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Wow.
From the New York Times:

Ms. Palin praised the achievements of Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton, who lost a long and bitter primary race against Senator Obama, saying that she had left “18 million cracks” in the highest glass ceiling in the land.

Then, making an explicit appeal to Ms. Clinton’s disappointed supporters, she said, “It turns out that the women in America aren’t finished yet, and we can shatter that glass ceiling.”

Them’s some bold words. I can’t feel but feel a small thrill about them, but then I remember she’s a pro-life, lifetime-NRA-member evangelical Christian. Sarah Palin and I don’t, ultimately, have much in common beyond having had children and our gender.

The fact remains that on Whit’s 4th birthday something historic is going to happen. We will swear into office our first African-American president or our first female vice president. I devoutly hope it’s the former. But, either way (as someone very dear to me says), we live in interesting times.

Yep. After two episodes of l-i-c-e at CES and one at BB&N last year, and then one at BB&N camp, we fell prey to it. Now, don’t know if anyone knows Grace’s hair well, but she has my hair – which is to say, a ton of it. A TON. To the point where anyone who cuts her hair remarks on it, and when she slept over at James’s Elizabeth reported it took 3 adults to comb it out (perhaps because I never do so, so onerous is the task).
Needless to say, this isn’t the best kind of hair to face with the fine-toothed metal comb. Grace was a very good sport and sat and watched an hour of TV as I worked my way through her hair in tiny sections. It was slippery and slimy and so were my hands. It was kind of gross. Hopefully it’s now all gone.
Then I took Grace to get her hair cut, and it’s up by her chin now. Super short. Also am doing my sixth load of laundry out of about 12 to get all of her sheets, animals, clothes, and towels washed.
Just another day in paradise.

Children totally fried from four hours of running around in the sunshine at the Providence party. Whit sleeps for 45 minutes on the way home and then cries for 30 upon getting home. I finally get ravioli into both of them (under duress and Curious George they acquiesced and ate) and went upstairs to run the tub.
I guess I ran it slightly too hot.
Whit puts his toe in and screams, as though he’s been scalded alive.

“Mummy! You do everything wrong!!!”

Fantastic. Is it next week yet?

Grace and I had a mother-daughter outing to Water Wizz in Wareham today. The place is an enormous water park, full of slides and rides and a variety of pools to play in. We arrived and it was not very warm – I stood shivering in my long-sleeved tee shirt while Grace dove immediately into the smaller kid pools. After a few different experiments in a variety of these pools, she eyed the big waterslide and said: “I want to do that.” I looked at her with disbelief – I was a little scared to do it, let alone her.

We walked over there and I asked the attendant if sh was too small to go. I fully expected “yes” in response but instead he said, “Nope, as long as you go down first.” In fact the place is marked by what feels like a tremendous lack of anxiety re: liability and risk, which I actually find really refreshing. I looked at Grace, and told her she’d have to go alone. Her enthusiasm was undiminished. We walked up what felt like a thousand steps to the top of the slide. We were much older and much younger than the rest of the riders: Water Wizz appears to be a teen mecca. About halfway up she turned to me and said in a stern voice, “Mummy, I’m not shivering because I’m scared. I’m shivering because I’m cold.” Okay.

I got into my tube and looked back at Grace, saying “See you at the bottom!” and pushing myself off. The slide was fast and twisty and actually really fun, but I definitely went flying up around the bends and plummeted into the pool at the bottom at high speed. I turned around and waited for Grace for what seemed like an eternity. When I saw her come around the final bend her face was literally alight. She was grinning ear to ear. As soon as she splashed into the bottom pool she wanted to go again.

We went over and over again. I was frigidly cold and Grace must have been too, visibly shaking as we waited for our turns, but she did not mind. One time she splashed into the bottom pool and flipped over, landing underneath her big yellow inner tube. She surfaced, with a surprised look on her face, and said to me, “Well, that was unexpected!”

About halfway through our visit I realized I hadn’t put sunscreen on either of us. Great mother! I mentioned it aloud and said, “Wow, Gracie, that really dumb of me!” and she said, consolingly, “Don’t worry, Mummy, it was just an honest mistake.” When did she develop the vocabulary and mannerisms of an adult?

She cracks me up, this daredevil big/little girl of mine.