I was at the park the other day with the kids, sweating in the 90 degree heat of the afternoon
(can they not leave even ONE tree when they create these new neighborhoods????), when another family joined us. They were a Muslim family. I know this because of the woman's attire: black head covering, long sleeve shirt with a vest over the top, and jeans. Her husband was wearing a t-shirt and soccer shorts. The kids were also wearing summer clothing. At first, the "I am woman, hear me roar!" side of me got pretty annoyed at seeing a fellow mother dressed in those suffocating clothes, chasing her two young toddlers around the park while her husband went over to a soccer field and kicked a ball around. (The Dad not helping out with the kids part would have annoyed me no matter what the race/religion.)
But then I remembered that they don't share my cultural and religious beliefs, and that I shouldn't judge them. I actually think people of Muslim faith are probably onto something regarding modesty. I wouldn't go as far as they do to cover up, but I understand the intent. As I see women in public places like the grocery store, I am often ASTONISHED at the things they will wear. (Or, more to the point, fail to wear.) Do we really need to see all that cleavage, or upper thigh cellulite, super-tightness that reveals all, or just general skin? And more often than not, these women are already married with kids, so it's not like they're trying to snag a man. I say, "Save it for the bedroom, sister!"
Anyway, off the soapbox and back to the playground.
I made an effort to talk with the Muslim mom. She seemed shy and nervous around me, but was nice and smiled a lot. Her English wasn't great, but we talked a bit and compared our kids' ages and such. Her little boy looked to be about Brother's age and they shared a soccer ball for a little while quite sweetly. And I remembered an old movie where a woman says something to the effect that if all the mothers of the world could just get together and talk, there would be no war. In the movie, the guests at the dinner party meet this statement with derision, but I think it's true. Standing there in my shorts and t-shirt, I am sure I looked as ridiculously dressed to her as she did to me. But we found some common ground there at the park, smiling at each other over the tops of our children's heads.
I did have to secretly laugh at the patch on her jeans, though. In large letters it said, "TOO SEXY." It seems to me that such a message stamped on the rear of your jeans kinds of defeats the purpose of all the oppresive layers of clothing. But just maybe my fellow mom isn't quite as oppressed as she seemed.
Showing posts with label daily life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label daily life. Show all posts
Monday, May 19, 2008
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Mama got a new pair of shoes...
... but was so distracted while loading the car that she forgot to take them off Sister's feet and put them on her own, thus accidentally wearing old-lady clodhoppers to her graduate-class teaching gig instead of the stylish wedge sandals. Sheesh.Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Why the Bachelor will never work
So last night I got SUCKED into watching The Bachelor on TV. The DH likes to fall asleep to tv and he's had it on a few times so as a result I'm familiar with the show (even though I try to tune it out. I try so hard! But when women are biting chunks out of soda cans with their teeth to get the Bachelor's attention it's darn HARD to turn away!!!) So when DH said, "Oh, come on! You know you want to see who he picks!" I was like, "Drat you!!! I HATE this show!!" And then I stayed up until 11pm watching it while he snored next to me.
But I just have to say, first of all, I think it is one of the stupidest reality tv shows they've come up with- and that's a big insult due to the sheer volume of HORRID reality tv programming. The concept of having one hunky bachelor and 20+beautiful women competing for him with the idea that he'll meet "Mrs. Right" and they'll get married and have babies is pure rubbish. It never works. It never will.
That is not how men operate.
Men are hunters. They like the chase. This is not a secret- it's one of those universal truths that has existed since the beginning of time. As a rule, men do not like for women to pursue them. Flirting? Yes. Come hither glances? Yes. Returned phone calls? Sure. But doing outlandish things to get attention (singing opera, pole dancing, biting into cans (I can't get over that one!)- and beggaring oneself with every phrase under the sun that means "pick me!!!"- not what men want. I'm rather confident of this, having been around a few times on the dating carousel myself.
So why do the guys do it? Because just as much as I've never known a guy who wanted to marry a forward woman who was trying to run him to ground, I've also never met one who wouldn't want to be surrounded by dozens of beautiful women who all WANT HIM. I mean, really- what red-blooded man doesn't want that? It's a dream come true.
Of course, after he's lived in a fantasy world of intricately planned over-the-top dates and weekends in Barbados, he may think he's made a match. And then they have this final (and ridiculous) rose ceremony where the Bachelor gets on one knee (in front of cameras, of course) and gives a pretty speech and tells his bachelorette how he's fallen head over heels, and won't she marry him? Cue the doves and flower petals.
And then, a few months later, we read in People magazine that they aren't together anymore- it "didn't work out."
REALLY? How SHOCKING!
I guess once the romantic villas and lavish dates and tv cameras go away, these two people finally realize that they really don't know each other at all. He doesn't know she can't cook. She doesn't know what a whiny sick patient he'll be. He doesn't know how to reconcile their different goals for the future. She doesn't know how to reconcile their religious beliefs. He doesn't know that she has a lot of childhood baggage that plays into some major family drama. She doesn't know that his childhood dream is to move to the woods and build a cabin. He doesn't know that she likes to get up and run first thing in the morning. She doesn't know that he likes to sleep in until noon and exercise in the evening. He doesn't know that Jim Carrey impressions can always make her laugh. She doesn't know that letting him have 10 minutes with the paper when he gets home from work makes all the difference.
They don't know anything. Their relationship is a castle of sand to be crushed by the first big wave because it's imaginary. There is nothing real about it, aside from a sexual attraction and maybe some basic friendship/camaraderie.
And still I watch.
So what I'm wondering is who is stupider- them or me?
But I just have to say, first of all, I think it is one of the stupidest reality tv shows they've come up with- and that's a big insult due to the sheer volume of HORRID reality tv programming. The concept of having one hunky bachelor and 20+beautiful women competing for him with the idea that he'll meet "Mrs. Right" and they'll get married and have babies is pure rubbish. It never works. It never will.
That is not how men operate.
Men are hunters. They like the chase. This is not a secret- it's one of those universal truths that has existed since the beginning of time. As a rule, men do not like for women to pursue them. Flirting? Yes. Come hither glances? Yes. Returned phone calls? Sure. But doing outlandish things to get attention (singing opera, pole dancing, biting into cans (I can't get over that one!)- and beggaring oneself with every phrase under the sun that means "pick me!!!"- not what men want. I'm rather confident of this, having been around a few times on the dating carousel myself.
So why do the guys do it? Because just as much as I've never known a guy who wanted to marry a forward woman who was trying to run him to ground, I've also never met one who wouldn't want to be surrounded by dozens of beautiful women who all WANT HIM. I mean, really- what red-blooded man doesn't want that? It's a dream come true.
Of course, after he's lived in a fantasy world of intricately planned over-the-top dates and weekends in Barbados, he may think he's made a match. And then they have this final (and ridiculous) rose ceremony where the Bachelor gets on one knee (in front of cameras, of course) and gives a pretty speech and tells his bachelorette how he's fallen head over heels, and won't she marry him? Cue the doves and flower petals.
And then, a few months later, we read in People magazine that they aren't together anymore- it "didn't work out."
REALLY? How SHOCKING!
I guess once the romantic villas and lavish dates and tv cameras go away, these two people finally realize that they really don't know each other at all. He doesn't know she can't cook. She doesn't know what a whiny sick patient he'll be. He doesn't know how to reconcile their different goals for the future. She doesn't know how to reconcile their religious beliefs. He doesn't know that she has a lot of childhood baggage that plays into some major family drama. She doesn't know that his childhood dream is to move to the woods and build a cabin. He doesn't know that she likes to get up and run first thing in the morning. She doesn't know that he likes to sleep in until noon and exercise in the evening. He doesn't know that Jim Carrey impressions can always make her laugh. She doesn't know that letting him have 10 minutes with the paper when he gets home from work makes all the difference.
They don't know anything. Their relationship is a castle of sand to be crushed by the first big wave because it's imaginary. There is nothing real about it, aside from a sexual attraction and maybe some basic friendship/camaraderie.
And still I watch.
So what I'm wondering is who is stupider- them or me?
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Inez got it right.
My grandmother, Mary, is one of 7 children. She was born and raised on a farm in the Carolina mountains. Her mother, Inez, like most women of her generation, was responsible for the household - washing, sewing, mending, cooking, cleaning, etc.- with NO modern conveniences. They had an outhouse. Inez put three hot (and reportedly delicious) meals on the table each day. (They never ate at a restaurant as there weren't any in the tiny town where they lived.) She even performed chores that don't appear on my radar, like wringing the necks of chickens, plucking their feathers, and lots of other GROSS things like that. On top of being a good home-maker, my great-grandmother is remembered as a fun-loving, sweet and kind person who loved to laugh.
Lately, I have been thinking about her more and more.
I have 2 kids (as opposed to 7 !), a dishwasher, plumbing, washing machine and dryer, Target, Wal-Mart, a variety of take-out restaurants nearby, a car, paper plates, a husband who helps out around the house (usually), and no need to ever lay one stitch in a piece of fabric unless I want to do so. And yet, at the end of many days, I feel completely whipped by this life. Spent. Overwhelmed.
And then, thinking about Inez, I feel SILLY.
Very silly.
I am sure that my lifestyle would look like the lap of luxury to her. But I can't bury this sneaking suspicion that somehow, her life had a different quality. Something less complex- the original "simple life." I think back then people had more clearly defined roles. While they may have been limiting, they were also freeing in a sense. I don't imagine that Inez ever worried about how she would supplement the family's income- that wasn't her job. Inez didn't have to keep up her professional credentials so that she could re-enter the workforce at any given time- that wasn't part of her duty. Inez didn't have to battle time-draining technology like email and cell phones and yes, the Internet. Inez certainly didn't (according to first-hand reports) spend a moment worrying about entertaining her kids!
She loved her kids. She was a wonderful mother. She made sure all their needs were met. But entertainment? Not so much.
I've been reading John Rosemond. (Can you tell?) I used to think he was a right-wing fundamentalist meanie. Now I think he's just RIGHT.
He talks about how upside-down many of our child-rearing practices are today. Let me quote a few lines from my new favorite book, New Parent Power:
"In the years since World War II, we have become increasingly and neurotically obsessed with the raising of children. Something that used to be a fairly commonsense responsibility has taken on the trappings of science. Along the way, child-rearing has become "parenting," with all its high-pressured implications. ... Within the child-centered family, the implicit understanding is that children are the most important members, and the parent-child relationship is the most important relationship. The more child-centered the American family has become, the more demandingly self-centered American children have become. And the more demanding the children, the more demanding the task of raising them." (And he says so much more. I highly recommend his book.)
And reading his text, I realize that I've fallen into the trap, too. Again and again, I fall in. I spend hours planning activities to do with my children. I carefully analyze our toys- which ones are best? What toy should I buy next? I spend most of my time interacting with them, playing with them, supervising them. (Somewhat necessary since Brother is still a little fellow.) The house falls down around me but I can't clean it because the children demand my attention. Supper is take-out again because the children demand my attention. There is not one ounce of energy left in me at the end of the day to feed my marriage because the children drink every last drop.
And, honestly, isn't it all too much already? Do they really NEED this? Is it even good for them? Or am I doing them a disservice by creating two people who are dependent on someone else for their entertainment/ happiness?
Surely Inez didn't wrack herself with guilt that she couldn't spend the morning playing in the floor with her children. I don't think it even occurred to her. Between cleaning up from a hot breakfast for 9, maintaining her home, and preparing lunch and supper for 9 plus the field hands, I doubt there was much time for her to entertain her kids with puppet shows and design "learning centers" for them. I mean, SERIOUSLY.
So how did these poor un-played-with children fare in the cold, cruel world? Did they overcome this terrible lack of playrooms and toys and preschool programs and mothers-who-do-amazing-craft-projects-with-them? Let's see what they became:
Son #1- Economic Whiz and self-made millionaire
Son #2- College Professor
Daughter #1- Teacher and Home-maker (wife to town Mayor)
Daughter #2- Teacher and Home-maker (wife to state Senator)
Son #3- College Professor, agricultural entrepreneur, real-estate investor, self-made millionaire
Daughter #4- Teacher and Home-maker (wife to heart surgeon)
Son #4- Professional farmer who took over the home-place
And that's only their "measurable, "worldly successes. They also had happy marriages and wonderful families- lots of children. They were all very active in their churches. NONE of them ever divorced.
In looking at what their childhood lacked, I'm trying to figure out what it HAD. Because THAT'S what I want to give my kids.
Yes, I live in a different era. There is no changing it. And I am surely thankful that I don't have to wring a chicken's neck for my dinner tonight. Or sew our clothes. Or hand-wash our laundry.
And I certainly don't think there is anything wrong with craft projects, or toys, or preschool.
But I'm rethinking some things.
You?
Lately, I have been thinking about her more and more.
I have 2 kids (as opposed to 7 !), a dishwasher, plumbing, washing machine and dryer, Target, Wal-Mart, a variety of take-out restaurants nearby, a car, paper plates, a husband who helps out around the house (usually), and no need to ever lay one stitch in a piece of fabric unless I want to do so. And yet, at the end of many days, I feel completely whipped by this life. Spent. Overwhelmed.
And then, thinking about Inez, I feel SILLY.
Very silly.
I am sure that my lifestyle would look like the lap of luxury to her. But I can't bury this sneaking suspicion that somehow, her life had a different quality. Something less complex- the original "simple life." I think back then people had more clearly defined roles. While they may have been limiting, they were also freeing in a sense. I don't imagine that Inez ever worried about how she would supplement the family's income- that wasn't her job. Inez didn't have to keep up her professional credentials so that she could re-enter the workforce at any given time- that wasn't part of her duty. Inez didn't have to battle time-draining technology like email and cell phones and yes, the Internet. Inez certainly didn't (according to first-hand reports) spend a moment worrying about entertaining her kids!
She loved her kids. She was a wonderful mother. She made sure all their needs were met. But entertainment? Not so much.
I've been reading John Rosemond. (Can you tell?) I used to think he was a right-wing fundamentalist meanie. Now I think he's just RIGHT.
He talks about how upside-down many of our child-rearing practices are today. Let me quote a few lines from my new favorite book, New Parent Power:
"In the years since World War II, we have become increasingly and neurotically obsessed with the raising of children. Something that used to be a fairly commonsense responsibility has taken on the trappings of science. Along the way, child-rearing has become "parenting," with all its high-pressured implications. ... Within the child-centered family, the implicit understanding is that children are the most important members, and the parent-child relationship is the most important relationship. The more child-centered the American family has become, the more demandingly self-centered American children have become. And the more demanding the children, the more demanding the task of raising them." (And he says so much more. I highly recommend his book.)
And reading his text, I realize that I've fallen into the trap, too. Again and again, I fall in. I spend hours planning activities to do with my children. I carefully analyze our toys- which ones are best? What toy should I buy next? I spend most of my time interacting with them, playing with them, supervising them. (Somewhat necessary since Brother is still a little fellow.) The house falls down around me but I can't clean it because the children demand my attention. Supper is take-out again because the children demand my attention. There is not one ounce of energy left in me at the end of the day to feed my marriage because the children drink every last drop.
And, honestly, isn't it all too much already? Do they really NEED this? Is it even good for them? Or am I doing them a disservice by creating two people who are dependent on someone else for their entertainment/ happiness?
Surely Inez didn't wrack herself with guilt that she couldn't spend the morning playing in the floor with her children. I don't think it even occurred to her. Between cleaning up from a hot breakfast for 9, maintaining her home, and preparing lunch and supper for 9 plus the field hands, I doubt there was much time for her to entertain her kids with puppet shows and design "learning centers" for them. I mean, SERIOUSLY.
So how did these poor un-played-with children fare in the cold, cruel world? Did they overcome this terrible lack of playrooms and toys and preschool programs and mothers-who-do-amazing-craft-projects-with-them? Let's see what they became:
Son #1- Economic Whiz and self-made millionaire
Son #2- College Professor
Daughter #1- Teacher and Home-maker (wife to town Mayor)
Daughter #2- Teacher and Home-maker (wife to state Senator)
Son #3- College Professor, agricultural entrepreneur, real-estate investor, self-made millionaire
Daughter #4- Teacher and Home-maker (wife to heart surgeon)
Son #4- Professional farmer who took over the home-place
And that's only their "measurable, "worldly successes. They also had happy marriages and wonderful families- lots of children. They were all very active in their churches. NONE of them ever divorced.
In looking at what their childhood lacked, I'm trying to figure out what it HAD. Because THAT'S what I want to give my kids.
Yes, I live in a different era. There is no changing it. And I am surely thankful that I don't have to wring a chicken's neck for my dinner tonight. Or sew our clothes. Or hand-wash our laundry.
And I certainly don't think there is anything wrong with craft projects, or toys, or preschool.
But I'm rethinking some things.
You?
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Scarlett gets what she wants
Last weekend my DH flew to a far-away location to visit with his 82-year-old grandmother on her birthday, and join the related family festivities. I fled to my mother's house (locally) because I am a BIG CHICKEN and am afraid to stay in my house alone.
I thought I would get lots of blogging done, but I didn't anticipate one obstacle: Brother. I set up his Pak-N-Play in my mom's guest room/office and every time I could have gotten on the computer, he was sleeping in there! So, I had an unplanned vacation from the Internet. It wasn't a bad thing, but I missed you guys!
Anyway, this weekend was also our local school's consignment/rummage sale. I love this sale. It's HUGE and is geared towards all things kid-related (baby stuff, gear, equipment, toys, clothes, books, etc.) I always score some awesome deals and have so much fun shopping. This year I consigned some things and also signed up to work the sale on Saturday. If you consign or volunteer, you get to come shop the pre-sale Friday night (and cherry-pick all the good stuff!)
So here comes the story:
Friday morning I was helping with the set-up and I spied the golden prize: a like-new Schwinn double jogging stroller with a bike hitch! Now, this is not something I wanted. This is something my sweet sister-in-law has been wanting (and talking about non-stop) for months. She and my brother are teachers and live on peanuts, so buying a $300 stroller is out of the question. She's been scouring yard sales and the Internet forever, but hasn't found the stroller in her price range.
But Friday morning, there it was- shiny and in great shape and only fifty bucks!!!
I was so excited. And when I told my SIL, she was ecstatic. We were both on pins and needles all day, waiting for the pre-sale to start.
Now, here's the deal. The pre-sale started at 7:oo on Friday night. In the past we've had problems with people starting the shopping before 7:00 and pushing things to the side and marking them "sold" throughout the day. Not fair. Not cool. So this year the girl running the sale made a point to say that nothing was to be moved or sold until 7:00.
So, SIL and I arrived at the building at 6:30- we were first in line!- and stood there waiting and looking at the beautiful stroller gleaming at us from across the cafeteria. We had 30 minutes to kill, and so we chatted with the other women who were there finishing the set-up. Suddenly, at 6:50, SIL looks at me and says, "Susan! The stroller is gone!"
WHAT???
I looked. She was right. It had disappeared. I was stunned. And then I got angry. Someone was breaking the rules. I stepped into the room and saw what had happened. There is always a wall of tables set up for vendors (selling new things like monogrammed clothes, Discovery Toys, etc.) One of the vendors had left her table and snaked that stroller- pushing it over to the wall near her spot!
So I said something to one of my friends who was setting up. She went and said something to the woman in charge, who went and told the vendor she couldn't do that. So the vendor apologized and pushed the stroller back into the room- about 3 feet from her table! Meanwhile SIL and I are about 30 yards away at the door.
I knew exactly what would happen. As soon as they opened the sale at 7:00, she would just step out and grab that stroller. My SIL looked like she could cry. "Oh, well," she said, "I guess it's gone."
I was TICKED. "Um, no- not yet." I said through clenched teeth.
I stood there and tried to think what to do. I am not an aggressive person. I do not like confrontation. I am not good at approaching people in situations like that. And I have reached a point where material things are NOT worth relationships. But my SIL deserved that stroller. And we were following the rules. If one of the women who busted her fanny organizing and working that sale had wanted the stroller, that's one thing. But for some random vendor to take advantage of her ability to be in the building before the start of the sale and snake that stroller- well, I just couldn't let that go.
Next thing I know, I'm walking across the room to the vendor.
I smile sweetly, "Hi. I am so sorry, and I hate to do this, but I saw you push this stroller over here and I need to tell you that I've been here for 30 minutes at the front of the line so I could buy it."
The vendor (a very lovely woman) stared at me and said, "Oh."
Pause.
"Then you can have it."
I said, "No- I want to be fair. The sale is starting in 3 minutes. You want the stroller and I want the stroller. What if we flip a coin?"
She was very nice. She smiled and said, "OK. That sounds fair!"
I called heads. (I wasn't feeling nice enough to let her call it.)
HEADS!
She was very gracious in defeat and laughed, "I guess it was meant to be yours!"
We talked another minute and then I started walking back across the room to my SIL. Then I noticed another woman swooping in on the stroller! Geez!
So, I went back and planted my hand on that stroller and waited until the sale was officially open. The look on my SIL's face when she saw me pushing that stroller toward her was priceless. And I had so much adrenaline pumping from that little encounter that I shopped like I was on Speed for the rest of the night.
SIL has spent the last 5 years playing Melanie Wilkes to my Scarlett O'Hara. Tiresome, I'm sure.
But sometimes it's nice to have Scarlett on your side.
I thought I would get lots of blogging done, but I didn't anticipate one obstacle: Brother. I set up his Pak-N-Play in my mom's guest room/office and every time I could have gotten on the computer, he was sleeping in there! So, I had an unplanned vacation from the Internet. It wasn't a bad thing, but I missed you guys!
Anyway, this weekend was also our local school's consignment/rummage sale. I love this sale. It's HUGE and is geared towards all things kid-related (baby stuff, gear, equipment, toys, clothes, books, etc.) I always score some awesome deals and have so much fun shopping. This year I consigned some things and also signed up to work the sale on Saturday. If you consign or volunteer, you get to come shop the pre-sale Friday night (and cherry-pick all the good stuff!)
So here comes the story:
Friday morning I was helping with the set-up and I spied the golden prize: a like-new Schwinn double jogging stroller with a bike hitch! Now, this is not something I wanted. This is something my sweet sister-in-law has been wanting (and talking about non-stop) for months. She and my brother are teachers and live on peanuts, so buying a $300 stroller is out of the question. She's been scouring yard sales and the Internet forever, but hasn't found the stroller in her price range.
But Friday morning, there it was- shiny and in great shape and only fifty bucks!!!
I was so excited. And when I told my SIL, she was ecstatic. We were both on pins and needles all day, waiting for the pre-sale to start.
Now, here's the deal. The pre-sale started at 7:oo on Friday night. In the past we've had problems with people starting the shopping before 7:00 and pushing things to the side and marking them "sold" throughout the day. Not fair. Not cool. So this year the girl running the sale made a point to say that nothing was to be moved or sold until 7:00.
So, SIL and I arrived at the building at 6:30- we were first in line!- and stood there waiting and looking at the beautiful stroller gleaming at us from across the cafeteria. We had 30 minutes to kill, and so we chatted with the other women who were there finishing the set-up. Suddenly, at 6:50, SIL looks at me and says, "Susan! The stroller is gone!"
WHAT???
I looked. She was right. It had disappeared. I was stunned. And then I got angry. Someone was breaking the rules. I stepped into the room and saw what had happened. There is always a wall of tables set up for vendors (selling new things like monogrammed clothes, Discovery Toys, etc.) One of the vendors had left her table and snaked that stroller- pushing it over to the wall near her spot!
So I said something to one of my friends who was setting up. She went and said something to the woman in charge, who went and told the vendor she couldn't do that. So the vendor apologized and pushed the stroller back into the room- about 3 feet from her table! Meanwhile SIL and I are about 30 yards away at the door.
I knew exactly what would happen. As soon as they opened the sale at 7:00, she would just step out and grab that stroller. My SIL looked like she could cry. "Oh, well," she said, "I guess it's gone."
I was TICKED. "Um, no- not yet." I said through clenched teeth.
I stood there and tried to think what to do. I am not an aggressive person. I do not like confrontation. I am not good at approaching people in situations like that. And I have reached a point where material things are NOT worth relationships. But my SIL deserved that stroller. And we were following the rules. If one of the women who busted her fanny organizing and working that sale had wanted the stroller, that's one thing. But for some random vendor to take advantage of her ability to be in the building before the start of the sale and snake that stroller- well, I just couldn't let that go.
Next thing I know, I'm walking across the room to the vendor.
I smile sweetly, "Hi. I am so sorry, and I hate to do this, but I saw you push this stroller over here and I need to tell you that I've been here for 30 minutes at the front of the line so I could buy it."
The vendor (a very lovely woman) stared at me and said, "Oh."
Pause.
"Then you can have it."
I said, "No- I want to be fair. The sale is starting in 3 minutes. You want the stroller and I want the stroller. What if we flip a coin?"
She was very nice. She smiled and said, "OK. That sounds fair!"
I called heads. (I wasn't feeling nice enough to let her call it.)
HEADS!
She was very gracious in defeat and laughed, "I guess it was meant to be yours!"
We talked another minute and then I started walking back across the room to my SIL. Then I noticed another woman swooping in on the stroller! Geez!
So, I went back and planted my hand on that stroller and waited until the sale was officially open. The look on my SIL's face when she saw me pushing that stroller toward her was priceless. And I had so much adrenaline pumping from that little encounter that I shopped like I was on Speed for the rest of the night.
SIL has spent the last 5 years playing Melanie Wilkes to my Scarlett O'Hara. Tiresome, I'm sure.
But sometimes it's nice to have Scarlett on your side.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Where have I been? Man, life is clipping past me at quite a rapid pace. Between DH's work, negotiating, re-negotiating, and re-re-negotiating a contract on our house, having it inspected, and spending what seems like hours on the phone with our realtor, there just aren't many spare moments. But in the ones I do have, I've been scheming.
I am determined to make my hours home with my children more enjoyable and more productive. Right now it's survival mode; keep Brother from seriously injuring himself. Keep Sister from watching too much tv, keep the siblings playing nicely, keep the clutter from swallowing me whole. By 6:00 every day I feel very, how shall I say... put out. And just in time for the DH's homecoming! So lovely.
I don't like this attitude. It's too much Eyeore, too little Tigger. (A la The Last Lecture .) So, I'm scheming. And if I had time, I'd share my scheme with you. As it is, a bottom needs wiping, a boy needs bathing (desperately!) so I'd better run along.
I shall return.
I am determined to make my hours home with my children more enjoyable and more productive. Right now it's survival mode; keep Brother from seriously injuring himself. Keep Sister from watching too much tv, keep the siblings playing nicely, keep the clutter from swallowing me whole. By 6:00 every day I feel very, how shall I say... put out. And just in time for the DH's homecoming! So lovely.
I don't like this attitude. It's too much Eyeore, too little Tigger. (A la The Last Lecture .) So, I'm scheming. And if I had time, I'd share my scheme with you. As it is, a bottom needs wiping, a boy needs bathing (desperately!) so I'd better run along.
I shall return.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
ha ha
OK. Since I've been so HEAVY on this blog lately, I decided to lighten things up. Here is a great story my DH brought home from school recently.
He was observing a kindergarten teacher as she was teaching a science lesson. It was something about gravity and force, and he said she was doing a great job. The kids were totally "into it." I must mention that this wonderful teacher is also rather overweight. You'll see why I had to mention that fact in a moment.
The teacher held up a stick with a rope and ball attached to the end. She asked the kids to observe what happened to the ball when she swung the stick. She started spinning the stick, and of course, the little ball went flying into orbit. The kids were riveted, and so when the teacher asked, "Boys and girls- what do you observe?" a little girl piped right up, "Ms. S! When you do that, the fat under your arm goes back and forth real fast!"
My husband said he almost died laughing (as quietly as he could.) The teacher, being the pro that she is, laughed too, and told the little girl that she had made a very accurate observation.
Kids are so funny!
Hope you have a great April Fool's Day. We're having a birthday bash at my house tonight for my Dad- a true April Fool (in the best sense.) I wonder if being born on this day was what made him so fun to be with and so good-humored? I'm attempting to make a clown cake that Sister saw in a fancy cookbook and just HAD to have for Pop's birthday. If it's decent, I'll post a picture tomorrow.
I'm off to bake!
He was observing a kindergarten teacher as she was teaching a science lesson. It was something about gravity and force, and he said she was doing a great job. The kids were totally "into it." I must mention that this wonderful teacher is also rather overweight. You'll see why I had to mention that fact in a moment.
The teacher held up a stick with a rope and ball attached to the end. She asked the kids to observe what happened to the ball when she swung the stick. She started spinning the stick, and of course, the little ball went flying into orbit. The kids were riveted, and so when the teacher asked, "Boys and girls- what do you observe?" a little girl piped right up, "Ms. S! When you do that, the fat under your arm goes back and forth real fast!"
My husband said he almost died laughing (as quietly as he could.) The teacher, being the pro that she is, laughed too, and told the little girl that she had made a very accurate observation.
Kids are so funny!
Hope you have a great April Fool's Day. We're having a birthday bash at my house tonight for my Dad- a true April Fool (in the best sense.) I wonder if being born on this day was what made him so fun to be with and so good-humored? I'm attempting to make a clown cake that Sister saw in a fancy cookbook and just HAD to have for Pop's birthday. If it's decent, I'll post a picture tomorrow.
I'm off to bake!
Monday, March 31, 2008
Buzz-kill
I know I'm a big downer lately, and I hate people like that. I had a sorority sister in college whom we secretly called "buzz-kill" (isn't that lovely?- such sisterly devotion) because of her incredible ability to steal the joy from a party with her conversation topics. There we were, girls in skimpy clothes, boys with too much testosterone, everyone drinking beer, dancing to loud music, and then she'd sidle up to you (and the boy you hoped would kiss you before the evening was out) and bring up partial-birth abortion. Or politics. Or how her sister's boyfriend had committed suicide.
Buzz-kill.
But I just can't help myself. I have to recount this sad story from church. (Why am I always full of sad stories from church? My church is actually a very joyful place.)
I was sitting on the end of an aisle, waiting for the service to start, when a woman sitting nearby said, "Susan?"
I was thrilled to see my friend, Lisa, from my former life. (You know- the life you had before kids when you'd go out with other couples and DO things.)
Lisa and Paul were one of the fun couples we met when we were first married, and the four of us used to get together for dinner, invite each other to soirees, etc. They are one of those GREAT couples- laid-back, down-to-earth, fun. Never pretentious. Always kind and welcoming. Of course, once we all had kids we lost touch. The evenings out stopped altogether- you know how it goes. But we had been seeing them around church in the past two years, and this was a very happy surprise, because Paul had always been steadfast in his disbelief and complete disinterest in all things God. Something had changed for him, and he was attending church regularly with Lisa and their son.
Then about six months ago my DH ran into Paul after church and Paul told him how things had been tough for them lately. He said he had injured himself at work (he is a fire-fighter), that Lisa had battled breast cancer, and that he had been struggling with a drug addiction. This was all shocking news, but it was OK- Lisa was in remission. Paul had defeated the addiction and was leading a ministry for drug addicts at our church. It was exciting stuff.
So as I chatted with Lisa yesterday, I inquired, "How's Paul?"
Her expression went blank and she said, "I wouldn't know. We're divorcing."
A punch in the face would have made less of an impact on me.
WHAT?
"He relapsed. He's fallen back into his addiction."
I was baffled. "But I thought he was past that! I thought he was leading the addiction ministry here at church!"
She just looked sad - so sad- and said, "He was using the whole time."
Cue the music to the opening worship song, and I give her a quick hug and an "I'm so sorry."
And then I'm supposed to turn around and PRAISE THE LORD.
But I couldn't. I just stood there fighting tears and hoping she couldn't see.
Poor Lisa. Poor 8 year old son.
Poor Paul. I'll admit- I was angry with him for a little while. But who the heck am I kidding? I can't even get off caffeine!!! (Seriously- I can't.) I'm in no position to judge him.
And I'm certainly not mad at God or anything silly like that. But I am so, so sad for them.
Sorry guys. Buzz-kill.
Buzz-kill.
But I just can't help myself. I have to recount this sad story from church. (Why am I always full of sad stories from church? My church is actually a very joyful place.)
I was sitting on the end of an aisle, waiting for the service to start, when a woman sitting nearby said, "Susan?"
I was thrilled to see my friend, Lisa, from my former life. (You know- the life you had before kids when you'd go out with other couples and DO things.)
Lisa and Paul were one of the fun couples we met when we were first married, and the four of us used to get together for dinner, invite each other to soirees, etc. They are one of those GREAT couples- laid-back, down-to-earth, fun. Never pretentious. Always kind and welcoming. Of course, once we all had kids we lost touch. The evenings out stopped altogether- you know how it goes. But we had been seeing them around church in the past two years, and this was a very happy surprise, because Paul had always been steadfast in his disbelief and complete disinterest in all things God. Something had changed for him, and he was attending church regularly with Lisa and their son.
Then about six months ago my DH ran into Paul after church and Paul told him how things had been tough for them lately. He said he had injured himself at work (he is a fire-fighter), that Lisa had battled breast cancer, and that he had been struggling with a drug addiction. This was all shocking news, but it was OK- Lisa was in remission. Paul had defeated the addiction and was leading a ministry for drug addicts at our church. It was exciting stuff.
So as I chatted with Lisa yesterday, I inquired, "How's Paul?"
Her expression went blank and she said, "I wouldn't know. We're divorcing."
A punch in the face would have made less of an impact on me.
WHAT?
"He relapsed. He's fallen back into his addiction."
I was baffled. "But I thought he was past that! I thought he was leading the addiction ministry here at church!"
She just looked sad - so sad- and said, "He was using the whole time."
Cue the music to the opening worship song, and I give her a quick hug and an "I'm so sorry."
And then I'm supposed to turn around and PRAISE THE LORD.
But I couldn't. I just stood there fighting tears and hoping she couldn't see.
Poor Lisa. Poor 8 year old son.
Poor Paul. I'll admit- I was angry with him for a little while. But who the heck am I kidding? I can't even get off caffeine!!! (Seriously- I can't.) I'm in no position to judge him.
And I'm certainly not mad at God or anything silly like that. But I am so, so sad for them.
Sorry guys. Buzz-kill.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Sending out an SOS... (Imagine Sting singing it- it's better that way)
Help.
I am having some serious struggles with picky eaters in my house.
And just so you know, I have already done a lot of homework on this issue. I have read several books, talked to my pediatrician, discussed it with the playgroup mom crew, etc. And here's where I am:
I am not an overly-permissive parent (at all), but I have decided that our dinner table cannot be a battle zone. We've been down that road too many times, and I'm not up for it. My sweet husband (bushed from a day of being a principal) isn't' up for it. It's not good for our family morale. And every "expert" I talk to (or read) advises against forcing kids to eat foods they don't want. From my own childhood experience, I'd have to agree. We were made to eat vegetables as children, and now my brother and I have strong aversions to many of those same vegetables. In fact, the only way you will get a green pea in my mouth is to stuff it into my cold, dead body.
Some of my most vivid childhood memories involve my father and brother's nightly dinnertime stand-off over my brother cleaning his plate. Being the obedient, older child, one stern glance from my father would have me stuffing my entire vegetable serving into my mouth and swallowing them without chewing, chased by a big gulp of milk. But not my brother- he would sit there for a good hour having a stare-down with my dad. Dad always won, but it wasn't pretty. (And then there was the scene the night my dad found a big wad of chewed-up green beans in the bathroom trashcan.) I used to feel so sorry for my brother, but now that I'm a parent, I feel retrospective sympathy for my poor dad. There he was, after a hard day at the office, wanting only the recliner and newspaper, faced with my defiant brother and a plate of peas. He did what he thought was right, but it seems the end result was that he rasied a boy who became a man who hates vegetables.
I am determined that my children eat (mostly) healthy foods. I'm not a nut about it- some goldfish or animal crackers here and there don't stress me out, if they have been eating the healthy stuff too. But I really do want them to develop healthy habits- healthier than mine were as a child/adolescent.
I have tried to "put the healthy food on their plate and just let them choose what they want." It doesn't work very well at my house. Here is what happens. Brother (21 months) will look at a plate with tiny bites of roast beef, small pieces of fresh green bean, small pieces of whole wheat french bread, and watermelon bites. He will fuss that he wants the meat off the tray. We say something like, "It's OK. Just let it stay there." He will then proceed to eat every bite of watermelon and holler for more. We say, "Eat your other foods first!" He then says "No no!" and makes swiping motions at the beans and roast. He will half-heartedly eat a few bites of bread, drink some milk, and then ask again for watermelon.
Here's my question- what would you do next? We have tried holding the watermelon hostage until other foods are tasted. It results in a lot of crying and no more food is eaten.
We have tried making him stay in the chair until other foods are tasted. It results in a lot of crying and no more food is eaten.
We have tried keeping him from a favorite activity (watching Elmo on TV) until he tastes the other foods. It results in a lot of crying and no more food is eaten.
So, my friends, any suggestions???
Sister is getting (a little) easier now that she's 3 and 1/2 because we can reason with her a bit, hold out on sweets and snacks, etc. But the almost-2-year-old-boy is my challenge.
I would appreciate any and all advice. And if you do post a reply in the comments, check back because I may ask you a follow-up question there. Thanks!
I am having some serious struggles with picky eaters in my house.
And just so you know, I have already done a lot of homework on this issue. I have read several books, talked to my pediatrician, discussed it with the playgroup mom crew, etc. And here's where I am:
I am not an overly-permissive parent (at all), but I have decided that our dinner table cannot be a battle zone. We've been down that road too many times, and I'm not up for it. My sweet husband (bushed from a day of being a principal) isn't' up for it. It's not good for our family morale. And every "expert" I talk to (or read) advises against forcing kids to eat foods they don't want. From my own childhood experience, I'd have to agree. We were made to eat vegetables as children, and now my brother and I have strong aversions to many of those same vegetables. In fact, the only way you will get a green pea in my mouth is to stuff it into my cold, dead body.
Some of my most vivid childhood memories involve my father and brother's nightly dinnertime stand-off over my brother cleaning his plate. Being the obedient, older child, one stern glance from my father would have me stuffing my entire vegetable serving into my mouth and swallowing them without chewing, chased by a big gulp of milk. But not my brother- he would sit there for a good hour having a stare-down with my dad. Dad always won, but it wasn't pretty. (And then there was the scene the night my dad found a big wad of chewed-up green beans in the bathroom trashcan.) I used to feel so sorry for my brother, but now that I'm a parent, I feel retrospective sympathy for my poor dad. There he was, after a hard day at the office, wanting only the recliner and newspaper, faced with my defiant brother and a plate of peas. He did what he thought was right, but it seems the end result was that he rasied a boy who became a man who hates vegetables.
I am determined that my children eat (mostly) healthy foods. I'm not a nut about it- some goldfish or animal crackers here and there don't stress me out, if they have been eating the healthy stuff too. But I really do want them to develop healthy habits- healthier than mine were as a child/adolescent.
I have tried to "put the healthy food on their plate and just let them choose what they want." It doesn't work very well at my house. Here is what happens. Brother (21 months) will look at a plate with tiny bites of roast beef, small pieces of fresh green bean, small pieces of whole wheat french bread, and watermelon bites. He will fuss that he wants the meat off the tray. We say something like, "It's OK. Just let it stay there." He will then proceed to eat every bite of watermelon and holler for more. We say, "Eat your other foods first!" He then says "No no!" and makes swiping motions at the beans and roast. He will half-heartedly eat a few bites of bread, drink some milk, and then ask again for watermelon.
Here's my question- what would you do next? We have tried holding the watermelon hostage until other foods are tasted. It results in a lot of crying and no more food is eaten.
We have tried making him stay in the chair until other foods are tasted. It results in a lot of crying and no more food is eaten.
We have tried keeping him from a favorite activity (watching Elmo on TV) until he tastes the other foods. It results in a lot of crying and no more food is eaten.
So, my friends, any suggestions???
Sister is getting (a little) easier now that she's 3 and 1/2 because we can reason with her a bit, hold out on sweets and snacks, etc. But the almost-2-year-old-boy is my challenge.
I would appreciate any and all advice. And if you do post a reply in the comments, check back because I may ask you a follow-up question there. Thanks!
Saturday, March 1, 2008
coolness::gone
The other day my SIL (Sister-in-law) and I were sitting together talking about how cool we used to be in our college days. Sort of like, "I know I'm not cool now, but I used to be cool. I had really cool clothes, and I listened to cool music. Very cool..."
My brother heard us and he said, "Um, I hate to tell you this, but the fact that you're having this conversation means neither of you were ever cool."
I told him to shut up, of course. (My duty as his older sister.)
Anyway, I was thinking about my former coolness, and how it has utterly departed from me. I devised a little top ten list for your enjoyment. Do you recognize yourself in any of these items? Anything you want to add?
You know you aren’t cool anymore when…
10.You go out to eat but don’t enjoy your meal because the restaurant is “too loud.”
9. You barely watch TV anymore because all the shows are too “trashy.” You realize that the morals of your generation far surpass those of the current younger generation.
8. You order all of your clothes from catalogs you once scorned, such as L.L. Bean and Eddie Bauer.
7. Teenagers are listening to music you listened to when you were a teenager because it’s “retro” and cool again.
6. Comfort has surpassed aesthetics when purchasing shoes. (I swear, my feet look like mushrooms in the Danskos I wear. Ask me if I care.)
5. You wonder why anyone would spend an evening in a crowded, noisy bar when they could be sitting at home watching “Seinfeld” reruns in their pajamas.
4. You catch yourself calling young people like the bag boy at the grocery store “honey.”
3. The check-out girl hasn’t carded you in years.
2. When a good-looking guy smiles in your direction at the grocery store, you know that a) it’s not sexual and b) you could care less.
Note: He’s actually smiling at your baby.
1. Most of your anecdotes for your top ten list seem to occur at the grocery store.
:-) Hope you all have a very cool weekend!
My brother heard us and he said, "Um, I hate to tell you this, but the fact that you're having this conversation means neither of you were ever cool."
I told him to shut up, of course. (My duty as his older sister.)
Anyway, I was thinking about my former coolness, and how it has utterly departed from me. I devised a little top ten list for your enjoyment. Do you recognize yourself in any of these items? Anything you want to add?
You know you aren’t cool anymore when…
10.You go out to eat but don’t enjoy your meal because the restaurant is “too loud.”
9. You barely watch TV anymore because all the shows are too “trashy.” You realize that the morals of your generation far surpass those of the current younger generation.
8. You order all of your clothes from catalogs you once scorned, such as L.L. Bean and Eddie Bauer.
7. Teenagers are listening to music you listened to when you were a teenager because it’s “retro” and cool again.
6. Comfort has surpassed aesthetics when purchasing shoes. (I swear, my feet look like mushrooms in the Danskos I wear. Ask me if I care.)
5. You wonder why anyone would spend an evening in a crowded, noisy bar when they could be sitting at home watching “Seinfeld” reruns in their pajamas.
4. You catch yourself calling young people like the bag boy at the grocery store “honey.”
3. The check-out girl hasn’t carded you in years.
2. When a good-looking guy smiles in your direction at the grocery store, you know that a) it’s not sexual and b) you could care less.
Note: He’s actually smiling at your baby.
1. Most of your anecdotes for your top ten list seem to occur at the grocery store.
:-) Hope you all have a very cool weekend!
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