Sundays with Stretchy Pants

We went to the Obama/Biden thingy in Dublin on Saturday with Kristen and Dawn and their tweens. Yes, we wore matching homemade t-shirts. No, it’s not lame. It’s cool! The kids were bored, but they were so, so good and I know someday they’ll thank us for dragging them there. Lena already told me she wanted to show her future children the “on the road to change” sign that she was able to wave. Awwwwwwwww!

Our t-shirts were cool, thanks to Kristen, but this guy’s t-shirt was the best:

Of course I had to get a picture! I don’t even care that I look like a dumbass in this photo (I am a dumbass, so I should look like one). I’m posting it because the t-shirt says, “Michelle for first lady.” Word.

Dawn has a full report here. Kristen has a bunch of pictures here.

My report is that it was awesome. That’s all. Sixty-five days, people. Get your people to the polls.

I’m a little bit bummed about all of the anti-Alaska sentiment out there. Referring to “moose burgers” and whatnot while making fun of Sara Palin. It seems a little bit mean to Alaskans. I don’t know. It just makes me feel a little bit icky.

And, Palin was all, “somebody* said Hillary put 18 million cracks in the glass ceiling and I’ma bust through ‘em!” Does she know that being anti-women’s rights kind of goes a long way toward sealing up all of those cracks? Seriously. A female VP with her ideology is kind of a wash as far breaking through glass ceilings goes. Of course she can get through the glass ceiling; any woman who doesn’t believe in women’s rights can get through. And any woman who is willing to be used as a pawn by the dudes can get through. Whatevs. It means nothing as far as progress for us.

*And I’m super pissed she quoted my girlfriend without giving credit. Not cool.

Of course I loved Obama’s speech, but I watched it late last night on my DVR and fast-forwarded lots of it. Not because I don’t love his wife him, but because I was sleepy after park day and potluck (we weren’t even supposed to have a potluck, but Kristen is addicted to socializing and at the last minute begged us to come over, so Dawny and I were like, ok, we’ll come over even though it’s a huge burden.) Anyway, I fast-forwarded a lot because I know all about hope already. I am the hopefullest of them all. I knew I was too sleepy to watch it all, but I didn’t want to read about it on the internets without having seen at least a little bit of it. Spoiler alert: There were fireworks.

Um, so yeah, anyway, he’ll be our next president and I’m dragging my big kids (along with Kristen and her big kids and maybe Dawn and her big kid) to see him speak tomorrow at a high school. After seeing that giant stadium filled to the brim, I’m a little bit concerned about our chances of getting in, but it might be fun to try. We’ll see.

You know what else is fun? Cindy McCain’s half-sister isn’t voting for McCain. Haha. Half-sisters are bitches. Always.

I meant to do something fun with the kids to celebrate the fact that they don’t go to school, but I’ve been on Michigan time, I guess. Apparently, Columbus kids went back to school yesterday, but I don’t have any little school kids around me all the time to remind me of these things like I did in Michigan. My nieces and nephews and little friends up north don’t start until after Labor Day, so I’ve been thinking ahead to that day. Usually, I spend the first day of school sighing with contentment and thinking about all of the running around that I would have to do as a school mom, with the lunches and the schedules and the homework and the talking to the teachers and the feeling like I have to volunteer to do crap (not that I would volunteer, I would just feel like I had to and then I’d feel bad that I didn’t and that kind of guilt weighs on a person) and the talking to other parents whom I don’t know but whose kids want to come to my house and eat my food. I only like to feed my friends’ kids. I’m suspicious of strangers’ kids and their need to eat. But I didn’t even stop to think about it on the first day of school this year and now I feel like I missed my chance to really revel in the homeschooling. Because, very soon after the first day’s contented sighing and whatnot, comes a day or two here and there when I think that maybe all of that running around that school moms have to do is pretty well worth it for 6 or 7 kid-free hours. Pretty. Well. Worth it.

Liberty just reminded me that I’m 10 minutes late for breakfast, according to our new fall schedule (breakfast at 8:15 sharp!) so I told her I’m going to put her in school if she doesn’t shut it. And then I said, “The other kids in the neighborhood got up at 6:15 and got on the bus with a Pop-Tart, so you should just be glad you got to sleep this long and that you’re getting a hot breakfast when I’m done with my blog!” She responded with, “What kind of Pop-Tart?” *sigh*

I know it was hard for you, but you did it. I especially loved the part where you told your still-whining supporters who keep saying they’re not voting for Obama to suck it up and think about the frickin’ country instead of the fact that the president won’t be a chick in a hot pantsuit:

I want you to ask yourselves: Were you in this campaign just for me? Or were you in it for that young Marine and others like him? Were you in it for that mom struggling with cancer while raising her kids? Were you in it for that boy and his mom surviving on the minimum wage? Were you in it for all the people in this country who feel invisible?

No kidding, PUMAs. You’re so lame with your whining:

By following the example of a brave New Yorker, a woman who risked her life to shepherd slaves along the Underground Railroad.

And on that path to freedom, Harriet Tubman had one piece of advice.

If you hear the dogs, keep going.

If you see the torches in the woods, keep going.

If they’re shouting after you, keep going.

Don’t ever stop. Keep going.

If you want a taste of freedom, keep going…

But remember, before we can keep going, we have to get going by electing Barack Obama president.

We don’t have a moment to lose or a vote to spare.