This post is not about sex

So our beloved Governor Rick Perry, he of the slick coif who carries on the tradition of sporting cowboy boots with designer suits, has gone and written himself a book about the overwhelming awesomeness that is the Boy Scouts of America. Kickass! As an Eagle Scout and former member and employee of the BSA myself, I could also write such a book, though I imagine my account would differ from the gov's a wee bit.

Governor Good-Ole-Boy recently granted an interview to the New York Times wherein they appear to have spent most of their time talking about the book and about scouting. Of course, the gov had to field a few questions about the BSA's no-gays-allowed policies, and I have to say, I found his answers rather interesting. It's not that his reasoning is so compelling because it's not; it's just that it sounds as if the scouts have abandoned the tactic of defending their policy by saying that it's intended to protect kids from child molesters, undoubtedly because that line of reasoning has been shot full of holes. So what's the new argument Rick?

"Scouting ought to be about building character, not about sex. Period. Precious few parents enroll their boys in the Scouts to get a crash course in sexual orientation."

Ah, okay. So now it's not about protecting kids from predators, it's about protecting them from...well, from what exactly? From having to be anywhere near gay people? From information? Or rather, is it to protect parents from having to have their boys around homosexuals, where they might find out that they're, ya know, human beings?

Except the thing is, if scouting's not about sex, then why are the scouts making it about sex? Doesn't a ban that is based entirely on sexual orientation make the entire issue precisely, exactly about SEX?

Am I the only one who doesn't get it?

Pictures to prove it

So we turned Henry loose with our old old digital camera. The results were nothing short of fucking art:Note the deep reds of the fingers captured through the technique of placing them extremely close to the lens, obscuring most of the picture beyond, suggesting perhaps that as human beings, we are often unable to see beyond the blood in our own hands. Brilliant.

Of course, there were some rather frightening entries in his portfolio, like this one:

Perhaps the lumbering beast is dreaming of a letter that will come through that mailslot in the background. Such striking composition, and a bold move focusing on a subject so badly in need of a shave.

Little Simon AKA Turtle AKA Chubb isn't snapping any pictures yet, but he has learned what to do when the camera is turned on him:

This gets me every time

Take the baldheads voting, take them voting

So here's something fun and easy you can do with your kids that will make you feel like a Model Citizen: take them with you to vote! Why exactly is it so much fun? Simple: old people. I know, I know, old people have a reputation for usually spoiling everybody's fun, but that's just an unfair characterization. Old people like to have fun as much as anybody else. They like to party. Old people do the humpty-hump...they do the humpty-hump. AND they love to work the polls AND they love cute kiddos. So when you show up at the polls with your wee-uns, you got an instant party on your hands. Hell, they loved Henry so much, they even let him vote.

So take the kiddos voting. It requires practically no effort, and it'll make you feel like you're doing your part to save the world. Just like recycling.

Thanks all around

Just a quick thanks to everybody for your kind words on my last post. And now for something a bit lighter to help move my sad bastardness down to the bottom of the page, a little tune that just makes me giggle.



Oh, and I just checked book 7 out of the library this morning, so no spoilers in the comments or there'll be hell to pay.

I can't do anything right

So the most accurate way to phrase it is just to say that I've been in a shitass mood lately. That's right, shitass. This shitass mood is, of course, compounded by the guilt I feel over being in a shitass mood in the first place. "You've got a brand-spankin' new baby boy," I tell myself, "an amazing two year old, a beautiful, wonderful, loving wife. You got every reason in the world to be happy, ecstatic even, walking on air...so WTF, Self?" In response, I simply scowl back at myself, and go get another cup of coffee.

It's a chicken vs. egg question, in some ways. This mood, it almost feels like all sense of selflessness, of caring for others, hell, of love is drained out of me, like I got nothing to give. But of course, I've got people relying on me to be able to give, so there's no getting out of it. So I end up feeling resentful, selfish angry, etc., followed by guilt for feeling that way and for being a jackass towards the people I'm supposed to love the most. I haven't been patient, I haven't been kind, I haven't been slow to anger.

But of course I do love my family. It's just been difficult to, I don't know, act like it. I wish I could chalk it all up to being tired, but I've a feeling that doesn't quite cover it. Or maybe it does and I'm making a big stink over nothing. There's this ideal version of me who lives in that part of my imagination where I dream up all all things ideal. That guy is relaxed. That guy isn't fazed by much. That guy is not only willing, but happy to drop everything when he's needed. That guy is able to live in the moment, and is okay with whatever life throws at him. That guy doesn't ask the world to make him ecstatically happy, but is content with, well, being content.

Unfortunately for all involved, I'm soooo not that guy. At least not these days. I've been that guy before, but lately I'm my own antithesis. And that knowledge just seems to upset me more.

Oh yeah, and then there's this whole crisis of faith thing. I've never been totally set on what I believe about God and the divine, but as of late I'm starting to wonder if there's anything to believe in at all. I've heard it said by many people that they envy people of faith for their certainty, a notion which I've always sort of laughed at since my own faith has never been certain at all. It's an endless stream of questions and doubt, wondering and contradicting, and in fact, I find lately that I actually envy atheists for, what seems to me, their certainty about things, or at least the ability not to be bugged by all these goddamn questions. But of course, I'm totally oversimplifying that position. Anyway, it oughtta make next semester at seminary, um, interesting.

So yeah, shitass mood lately. I'm going to post this without proofreading it and then go try to make up for it a little by rubbing my wife's feet.

Just a string tied around my finger

Don't misunderstand, if you read this post and enjoy it, that is totally cool with me. But be forewarned, I'm writing this post more for me than anything. And I guess for my wife. See, one of the things I thought would be great about the daddy side of this blog would be to keep a written record of all the stuff my kids are doing in there here and now that I want to be able to recall when I'm old, gray, and bitter. But it occurred to me recently that there's tons of that kind of stuff that I've posted not a lick of. It's mostly just little things, little quirks of behavior, funny utterances, interesting childhood habits, and so forth. And as much as I'd like to work each of these into the telling of a larger story, I don't see that happening anytime soon. And so, in an attempt to plug up ye olde memory hole just a wee bit, here's a nice little bullet list of some of the latest and greatest hits from the world of my kids...mostly the older one, that is, since the younger one just got born like, the other day.

"Hold you." - this is what Henry says when he wants to be picked up. I have no power to resist it.

Bossiness - If he doesn't like something we're doing or saying, we hear about it in the form of "Don't do/say that Daddy/Mama!" Ash was the brilliant one that figured out that if we just keep doing it, but in a silly fashion, his mood turns much brighter. At times, his bossiness takes the form of telling us what we want, as in, "Daddy wants to sit on the butt."

Love baby bro - all of our worries about Henry rejecting his baby brother came to nothing. Henry likes to point at Simon and shout "it's baby bro!" and then kiss him on the head. The other day he even sat down next to him and "read" his animal book to him.

Protective - by that same token, Henry's starting to be kind of protective of Simon. When Ash drops me off at work in the morning and I kiss the boys goodbye, Henry tells me "don't take baby bro, Daddy."

"1, 2, 3, 5..." - Henry has started counting. He gets all the way up to 10, but he always always skips 4.

Neighbor dog - our neighbor has two very sweet dogs that like to come to the fence to say hello. If they're not there, Henry walks up to the fence and calls "Neighbor dog, where are you?"

My nuts - one day not long ago, Henry was walking towards me with a tennis ball, his arm cocked back ready to throw it. By instinct, I covered my crotch and said, "my nuts!" Henry walked around for the next hour repeating "my nuts...my nuts....my nuts."

Chalkboard - one of Henry's Christmas presents was a chalkboard. He's taken to asking me to write people's names on it. I guess he just likes the way the letters look. He'll point to where I've written M A M A and say, "that's Mama" as affectionately as if he were looking at a picture of her. He's not actually reading, of course. I guess he's just figured out what the names look like.

Ocupado - the kids likes privacy when he poops. He goes into his room and asks you to leave if you come in. If you ask if he's pooping, he'll say yes. When he comes out and you ask if he's pooped, he tells you "Don't check it." Except there's no need to take a visual because everybody's shit stinks.

Musical tastes - Henry has no problem requesting the music he wants to hear. "Island", "Middle", "Up and Down", "Reee", "Clappa Hands", and plenty of others are all shorthand for his favorite jams.

"I forgot something" - this is Henry's code for "chase me, catch me, and tickle me."

There now. That oughtta be fun to read in another 30 years.