Who decides what is RIGHT and what is WRONG??

Last night in my Psychology of the Death and Dying class we were discussing assisted suicide. The video we were watching preached against it completely. We all know that assisted suicide is illegal and that Dr Death is serving his time now for the 130 people that he aided in killing themselves. However, this topic got me to thinking about how assisted suicide is related to abortion. Abortion is legal all over the U.S. Doctors regularly provide their medical services to mothers who wish to kill their unborn children. I would like to know how this country can legalize something as immoral as abortion and not assisted suicide. I am not by any means speaking in favor of this type of suicide. I am wondering how anyone can make logic out of this type of government. Please tell me how aborting innocent babies is right and deciding to end your own life is wrong. Does anyone have an opinion on this matter?

4 going on 40

My 4 year old never ceases to amaze me. He has made his way from toddler to little boy, and this step is exciting and a little depressing for me all at the same time. I still find myself wanting to tote him on my hip from room to room just to be reminded that "I am not a baby momma." I always say "I know you are not a baby Thomas, but you will always be Momma's baby." He doesn't seem to appreciate this any more than he did when he was 2.

Friday was a long stressful day for me. School, work, and allergic reactions (that is another post) were really getting to me, and all I felt like doing was throwing myself onto the bed in a fetal position and crying until sleep took me over. Friday night I finally finished with the mommy routine of taking baths, eating supper, playing spiderman, and dodging flying legos, when I got a chance to curl up under my covers. After about 15 minutes of daydreaming about how much better and easier life will be in 6 months or so and holding back tears, Thomas made his way to the bedroom and laid his little head on the pillow next to mine. He never said anything just looked in my eyes and stroked my hair. All of a sudden some nurturing instincts that he possessed suddenly made him kiss me all over my face. I got one soft kiss on my nose, then cheeks, then chin. I could no longer hold back the tears, and they began trailing down my face. I have never seen a look of peace and understanding in anyone like I saw in Thomas' eyes at that moment. Without saying a word, he took one little index finger and wiped the tears from my face. I was astonished and completely overwhelmed with my love for this wonderful child of mine, and just like that we closed our eyes and went to sleep.

Boots Gone Wild!

Thomas will be 4 years old Wednesday. We had the celebration this weekend. There was cake, ice cream, toys, clothes, people, and everything else that involves the traditional birthday event. Unfortunatley, this month is the cowboy stage. Okay...this is Mississippi and not Texas. That means that cowboy boots don't go with everything. I decided when I was 8 that my son would not have a pair of these horrible excuse for a fashion statement. I remember being so embarressed to be seen with my brother when he wore his imitation snake skin, chrome tipped cowbow boots out in public with shorts and a tank top. I could not believe my mother let him out of the house dressed like that. Yes, I have to admit that it was the 80's, and I was wearing jelly shoes with colored socks, but I somehow thought that this was the best thing that happened to fashion since tight rolled jeans. Back to the subject. My mother decided that the best thing in the world to buy Thomas for his birthday would be a shiny set of cap guns with a holster. I must admit that he looked absotuely adorable with these oversized guns hanging from his little waist all the way to his knees, but the only thing these play guns did was reinforce the idea that cowboy boots were a must have. I tried to avoid the subject entirely when my mother so graciously told Thomas that momma would buy him his cowboy boots since she had got him the guns. I did everything I could not to turn into the girl from the exorcist and rotate my head around while screaming obsenities in a voice that would bring the devil to his knees. I was doomed. Their was no way out of this. My child was crying for cowboy boots, it was his birthday, his nanna told him I would buy them, and those eyes...they get me everytime. So its 6:30pm, and I am driving to Tupelo to get the damn cowboy boots and be back for cake and ice cream by 8:00pm. I am completely determined to get the most fashionable boots possible when I realize I can get him a pair of Justin boots. Thank god I live in Mississippi. Every male I have ever known has a pair of these boots. The more worn out they are the better. There is no chrome or animal skin patterns. I get to Scruggs, find the Justin boot, and tell the girl to get me this boot (make sure it's this boot) in a 91/2. Okay now I turn into the exorcist girl. There is no 91/2 in this boot. There is not anything close to it (fuck). I glance at the other boots, and they all ooze rodeos, tight wranglers, and memories of 8 year old embarressment. I look at my watch, realize I can't go home empty handed, pick the plainest pair they have in his size and head home. While driving home I yell a few choice words, glance into the passenger seat at the most disgusting excuse for a pair of shoes on earth, and shove them under the seat to rid the sight of them in my periphrial vision. I made it home for the party, and watched as my four year old opened up his cowboy boots. I must say if anyone can make these boots wearable it would have to be Thomas. I think he could make anything adorable. However, I did sneak them off of him and hide them while he slept just to have to bring them back out when he woke up. All the torture was worth it when he grabbed my face with both hands gave me a big kiss, and said and I quote "Tank you momma buying me dat."