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March 20, 2009

Ooh...gutter ball, Mr. President

Mail.google.com Dear Mr. President,

I stayed up last night in my Rocky Mountain town to watch your history-making appearance on The Tonight Show. Well done. You were witty, explained the economic clusterflop we find ourselves in, and again soothed our national fears. All was going smoothly until that off-the-cuff comment about your poor bowling skills and the Special Olympics.

Wow. That was unexpected and I'm sure your assistants were all having heart attacks backstage. During the interview you mentioned the guy who follows you with the defibrillator...I wouldn't be surprised if he was working overtime back there on your aides. I understand that, even before the show aired, you were on the phone to the director of the Special Olympics, apologizing for the gaffe. Good. Unfortunately, you and I both know that won't be the end of it.

There will be an uproar.

There will be screams of insensitivity from all sides.

There will be another public mea culpa.

But that won't be the worst of it, will it?

See, I'm married to a wonderful guy, very sensitive and loving. But on rare occasion, he'll say something dimwitted and I have to call him on it. So, speaking as a married woman, I strongly suspect that when you returned to the White House yesterday, the First Lady was there waiting for you, hand on hip, giving you the stink eye. Dude, I soo would not want to be in your shoes then. See, I know what I would do: walk up to the offending husband, smack him upside the head, and say something along the lines of, "Dumbass! The hell? The Special Olympics? You made a crack about the Special Olympics??? Where's your brain? No NCAA for you this weekend! Oh...don't give me that look! GAH!"

But that's still not the worst of it, is it?

The worst part of this whole thing is trying to explain that crack to your girls, isn't it? I have two boys, my oldest the same age as your youngest, and every bit as precocious. I suspect the two of them would get along great (watch out world!), but I digress. I know my boys remember and love to call me on any and every possible infraction I have ever committed in their presence, foreverandeveramen. Speeding ticket from three years ago? "Mom! Remember when you got pulled over here?" Muttering under my breath? "Mommy, what does #$@%@&*!!!! mean?" Sneaking Halloween candy from the hidey spot? "Mom? WhatareyoueatingAreyoueatingcandyIwantcandyCanIhavecandyWhohascandyIwantcandytooCanIhave candy?????"

Your girls are going to call you on this, Mr. President, and I suspect that is going to be more difficult than any public mea culpa you will do. Our kids are the mirror to our lives; they reflect our flaws back to us more brightly than any klieg light. I know my sons, the oldest especially, would be painfully incessant in their questioning.

So Mr. President, I bet you'll be sitting down this weekend with your daughters explaining the Special Olympics, how bad your bowling skills are, and how one has nothing to do with the other. I'm sure you'll also be talking about mental filters and how to keep them in place during a highly anticipated late night appearance.

And you might want to bump up the adoption of that long-promised puppy. Just sayin'.

Love and kisses,

This is an original Rocky Mountain Moms Blog post.


Jen also writes over at Never a Dull Moment and Hopeful Parents.


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