Tuesday, 11 March 2008

I'm still alive!

My internet and I are having a minor disagreement. I hope to have it all straightened out soon! I miss you, and I'm going through withdrawls!

Wednesday, 5 March 2008

Mr. G and the Bigger Picture.

Finnigan and I went to Winners today (Winners - You Should Go...) and this was in the super-clearance-practically-free-somebody-take-it bin. Finnigan looooooooooooooooooves him. He looked so happy chewing on his "find" all through the store, I didn't have the heart to leave his new object of affection behind. Plus, well, it was $1. I'm guessing it was $1 because it only has one arm. So, it is with much pride and excitement that I introduce to you, my beloved readers, the newest member of our family.

Mr. G, the one armed Giraffe.

You know, I think this is great. Finnigan doesn't see a "broken" toy, he sees a friend. He sees a soft, smiling giraffe play pal to lay some lovin' on. This misfit toy makes him smile. It makes him giggle that throaty little baby giggle that only little boys can make. He chewed on it rightside up, upside down, and all kinds of sideways. He took his nap today with Mr. G clenched tightly in his pudgy fisted kung-foo baby death grip. He doesn't see anything "different" about this giraffe. He didn't pick this giraffe over any of the other toys because he felt sorry for it. He didn't have to reach some stupid quota that needed to be maintained in his toybox. He just saw something to love, and he loved it.
Society is all about "integration". Blacks and whites and blues and greens and gays and straights and curvys and anyone missing a leg, a finger, or an ear are always trying to "integrate". We're all trying to prove that we're just as good as everyone else. We're all trying to prove that we're tolerant of everyone else. "See? Look at me! I have the requisite 6 blacks, 3 gays, 17 women and a guy in a wheelchair! Look! There they are!" All this does is point out that these people are black/gay/women/in a wheelchair. Is that the first thing we should be noticing about eachother? No. How about instead, your boss were to say "Here's Steve. Steve is PERFECT for his job." Wouldn't that feel better? Wouldn't that make your company FUNCTION better? If the person who was best for that position got the job, instead of just the best person in his "category"? What if we didn't have quotas and fears of being "politically correct", and instead surrounded ourselves with people who had the brains and talent and personalities that fit what we needed? I know it's a big leap from a one-armed stuffed giraffe to becoming a truly "blind" society, but that's why you have all that grey gunk between your ears. It's not just to keep your eyeballs from falling in. Saying "Blacks and Whites (for example) are equal!" is Stupid. Yes, with a capital "S". All that sentence does is categorize us as black or white. I personally don't care if you're black or white or walk on your hands. Do you contribute to our relationship, or do you contaminate it? Because if you contaminate it, it's not going to matter what kind of "special" you are. Would you retain a female employee who's performance wasn't up to snuff just because she's a woman? Just because politically you need to have some women around? What if there was a man who could do that job 10x better? Not everything is about the package, people. When will we start judging people based on what they bring to the table, instead of how they balance out our imaginary minority scale?
Let's take a lesson from a small boy and his beloved giraffe. Stop calling attention to peoples' differences just to prove how accepting you are of them. Ignore the differences. Pay attention to what's important. The relationships. At work, rest, and play.

Tuesday, 4 March 2008

"Minds of Little Children" is an Oxymoron.

When given the "choice" today, Finnigan crawled OVER his big ol' bucket of toys, and tried to eat the dustpan. He also pulled a stack of plates over instead of eating his dinner, ate the strings on my sweatshirt instead of his puffs, and used his walker as a bumper car instead of walking around in the clear spaces.

When left to their own devices today, instead of playing with the eight jillion dollars worth of toys they own, the girls played "ice hockey" using one swiffer mop, one broom, an empty container from Finn's babyfood, and the china hutch as a goal net. In complete bridal & princess regalia, might I add.

Lesson One: Children don't need toys. They only need things called "Don't Touch That".

Lesson Two: Veils are not terribly conducive to accurate "scoring".

Lesson Three: The stack of plates/puck heading towards your plate glass doored china hutch/baby wanting to eat that dustpan will ALWAYS be faster than you. Always.

BTW, the Bride won - 89 15 a trillion to 4 hundred 11-teen.

Sunday, 2 March 2008

How To Be...

How To Be Lillian:
  • Walk like a baby giraffe. Fall often, though no obstacles are in your way.
  • Stick your wet finger in a light socket to achieve the appropriate hair do.
  • Talk. Incessantly. Usually with attitude.
  • Collect rocks for no apparent reason.

How To Be Rachel:

  • Seek. Destroy.
  • Look innocent at all times, and always blame your sister.
  • Do anything for anyone, anytime.
  • Wear a tiara.

How To Be Finnigan:

  • Be small and cute.
  • Pull hair, bite whenever possible. Think that this is hysterical.
  • Eat, sleep, repeat.
  • Give Mommy 51% of your heart, Sophie gets 26%, and 23% for everyone else.

Saturday, 1 March 2008

Rachel the Cosmetologist/Tattoo Artist

This is Barbie as I found her. Barbie's colouring is due to a blue ballpoint pen. When questioned about it, Rachel said, "Mom, how did you know it was me?"

Rachel, honey, next time you commit a random act of vandalism, don't sign it.