This campaign season, and well last campaign season too, has really made me realize something alarming about our political system — it is irrelevant. Our two-party system has gotten to be like the NFL or MLB (stay with me here). The team managers and owners have so completely gotten the game down to a science and the players are all so good that the differences between teams is negligible. It is when every game becomes a close game that the franchise owners get together to change the rules – to make it tougher. Over the years they have done that to the NFL and to the NBA.

Well, I suspect that every political race from this point forward will be a close race. Why? Because political strategists and the machines behind these campaigns have gotten it down to a science. We no longer hear about the issues on the news we hear about what states are in contention, how many more electoral votes are required and how to win Michigan. Did you know that neither presidential candidate this year ever came to Texas? Do you know why? Because we are such a conservative state Democrats feel it is a waste to spend money here. Republicans feel there is no need to spend money here because Democrats don’t – so nobody comes to visit. Do I feel neglected? yes, I do. Because my vote is being taken for granted. My vote has already been decided for me by some political strategist in Washington who could care less about what really matters to me. Because I am no longer a person but a demographic. A demographic that is highly sought after (soccer moms) or no longer needed.

Our system does not reward and promote the best candidate, it rewards and promotes the better strategy. It is time to change the rules but unlike professional sports the people in charge of changing the rules are the same ones who benefit from keeping them the same.

I voted today with the kids. I’m not going to tell you who I voted for or why I voted for that person or what issues are important to me. Frankly, that is too personal and the beauty of this country is the SECRET ballot. However, I am a big believer in the act of voting which is why I took my two children. If I can stand in a line with a 4 yr old and a 2 yr old and explain to them why voting for new leaders is important during which they are trying to push all the buttons in the voting booth and cause the next voting controversy, you can too. I’m sure many of you may view this voting campaign with celebrities involved as some sort of secret plot by Democrats but the message is simple — Vote. (Lucy thought I said “boat” and wanted to know where the water was).

Lucy and I had a very spiritual conversation over breakfast this morning:

Lucy: When I was at Nana’s house Katie said that when I become a Grandma I will die
Me: Well, that is a long way away honey I don’t think you need to worry about it
Lucy: But I don’t want to die
Me: (recognizing a bad thing coming) well, you won’t die
Lucy: (tears welling in her eyes) BUT I DON’T WANT TO DIE!!
Me: Oh sweetie, it won’t happen until your like a hundred years old — you’re not even 5 right now
Lucy: I. DON’T. WANT. TO. DIE!!!
Me: Lucy, do you know what happens when you die? (Lucy shakes her head vigorously) you go to live with God so it isn’t anything to be sad about
Lucy: I don’t want to live with God. I want to live with Mommy. (hot tears now streaming down her face. I gather her up into my arms and sit on the couch)
Me: Lucy, you will live with Mommy.
Lucy: I don’t want to live somewhere without Mommy.
Me: You will always be with Mommy. I will always take care of you. Always, always.
Lucy: When I’m a Mommy can I still call you Mommy?
Me: Yes, of course you can
Lucy: (calming down, and the tears receding) Will you still call me “honey”?
Me: yes, of course I will
Lucy: (perking back up) I like it when you call me “honey”.

We recently let Max have some time to run around the house “commando” – no diaper, no pants. He seemed to like this until he peed on the floor. As I was cleaning him up this conversation occurred.

Me: It’s okay Max accidents happen
Lucy: (from the adjacent room and screaming) IT’S OKAY MAX! ACCIDENTS HAPPEN ALLLLL THE TIME!
Me: You have accidents when you are learning to use the potty
Lucy: (still in other room) IT’S OKAY MAX! I HAVE ACCIDENTS!!! BE BRAVE MAX!!
Max: (shouting back) OK SISHY! I BWAVE!!
Me: okay buddy lay down so I can clean you up
Max: Peepee come out my peanut
Me: yes, peepee comes out of your penis
Max: Mama don’t have peanut
Me: that is right, mommy doesn’t have a penis
Max: peepee come out of hole in peanut.
Me: Yes sweetheart, the peepee comes out of the hole
(Wow, so glad we got that all cleared up. )

Max has stopped bathing. I don’t know why, but suddenly he has refused to take a bath. I recognize that an almost 3 yr old likes to feel as if he is in control and I do what I can to help him create this illusion. I have allowed him to not bathe, but it has been a week. Do you know what an almost 3 year old little boy looks like after a week of no bathing? Well, let me enlighten you. He has food on his face. I don’t know what it is or what it was but it is there and it will not be removed with a baby wipe or a “spit and polish”. He has ink on his arms. Not from coloring, but from taking my “good job” rubber stamps from my school bag and stamping himself. His fingernails are long, dirty and well, I won’t gross you out with the details. His “parts” smell, his hair is a mess, and his ears – ugh. So tonight, I threw down the mommy gauntlet and dragged that little toot, kicking and screaming into the tub. He splashed me, he threw toys, he cried until snot streamed down his face and loosened the food around his mouth. I even washed his hair (I was feeling particularly saucy). I cleaned his ears, trimmed his nails, put clean pajamas on him and even made him wash his pacifier. He hates me. I know he does. I know he is sitting right now, with watermelon smelling hair and resenting me. I have violated his control, his life, his space. What he doesn’t realize is that this is really revenge for all of those times that he’s eaten my food, pulled my hair, grabbed my boobs in public, kicked me and otherwise violated MY space. I hate to break it to you buddy but mommy always wins. I ALWAYS win.

I want to take a moment to feature a fellow blogger. I’ve been reading “Code Yellow Mom” for about three months now and well, I’m amazed. This darling, wonderful woman has packed up her entire household (including her two small boys) and moved to Kiev, Ukraine with her husband. I find it challenging enough to navigate Dallas with my kids, I can’t imagine acclimating to an entirely different culture. However, she seems to be doing it with grace and humor. Reading her stories of adjustment are not only amazing, but make me appreciate the life we have here in the states. I really encourage you to stop by her blog and read of her adventures.

I received my first advertising check today. This is sort of a momentous occasion in the blogging world because it means that enough people have come to my site to warrant them actually cutting me a check. It also means that for the first time in my life somebody has paid me for something I have written. Now granted, this isn’t “REAL” publishing where I actually have to be a good writer, but it is probably as close as I will ever get.

When I was in 5th grade I wrote a book of stories featuring a squirrel and I pledged that I would grow up one day and become a “writer”. I graduated with a bachelors degree in Creative Writing and upon completion realized that I was a dreadful writer. Perhaps it is because I haven’t experienced enough true hardship, or perhaps it is because I’m just not that interesting. I don’t know, but writing a novel is not in my future. I have lots of ideas for screenplays and perhaps someday I will actually get around to writing them (my current idea is a modern retelling of Northanger Abbey).

In the meantime, I’m relegated to hiding out in the blogosphere and like a minstrel, standing on my box and spinning my tales. I think I’ll take my earnings and go take the kids to McDonalds.

This has a slow start, but this is why I love the Internet. In no other medium would we be able to view and share this cool video.

EepyBird’s Sticky Note experiment from Eepybird on Vimeo.

This is the final chapter describing my need to get to know God and somehow still survive in my culturally diverse family. Here are links to Chapter 1, Chapter 2, and Chapter 3. At the end of chapter 3 I had read two interesting books and neither one was the bible.

I Meet REAL Christians
David comes from a rather large family. I always wanted a big family growing up and when I married David I got it in spades. His mother is one of eight children and all the aunts, uncles and cousins get together regularly. (As a matter of fact they are all coming to our house this weekend). This “small” gathering of individuals usually numbers somewhere around 20 on a slow day. They were all raised Christians. They were all raised going to church weekly. They were all raised making Christ the center of their lives. This was very scary for me.

I was very nervous meeting David’s family because I knew they KNEW. They knew my mother was Jewish. They knew I didn’t attend church. They knew I had never been baptized. They knew I wasn’t Christian. And I knew how they would react — or at least I thought I did. That is the most beautiful part of this story — they didn’t react. They didn’t care. They opened their arms, their hearts, their homes and welcomed me. They embraced me for who I am and in everything they did and do they show me what being a Christian is meant to look like. They never judged me. They just loved me. They will never know how much that meant and means to me. That is not to say that they are perfect – because they are not. As all families go, and especially big families, they have their own short-comings and problems and are very fallible. The beauty of their family comes from their bottomless well of unconditional love and their boundless ability to forgive – and that comes from their faith.

I Have An Epiphany (We Find A Church)
I stood for awhile in a soup of contemplation. I had CS Lewis, Thomas Jefferson, my mother, my years of education, and various members of David’s family all floating around in my head. All those years of being judged by people who presented themselves as “good Christians” and now seeing a different type of Christian I was lost. What did it really mean to BE Christian? I no longer knew.

This entire time David and I still went to churches. A new one every couple of months. There was always something wrong. David didn’t like the minister or the music or it was too conservative or too weird or whatever. We were several years into this journey of looking for churches when we stumbled into Preston Trail Community Church. I’m not going to give you details about my church but I will tell you that they say with regularity “No Perfect People Allowed”. And with that all the pieces fell in place.

1. People are hypocrites
2. Their hypocrisy is not my problem – it is God’s
3. Me judging them for their hypocrisy is as bad as them judging me for not believing
4. My faith is my business
5. Having faith, being a Christian (or Jew) is like dieting. Every day you get up and do the best you can to live by the rules outlined by your faith. Sometimes you do great and sometimes, not so much. The key is though that you try everyday and God does appreciate the effort.
6. Christ most definitely wasn’t a nut-job since I fundamentally agree with everything he said
7. Thus, he seems like a good guy to follow
8. I guess that makes me a Christian — Hmm, who would have guessed?

Loose ends
I still haven’t gotten all the questions answered. And that is part of my journey that is left to be taken. I still struggle with the bible. I can’t, as a scholar, believe in its inherent infallibility. Especially when you put it in context of other contemporary books, myths, the oral tradition, translation errors, etc. However, I do believe it is filled with lots of wisdom and something worthy of study. It fundamentally relates historical events mixed in with a fair bit of fantasy – typical Medieval text. Will I teach my children that the bible is the infallible word of God? Wow, I don’t think I have the answer to that question yet.

Then there is my Jewishness. I can’t hide it, deny it or give it up. I’m Jewish. My mother is Jewish. My Grandmother was Jewish. My Great Grandmother was Jewish. They were persecuted, they fled their country and they sacrificed everything for religious freedom. How do I continue to honor that and yet still pursue my own spiritual path? I’m not sure, but I’m trying every day to do that. I was so honored to host my first Passover Seder with David’s family in attendance and I hope to host future Passover Seder’s.

The Big Finish
Sometimes I wish I was one of those people that could believe without question. But my faith doesn’t come because somebody told me to believe that way – or because my parents insisted I believe a certain way. No, my faith has come from research, thought, and reflection and I believe that makes it stronger. Although I will guide my children spiritually and openly share my own beliefs I hope that they don’t shy away from questioning their beliefs. I want my kids to be critical thinkers, independent thinkers, the kind of people who are not scared of forming their own opinions based on research and careful reflection. A faith that cannot face challenge, that cannot face doubt, is not a faith that warrants followers. I’ve embraced Christianity because at the end of the day it still stands.