So if nothing else, you can't claim there is no truth in advertising today. I had a really crappy day, and I feel like whining for sympathy. The requirement for reading this is to leave a note telling me how picked on I am and how much you love me ;-) You are to keep all comments on just how pathetic and ridiculous I am to yourself!
My twins are teething, and sleep has been a ridiculously precious commodity. Last night I crashed at 11:30 with the intentions of getting up at 8:30 if it killed me. I know, you are already thinking, "Waah, waah, waah." It gets worse. Instead of getting 8 or 9 hours of interrupted sleep, I got 10 whole hours of straight, unadulterated sleep. No - this isn't where I want the sympathy. Stop mocking me and keep reading! It's 10am and I hear the babies making noise ('cause they aren't sure what to do with all this sleep, either. I'm hoping it will become addicting and they'll form a habit!). I have a hang-over like feeling from too much sleep (not that I really know what those are...). I groggily decide to make a cup of coffee, have breakfast, shower, and get the kids up. I'm on the way to the kitchen when the doorbell rings. Really? I'm in my PJ pants and a ratty shirt with slippers, and my hair is standing up on end (some of you can more fully appreciate that picture than others). I think, "Please be a package." There's an arm at the window by the front door. Craaaaaaaap....so I toss on a sweatshirt and open the door.
It's my down the street neighbor, who is in her 80s. She gives me that startled, shocked look older people do so well when your generation fails to live up to their standards. I manage a weak smile and say, "Hi, what's up?" She starts rambling out a story about how her phone will receive calls but not make them. I keep inviting her inside, but she just stands on the cold, cold step wandering through this story. Finally, just as I'm ready to shriek, "WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?!?" she says, "Can I come in and borrow your phone to call AT&T." I'm relieved that this is all she wants, because honestly I'm not ready for real life yet. I invite her in (this time she accepts), and go to grab my phone. I turn back to see the same look of distaste as she surveys my living room, which looks like nuclear winter after a toy store...
My neighbor, Jane, is a very nice lady. She's helped us with watching my cat, and I even borrowed a cup of sugar from her once (I felt so domestic - when do you ever hear of people borrowing a cup of sugar anymore?). I was very glad to be able to lend her a hand. She tries to dial, but she has a fake lense from where a cataract was removed, and after a moment I realized she couldn't see. I dialed AT&T, but she kept getting everything in Spanish. *Sigh* The coffee will have to wait. Mournfully I take the phone and call. Lo and behold, if you DON'T press one it stays in ENGLISH. Long story short (yeah, I know, I know) I manage to jump through their hoops but she can't get a tech until WEDNESDAY. This is her only phone - she doesn't have a cell phone. Not feeling good about this, I call back, and this time manage to wrangle an actual human. I explain that she is older ("Older - hell, I'm in my 80s" she retorts), this is her only phone, AND the $85 service charge for fixing something that is wrong on THEIR end doesn't seem fair, so could they lower the price some. Basically I end up in a phone conversation that we'd all agree can only happen to me. The guy says, "Well, since she came to your house for help, couldn't she just move in with you until her phone is fixed?" Ummmmm....I'm sorry? What?!?
I didn't yell - you'd be proud - but I was distinctly...erm...frustrated. I replied in the negative, and then he said, "Well, why don't we just sell her a cell phone plan." OK...fixed income...in her 80s...really, what's not to get here? More importantly, how does THAT fix the problem of her home phone? So I demand a manager. I get this lady who STARTS the conversation with, "Ma'am, I understand you are upset and have an issue you want to resolve, but you cannot abuse my staff like this, so let's watch your tone when talking to us." !?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? "Ma'am, I'm not abusing anyone, but when your staff's best suggestion for resolving a problem is having a neighbor move into my house or buy a cell phone despite her very limited monthly budget, I think you can agree that I might have a right to be frustrated." This said in a firm but not ugly tone. She says, "I agree that might not be the best of solutions, but it's not appropriate for you to yell at me." Oh honey...when I start yelling...trust me, you'll know...I demand HER supervisor, she tells me she doesn't have one, I ask if she owns AT&T, she says "no" in a puzzled tone, I demand her supervisor again, she insists she has to resolve this, I ask if this call is being recorded, she says "yes, more than likely," I say, "GOOD! Use it as a training call on how NOT to attempt to resolve issues! You've failed! GIVE ME YOUR SUPERVISOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
She gives me her supervisor. He listens to my semi-annoyed but polite retelling of the story, agrees to have a tech out tomorrow morning, agrees to give Jane a $20 credit for her troubles, agrees to waive the service fee, and says, "I have no CLUE why my people said those things, but you can guarantee there will be action on this!" Really? It took less than 5 minutes for his help. Jane thinks I'm insane because I finally DID start yelling, the babies are wailing in their bedroom, C is hovering around the doorway looking concerned, and I'm VERY annoyed!!! Caffeine. Please, oh please, caffeine... But fortunately, I can have a cup of coffee in peace now, right?
Ahahahaha!
Jane leaves. I get my coffee and plunk down on the couch to eat my cereal and decide our day. C creeps into the family room and begins hopping from foot to foot waiting for my attention. "Yes, honey," I sigh, "What can I do for you?" "Nothing, I just want to be near you." She practically wormed into my lap, gave a penetrating look to my cereal bowl, and said, "What's that, mommy?" For those of you who don't know, this is a prelude to her attempting to eat what's in my bowl, have another bowl of it, and then get me to cook her some more breakfast. This is my semi-expensive but doctor approved cereal which tastes like freaking cardboard but apparently must be really good because it's MINE. So I said, "You have already eaten breakfast, go clean your room and change clothes." Her eye-rolling, harrumphing, foot-stomping response told me I may not survive the teenage years. She's six. Don't I have four or five years before this becomes a reality?
OK...moving on. I got the babies up, fed them, showered, and decided, "Hey, let's go to North Point Mall to ride the carousel, have some pretzels, and play in the soft play area. It will be cheap, fun, and let the girls get some energy out." Yes, I knew it would be crowded and hectic, but I also knew it would be a real treat, and I might get something done when I got home while the girls crashed. But it was like they were doing their level best to punish me for trying to do something nice! I get the twins going the right direction, and C disappears. I find her (it's a three bedroom ranch - to where does she disappear?), and now - what the heck are the twins doing? B, where ARE your pants? A - put your shoes back on! C - OMG, where did that girl go again?!?
Finally I get them out the door, cursing my stupidity, to the mall, pause for a couple of minutes at the pressure-sensitive screen, and DRAG them bodily to the mall office where I find out....they no longer sell the $1 carousel coupons. It...I...uh...wha???? I'm not happy. I have $10. My day is timed out and based on this $10 which is to get us 3 coupons, pretzels, and a bottle of water. The Mall is denying my children their treat (yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm cheap! Deal with it). When I was a DINK, I never gave any thought to the carousel costing 2 bucks a pop. As a DIOK (I'll pause while you work it out...) it still seemed like a bargain. As a SITK (makes me sounds like I've changed religions) I am very cheap! Amazingly enough, I don't coupon very well primarily due to not being able to keep up with them, but if I can find a bargain I will! Now I have to choose between the carousel and the pretzel nuggets...and realize the pretzel nuggets ultimately have to win here...oh crap, I have to tell my kids. I filed a complaint in which I pointed out that to avoid the carousel I have to avoid the food court, so the merchants lose, too...feel free to go to the North Point Mall office and file a complaint, too.
I go out the door and look into the horrified eyes of my children. Horsey? Elephant? Mommy wouldn't REALLY deny us our favorite past time, would she? What will Ostrich do if the twins aren't there to ride her? My eldest timidly asks, "Are we going to ride the carousel?" The twins' eyes widen, breath held as they await my answer. "Well, honey," I reply, "I can't afford the carousel AND pretzels." "Oh that's OK!" she quickly exclaims, "We don't need to eat." Ummm, yeah, speak for yourself...and remember that AFTER the ride. I look at their hopeful faces, reevaluate my initial decision, and realize...yeah, they do need to eat, and ultimately these pretzels will bring a LOT more happiness. "NOOOOOOO!" twin A wails, falling prostrate as she realizes her beloved frog-with-a-duck-on-his-butt must forgo her visit today. "AAAAAAAGH!" twin B shouts, plopping to the ground in abject misery as she imagines her beloved horsey perishing from lack of a visit...Sweet C, who has up to this point gone out of her way to drive me completely insane today, looks at me, lower lip trembling, and says, "OK, Mommy, we understand. It's OK." Ohhhhh...that was the sound of my heart-strings being plucked...but I can't give in, even if I want to, because I can't let them think begging - oh, not the eyes....must...be...strong...
Dragging the twins BACK through the mall, we head to the Auntie Anne's pretzel store by the soft play area. Can I salvage ANY of this day at this point? I ask the girls to sit on the triangular tile around the three-columned supports. I turn back to see their heart broken faces - uh...oh, apparently we've forgotten our greek tragedy already. Pretzels come and are devoured, and we go to play. Oh joy! All is right with the world. I found advil and caffeine to quell the headache rising (you can buy a lot more with $10 than with $7), I found a table to sit at, and the girls are playing. For 20 blissful minutes I can sit, rest, and enjoy my kids...and then the twins are asking to leave and I'm trying NOT to strangle my 6 year old who is having a meltdown at having to leave the two little girls she's just met for the first time but she's SURE are her life-long BFFs! I drag them back to the car, lock everyone into place, and spend 25 minutes in one of the most ANNOYING drives home I've had in ages. Oh please oh please oh please oh please...let me get them home in one piece so I can put the twins down for a nap, install C in her room with the portable DVD player, and FINALLY find some peace in my day!!!!!!
We get home and I tell the girls "GO IN THE HOUSE RIGHT NOW!" They stand outside the van looking at each other and not moving. I turn back. "What exactly does RIGHT NOW mean to you?" I ask C. Apparently not much...She slowly starts shuffling towards the house, the twins in her wake. I'm digging around in the back to get cups, coats, etc. out of the car. I realize the girls are STILL on the driveway by the car, only 3 feet closer to the house. I pull my head back to chew them out - POW!!!! Slam the back of my head on the door...handle...thingy...where you hang your dry cleaning - you know - that...thing. All I want to do is scream every curse word I know and beat up the seat. How the heck could I do something so STUPID?!?!? But I can't. Why? The girls are STILL STANDING ON THE DRIVEWAY and little pitchers...big ears...ow ow owowowowowowow..."GO IN THE HOUSE!" I growl. They are off like shots. I get in the house, knowing I'm going to have a HUGE bump on the back of my head, and I think, "All I want right now is my MOMMY!" She's in Vegas, and I'm on my own.
I put the twins in their room and the phone rings. I am doomed to a life of not being able to have ANYTHING go my way...I go to answer it...It's my mom. She is calling from Vegas. She says, "I just had this feeling I really needed to call you right now." I love my mommy!! We spent over an hour on the phone. She assures me I'm a good mommy and a good girl, and that I have, indeed, had quite the rough day. It was a mental kiss on the forehead and a long-distance hug. It felt really good. While she and my dad talk to the girls, I can change clothes, grab a drink, and breath. I have such awesome parents. Even long-distance they can babysit my kids for a moment and give me a break.
*Sniffle, sniffle* *Whine* OK, go ahead - tell me how picked on I am!!
I'm a SAHM of three girls...for now. My first daughter is my Journalist: 9 going on 30. The twins are 4, off to PreK, and pushing every limit they can. Some moms are totally cut out for the stay at home life. Me? It varies on any given day. Staying sane is of primary importance, and this is one of my attempts at doing so! Please note: I only use my daughters’ initials in posts – who knows how long this stuff will be on the internet? Thank you for respecting my decision!!
Monday, January 16, 2012
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Medicine comes in all forms
We went to Publix today to get medication for one of my daughters. Twin A really seems to have this thing for chest colds. Takes after her mommy, I guess. So I'm waiting to drop off my prescription, and I see this lady pull away from the pharmacy counter with baby in her cart. She looks familiar. I turn back to the tech at the window, but my brain is still trying to place this woman. Then it hits me...
Last year about this time (because the twins have a thing for getting colds for Christmas) I was at this very same pharmacy picking up...probably the EXACT same medications, knowing twin A...I had all three girls with me. I go to pick up said medications, but the pharmacy is very busy, so we have to stand in line. The lady behind me is pregnant and glowing...probably having one of those pregnancies where she never got sick...I've read of those, never experienced it. She's humming and rubbing her belly until she notices my children. She starts out with the usual, "Twins?" We go through the normal exchange, including that our twins are spontaneous and not IVF, and then she says, "Three girls, huh? Are you going to try for a boy?"
Our standard response to this question is, "The first time we had one, the second time we had two...we DON'T WANT to know what happens the third time!" Most people laugh and back off. But my pregnant friend is clearly basking in the glow of creation, and feels it's her duty to propagate this joyous experience to the world. "Oh, come on!" she says, "Wouldn't triplets be fun?" Yeah, so's an unnecessary root canal...not saying triplets couldn't be fun (don't beat me, multiple mommy friends), but I already have the three, and my sanity hangs by tatters as is..."I just love being pregnant," she gushes. "I think having multiples would just be even MORE fun!"
I don't want to burst her...er...bubble here, but before I can respond, the gentleman standing behind her says, "You know, she's right - once you have multiples spontaneously, your chances for having multiples again goes up dramatically, especially if you are 35 or older." Sadly, I was only 34 at the time, but it's probably hard to tell the difference between 34 and 35 when someone looks very tired, so I can forgive him..."I say always quit when you are ahead!" he finishes.
Pregnant woman pauses for a moment, studying me. Get ready, folks..."Yeah, I guess if you are in your 40s..." Ummmm, excuse me, sweetie? He said 35, thank you very much. Ooooh, it's a good thing you are pregnant and therefore not in your right mind..."But still," she continues, enthusiasm returning, "I have a friend who had twins the first time, but she had one kid the second time." Yes, note the number of children there...2 plus 1...I'll wait...
The Gentleman chuckles, then says, "Trust me, it can happen."
Our little Pregnant friend: "Yeah, whatever. You should definitely try again. Seriously!! You should just go for it!!" What, here? Now? Should I just grab some random guy? Can I at least go home and get my DH first? Sorry, honey, peer pressure...
The Gentleman snorts, and says, "Oh, OK, well since you're the expert, she should just listen to you." I would not say such things if I were you...
SFX: *Click* And that was the sound of the switch that turns sweet little pregnant women into the raging hormonal beast... Rounding on him, she explodes, "What the hell would you know, huh? You're so smart!" She continues chewing him out for a moment, then, rage subsiding, spits out, "He's an idiot. What the hell would he know?"
Gentleman is taken aback, but recovers and smiles. Uh-oh...it ain't over, folks...He pulls out his wallet and says, "Here's a picture of my first grandchild." Flipping the wallet pics slowly, he says, "Oh, and here's a picture of my second and third grandchildren, the twins." He looks in this woman's face and smiles VERY broadly, then says, "And here is a picture of my FOURTH and FIFTH grandchildren, the other set of twins." Then he looks over at me and says, "Both sets are identicals." What was that whooshing sound? I believe that was the sound of my tubes tying themselves...
The Pregnant lady looks at the kids, then says, "Yeah, but how many kids do you have?"
Gentleman: "One."
Pregnant lady: "...Oh..."
Nonplussed, Pregnant lady pauses and considers her argument, then turns back to me. She snorts derisively, then says with considerably less confidence, "Well, so what. Don't let one moron ruin your decision." Thank you so much for your permission. I wasn't sure what to do, but now that I know I'm ALLOWED...The Pharmacist called her first - I think she wanted to just get her out of there.
Flashback to the present. The lady looked tired and considerably less chipper. A sick child (or just being sick) will do that to you. I said a quick mental prayer for her - hopefully she's doing well and so is her child. Sometimes babies really fight you when it comes to taking medication. Just remember "A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down!"
Last year about this time (because the twins have a thing for getting colds for Christmas) I was at this very same pharmacy picking up...probably the EXACT same medications, knowing twin A...I had all three girls with me. I go to pick up said medications, but the pharmacy is very busy, so we have to stand in line. The lady behind me is pregnant and glowing...probably having one of those pregnancies where she never got sick...I've read of those, never experienced it. She's humming and rubbing her belly until she notices my children. She starts out with the usual, "Twins?" We go through the normal exchange, including that our twins are spontaneous and not IVF, and then she says, "Three girls, huh? Are you going to try for a boy?"
Our standard response to this question is, "The first time we had one, the second time we had two...we DON'T WANT to know what happens the third time!" Most people laugh and back off. But my pregnant friend is clearly basking in the glow of creation, and feels it's her duty to propagate this joyous experience to the world. "Oh, come on!" she says, "Wouldn't triplets be fun?" Yeah, so's an unnecessary root canal...not saying triplets couldn't be fun (don't beat me, multiple mommy friends), but I already have the three, and my sanity hangs by tatters as is..."I just love being pregnant," she gushes. "I think having multiples would just be even MORE fun!"
I don't want to burst her...er...bubble here, but before I can respond, the gentleman standing behind her says, "You know, she's right - once you have multiples spontaneously, your chances for having multiples again goes up dramatically, especially if you are 35 or older." Sadly, I was only 34 at the time, but it's probably hard to tell the difference between 34 and 35 when someone looks very tired, so I can forgive him..."I say always quit when you are ahead!" he finishes.
Pregnant woman pauses for a moment, studying me. Get ready, folks..."Yeah, I guess if you are in your 40s..." Ummmm, excuse me, sweetie? He said 35, thank you very much. Ooooh, it's a good thing you are pregnant and therefore not in your right mind..."But still," she continues, enthusiasm returning, "I have a friend who had twins the first time, but she had one kid the second time." Yes, note the number of children there...2 plus 1...I'll wait...
The Gentleman chuckles, then says, "Trust me, it can happen."
Our little Pregnant friend: "Yeah, whatever. You should definitely try again. Seriously!! You should just go for it!!" What, here? Now? Should I just grab some random guy? Can I at least go home and get my DH first? Sorry, honey, peer pressure...
The Gentleman snorts, and says, "Oh, OK, well since you're the expert, she should just listen to you." I would not say such things if I were you...
SFX: *Click* And that was the sound of the switch that turns sweet little pregnant women into the raging hormonal beast... Rounding on him, she explodes, "What the hell would you know, huh? You're so smart!" She continues chewing him out for a moment, then, rage subsiding, spits out, "He's an idiot. What the hell would he know?"
Gentleman is taken aback, but recovers and smiles. Uh-oh...it ain't over, folks...He pulls out his wallet and says, "Here's a picture of my first grandchild." Flipping the wallet pics slowly, he says, "Oh, and here's a picture of my second and third grandchildren, the twins." He looks in this woman's face and smiles VERY broadly, then says, "And here is a picture of my FOURTH and FIFTH grandchildren, the other set of twins." Then he looks over at me and says, "Both sets are identicals." What was that whooshing sound? I believe that was the sound of my tubes tying themselves...
The Pregnant lady looks at the kids, then says, "Yeah, but how many kids do you have?"
Gentleman: "One."
Pregnant lady: "...Oh..."
Nonplussed, Pregnant lady pauses and considers her argument, then turns back to me. She snorts derisively, then says with considerably less confidence, "Well, so what. Don't let one moron ruin your decision." Thank you so much for your permission. I wasn't sure what to do, but now that I know I'm ALLOWED...The Pharmacist called her first - I think she wanted to just get her out of there.
Flashback to the present. The lady looked tired and considerably less chipper. A sick child (or just being sick) will do that to you. I said a quick mental prayer for her - hopefully she's doing well and so is her child. Sometimes babies really fight you when it comes to taking medication. Just remember "A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down!"
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Vet your child's wish to Santa!
We have a favorite Santa we love to see each year. He's awesome. In fact, he's the Santa who gave C the coin after the fireworks in the other story. However, tonight I was remembering another time we saw this Santa. A very fateful, and as it turns out, auspicious trip.
C was 3 1/2 years old, and it's a weekend in December. I had just found out a few days before I was pregnant, and we were pretty happy. We asked C what she wanted for Christmas, and she had a few ideas...I can't remember what, but they were pretty standard for a 3 year old. So we get to Santa, take the pic, and he says, "What would you like Santa to bring, little girl?" She ponders this a moment, silently contemplating a range of options, and says, "I really want....little sisters."
I'm sorry? Wha....You can see the shock and confusion on Santa's face. He's eyeing me sideways and sweating a bit. Seriously, how does he answer this? "Ummmm...well, that's not up to me...." So I step in to rescue Santa. "Don't worry, Santa, we've got that covered." I pat my belly. He looks relieved. "Well, little girl, we'll see what we can do, but I don't think any little sister or brother will come by Christmas."
"No, Santa, I want little sisterSSS," she says, stressing the "s." Little sisters? I look at my DH, he looks at me. Uhhh...hmmm...we didn't necessarily PLAN on having any more kids...So Santa hastily offers her a candy cane and shoves her off towards us. Can you blame the man? How the heck is he supposed to handle this? My DH and I aren't sure how to handle it!
It's January, the Monday night before I go in for my ultrasound. DH and I are excitedly discussing the baby (I was sure we were having a boy). He looks at me and says, "Heck, let's have twins! That way we'll have a big family and get it all over with." I'm sorry, who is this WE business, buddy? I'm the one who has to carry these. Twin boys? No way!! I am not sure if I can keep up with one!
So it's Tuesday morning, and we're off to the ultrasound. The tech looks at my belly and says, "You are kind of big for 10 weeks, you know." So I've gained weight! Thanks a lot! Don't you know you get bigger faster the second time around? I lay down, and look! There's the baby. Oh, so cute! We buzz around the little one. At 10 weeks we can't know the sex yet, but we can enjoy seeing our child look like...well...a child. Then she flips the wand to the other side...Startled, I blurt out, "Was that another head?!?"
DH looks at me, I look at him, blank mirrors of shock. The tech responds, "Yeah, didn't you know that? Why else would your uterus be so big at 10 weeks?" She sees our faces, and says, "Oh...ummm...yes, you're having twins..." GEEEAAAAAAGH!!! I tell friends and family. Everyone is overjoyed, except for one friend, who responds, "Holy S&%$!" THANK YOU!! That was exactly what I was thinking!!!
We come home and tell C the news. She calmly replies, "Of course you're having twins. I told Santa I wanted little sisterSSSS." By now we're starting to think again, and I say, "Sweetie, what if you are having little brothers? Or a sister and a brother." Smugly she returns to eating her snack. Hmmm...I'm just hoping she won't be disappointed. Over a couple of weeks I finally convince her to consider the possibility of at least one brother.
Two weeks later we're at the perinatalogist. Once again it's ultrasound time, but fortunately we're better prepared for what we're about to see. This time C is there, along with Gama. The pictures on the TV aren't very interesting to her, and she's more concerned about whether or not she'll get a sticker at the end of this. The tech says, "Do we want to know the sex?" At 12 weeks? Is that even possible? C says, "Yes, I want to know about my little sisters." The tech looks at her, stunned, looks at me, and says, "You already knew they were girls?" My jaw drops. C says, "Well, that's what I asked Santa to bring me, even if it was after Christmas."
"Are you sure they are girls?" I ask. "It's so early in the pregnancy." The tech points to the screen, indicating genitalia. "If they were boys, there would be something there," she replies. "Definitely girls." I look at my crestfallen DH. In a small voice, he asks, "But...what about my boy?" We all sit in silence, then tartly I respond, "Honey, when you can carry it, you can have whatever you want!"
So long story short, the point is this: Be VERY certain you know what your kids will ask of Santa for Christmas. He's a heck of a lot more powerful than you may realize!
Oh, and I'm taking my eldest to buy lottery tickets...
C was 3 1/2 years old, and it's a weekend in December. I had just found out a few days before I was pregnant, and we were pretty happy. We asked C what she wanted for Christmas, and she had a few ideas...I can't remember what, but they were pretty standard for a 3 year old. So we get to Santa, take the pic, and he says, "What would you like Santa to bring, little girl?" She ponders this a moment, silently contemplating a range of options, and says, "I really want....little sisters."
I'm sorry? Wha....You can see the shock and confusion on Santa's face. He's eyeing me sideways and sweating a bit. Seriously, how does he answer this? "Ummmm...well, that's not up to me...." So I step in to rescue Santa. "Don't worry, Santa, we've got that covered." I pat my belly. He looks relieved. "Well, little girl, we'll see what we can do, but I don't think any little sister or brother will come by Christmas."
"No, Santa, I want little sisterSSS," she says, stressing the "s." Little sisters? I look at my DH, he looks at me. Uhhh...hmmm...we didn't necessarily PLAN on having any more kids...So Santa hastily offers her a candy cane and shoves her off towards us. Can you blame the man? How the heck is he supposed to handle this? My DH and I aren't sure how to handle it!
It's January, the Monday night before I go in for my ultrasound. DH and I are excitedly discussing the baby (I was sure we were having a boy). He looks at me and says, "Heck, let's have twins! That way we'll have a big family and get it all over with." I'm sorry, who is this WE business, buddy? I'm the one who has to carry these. Twin boys? No way!! I am not sure if I can keep up with one!
So it's Tuesday morning, and we're off to the ultrasound. The tech looks at my belly and says, "You are kind of big for 10 weeks, you know." So I've gained weight! Thanks a lot! Don't you know you get bigger faster the second time around? I lay down, and look! There's the baby. Oh, so cute! We buzz around the little one. At 10 weeks we can't know the sex yet, but we can enjoy seeing our child look like...well...a child. Then she flips the wand to the other side...Startled, I blurt out, "Was that another head?!?"
DH looks at me, I look at him, blank mirrors of shock. The tech responds, "Yeah, didn't you know that? Why else would your uterus be so big at 10 weeks?" She sees our faces, and says, "Oh...ummm...yes, you're having twins..." GEEEAAAAAAGH!!! I tell friends and family. Everyone is overjoyed, except for one friend, who responds, "Holy S&%$!" THANK YOU!! That was exactly what I was thinking!!!
We come home and tell C the news. She calmly replies, "Of course you're having twins. I told Santa I wanted little sisterSSSS." By now we're starting to think again, and I say, "Sweetie, what if you are having little brothers? Or a sister and a brother." Smugly she returns to eating her snack. Hmmm...I'm just hoping she won't be disappointed. Over a couple of weeks I finally convince her to consider the possibility of at least one brother.
Two weeks later we're at the perinatalogist. Once again it's ultrasound time, but fortunately we're better prepared for what we're about to see. This time C is there, along with Gama. The pictures on the TV aren't very interesting to her, and she's more concerned about whether or not she'll get a sticker at the end of this. The tech says, "Do we want to know the sex?" At 12 weeks? Is that even possible? C says, "Yes, I want to know about my little sisters." The tech looks at her, stunned, looks at me, and says, "You already knew they were girls?" My jaw drops. C says, "Well, that's what I asked Santa to bring me, even if it was after Christmas."
"Are you sure they are girls?" I ask. "It's so early in the pregnancy." The tech points to the screen, indicating genitalia. "If they were boys, there would be something there," she replies. "Definitely girls." I look at my crestfallen DH. In a small voice, he asks, "But...what about my boy?" We all sit in silence, then tartly I respond, "Honey, when you can carry it, you can have whatever you want!"
So long story short, the point is this: Be VERY certain you know what your kids will ask of Santa for Christmas. He's a heck of a lot more powerful than you may realize!
Oh, and I'm taking my eldest to buy lottery tickets...
Friday, November 18, 2011
Guys may be guys, but BOYS can be idiots!
I have to get this off my chest because I was SO ANNOYED this morning!! I want to start by saying that when I'm talking about boys here, I'm not talking about the entire male gender. Nor am I talking about males who are toddlers, pre-adolescents, college age, etc. I'm talking about that subset and middle-aged males who REALLY shouldn't be breeding...you know whom I mean. Those guys who are 47, living at home, and whining because Mom won't let them put a FOURTH X-box in the living room....Definitely not smart enough to appreciate just how little responsibility they have, and how lucky they are that someone ELSE wipes their noses!
This morning C was participating in a Thanksgiving play written by and starring the kids in her enrichment group. They made their own costumes and props and did all their own research. I am so impressed with her first grade teacher! It was just a 3 minute play, but there was a lot of good knowledge in there! Her teacher has created a very student-centered, technology rich classroom, and I must say she's very inspiring to me!! The kids love her, too.
C also wrote an original joke that she was to read on their school news program, so I had to get her in early to be on time. (Her joke: How does a turkey get into his house? By using the "key" in his name - Tur-KEY!) So I dropped her off and decided to head to Starbucks to relax in the intervening 30 minutes. Can I tell you the last time I've done anything like this? DH stayed home to sleep in and watch the twins until I returned, so I knew I could have some time to relax. I take my gift card and buy one of those protein meals (which are really good) and a skinny coffee, and sit down in a comfy chair to relax. It's about 7:25, so I have 15 minutes.
To the left of me are a group of four middle-aged "boys" (see above definition). At first they are talking about God, and how He called families to have at least one parent at home with the kids, because the women who work are destroying America. Yeah, 'cause there are no families out there with two working parents just to make ends meet. Of course women work just 'cause they are trying to destroy American society! Then one guy says, "I mean, I made a CHOICE to stay home with the nanny because I wanted my kids to have ONE parent at home. I wanted my wife to do it, but since she's an ATTORNEY she refused."
...Uh...ummm...I'm sorry? Did you say NANNY? You stay at home with the NANNY?!?!? Because your wife is an ATTORNEY and can afford to have you stay at home AND have a NANNY?!? What the????? I want a nanny!! Can I stay at home with a nanny? How the heck is that parenting? And more importantly, how do you think that your wife got that high powered job? Clearly women's lib is totally destroying this poor man's life!
The conversation continues in this vein about how these men chose to stay at home with their nannies because this is God's mandate (which book of the Bible, exactly?). Then one guy sniffs, looks around at the rest of the patrons (some men, some women), and says, "Perhaps if they'd stop buying these fancy lattes they would have the money to stay home." Dude, you nailed it. It's clearly the love of fancy lattes that is driving women's lib and destroying this country's morals. Now, you just go back to your pastry (which is SO manly) and venti coffee drink (oh, wipe the whipped cream off your nose, sweetie), and please tell us what else is ailing this world...
These pasty, pudgy, combed-over middle-aged boys...what do you think they do all day? Obviously they are home for their kids (oh, except for now, when they are at Starbucks piously invoking the Lord's name while bashing women and whining about how they are only allowed ONE Maserati...). My DH thinks I'm being unfair. Every man deserves a chance to sit around all day and watch all of those classic football games he's heard about but ever seen! Not to mention, do you have any idea how difficult it is to work AND watch soap operas? He does agree men should get behind women having very high powered, fancy jobs. He's even offering to stay at home while I become a VP...he said he'll handle the nanny applications...I don't know...perhaps I'm wrong to judge.
At this point my time is up and I have to pop back over to the school to watch C's play. As I get up to go, one guy says, "Oh, hey, I have to be home by 9:00 today." Another guy goes, "Yeah, I have to leave early, too." So let me get this straight, you sit here for 90 minutes in the morning? You poor things!! I left these tragic, troubled souls munching sadly on their pastries as I headed out to spend 10 minutes fighting traffic to go less than a mile. Oh, the humanity!
On another note, I'd like to take a moment to say how lucky I am to have so amazing a husband! He takes responsibility for himself and his family, he gives me time off to see my daughter's play, and he is a REAL MAN!
This morning C was participating in a Thanksgiving play written by and starring the kids in her enrichment group. They made their own costumes and props and did all their own research. I am so impressed with her first grade teacher! It was just a 3 minute play, but there was a lot of good knowledge in there! Her teacher has created a very student-centered, technology rich classroom, and I must say she's very inspiring to me!! The kids love her, too.
C also wrote an original joke that she was to read on their school news program, so I had to get her in early to be on time. (Her joke: How does a turkey get into his house? By using the "key" in his name - Tur-KEY!) So I dropped her off and decided to head to Starbucks to relax in the intervening 30 minutes. Can I tell you the last time I've done anything like this? DH stayed home to sleep in and watch the twins until I returned, so I knew I could have some time to relax. I take my gift card and buy one of those protein meals (which are really good) and a skinny coffee, and sit down in a comfy chair to relax. It's about 7:25, so I have 15 minutes.
To the left of me are a group of four middle-aged "boys" (see above definition). At first they are talking about God, and how He called families to have at least one parent at home with the kids, because the women who work are destroying America. Yeah, 'cause there are no families out there with two working parents just to make ends meet. Of course women work just 'cause they are trying to destroy American society! Then one guy says, "I mean, I made a CHOICE to stay home with the nanny because I wanted my kids to have ONE parent at home. I wanted my wife to do it, but since she's an ATTORNEY she refused."
...Uh...ummm...I'm sorry? Did you say NANNY? You stay at home with the NANNY?!?!? Because your wife is an ATTORNEY and can afford to have you stay at home AND have a NANNY?!? What the????? I want a nanny!! Can I stay at home with a nanny? How the heck is that parenting? And more importantly, how do you think that your wife got that high powered job? Clearly women's lib is totally destroying this poor man's life!
The conversation continues in this vein about how these men chose to stay at home with their nannies because this is God's mandate (which book of the Bible, exactly?). Then one guy sniffs, looks around at the rest of the patrons (some men, some women), and says, "Perhaps if they'd stop buying these fancy lattes they would have the money to stay home." Dude, you nailed it. It's clearly the love of fancy lattes that is driving women's lib and destroying this country's morals. Now, you just go back to your pastry (which is SO manly) and venti coffee drink (oh, wipe the whipped cream off your nose, sweetie), and please tell us what else is ailing this world...
These pasty, pudgy, combed-over middle-aged boys...what do you think they do all day? Obviously they are home for their kids (oh, except for now, when they are at Starbucks piously invoking the Lord's name while bashing women and whining about how they are only allowed ONE Maserati...). My DH thinks I'm being unfair. Every man deserves a chance to sit around all day and watch all of those classic football games he's heard about but ever seen! Not to mention, do you have any idea how difficult it is to work AND watch soap operas? He does agree men should get behind women having very high powered, fancy jobs. He's even offering to stay at home while I become a VP...he said he'll handle the nanny applications...I don't know...perhaps I'm wrong to judge.
At this point my time is up and I have to pop back over to the school to watch C's play. As I get up to go, one guy says, "Oh, hey, I have to be home by 9:00 today." Another guy goes, "Yeah, I have to leave early, too." So let me get this straight, you sit here for 90 minutes in the morning? You poor things!! I left these tragic, troubled souls munching sadly on their pastries as I headed out to spend 10 minutes fighting traffic to go less than a mile. Oh, the humanity!
On another note, I'd like to take a moment to say how lucky I am to have so amazing a husband! He takes responsibility for himself and his family, he gives me time off to see my daughter's play, and he is a REAL MAN!
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
MEA CULPA!!!
We've all done this, right? You and a number of family members and friends get an email from family member A. This email is meant to inform you of a potential scam or theft, and is sent because family member A cares about you. In this case, the email regards the possibility of cashiers at stores like Walmart stealing money by claiming you requested cash back, but not giving you the cash back. You read the email, and say, "This looks like a hoax." So you check snopes.com and discover, yep, it's a hoax. You love your family, and don't want them to have more anxiety than necessary in this crazy, mad world. So you send out an email to let everyone know that fortunately in this case there's no need for concern. In my case, the email sent out to my family and friends looked like this:
"FYI: This is impossible. The only way you can get cash back is by inputting that request yourself. Cashiers cannot initiate this - it's a safety. http://www.snopes.com/fraud/atm/cashback.asp
Not that checking your receipts is a bad idea, or anything!"
Thinking you've now performed your public service, you go about your merry way. But family member B reads this and lets you know that family member A's feelings might be hurt to have her email so publicly corrected. You don't want to hurt anyone's feelings, especially since both are doing this out of a sense of love. So you send an apology. But you can't just write ANYTHING. You have to be careful. You can't offend the offended family member by flippantly apologizing, or writing anything that could look flippant, because you are sincere in your desire not to offend...so you carefully craft an apology to let everyone know that you really don't want to upset anyone. Mine looked like this:
"My apologies to all if the initial email response I sent sounded rude or curt. I assure you I did not mean to be so. I know that there are so many concerns about theft, and I was trying to reassure everyone that this is a scam. I don't get to spend much time online these days, so I spend my evenings trying to shoot through my emails as fast as possible. If I offended anyone with my words, please forgive me. Chasing after three kids kind of crimps my internet time! Much love to you all!"
In most normal worlds, this is the end of it, right? HAHAHAHAHAHA! Have you MET us? Here in follows the email conversation. Names have been changed to protect the (somewhat) innocent:
First reply (from someone who lives in my house and is the only person of the opposite gender in my house) we'll call Guy 1:
"I would like to apologize if anyone thought I was upset at Colleen's original email.
I also apologize for leaving my socks on the living room floor.
I feel better now.
NEXT!
Bueller? Bueller? Anyone?"
Next reply from another person we'll call Guy I've known all my life:
"FYI: This is impossible. The only way you can get cash back is by inputting that request yourself. Cashiers cannot initiate this - it's a safety. http://www.snopes.com/fraud/atm/cashback.asp
Not that checking your receipts is a bad idea, or anything!"
Thinking you've now performed your public service, you go about your merry way. But family member B reads this and lets you know that family member A's feelings might be hurt to have her email so publicly corrected. You don't want to hurt anyone's feelings, especially since both are doing this out of a sense of love. So you send an apology. But you can't just write ANYTHING. You have to be careful. You can't offend the offended family member by flippantly apologizing, or writing anything that could look flippant, because you are sincere in your desire not to offend...so you carefully craft an apology to let everyone know that you really don't want to upset anyone. Mine looked like this:
"My apologies to all if the initial email response I sent sounded rude or curt. I assure you I did not mean to be so. I know that there are so many concerns about theft, and I was trying to reassure everyone that this is a scam. I don't get to spend much time online these days, so I spend my evenings trying to shoot through my emails as fast as possible. If I offended anyone with my words, please forgive me. Chasing after three kids kind of crimps my internet time! Much love to you all!"
In most normal worlds, this is the end of it, right? HAHAHAHAHAHA! Have you MET us? Here in follows the email conversation. Names have been changed to protect the (somewhat) innocent:
First reply (from someone who lives in my house and is the only person of the opposite gender in my house) we'll call Guy 1:
"I would like to apologize if anyone thought I was upset at Colleen's original email.
I also apologize for leaving my socks on the living room floor.
I feel better now.
NEXT!
Bueller? Bueller? Anyone?"
Next reply from another person we'll call Guy I've known all my life:
"Well I apologize for getting upset, I was thinking this would be the perfect way for me to transition into retirement by working at Wal-Mart as a cashier and being able to generate enough tax free income to truly retire. Darn another perfectly good plan down the tube socks."
Next reply from another recipient we'll call Winner of Best response:
"Well! What a fire-storm! I was offended by all of you. Don't send me any more of these e-mails, ever and I mean ever. My time is much too precious to be spending it reading all these emails. And now I'm worried about every transaction I make at every store I go to and I'm under so much pressure from these warnings and you know, there are other things out there to be afraid of. Like spiders and snakes. and ...what are those little bugs that have those pinchers...they look like small lobsters...yes, stay away from them too!
So glad to be included in this nonsense. Love y'all"
So glad to be included in this nonsense. Love y'all"
Last reply from person we'll call Guy I've known all HIS life:
"The person responsible for sacking the person who has offended the group has been sacked. Thank you.
--Management"
OK...crap...now what? After laughing your butt off, what do you do? I mean, you really didn't mean to offend any family members (and the good news is for the record no one was offended - this has become a fun family joke). But at the same time...I mean, did you READ the email thread? So here's where I decided to go in the end:
"AAAAAAAAUGH!! There are insects with little pinchers out there stealing my money from Walmart and stuffing it down people's tube socks?!? I can't deal with all of this - no more emails!
To [Winner of Best response]: YOU are hilarious! Thank goodness you've been fired!"
Oh your family and friends are NUTS but you love them!!!
Monday, November 7, 2011
People can really be amazing...
Today I went to the grocery store with my girls. It was one of those days that reminds you that people can just be amazing...and not in the good sense. No worries, I'm still a believer in the goodness of humankind. But it's one of those days that leaves you shaking your head and thinking, "Just how fast can I get home?..."
I went to the Publix by my house. It's our "home" grocery store. Everyone in there knows us (and if you read my "plumber" article, you know they may know more of me than I wish...). The produce manager regularly comes out with sliced produce for the girls. The sample lady always gives me a little plate to feed the girls. The pharmacist and her assistants are always so excited to see us - unless we're picking up antibiotics or something, and then they are always very kind and sympathetic. It's our favorite store.
I'm sure it will come as a great shock to learn I'm a creature of habit (please, I'll wait until you can breathe again...) I always pull into the same row and then back down the next row to park in pretty much the same area. Today, as I'm pulling into the first row, this lady just suddenly shoots backwards with no warning. It's not her fault, she can't see me. However, today I've got this jerk on my tail who simply has to get... SOMETHING from the store RIGHT NOW!!! So I nearly get rear-ended. The lovely person behind me starts blowing on his horn. The lady in front of me (who's got a couple decades on me) freezes. She doesn't pull into her space. She doesn't continue backing up. Her hands alternate between flying up to her face and back to her wheel. Jerk continues honking. Lady in front starts CRYING. My girls start CRYING. Oh crap, this shopping trip has dissolved before it began...then the lady looks at me. RIGHT AT ME. She flips me off. Seriously? I'm trying to be patient with two crying girls in the car, and you are going to flip ME off? Then she finishes backing out and leaves. You can already tell what a good trip this is going to be, huh?
I pull around to my usual spot. The guy takes her spot. Of course, HIS tag doesn't have a handicapped sticker on it, but why should HE be held to the rules the rest of us must follow? After all, we are but sheep, and he's...OK, moving on. So we walk into the store. Just as we walk into the first set of double doors, a lady and her child walk through the store double doors, so we're facing each other. The woman has one child, probably around three, and I have the twins. There's one double shopping care left...you know, the kinds that's designed like a race car with the little steering wheels. As any mom with two kids of same or similar age knows, you take the double cart when you have more than one child because it's the ONLY cart that fits MORE THAN ONE CHILD. And how many does she have? (No peeking, you should have been paying attention! Bad reader!). So I say, "Do you mind if I grab the double there? I can't fit both twins and my groceries into a regular cart." She looks me up and down and says, "Yeah, I do, I've got stuff to do, and I don't need her fussing." She grabs the cart and walks off. Uh...OK, yeah, see, this is a physics problem, and two objects of mass cannot occupy the same space at the same time...
So we head back out so I can scour the parking lot for a potential cart. I know there's a lot of people there, but I've never come when there wasn't at least ONE cart I could use. There! In the back left...WA-A-A-AY in the back left...Eureeka! I heft one girl on each arm and bust my butt to get out there. Gasping and wheezing, I shovel each girl into her seat. Good lord, are they using this parking lot for a football field in their spare time? I swear it got longer with every step! What am I feeding these girls? I digress...
We rumble back into the grocery store. At least the noise and vibration of the cart going over the asphalt never fails to make them smile! Now we're in a better mood (I need a shower) and ready to shop. We head over to the pharmacy to get our prescriptions (and ego boosts). "All better," as the girls would say! The shopping goes about like normal. About 2/3 of the way through, the girls are alternating saying, "All done, Mommy? All done? ALL DONE?!?" Finally, I can say, "YES! We're all done. Let's go pay."
So I get into a ridiculously long line behind these two moms. Each mom has a child...why, yes, one looks just like...oh, say hello to my lovely friend from the cart incident! We'll call her Cart-Grabber for short. So she and the mom in front of her are having a "mompetition." You know - one of those "conversations" that's really a one-upsmanshp for "My mommy-ing if far superior to your mommy-ing." So I'm listening (and snickering). Here's a summary of the transcript:
Unknown mommy (using "I'm being so kind to explain this to a total simpleton voice"): First you need to wash the fruit, then you cut it in half. But you don't want to transfer the pesticides all throughout the fruit, so you discard THAT knife and get another one to finish cutting the fruit into pieces. (My thought: I'm sorry, exactly how did you NOT transfer pesticides in the first cut?....)
Cart-Grabber (using her "You are a total moron but I'll suffer through this to show that I can bestow charity on the less fortunate" voice): Oh, well, I suppose that's well and good, but if you use a fruit wash to take the pesticides off in the first place, you've solved the problem. (My thought: With a mom like you, I think pesticides are the least of the problem...)
Unknown: Yes, but only if you aren't worried about the fats and sugars the wash transfers to the fruit. I wouldn't want my little sweetie gaining weight! (My thought: ?!?!?!? Have you ever read the label?!?)
Cart-Grabber (Sensing blood): My child won't be gaining weight, because I monitor her fat intake VERY carefully. (No wonder that woman is such a ______ - give her a chocolate bar, stat! The kid, too. The kid is what, three? And a certain amount of fat is needed for normal bodily functions!)
Unknown (triumphantly, as she's about to trounce the mompetition): Well, since we're vegetarians, we don't have to worry about anything like that! ('Cause there's no meat-eater in the world who could be healthy! You know, like all of those meat-eating Olympians...clearly riddled with unhealth!)
(Side note: I'm not making fun of vegetarians at all, just this charmer. You all have the right to decide what you eat, just like me. Now pass me a cheeseburger and no one gets hurt!)
At this point, both children begin to whine. Unknown and Cart-Grabber reach into their diaper bags and pull out drinks and snacks. I'd like to say before we go any further I am NOT making this up!! Unknown gives her kid a water. Child throws water on floor. Unknown says, "What do you want, sweetie?" Sweetie wails. Unknown reaches back into bag and pulls out one of those little blue drinks in a barrel. You know, the ones FULL of SUGAR?!? She puts it into a sippy cup and Sweetie begins sipping happily. Meanwhile, Cart-Grabber pulls out (again, I SWEAR this is the truth) a half-full diet coke, pours some into a sippy, and hands it to Little Darling. She also gives her a package of those 100 calorie cookies?!? Let me get this straight, you monitor fat, but NOT sugar?!? And I'm not vegetarian, so I don't know if those little barrel drinks would fit in that type of regimen, but again...IT'S ALL SUGAR!!!! There's NOTHING redeeming about those. You give them to your child at a birthday party, or a special occasion, not in PUBLIX because you're stuck in LINE! You do understand what happens to sugar in your body when you eat too much, right?
Unknown begins checking out. Cart-Grabber turns around and sees me. She gives me a superior smile and says, "Can you believe that woman? As if vegetarians don't have to worry about fat!" Then she looks my girls up and down and says, "You might want to consider monitoring your children's food intake." I just shook my head and began scolding the twins who were a little too close to the flowers at this point and wanted to "pick some for mommy"...(admirable thought, ladies, but not in the budget). Yes, I'm so glad you are monitoring their pesticide intake, ladies. That way they can live a very long life treating their TYPE-II DIABETES or other sugar-related illness!!!
Oh yes, people can really be amazing!
I went to the Publix by my house. It's our "home" grocery store. Everyone in there knows us (and if you read my "plumber" article, you know they may know more of me than I wish...). The produce manager regularly comes out with sliced produce for the girls. The sample lady always gives me a little plate to feed the girls. The pharmacist and her assistants are always so excited to see us - unless we're picking up antibiotics or something, and then they are always very kind and sympathetic. It's our favorite store.
I'm sure it will come as a great shock to learn I'm a creature of habit (please, I'll wait until you can breathe again...) I always pull into the same row and then back down the next row to park in pretty much the same area. Today, as I'm pulling into the first row, this lady just suddenly shoots backwards with no warning. It's not her fault, she can't see me. However, today I've got this jerk on my tail who simply has to get... SOMETHING from the store RIGHT NOW!!! So I nearly get rear-ended. The lovely person behind me starts blowing on his horn. The lady in front of me (who's got a couple decades on me) freezes. She doesn't pull into her space. She doesn't continue backing up. Her hands alternate between flying up to her face and back to her wheel. Jerk continues honking. Lady in front starts CRYING. My girls start CRYING. Oh crap, this shopping trip has dissolved before it began...then the lady looks at me. RIGHT AT ME. She flips me off. Seriously? I'm trying to be patient with two crying girls in the car, and you are going to flip ME off? Then she finishes backing out and leaves. You can already tell what a good trip this is going to be, huh?
I pull around to my usual spot. The guy takes her spot. Of course, HIS tag doesn't have a handicapped sticker on it, but why should HE be held to the rules the rest of us must follow? After all, we are but sheep, and he's...OK, moving on. So we walk into the store. Just as we walk into the first set of double doors, a lady and her child walk through the store double doors, so we're facing each other. The woman has one child, probably around three, and I have the twins. There's one double shopping care left...you know, the kinds that's designed like a race car with the little steering wheels. As any mom with two kids of same or similar age knows, you take the double cart when you have more than one child because it's the ONLY cart that fits MORE THAN ONE CHILD. And how many does she have? (No peeking, you should have been paying attention! Bad reader!). So I say, "Do you mind if I grab the double there? I can't fit both twins and my groceries into a regular cart." She looks me up and down and says, "Yeah, I do, I've got stuff to do, and I don't need her fussing." She grabs the cart and walks off. Uh...OK, yeah, see, this is a physics problem, and two objects of mass cannot occupy the same space at the same time...
So we head back out so I can scour the parking lot for a potential cart. I know there's a lot of people there, but I've never come when there wasn't at least ONE cart I could use. There! In the back left...WA-A-A-AY in the back left...Eureeka! I heft one girl on each arm and bust my butt to get out there. Gasping and wheezing, I shovel each girl into her seat. Good lord, are they using this parking lot for a football field in their spare time? I swear it got longer with every step! What am I feeding these girls? I digress...
We rumble back into the grocery store. At least the noise and vibration of the cart going over the asphalt never fails to make them smile! Now we're in a better mood (I need a shower) and ready to shop. We head over to the pharmacy to get our prescriptions (and ego boosts). "All better," as the girls would say! The shopping goes about like normal. About 2/3 of the way through, the girls are alternating saying, "All done, Mommy? All done? ALL DONE?!?" Finally, I can say, "YES! We're all done. Let's go pay."
So I get into a ridiculously long line behind these two moms. Each mom has a child...why, yes, one looks just like...oh, say hello to my lovely friend from the cart incident! We'll call her Cart-Grabber for short. So she and the mom in front of her are having a "mompetition." You know - one of those "conversations" that's really a one-upsmanshp for "My mommy-ing if far superior to your mommy-ing." So I'm listening (and snickering). Here's a summary of the transcript:
Unknown mommy (using "I'm being so kind to explain this to a total simpleton voice"): First you need to wash the fruit, then you cut it in half. But you don't want to transfer the pesticides all throughout the fruit, so you discard THAT knife and get another one to finish cutting the fruit into pieces. (My thought: I'm sorry, exactly how did you NOT transfer pesticides in the first cut?....)
Cart-Grabber (using her "You are a total moron but I'll suffer through this to show that I can bestow charity on the less fortunate" voice): Oh, well, I suppose that's well and good, but if you use a fruit wash to take the pesticides off in the first place, you've solved the problem. (My thought: With a mom like you, I think pesticides are the least of the problem...)
Unknown: Yes, but only if you aren't worried about the fats and sugars the wash transfers to the fruit. I wouldn't want my little sweetie gaining weight! (My thought: ?!?!?!? Have you ever read the label?!?)
Cart-Grabber (Sensing blood): My child won't be gaining weight, because I monitor her fat intake VERY carefully. (No wonder that woman is such a ______ - give her a chocolate bar, stat! The kid, too. The kid is what, three? And a certain amount of fat is needed for normal bodily functions!)
Unknown (triumphantly, as she's about to trounce the mompetition): Well, since we're vegetarians, we don't have to worry about anything like that! ('Cause there's no meat-eater in the world who could be healthy! You know, like all of those meat-eating Olympians...clearly riddled with unhealth!)
(Side note: I'm not making fun of vegetarians at all, just this charmer. You all have the right to decide what you eat, just like me. Now pass me a cheeseburger and no one gets hurt!)
At this point, both children begin to whine. Unknown and Cart-Grabber reach into their diaper bags and pull out drinks and snacks. I'd like to say before we go any further I am NOT making this up!! Unknown gives her kid a water. Child throws water on floor. Unknown says, "What do you want, sweetie?" Sweetie wails. Unknown reaches back into bag and pulls out one of those little blue drinks in a barrel. You know, the ones FULL of SUGAR?!? She puts it into a sippy cup and Sweetie begins sipping happily. Meanwhile, Cart-Grabber pulls out (again, I SWEAR this is the truth) a half-full diet coke, pours some into a sippy, and hands it to Little Darling. She also gives her a package of those 100 calorie cookies?!? Let me get this straight, you monitor fat, but NOT sugar?!? And I'm not vegetarian, so I don't know if those little barrel drinks would fit in that type of regimen, but again...IT'S ALL SUGAR!!!! There's NOTHING redeeming about those. You give them to your child at a birthday party, or a special occasion, not in PUBLIX because you're stuck in LINE! You do understand what happens to sugar in your body when you eat too much, right?
Unknown begins checking out. Cart-Grabber turns around and sees me. She gives me a superior smile and says, "Can you believe that woman? As if vegetarians don't have to worry about fat!" Then she looks my girls up and down and says, "You might want to consider monitoring your children's food intake." I just shook my head and began scolding the twins who were a little too close to the flowers at this point and wanted to "pick some for mommy"...(admirable thought, ladies, but not in the budget). Yes, I'm so glad you are monitoring their pesticide intake, ladies. That way they can live a very long life treating their TYPE-II DIABETES or other sugar-related illness!!!
Oh yes, people can really be amazing!
Thursday, October 20, 2011
My next career: plumber?
OK, parents, we've all done it. You aren't sure if your kid needs a diaper change, but you want to check. So what do you do? Grab the back of the diaper and the waist band of the pants, pull it out slightly, and see what's there...
Lately grocery shopping has become REALLY challenging with the twins. Well, frankly, they are 2, so EVERYTHING has become challenging. The girls refuse to ride in the cart. No, no, they want to PUSH the cart. It's actually pretty funny. They are strong enough, especially together, that they can even get the carts moving in Costco, and those are some HEAVY carts. The problem is steering. When you can't see over the top of the cart, it's kind of hard to know where you are going.
Here's how we make it work. I put each girl in her backpack (Mastermind Monkey [B] and the Squealing Pig [A]). I put one on my left and one on my right, and I push from the middle. Actually, I mostly just steer. Well, if they are going to insist on pushing, who am I to deny them the chance to exhaust themselves? It works pretty well until they decide they need to switch places. That's kind of an ordeal involving the detangling of leashes. But it works pretty well.
Incidentally, as I've mentioned before, we are PRETTY well known in the grocery stores around here. When we come in, we're watched constantly. Not for fear of shoplifting (see the Walmart story), but because they really are some serious cuties. It's not unusual for me to turn around and find an employee standing behind us, or near us, just watching the twins. Everyone is very nice, and after two years I'm used to it, so I never think much of it.
So we're shopping, and mommy needs something from the bottom of the shelf. So I tell the girls, "DO NOT let go of the cart," crouch down, and proceed to get the item. Suddenly, I feel four little hands on the waist line of my pants. "Change diaper?" two little voices chirp. OH CRAP! I nearly moon some poor Publix stocker who is standing behind us. And these were my high-waisted jeans. I attempt to stand up and simultaneously whip around so as not to offend said employee. I move so fast that their little hands get caught in my waist band. Their little feet fly out in a circle and we succeed in knocking nearly every can off of the shelf. Fortunately these are really good jeans, as the fabric did NOT rip under the duress. Meanwhile, I check out the employee. He's howling. I mean seriously, the poor guy can't breath!
He sends me off, assuring me that he can get this all cleaned up. I've probably just made this guy's day, when you think about it. NO, not because of the view. Well, perhaps the view of two little girls flying in a half circle...and I'm sure my face was a picture. Yeah, I'm pretty sure this trip is over. So I go up to the front. I'm standing in line for this guy who is normally very taciturn, but an excellent cashier. Apparently today is no exception. My items are rung up and bagged. I am waiting for my transaction to go through. He's totally silent, like usual. I reach out for my receipt, and he looks me straight in the eye, and says, "Crack kills, ma'am."
Lately grocery shopping has become REALLY challenging with the twins. Well, frankly, they are 2, so EVERYTHING has become challenging. The girls refuse to ride in the cart. No, no, they want to PUSH the cart. It's actually pretty funny. They are strong enough, especially together, that they can even get the carts moving in Costco, and those are some HEAVY carts. The problem is steering. When you can't see over the top of the cart, it's kind of hard to know where you are going.
Here's how we make it work. I put each girl in her backpack (Mastermind Monkey [B] and the Squealing Pig [A]). I put one on my left and one on my right, and I push from the middle. Actually, I mostly just steer. Well, if they are going to insist on pushing, who am I to deny them the chance to exhaust themselves? It works pretty well until they decide they need to switch places. That's kind of an ordeal involving the detangling of leashes. But it works pretty well.
Incidentally, as I've mentioned before, we are PRETTY well known in the grocery stores around here. When we come in, we're watched constantly. Not for fear of shoplifting (see the Walmart story), but because they really are some serious cuties. It's not unusual for me to turn around and find an employee standing behind us, or near us, just watching the twins. Everyone is very nice, and after two years I'm used to it, so I never think much of it.
So we're shopping, and mommy needs something from the bottom of the shelf. So I tell the girls, "DO NOT let go of the cart," crouch down, and proceed to get the item. Suddenly, I feel four little hands on the waist line of my pants. "Change diaper?" two little voices chirp. OH CRAP! I nearly moon some poor Publix stocker who is standing behind us. And these were my high-waisted jeans. I attempt to stand up and simultaneously whip around so as not to offend said employee. I move so fast that their little hands get caught in my waist band. Their little feet fly out in a circle and we succeed in knocking nearly every can off of the shelf. Fortunately these are really good jeans, as the fabric did NOT rip under the duress. Meanwhile, I check out the employee. He's howling. I mean seriously, the poor guy can't breath!
He sends me off, assuring me that he can get this all cleaned up. I've probably just made this guy's day, when you think about it. NO, not because of the view. Well, perhaps the view of two little girls flying in a half circle...and I'm sure my face was a picture. Yeah, I'm pretty sure this trip is over. So I go up to the front. I'm standing in line for this guy who is normally very taciturn, but an excellent cashier. Apparently today is no exception. My items are rung up and bagged. I am waiting for my transaction to go through. He's totally silent, like usual. I reach out for my receipt, and he looks me straight in the eye, and says, "Crack kills, ma'am."
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