Another example of being southern in the north:
Plow man: Hello?
Me: Yes sir, my friend Mary O'Brian gave me your phone number I'd like you to plow my driveway.
Plow man: Who? The O'Connells?
Me: No, the O'Brians-they said you were reasonable.
Plow man: OK, I'll come give you an estimate.
Me: Are you going to bring the shovel thing?
Plow man: You mean my truck? You need it done now?
Me: Yes
Plow man: Nobody plowed from the last snow?
Me: No, I just stayed home until it melted.
(LONG PAUSE)
Plow man: OK, but normally you set it up with an estimate and a contract for the winter.
Me: You mean it's going to snow again?
(LONG PAUSE)
Plow man: Are you new to the area?
Me: Moved from North Carolina, yes.
Plow man: Normally, people prefer me to come if we get three inches or more.
Me: Three inches? You get that much?
(ANOTHER LONG PAUSE)
Plow man: I'll bring my "snow stuff" and plow you out, then I will tell you how much it is and if you are happy I will do it when you call, or we can agree to a contract.
Me: OK, thank you sir.
Plow man: (LAUGHING) You are welcome, "Ma'am."
Well, I can get out of my driveway now.....
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Don't Break the Ice
Santa always brings my kids a board game. Actually, I always try to have Santa bring a couple of things they can share. It just drives me crazy when I hear them playing nicely and then less than a minute later I hear someone scream, “Don’t touch it, it’s mine.” Last time I checked not a one of them paid for anything. Anyway, they do get their own special gifts, but they get lots of things that belong to us as a family. This year’s game was “Don’t Break the Ice.”
It is simple enough. You set up all the plastic ice cubes, put the polar bear on, and then the players take turns chipping away at the cubes with the plastic mallets until the polar bear falls. No reading required and hours of fun.
It takes longer to set up the ice cubes than it does to play the game. You have to shove them in so that they will stay up and you have to strategically place the big ice cube somewhere on the board for the polar bear. I have pinched my finger a couple of times doing something that should be very simple. Thank goodness the company had enough sense to add extra ice cubes for the families like mine, with a baby that thinks he is getting away with something by running off with a cube. Once the cubes are in their places and the polar bear is ready, you can start your family bonding time.
I have drowned so many polar bears I think Al Gore is going to take me off his mailing list. My kids don’t seem to get bored whacking away at the ice cubes. Kenneth asked me if maybe they would make a version with a ship that hits an iceberg. Ha ha, not funny. But I am impressed that he listens when I read him Magic Tree House adventures.
The goal is to stare at the cubes and figure out which ones you should not hit to keep the polar bear up. There is a lot of strategy involved; one could say that this game is pre-chess. My kids strategize nothing. They pound until an entire row falls off. BUT-they are wonderful about taking turns with the random polar bear attacking.
My son asked me a couple of weeks before Christmas why Santa picked the North Pole for his factory. When I asked him to explain, he said that belugas and penguins couldn’t possibly enjoy a factory in their environment. He also said that it had to be cold inside the factory, or the heat bill was high. Now he is convinced that Santa has huge mallets around to break the ice before a polar bear comes in to steal toys. I love it.
This was a great game, from my crazy family to yours…
It is simple enough. You set up all the plastic ice cubes, put the polar bear on, and then the players take turns chipping away at the cubes with the plastic mallets until the polar bear falls. No reading required and hours of fun.
It takes longer to set up the ice cubes than it does to play the game. You have to shove them in so that they will stay up and you have to strategically place the big ice cube somewhere on the board for the polar bear. I have pinched my finger a couple of times doing something that should be very simple. Thank goodness the company had enough sense to add extra ice cubes for the families like mine, with a baby that thinks he is getting away with something by running off with a cube. Once the cubes are in their places and the polar bear is ready, you can start your family bonding time.
I have drowned so many polar bears I think Al Gore is going to take me off his mailing list. My kids don’t seem to get bored whacking away at the ice cubes. Kenneth asked me if maybe they would make a version with a ship that hits an iceberg. Ha ha, not funny. But I am impressed that he listens when I read him Magic Tree House adventures.
The goal is to stare at the cubes and figure out which ones you should not hit to keep the polar bear up. There is a lot of strategy involved; one could say that this game is pre-chess. My kids strategize nothing. They pound until an entire row falls off. BUT-they are wonderful about taking turns with the random polar bear attacking.
My son asked me a couple of weeks before Christmas why Santa picked the North Pole for his factory. When I asked him to explain, he said that belugas and penguins couldn’t possibly enjoy a factory in their environment. He also said that it had to be cold inside the factory, or the heat bill was high. Now he is convinced that Santa has huge mallets around to break the ice before a polar bear comes in to steal toys. I love it.
This was a great game, from my crazy family to yours…
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Page-a-Day
I never do my Christmas shopping a day before the 22nd of December. I am a teacher and teachers, including the despicable Arthur Mitchell on Dexter, design their personal lives around their time off. So my Christmas planning and shopping happens when I am off for the winter break.
Making lists and shopping for people that you only see once a year is tough. Suffice it to say that there must be ways to let all of your random little aunts, uncles, and cousins know that you love them without buying them something that they really don't need or want. I'm nervous about giving an example, because what if that one girl in Idaho who loves my blog is lost to me forever because I said no one wants koosh balls when they are over thirty, and that is what she gave everyone in her book club? Better stay clear of judgments. This year, I gave calendars.
I love calendars. Our society loves calendars. We need to write it down. When I taught in brick and mortar schools I made sure my students wrote their work down in the agenda books they were given for free with our tax dollars. I loved my leather day planner my future father in law gave me for student teaching. I also had a dry erase calendar that I kept on the fridge to keep track of everything for home, but that has been replaced, I must confess, with the Google calendar. I am really getting the hang of the Google calendar. I had the planner, but I also had a HUGE desk calendar I kept duh, on my desk. Now it is all on my Google one, and it can pop up on my main page, and repeat itself, and be copied to my husband's calendar. The joy of that is that if the kids have dentist appointments, Kevin will see it and know that everyone might be a wee bit crankier than usual when he gets home, myself included.
Even before the engagement calendars you could buy at Hallmark or the planners you could get at Staples, The Aztecs and other societies had their own calendars. The Aztec calendar is way too confusing to me. I have seen it at the museum in Mexico City and I don't get it. I don't think Aztec kids were in danger of being late to piano practice. Which calendar did God tell us was the official one? I missed his memo....
Special education moms need those calendars. One of my favorite movies growing up was Better Off Dead. There was one scene when John Cusak's character didn't do his homework, but instead of writing it down in a calendar to keep track of his life with, he pulled out a sheet of notebook paper that had gum on it that said, "Do homework." I know people like that, but it wouldn't have worked for me. At the height of our early intervention, I had to keep track of speech, PT, OT, early intervention preschool, play dates, and gymnastics. Let's not forget doctors appointments. This was when I just had one child. Now I also have to keep track of her schedule at school because she will only wear pants on P.E. day, oh yeah, and my boys have a life too. Grrrr.
Since I live for my calendar, I wanted to share my love of it this Christmas. Now that Google and other online calendars are taking off, I decided to focus on the Page-a-Day calendar. Those of us who like those calendars live to wake up in the morning, brew the coffee, and pull that paper to see what chuckle or tid-bit of information we will receive for that day. I have had some great Page-a-Day calendars over the years: I had one of Vincent Van Gogh paintings, and I swear I didn't know he was a red head like myself before then. I had a movie of the day calendar, and that gave me tons of ideas for everything from Rear Window to Citizen Ruth. I kept the Spanish word of the day in my classroom and the kids and I would flip together.
The king of all Page-a-Day calendars: The Far Side. I don't think you can top some of the things that man came up with. Everyone has a favorite. I guess mine would have to be the dolphins speaking Spanish and the marine biologists couldn't crack the code. Either that or the gifted kid pushing on the pull door. How I miss Gary Larson.
Winner of the best Page-a-Day day, is September 12, 2001. (This story is not a lie.) My cousin Matty gave me a Page-a-Day Simpsons Calendar. I LOVED that calendar. When I opened it on Christmas Eve of 2000 I jumped up and down and did the happy dance around the room. It was like he had given me diamonds. Then on September 12, 2001, I gratefully took September 11th off and there was Bart Simpson saying "I never thought it was humanly possible, but this both sucks and blows." That was the day I decided that there was power in a Page-a-Day calendar and that The Simpsons were pure genius. Well said Bart, well said.
So, when you don't know what to give-give a calendar. You can make them if you want to get creative-I am wondering how I could create "Page a Page-a-Day." I'm afraid that would be too much. I can't wait for January first, because that is when I get my first "The Office" quote. Dunder Mifflin once a day? 2010 keeps looking better and better.
Making lists and shopping for people that you only see once a year is tough. Suffice it to say that there must be ways to let all of your random little aunts, uncles, and cousins know that you love them without buying them something that they really don't need or want. I'm nervous about giving an example, because what if that one girl in Idaho who loves my blog is lost to me forever because I said no one wants koosh balls when they are over thirty, and that is what she gave everyone in her book club? Better stay clear of judgments. This year, I gave calendars.
I love calendars. Our society loves calendars. We need to write it down. When I taught in brick and mortar schools I made sure my students wrote their work down in the agenda books they were given for free with our tax dollars. I loved my leather day planner my future father in law gave me for student teaching. I also had a dry erase calendar that I kept on the fridge to keep track of everything for home, but that has been replaced, I must confess, with the Google calendar. I am really getting the hang of the Google calendar. I had the planner, but I also had a HUGE desk calendar I kept duh, on my desk. Now it is all on my Google one, and it can pop up on my main page, and repeat itself, and be copied to my husband's calendar. The joy of that is that if the kids have dentist appointments, Kevin will see it and know that everyone might be a wee bit crankier than usual when he gets home, myself included.
Even before the engagement calendars you could buy at Hallmark or the planners you could get at Staples, The Aztecs and other societies had their own calendars. The Aztec calendar is way too confusing to me. I have seen it at the museum in Mexico City and I don't get it. I don't think Aztec kids were in danger of being late to piano practice. Which calendar did God tell us was the official one? I missed his memo....
Special education moms need those calendars. One of my favorite movies growing up was Better Off Dead. There was one scene when John Cusak's character didn't do his homework, but instead of writing it down in a calendar to keep track of his life with, he pulled out a sheet of notebook paper that had gum on it that said, "Do homework." I know people like that, but it wouldn't have worked for me. At the height of our early intervention, I had to keep track of speech, PT, OT, early intervention preschool, play dates, and gymnastics. Let's not forget doctors appointments. This was when I just had one child. Now I also have to keep track of her schedule at school because she will only wear pants on P.E. day, oh yeah, and my boys have a life too. Grrrr.
Since I live for my calendar, I wanted to share my love of it this Christmas. Now that Google and other online calendars are taking off, I decided to focus on the Page-a-Day calendar. Those of us who like those calendars live to wake up in the morning, brew the coffee, and pull that paper to see what chuckle or tid-bit of information we will receive for that day. I have had some great Page-a-Day calendars over the years: I had one of Vincent Van Gogh paintings, and I swear I didn't know he was a red head like myself before then. I had a movie of the day calendar, and that gave me tons of ideas for everything from Rear Window to Citizen Ruth. I kept the Spanish word of the day in my classroom and the kids and I would flip together.
The king of all Page-a-Day calendars: The Far Side. I don't think you can top some of the things that man came up with. Everyone has a favorite. I guess mine would have to be the dolphins speaking Spanish and the marine biologists couldn't crack the code. Either that or the gifted kid pushing on the pull door. How I miss Gary Larson.
Winner of the best Page-a-Day day, is September 12, 2001. (This story is not a lie.) My cousin Matty gave me a Page-a-Day Simpsons Calendar. I LOVED that calendar. When I opened it on Christmas Eve of 2000 I jumped up and down and did the happy dance around the room. It was like he had given me diamonds. Then on September 12, 2001, I gratefully took September 11th off and there was Bart Simpson saying "I never thought it was humanly possible, but this both sucks and blows." That was the day I decided that there was power in a Page-a-Day calendar and that The Simpsons were pure genius. Well said Bart, well said.
So, when you don't know what to give-give a calendar. You can make them if you want to get creative-I am wondering how I could create "Page a Page-a-Day." I'm afraid that would be too much. I can't wait for January first, because that is when I get my first "The Office" quote. Dunder Mifflin once a day? 2010 keeps looking better and better.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
A Few Tips from the Quack
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The Sugar Plum Fairy, The Mouse King, and the Nutcracker. Can you tell which is which?
Why would I give advice? I shouldn't-but here it is. A few things and then I will be back after Christmas. I have family to visit and Sookie books to read. But don't worry, I have three great posts ready to go when I am done celebrating and reconnecting with friends and family.
Here is my Christmas present to mothers crazy enough to do what I say:
1) When driving a long drive with kids, made extra long by the weather, go to the library for DVD and CD rentals. At three am, my kids were watching Bill Nye The Science Guy, Let's Learn French, and listening to The Magic Tree House books on CD. It was preschool in the car! Of course I also had Shrek and Barney. And fill up the car with gas every time you stop, just in case you sit in Richmond for three hours and your BFF cusses you out for trying.
2) Art paper can cost up to ten dollars a pack. 500 sheets of copy paper is 2.50. Guess what my kids color and water color on?
3) Don't forget your stockings if they mean something to you, but the good that came out of it is we are going to make special ones with friends and put out shoes for St. Nicholas.
4) If your son has issues with picking his nose, you can buy him a pack of kleenex and tell him they are from Spiderman.
5) You can make "Nutcracker" cupcakes with fiber cereal, chocolate chips, and mixed nuts. (assuming no allergies). Basically, whatever you happen to have in the pantry.
Happy Holidays! See you next week.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
The Grocery Store Diaries 7
You have your hands full: Two!
Bless your heart: One! I know it! In the north!
Damage Control: Lowell threw his passy once and Kenneth tried to climb out without help, but fortunately, he didn't hurt himself, the groceries, or his baby brother.
Dirty looks: One woman who must not have any tolerance for children, especially ones who decide to dance in the aisle.
My actual trip was all right, all things considered. Therefore, I am hijacking my own post:
I love cable television shows. I really, really, love cable shows. My husband and I started this during the graduate school years, when we could stay up all night on weekends watching Sopranos episodes from Blockbuster while other twenty somethings were out getting trashed. The only non-cable show I enjoy right now is the Office. I have heard great things about many programs, but there is just something a little better about the quality of writing in a cable show. Who knows exactly why?
Sunday night, Showtime aired their season finale of Dexter. I am not going into details on that show, because people love or hate it. I will say that John Lithgow had a one season role and he will be missed and never forgotten. As a tribute to him and a way to say "Thank you" for a wonderful season of Dexter, I am linking the grocery store scene from Terms of Endearment for everyone's viewing pleasure. Take a moment to watch and then keep reading, but the bad language was not edited from the clip.
I am not a big Terms of Endearment fan. Deborah Winger and Shirley Maclaine drive me crazy with their obnoxious fighting. The husband makes professors look like scum. Jack Nicholson will be Jack Nicholson. I am dumbfounded as to how Deborah's character could stay at home with three kids while her husband was still working on the PHD, but maybe that was just Reaganomics. Someone should explain it to me later.
As much as I can not stand that movie, I love that scene. It's a grocery store diary! I have never run out of money at a grocery store, but I always have this fear I'll open my purse and my wallet will be sitting on the kitchen counter. I have snapped at my children in public. Usually it involves keeping one of them from doing something dangerous or finally deciding I am not buying three boxes of cheerios just so that they can each have their own. I have given in and bought junk food that I shouldn't have. I'm sure that people have changed check out aisles or rolled their eyes when they have seen us coming. There is only so much crying, begging, and dragging of boxes that childless people should have to take. Deborah Winger's Emma is taking criticism not only from the annoyed cashier, but her older son is old enough to know what is going on. How much worse could it get? Don't answer that.
Then in the middle of her humiliation, John Lithgow comes out of nowhere to save the day (and help her get even with her idiot husband later, but that isn't the point). The right people fairy came in the form of John Lithgow-and he let the cashier have it with a little more control. Nice.
This grocery store diary is dedicated to John Lithgow as Sam from Terms of Endearment, because to give him a Dexter post would be way too morbid for my readership. I hope that all moms out there who have a bad grocery store day have a "Sam" to help them out.
Keep up the good work Mr. Lithgow. Be it saving the day in the grocery store, preaching the gospel to teenagers that just want to have a prom, or killing somebody's wife in a bath tub, you do it well!!!
Bless your heart: One! I know it! In the north!
Damage Control: Lowell threw his passy once and Kenneth tried to climb out without help, but fortunately, he didn't hurt himself, the groceries, or his baby brother.
Dirty looks: One woman who must not have any tolerance for children, especially ones who decide to dance in the aisle.
My actual trip was all right, all things considered. Therefore, I am hijacking my own post:
I love cable television shows. I really, really, love cable shows. My husband and I started this during the graduate school years, when we could stay up all night on weekends watching Sopranos episodes from Blockbuster while other twenty somethings were out getting trashed. The only non-cable show I enjoy right now is the Office. I have heard great things about many programs, but there is just something a little better about the quality of writing in a cable show. Who knows exactly why?
Sunday night, Showtime aired their season finale of Dexter. I am not going into details on that show, because people love or hate it. I will say that John Lithgow had a one season role and he will be missed and never forgotten. As a tribute to him and a way to say "Thank you" for a wonderful season of Dexter, I am linking the grocery store scene from Terms of Endearment for everyone's viewing pleasure. Take a moment to watch and then keep reading, but the bad language was not edited from the clip.
I am not a big Terms of Endearment fan. Deborah Winger and Shirley Maclaine drive me crazy with their obnoxious fighting. The husband makes professors look like scum. Jack Nicholson will be Jack Nicholson. I am dumbfounded as to how Deborah's character could stay at home with three kids while her husband was still working on the PHD, but maybe that was just Reaganomics. Someone should explain it to me later.
As much as I can not stand that movie, I love that scene. It's a grocery store diary! I have never run out of money at a grocery store, but I always have this fear I'll open my purse and my wallet will be sitting on the kitchen counter. I have snapped at my children in public. Usually it involves keeping one of them from doing something dangerous or finally deciding I am not buying three boxes of cheerios just so that they can each have their own. I have given in and bought junk food that I shouldn't have. I'm sure that people have changed check out aisles or rolled their eyes when they have seen us coming. There is only so much crying, begging, and dragging of boxes that childless people should have to take. Deborah Winger's Emma is taking criticism not only from the annoyed cashier, but her older son is old enough to know what is going on. How much worse could it get? Don't answer that.
Then in the middle of her humiliation, John Lithgow comes out of nowhere to save the day (and help her get even with her idiot husband later, but that isn't the point). The right people fairy came in the form of John Lithgow-and he let the cashier have it with a little more control. Nice.
This grocery store diary is dedicated to John Lithgow as Sam from Terms of Endearment, because to give him a Dexter post would be way too morbid for my readership. I hope that all moms out there who have a bad grocery store day have a "Sam" to help them out.
Keep up the good work Mr. Lithgow. Be it saving the day in the grocery store, preaching the gospel to teenagers that just want to have a prom, or killing somebody's wife in a bath tub, you do it well!!!
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
My Advent
It’s that time of year, when your mailbox is filled with things other than bills and catalogues. You get Christmas cards of Santa, Nativity scenes, and pictures of people you know are happy or maybe not, but they are living day to day like all of us. I haven’t been able to get a picture of the three of mine together for the life of me, so I quit trying. But no worries, I’ll always have something to write.
We Episcopalians are big into Advent. We have Advent calendars and Advent wreaths. When I was growing up, my priest did the same Advent service every year where a child had to ask him why the candles were lit. I can tell you (hope, peace, joy, love)-I am an excellent Episcopalian. What is important here is that Advent means to wait. Before I go any further with this, let me just say that you don’t have to be a Christian to wait for anything, and I always try to go out of my way to include anyone in this blog. For example, if you are a Democrat you waited a long time for Obama and if you are a Republican you are waiting for him to be gone. I don’t care if you breast feed or give your baby formula, just don’t starve your kid. So give me a minute with Advent and then I’ll go back to South Park’s non-offensive Christmas special. (But I don’t think I’ll be so lucky that Philip Glass will do the music). Advent is the four Sundays before Christmas. During this time, we wait for the 25th and the birth of a baby in Bethlehem.
Part of me feels like my life has been one very long Advent. Some waiting is good, like when you are pregnant for that first time, or the second or God help you crazy people like me, the third time. Waiting for a Harry Potter book was always exciting. I remember thinking my husband would never finish graduate school, but that waiting ended nine years ago. Now I’m waiting to feel like a Yankee. Nope, not going to happen.
Sometimes waiting can be painful. Nothing is worse than being in a playgroup or mommy and me class and all the babies sit up, and yours doesn’t. Then the babies crawl, and yours doesn’t. Then they walk, and still she doesn’t. Then all the babies six months younger start to walk, and you are about to screw Advent. Then one day, you put your child down on the floor, and she walks across the room. Yes, she wobbled. Yes, she was twenty months old. Yes, her gait was off and she was no where near normal, but Advent was over.
There will always be Advent. And it’s what you do during Advent that makes it different from generic waiting. No, she wasn’t walking, but I was helping. We were pushing toys around the house and backyard. We were going to doctors for x-rays. We went to Stride Rite for any kind of shoe I thought might work magic. Who knows why-but Christmas came when it did.
This year has had an Advent season or two. Kenneth decided that just because he could use the potty didn’t mean he was going to use it. Lowell doesn’t always understand the third child doesn’t have the luxuries of the first, and he isn’t laid back in the least. Frances started Kindergarten-Kindergarten! My biggest Advent of all was getting her ready for that. SHE LOVES IT. I have seen little miracles during this time of waiting.
The beautiful thing about Advent is that Christmas is coming. And it does. So I hope you have a wonderful holiday season, however you are waiting.
And most importantly….
Now that I have made everyone vomit, I’ll go back to laughter next week.
We Episcopalians are big into Advent. We have Advent calendars and Advent wreaths. When I was growing up, my priest did the same Advent service every year where a child had to ask him why the candles were lit. I can tell you (hope, peace, joy, love)-I am an excellent Episcopalian. What is important here is that Advent means to wait. Before I go any further with this, let me just say that you don’t have to be a Christian to wait for anything, and I always try to go out of my way to include anyone in this blog. For example, if you are a Democrat you waited a long time for Obama and if you are a Republican you are waiting for him to be gone. I don’t care if you breast feed or give your baby formula, just don’t starve your kid. So give me a minute with Advent and then I’ll go back to South Park’s non-offensive Christmas special. (But I don’t think I’ll be so lucky that Philip Glass will do the music). Advent is the four Sundays before Christmas. During this time, we wait for the 25th and the birth of a baby in Bethlehem.
Part of me feels like my life has been one very long Advent. Some waiting is good, like when you are pregnant for that first time, or the second or God help you crazy people like me, the third time. Waiting for a Harry Potter book was always exciting. I remember thinking my husband would never finish graduate school, but that waiting ended nine years ago. Now I’m waiting to feel like a Yankee. Nope, not going to happen.
Sometimes waiting can be painful. Nothing is worse than being in a playgroup or mommy and me class and all the babies sit up, and yours doesn’t. Then the babies crawl, and yours doesn’t. Then they walk, and still she doesn’t. Then all the babies six months younger start to walk, and you are about to screw Advent. Then one day, you put your child down on the floor, and she walks across the room. Yes, she wobbled. Yes, she was twenty months old. Yes, her gait was off and she was no where near normal, but Advent was over.
There will always be Advent. And it’s what you do during Advent that makes it different from generic waiting. No, she wasn’t walking, but I was helping. We were pushing toys around the house and backyard. We were going to doctors for x-rays. We went to Stride Rite for any kind of shoe I thought might work magic. Who knows why-but Christmas came when it did.
This year has had an Advent season or two. Kenneth decided that just because he could use the potty didn’t mean he was going to use it. Lowell doesn’t always understand the third child doesn’t have the luxuries of the first, and he isn’t laid back in the least. Frances started Kindergarten-Kindergarten! My biggest Advent of all was getting her ready for that. SHE LOVES IT. I have seen little miracles during this time of waiting.
The beautiful thing about Advent is that Christmas is coming. And it does. So I hope you have a wonderful holiday season, however you are waiting.
And most importantly….
Now that I have made everyone vomit, I’ll go back to laughter next week.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
The Grocery Store Diaries 6
Dirty Looks: three, all in the parking lot on the way home.
"You've got your hands full": none that I heard
Damage Control: Well, the baby discovered that tic tacs shake better than maracas....
The Grocery store is the ultimate fast food restaurant for little people. I know that you aren't supposed to grocery shop hungry. I know that furthermore, you should not take hungry children to a grocery store. And I don't, at least I don't think I do. I have also learned something from Bill Nye and Sid the Science Kid. Sharks are always hungry, and so are my children.
The baby starts screaming the minute bananas hit the cart. He points and cries and wants to eat one of his favorite snacks. I have dealt with this before with a yogurt cup. He got that open and I didn't fight him, but I didn't want to open a banana in the middle of the store. So I let him cry. Sort of.
The next thing I know, a box of cookies has mysteriously been opened and the boys are munching happily and quietly. My daughter is skipping beside me eating grapes out of the bag. I have to stop her because those are going to be weighed, it isn't like a package of cookies with a ISBN bar to scan.
THEN they start asking what they can eat on the car ride home.
"Let's open the chips in the car."
"No, I want a pop sicle on the way home."
"How about a banana then, mom?"
"Is there a way we can make the macaroni and cheese in the car?"
OK, enough. If I give in to the three of them, by the time we get home we will have to turn around and go back to the store. There won't be anything left in the bags to unload. So I tell them no.
My three angels smiled at me and said, "OK mom, you are right. It isn't nutritious, it will spoil our dinner, and then if we wait until we are home to eat, Daddy won't have to vacuum all the crumbs out of the backseat on Saturday morning when he could be relaxing."
Who just believed that?
They scream and cry all the way to the car because the Pilot is not an a la carte cafeteria. People think I'm hurting my children.
If anyone ever wondered why I drink coffee all morning and diet coke all afternoon, now you know!
"You've got your hands full": none that I heard
Damage Control: Well, the baby discovered that tic tacs shake better than maracas....
The Grocery store is the ultimate fast food restaurant for little people. I know that you aren't supposed to grocery shop hungry. I know that furthermore, you should not take hungry children to a grocery store. And I don't, at least I don't think I do. I have also learned something from Bill Nye and Sid the Science Kid. Sharks are always hungry, and so are my children.
The baby starts screaming the minute bananas hit the cart. He points and cries and wants to eat one of his favorite snacks. I have dealt with this before with a yogurt cup. He got that open and I didn't fight him, but I didn't want to open a banana in the middle of the store. So I let him cry. Sort of.
The next thing I know, a box of cookies has mysteriously been opened and the boys are munching happily and quietly. My daughter is skipping beside me eating grapes out of the bag. I have to stop her because those are going to be weighed, it isn't like a package of cookies with a ISBN bar to scan.
THEN they start asking what they can eat on the car ride home.
"Let's open the chips in the car."
"No, I want a pop sicle on the way home."
"How about a banana then, mom?"
"Is there a way we can make the macaroni and cheese in the car?"
OK, enough. If I give in to the three of them, by the time we get home we will have to turn around and go back to the store. There won't be anything left in the bags to unload. So I tell them no.
My three angels smiled at me and said, "OK mom, you are right. It isn't nutritious, it will spoil our dinner, and then if we wait until we are home to eat, Daddy won't have to vacuum all the crumbs out of the backseat on Saturday morning when he could be relaxing."
Who just believed that?
They scream and cry all the way to the car because the Pilot is not an a la carte cafeteria. People think I'm hurting my children.
If anyone ever wondered why I drink coffee all morning and diet coke all afternoon, now you know!
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