Mommy Lessons 34,612 and 34,613

Mommy Lesson #34,612: Icing without cake is just icing.

A definition...

Outgoing: extroverted, talkative, or sociable

I submit that there are times when a Mr. (or Ms.) Outgoing  can turn out to be a lowdown, backstabbing Class A jerk. That is, there are a lot of people in this world who've got lots icing, but no cakey goodness inside.  IOW, good personality, but bad values or ethics.

(Oh, you don't know anybody like that?  Maybe you haven't looked hard enough?  Think.)

(Still no?)

(This is awkwaaaard.)

(Because I'm probably talking about you.)

Extrovert or introvert is icing.  What constitutes cakey goodness?  Compassion, kindness, respect.

Stuff like that.  You know, values.

Before I became a mother, I had a vision of the perfect child.

Outgoing, a risk taker yet very obedient, popular and friendly, talkative, charming, confident, strong, aggressive when she needed to be but extremely compassionate, intelligent, a fighter, a winner, the list goes on and on.

Three years later, I'm beginning to think that people who are overly invested in visions are either messengers of God or just clinically insane.

My daughter, N., has a lot of the qualities that I dreamed of in that original vision, but not all of them. (You can read more about her personality and my opinions regarding it on the post, Shy Kid.)

Oh, I know she may change dramatically, and I understand that she's only three.  But, know what?

I don't care if she stays exactly the same. (Well, I could do without the feet stomping that occurs following a negative response to "Can I have Teddy Grahams for dinner?").

I love her because of her quiet ways, her discernment, and her reserved manner in the company of whomever she deems an outsider.  And please notice that I didn't say, "I love her, anyway."

Because there's nothing wrong with the kid who doesn't hug strangers or the kid who still won't hug you after she's met you five times.  Extroverts don't hold superiority over introverts. A talkative risk taker is no better than a reflective thinker.  Talkative and reflective, after all, are descriptions which are generally independent of ethics, values and morals.

I've thought very hard about my original "I want this kind of kid" wish list today, the day after I've withdrawn N. from preschool because of three weeks of non-stop crying.

A lot of books and a lot of people said she would cry because of separation anxiety.

That she would stop about twenty minutes after I left.  Well, she didn't stop.  She cried.  And cried, and cried.  Some of you might offer one of the following nuggets of wisdom:

* I'm not doing her any good by coddling her, she has to learn to work this stuff out on her own.

* She's never going to learn how to be social if I don't put her in social situations.

* Children learn when they're pushed.

* Change is always uncomfortable.

Well, "some of you" can just zip it and mind your own business.  The rest of you can keep reading.

I know, in my heart, that my daughter's crying wasn't normal separation anxiety.  It was a meaningful attempt on her part to tell me and anyone else who was willing to listen that she is not ready for this.

Mommy Lesson #34,613: No PhD, M.D., other kid's parent, friend or teacher should hold veto power over one's feelings about what's best for their own child.

N. told me,  I'm not ready, Mama. (Yeah, she calls me Mama, how precious is that?!)

I hear you, N., I hear you.  You're not ready.  That's fine.  I'm not ashamed of you for not being ready, and you don't have to be ashamed either.

Another definition...

Respect: due regard for the feelings and desires of others.

Now that's some seriously delicious cakey goodness.

Ugggh.

I hate Taco Bell. Hate it, hate it, hate it. Hate it.

Which is why I cannot begin to wrap my mind around why I ate a Nachos Belle Grande and a bean burrito two days ago from there.

Actually, I have a theory.  Somewhere in my crazy little brain, I seek out new and interesting ways to punish myself.  I like pain because it absolves me of guilt.

And punish myself I did.  I have heard of this disease called dysentery.  Without going into the nasty details of it, I'm pretty sure I have it.

In other news, I've decided not to postpone my Pakistancation, despite the following:

U.S. Falls Out With Key Ally Pakistan

Awesome. If my three year old wasn't tagging along, the prospect of visiting a country on the brink of international and civil war might have actually been fun.

I would love to blog about why I'm going forward with the trip, but you'll have to wait on that. I have to use the bathroom.

Dysentery is fun.

Firestarter

UPDATE: This post was written about 12 hours before the breaking news United States Armed Forces have crossed Pakistani borders, without the permission of the Pakistani government, in pursuit of suspected terrorists.  I was asked by my cousin in Pakistan this morning, "Don't people in America care about what's happening?"  Of course we do.  We do, right?

You can read more about it in this article from the Washington Post.

Yesterday was September 11th.

Two of the most prolific bloggers in my Google reader, Avitable and Miss Britt, who I've adopted as my blogging mama and papa without their express permission, wrote wonderful posts on the topic. (BTW, making Avitable one's blog papa could be considered extremely creepy).

I commented profusely on Avitable's blog and stirred up a bit of firestorm which is totally uncharacteristic of me, ha ha.  Go check it out by clicking on his name up there, but if you're at work, be advised that the comments are profanity laden.

Of course, the one person I challenged had to be a United States Marine.  Obviously, I didn't know that at the time.

And, of course, he was very upset about my use of the words "taking action" with regards to the protection of this nation's freedom.  Because he's been all over the world taking action and I've been sitting here in the AC of my suburban home.  I came off as sarcastic, which again is very uncharacteristic of me, so I suppose that fueled his contempt for my comments.

Truth be told, I understood his point of view, and I offered a reasonable apology.   In the end, I think peace was established through some discreet intervention on the part of Avitable.

What many people may not know is that when Mrs. Faiqa was once Miss Faiqa, she walked into the United States Marine Corps Recruiting Office in Daytona Beach, Florida at the age of eighteen and signed a recruitment form.

Yes, I actually signed up to join the United States Marine Corps.

I took the oath, they didn't ask and I didn't tell (nothing to tell), I did the push ups, I ran the miles, and I took the joke of  a literacy test that all enlistees must take.

On the day that I went to Jacksonville for my physical, in the multitudes of young people there, I was the only woman, the only Muslim and the only full blooded person of Asian descent present for enlistment in the Marine Corps.

At the end of the day, I was informed that I had been disqualified during the physical examination because I have an elongated retina which made me susceptible to retinal detachment should I experience any severe trauma to the head.  Apparently, Marines get hit in the head, a lot.

When I was eighteen, I thought the best way to serve my country was to become one of the warriors that protected it.  My parents, my teachers, my family and my friends thought I was an idiot for "throwing my life away," but I didn't care.  At that time in my life, I believed that military service would be the best expression of my dedication to the service of this nation.

My disqualification, though, afforded me the opportunity to realize that everyone is meant to serve their cause in a different way.

I serve my country by being informed.

I serve my country by educating myself regarding the freedoms that have been bestowed upon me by the Constitution of the United States.

I serve my country by yelling, stomping my feet in my living room (or the living rooms of other people) and blogging on the Internet when I see those freedoms being transgressed or upheld.

I serve my country by showing the world that I am unafraid of identifying myself as a Muslim, despite repeated implications from many of my compatriots and elected politicians that this nation is at war not only with Iraq and Afghanistan, but with Islam itself.

I serve my country whenever I intentionally answer "American," no hyphen, to the questions aimed at determining my ethnic origins.

Make no mistake, I am not equating my level of service with people who are getting shot at on the other side of the world.

I'm just saying that we all serve within the parameters of our capabilities, and many of us act with the noblest of intentions.  These services and actions are not any less of a contribution to the greatness of our nation.

Whenever I see a banner that reads, "Support Our Troops," I feel a strange twinge in my heart. I have always supported our troops, well before 9/11, well before it was deemed fashionable by the media and political pundits.

I'm offended by the conflation of the support of our troops with our current conflict.  After all, I should be able to voice my opposition to foreign policy without having my support of our military even coming up for discussion.

I fight for this country every day with my words.  And while I am not as prolific as many others, there are people who give my words some consideration.

I have been to various continents and bravely faced up to the criticisms that others have for this country, and I have defended what was right, just and good about us.

I do not impose, I do not require agreement, but I will continue to expose the goodness of America to the people of this planet as much as I can.

And there is much about us that is good, just and right.

Finally, I serve by finding and fostering the goodness within America.  I offer myself as an example of how this nation, at it very best, can be diverse, humane, tolerant and conscious.

This is the highest and best form of service that I can offer.

Your Right to Complain About the Economy: The Official Quiz

Your Right to Complain About the Economy

The Official Quiz

Answering three of the five following entitles bearer to busting this paper out and screaming, "DO YOU HAVE ONE OF THESE, PUNK?!"

I'm posting the answer right under its respective question.  Don't cheat.

1. Imperialist Capitalism, Inc. has a factory based in Illinois that reports a net profit this year of 130 million dollars. This year, they opened another factory in PoLittleOlUsuania which reported profits of 52 gazillion bazillion dollars. How much did Imperialist Capitalism contribute to the GDP of America?

Answer to #1: Come on, it's called Gross Domestic Product, which is defined as consumer ready goods and services produced within the United States.  Imperialist Capitalism, Inc.'s contribution to America's GDP is 130 million dollars. PoLittleOlUsistan gets to add the 52 gazillion bazillion dollars to its GDP, even if the CEO of Imperialist Capitalism puts the profits in an offshore executive spending account in the Caymans in order to purchase 55 houses in the Cote d'Azure, a private jet in Dubai and 40 million pez dispensers from Japan. Each of those nations will calculate the money spent on those items within their own respective GDPs, as well.  Globalization is fun.

2. Are we in a recession? How would you find out if we are? (Hint: The answer is not "my neighbor lost her job.")

Answer to #2: A recession is categorized as negative growth in the GDP for several months.  Most economists agree upon about six months.  To know if that is happening you could glue yourself to the television and beleive what they tell you, like a good little lemming, or go to the Bureau of Economic Analysis' website and find out what the GDP has been for the past several months. We are not in a recession. In fact, this month our GDP increased by 1.9%. Don't get too happy, GDP is only one of many economic indicators.

3. Who is in charge of making the final decision about our nation's fiscal policy?

Answer to #3: The president has a Council of Economic Advisors who analyze the economy and make recommendations. A budget is put together by the Office of Management and Budget in the White House and then submitted to Congress, who then passes the legislation that authorizes spending and taxation. But it's Congress who makes the final decision. Did you read that right? Yes, Congress.  So, it's Congress, not the President, who makes the final decision. I don't know why I keep feeling the need to say that over and over again.

4. What is the intention behind an investment tax credit?

Answer to #4: An investment tax credit is aimed at encouraging economic growth by increasing a business' (es'??) or industry's ability to invest. It's the amount that businesses are allowed by law to deduct from their taxes that has been aimed at investing. Hence the terms investment, tax and credit. Golly, economics sure is tricky.  Incidentally, both McCain and Obama are proposing these types of credits, but for different sectors of the economy.  I'm sure you know who is for what and which is for whom.  (That was a very Seuss-like sentence, wasn't it?)

5. Name 4 of the top ten countries with whom we have a trade deficit.

Answer to #5: Our trade deficit is at about $700 billion dollars, give or take. The top ten countries with whom we have a trade deficit are (drum roll, please): China, Canada, Japan, Mexico, Venezuela, Germany, Saudi Arabia, Nigeria (probably because of all the jailed diplomats who are recieving wire transfers from little old ladies in America), Russia and Angola (Angola? Really? Really, Angola.).  Fun fact: What do most of these countries have in common?  You got it, smarty pants, petroleum.  Petroleum which is used to make fuel and plastics.  So walk and recycle and you could help eliminate our deficit.

I posted the answers right under the question and you had to read them to see if you were right.  Therefore, if you are still here, you know the answers to all of the above questions which means you have a right to complain about the economy.

I may be a "democrat snob" and "liberal elite," but, hey, I'm a benevolent liberal elite who is not afraid to bestow my wisdom upon the cake eating unwashed masses.  (Sarcasm, haters, it's called sarcasm.)

If you have notic
ed any discrepancies or misinformation in any of the posts above, please feel free to be the pretentious know-it-all who points them out to me in the comment section of my blog.

Your Right to Complain About The Economy

A rant about today's politics always includes some statement about the economy. Which got me thinking, how much literacy actually stands behind the average American's desperate cry, "And what about the situation of the economy?!"

There's a joke among economists, who are a generally humorous bunch, that if your neighbor loses his job that means there's a recession but if you lose your job, that means we're in a depression. While this joke is so steeped in hilarity that I'm struggling to control my bladder right now, it also illustrates an interesting truth regarding how most American voters approach the U.S. economy.

They approach it microscopically and very personally. And, of course, I understand that we all want to know whether all this stuff is going to make an actual difference in our day to day. I wonder, though, if people realize that often your day to day experiences with the economy are one teeny, tiny, miniscule part of a bigger picture. To make the right decisions for your lifetime and your posterity, you have to get to know that bigger picture.

Like, say taxes. Everybody hates taxes. Taxes are the devil. But, why? Because it feels bad to pay them? Because you know you will have less money to spend on useless crap you probably didn't need in the first place? (Yes, I'm aware that the more money you spend on useless crap, the better it is for the economy...but that is entirely beside my overall point.)

No, I don't love taxes, and I don't always support raising them. But, sometimes, the government has to raise taxes. Without an understanding of basic economics, casting my vote for someone who promises not to raise taxes is akin to my only eating things that I find absolutely and fantastically delicious. (Don't believe the hype, spinach leaves will never taste as good as french fries. Never.)

Let me beat you senseless with the point I'm trying to make for a minute.

Say you're a childless bachelor living it up in suburbia. You live in one of those swanky gated communities that has just been built and most of your neighbors have small kids. Because the community is new, let's say there are no speed limits set up, yet. The Stepford Wives that live on either side of you knock on your door one fine afternoon and inform you that they are putting together a proposal for the HOA that will ask them to post a speed limit of 30 MPH on the main road.

"Hmmm," you say, as you think to yourself, I don't have any kids and I like going 50 MPH in my community, but then again, I don't want to hit one of these women's kids, because that one in the DKNY jumpsuit looks like she could kick the crap out of me...

And, then, BLAM!! A spaceship lands on your front yard, and a little green space woman walks out. You and your neighbors stare in amazement as she rambles towards you on her slimy alien looking feet.

"Greetings, mildly affluent people of earth," she says, in heavily accented English, "I am Bunny from the Planet Moronia. I just moved here. I do not know what a car is, nor do I know what this thing 'street' might be or what a speed limit is and only have a vague conception of what a child might be. Still, I'm so worried, what are we going to do about the situation of the Main Road?!!"

I'll feel lucky if most of my voting compatriots are either the childless bachelor or one of the Stepford Wives in the above story. I have a sinking feeling, though, that more than a few of them are represented in the newly relocated resident of the Planet Moronia.

So, I would like to graciously ask those Americans who are not economically literate to stop stressing over the economy. Sure, you have a right to stress, I suppose, but why not focus your pessimism on matters on which you are more educated.

The problem, of course, is that everyone thinks they know something about the economy, or at least enough.

So, because you are super, duper special, I've formulated a quick five question quiz for you to help you find out whether or not you are qualified to comment on the state of the American economy.

Because I believe that the ninth circle of hell is reserved for Ann Coulter and the makers of pop quizzes, I'm going to give you twenty four hours of studying time. (Translate this to "I cannot spend the rest of the day on this blog post.")

If you pass, which I am sure you will, you can print it out. Then, whenever you get into an argument over economic policy with someone, you can just whip that paper out and scream,

"DO YOU HAVE ONE OF THESE, PUNK?!!"

That should humiliate your opponent to the point of envy-laden silence or, if you're really lucky, uncontrollable sobbing.

The quiz will cover GDP, fiscal policy making, trade deficit, tax credits and economic growth.

Try to contain your enthusiasm and see you tomorrow.