment as a parent, it's that these things are always fleeting. I'm sure I'll get mine soon enough with him. He's going to be digging up the gay guys' gorgeous landscaping next door with his shovels and dump trucks when he's three, or smoking pot and running around with the class ho in middle school - just you wait. He turned 6 months old a couple of weeks ago, and I started feeding him "real" food. He can't seem to get enough of it, and squawks now if not invited to sit up at the table with us and be a part of things.

I think every day about whether I want to have another baby. I know, I know - it's crazy, it's too soon to worry about that. But I am a planner, and I'm somewhat perplexed that I'm not completely decided about this issue and planning my life around it. Aside from the fact that I don't know if I could mentally or physically handle a third child, I'm obsessed with the idea of having to get a mini-van. This seems like it would be the absolute end of any semblance of a stylish existence I may still cling to. But it also would be kind of awesome. Here's the thing; if I could just have a mini-van, but I wouldn't ever have to look at it from the outside - like, I would be somehow just beamed into the inside of it and settled all comfortably into my seat, I could totally rock the mini-van. Because I think the inside experience of a mini-van is exceptional. It's like riding around on a big comfy couch. And now you can get the mini-vans with DVD players and giant built-in coolers. Almost like you don't even need to leave your living room. But I just can't stand the way mini-vans look from the outside. Even in black. They just seem to scream, "I've got a big fat ass, and I don't care!" There are no chic mini-vans. But I continue my search . . .