I went to download some work pictures today and came across these.
I get the setup: here are two adorable children rounding up their brain cells and exterminating them in little cerebral gulags by subjecting themselves to some sort of loathsome kidvid. But what the heck else have they been doing?
Why does the Peeper have what appears to be flour on his forehead? Is this some sort of bizarre offering to the Domestic Goddess of Baking, like the ash mark on the brow you get for Ash Wednesday?
Why are they in the glider, which no one but Mojo ever sits in for more than ten seconds?
Either way, they're awful sweet, and I'm hoping to have some fun with them this weekend. I feel like I've been doing a LOT of talking about politics and war and everything but my peeps and our family, which is, frankly, the best thing I've got. Wars and lechery are all very well, but at the end of the day what you have banked is your home and your job and your friends and your family. Regardless of who wins in November little girls are going to need their eggies every morning, and little peepers are going to want to scooter down to the playground.
So I want to give myself a break from all the Big Issues and talk a little bit about less contentious matters. Why kindergartners love table saws. How to get high huffing Plastic Wood while finishing your daughter's bedroom windows. What motivates people to go shopping at WinCo in sequined titty tops.
So I'll start with these cuties.
One last political thing, though.
I dropped Missy off at daycare this morning so Mojo and the Peep could do a mother-son bonding thing scootering over to Astor for K-garten. Now we like our little "Imagination Station" daycare and Brandy, the woman who runs it. But the past year has seen some pretty savage staff turnover, and when I got there today poor Teacher Nicole was alone with a baby and two - with Missy, three - toddlers. Poor Little Miss was very clingy and I just didn't feel right leaving her there with one adult. So I stayed and played with Mister Sun and Giant Baby and Missy and little Jake and the two littler toddler girls until Teacher Sandy showed up.
The problem was - I was due on a site at 7:30 and I didn't leave daycare until 7:10. I was late, of course. And that was OK; my little girl comes first. But it drove home the extent to which the smooth function of our lives depends on an ad-hoc organization staffed by badly paid semiprofessionals. Something happens to daycare? Someone's - Mojo's or my - workday goes to hell.
This isn't top-flight daycare. But even then it costs one third of my paycheck every month. A third. Between the mortgage and daycare a full 3/5ths to 2/3rd of my salary vanishes before the sun sets on the first day after my monthly payday.
And the other issue is that, having found a daycare that works and we can afford, to move the kids to another would be a real pain in the ass. Almost a deal-breaking PITA. We'd hate it, and I'm concerned that it might make us tend to overlook and forgive problems we'd otherwise be all over.
You want to give me "change I can believe in", Obama? McSame? Fuck the carrier air groups and the prescription drug bills: find a way to help out financially and qualitatively with our daycare.
Any comments, ideas, or wild suggestions? Hit me with your best shot!