Crashing The Tea Party
Fox News thinks ACORN is going to crash conservative Tea Parties…perhaps they haven’t met my daughter and I?
We’re holding our own Tea Party.
In case you missed it, “anti-tax” protesters are gathering across the country this April 15th to throw “tea parties” to show their…well, it’s unclear. Stefania from MOMOcrats calls it it a tantrum,
“We’ve been puzzling over this tea party concept ever since we’ve heard about it. From what we can figure Conservatives across the country are holding parties to protest being ‘Taxed Enough Already’ (get it?) among other things. This despite the fact that President Obama has just passed the largest middle class tax cut in history. Remember during the campaign how the GOP was telling everyone that Obama would raise your taxes? Makes you wonder if Republicans 1) ever read Obama’s proposed tax policy and 2) ever read the news.”
Jane Hamsher has a more detailed round-up on how all this tea party business got started. With “business” being the key word,
“Why all the effort to distance themselves (Fox News) from the teabaggers? It’s obvious they are integrally involved — Fox has given them millions in free publicity, despite the fact that there’s no evidence of ‘ratings gold’ here. Four of their biggest stars will be appearing at the rallies, Fox Nation will be hosting a ‘virtual tea party,’Glenn Beck is holding a $500 a plate fundraiser for them and Fox has been officially promoting the entire affair as the FNC Tax Day Tea Parties…Maybe they’re afraid that if people knew that those behind the demonstrations were the very same lobbyists and influence peddlers the teabaggers claim to decry, the whole thing would be revealed to be what it is — a hollow excercise in extremist right-wing hypocrisy.”
Confused yet? Teablogging.net also breaks down the Tea Party fun,
“Who is behind the Teabags Across America movement? Well, fuck if we know. But here are a few of the Founding Fathers:
Obvs we all know about CNBC “journalist” Rick Santelli, who got the ball (heh) rolling back in February when he sort of went apeshit on the air and then all the kids watched it on the YouTube, for laffs.
Next we heard, American Spectator boy wonder Managing Editor and known anti-twittite J. Peter Freire tweeted the idea of having a “New American Tea Party,” you know, for principles.
WHOA BUT WAIT. Next thing you know, new media genius Michael Patrick Leahy is just goin cold nuts about liberty and stuff. So now HE is in charge.
And then, because nothing says “grassroots” like “big money lobbyists,” our friends at FreedomWorks got in on the act! AND THEY MADE SHIRTS.
But you know it’s really not a conservative movement until the American Family Association signs on, and sign on they did.”
So where does that leave us? April 15th will be filled with extremists, anti-Obama-ites, GOP/RNC opportunists, lobbyist, plenty of t-shirt sales, anti-union groups, and according to Firedoglake white supremacists and xenophobic anti-immigrant groups.
Wow. Quiet the gathering.
Then there are those holding virtual tea parties like Technosailor.com‘s Aaron Brazell, who says he wants nothing to do with the extremists,
“…don’t bring me into extraneous issues. My ‘teaparty’ is only focused on taxcode/system. Non-partisan.”
Unfortunately that core message isn’t getting through. It seems just about everyone has caught on to the double entendre with the Tea Party rhetoric in which participants have been encouraged to “tea bag” the White House, or “tea bag” their Congressman.
I’ll give you a second to go look it up on Urban Dictionary.
The giggles and snickers have spread to cable news and beyond, resulting in Tea Parties not being taken seriously.
Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy
Which leaves me exactly where I started, spending April 15th having a tea party with my daughter. The 4-year old won’t give me spin, lobbyists, white supremacists, or tax-cut rhetoric. No, all I will get from her is a little sugar.
crossposted at BlogHer.com
This Time, I’m Not Going to Complain
I’m awake with my son, who is throwing up. He’s miserable and we’re tired.
But that’s ok.
I’m not complaining. I’m cherishing every single messy and difficult moment.
My love and support goes out to Maddie’s family and Thalon’s family. Two babies taken too soon. Two Mom’s who blog in my community only wishing they could take care of every single messy throw up.
My heart breaks.
And no…today I will not complain.
Lobstery is Missing
That’s him. The orange one. Beloved by the boy for all of a week now. Tonight, after switching hotels in Orlando, we discovered Lobstery wasn’t around.
My son sobbed like he hasn’t sobbed in years.
Maybe it was 3 days of theme parks. Maybe it was all the sugar. Maybe it was true love of lobster…but my 6-year old was entirely heartbroken over the loss of his orange, plastic, squeaking lobster pal.
I called the Walt Disney World Dolphin and they kindly directed me to hotel security. The very nice man who answered the phone only giggled once when taking down a description of Lobstery. And swore that if “any lobsters matching his description came in” they would call.
Now I lay in the hotel bed next to a sleeping, yet still heaving, boy. He’s doing that thing you do after a really hard cry. That sob in your sleep thing. It’s pathetic. And gut wrenching.
Nana is in the other room swearing to drive all the way back to Tarpon Springs to get him another one. Of course, he doesn’t want another one. He wants “his” Lobstery.
I know which one he is. You can’t trick me. Because I loved him so very much.
But just think honey. When they find him, they will mail him to us. Lobstery will have an adventure!
No! Lobsters aren’t supposed to have adventures, Mom. He’s supposed to just stay with me.
So tomorrow morning I will wake up early to again re-pack our bags. I will, again, look through each and every suitcase for a hint of orange. And I will again call hotel security and check the lost and found.
Cross your fingers for us.
Come home Lobstery! We miss you!
Inhale
I’m not so hot at this boy stuff. See right here…my son…up in this tree. I’m fairly sure I held my breath until he came down.
The smashing. The jumping. The constant running and destroying.
I hate it.
It makes me live in fear for the next ER trip. The first broken bone. The first set of stitches.
Did I really struggle to carry this child in my womb for 9 months just so he could come out and maim himself?
However. And this is a big HOWEVER…I’m standing here letting him climb this damn tree. Everything in me wants him DOWN on the GROUND where it is SAFE. But no…I’m letting him climb.
Because children need to climb trees and scrape their knees and not have Mom hovering directly overhead waiting to catch at the slightest imbalance.
At least that’s what I keep saying to myself…as I watch. Only slightly turning blue from the lack of oxygen.
Full of Grace
The flexibility and agility of my children annoys me.
I’m watching my daughter leisurely sprawl herself across an ottoman at my mother’s home – leg balancing here, another there. Flipping around like a fish. Rolling from tip-toe to heel.
It drives me crazy, because I’m pretty sure that even as a child I couldn’t do more than stand straight so as not to fall.
I was the “awkward” one in ballet class.
Doing simple things like laying on my stomach to play never seemed as comfortable as the other kids made it. Easy. Natural.
I was never, necessarily a huge clutz. But I was never going to be described as graceful. My grandfather used to call me a “claud.”
I think that means “bigger” than a clutz.
My daughter and son are not that way. At least, not that I can tell…yet. My son will jump around and over and through the house like a gazelle while my daughter flitters around with these tiny feet you can barely hear.
And stomp tromp slosh comes Mom.
Maybe grace is overrated.
But I notice that over time my acceptance of my body’s limitations has wavered with my children’s …grace.
Was I ever like this? Is this what my mother saw as she looked at me? Could it be?…
…no, I think this Claud couldn’t have possibly been mistaken for the magical kids floating in my home. Graceful, sprite-like, and angelic.
Ok, maybe not angelic all the time…but you know what I mean.
They are running through the house looking for a missing chick. Never mind the missing chick is plastic, stay with me here…they are RIGHT NOW doing that thing they do, dancing around each other with toys and games and laughter.
Watching them is like an exercise in readying for disaster. I’m waiting for them to crash. To slam into eachother, to stub a toe, to fall and cry.
But I’m noticing more often then not…they are not me. They don’t tromp around the house or bump their tiny shins into sides of tables.
No…right now…they are dancing and giggling. Full of grace.
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