I'm not a big fan of the Chocolate Holidays, and I'll tell you why. They incite devious, sneaky, lying behavior at my house. Let's start with Halloween, for example. The kids dress up in overpriced pieces of stretchy nylon, hit the streets in the dark - armed with a plastic pumpkin head and a flashlight (both deadly weapons), and beg (very noble practice) for candy. They come home, we deal out the treasures, and make up arbitrary rules like: "Only one piece a day." First of all, it never works out that way, and second, if I have done the math right, we will all be eating candy that gets harder and chewier with every passing day, and will finally be inedible by the time we get to the last piece on February 13th.
But, hey, we're in luck! February 14th is the official start of the next Chocolate Holiday! This stash is much more cluttered and complicated though. The kids have to actually write something on a small piece of paper, tape on a tiny, tape-able piece of candy, and then address it to each one of their classmates. Plus, when they bring home their cache, it has to be separated from tattoos, tape, gum wrappers, and other bits of Valentiny paraphernalia before they can even hork it down. Much harder.
Not to worry. The grand-daddy of them all and the official end to the season of chocolate is just around the corner - Easter! To begin with, I stuff plastic eggs full of candy for the Easter Bunny to hide, and then indulge the Easter Bunny to leave additional trinkets and chocolate candy in a basket. Then I make them hunt for their goodies in the morning - making these chocolate treasures just that much more "valuable." Not only have I taught them that hiding candy is good, but I have also given them a plethora of sneaky spots for future hiding. It's all my fault.
So I guess I just have myself to blame for this morning's escapades. As I was getting ready for the day, assuming that both children were still slumbering peacefully in their beds, I heard a noise from the kitchen downstairs. It sounded a little like a sack of marbles dropping and then rolling about randomly across the hardwood floor. But upon closer auditory inspection, it sounded exactly like several plastic Easter eggs crashing open on to the kitchen floor, spilling out scads of jelly beans, robin eggs, and Cadbury mini eggs - accompanied by frantic bare feet hopping from pillar to post, scooping up the runaway candy. Hmmm... I can't quite remember now... did I put jellybeans and toast or Peeps and peanut butter eggs with milk on the breakfast menu ... and some little person was just helping to prepare the prescribed breakfast to surprise me?
By the time I entered the kitchen, life seemed just as normal as possible. Two children in their jammies just casually, innocently eating breakfast and writing their spelling words (rather quietly and diligently). I must have been hearing things. Surely these two Heaven-sent children could not have possibly been involved in some sort of a candy heist - right? I pretended to be completely without suspicion and gave them their usual morning hugs and kisses. We continued this charade for a few more minutes until something went terribly wrong. As one of them stood up to get more milk, I heard a peculiar, but recognizable sound. Then the mad scramble to cover up the crime was underway. The sound heard was that of a robe pocket over-filled with jelly beans spilling it's contents on to a wooden chair, that continued to roll off on to a wooden floor, which when followed, led directly to the "nest." As I let my eye follow the rolling jelly beans along the floor boards, I caught a glimpse of something shiny underneath the sofa in the sun room. When I pulled back the skirt of the sofa, to my great "surprise," I was treated to a vast array of foil wrappers, Easter grass, part of a chocolate bunny ear, and anything with coconut in it. Seems as though this job had been well underway for the last several days.
Without me saying a word, this is what followed:
Accomplice #1: "Mom, I was just moving these plastic Easter eggs from here to over there... because they needed to be moved."
Accomplice #2: ....Yeah, Mom. We weren't going to put them in our lunch boxes or anything... really!
Accomplice #1: Mom, they just spilled this morning somehow - and I didn't have time to put them all back together again... I had to get my spelling done.
Accomplice #2: ... and I didn't see anything at all. I don't even know where the candy is...
Accomplice #1: What? What's under the couch??
Accomplice #2: That's been there for a loooong time... and I don't even know why...
See? Lying, sneaky, devious behavior... all because the Chocolate Holidays... and one guilt-ridden, chocolate-loving mom who isn't ready to give up the magic of a Halloween costume, the delight of making a Valentine Box, or the lovable - yet tricky Easter Bunny.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Friday, April 15, 2011
The Only List They'll Ever Need
Overheard:
"I can't be responsible for everything, Joe. If you want to learn how to cross your eyes so that only one moves, you will just have to ask mom. She's the one who taught me."
Wow. I didn't realize I had given lessons in that area. I had to stop and think what exactly I have taught my children in the last ten years. I guess I was hoping for at least a few life skills - like, tying shoes, making a bed, some simple multiplication, and maybe even the intricacies of flipping a pancake. Somehow crossing their eyes is what made it to the top of the list. I thought I better retool the list of lessons my elementary-aged children should learn before they hit the pavement to seek their fortunes:
1. Always say thank you - even it's directed to the lab tech that just poked you six times in the attempt to get a sample of your blood - would you rather have me try? I think not.
2. When someone is angry in the house, start cleaning something.
3. Spend some time on your teeth - The Bald Knobbers show is no longer hiring.
4. Notice the little things and appreciate a beautiful sunset... or the trail of sticky juice you just spilled as you walked through the entire house.
5. Be kind. Even when it seems it's getting you nowhere, this one always pays off at a later date.
6. Close the door behind you without slamming it - and first make sure no one is directly behind you - in that case, hold it for them.
7. Go to church - and occasionally listen instead of making origami frogs out of the bulletin.
8. Break a sweat now and again.
9. Just because your friend's lunch is chock full of Little Debbie Snack cakes and Slim Jims and yours is not - does not make me a mean mommy. It just means that what goes around, comes around - I didn't get that kind of a lunch as a kid, so you can't have it either. Simple "Bitter Child" law.
10. Help someone every chance you get.
11. Laugh at yourself. Laugh at funny people, places, and things. But don't laugh at funny-looking people.
12. Clean up what you get out - all of it. No one likes to find a splotch of pink play dough on the seat of their pants when they return home from a trip to Target.
13. Oh, and learn one skill that sets you apart from your peers... like crossing only one eye at a time.
There. That oughta do it.
"I can't be responsible for everything, Joe. If you want to learn how to cross your eyes so that only one moves, you will just have to ask mom. She's the one who taught me."
Wow. I didn't realize I had given lessons in that area. I had to stop and think what exactly I have taught my children in the last ten years. I guess I was hoping for at least a few life skills - like, tying shoes, making a bed, some simple multiplication, and maybe even the intricacies of flipping a pancake. Somehow crossing their eyes is what made it to the top of the list. I thought I better retool the list of lessons my elementary-aged children should learn before they hit the pavement to seek their fortunes:
1. Always say thank you - even it's directed to the lab tech that just poked you six times in the attempt to get a sample of your blood - would you rather have me try? I think not.
2. When someone is angry in the house, start cleaning something.
3. Spend some time on your teeth - The Bald Knobbers show is no longer hiring.
4. Notice the little things and appreciate a beautiful sunset... or the trail of sticky juice you just spilled as you walked through the entire house.
5. Be kind. Even when it seems it's getting you nowhere, this one always pays off at a later date.
6. Close the door behind you without slamming it - and first make sure no one is directly behind you - in that case, hold it for them.
7. Go to church - and occasionally listen instead of making origami frogs out of the bulletin.
8. Break a sweat now and again.
9. Just because your friend's lunch is chock full of Little Debbie Snack cakes and Slim Jims and yours is not - does not make me a mean mommy. It just means that what goes around, comes around - I didn't get that kind of a lunch as a kid, so you can't have it either. Simple "Bitter Child" law.
10. Help someone every chance you get.
11. Laugh at yourself. Laugh at funny people, places, and things. But don't laugh at funny-looking people.
12. Clean up what you get out - all of it. No one likes to find a splotch of pink play dough on the seat of their pants when they return home from a trip to Target.
13. Oh, and learn one skill that sets you apart from your peers... like crossing only one eye at a time.
There. That oughta do it.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
The Road
A couple of weeks ago, we stuffed the mom van full of enough snacks and entertainment to keep a troop of monkeys happy for a week, and headed south to Gulf Shores, Alabama for a week on the beach.
What made our first family road trip so special? Let me fill you in:
1. The snacks - for some reason, all food rules are literally out the window when it comes to traveling.
2. Uninterrupted time to talk with my husband - who knew plugging the kids into movies and ds games for 18 hours would almost be like a date?
3. Hearing my mother's voice come somewhere out of my mouth. Saying things like: "Kids, who wants to play a game where we see who can find the most signs of spring?" and "Just look at how GREEN it is!"
4. Narrowly escaping being maimed when the car's back tire in the lane next to us suddenly exploded and sent pieces of plastic, strips of bent metal, and hunks of rubber hurdling in our direction. All I can say is that the parents were glad that the kids were ear phoned up at the time... not sure what was said... pretty sure it wasn't "Oh my, there seems to be a disturbance next to us, let's hurry along now."
5. Gas station bathrooms... enough said.
6. While parked at a gas station/convenience store somewhere along a lonesome highway in Mississippi, a group of young men pulled up next to us. They must have seen our license plates because when they got out of their car, they all gawked into our windows as if to say, "So that's what Minnesotans look like!" They were all on cool duty as they made their way to the entrance - all swaggering and stretching their necks up to appear taller than they were - apparently proud to be Mississippi residents and still have a full set of teeth. When the last one was sashaying along the sidewalk in front of a locked cage full of propane tanks for grills, he somehow caught the edge of his t-shirt on the padlock which not only surprised him, but also pulled him back rather abruptly and managed to rip out the entire seam of his shirt. The Minnesotans observed that it's a bit tricky to maintain hip, slick, and cool when being jerked around by an inanimate object - even when you have all your teeth. A little slice of entertainment that provided us with laughter for a good twenty miles after that.
7. Reaching our destination with all of our faculties still in tact and actually still talking with one another.
Our spring break trip was, by all accounts, a great time and a complete success. People are funny, and it seems that the farther we get from home, the funnier they get. I'm sure the people we encountered along the way thought we talked and looked funny too - in fact, I'm sure I stuck out among the locals when I rolled out of the van in a McDonald's parking lot wearing a wool scarf, long pants, and a sweater on a 70 degree day in Mobile, AL. Although the airport in itself can be a real trip these days, the road gave us an opportunity to look around and observe and actually see what else is out there. So... I think we'll pack up our snacks, earphones, and funny people and do it all over again next year.
What made our first family road trip so special? Let me fill you in:
1. The snacks - for some reason, all food rules are literally out the window when it comes to traveling.
2. Uninterrupted time to talk with my husband - who knew plugging the kids into movies and ds games for 18 hours would almost be like a date?
3. Hearing my mother's voice come somewhere out of my mouth. Saying things like: "Kids, who wants to play a game where we see who can find the most signs of spring?" and "Just look at how GREEN it is!"
4. Narrowly escaping being maimed when the car's back tire in the lane next to us suddenly exploded and sent pieces of plastic, strips of bent metal, and hunks of rubber hurdling in our direction. All I can say is that the parents were glad that the kids were ear phoned up at the time... not sure what was said... pretty sure it wasn't "Oh my, there seems to be a disturbance next to us, let's hurry along now."
5. Gas station bathrooms... enough said.
6. While parked at a gas station/convenience store somewhere along a lonesome highway in Mississippi, a group of young men pulled up next to us. They must have seen our license plates because when they got out of their car, they all gawked into our windows as if to say, "So that's what Minnesotans look like!" They were all on cool duty as they made their way to the entrance - all swaggering and stretching their necks up to appear taller than they were - apparently proud to be Mississippi residents and still have a full set of teeth. When the last one was sashaying along the sidewalk in front of a locked cage full of propane tanks for grills, he somehow caught the edge of his t-shirt on the padlock which not only surprised him, but also pulled him back rather abruptly and managed to rip out the entire seam of his shirt. The Minnesotans observed that it's a bit tricky to maintain hip, slick, and cool when being jerked around by an inanimate object - even when you have all your teeth. A little slice of entertainment that provided us with laughter for a good twenty miles after that.
7. Reaching our destination with all of our faculties still in tact and actually still talking with one another.
Our spring break trip was, by all accounts, a great time and a complete success. People are funny, and it seems that the farther we get from home, the funnier they get. I'm sure the people we encountered along the way thought we talked and looked funny too - in fact, I'm sure I stuck out among the locals when I rolled out of the van in a McDonald's parking lot wearing a wool scarf, long pants, and a sweater on a 70 degree day in Mobile, AL. Although the airport in itself can be a real trip these days, the road gave us an opportunity to look around and observe and actually see what else is out there. So... I think we'll pack up our snacks, earphones, and funny people and do it all over again next year.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
816 Main Street
I was reminded of my first college apartment the other day when I got turned around and... well... a bit lost in a rather savory part of St. Paul. Of course, the children were in tow - to remind me of the fact that I often lose my way in these types of neighborhoods. As we were bumping up and down a rather neglected piece of road, my son mentioned how the houses looked old and creepy. I happened to be more concerned about finding a sign of civilization that looked familiar to me at the time. He went on to describe the dirty windows, cracked up driveways, and sagging roofs - which all perfectly described my first apartment.
We were so excited. Moving out of the dorms was a huge rite of passage. No more dining hall fare or sharing a bathroom with fifty people.. This was the big time! Four of us decided to bust free from the safety net of a watchful R.A. (Who knew, I'd marry one?) We were twenty years old for cripes sakes - it was time!
After scouring the campus paper, we carefully selected the perfect place. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms (this was a luxury), a kitchen, decent carpet, and a driveway that would allow for all of our 'luxurious' vehicles to park off the street. Our new residence looked much like a grimier version of any house in a 1970s thriller movie. But to us, it was a gleaming palace! The best part was the main floor bathroom. It was a small closet stuffed under a stairway that was not so successfully transformed into an extra bathroom. House guests of the male persuasion had to be careful not to wedge their forehead into the pitched ceiling while... uh... doing their thing. But even better, was the bonus history lesson in late 1800s construction practice we received when the improperly hung door slammed into the interior wall of the biffy and punched a hole right above the toilet paper dispenser. After a rather shrill screaming session upon the discovery of what we assumed was a dead body buried in the wall, we promptly called our landlord to report this crime - and were somewhat comforted to learn that what we thought was human hair attached to a human body - was actually horse hair attached to the studs in the wall. That's where the insulation was! However, as cozy as it sounds, horse hair isn't all that insulating. Oh well, this was our new home, so we put out a welcome mat and assumed our new roles as happy renters. What could be better? Well... turns out, there may have been one or two places that probably topped this one. That reality smacked us in the face right about the time the air began its seasonal descent. Who knew we should have asked about insulation? Or snow removal? Or resident mice munching on our meager supply of ramen noodles and froot loops in our kitchen cupboards? Or high efficiency furnaces?...or even the fact that an elderly neighbor with dementia might habitually come knocking on our door at all hours of the night? Live and learn, I guess.
Soon, I was back on the right path, the right freeway, and headed toward the hotel I had been trying to get to about six miles back. Now that I wasn't so singly focused on my lack of directional sense, I was thinking of how I could let my son know that those houses were probably just fine - and that I had lived in a house like that at one time in college. But try as I might, I just couldn't picture him living like that when he flies the nest and breaks out of the dorms some day. These are the times when I stop and reflect on just how difficult it is to be a parent - and how my parents allowed me to find my independence one experience - or bad residence - at a time. Maybe someday, down the road, he'll get really belligerent and... stinky... and difficult... and smart alecky ... and I'll be ready for him to bust out on his own. But for today, I'm just going to be glad in the fact that he still wants his airplane bedsheets on his mattress, his plastic army men spread out all over his room, and his random rock collection the main focus of his desk. Besides, I would hate to spoil all the fun for him...
We were so excited. Moving out of the dorms was a huge rite of passage. No more dining hall fare or sharing a bathroom with fifty people.. This was the big time! Four of us decided to bust free from the safety net of a watchful R.A. (Who knew, I'd marry one?) We were twenty years old for cripes sakes - it was time!
After scouring the campus paper, we carefully selected the perfect place. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms (this was a luxury), a kitchen, decent carpet, and a driveway that would allow for all of our 'luxurious' vehicles to park off the street. Our new residence looked much like a grimier version of any house in a 1970s thriller movie. But to us, it was a gleaming palace! The best part was the main floor bathroom. It was a small closet stuffed under a stairway that was not so successfully transformed into an extra bathroom. House guests of the male persuasion had to be careful not to wedge their forehead into the pitched ceiling while... uh... doing their thing. But even better, was the bonus history lesson in late 1800s construction practice we received when the improperly hung door slammed into the interior wall of the biffy and punched a hole right above the toilet paper dispenser. After a rather shrill screaming session upon the discovery of what we assumed was a dead body buried in the wall, we promptly called our landlord to report this crime - and were somewhat comforted to learn that what we thought was human hair attached to a human body - was actually horse hair attached to the studs in the wall. That's where the insulation was! However, as cozy as it sounds, horse hair isn't all that insulating. Oh well, this was our new home, so we put out a welcome mat and assumed our new roles as happy renters. What could be better? Well... turns out, there may have been one or two places that probably topped this one. That reality smacked us in the face right about the time the air began its seasonal descent. Who knew we should have asked about insulation? Or snow removal? Or resident mice munching on our meager supply of ramen noodles and froot loops in our kitchen cupboards? Or high efficiency furnaces?...or even the fact that an elderly neighbor with dementia might habitually come knocking on our door at all hours of the night? Live and learn, I guess.
Soon, I was back on the right path, the right freeway, and headed toward the hotel I had been trying to get to about six miles back. Now that I wasn't so singly focused on my lack of directional sense, I was thinking of how I could let my son know that those houses were probably just fine - and that I had lived in a house like that at one time in college. But try as I might, I just couldn't picture him living like that when he flies the nest and breaks out of the dorms some day. These are the times when I stop and reflect on just how difficult it is to be a parent - and how my parents allowed me to find my independence one experience - or bad residence - at a time. Maybe someday, down the road, he'll get really belligerent and... stinky... and difficult... and smart alecky ... and I'll be ready for him to bust out on his own. But for today, I'm just going to be glad in the fact that he still wants his airplane bedsheets on his mattress, his plastic army men spread out all over his room, and his random rock collection the main focus of his desk. Besides, I would hate to spoil all the fun for him...
Monday, March 21, 2011
The Royal Hulk
It's spring break - why not see if any of the spring clothes fit the kids? Something will surely carry over from early fall - like a couple of shirts or shorts or something - right? Well, unbeknownst to me, my kids grew freakishly taller and larger than they were in October. It was like an episode of The Incredible Hulk - except they didn't turn green of course - more like red or pink. Every piece of clothing they tried on - including shoes and socks - seemed to be squealing in pain each time they were pulled over a gigantic head or yanked on to what seemed to be giraffe legs. How did this happen? Some of the outfits looked like costumes for circus performers who had no budget for such items. After snaking Maya out of one blouse, I noticed she had little indentions on her chest where the buttons had been!
So... off we trudged on the dreaded shopping trip. You'd think I was asking them to chew off one of their limbs. They HATE shopping for clothing. I have only stamina enough to endure this with one child at a time. I figure they have to be along for the first trip to at least establish their new size. So the seven year old drew the short straw and begrudgingly plodded along behind me, while the ten year old skipped over to the book aisle with his dad. This is what followed:
Do you like this one, Honey?
Maybe.
No, I mean, if I buy it, will you wear it?
I don't know... if you want me too...
Let's start again. Here's how it's going to go, Pippy Longstocking: I will hold something up, you will say an emphatic YES or NO. Got it?
OK... if you say so...
Grrr.
How about I just look in the toys while you figure all of this out, Mom?
Not a chance.
Okaaaaaaaaaay.
How about these? (holding up some rather stylish shorts)
What size are those, Mom!? They look like clown shorts!
Well, let's just pop into a dressing room and try on a few sizes so we can be sure.
Ugh.
I feel the same way, Darlin'.
So after a quick change about in the fitting room, we established sizes and styles and I released her to the toy aisle - to keep both of our sanity in tact. I grabbed a few more items, pondered over some dresses I knew she would wear only under duress, and met up with her by the Zhu Zhu Pets. She made a sweeping glance at the new clothing items I had placed in the cart, and said, "Good job, Mom."
So now I'm wondering. Who's in charge here? I felt as though she had sent me on a quest to gather some trivial belongings for her while she sauntered around the royal playroom. And now, here she was, handing down a lackluster approval for completion of the quest.
When we arrived back home, there was a short, pathetic discussion about being tired. I, of course, ignored these comments and went about my merry, royal duties. After about forty-five minutes, it was eerily quiet. I decided to go on a quest of my own and locate the "overtaxed" child. I eventually found her curled up in a ball under a shelf, in our basement storage room - snoring soundly. When I turned on the light, she awoke and was actually giggling to herself as she was waking up. We laughed about how in the world she ended up there and how she fell asleep while hiding. As we were heading up the stairs, she looked back at the store room and said, "Now I know how Cinderella must have felt!"
It has been confirmed. I am raising a self appointed princess. I informed her that it would be a while before her prince comes to save her. To which she answered, "I'm not going off with any old prince! I'm staying right here with the queen!"
Ah-ha. Now we're talkin'.
So... off we trudged on the dreaded shopping trip. You'd think I was asking them to chew off one of their limbs. They HATE shopping for clothing. I have only stamina enough to endure this with one child at a time. I figure they have to be along for the first trip to at least establish their new size. So the seven year old drew the short straw and begrudgingly plodded along behind me, while the ten year old skipped over to the book aisle with his dad. This is what followed:
Do you like this one, Honey?
Maybe.
No, I mean, if I buy it, will you wear it?
I don't know... if you want me too...
Let's start again. Here's how it's going to go, Pippy Longstocking: I will hold something up, you will say an emphatic YES or NO. Got it?
OK... if you say so...
Grrr.
How about I just look in the toys while you figure all of this out, Mom?
Not a chance.
Okaaaaaaaaaay.
How about these? (holding up some rather stylish shorts)
What size are those, Mom!? They look like clown shorts!
Well, let's just pop into a dressing room and try on a few sizes so we can be sure.
Ugh.
I feel the same way, Darlin'.
So after a quick change about in the fitting room, we established sizes and styles and I released her to the toy aisle - to keep both of our sanity in tact. I grabbed a few more items, pondered over some dresses I knew she would wear only under duress, and met up with her by the Zhu Zhu Pets. She made a sweeping glance at the new clothing items I had placed in the cart, and said, "Good job, Mom."
So now I'm wondering. Who's in charge here? I felt as though she had sent me on a quest to gather some trivial belongings for her while she sauntered around the royal playroom. And now, here she was, handing down a lackluster approval for completion of the quest.
When we arrived back home, there was a short, pathetic discussion about being tired. I, of course, ignored these comments and went about my merry, royal duties. After about forty-five minutes, it was eerily quiet. I decided to go on a quest of my own and locate the "overtaxed" child. I eventually found her curled up in a ball under a shelf, in our basement storage room - snoring soundly. When I turned on the light, she awoke and was actually giggling to herself as she was waking up. We laughed about how in the world she ended up there and how she fell asleep while hiding. As we were heading up the stairs, she looked back at the store room and said, "Now I know how Cinderella must have felt!"
It has been confirmed. I am raising a self appointed princess. I informed her that it would be a while before her prince comes to save her. To which she answered, "I'm not going off with any old prince! I'm staying right here with the queen!"
Ah-ha. Now we're talkin'.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
The Dog Chronicles
For the past several days, we have had the privilege of dog sitting for my sister's dog. We've done this before and my kids look forward to this opportunity every time it presents itself. Franny is our little guest's name. She is a little white bichon with a quirky and endearing personality. I am not a dog person. Never have been. My husband is allergic to most dog breeds - but not Franny. We have never had any intentions of adding a canine member to our family. Instead, we have always looked at these stays as our "rent-a-dog" experiences - everyone gets their dog fix and then Franny goes home.
However, times are a changin' - the kids have gotten older and have shown great responsibility with taking care of Franny, and are certain that they too would like to have a dog - one that stays here all the time.
We have promised them nothing, but somehow they have picked up on some subtle clues that we don't mind having Franny here so much - and even kind of, well... enjoy her. So this is the conversation I overheard earlier today while the kids were scootering around the garage:
Maya: Which would you rather have, Joe? A bunch of Bakugan cards or a dog?
Joe: What kind of Bakugan cards?
Maya: Oh, I don't know - all the kinds you really like, I guess.
Joe: Hmmm... that's a tough one, Maya.
Maya: Seriously?? We are talkin' about a real live dog here!
Joe: How about 5 Bakugan cards AND a dog?
Maya: That wasn't the question, Joe.
Joe: Well, I really want a dog too, Maya - but Bakugan cards don't make messes in the yard that you have to clean up.
Maya: Are you just worried about the poop?
Joe: Yeah. That's pretty much it.
Maya: Okay, what if you walk the dog and I pick up the poop?
Joe: Maybe.. I guess.
Maya: Joe, we have to get this straight because Mom and Dad will be worried about responsibility stuff and if we don't have our story straight, they are gonna see right through us! Mom, especially. She always knows when you are not serious, Joe - so you better not laugh and look all "supicious"and stuff!
I want to remind you that Maya is a first grader and Joe is a fourth grader - you can clearly see who wears the pants in their relationship. They wrapped up their conversation, and I quickly and quietly moved away from the door. On cue, they marched into the kitchen and very professionally presented me with their case. It was going very well... until I asked Joseph some very pointed questions - it was as if I had inside information or something.
Mom: Joe, what if Maya is gone, and the dog makes a mess? What will happen then?
Joe: (looking at Maya for help) Well... I could just wait until she gets home...
Mom: What if she is at camp for a week?
Maya: (Interrupting now) Mom, I will give Joseph double pairs of rubber gloves... and maybe you can just skip a couple of days of food for the dog or something... wait, no, I will invent food that doesn't make the dog have to go do a job... no... okay... how about I just don't go to camp ever?
Joe: Yeah...
Maya: Joe! I told you to get your story straight - this is so not working!!!
The Mean Mom strikes again. The kids are foiled. However, a second strike is being schemed as we speak. Stay tuned...
However, times are a changin' - the kids have gotten older and have shown great responsibility with taking care of Franny, and are certain that they too would like to have a dog - one that stays here all the time.
We have promised them nothing, but somehow they have picked up on some subtle clues that we don't mind having Franny here so much - and even kind of, well... enjoy her. So this is the conversation I overheard earlier today while the kids were scootering around the garage:
Maya: Which would you rather have, Joe? A bunch of Bakugan cards or a dog?
Joe: What kind of Bakugan cards?
Maya: Oh, I don't know - all the kinds you really like, I guess.
Joe: Hmmm... that's a tough one, Maya.
Maya: Seriously?? We are talkin' about a real live dog here!
Joe: How about 5 Bakugan cards AND a dog?
Maya: That wasn't the question, Joe.
Joe: Well, I really want a dog too, Maya - but Bakugan cards don't make messes in the yard that you have to clean up.
Maya: Are you just worried about the poop?
Joe: Yeah. That's pretty much it.
Maya: Okay, what if you walk the dog and I pick up the poop?
Joe: Maybe.. I guess.
Maya: Joe, we have to get this straight because Mom and Dad will be worried about responsibility stuff and if we don't have our story straight, they are gonna see right through us! Mom, especially. She always knows when you are not serious, Joe - so you better not laugh and look all "supicious"and stuff!
I want to remind you that Maya is a first grader and Joe is a fourth grader - you can clearly see who wears the pants in their relationship. They wrapped up their conversation, and I quickly and quietly moved away from the door. On cue, they marched into the kitchen and very professionally presented me with their case. It was going very well... until I asked Joseph some very pointed questions - it was as if I had inside information or something.
Mom: Joe, what if Maya is gone, and the dog makes a mess? What will happen then?
Joe: (looking at Maya for help) Well... I could just wait until she gets home...
Mom: What if she is at camp for a week?
Maya: (Interrupting now) Mom, I will give Joseph double pairs of rubber gloves... and maybe you can just skip a couple of days of food for the dog or something... wait, no, I will invent food that doesn't make the dog have to go do a job... no... okay... how about I just don't go to camp ever?
Joe: Yeah...
Maya: Joe! I told you to get your story straight - this is so not working!!!
The Mean Mom strikes again. The kids are foiled. However, a second strike is being schemed as we speak. Stay tuned...
Friday, March 11, 2011
Lent and Muppets
I often read blogs. Blogs about writers, blogs about moms, blogs about art and photography, just whatever catches my whimsy at the moment. Today, I was lead from one facebook page to a blog and then another, and finally ended up on the blog of a priest. I don't know him, but he is apparently a friend of a priest I do know. He had some powerful words to share about Lent. I was reflecting on his perspective and becoming quite introspective. A nice moment and thoughtful way to end my day. I decided to read up on this individual a bit more by reading his profile. This is where I noticed that he likes a variety of movies - "and almost anything with a muppet in it." A confession of admiration for the beloved muppets totally surprised me. Who knew? Parish suppers, long sermons, fall festivals, and First Communions - common thoughts when I think of priests. Kermit and Miss Piggy? Not so much.
His affection for these goofy creatures made me like this priest immediately. I was wishing this guy was the priest at my church so after Communal Penance we could throw "A Muppet Christmas Carol" soundtrack featuring John Denver, on the p.a. system and belt out some tunes with Fozzie, Animal, and the Swedish Chef! Wouldn't that be something?
The Muppets were a happy part of my childhood. Sesame Street and Fraggle Rock - now that's entertainment. I remember waking my cousin's two year old out of an afternoon slumber and loading her up in a station wagon along with four of my cousins - so we could use her as our "excuse" for wanting to see "Follow that Bird." And what's not to like about a crazed "Animal" growling out rhythms while slamming sticks on a pretend drum set? Or watching a skinny-legged frog dressed up as a cowboy strutting down main street in an old Western Ghost Town about to have a shoot out with the town villain?
I suppose I feel the same way about the Muppets that my parents felt about Howdy Doody or Clarabel the Clown. It's just silly, good-hearted fun. Then when you actually stop and think about the fact that what you are watching on TV or the big screen is a bunch of feathers, googly eyes, and felt - it makes it even more absurd. Not so long ago, a friend and I actually stayed up the better part of a night, while attending a professional conference, giggling and snorting about bulging eyes and Louie the Shrimp and the beloved "Beaker." Our colleagues who had the pleasure of listening to us all night, were not as humored. I guess the Muppets aren't for everyone.
In the end, we all need our own form of silly, pointless entertainment. Whether that enjoyment comes in the form of felt or otherwise, it's just good for the soul.
His affection for these goofy creatures made me like this priest immediately. I was wishing this guy was the priest at my church so after Communal Penance we could throw "A Muppet Christmas Carol" soundtrack featuring John Denver, on the p.a. system and belt out some tunes with Fozzie, Animal, and the Swedish Chef! Wouldn't that be something?
The Muppets were a happy part of my childhood. Sesame Street and Fraggle Rock - now that's entertainment. I remember waking my cousin's two year old out of an afternoon slumber and loading her up in a station wagon along with four of my cousins - so we could use her as our "excuse" for wanting to see "Follow that Bird." And what's not to like about a crazed "Animal" growling out rhythms while slamming sticks on a pretend drum set? Or watching a skinny-legged frog dressed up as a cowboy strutting down main street in an old Western Ghost Town about to have a shoot out with the town villain?
I suppose I feel the same way about the Muppets that my parents felt about Howdy Doody or Clarabel the Clown. It's just silly, good-hearted fun. Then when you actually stop and think about the fact that what you are watching on TV or the big screen is a bunch of feathers, googly eyes, and felt - it makes it even more absurd. Not so long ago, a friend and I actually stayed up the better part of a night, while attending a professional conference, giggling and snorting about bulging eyes and Louie the Shrimp and the beloved "Beaker." Our colleagues who had the pleasure of listening to us all night, were not as humored. I guess the Muppets aren't for everyone.
In the end, we all need our own form of silly, pointless entertainment. Whether that enjoyment comes in the form of felt or otherwise, it's just good for the soul.
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