The Hazards of Being Opinionated

My son is at a lovely stage in life where he parrots everything I say.  I'm not kidding.  When Jacob and I get into an argument - er, discussion - I know that I've got the advantage.  It'll always be two against one.  What about Mindy, you ask?  She can't be bothered to invest in conversation with her family.

Jacob complained to me about this the other night.  He's annoyed that Isaac always takes my side.  After pointing out the boy's obvious intelligence and discernment, I also suggested the main reason Isaac doesn't parrot Jacob's opinions: Jacob doesn't have any.

Jacob's lack of opinion is probably what drew me to him in the first place.  He is so darn relaxing to be around!  It's why everyone likes him best (especially my mother).  He's a good, non-judgmental listener, never trying to insert his own opinion, but patiently listening to yours.  It's lovely, let me tell you.

I think it's easier on him, as well.  The number one hazard of being opinionated is, of course, that you're often wrong, no matter how intelligent and thoughtful you are.  I have long wished I was capable of just shutting up, for pete's sake.  It would save me so much backtracking, keep my feet out of my mouth, and I wouldn't be stuck eating so much humble pie.

A new hazard has sprung up with Isaac's current stage in life.  Not only am I always in danger of saying something that will come back to haunt me, but I've got him repeating everything I say.  This is a huge responsibility.  I don't want him going around saying things like, "Well, that girl has a huge booty," and "So-and-so has the world's least-convincing comb-over."  So I find myself saying things like, "Doing well in school is the best fun ever!" and "Mowing the lawn is not only exciting, but a fun, healthy form of exercise."  It's a bit of a challenge squeezing these topics in while watching Dancing With the Stars, but I'm nothing if not a talented conversationalist.

By the way, I've been trying to ease off on the narcotic painkillers, which is no fun at all. (This is another thought I have to try not to voice in Isaac's presence so he doesn't go to school and tell his teachers that "narcotics are fun!")  Yesterday when I saw the doctor for my surgery follow-up, he said that my surgery is a very painful one, and I should go ahead and stay on the painkillers as long as I needed to, and he gave me a refill.  Music to my ears, let me tell you.  So I will continue to be somewhat narcotic-fueled in my blog posts for a bit longer.  Hopefully I won't have any more awful dreams like the one I posted about last week.

Here's a link to a very, very funny website about retro Weight Watcher's recipes.  This is not a website for kids or people who are offended by bad language, so please, don't even go there if you fit into these categories.  I would be sad if I messed up your day like that.  If you, like me, have been so ruined by modern society that you sometimes don't notice bad language, then this is a fun place to go, but make sure that Isaac isn't standing behind you reading over your shoulder because he will totally repeat anything he sees.

Narcotic-fueled brilliance!

I made several New Year's resolutions this year, and one of them was to blog weekly.  I'm doing a better job at keeping my weight loss resolution.  How crazy is that?

For a while, I had the excuse of working a lot, but the tax deadline was nearly a month ago.  I did have back surgery a week ago and have been mostly lying around watching television and reading ever since.  I keep thinking I should post something to my blog, but do people really want to read my narcotic-fueled insights?  Do I even have any narcotic-fueled insights?

The only thing my brain has spawned from the painkillers was a truly awful nightmare earlier this week.  I was chaperoning at a youth rally and ended up on a horrible journey that involved being vomited upon, trying to take care of a baby while being crippled by an unknown neurotoxin, and getting lost on the way back from the bathroom.  I tried to get back to the teens I was supposed to be chaperoning, but I was hopelessly lost, wandering through several sports facilities and children's arcades, a strange retro martini bar filled with men in suits, a sushi kitchen, a courtroom, and a porn palace.  It was the porn that freaked me out enough to make me think maybe this was a dream.  The only thing that would have made the dream more frightening is if I were being chased by clowns.

I don't have much of value to write about, so I've gathered a few links for your browsing pleasure.  I just realized that all the links are on the subject of women.  Interesting.

The first is a wonderful link to a random page that has women laughing alone with salad.  I feel it has something deep to say about how women are portrayed in modern society, and I really want to stage photos of my family laughing with salad now.  I'm not kidding.  When I finally do it I promise to post pictures here.

On essentially the same subject is The World According to Stock Photos of Women.  Apparently stock photos have captured the reality of my life.  I mean, I'm always laughing as I eat salad, and my bedroom is completely white, with completely white linen, and I sleep in a white cami and white yoga pants.  Isn't that what being a woman means?  

Finally, I present you the latest in the endless stream of non-news controversies brought up to pit women against women (which we fall for every time).  This time it's the Time Magazine cover shot of a woman breastfeeding her three-year-old son.  It's getting more news than it deserves, which is why they did it.  I love this column from the Huffington Post's Lisa Belkin.  It's long past time women stopped criticizing each other's parenting choices and started supporting each other.  Parenting is an endless challenge and anyone who thinks they have all the answers is either an idiot or not a parent.

I promise I will try to post again soon.  I'm starting to think my weekly resolution was a bit optimistic of me.