Thursday, May 29, 2008
Ok, so we're at the store. I picked the mint-filled Oreos because, even though I'm not going to eat any, they are my very favorite. After ringing up the groceries, the very young checkout boy asked if I had any coupons. I handed my stack to him. The Oreo coupon was the very last one. He tried to scan it and handed it back to me. I said "Why are you handing this back to me?" He said "You didn't get these." As if the free Oreos would have been the item I would have forgotten. Soy milk, yes, Oreos, never.
The Oreos weren't bagged yet, so I pointed at them and said "They are right there." He said "Oh, ok. Hang on." He tried to scan it again. It didn't work, so he looked at the coupon and handed it back to me. "You're supposed to get the Kroger brand." Now, I'm not usually one to sit and argue if they refuse a coupon. It's usually something I needed anyway, plus I feel bad holding up the line. There were three people waiting in line behind me. My girls were running around, hiding from each other, and shrieking every time they found one another. I should have left. I should have just said "Forget it" and told him to take the Oreos off of my bill. But I wanted them. And the only way I could justify getting them was because they were free. Not because of the money, but because of the diet. How can you claim to be a healthy eater and bring home a pack of Oreos?
So I responded, "It says Oreos on the coupon. The Kroger brand are not called Oreos." (I don't know what the Kroger brand is called, but the Wal Mart brand is Twist and Shout. My brother, Josh, bought Twist and Shouts when I came to stay with him just so we could laugh about it.)
Young Checkout Boy said "Oh, ok. Hang on." He tried to scan it again. It didn't work. He goes "Oh, I think it's because they have the green inside and maybe you have to get the plain."
My heart skipped a beat, I felt my face getting hot, and I said in a very firm voice. "Come on, Dude. (Yes, I called him dude...I was trying to connect on a younger level.) The coupon doesn't say it has to be plain. It says Oreo Sandwich Cookie and those are obviously Oreo Sandwich Cookies. I'm going to get that package right there for free. If we need to call the manager, we can, but I'm not paying for them and I'm not leaving them here."
I really said that. Over a pack of Oreos.
He didn't call the manager. He just voided the Oreos and bagged them up. As I walked out, I imagined I could hear him and his equally young bag-boy friend laughing at me. "How about the fat lady that yelled at me over a bag of Oreos?" I didn't care. Not much, anyway. One of these days he may be overweight and on a budget and he will get it. Or not. At any rate, I have my Oreos. And I haven't touched them. Yet.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Monday, May 26, 2008
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
If I lock the dishwasher, he turns it on. At any time of the day, I might walk into the kitchen and notice that the dishwasher is running. We do lots of small washes. The other day, I put away three knives and a sippy cup. Energy conservation does not seem to be high on Rhett's list of priorities.
My only consolation, besides knowing he will grow out of it (sob!), is thinking that he might not grow out of it. And he'll be my little helper in the kitchen. Big Tuna, the dishwasher. Yeah, that'll happen.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Aren't they cute? I love to see kids, all wet and red-faced, wrapped in towels. It's one of my favorite things.
Here's the one of Grammy...
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
I like that you are fierce and determined. I love your strong will. I like that you know how to be silly, but can be all-business when it comes to school-work or sports. I love how sweet you are to your younger siblings. I love that you tell me sweet things for no reason. I love that you are able to have fun doing just about anything. I could look forever at your shining blue eyes and elated smile when you are excited about something. I like that you want your hair cut like a boy, but that the soft blonde curls around your face can't be tamed. I love that you dress yourself and wear whatever YOU want to wear, even if no one else wears black socks with shorts or blue stripes with camo shorts.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Today, however, when I read an article about the recent earthquake in China, I was so overwhelmed with sadness, I actually cried. It was bad enough that more than 19,000 people were killed. The part that tore at my heart was that over 400 children have been found dead so far. And that officials wouldn't let the parents in the school to help dig for them. And that some of them were missing their fingernails because they had tried to dig themselves out of the rubble.
There were photographs of parents cradling their dead children. I saw one picture of tiny bodies covered in white blankets, lined side-by-side in a makeshift morgue. A father described his feelings of desperation as he searched for his daughter, as he dressed her body in pink pajamas. This, in a country where families are only allowed to have one child. I cannot imagine the devastation. The whole thing was so depressing.
And I'm sorry if I'm depressing you. But the whole thing made me think. And pray. And think some more.
It made me think about how we are so fortunate to live in a country where we can have as many children as we want. And even though I believe there are people who have children for the wrong reasons, I'm so glad that I live in a place where we have that option. I am sick to death of hearing all the anti-American rhetoric that the mainstream media spews, but I am so glad that they have the right to do so. The poor parents in China had no course of action to take when they were denied access to their children. Can you imagine the outrage if that had happened here?
I thought about what it would feel like to lose a child. Your only child. You were not allowed to help your child escape from a dark, dirty, desolate school building. You had to stand outside the building, held back by officials who, instead of digging, were concerned with keeping you away while your most precious treasure lay inside, alone, afraid, injured. I cannot imagine. I hope I never encounter such loss.
And then, when I looked again, for the tenth time, at those pictures, at the grief on those parents' faces, I thought of something else. How, despite cultural and ethnic differences, we really are so alike. We are all just humans. People. Mothers and fathers, loving and cherishing their children with all that they have.
Ok, so that is depressing...I'll stop now. How about a picture of Big Tuna getting a brain freeze while wolfing down his very first ice cream cone?
Worked for me! :)
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
On with the show...
Today, I went to a friend's to help her out with babysitting. She keeps three kids in her home. They are 3, 2 and tiny. I've done it before and it's really not a big deal. The busiest time is lunchtime and even that isn't much more hectic than lunchtime at my own home. Plus, I can always use an extra buck or two, so sometimes I look forward to her asking me to help.
I regret ever thinking that after today.
All was going well until after lunchtime. That would be nap time. The baby and the 2 year old went down with no trouble. The three year old was a different story. First, he stalled on going potty. I finally had to carry him in there and stand by the door and told him he couldn't come out until he went. I have no idea if he really did go, but he flushed the potty and came out and told me he went. I took him into the room where he naps and laid him down. He told me no. I said yes. I told him not to get up and then I left, shutting the door behind me. A few minutes later, I heard banging. I went in and he was jumping on the bed. Again, I told him to lay down. He did. I left.
Meanwhile, Rhett was smelling sorta ripe, so I changed him. Very poopy diaper. While I was changing him, I heard Mr. No Nap banging around again. I checked on him. He was upside down in the bed, with all the covers all over the floor. I reminded him of the rules and walked out. As I stepped out into the hall I thought "Hmmm, it sure smells a lot better out here in the hall than it did in that room." Not wanting to even imagine what the smell in that room was, I kept going. But then guilt overtook me and I went back.
This time, the smell hit me like a ton of bricks. The only smell that actually becomes an entity the longer it sits. Poop. On a 3 year old child who is not my own. Dammit. Dammitdammitdammitdammit. I did NOT want to clean it up. I said "Joe (not his real name), are you poopy?" He looked at me with a smug grin and said "Yep." And then I walked toward him. It was EVERYWHERE. On the sheets, on the WALLS, all up and down his legs. I didn't know what to do. I stripped him, bagged the t-shirt and shorts, rinsed the undies out in the toilet and then threw them in the trash. I put him in the shower, squirted two huge handfuls of soap into his hands and said "Scrub everything you can reach." I don't really know how people feel about other people giving their children baths and showers, so I just decided to play it safe and let him do it. I left him in there for at least 1o minutes while I scrubbed the walls, the bathroom floor, the toilet and put the sheets in the wash.
I went back in when I felt like, even if he hadn't scrubbed all the necessary parts, the water had to have washed him clean.
I got him out, dried him off, dressed him in his spare clothes and said, "I know you thought that, by pooping in your pants, you would get out of napping, but I don't work that way. You are going back. And if you get out of that bed, I'm calling your mom."
I'm not proud that I said it in a 3rd grade "nah, nah, nah, nah, nah" tone, or that I resorted to tattling, but I wasn't feeling too kind at that moment.
He never came out again. It's a good thing too, because I don't know his mom's number.
Anyway...I went back out to the living room to scrub my hands and arms with hot water and to check on my own children. I felt as though poop was emanating from my pores. I could smell it everywhere. I sat down, trying to relax. The smell would NOT go away. I picked Rhett up. The smell was worse. Poopy again? Diaper check. No poop. Have I got poop on my face? Mirror check. No. Where could it be coming from??????
I look down. It's on Rhett's hands. And the sofa. Apparently, when I changed him, he got his hands in it and I didn't notice, because I was so busy thinking of a punishment for Mr. No Nap Shitpants. Thankfully, it seemed only to be on his hands and the sofa, which is leather. It wasn't so bad. But what are the odds of two poopy accidents in one day? I guess with 5 kids and me, it's probably something like 2 to 1. Oh well...you know what they say. Shit happens.
(You know I had to say it.)
Friday, May 9, 2008
Thursday, May 8, 2008
I gasped. "OH MY GOD (they aren't allowed to say this, so it had great affect on Avery), YOU ARE BLEEDING!" So much for staying calm in a crisis. Avery starts to panic and cry again. She wants to see it, but can't, which makes her panic even more. I took a picture so she could see (not just to show you people) and that made it worse. It was a tragic scene, to be sure. And here I sat, all guilty and sheepish, because I hadn't responded when she cried earlier.
Apparently, Reese had been holding the phone in her hand while they were wrestling and accidentally hit Avery in the head. It was barely a nick, but man, those head injuries can bleed. When I finally convinced Avery to let me wash it all off, it wasn't even noticeable. I still feel guilty. But Avery LOVES to look at this picture and show it to all our friends. We look at it almost daily. It's her badge of honor. And yet another badge of poor mothering on my part.
P.S. Reese hit her head yesterday and asked me to take a picture of it so she could see. I could barely stop laughing long enough to take it. She was disappointed. She said "Momma, where's my boo-boo?" I love that kid.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
I was watching a Dr. Phil episode yesterday afternoon...maybe it wasn't yesterday's episode, maybe it was. I have a bunch recorded and just watch them willy nilly whenever I feel like it. Ok, so, whatever date it originally aired, as usual, there were some people feuding. Not just arguing, but feuding -I'm not sure what the difference is. Ask Dr. Phil.
Anyway, what I learned from yesterday's show were two things I've always suspected, but was thrilled to have confirmed by Dr. Phil. And as we all know, if Dr. Phil said it, it must be true. (I kid. Sort of.)
The two things I learned are this: Admitting you're wrong, especially after a long period of time has passed, is one of the hardest things in the world for a person to do; and there is a right way and a wrong way to say I'm sorry. Dr. Phil outlined it a bit yesterday, so I thought I'd share...I know none of you want to be going around making inappropriate apologies. And you know you've gotten some. You know the ones....the words "I'm sorry" did come out of the person's mouth, but with every fiber of your being, you know they didn't mean it. And if they had the nerve they would have probably said "I'm sorry....sorry that you are such a turdface that you are forcing me to apologize."
So here we go with some examples...if you don't like it, see Dr. Phil. This is his area of expertise, I'm just the messenger.
Right way: I'm so sorry I hurt you. I feel so bad. Wrong way: I'm sorry you were hurt.
Right way: I never meant to upset you. I'm sorry. Wrong way: I'm sorry you took it the wrong way.
Right way: I was wrong. I'm sorry. Wrong way: I don't know what I did to make you so upset, but I'm sorry you are upset.
Right way: I'm sorry Wrong way: Well, soooorrrrry (in a sing song voice like when you were 12...Dr. Phil didn't say this one, but I thought it was important to mention.)
What was so funny to me, watching yesterday's show, was how hard it was for some people to get. This lady kept saying "I'm sorry...I still don't think I did anything wrong, but I'll say I'm sorry if that's what it will take to make this all go away." She never got it. Some people never do.
Ok, so this was a weird post, I admit. I just had to clarify a few things. And if it makes any of your lives easier, all the better.
Monday, May 5, 2008
After changing her mind 412 times about which movie to watch, she decided on Dora. No, make that Word World. No, Monsters Inc. No, Dora is good. Ok, we're watching Dora. I expected to have at least 30 minutes of peace as Betty went to work foiling my hair. Reese had all the expected questions at first. "What is she doing in your hair, Momma?" "What is that stuff?" "It's bee-custy!" Then, she changed her mind about movies. And dropped the DVD player on the floor. And nearly sent poor Betty flying across the floor, trying to catch the DVD player before it hit the ground. She missed. I
I took the DVD player away and told her she had to sit and read books. She read all three in about 15 seconds. And she was bored. I had to keep getting up and picking things up off of the floor, which made the foil take an hour instead of the usual 30 minutes.
Then it was time for me to sit under the dryer. It was quiet over in the corner, and I set Reese up next to me with Dora again. She was happy. For three minutes until the battery died in the DVD player.
I turned off the dryer, got up, went out into the store part of the salon and picked out some nail polish. I then went back to the dryer, turned it on, and gave Reese a mani-pedi. That took care of 4 minutes. She spun in circles in front of me, drying her nails, for a while. A good song came on the radio and she danced for all the salon patrons, making some smile and some look at her like "Why is that child at the salon? Can't her mother find a babysitter for one hour?" No, her mother can't.
I handed Reese the bag of chocolate covered pretzels and let her go to work. This kept her busy for a while. I also realized that removing her shoes and telling her to put them back on wastes alot of time, too.
Somehow, we made it. I was in the chair, ready for a haircut when Reese had to go potty for the 27th time. I don't know how the other people felt about her going in there, but I found it quite hilarious that she would go in, sit on the potty forever, yelling that she was "going tee-tee!" or "I going poopy!" She would yell at me that she was done, I would go in and she would tell me she wanted to be by herself. It was probably very aggravating to Betty, who just wanted to cut my hair and get me out of there, but I did get a giggle out of her.
The final straw was halfway through my blow dry. Reese was, as usual, on the potty yelling. The yelling stops and I hear the potty flush. Assuming she was done, Betty and I, as well as the 5 other people near us, turn to make sure she's coming out ok. Oh, she came out. Nude. She was holding her panties, which were full of skids, and saying "Momma, deez yucky. I don't like 'em!"
I feel certain that the next time I go in there (without children) there will be a sign on the wall. PLEASE DO NOT BRING CHILDREN INTO SALON.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Saturday, May 3, 2008
If Reese doing situps in her underwear doesn't make you grin, then you just aren't trying!
Friday, May 2, 2008
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Anyway, as you may or may not be aware, Heidi has come out with her own skincare line. I saw her promoting it on Ellen one day and she was so excited about it, I thought I would try it.
I just got it in the mail last week...and guess what? I've been using it for a week, and while I do think some of the products are good, I don't look any more like Heidi Klum than I did the last week. I also developed a new zit. It goes really well with all the others I've developed in the last few years. Not to mention my new glasses.
Speaking of the new glasses. I picked them up at the mall yesterday. When we got home, I put them on and Avery died laughing. She said "Oh, Mom, those are really hilarious!" I said, "Why are you laughing at me?" She said "Uh, Mom, don't you remember? We laughed at you in the store too. They are really funny." (NOTE: This is true. When I tried on the first pair of glasses, Reese started belly laughing really loud, as if I were the most hilarious person on earth. That does alot for the ol' self esteem, let me tell you.)
I don't have a prayer. Dangit.