Hit Me With Your Best Shot

I shouldn't be afraid to vaccinate my child, but when my daughter received her infamous one-year shots, I was. Thanks to celebrities like Jenny McCarthy (who insists that her son's autism was caused by his immunizations) and uber-crunchy, hippy moms who breastfeed their kids into high school (and therefore certainly don't vaccinate), vaccinations nation-wide are on the decline. Between last January and June, there were 131 reported cased of measles in the U.S., the highest number in 12 years. The fear-mongering, it seems, has trickled down from the highest levels of government to big-breasted celebrities. As if I don't feel guilty enough for what I do or don't do as a mother (go to work? you're neglectful...give your kid juice? you're setting her up for obesity and type 2 diabetes), now I have to hear about how every other celeb mom feels about vaccinating, as if being a celebrity and having a medical degree are mutually exclusive. I don't doubt that vaccinations can possibly instigate problems in some kids who are already predisposed to them, but to say that vaccines cause autism is dangerous and unfair. Besides, we seem to be missing the larger picture: a child with autism can live and thrive; a child with the measles (or mumps or small pox) very well may die. Personally, I'd rather have a child with autism than to say I had one that died from the measles.

Winter Wonderland

Well, it's here. Winter has finally come to South Dakota. Here in the extreme eastern part of the state, the snow is wet and heavy and somewhat resembles a K-Mart slushie. In the western part of the state, however, the snow may be the same consistency, but that's where the similarities end. Deadwood and Lead received about 47 inches of snow, according to reports, while the corridor from Rapid City to Spearfish received somewhere between 12-18 inches. Sixty-mile an hour wind gusts caused drifts 10-12 feet high across the central part of the state, stranding over 300 motorists. By the time the storm reached us in the east, it had become weak and deflated. As a result, we only received about 3-5 inches, which is just fine with me. It's just enough to encourage me to curl up on the couch with a blanket, a cup of tea and a stack of essays. Winter Wonderland indeed.

Amazing Grace

After nearly two years of debates, caucuses, and speeches, America has elected Barack Obama as its next President. This presidential election was the third since I became old enough to vote but the first in which the candidate I voted for actually won. I believed in Obama's ability to change what's for so long been broken; I believed in his message of hope for a brighter future; I believed in the strength of his character and the courage of his convictions. Seeing him elected our next president brought sobs to my throat. I still believe in Barack Obama and I believe he will lead our nation and unite our people as no president has done before. I admire his determination to make our country a better place for our children and I respect both his political ideals and his family values. Several years from now, in the not so distant future, my daughter will ask me what she should be when she grows up. "Absolutely anything you want to be," I'll be able to honestly tell her. Barack Obama has just proved that it's possible.

Growing Older But Not Up

Jimmy Buffet lyrics aside, growing older but not up seems to be the common theme for our society lately. We are perpetually trying to look younger, act younger, be younger. Fifty year old women and seventy year old men have babies; ninety year old men pop Viagra like Chicklets; celebrities gush about plasitic surgery and Botox injections; Miley Cyrus is the epitome of tween entertainment.

All of this would be fine, except most of the adults I know (either directly or indirectly) insist upon acting like spoiled children apporximately 85 percent of the time. I know a pregnant twenty-one year old whose mother still does her laundry and butters her pancakes. I know a twenty-four year old mother of three who would rather amass hundreds of friends on facebook than pay attention to her own children (which is perhaps why they keep ending up in state custody). I know a fifty-five year old man who won't even cut his own meat - his wife cuts it for him. Approximately ten percent of my students (who are university students, remember) can't even string together a subject and a verb in order to create a complete sentence. And as the epitome of this refusal to grow up, two high school classmates of mine recently sent me nasty messages on facebook, all because I said I didn't like their kids' names (seriously girls, get over yourselves).

I understand that childhood is great and fabulous and something we should all cherish forever and always, but it's time that adults start acting like adults. We need to leave the whining and crying and tantrum-throwing to the kids and accept the fact that we have to grow up. We have to do our own laundry and make our own pancakes. We have to take care of our children. We have to cut our own food and pour our own drinks. Some people may not like us. Some people may make nasty comments about us. Sending nast e-mails and throwing fits and avoiding responsibility gets us nowhere. Acting like children only teaches our children that they'll never have to grow up or own up to their actions. That's certainly not the message that I want to send to my children.

You Say It's Your Birthday

And what a fabulous birthday it's been.

Therein lies the problem with writing; it's very difficult to convey sarcasm via text. I realize that my days of piniatas and birthday cake are over, but I don't think that just because I'm over the age of eleven I should forget about my birthday all together. Or perhaps I should; that way, it's not as big of a disappointment when it sucks. Last year on my birthday I was about eight weeks pregnant and I ate oatmeal for dinner. This morning my hair salon called to say that I'd have to see someone other than my regular stylist tomorrow because my stylist was in labor...and it's her birthday too. So I suppose my birthday could be worse.

Why have I had such a bad birthday? It's been just like any other day. I've been home all day with an angry baby, annoying dogs, and a pile of papers that gets bigger every time I look away. As children, our parents teach us that our birthday is our very own special day, and for that day, we can do whatever we want (stay up late, eat ice cream for dinner) and no one can say boo about it. Once we reach adulthood, however, birthdays get ignored, forgotten about, or just plain avoided so that we may avoid the fact that we're getting older. Our cultural preoccupation with staying young (and more importantly, looking young) has led to the annihilation of the adult birthday celebration.

I'm not saying that I need a huge party (I'd prefer not, actually), or a piniata, or even a birthday cake. All I want is a day that's a little different than all the rest.

Carry On my Wayward Son

Carry on, indeed. After a lackluster week in what critics have deemed the best season of American Idol yet, the American public has voted off four more contestants. I called two of them correctly, Jason Yaeger and Alexandrea Lushington, but the dismissal of Alaina Whittaker and Robbie Carrico is rather surprising. In a week when contestants missed notes, missed steps, and just missed the mark all together, I wouldn't have been surprised if the show's producers had decided to eliminate eight contestants instead of four in an attempt to save America some precious time and embarassment next week. That Luke Menard and Amanda Overmyer are still around proves that AI's viewers are just as tone deaf as Paula Abdul, since it seems as though only Dawson's Creek fans and those ready to ressurrect Janis Joplin would vote for these two.



The boys have a clear advantage over the girls, with 17 year-old David Archuletta far in front of everyone. Jason Castro has awesome potential, as does David Hernadez, gay stripper though he may be (see here ). Carly Smithson and Syesha Mercado are the only girls who seem to have both vocal and performance skills, but whether they can triumph over the purity of David Archuletta's voice remains to be seen.

At least all of the contestants this year share one thing in common: talent. After the distaster that was Sanjaya last season, I wasn't sure if I've ever watch Idol again. But despite average performances both weeks thus far, this season is already much better than seasons past. The addition of musical instruments adds a nice twist, and the lack of celebrity "help" reminds viewers that AI is indeed a vocal competition and not just another platform on which celebrities with forhtcoming albums can promote themselves (think last season's celebs: Barry Manilow, Gwen Stefani, Jennifer Lopez...).

Hopefully the themes of each week will improve along with the contestants themselves. If not, viewers may decide that they're the wayward son who needs to move on, and with the writer's strike at an end and new tv to return any time now, I can't say that I'd blame them.

Mr. Roboto

What is it with men and 80's fitness movies? My husband, who was home sick today, is watching The Karate Kid. I didn't think it was acceptable for anyone over the age of 15 to watch The Karate Kid. I've never even seen The Karate Kid. All I know about the movie is that its plot revolves around a puny little boy who's taught karate by some old Asian dude, probably named Mr. Roboto or something. I'm sure at the end the "Karate Kid" ends up beating up whomever was taunting him (thus the reason he had to learn karate) and winning the cute girl in the class. Movies clearly haven't changed much in the last 20 years. Although it could be worse...I'll probably wake up in the morning to Rambo.