Vote For Shane

Sage says:

Dinner at our house is interesting. 

Well, at least to us it is.  Take tonight for instance, we started off talking about politics. 

Squirrel!  With a fifth, fourth and third grader in our house, it is time to start talking about such things.  Shane and I spent our first date arguing, so, you know, it's kind of our thing. 

Monte asked how many people were actually running for president.  Then he asks, “Who you going to vote for, Mom?”

“Well, the person I'm most…no, scratch that.  The person I'm least skeptical of is X.”

Shane (also known as Daddy round these parts)  tells everyone he's voting for himself.

Me, “Wow.  We'd have a packing president.  That would be interesting.  That would really change how people view the President!” 

Bay starts listing all the things she’d have in her new role.  Her daddy laughs and tells her, “NO.  And you'd still have chores.” 

I'm still stuck on how different things would be if our President was packing.  Can you imagine?  Open carry, on the hip.  That would be a game changer. 

And the conversation roles to all the things that would happen if the Faulkners took over the White House (here after known as WH, as it is a recurring theme tonight).  We'd have cattle there, I say.  No need to mow the lawn.  Bay laughs at the idea of Daddy yelling at the dogs to shut up, our first morning in the WH.  Monte says he'd have a covered arena in the WH.  And a whole herd of mini bucking horses. 

Keek thinks Thomas and Uncle Matt should be her bodyguards.  I tell the kids it would be front page news every time they get in trouble at school.  Someone points out that would happen a lot. 

Shane and I talk about the panel of old timers he'd have for an advisory board.  Dad.  Mr. Steve.  I suggest Thomas.  (He's a young rancher we watched grow up). Shane says, “he might turn me down.”  I say  “no, because he's very patriotic.”  Neither of us think about the fact that our old timers list has a young man on it.  Hey, we are new to this whole President/First Lady thing. 

Suddenly I'm enjoying the thought of a huge kitchen and having someone else clean up the mess.  Can you imagine all the green chile I could put up in there?

Shane's being serious now and talking about how we wouldn't use Air Force One for family stuff.  And we would pay taxes. 

Bayler starts laughing, doing an impersonation of a reporter, “Live from the WH, the First Lady just cussed!”

Squirrel....ehhh.  Gotta work on that one, WH or no WH.

Monte just hit a new level of excitement, “Dad – we could fly in a P40!”  Shane tells him, “or an F16!”

Squirrel:  we have pretty active imaginations around here, as you can probably tell.  We are really rolling with this subject.  Hysterical laughter fills the kitchen and manners are barely hanging on by a thread.  But I'm not cussing. 

Shane laughs at the idea of the First Lady having a dog beating up the other dogs in the hood. 

Squirrel!  he's talking about Leroy, my big dog.  Nubs is my pup, and he isn't that tough.  I just thought I should point that out for those of you who have seen pictures of Nubs sporting sunglasses and looking, well, not tough.  Leroy, on the other hand, is a badass. 

Squirrel:  I cussed, didn't I?  Got to work on that.

Bayler informs us that there is a bowling alley in the basement of the WH.  Monte, in complete amazement now, whispers, “wow.  We wouldn't have to go to Espanola?” 

Keek says she would clean stalls at the WH.  She's pretty serious about her chore assignment, and she's been thinking about it for ten minutes. 

We are all kinds of excited about taking over the WH.  Shane really would be a good President.  I, on the other hand, am not real sure I want to be the First Lady.  I think me and my dogs, kids, cows, and all our crazy ideas are best suited to ranch life.  No worries, WH, we aren't taking over anytime soon.  However, Monte did just tell us on his way to bed, “maybe I'll be President someday, and if I am, you guys are moving to the WH with me.” 

I wonder what we will talk about at dinner then. 

Shayla says:

We used to have dinner together every night at our house. We would start it out with the “best and worst” of each person’s day because then everyone was sure to get in on the conversation at least once.

Family dinner led to some great memories that we still laugh about ten years later like the time Alex was complaining about “the popular people” being the worst part of her day. (ADD sidebar: Mean Girls is more than just an awesome movie written by Tina Fey…it’s the real life. Brace yourself Sage.) “I don’t think I would ever want to be popular,” Alex finished her thought. Jesiah laughed to himself before blurting out, “I would! I was popular for one day and I loved it!”

We still have hopes and aspirations that Jesiah will write and star in the film “Popular for One Day.”

Now we rarely have dinner together, let alone at the table.

Life happens.

Kids start playing competitive soccer or football every night of the week.

Boy Scouts becomes a three night a week commitment.

Kids start working.

Kids get married and move out. (ADD Sidebar: Yes a year later I am still coming to terms with it…forgive me.)

And the best and worst part of your day is a blur in an effort to scarf down a meal before you hit the hay and start it all over again the next day.

I can honestly say though, I don’t think we ever got into political discussions at the table.

As the children of a social worker and a police officer, we always joke that our kids will either be really messed up or really well adjusted. Throwing politics in on top of that just seemed exceptionally cruel and bad for digestion.

That’s not to say we never discussed politics with our kids, just not at the dinner table.

I don’t think we would be able to keep it as light hearted as Shane and Sage. That is, of course, with the exception that in our house, the boys outnumber the girls, so at some point our meals always turned to a discussion on bodily functions. I’m 99% sure farting in the White House would’ve come up if we discussed politics at the table.

I now have two kids that are of voting age. Sadly, the most they say about voting for the upcoming Presidential election is that there is no one worth voting for.

I grew up in a household that discussed politics quite often. I don’t know if that’s because my parents were just that civic minded.

(ADD sidebar: My parents were in fact pretty civic minded. My mom was the president of the PTA. My father was the president of the soccer club. They were both very hands on and involved which I think speaks volumes to kids in respect to how they view being an American and what their responsibility is to their community.) 

(ADD sidebar to my sidebar: I was the president of the high school soccer booster club for two years. Here’s a tip for other parents who may be maneuvering through high school for the first time with your child. When the coach asks for volunteers, be specific in how you want to help. Answering “I will help in whatever capacity you need” makes you the honorary president whether you wanted it or not. )

Part of my political prowess as a young child was also because I was one of the nosiest children on the face of the planet.

When sitting in line during the “gas wars” I needed to know why we were sitting in line.

When Iran held Americans hostage, I needed to know why and how we were going to get them back.

And of course there was much anxiety over whether or not crouching under my desk really would save my life in the event of a nuclear war if President Reagan wasn’t able to improve relations with Russia.

ADD sidebar: Does anyone else remember that movie “The Day After” in the early 1980s that starred Steve Guttenberg where nuclear war turned people to dust and blinded anyone who looked in the direction of the blast? It scared the shit out of me.

ADD sidebar to my sidebar: If Sage makes it to the White House I also will have to work on my cussing before I visit.  

ADD sidebar to my sidebar to my sidebar: Whatever happened to Steve Guttenberg?

My dad’s best friend used to tell him when I was little he needed to be extra nice to me because I was going to be the first woman President someday. I think my mom still holds out hope.

I took a political science class in college with the thought that maybe I really could change the world some day.

But the truth is, there is little room in politics for a lady who would rather look at fairness than appeasing her own political party’s agenda.

And if there isn’t a candidate that rises up over the next year worth voting for, I think I’ll write Shane in too.

Better to have a President in a cowboy hat who will shake your hand and look you in the eye with a sidearm on his hip than the one in the suit who stabs you in the back with a pen the moment turn to walk away.

And maybe Shane would consider making me his running mate.

We could have the first Inauguration Ball that serves Fireball shots and sings Karaoke to the music of “Pitch Perfect.”

I’m pretty sure my kids would vote for that.