Dear Governor Bryant,

I bet you’ve had a weird day, today.  Were your PR and Communications team running around like mad men? I bet their mouths dropped open and they whipped out their Blackberries during that Washington Post Live event. They hoped their calls, texts and Tweets were the extinguisher to put out the firestorm you started.  How many reporters have called your office for comment and response since then? I would wager to guess at least some of your staff are still at the office in crisis mode tonight.  The local news media in Jackson is probably swamped covering this story and getting reaction for the evening and night news.  I wonder how busy they are at the Mississippi Republican Party headquarters?

You knew what you were doing when you said it.  You knew it!  The event was focused on improving children’s literacy by the third grade.  The moderator asked you how American education had “become so mediocre.”

Your response? “I think both parents started working. And the mom is in the work place.”

Your backpedaling began immediately.  You went on to recognize you would get a ton of emails about this, knowing it was a controversial statement and would likely offend millions of working mothers and their families.  In your defense, during the backpedaling you did say that US students were behind other countries because they invest more in education.  Okay, I agree with you there.  That could be a good explanation.

Your statement meant journalists and fact checkers went into overdrive today too.  This ABC News report cites statistics from the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development and the National Center for Education Statistics.  The OECD finds 67% of US mothers with children under 15 work outside the home.  The NCES states that 77% of Finnish mothers work outside the home, but Finland ranks higher in reading than American students.
Sounds like you were right with your backpedaling, Governor.  I also heard your wife worked outside the home for decades, even while raising your kids.  I think I speak for everyone when I say, “Huh?”

Governor, my heart is with all the working PR, communications, news media and political advisors that are working overtime tonight because you said something so ridiculous.  I have to imagine a number of them are working mothers and not able to be home tonight with their children.

Sounds like you are contributing to the mediocrity of those children because their mothers aren’t at home.  Way to go.

For the record, I wrote this after my child went to bed.  Fingers crossed, my working after hours won’t make her fall further behind the Finnish.

Sincerely,

Amy

I was so looking forward to catching up on some writing.  Imagine my shock last night after brewing my decaf coffee and settling in on the couch with the laptop to find this…

Um…who is that generic-looking college student and what the hell is she doing on my blog?  I panicked and immediately contacted the woman who is my savior when it comes to technical blogging fiascos, my blog host Kelly from Twenty70Hosting.  I’m all like, “Kelly!  HELP! What happened?!”

Turns out, my domain name had expired even after automatically renewing itself last year.  So, um, okay. What was up? Apparently my payment method had expired also.  I registered somebodysparents.com like, I dunno, 1 1/2 or 2 years ago.  I learned if you buy through eNom or GoDaddy, an expired domain automatically defaults to Google. (Specifically Google Apps.) Google Apps sent me notices to my Gmail saying that it would automatically update.  Great! No worries!

Ha! What a joke.  According to Google, I don’t have access as an admin to MY OWN DOMAIN!  Yes, the one that I own. Huh?! Any time I requested a username or password change to log into Google Apps to reclaim my domain I got a response that it was an invalid request.  Kelly couldn’t help me unless I could reclaim my domain name.

In desperation I called GoDaddy and eNom. They told me to log into Google Apps.  Right.  Sure.

In further desperation I called Google Apps support.  They wouldn’t let me talk to anyone without getting a pin number from my Google Apps admin page.  Yep, the same one they wouldn’t let me access after repeated requests.  Right.  Sure.

This went on until nearly midnight, way past my bedtime since getting knocked up again.  I sent a sad Tweet and posted a pitiful message on my Facebook Fan Page before collapsing into bed.  I couldn’t do anything while I was busy at work and busy as a mommy this evening.  I sadly ignored all the amazing Facebook messages and Tweets from some of my darling readers today. They just made me sadder.  (I have since responded. Thanks for all the support! Love you guys!)

I will tell you.  I never actually cried over the Internet.  (Even though I wanted to.)

Yes, I was worried about blog stats, SEO and losing readers.  Of course.  All bloggers worry about that stuff.  But, that is not what made me panic.  It’s not what made me want to cry.

I almost lost it because I thought I had lost all the memories I had recorded.  This blog is not a place where I just write about cool free stuff I get.  This is my heart and my life on a screen.  The thought of losing it was terrifying.

So, until I can get Google’s attention, Kelly helped me get set up here at somebodysparentsblog.com until some Internet Nazi from on-high will let me have somebodysparents.com back.  I will change it on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest etc. Let me know if I missed somewhere to update.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading.  I will keep writing because I love it.  Before I collapse in bed tonight after another evening of troubleshooting, I will leave you with a picture of the girl I always want you to see when you come to this place.

Sometimes I’m really proud to say this, and sometimes I feel super guilty saying this after hearing the horror stories of my friends with Princess-Kate-Like-Morning-Sickness. You ready for this?

I went my entire first pregnancy without puking.

It’s true. It was crazy. Conception through delivery, no barfing. I was queasy and uncomfortable in the first trimester, but it never resulted in toilet hugging sessions. I felt like Jerry Seinfeld in that episode of Seinfeld where he explained he hadn’t thrown-up since 1980. It was 1993 by that time. That’s a huge vomitless accomplishment if you ask me.

When I made it through the first trimester this time I thought I was in the clear. No such luck. Here’s what went down, well, came back up…

Monday I had an event for a client at work where I was filming a presentation. A large part of my job is video work, stemming from my news shooting and editing days. We were at a very nice local hotel for the event. I got there early and had everything set up and ready to go. The woman I was working with was very kind and we chatted about families and I mentioned that I was expecting my second baby. As it often happens, when you tell someone you’re pregnant, they offer you food. She walked me over to the snack table of charming carnival food the hotel had on display for the event. They had soft pretzels ya’ll. Soft freakin’ pretzels. I suddenly needed something salty and was excited to indulge. I tweeted out this pic on Instagram…

That’ll teach me to brag. That’ll also teach me to dip anything in mustard, a condiment I’ve long had an aversion to. The 90 minute presentation got underway and I happily panned and zoomed across the room. The speaker’s remarks were interesting and I learned a lot. I only ate about half of the pretzel. Suddenly I wasn’t hungry. About halfway in I felt some rumbles. I got really hot and then really cold. I started feeling dizzy. I looked at the mirror over the snack table. Ooph! Pale. I looked down at what was left of the pretzel next to me. Ugh! I looked around to see if anyone was looking at me. I wiped sweat off my head. Oh God! No! Not here.

I quickly zoomed out, left the camera rolling and tried not to run, but just walk out of the room with any dignity I had left under the sweat. When I hit the hallway I sprinted to the restroom. I got to the first stall in the ladies room of this four-star hotel and made like a drunk in a first-star hotel. I cursed the pretzel the whole time.

Just the smell of mustard could do me in until this baby is born. I’m thinking this may have been just something disagreeing with me, not morning sickness. So maybe I can just say I made it through two pregnancies with no morning sickness? Is that too braggy? Yeah, maybe I’ll just shut up.

I’m sitting with my feet up in my new living room with boxes scattered around and my darling husband talking to the TV about NFL draft picks. I’m deliriously tired and deliriously happy.  We almost didn’t get to move in because of idiot underwriters’ contract mistakes and slow bank workers, but we’re here.  This week I’ve felt stretched very thin between demands at work and the demands of moving, but we made it.  I keep looking around in disbelief that we are finally here.

We cried when we left the old house for the last time thinking of all the memories in that house.  It’s funny, just a few days later it feels right to be here. Let the new memories begin…

Oh hey! We’re homeless and spending two nights in a hotel while we finalize things for one house and then move into another.  It’s a tad chaotic, but fun.  We’re making the most of it.

We’ve been having a lot of discussions with Charlotte about babies, I had to share this recent conversation:

Me: “Charlotte, what do babies do?”

Her: “Um…they cwy!”

Me: “That’s right! They cry. What else do they do?”

Her: “Um…they sweep!’

Me: “That’s right! They sleep. What else?”

Her: “They crap!”

::pause::

::look at Greyson as his mouth drops open::

Me: “Charlotte! That is not a nice thing to say! Where did you hear that?”

Her (looking confused): “They crap!”

Greyson: “Charlotte that’s not how we say that.”

Her (looking confused): “They crap der hans!”

Us (backpeddling, feeling relieved): “Oh! Yes! Babies do clap their hands! That’s so good!”

Charlotte went on to sing a rousing rendition of “If You’re Happy And You Know It Crap Your Hands.” You can imagine Greyson’s hand motions to this version of the song later in the night after Charlotte had gone to bed.