Many of you may know, George Tiller, one of only a few late-term abortion providers, was murdered yesterday.  He was shot about a decade ago, but survived.  The abortions he provided to women in Kansas (and those that traveled from all over the country because their area lacked a provider), saved lives.  Tiller was murdered while attending Sunday services at his church. 

What strikes me about Tiller and his murder is that they (the militant wing of the pro-life set) finally got him after two decades.  The women he cared for will no longer have a qualified and experienced doctor.  Plus, I'm fairly certain that the young doctor with a strong passion to provide the same services as Dr. Tiller has now reconsidered.   And, even more important, this makes me question (even more so than before) President Obama's recent University of Notre Dame speech.  He seems more of a lightweight, bullshit spewer than someone with a strong conviction to lay off the politics of women's bodies.  Yes I know he gets it, but is anyone else tired of Obama trying to coast the road of Middle Ground? 

I worked, however briefly, on the front lines of abortion services.  I saw the protesters every Friday with their bullhorns and rosaries, judgments and graphic posters.  I watched as women--some alone and some with friends, husbands, partners, mothers and fathers--run into the building to escape the tension and taunts.  Of course there were volunteer patient escorts to keep the protesters at a safe distance and to offer a welcoming hand into the building, but the vast majority of these volunteers were in their late 60's and 70's.  Some of them may have passed by now and some may still be outside, regardless of the weather, guiding women through the chaos and into the office where they have elected to have a safe and legal medical procedure; an abortion. 

Dr. Tiller was 57, a speck younger than the patient escort volunteers at Planned Parenthood.  I make this point because it's clear to me that as a young pro-choice woman and mother, I have not done my part.  This is a very serious wake up call and one that I wish could be different because, after all, Dr. Tiller was a father, grandfather, son, husband and a man in great need by countless women.  It's not enough for me to shake my head and wonder why.  Why is it that psychos can get a gun so easily (and anyone for that matter), why the personal decisions of women come with government sanctions and public scrutiny, and why have I and a very large portion of younger pro-choice women done--what in large part amounts to--nothing?

I wish I had the courage to believe in something as much a Dr. Tiller believed in women's automony; to face the very real possibility that I could die because of my unwavering commitment to something (in this case abortion) that is inherently a right.  Because I lack that type of spine does not mean I cannot do my part.  It does not mean that I have to let the old folks brave the pain of rickety knees in damp weather because no one is there to take their place on Friday mornings. 

In honor of George Tiller and the countless men and women who go largely unrecognizedfor their commitment to preserving my right to decide if a pregnancy is something I do or do not want to pursue, send a thank you card to:

WOMEN'S HEALTH CARE SERVICES
5107 East Kellogg
Wichita, Kansas USA 67218

and then donate to Planned Parenthood, NARAL Pro-Choice America, National Network of Abortion Funds, or Medical Students for Choice.

I think this year will be Scarlett's Year of the Sand.  She's never been into the grainy stuff and she absolutely hates salt water.  For the past three years, we've spent Memorial Day at the beach and each year she's inched closer to liking the ocean.  This time around, she spent close to three hours in the 50 degree water over two days.

With her new beach equipment (boogie and skim boards), she's ready to take on the waves.  During our boogie board purchase, we met the typical stoner surf board purveyor of all things surf.  He couldn't answer our questions with definite answers about when a smaller skim board would be available and seemed rather peeved that his mom took his board catalog.  He did, however, put Scarlett's boogie board strap together lickity split.  Thanks, dude.

Unfortunately, moms don't have the same level of adrenaline that propels their children into frosty water, otherwise Scarlett would have been able to learn how to use her boogie board the right way.  I left her to try and figure it out for herself while I sat on the beach and read. 

Of course I took the mandatory ocean snapshots. 

If there was one thing that excited me about becoming a parent, it was recitals. Just the dog and pony show of it all:



Obviously Scarlett did great and knew all of her moves. I'll never forget the way her face lit up when she saw her family sitting in the audience. She was all beams.

So first I was cookie mom, then I was "helping," then I was co-leader, and now due to some strife, I've turned into Truman--The Buck Stops Here. 

Keep in mind that I was only looking for a worthwhile, social justice centered place to drop my kid off so that I could have a guaranteed weekly moment to myself.  Awesome turn of events, right?

What you're looking at over there is Scarlett doing yoga with her "sisters."  Yeah, the majority of those towels?  I drove home like a wild woman in order to get  the towels that everyone else forgot.  The yellow one?  That's a hooded duck.  The blue with sand?  It's Spongebob and Patrick.  The dots?  That one's from the Easter Bunny. Okay, I'll get off my crucifix now. 

This weekend we're cleaning up or planting flowers at a local park.  There's pizza involved, so I'm stoked.

So what's up in Scarlett land: school, soccer, scouting and swimming.  Of course, I've forgotten our camera every Saturday for the past three weeks.  I get to the deck of the pool and silently curse myself then I swear--next week.  The kid's moved up a notch on the lessons scale.  Last week she even got a ribbon.

Did you know that cats can fetch?  Go figure my mush for brains dog has the traits of a slug while my cat acts like a dog.  The only thing I wish Boreland could fetch was a clue. 

I've enrolled in a teaching certificate program and take my first state exam next Saturday.  Don't pray that I pass, just pray that I wake up.  I have to arrive at 7:30 AM.  If I make it, I'm sure to frighten the other test takers with my morning creep show. 

Scarlett went to the dentist this week and she has no cavities.  This means no more pirate booty in her mouth.  Which, these days, is clearly a good thing. 

Last week, we took a trip to Hershey Park.  Because Scarlett has been on a Charlie and the Chocolate Factory kick, we got into the car, fought while inside, and then tasted some sweet treats at our destination. 

Scarlett walked away with a stuffed Kiss, which she named Hershey Park. We didn't go on any rides because we were convinced the moment we bought half-price tickets; the rain would start.  Of course, it didn't rain until we got home. 

We had a blast sticking to our "if it's not free, we're not doing it" mantra.  Of course the Kiss doesn't fit into that or the king size Kit Kat that Scarlett eventually stole from her dad, but those things pale in comparison to a $40 trolley ride down the block. 

I posted a ton of pictures in the photo album, so check them out. 

Scarlett decorating a cookie box to be dontated to troops stationed in Iraq:

As I previously mentioned, we asked for donations to the SPCA for Scarlett's birthday party.  Everyone was incredibly generous with their donations.  We got some really great dog toys, lots of kitten food, and even a pet bed.  Everything was so wonderful that I can't mention each and every donation. 

Scarlett and I lugged everything in from the car, sorted each donation by type (blankets, towels, food, toys, etc) and grouped them into two huge laundry baskets.  The kid was thrilled with all of the stuff.  Our pets?  We had to fend them off--especially the dog. 

The staff at the SPCA were lovely.  They thanked Scarlett for her generosity as soon as she brought in our huge pile via kid's wagon.  I got a quick picture and we were off to look at some of the pets. 

There were two Beagles, but Scarlett fell in love with the older one.  I think she has a soft spot for animals that are scared.  This little guy was shaking uncontrollably in his cage.  I explained to Scarlett that Boreland, our dog, looked this way when I picked him up from a shelter.  This Beagle probably has the same inner crazies as our dog, but I kept this thought to myself.  Before we left, Scarlett wanted to say bye to the scared Beagle.  I told her we could inquire at the front desk to see if anyone had expressed interest in taking him home.  Thankfully, it was his first day at the shelter and a family was interested in taking him home.  Good luck with that one. 

I kid, I kid.

I did find out Beagles are the breed the shelter sees most often (next to Pitbulls).  We looked at some puppies, larger than large cats, and then we were on our way. 

Overall, I think Scarlett felt good about seeing the animals, finding out where Boreland came from, and learning that some pets don't have homes.  I realize that the concept of "donation" can be a little difficult, but hands-on experience by linking stuff, packaging said stuff, and then taking it to animals you can see and touch, brings it all together. 

I let Scarlett know that I was intensely proud of her and that she should be proud of herself.  "You did a really great thing," I told her.  And, I'm hoping that she'll remember that.  You know, more than some toy she plays with for 2.5 seconds and then gets thrown in a closet. 

Scarlett didn't just get a day this year, she got an entire month of birthday celebrations.  We  didn't intend for festivities to go on and on, but on they went.  On her actual day of birth, we had some cake, ice cream and a few presents.  Scarlett, of course, knew that Zoe (the kitten) was her big gift from Mom and Dad. 

On President's Day, we took a trip down to the Franklin Institute for the Narnia exhibit, courtesy of Grandmom.

Then a week later, we met with the Jersey side of our family for a Spongebob cake, some more presents, and some more fun. 

Last week was her big birthday soiree complete with (almost) her entire kindergarten class, two presents, and a whole lot of donations for the SPCA. 

February not only brought presents, a kitten, a dress-up wedding veil, and parties, but also glasses.  Scarlett loves them and thinks she looks like a rockstar.  When she forgets them, she tells me "I can't see anything without my glasses!" 

I have a ton of pictures to upload.  Which I hope to do this week.  Cookie sales are winding down.  Our troop sold over 2,000 boxes and we only have 40 individual boxes left.  With snow tomorrow, I think I'll take Scarlett around to our neighbors to see if we can get anyone to bite. 

As for all of the the small pictures in this post, click on them and you'll be able to see a large version.

I spent a good portion of my day looking for loose candy.  You know, the type that comes in plastic containers.   You can either shovel a little bit into a bag or pick out a piece and keep shopping.  In the past few months, most grocery stores have discontinued their candy canisters.  The only known ones: Wegman's and Super Giant in Willow Grove.  It took me too many trips to find this out. 

I was looking for red gummy bears.  Packaged, the bears would have cost me an exorbitant amount of money.  I did make a trip to the Sweet Factory in the mall and almost threw a punch when the overly rude sales clerk told me "that will be $17.50" for a pound and a quarter of gummy bears.  I walked out.

Scarlett and I spent her time after school and a good portion of dinner making her Valentine's and cupcakes.  She helped every step of the way.  She poured and mixed the cupcake batter, cut the sandwich bags, took out all the red gummy bears from the huge bag, packed the bears, and supervised the sprinkles. 

Unfortunately, this means I need to be marginally presentable tomorrow morning.  I have to go into the classroom with our goodies. 

Rather than buy our Valentine's from a box (no worries if you do), we made ours.  We packed chocolate chip teddy grahams with red gummy bears, heart ribbon, and heart card stock with sayings like "Bear Hugs from Scarlett."  I can't take credit for the idea.  I got it from Family Fun. 

The cupcakes I can take credit for.  One of the Girl Scout moms helped me big time.  Trader Joe's is the only place with alphabet cookies and she picked them up for me.  Go figure that the cookie mom would need cookies. 

Yesterday afternoon with grey skies and falling snow, Scarlett and I made the trek to upper Bucks County to visit some new kittens.  It was a surprise for her and an early birthday present as well.  For at least two years, she's been bugging Steve and I for a brother / sister.  With that totally out of the question, she started asking for a kitten.  What was clear to me was that she desperately wanted something to take care of or at least spend some time with. 

As a lonely only and parents as playmates, I got why she wanted to latch onto something.  The plan was to find a kitten for her birthday to be given on that day.  Only thing is, kittens are extremely rare during February.  To come across a kindle (the preferred name for a pack of kittens.  Knowledge courtesy of the Your New Adopted Pet marathon long DVD) is like channeling your inner leprechaun and striking gold at the end of the rainbow. 

Since I'm Irish, we came across that pot at the Bucks County SPCA,which is where we'll be donating items come February 28th.  On the phone, I was told seven kittens were available and would probably be gone quicker than you can say mac and cheese.  I called around to other shelters.  Nothing. 

We filled out the application where I was partially honest about my love for my dumber than bricks Beagle.  As soon as we walked in Scarlett said, "Is this the shelter?"  I told her it was and her eyes grew Spongebob big and she did a little clap. 

Scarlett picked her kitten, pre-named Zoe, out of two other possibles.  Unfortunately we picked with another family who took two kittens home.  Whew, I'm not that crazy.  Zoe was the one we couldn't get out of the carrier, but trusting Scarlett's intuition, we decided the orange cat with the tiger stripes would be the new addition to our family. 

Our luck continued with the deep discounts at Petsmart for a few supplies.  Overall, Zoe was a bargain.  Once we arrived home and Zoe --at nine weeks of age--figured out what Boreland has yet to master: where to pee and poop, Scarlett told me her last name.  Pom Pom.  And thus, Zoe Pom Pom became Scarlett's new best friend. 

It never occurred to me that Scarlett might need glasses.  Mine have become such a part of my body that I forget I wear them.  Sure, I look in the mirror and see them, but it's not a total drag.  Only for a few months in my mid-teens did I think about ditching the specs for lenses.  That partnership didn't last very long.  I was too impatient to practice inserting clear tissue into my eye.  I quickly said the hell with it and stuck with what I had.  Only on a rare occasion --when I really want new sunglasses-- do I curse myself. 

This week I got a call from the school nurse telling me that Scarlett had flunked her eye exam.  The kid's got a problem seeing things far away.  Ahem, just like me.  While on the phone it dawned on me.  Duh, I started wearing glasses when I was in first grade.  Of course the kid would follow my lineage as opposed to her father's whose side of the family is coke-bottle free.  

After speaking with the nurse, I made an exam appointment.  Scarlett took the news like a champ.  In her mind, I'm a rock star (mine too, actually) and she thinks glasses are cool.  The fact that one of her friends has them too doesn't hurt.   

Her appointment is a few days before her birthday.