'T' is For...

The homework assignment was to draw five things that begin with the letter 'T'. Apparently, I have need to discuss with my son what he wants to draw (and what is appropriate to draw for a school assignment) before he commits his ideas to paper.

This kid cracks me up. Sometimes, all I can do is shake my head.

The Female of the Species

(This is kind of long, but amusing. Don't mess with Mama Bear!)

When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts to scare the monster who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail,
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When Nag, the wayside cobra, hears the careless foot of man,
He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can,
But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail-
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When the early Jesuit fathers preached to Hurons and Choctaws,
They prayed to be delivered from the vengeance of the squaws-
'Twas the women, not the warriors, turned those stark enthusiasts pale
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man's timid heart is bursting with the things he must not say,
For the Woman that God gave him isn't his to give away;
But when hunter meets with husband, each confirms the others tale -
The female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man, a bear in most relations, worm and savage otherwise,
Man propounds negotiations, Man accepts the compromise;
Very rarely will he squarely push the logic of a fact
To its ultimate conclusion in unmitigated act.

Fear, or foolishness, impels him, ere he lay the wicked low,
To concede some form of trial even to his fiercest foe.
Mirth obscene diverts his anger; Doubt and Pity oft perplex
Him in dealing with an issue - to the scandal of the Sex!

But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame
Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same,
And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail,
The female of the species must be deadlier than the male.

She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast
May not deal in doubt or pity - must not swerve for fact or jest.
These be purely male diversions - not in these her honor dwells -
She, the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else!

She can bring no more to living than the powers that make her great
As the Mother of the Infant and the Mistress of the Mate;
And when Babe and Man are lacking and she strides unclaimed to claim
Her right as femme (and baron), her equipment is the same.

She is wedded to convictions - in default of grosser ties;
Her contentions are her children, Heaven help him, who denies!
He will meet no cool discussion, but the instant, white-hot wild
Wakened female of the species warring as for spouse and child.

Unprovoked and awful charges - even so the she-bear fights;
Speech that drips, corrodes and poisons - even so the cobra bites;
Scientific vivisection of one nerve till it is raw,
And the victim writhes with anguish - like the Jesuit with the squaw!

So it comes that Man, the coward, when he gathers to confer
With his fellow-braves in council, dare not leave a place for her
Where, at war with Life and Conscience, he uplifts his erring hands
To some God of abstract justice - which no woman understands.

And Man knows it! Knows, moreover, that the Woman that God gave him
Must command but may not govern; shall enthrall but not enslave him.
And She knows, because She warns him and Her instincts never fail,
That the female of Her species is more deadly than the male!


-Rudyard Kipling

Good Old Fashioned Rule Days...

Here is an enlightening conversation I had with my son in the car a few weeks ago.:

My Son: "Mom, I still remember my teacher from preschool."
Me: "Yeah? What do you remember?"
My Son: "I remember she asked us which tattoo she should get."
Me: "Your teacher was getting a real tattoo?"
My Son: "Yeah. She wondered if she should get her kid's names or stars on her back."
Me: [to myself] "Awesome."

Funny. This topic had not been listed in the newsletter they sent home each month highlighting the curriculum. When I asked my son what he did/learned each day, I thought I was on top of things. Apparently, not.

FYI: The class all voted for her kid's names.

I Don't Know Who I Am or What I Am

The other day, I happened upon the 10 Signs of Alzheimer's disease. After I read them, I was somewhat disturbed to find that I qualify for half of them:

1. Challenges in planning or solving problems- I am daily confounded by the question, "Should I shower, nap, or eat?"
2. Difficulty completing familiar tasks at home, at work or at leisure- Washing the dishes, cooking, and general housework are lately neglected or left unfinished.
3. Confusion with time or place- I no longer know what day it is.
4. Withdrawl from work or social activities- I've only been out of the house 3 times in the last 2 1/2 weeks.
5. Changes in mood and personality- Just ask my husband.

Happy HalloThanksMas

A couple of weeks ago, I was in a craft store perusing their Halloween merchandise. As I picked through the usual selection of neon wigs, cat headbands, skeletons, cauldrons, grotesque makeup kits, etc., I realized that the CD sampler display at the end of the aisle was playing "Let It Snow". The other end of the aisle held shelves of stuffed turkeys, coruncopias, and autumn wreaths. I then experienced what I have titled "seasonal vertigo". Any one else suffering from this condition?

And On That Farm There Was a Mom

There are many firsts in life. Last week, my son got to meet his new sister for the first time. As you can imagine, this was a moment my husband and I looked forward to with much anticipation. When my son came into the hospital room I was just finishing feeding the baby, who was hiding discreetly under a blanket. The following dialogue ensued:

My Son: "Where's the baby?"
My Husband: "Mommy's feeding her."
My Son: "What is she feeding her?"
My Husband: "Milk."
My Son: "Like a pig!"

I knew it was only a matter of time before my son made that connection. This is not, however, the first time I've made that connection.

My Day Old Child

My day old child in my arms
with my lips against his ear
I whispered strongly "How I wish
I wish that you could hear,

"I've a hundred wonderful things to say
(a tiny cough and nod)
Hurry, hurry, hurry and grow
so I can tell you about God."

My day old baby's mouth was still
and my words only tickled his ear,
but a kind of light passed through his eyes,
and I saw this thought appear,

"How I wish I had a voice and words,
I've a hundred things to say,
Before I forget, I'd tell you of God,
I left Him yesterday."

-Carol Lynn Pearson