State of the Urinal

My fellow Peanut Butter Urinalites, the state of our union is strong! We’re emerging more powerful and better than before. Like President Lincoln once said, we did not adhere to the dogmas of the quiet past. What was true then can be true now. Our optimism, work ethic, and commitment to discipline and bribes have all brought about this spirit of prosperity.


Through bipartisan efforts this year, we passed a budget—something our critics said could never be done. And yes, there was some pushback. Those grocery store trips, for example, when Sam, from his seat in the cart, reached up high and tossed a package of powdered donuts into the cart. And Nate, at the same moment, reached down low and grabbed a package of chocolate donuts. My friends, those donuts add up!


The austerity measures we passed this fall have proven successful. In spite of the budget-busting Christmas season and our participation in an upcoming wedding, the state of our household finances remains stable. Several months have now passed without exceeding our grocery limit, and we continue to chip away at our deficit. This is how we recovered from the worst economic crisis in generations. Anyone claiming our finances are in decline is peddling fiction!


We tackled prescription drug abuse—not a single person in this household ingested a single prescribed antibiotic this year! And we acquired some Ninja Turtle Band-Aids for Christmas, so we’re ready for anything!


We even passed a criminal justice reform measure. As a result, Nate and Sam are spending less time in time-out and more time on “the outside,” working on puzzles, looking at picture books, and writing computer code—skills that will strengthen their readiness for the challenging and ever-changing job market.


Let’s talk about the future, for we are living in a time of extraordinary change. I have a list of proposals—things that matter to our working family—for the year ahead.


Gun control. First, Nate and Sam are young, too young , to be using firearms. I propose that all water guns be removed from their possession—especially now that they’re able to reach the faucet. Second, we need more thorough background checks before the purchase of any weapon-like product, such as an empty paper towel roll. Or a shoe.


Our unemployment rate holds at about 80%, as only Tighe holds a job with an income. Wally is labeled “enlisted” and Nate is a “student.” He totals 18 hours a week in school, five to six hours avoiding the nutritious dinners I cook, 84 hours sleeping, 156 hours asking for something—either fruit snacks, chocolate chip granola bars from Trader Joe’s, or time on his Kindle—and 245 hours debriefing me on his status. Either the plot of his dream last night, why Sponge Bob is not a terrible show, or the psychoanalysis of his subordinates: Raphael, Marshall from Paw Patrol, or Tommy from Rugrats, just to name a few. He has no time to look for a job!


Sam and I are too busy lobbying and stumping around the metro area to find jobs. He’s a rebellious cabinet member, too—exhausting. He likes to taunt death and paralysis by jumping from the tallest slide, refusing to hold my hand in parking lots and playing with Nate’s toys while he’s at school. I like to govern with an efficient agenda, maintain a hygienic home, and have down time after lunch. Sam, suddenly opposed to the principle of naps, prefers to rearrange the toys in Nate’s room and flush the toilet over and over again. My executive order for mandatory naps has been ignored! Our daily cabinet meetings last most of the afternoon and are often heated. No time to job-hunt.


Next, raising the minimum wage and equal pay for stay-at-home-moms. Tighe makes a salary. I would like someone to match that salary for me. [Pause for extended applause and bi-partisan standing ovation.]


Education. Nate and Sam should be able to access the education system they deserve! Pre-K for all, especially Nate! We need more marshmallow-and-pretzel construction of snowmen!


I propose that Sam also be enrolled in school—perhaps a boarding school, from which he’s allowed to send home a letter and an updated photo, maybe once a month or so. We need to recruit and incentivize the best teachers—perhaps with something more than a holiday gift card and a package of dark chocolates.


The world faces a migrant refugee crisis. Cold weather is plaguing our region! Call it winter, call it climate change, but the fact is that it’s causing millions to flee their homes. Squirrels, chipmunks, mice, and dead birds, have all been found near and inside of our house!


Our immigration system is a broken system! These refugees, whether they be Nate and Sam’s toddler friends from school or rogue dust bunnies from under the dining room chairs, must be properly vetted and screened.


In foreign affairs, we have to find a way to keep our house safe without isolating ourselves, without becoming the neighborhood’s police, and without nation-building. Our military, Wally, is busy protecting our borders and gathering intelligence from his post in front of the bay window. Joggers, other dogs, and those blasted good-for-nothing cats will be hit with drone strikes. Nate and Sam, our boots on the ground, continue to train as ninjas, fighting the Joker and Darth Vader, and occasionally, a nefarious tot on the playground—those tiny future Kim Jung-Un’s of the world.


But I must warn you, my fellow Urinalites: partisanship will tear us apart! It’s one of the few regrets of my motherhood — that the rancor and suspicion between the two brothers has gotten worse instead of better. They seem to unite only when they oppose my administration—running and hiding in the back of the car when it’s 8 degrees outside and I’m trying to buckle them into their car seats. Or a sobbing heap on the floor in the checkout aisle because I confiscated a contraband Reese’s which he had molded into a ball. I have no doubt a mother with the gifts of Lincoln or Roosevelt might have better bridged the divide. We have to work together. I believe in change because I believe in natural maturation and growth. And bribes. Lots of bribes.


God bless the Urinal. And God bless you!