Even though I know it’s not technically the last day of summer, for whatever reason, Labor Day always seems like it is to me.    I’m not sure why exactly.  Maybe it’s because I can’t wear white shorts for the next eight months, but once Labor Day has come and gone, it feels like our days of playing outside in the baby pool are over for awhile.  Instead, I dream of a break from the heat in the near future.  I don’t know. ..maybe it’s all just wishful thinking.

If I’m being honest, summer is my least favorite season…by far.  I am definitely a cold weather kind of girl.  So at the end of every August, I’m always ready to kiss this season good-bye.  Sure, we’ve had our good times, and maybe if I didn’t live in a climate with an average summer humidity of 187%, I might feel differently about the season.  Maybe if the environment in the great state of Alabama wasn’t so conducive to the mosquito population, summer might not rank so low on my list, but after three months of being sticky with perspiration and having to douse my kids in either OFF! or sunscreen every time they step outside, I am always ready for a break come Labor Day.

So let this post and the picture above serve as my farewell to my least favorite season.  Good bye, Summer.  We’ve had some great times this year, and I’m sure in nine months I will be anxiously awaiting your return.  But for now, I’m looking forward to luxuries that you just don’t allow like  eating supper outside on cooler nights,  watching my kids ride their bikes, and snuggling around a fire.  Take care.  We’ll see you again soon.

I’ve heard it said before that for every hand written letter a Congressman receives, it is believed that thousands of other voters feel the same but don’t take the time to write.  So I can’t help but ask, if a hand written letter represents thousands of people, how many people do I represent if I go to D.C. myself, stand on the lawn of the Capitol, and deliver the message in person?  That’s why we went this weekend.

We arrived in D.C. on Friday morning.  We weren’t even off the plane long before we started finding kindred spirits.  Even at the airport we overheard people talking about being in D.C. for the march.  As we walked the streets that afternoon, we kept seeing hints that others were there for the same cause:  9/12 Project t-shirts, carrying lawn chairs and coolers along with their luggage, or just groups of people decked out in patriotic gear from head to toe.  Even in our hotel lobby, someone just stopped us randomly and asked if we knew what time the march started.  I guess it was just understood that everyone was going.  As we went to bed that night, I told Ken, “This thing is going to be huge!”

We woke up early Saturday morning.  As we got dressed, we watched from our hotel window as people carried signs and headed in the direction of the White House.  We left a little before nine and caught a cab, and as we approached our destination, the driver had to let us out a few blocks early because the crowd was already growing.

As we walked down the block you could hear the roar from the crowd.  We rounded the corner and there were just people everywhere, carrying signs and cheering.  I was overwhelmed.  Several times I had to choke back tears as I took it all in and focus on not losing Ken in all the people.

I often feel discouraged in this fight because I’m from Alabama, an overwhelming conservative state, where there are few people I can impact with my efforts because we already share the same views.  Let me just tell you right now, Alabamians were not the only ones in this crowd.  If you stood somewhere for more than a minute or two, someone would inevitably ask you where you were from or how far you had traveled.  I was encouraged as we heard so many states represented.  No matter what the media will have you believe, we are not alone!

We spotted an Alabama flag not too far away and decided that might be a good destination as we waited for our “marching orders”.  We weaved our way through the crowd and happened to spot a woman going the other way with an Alabama Tea Party t-shirt.  When we told her where we were from, she grabbed me by the hand and said, “Come with me.”  Still weaving through the sea of people, I glanced back several times to make sure I wasn’t losing Ken but tried to keep up with her as well.  Eventually she led us to a group of people holding Alabama flags.  I shouted out, “Birmingham!” with my arms up in the air, and they immediately welcomed us into their group.

We stood around for awhile packed in like sardines with our new friends, sharing our stories and why we came, but eventually, Ken and I decided that we wanted to see more of the crowd.  We told the group we would look for them again at the Capitol and parted ways. 

Once again, we made our way through the crowd apologizing along the way for bumping into everyone as we went.  Never was an unkind word spoken when I tried to get through or asked to get by.  People just smiled and shook their heads in disbelief.  I think we were all excited to see this great turnout and didn’t mind the headaches that went along with trying to navigate our way through it.

We finally came upon a side street that was a little less packed and noticed a NBC News van.  Beside it stood a reporter and cameraman minutes away from airing a live feed.  People had started to crowd around them.  Some were even yelling derogatory remarks about NBC and their tendency to misreport the news.  My heart went out to the reporter.  I felt pretty sure he didn’t share our same convictions as he stood focusing on his notebook and doing his best to ignore the crowd.  Most of the people were congenial and several began asking how he was going to estimate the crowd turnout.

“Thousands of people…I’m going to say ‘thousands of people,’” he said.

That didn’t please this group since it was already obvious that there were more than 10,000 people there.  They began saying things like, “Do the right thing, man!” and “At least say tens of thousands!”  He grew more uncomfortable and tried not to make eye contact as he waited for his cue to begin. 

The camera started rolling and the reporter became much more animated than before, talking ninety miles a minute into the camera.  We all quietly listened to hear how many people he was going to report were there.  As the camera began to pan the crowd we heard him say, “…thousands of people, some would say tens of thousands…”, and the crowd went nuts.  They began chanting, “U-S-A! U-S-A!”  It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.  And it was enough to empower the group even more.

From there, we continued to walk through the crowd, nudging each other or gesturing with our head in the direction of a clever sign.  And there were A LOT of signs.  I know now that the media has been misrepresenting the signs and found the handful of protesters comparing President Obama to Hitler or other distasteful references and have used these individuals in all their reporting. 

Hear me now, that is NOT a good representation of this group of people.  These were everyday people who care about their country.  People who don’t want to just stand by and watch the ideals that have made this country great get lost in legislation and slip through our fingers.   They are tired of the corruption in Washington and to quote one sweet lady I met in the crowd, tired of the government “bein’ to big for their britches.”  That is who made up this group.  They were your neighbors and your friends.  People just like you and me that are tired of yelling at the news every evening and decided to make their voices heard.

The crowd began moving in the direction of the Capitol, but honestly, we were unsure of it at the time.  We asked the others around us, “Has the march begun?”  They shrugged and said,” Feels like it’s moving.”  Eventually it became clear that we were headed in the right direction, and we continued to walk with the group. 

As we marched down Pennsylvania Avenue the atmosphere was patriotic and positive.  A man stood on the sidewalk playing My Country ‘Tis of Thee on his trumpet as we walked by, and again I had to fight back tears.  There were people pushing children in strollers and some pushing the elderly in wheelchairs.  Some people with their dogs, and some that had come alone.  It was a hodge podge of people united for a cause, and it was beautiful.

Every so often, a thunderous roar from the crowd would start from behind and would carry on down the street that reminded me of the “wave” at a football game.  At first it would be faint, and then grow louder and louder until it came over you and carried on into the people in front.  I’ve never heard anything like it before, and several times, Ken asked, “How do you capture the roar of the crowd with a camera?”

By the time we reached the Capitol, people were already packed in around the reflecting pool and into the grass.  We looked around for the Alabama flags and spotted them up front, on the lawn of the Capitol, just right of the stage.  Once again, Ken and I weaved our way through the people, taking turns leading while the other followed and took it all in.  After being on our feet for about three and a half hours, we finally found our Alabama friends and sat down in the grass.  

There were people speaking on stage throughout the remainder of the day, but honestly they were hard to hear from our location. I have a feeling that was the case for most people.  We spent the rest of the day talking to people around us and trying to capture the crowd with our cameras. 

By three o’clock the crowd began to slowly thin, and we decided that this might be a good time to pack up.   We weren’t too far from our hotel, but didn’t know how long it would take to get to the street.  We made our way through the people one last time.  With every step we took, we saw another picture that needed to be taken.  I felt like we had to capture everything for fear of forgetting what this day was like and how it felt to be a part of it.

We’ve been watching a lot of the news coverage over the past two days, and I still smile knowing that I was there.  I know some of the reports are trying to spin the truth and report fewer people than were there or classify the group as racists.  However what they don’t understand is that’s just going to fuel the flame. 

We knew before Saturday that the media was biased.  We knew that the people with power would hurl insults to discredit us.  We knew all of that, and we also know the truth.  We are fighting on the right side.  We’re on the side that believes in the Constitution.  The side that values family and life.  We want to work hard and be rewarded accordingly, without handouts, and believe that others should as well.  So I say to the media, spin it any way you want.  We know the truth, and I believe you, the reader, do as well.

So that brings me back to my original question.  How many people do I represent by taking my message straight to Washington?  After reading my account, did I represent you?  If so, then next time, will you go with me?

Parenthood is tough.  No doubt about it.  It’s messy and exhausting.  At times it can be gross and hectic.  However, it is days like yesterday that make it worthwhile.

It was just a normal Saturday with incredibly pleasant weather for an Alabama summer.  We spent the morning at  the U-pick blueberry farm near our house.  This was a new experience for all of us, but picking blueberries will now be one of our summer traditions.  It was so relaxing– middle of nowhere, horses in the background, us with a bucket.    It took a little over an hour to pick a gallon’s worth of blueberries.  We spent the drive home talking about all the yummy things we were going to bake.

The weather was so beautiful that it actually inspired Ken to wash and clean his car.  Something I think I have known him to do maybe twice in our marriage (and I think both times it was because we were trying to sell them).  He invited Edie to join him which gave me  some unexpected free time to relax inside and clean something.  Every now and then, I would poke my head outside to see how it was coming.  I think once I came out and Edie was actually washing something.  Most of the time she was just running around, squealing with delight at being sprayed with the hose.

Later after naptime, Edie and I baked a cake with our fresh blueberries.  I love baking with my girl.  It’s one of my favorite things to do with her, and I would do it more often if it didn’t produce such huge caloric intakes afterwards.  But there are times when you just have to bake, and fresh blueberries is one of them.

After supper we all piled onto the couch and watched cartoons while stuffing ourselves with cake.  Later as I was tucking her in and telling her goodnight, I couldn’t help but think that it was for days like these that I wanted children; days spent doing nothing more than enjoying a beautiful Saturday together.

Ken and I met a friend through our involvement in the Trussville Tea Party named Les Phillip.  If you live in the Huntsville/Madison area, you should really pay attention to that name because he is running for Congress in 2010 in your district.   We have gotten to know him really well over the past couple of months, and we have now officially started helping with his campaign.

Being on a campaign can mean many things, and Ken and I have made it clear to Les that we want to help anyway we can.  For someone with as many talents as my husband, that can tie up a lot of your free time, and quite honestly, it has. Especially this week because  Les held his first fundraiser-”An Evening with Mike Huckabee.”

Les gave each of us assignments to help with the event.  Ken’s job was to help with production meaning that he spent many hours running around in the heat, moving heavy speakers, and pretty much, working his tail off until wee hours of the morning.  My assignment was to have lunch with the Governor and ten other Les supporters.  He was to be the key note speaker for the fundraiser that evening, and I guess, we were the entertainment until then.  I told Ken, “You campaign your way, and I’ll campaign mine.”

For several days leading up to it, I contemplated what I was going to wear because let’s face it, this was a big deal to me.  I’ve never met a former governor, or a presidential candidate, or even someone with their own TV show.  My attire was important, at least to me it was.  I had gone over in my head several conversations I might have with the Governor just to be prepared.  As my sweet husband likes to remind me, I can be a bit of a social hand-grenade.  So I was prepared to be on my best behavior (and look good all the while).

I had to drive up to Huntsville for lunch (which is about a two hour drive from our house).  About fifteen minutes before I was to arrive in town, I got a phone call from Les telling me that the Govenor had some work to do.  I was disappointed.  I guess that’s just how it is with important people.  You can take time off work, drive several hours to meet, and practice making conversation, but in reality you are just a plebe.  Well, maybe one day soon this plebe will have a friend in Congress!

The trip wasn’t a complete loss.  We still had the fancy lunch, just minus one Governor.  And the fundraiser was a huge success.  I was bummed because after all my preparation, I didn’t even get to meet Gov. Huckabee or shake his hand.  The only reason I even got within view of him was because my seat happened to be exactly where he was positioned for the “Meet & Greet.” Ironically, while I was eating my rubber chicken and making small talk with strangers, Ken was back-stage yackin’ it up with Huck.

I could have gotten in line to have my picture made with him, but even this plebe has her limits.  When I saw that there were a zillion people in line, I decided I ‘d gone as far as I was willing to go to meet Gov. Huckabee, and that I would just have to settle for this crummy picture with him in the background.

This last picture is of me and my dad (A.K.A. Pop).  He agreed to be my date to the event since Ken was running around behind the scenes.  I was really glad he was there since I don’t do well making small talk with strangers, and in the interest of giving credit where it is due, my sweet mom was back at the hotel with the kids.  There is no way Ken and I could do all that we are able to do without their help.  Thanks again guys for going with us!

This Saturday was a first for me.  Something I have wanted to do for a while.  I ran my first 5K.  If I had to do it over again, I wouldn’t do it in the summer because as you can imagine, it was hot.  But I knew some other people who were participating, and I just went into it knowing  I was going to sweat–ALOT.

I brought my own cheering section with me.  There was something very sweet about my little family getting up early and driving across town to come watch me run.  I don’t know why really…maybe because this was something I was doing for me, and me alone, and they supported it.  As I passed them on the corner, Ken with his camera and  Edie waving her arms, I was filled with love for them.  I am so blessed to have these precious people in my life.  So often I take them for granted because so much of my time is spent taking care of them.  Saturday served as  good reminder that they take care of me too.

Anyway, here are some pictures from the race:

So I will remember my time in case I want to run another, I finished the race in 33:23…and I only swallowed one bug.