How could I EVER think this would be beneficial?

I must have recieved 3 "friendly reminders" that there was NO SCHOOL on Nov. 4th. It's a day to exercise your right to vote, people! Get out there and complete your ballot. Oh, and when you go make sure to take your kids so they can get a nice glimpse of the democratic process.

Okay, makes sense. I'll even take it one step farther and EXPLAIN to my child what's going on. I run through the whole situation blow by blow. I have to. Cause if I don't I'll be bombarded with questions.

Andrew seems interested. Tells me he thinks I should consider running for President. Hell, he even counts off 9 people he knows would vote for me. I also explain to him that voting is a very personal and private decision. You keep it to yourself and you don't ask people who they're voting for. It's rude and it only gets you worked up when you find out they're voting for "the other guy."

I load up the weasels and strategically head to my Precinct at 11 AM. Nerdish Guy Gordon tells me to avoid lunchtime and dinner time cause all the working greggs will be busting up there then.

I pack about 6 cups of Cheerios and throw it in Drive. On the way there, I once again remind Andrew how private voting is. He seems to get it.

We park a good 3/4 a of a mile away and I start to unload the goods. The stroller, the Cheerios, the diaper bag, the 24 pak of gum that Andrew is obsessed about chewing. Grab my wallet, my phone, my planner, my afro pick in case I need to primp prior to voting. We get close to the doors and of course there are greggs shaking hands and trying to persuade you to vote for them. Telling you it's all a lie. He never fell asleep during a trial. he was just resting his eyes. Andrew's blown away and even asks a state rep if he is Obama.

We get in and the line's a hot mess. VERY few kids. More average citizens moaning and groaning about the economy, school system and their spouses. Andrew runs up to the front of the line and one by one starts asking people who they're voting for. If anyone says McCain he tells them, "that's a poor choice. You should probably re-think that."

It's been 7 minutes and a person leaving says she waited an hour to vote. Shit. What can I do? I have to hold out. It's now or never. If I leave, I won't be back.

Katherine starts getting squirrely so I crack open the Cheerios. She gets a hold of the bag and tosses it 5 feet ahead and cheerios are everywhere. Andrew starts rolling laughing and tells Katherin she should do it again. I'm trying to pick up about 2k Cheerios and all of the people in line and completely disgusted with my parenting skills.

Who cares, man? I see some neighbors who give me that smile that says, "Your kids are cute but you look overhwhelmed." Oh, and of course they would never try to help me or strike up a conversation with my son to keep him occupied.

Then I remember all those little pieces of paper sent home in Andrew's backpack. "Take your kids to the polls. Show them what it means to be an American."

I'm just smoking thinking about the dirt that wrote that. Probably some single woman without kids thinking she's on to something REAL big.

We finally make it up to the gym to vote and I do my thing.

We leave and I'm drving home. Andrew says, "Mom you did the right thing by voting and bringing us with you. But I understand all of this. I didn't need to come with you. I know the economy is terrible. People are losing their houses, Mom. People are losing their jobs even. Dad says bosses are getting meaner and meaner and expect too much out of people. But we're safe. You'll never lose YOUR job. We'll always need you to take care of us. I mean we need your dinners and the laundry has to get done. So don't worry, Mom. Our family will be fine."

I came home and emptied the dishwasher.

Afternoon Dee-lite

So being a SAHM clearly has some perks. I won't go into all of them. Just one I stumbled upon this past week.

I try to stick around the homestead in the afternoon so Katherine can take her afternoon nap. Unless there's a blow-out sale somewhere, we're grounded.

Her naptime allows me to keep a real close eye on all of the happenings in the hood. I like to think of myself as the person behind those neighborhood signs that show a dude in a trenchcoat winking. You know the sign that reads, "This neighborhood patrolled by Neighborhood Watch." We all know what it should say, "Janko knows all. Think twice before you do something stoopid."

The high school kids are dismissed at 2:25. We're considered too close to the school to get a bus so most kids drive. It's a little over a mile away, how could anyone in this day and age possibly walk, right? Teenagers. Lazy asses.

I know when the kids are on their way home cause our street turns into the International Speedway. Radios blaring, cigs al lit up and burnin, tires squealing, etc.

The dude across the street is a senior. It's a REAL big year for him. Now I know why. First off, you have to understand he's a dead ringer for Jesse Metcalfe so when he had his pool party this summer there wasn't a shortage of "smokin hot high school chicks" wading in the water.

He's a hot shot football player, too, so the women flock. This is one of the "french benefits" to living on our particular lot (as Toad tells me.)

Sure enough he comes speeding home every Thursday while Ma and Pa are at work and gets the pad all ready. About 7 minutes later, shuga comes flyin in. I don't think the Wrangler's even in PARK before she jumps out and literally runs inside.

I can just imagine what Jesse has set up. Marvin Gaye's "Sexual Healing" on the turntable, candles blazing. You get the pic. Hell, maybe he even pulls out a bear skin rug.

They're inside for a cool 30 minutes then she waltzes out, jumps in her ride and sails off into the sunset.

I haven't told Toad about my findings cause he'd probably cal me a liar but then pretend he's sick on a Thursday just so he can see what goes down.

We really don't talk to the parents of Jesse much. Nice people, but not much in common.

Toad and I were outside the other day and the parents happened to be out trimming the grass so we all started talking. Toad brought up high school football and commented on what a superstar athlete Jesse is and his parents told us he's having a recurring injury and they can't figure out what's causing it. It seems that every Friday his shoulder is all screwed up. In fact a couple of times it has popped out of the socket. But he won't stop playing football cause it's his love and he can't give it up. (Man do I want to chime in and tell them what else Jesse LOVES.)

Trying to add something to the conversation, I ask if he's putting any ointment on it and he is but it's not enough. When it pops out, he pops it back in (cause he's tough) but obviously he's doing something to aggravate it. Even the coach is stumped.

BUT NOT JANKO!

Later that night Toad and I are talking and he brings up Jesse and how he feels real bad for him cause this injury could affect his chances of getting a scholarship, etc. He tries to tell me he knows exactly what Jesse is going through cause he broke his ankle in 7th grade and he's never been the same since.

I look at Todd and say, "You know Jesse does particpate in an after school activity on Thursdays that's probably causing the problem. Maybe Ma and Pa should stop home from work unannounced sometime and see for themselves."

For some sick reason, Toad got a big smile on his face and said, "OH, no wonder it keeps popping out of socket. I should give him the name of the orthopeadic surgeon I had for my old injuries. Jesse cannot afford to be out of commission."

Just yesterday Todd was running through my planner looking for the dr's name.

He tells me, "I gotta help a brotha out."