Love, Not H8

This past Saturday afternoon, my husband and I went to a protest of California's passage of Proposition 8 -- for those who haven't heard, Prop 8 is a ban on gay marriage. A lot of money from religious conservatives went into advertising for it. Since it was passed, there have been protests everywhere.

Saturday was no exception: it was a national effort to get the voices of GLBTQ (Gays, Lesbians, Bisexuals, Transsexuals, and Queers) and supporters heard. Just in the state of Ohio, protests were held here in Columbus, in Cleveland, Toledo, Cincinnati, and Dayton.

Usually we go to my mom's house to watch the Buckeye football game on Saturdays, but last week we dropped my son off there to see his aunt, grandmas, and grandpa, and we went downtown, umbrellas in hand. It was cold, and wet, and as we left my mom's house I was sure we were going to have a miserable time.

I couldn't have been more wrong. At first, we just felt cold and wet, unable to hear much or see anything over the crowd. But we saw some cool posters, and as people moved around, we moved closer and closer to the front and actually heard people talking on the loudspearker. Cars honked in support as they passed, the crowd cheered, and we ended up lending one of our umbrellas to a couple that had no hats or hoods. We got into conversation with a few different people.

All in all, I'm really glad we went. I'm also glad we didn't take the baby -- he would have hated the weather, and with me bringing home germs from the preschool on a weekly basis anyway, he didn't need the extra opportunity to get sick. But it felt good to stand up for something I believe in -- I haven't done that (outside of the Obama rally in town a few weeks ago) since 2003, when the dining hall employees went a strike at my college.

I don't usually talk too much about politics on this blog, and I intend to keep it that way. I will say my piece, and be done with it. This country was founded on certain beliefs, two of which come into play here: first, the separation of church and state. Marriage is both a religious and a political event, but for the purposes of legality, it is only a civil affair. It is a declaration of two (or more -- I'm not polygamous, but it's none of my business if anyone else is) people to join their lives together -- to have the same insurance, file taxes together, see each other in the hospital, and have the ability to inherit from one another in the case of a passing.

Secondly, the pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness. We are talking about Constitutional rights that have been violated and taken away from other human beings. I am in a heterosexual marriage, but I still support the rights of other human beings to decide for themselves what they believe, to decide whether or not they want to marry, and if so, who they want to marry. My marriage is not threatened by any other marriage.

Whether homosexuality is right or wrong, taking away fundamental rights is wrong.

Surely, you must be joking...

*****RANT WARNING*****

We recently bought our friend's car. Today we went down to the BMV to get the title taken care of, since his birthday was on Monday and the plates are now expired. I should probably mention that this was the second (and not final) visit on behalf of this particular car. Let's not forget the three times I went earlier this summer because of my old car.

Oh yes, my friends, this is a story about bureaucratic bullshit.

Let me back up a bit. I have owned my 1993 Nissan Altima for 5 years. Back when my husband and I were first dating, it was the nice car -- his had a broken speedometer, among other things. And really, for a 10-year-old car (even a 10-year-old Japanese sedan), it was in great shape. A few years later, my husband bought a 2002 Mazda Protege. So then that was the nice car. Fast forward a few more years, and we were planning to move to Boston with my newly discovered fetus. On a trip from Columbus to Cincinnati (where his dad lives), the Nissan started making funny noises. We were planning on leaving our cars here while he did a year's worth of grad work (would you want to pay for Boston insurance and a parking spot a quarter-mile from your tiny apartment, and oh yeah, have I mentioned Boston drivers are INSANE?). So we just figured we'd leave my car at his dad's house instead of his car, and in the meantime, my mechanic brother-in-law could look at it.

Long story short (yeah, I know, not that short), we decided my car was no longer fit for transporting an infant. We moved back in February and bought our friend's car with the intention of selling mine soon. It's taken us this long to sell my car, for about 30% less than what we wanted for it. The economists who say we're not in a recession can bite me. In the meantime, the tags expired in June because they were still in my mom's name -- she had turned the title over to me, oh, the weekend before we moved. No time to get new plates then. And because we live in an apartment, any car with expired tags gets a notice. Apparently people abandon cars in these parking lots? If you say so.... So I had to pay for new tags, despite the fact that we had already spent 4 months trying to sell it, all the while not driving it. And then I had my birthday three weeks ago. Another year's worth of tags. And then we sold the car, and they wanted more money from me to turn the title over to the person who bought it! WTF? They already get fees from the buyer, what the hell do they think I am, made of money?

Things must be simpler now that we've sold that car, right? Ha. So my husband goes to the BMV a few weeks back to get the title for the Hyundai (our friend's former car) turned over. Chad had signed the title and mailed it to us, since he lives in Cincinnati. My husband said he'd need to get it notarized, too, because it says right there on the title that that's what you have to do. They argued about it, and Chad insisted he was right. So Brandon took the title in, and guess what? They told him it needed to be notarized. We mailed it back to Chad, who took his sweet time getting it notarized and sent back to us.

So now we're caught up to today, thinking that nothing else could possibly go wrong. Why do we even bother? The lovely ladies at the title agency tell us that we still cannot finalize the sale of this car. (See the title of this post). "The car belongs to your friend and his wife. We can't turn the title over without both of their signatures. You can try going next door to License Services for a 30-day temporary tag so you don't get pulled over." Where they tell us that no, they cannot do that, because it would be illegal. Furthermore, we cannot put my brand-new license plates on this car, because those plates are only in my name, and not in both our names. Bite me. They might as well create a robot to do these people's jobs for them, because we would get just as much compassion from it.

We are now blessed with the privelege of sending back the title, having Chad's wife sign it, get it notarized, send it back, go back into the title agency, and try not to develop depression and ulcers in the process.

And all I could say to Brandon was, "When can we move to Canada?"

Nap time

Monday was great! Or so I thought....

It was a normal day, at first. I woke up, got ready for the day, Adam woke up, and a few hours later was about ready for a nap. Now, he is a short napper. I count myself lucky if he sleeps for an hour or more. Typically, he naps for 30 to 45 minutes, but sometimes he wakes up after 20 minutes with that "Hi, Mom! I'm awake now" smile and I know I'm screwed.

But lately I've been trying to encourage longer naptimes. I usually wait until I hear him crying (or talking to himself) to go in, to make sure he's not just "sleep whimpering," and instead of picking him up and assuming he's done sleeping, I offer to nurse him a little. If he still needs to finish his nap, he'll go back to sleep within five or ten minutes. That usually ensures a total nap time of an hour or two.

So I put him down as usual, and half an hour later, he started to fuss. I put him back to sleep, and he continued to nap for another two and a half hours! I was ecstatic! Too bad I didn't take advantage of it and get some laundry done. Instead, I sat on my tush and read blogs. Bad mommy. I did go in to check on him, just to make sure he was still breathing -- just look what I found!

I figured he wouldn't need another nap that day and maybe even go to bed early. He didn't need a second nap, but he went to bed around an hour later than usual. But that wasn't the worst part. He woke up five hours after he went to bed, and didn't go back to sleep at all until a nap late Tuesday afternoon. We went to the pool with some friends, and he usually gets tired with the sun and the heat, and he didn't even fall asleep in his stroller this week.

I felt better after talking to Kendra, my aunt-in-law. Apparently her daughter Zoe (almost 18 months) was a terror the other day after not getting the nap she needed until 3 or 4 hours later. They had to get pictures taken for passports because they're taking a trip to Canada (am I the only person who thinks the need for a passport to get into Canada is ridiculous?).

He had a two and a half hour nap today. Hopefully he won't wake up super-de-duper early again tomorrow. I have a job interview in the morning and need those precious last two hours or so of sleep. Of course, if I'm tired in the morning, it will be my fault, because I'm sitting here typing instead of having gone to bed an hour ago (or more).

Eh. I think I'll remedy that.