Happy birthday to me: Bone death be damned!

Yes, today is my birthday. Forty-seven years old. Dear god, 47. Can it be? Fuck me. My father said it best: "Steffie, I cannot believe I have a daughter who is 47 years old!" I hear ya, Dad. I can't believe it either.

If it wasn't for my appalling and rapidly deteriorating physical condition, I'd say I was as happy and fit as ever. That is quite obviously not the case, at least not the fit part: I have glaucoma, Crohn's disease (for which I take infusions of a horrible immuno-suppressant called Remicade), and now a torn meniscus and avascular necrosis. That last diagnosis is as evil as it sounds: BONE DEATH. All the steroids I've taken through the years to combat Crohn's has resulted in improper blood flow to the bones in my joints. The right knee is the first to suffer. If I hadn't torn my meniscus dancing in March (thanks Sharon and Steve!!) the doctor said I might not have caught it until it was "too late."

So, I spent part of my birthday today getting an MRI on my right knee (the second one in six weeks). Results Wednesday. Will it be total knee replacement? Or just pins and scraping and injections and crutches for 6 more weeks? Stay tuned!

How is that I can feel so good and yet be so riddled with physical ailments? I mean it's not cancer or MS, but c'mon--glaucoma, Crohn's disease, and bone death? What gives? What twist of fate dealt me these cards? And can I turn them in for new ones?

When we hit middle age (and let's face it, 47 is actually well beyond middle age; I rounded that bend some time ago), we invariably look down the road. I see lots and lots of obstacles, and very little tennis or jogging. This is what I thought about as the MRI whirred and shook this morning, and I feel better getting it off my chest.

Best birthday gift? My husband bought me a car. A NEW car, mind you, the adorable and fabulous and super-fuel efficient Volkswagon Jetta TDI Sportwagon. Crazy. I've never had a new car, ever, so this is a first and huge treat. He is entirely forgiven for completely forgetting it was my birthday today until 90 minutes after he woke up and checked his datebook. The kids forgot entirely. Willa ran to her room and gave me two notebooks she found in her drawer and a clay dung beetle she made at the art museum. Oskar ran to his room and wrote me a gift certificate for "One hour of mostly whine-free chores of my choice, subject to availability."

I got texts and Facebook posts from all my lovely friends, so this is a good, good day. Avascular necrosis be damned! I hate jogging anyway.

Chris Eigeman on Slate

A great piece by my dear friend Chris Eigeman on Slate.com last week, in which his son learns a painful lesson on the playground at the hands of a dismissive girl:

Trust Me on This: “Abbey Road”

Polls, pundits, and the problem with women

Dear God. It's best 18 months since my last blog post! Pathetic, I know, but in my own defense, in that time I have been fully employed ghost writing and ghost blogging (yes, ghost blogging) for various clients. That phase of my freelance life is drawing to a close, however, as I turn back to my own writing.


This may be a lame reentry into blogging, but I am posting my column from last week's Jersey County Journal (unless you are one of the lucky 10,000 households that gets that paper back in rural Jersey County, there is no where to read it online):


Polls, pundits, and the problem with women
(originally published 4.25.12, The Jersey County Journal)

Political campaigns get boring very quickly. The candidates deliver the same stump speech over and over; reporters parse their words with care, looking for stumbles; and the media pounces on anything it can to keep it interesting.

Of course, sometimes something interesting does happen, and this is usually the result of a gaffe on the part of a politician, pollster, or pundit. Such was the case two weeks ago when Democratic strategist and CNN political contributor Hilary Rosen said that Ann Romney had “never worked a day in her life.”

What followed was a weeks-long thunderstorm of stories, speeches, columns, editorials, Twitter feuds, and blog posts denouncing Rosen for her insensitivity toward women who choose to stay home and raise their children.

Rosen’s comment was idiotic, but what I find even more idiotic is the media’s refusal to place it in the context in which it was delivered, to paint it as a fight between stay-at-home moms vs. work-outside-the-home moms, and, worse, to ignore the real political issues facing women in this election, issues that I think Rosen was trying to (and did) raise but got sidelined by her comment.

Let’s start at the beginning: Rosen was a guest on "Anderson Cooper 360" and they were discussing the conflict between the Romney campaign’s new focus on the economy and his disconnect with women voters. Why is this important? An ABC News/Washington Post poll puts Obama ahead of Romney by a whopping 20 points among registered female voters, who make up 53 percent of the electorate. Women are key. Here is what Rosen said:

“Ultimately I think Mitt Romney is right, that women care more about the economic well being of their family, but he doesn't connect on that issue either. What you have is Mitt Romney running around the country saying, ‘Well, my wife tells me that what women really care about are economic issues, and when I listen to my wife, that’s what I’m hearing.’ Guess what? His wife has never actually worked a day in her life, she has never really dealt with the kind of economic issues that a majority of the women in this country are facing in terms of how do we feed our kids, how do we send them to school, and how do we worry about their future, so I think yes, it's about these positions, and yes there will be a war of words about this position, but there is something much more fundamental about Mitt Romney…in that he doesn't really see us as equal.”

Rosen apologized the next day and applauded Ann Romney’s decision to stay at home and said she meant that Mitt needed a better understanding of the economic issues facing women. This did nothing to assuage the furor over her comments and did absolutely nothing to turn the debate back to where it should be: on the economic issues that face women and how the Romney campaign can better understand those issues and court crucial women voters.

Ann Romney, on Fox News, coolly and calmly said that her career choice was to be a mother and that we need to respect all the choices women make. A judicious and polite response, but again, the debate became working mother vs. stay-at-home mother, traditional-values-hating Democrats vs. respect-traditional-women’s-choices-Republicans, and not on the economic and political issues that face women in this election: the fact that men are being re-hired at a faster rate than women, whether contraception should be mandatorily covered by health insurers, affordable access to health insurance and child care, the wage gap, where women still earn 80 percent of what men do, etc.

Those are the political issues that candidates must address and that the media should be asking about. Rosen’s point, however poorly delivered, was that if you are Mitt Romney and you want to understand the struggles that the average American woman faces, you might do well to look outside the example of your own home. Yes, it was callous to say that Ann Romney had never worked a day in her life, but the point is that it’s a lot easier to make the choice to be a stay-at-home mom and raise your kids when you never have to worry about money, health insurance, tuition, and childcare, let alone cleaning your own house or shopping for groceries.

All women worry about the same things: will my children do well in school? Will they find good jobs? Are they good people? But the vast majority of women—whether they stay home or not—also have to worry about income, health insurance, good schools, and the like. Rosen was not questioning Ann Romney’s life choice; she was questioning whether Mitt Romney is in touch with the issues that face the vast majority of American women, and if he can close that crucial gap by November.

According to US News and World Report, in every presidential election since 1964, more women than men have voted; 10 million more in 2008, alone. Since women make up 53 percent of the voting electorate, courting women voters isn't just politics, it's the key to victory.

The Column They Wouldn't Run! Part II

My column, "Dodge Trucks Are..." made the rounds thanks to the magic of e-mail and good old-fashioned hand outs from friends who copied it and passed it along.


But, more important, the Jersey County Journal (the paper for which I am a columnist and wrote the piece) ran it last week as a letter to the editor!


Here's what happened: the owner wouldn't publish it as a column, so the regional editor suggested that I resubmit it as a letter to the editor, because the paper's policy is to run all letters as long as they aren't slanderous or libelous. So, I resubmitted the column as a letter and they published it last week.

The Column They Wouldn't Run!

In addition to freelance writing, I am a staff columnist for the local paper in Jerseyville, Illinois, and have been for the past four years. As an independent/liberal I often bump up politically against the owner and publisher, who are conservative. For the past few months, the paper has published an steady stream of columns and letters by the local Tea Party and 9/12 groups, with no balance from other parties or interests. So, in response, I wrote the following column. The owner refused to publish it. So, here it is:

Dodge trucks are…

By Stephanie Abbajay

Repeat after me: Obama is a Muslim. Obama is a socialist. Obama is not an American citizen. Say it over and over again. Hmmm. Still not true. Say it again, and louder this time. Still not true. Well, It doesn’t matter, because in many quarters of American politics, truth is beside the point.

This tactic has been used for decades. Why? Because it works. I first learned this back in 1987, when I was fresh out of college and living in Washington, D.C. The presidential primaries were in full swing, and my roommates and I were in the thick of it: I was working for one of the most conservative Republican political consultants in town (he had been Jessie Helms’ foreign policy advisor); one of my roommates worked on the Bush-Quayle campaign; and the other worked for the great Republican political consulting firm Black Manafort Stone and Kelly, which ran all the big Republican campaigns.

To train its young operatives, several of the Republican consultants ran a campaign college. The first day of class, the teacher walked in and said simply, “Dodge trucks are.” Then he waited. He said it again. “Dodge trucks are.” A few people sheepishly replied, “Ram tough?” The instructor smiled broadly and, in an encouraging voice, said, “Dodge trucks are?” and the class responded, “Ram tough!” Again and again the instructor said it and again and again the class responded until people were screaming in unison, “Dodge trucks are ram tough! Dodge trucks are ram tough!”

The instructor quieted the room. He then said in a serious voice, “Are Dodge trucks ram tough? Who knows? Who cares? Doesn’t matter. If you say it enough, it’s true.” Class had begun.

From that starting point, students were taught the consultants’ cardinal rules of campaigns and politics: First, you win by destroying your opponent. Second, appeal to the base, and play on their fears and emotions. Third, if you say it enough times, it becomes true. Fourth, speak in platitudes and don’t worry about details.

Now, this is no secret. These are tried and true tactics. Any student of politics knows that you have to play hardball. Politics is a contact sport, where all’s fair. But right now, the shrill and ignorant rhetoric of several of the parties, candidates and talking heads has reached a deafening crescendo. I have never heard anything like it, and it has gotten to the point where I am actually uncomfortable. For example, when I hear people say that our president is a socialist or a Muslim or not an American citizen, I am just embarrassed for them. Really? You honestly believe that?

As much as I am disturbed by this, I am, at the same time, impressed with how well these political groups know their base and cater to its deepest and darkest fears. These operatives know that in order to win they have to motivate their base. And in order to do that, they have to create a monster so scary, so anathema to their base’s sense of self that they will ignore all reason, all truth, all evidence to the contrary. That monster is a black socialist Kenyan Muslim indoctrinated at an al-Qaeda funded Indonesian madrassa who wants to raise their taxes and reach into their wallets so he can give free health care to the illegal immigrants who are taking all their jobs. 


And the base took the bait, hook, line and sinker. People actually believe this stuff. It’s impressive in a really, really scary way.

But as impressive as it is from a politically operational standpoint, at some point, someone has to stand up and say, come on, enough is enough. Obama himself has repeatedly said enough is enough, but no one listens to him because he’s the president and that’s yesterday’s news. Plus he’s an illegal Muslim socialist immigrant, and who listens to them?

But hark! Suddenly, two sane voices rise above this chorus of insanity to urge calm and civil discourse. Who are they? The country’s most popular comedians, Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert.

With their Oct. 30 “Rally to Restore Sanity,” Stewart says, “We're looking for the people who think shouting is annoying, counterproductive, and terrible for your throat; who feel that the loudest voices shouldn't be the only ones that get heard; and who believe that the only time it's appropriate to draw a Hitler mustache on someone is when that person is actually Hitler. If we had to sum up the political view of our participants in a single sentence... we couldn't. That's sort of the point.”

It says a lot about the state of a country’s political dialogue when the comedians are the ones calling for measured discourse. They’d never graduate from campaign college with that attitude, that’s for sure.

Stephanie Abbajay is not a socialist or a Muslim. And she was born in Toledo. And that’s Ohio, not Spain.

Oskar and the C-word

Every day when I pick Oskar up from school I meet with his teacher for a debriefing on how he behaved that day. In order to encourage positive behavior, the school has devised a point system whereby if Oskar earns a certain number of points, he receives a reward – screen time at home (his holy grail). If he does not earn enough points, he does not earn screen time (which includes TV, computer and his beloved Nintendo DSi). Oskar carries a clipboard with him from class to class, and each segment of his day (there are 7) is graded independently in 4 different areas (staying attentive, being polite, hands to himself, being quiet) on a scale of zero to 3.

Every day, Oskar’s teacher meets me at the door and goes over the day, class-by-class, point-by-point. By now, Oskar is done. He is tired and impatient and just wants to know if he earned enough points or not. But every day, his teacher and I go over each class and each point and discuss both where he did well and where he needs improvement. Then she tallies up the points and delivers the score.

This purpose of the protocol is to show Oskar that he is accountable for his behavior and his actions, and that good, acceptable behavior will be rewarded. I feel so fortunate that the school is on board 100 percent with a behavior modification plan, and they have bent over backwards to accommodate us. I mean, what kind of teacher takes this much time and effort for one student? It’s incredible.

Nevertheless, it’s also exhausting and increasingly demoralizing, as Oskar’s behavior is remarkably inconsistent. We can do everything right at home – a great night’s sleep, plenty of exercise, a good healthy breakfast, a nice walk to school – and then when he gets to school, there is no rhyme or reason; he can still have a bad day. You never know.

So, when 3:15 rolls around I start to steel myself for the meeting. What good or bad news will I get today? Will he earn enough points to watch “Modern Family” and play Sims II or will I have to find some way to occupy an angry Oskar for the entire evening? Will he be proud of his ability to control himself or will he be bitter and convinced that everyone is out to get him? Increasingly, I have considered taking a bracing shot of whiskey before I head out the door…

In addition to the daily meetings with his teacher, I also meet with the principal, who informs me of behavioral transgressions in unstructured, non-academic settings, like lunch and recess. This school has high expectations for their students’, and they do not cotton to inappropriate behavior. Two weeks ago, the principal spoke to me about Oskar using more appropriate language, after he reported being “in a pissy mood” and threatening to “kill” another student if he lost his place in a book. Last week, the principal talked to Oskar again when, during recess, Oskar took two basketballs, put them under his shirt and pranced around, pretending to have breasts.

On Monday, the principal had to speak to Oskar again about proper lunchroom behavior and respecting his food when, during lunch, he frosted his sloppy Joe with his strawberry yogurt, stuck a carrot stick in the top and sang happy birthday to a classmate.

Yesterday, when I went to pick Oskar up his teacher said he had a very bad day. Indeed, he earned only a meager 64 points (far short of the 74 needed to earn screen time). At this point, Oskar stormed out of the building, and we could see him through the glass doors as he sulked, teary eyed on the playground. His teacher went class-by-class, point by point, to show me where he had trouble (not keeping his hands to himself in Spanish, being silly in music, etc.).

Worst of all, she said, was that he was used inappropriate language. She leaned in close to me and whispered, “He used the C word.” My jaw dropped. My heart sank. I think I may have even gasped. “He what?” I said, incredulous. She nodded, “Yes, the C word.”

Simultaneously, I started spelling, “c-u-?” while she said, “crap.” She looked at me and I looked at her. I was a little embarrassed that I went there, but I recovered quickly and said, “Yes, that is unacceptable. He can’t say crap in school and we will talk about it tonight.”

He didn’t earn screen time last night, and instead used the time to teach himself how to knit. I have to admit, I almost gave him screen time for NOT saying the c-word. It’s a start.

City Girl

While I am still baking biscotti and writing my columns for the local paper out here in Jersey County, Illinois, I'm not entirely the Country Girl anymore. In August, we rented a house in the tony enclave of Clayton in St. Louis so the kids could go to the terrific public schools here (Spanish starts in first grade!). Last year, I was schlepping Oskar into St. Louis every day to attend a special private school that caters to kids with learning disabilities. Oskar has a weird and challenging cocktail (a "witch's brew" as one of his doctors put it) of neurological and behavioral impairments: Tourette's Syndrome, mild Asperger's, ADHD, and a few other acronyms. It was a brutal commute and every day was stressful. So, for the half the amount of that tuition, we rented a beautiful 3-bedroom duplex in the fantastic DeMun/Captain neighborhood, and now both Oskar (5th grade) and Willa (1st) are at the same school. We go back to the farm on weekends and Dave Stine does his best to make it to the city a few times a week. We're still trying to get into a groove, but so far so good...