Personal Blog of Author Kathryn Thompson
Laylee was playing Polly Pockets with a grownup friend the other day. I wasn’t around but here’s the way I heard it went down.
Laylee: This dress is beautiful.
Marge: Yeah.
Laylee: But it’s not modest.
Marge: Hmm..
Laylee: Should she wear it?
Marge: I don’t know. What do you think?
Laylee [carefully considering]: I think she should wear it. There’s no Heavenly Father in Polly’s world so it’s probably okay.
Speaking of evil empires, I canNOT stop listening to this guy. Can. Not.
It’s that time again. February is almost upon us so it’s time to Share the Love. Go on over and nominate someone you love today. I’m excited to find some new reads. (I’m ineligable due to your ridiculous kindness last year.)
I was recently babysitting for a friend’s daughter, an adorable little 2-year-old elf who can spell her 3-syllable last name perfectly. She reminds me of a corporate executive in miniature with bulbous pig-tale buns, marching around the house and calling me by my last name.
“Thompson! Excuse me! What does this toy do?”
“Hey THOMPSON! Excuse me! Where are you?”
I spent the morning laughing at her polite attempts at dictatorship and asking her to spell things and coach Magoo at football.
At one point she and Magoo got into a tiff about something in which one was yelling yes and the other was yelling no. They stood about 5 inches apart, hollering at each other until they forgot whose job it was to say “yes” and who was rooting for “no” to win.
Half an hour later, I was called onto the field or into the boardroom or whatever.
Olive: Thompson! Who’s in that picture?”
Me: Me and Laylee’s Dad.
Olive: What are you doing?
Me: We’re drinking soda.
Olive: But what are you doing, Thompson?
Me: Drinking soda.
Olive: No. You’re kissing.
Me: No we’re not.
Olive: Yes. You’re kissing.
Me: No. [pulling the picture down] See, we’re just drinking soda from two straws that are very close together.
Olive [eyeing the photo suspiciously]: O-kaaay.
Then she was off with purposeful steps, her hair bouncing sweetly behind her. My word! I need to get me a kid like that. Acutally, I don’t need a kid like that. I think I would die from the cuteness.
Then Laylee punched her in the face. I really hope her mom doesn’t mind large red facial welts. She could have fallen asleep on her arm. Sometimes that leaves a mark. Ayayay.
I do want to point out my favorite parts of this picture, the parts no one notices, the reasons I still keep it framed in my front room.
#1 — The tadpole — This picture was taken right after I peed on a stick, saw a double pink line for the first time and announced it to my entire family. What could be more romantic than that? I bet you’d share a soda in public too if it happened to you.
#2 — This guy — He would not share a soda. I love the horrified look on his face. “Are they kissing? At an outdoor theater? Does this lawn chair come with a vomit receptacle?”
I now close my eyes tightly, throw a penny in our backyard puddle and wish that guy was available to make facial commentary in the background of all our family photos.
Is your infant enrolled in preschool for the 2009-2010 school year? Slacker! Has she taken the Pre-MCATs yet? The horror!
Ever since reading Jenny’s post about preschool registration, I have become completely obsessed with the process and it’s bringin’ me down, man. It’s gettin’ me low….
Today is Blog for Choice Day and posts are popping up everywhere in support of Roe v. Wade and a woman’s right to choose.
The labels that fly around show the biases of those who wield them. I could be called “pro-life”, “anti-abortion”, “anti-choice”, “crazy conservative religious wacko” or any number of names due to the fact that with the ability to choose, I believe there comes a moral responsibility.
I believe that one of the greatest gifts we have in this life is the agency to choose our own actions. Before we choose, we need to think about the natural consequences our actions will have on us and those around us.
At a pretty early age, I learned what happens when a man and woman engage in sexual intimacy. At a slightly older age, the mysteries of birth control were explained to me, along with their effectiveness rates at inhibiting pregnancy and STDs.
It is every woman’s choice what she does with her own body. If she chooses to overeat, smoke 10 paks a day, run a marathon, or have sex with another person, then she has the right to make that choice and deal with the consequences.
When her choices put her in a position to have a dramatic influence over another person’s life or death, she suddenly needs to act more responsibly. If her husband quits his job and lays around all day expecting to be supported, does she have the right to cap him off so that he’ll no longer be a drain on her finances? If her 18-month-old turns out to be a destructo and a nuisance and she can no longer go out clubbing every night, can she toss him down the garbage chute and move on with her life?
Technically, a woman does not have the legal right to choose either of these things. What if the baby was only 3 months old and had colic? Still not legal. What if he was in utero and just starting to suck his thumb? Many people would like this to be legal and at times it has been. What if his little heart and brain were still developing at an amazing rate and he was completely defenseless? Bing! At this point, our country considers it okay to terminate the baby’s life so that the mother can move on with hers.
What if the woman didn’t make the choice to have sex, such as in cases of rape or incest? Of course she should be given the choice to recover her choice that was taken away by force. What if the pregnancy puts the mother’s life at risk? Of course she should have the option of terminating her pregnancy in self-defense. Either of these circumstances would be agonizing but the mother should have the option to save her life or reclaim her body after it was taken over by violence.
Having carried 2 children to term, I cannot imagine thinking its okay to kill a child of any age simply as a form of belated birth control, because the timing just isn’t right or to avoid putting a crimp in my lifestyle.
I think of wonderful people like my sister who anxiously wait to adopt a child when millions are snuffed in a quick and easy procedure each year. The idea that the only alternative to abortion for the accidentally pregnant is a lifetime of unwanted motherhood is absurd. There are so many choices available.
Personally, I choose to be responsible for my own actions and accept the consequences that they produce. I choose to love and protect the most innocent and defenseless among us rather than subjugating their rights because they’re too little to organize a protest rally.
-So, um, yeah. I just stopped by Costco and happened to take this picture. No I did not photoshop it. That is my real parking spot! AHH!!! I know. The best day ever. I’ve still got it!
-Fairies are invisible and magic and their names are Laylee. They wear very little in the way of clothing. They appear to be cold, if I could see them, which I can’t, because they’re invisible.
-Laylee just told the baby we’re watching not to go into her castle and I’m pretty sure I heard Dan say, “Laylee, can you say ‘nobody puts baby in a corner’?” and I loved him… and thought of Chris.
At BlogHer, our friends from Johnson and Johnson had nametags that said “Johnson’s Baby” and it became increasingly hilarious throughout the weekend to say things like, “Where did Johnson’s baby run off to?” or “Why are you sitting over there like that. Nobody puts baby in a corner.” I think it was the 10th or 35th time Chris said this that I began suspecting a life of adult diapers was in my future.
-Also, Brian has sweetly commented on the Hertz post and from the sound of things, he has not undergone any major surgery as a result of his ordeal. He is a trooper (not with the state, just the chipper-young-lad variety).
When Magoo asks for a geek, I get him some jews.
When my friend’s daughter asks for her hippy, she prefers the valveless variety with no handles.
This morning Magoo is dining on jews, chi, and faffles.
What are some of your favorite childish mispronunciations?
Being shot down by a three year old who’s almost 4 but still 3 but almost 4 but still wears pull-ups to bed so I’ll call her 3 is too funny to be painful.
Every night at bedtime she gets to pick 2 songs for Dan and me to sing. Sometimes they’re church songs. Sometimes she chooses something peppy. Frequently she requests
“the song about what’s in the nightlight? It’s people and things and combs and stuff that don’t belong in there.” Dan always begins these improvised songs with the line, “I was walkin’ down the street…” (And he wonders why he’s never won a rap battle around here!)
Lately she usually asks for songs from Disney movies. When she asks for the Snow White song, we take parts. I am the warbly young princess “standing by a wishing well” and Dan is the equally warbly and high-pitched echo.
Last night she asked for the Cinderella song. So I began “Sing Sweet Nightingale.” I was tired. I started low. Maybe I started a bit scratchy. Sue me.
Me: Sing sweet nightingale. Sing sweet nightin-
Laylee: NO! Not the one the stepsisters sing. Cinderella sings that song too.
So after stumbling around her room, gathering my splattered pride, I cleared my throat and began in a higher key for the future Simon Cowell to critique. Apparently it met her approval and I was moved on to the next round. What song would she chose?
She asked me to please close the closet so she could decide. Wha??? Surveying the princess stickers on the sliding doors, she settled on the Belle song. Luckily Angela Lansbury has no ugly stepsister that I’m aware of so “Beauty and the Beast” went off without a hitch… besides the fact that I made up the words as I went along.
Ever as before, ever as before, as the sun will rise.
Tale as old as time, tale as old as song
Ever just and same, finding I’m your mom
Beauty and the Beast.
the reasons: microwave popcorn, Dan’s freshly shaven face, ELECTRICITY.
Tips are now back on Tuesdays because, hey, I’m the boss of this blog.
My sister-in-law and her roommates used to always ask me for romance advice because I’m totally married so I know pretty much all there is to know about dating and romance. The advice was so good that a couple of months ago she set off on an 18 month adventure as the Mormon equivalent of a nun.
Good times.
Today please give me signs that a relationship is just not meant to be. Here are mine.
It’s just not meant to be if:
-You excitedly take the big step of going home with your true love to meet the fam, only to have him introduce you by saying, “This is Kathryn. She lives in my apartment complex and she didn’t have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving.”
-You have to call Delilah to find out what “your song” is.
Now you go…