To Save A Few Pennies

You get what you pay for.

I've always said it and I've always believed it. I think if you don't want to spend twelve dollars every single year on a toaster you should probably just spring for the fifty dollar one to begin with and have it last a decade. (That is of course unless you have a two-year-old.) Don't get me wrong. I shop the sales. I use coupons. I seek to be thrifty. But when it comes down to it, I still believe- you get what you pay for.

Monday my three older children headed off for their first day of school. (Wow. Listen to that angelic choir sing. ) Anyway, as soon as they were dropped off I headed to the city to go to what us country bumpkins like to refer to as "the mall". I had a coupon for Gymboree. Their clothes are really sturdy but also very expensive so I go there when they put everything on clearance and I have a coupon. Then the prices are almost but not quite as good as Target's. AND, the clothes there are not exclusively made in China which is a plus. The mall is a good 30-40 minute drive away and I wanted to get there early. I did. By early I mean that the stores didn't open until 40 minutes after I arrived. This presented a problem. See, I don't have the LUXURY of a double-stroller at the moment; something I have clearly taken for granted the last six years. (The stroller was a casualty in what we are calling The Despereaux Incident.) So I had Krptonite(1), MonsterTruck(3), Mr.Yuke(4), and a whole bunch of senior citizen mall walkers whom I had to keep from hurting each other for the better part of an hour without anything for the kids to do.

And that's when it hit me. That thing I had been waiting for had finally arrived. For those of you who live in places that have a sales tax, you know what always happens to the change section of your wallet after not too long. It becomes completely filled with pennies. Even if you try to spend them any chance you get, eventually the pennies will make it impossible to close your wallet anymore and you will hope that it is December so that you can give them all to the Salvation Army guy in exchange for three minutes of no-bell-ringing. My wallet has been in such a state for almost a month. Several times I started to empty it into my piggy bank (yes, I have a piggy bank- a real piggy-) but every time something stopped me. Somehow I knew there was something I was going to need those pennies for. And here it was. I could take the kids down to the mall pond by Macy's department store and we could throw in pennies until the store opened for business. Genius! (Yes, I actually had 40 minutes-worth of pennies in my wallet. Ah, the joy of sales tax.)

So we're throwing pennies. The boys are having a great time. They can't believe how fortune has smiled on them and they are getting to throw SO MANY PENNIES for SO LONG into the fountain pond thing. Even Kryptonite(1) who was sitting on my lap was getting into it. She hasn't really mastered throwing yet so most of her pennies ended up on the floor in front of me where the boys would scramble to be the first one to scavenger them. Occasionally hers would bounce into the water though, and this made her extremely happy.

Aim notwithstanding, she had good form. Her windup would have rivaled Paul Byrd. She meant business. On one of her bigger throws, she whipped that penny back all the way to my face, and then- she accidentally hooked my glasses and hurled them with her penny onto the floor. Unfortunately, this was one of those throws that had enough force behind it to bounce into the pond after hitting the tile.

Fortunately, the glasses landed where I could reach them if I got on my hands and knees and pulled up my sleeve and reached really far and hoped that while my face was turned away from her for 1.3 seconds she would not fall into the pond and drown. Remember those mall-walkers I mentioned? Yeah. I got several disapproving looks from them as they passed by, clearly not impressed with the hugely pregnant woman taking money (I WAS NOT!!!) out of the fountain. They tutted and averted their eyes and shot me second glances and crusty looks. I fished my glasses out and thank goodness did not have to catch any children in the process. I smiled at my children and was explaining how we NEVER put our arms into the pond except to reach our glasses and we don't touch the water and get back from the water please stop that right now- when I put on my glasses only to discover-

Remember when I said that my glasses BOUNCED into the pond right after they hit the tile? Well apparently, that collision caused the right lens to pop out, cuz- it just wasn't there. I looked all around the ground near the bench and the offending tile and everywhere within twenty feet. It wasn't anywhere. I KNEW it had to have landed in the water. GREAT.

The lens was completely invisible. I got back on my hands and knees, felt all around and searched with one eye/hand, while the other eye/hand tried to play lifeguard to a by-now extremely curious set of toddler/preschoolers. MonsterTruck(3) of course wanted to be extremely helpful and within 2.1 seconds he was laying on his belly with both arms in the water. That's when he noticed it. "Hey! There's money in here!" Um, yeah?

I palpated the bottom of the fountain every place I could reach for fifteen minutes and then realized I was going to have to resort to more extreme (and embarrassing) measures. I walked over to the Hallmark store and called to the employee through the gate. She looked at me with an insipid expression that seemed to say, "Um, are you like- stupid or something? Cause see that gate thingy? Yeah, that means like- WE'RE CLOSED." I said, "Hi. : ) I know you're not open yet, but could you please call mall security for me? My baby accidentally threw my glasses into the fountain and the lens popped out. I can't find it and I was wondering if they could turn the lights on in there?" She glared at me but she did call the maintenance guys who deal with this sort of thing.

We sat down on the bench again and waited for Mr.FountainPondRepairandMaintenanceMan for ten minutes. When he finally came he looked extremely harrassed, as if he was thinking, "Every day it's the same thing. You come to work and next thing you know you're fishing in the mall pond. If I had a dollar for every right lens I fished out of this stupid fountain, I could quit this glamorous line of work and follow my real dream of becoming a world-class figure skater...." He looked me up and down once, sighed and said, "Where did they fall in?" I pointed out the spot very specifically and then Mr.F. proceeded to use his pool skimmer ("shovel", according to MonsterTruck(3)) to scrape the bottom of the entire pond. Every single inch of it. Except for the 2 foot space I had pointed out. I actually paused to wonder if he was doing it on purpose just to make me wait longer because he was put out about having to leave the clogged toilet situation he was previously dealing with. I pointed out the area for a second, and then a third time but it was sort of like he had a blind spot. It didn't matter how many times I pointed out the area, he was not going to actually scrape the bottom of the pond there where I couldn't reach and my lens most likely was. He sat down on another bench across from me for a moment, heaved a big sigh, and said, "Wellp. There's only one other way." His gaze turned to a scowl as he began removing his work boots and socks and rolling up his pants. Okay, so maybe he wasn't ignoring me on purpose. Maybe he is just really dense.

I felt guilty now because it was obvious that he was very displeased at the turn of events from the looks he kept shooting at me and my children. The boys' eyes grew wide as they watched Mr.F. STEP DOWN INTO THE FOUNTAIN. You could see the wheels turning and I knew that from that moment on, for the rest of the years those boys live with me, I am going to be having to repeat to them each and every time we pass a fountain, "STAY OUT OF THE FOUNTAIN!!!! YES, I KNOW THE MAN DID IT ONCE BUT HE WAS A WORKER AND HE WAS HELPING ME AND YOU MAY NOT GET IN THERE!!!!!". It is going to be a long 16 years. : ) ("I just cleaned this fountain YESTERDAY." Um, sorry? Is my lens dirtying up the water that much?)

Well, Mr.F. walked the entire pond, feeling around with his foot. I cringed when he got to the area that I thought my lens could actually be in because, what was he thinking? That stepping on my lens was a better solution than not having one at all? But I did appreciate that he was actually in the correct vicinity for the first time in half an hour and had some little hope that he would find it.

He didn't. He emerged from the fountain at about the same time that MonsterTruck(3) realized how to remove the money from the fountain so that he could throw it back in. (Hey, at least he was occupied.) Mr.F. had me write down my name and number and said they would call me if they found it. I did so, telling him I was mostly worried because I live WAY OUT in the country and that's a long way to drive without being able to see.

Right about that time Mr.MaintenanceMan#2 came on the scene to join Mr.F. They conferred for a minute and then decided that if the lens was plastic maybe it floated away under the bridge to a different part of the fountain. They decided to try turning the fountain on to see if that would float the lens over to one side. They opened up some panel in the floor and fiddled with a lot of different controls, raising the water pressure in first one place, then another. Mr.F. was by this time CONVINCED that my lens was not actually in the pond at all and that it had somehow just evaporated. Mr.M#2 began scanning the floor around me and Mr.F. took the skimmer thing and scraped the bottom of the pond right in front of me one more time (actually, right there it was the FIRST time). As he did this Mr.M#2, with his hands held out as if he were about to stop a major car accident, shouted, "WAIT!!! I SEE IT!!!" (The mall stores had actually been open for quite some time by this point and his hollering attracted the stares of many unsuspecting shoppers.) Sure enough, right where I had pointed those three times that Mr.F. had either ignored me or did not understand what I was conveying about the pretty water, was my lens. Mr.F.: Well I SURE didn't feel that when I STEPPED there.

(And you thought God doesn't answer prayers. ( : )

Mr.F. handed me my lens and said with not a little malice in his voice, "If you go down to the optical shop we have here in the the mall they can TIGHTEN THAT UP for you." Me: Ha ha! Okay, thanks! REALLY, thank you so much for helping me. : ) He was annoyed enough that a "You're welcome" was quite out of the question. I have some nerve.

So, we gathered up our stuff and headed (FINALLY!) to Gymboree. So much for getting there early. Luckily, they weren't busy and they had just moved everything to clearance the day before when they got their new inventory in so there was tons of good stuff 20 and 40% off. I picked through the racks and racks of clothes and finally had my choices narrowed down to a couple shirts each for the boys and a few outfits for Kryptonite(1). I got up to the checkout counter pleased that I was going to be able to get the things I wanted to get last week, only now instead of paying full price, I would be getting 40% off AND I had that additional 20% off coupon I'd been saving. I pulled the mailer from my bag to tear out the coupon and my face fell. THAT STUPID THING EXPIRED AT THE END OF JULY. I am so glad I drove all the way to THE MALL in the CITY so that I could waste 400 pennies and an hour of my time apparently trying to scoop lunch money out of the fountain, so that I could save an extra 20% off the clearance price JUST TO FIND OUT MY COUPON IS EXPIRED!!!!! I needed a moment. The salesgirl asked me if I had any coupons today and I said, well yes, I thought I did but I JUST discovered it has expired. She smiled at me and said in a professional voice that if I came in on Thursday, everything in the store would be an additional 30% off. My head was about to explode. Um, okay. Can you hold these for me until then? She did and we went home to wait with anticipation (and dread) for our return trip to the mall.

So to save a few pennies, I threw away hundreds more and half a tank of gas and very nearly my glasses, but- you get what you pay for.

I'm expecting great things from these clothes.

Family: Isn't It About... MINE?

Ever heard of the Toddler Rules of Acquisition? It's a paraody on (I cringe as I type this-) the Ferengi Rules of Acquisition. (Deep Space Nine. A moment of silence for my dignity.) Anyway, the Toddler Rules of Acquistion are as follows:

1. If I like it, it's mine.
2. If it's in my hand, it's mine.
3. If I can take it from you, it's mine.
4. If I had it a little while ago, it's mine.
5. If it's mine, it must NEVER appear to be yours in any way.
6. If I'm doing or building something, all the pieces are mine.
7. If it looks just like mine, it is mine.
8. If I saw it first, it's mine.
9. If you are playing with something and you put it down, it automatically becomes mine.
10. If it's broken, it's yours.

I've always liked that and found quite a lot of truth in it. I was reminded of The Rules recently when MonsterTruck(3) had his birthday. Husband asked him what he would like for a present and without hesitation he anwered, "A lightsaber that is MINE." Poor kid. In early childhood development they will tell you that the reason toddlers are so possessive is because their identity is tied to their belongings. Well, lucky for us he seems pretty well-adjusted because the boy has got nothin'. We have EVERY SINGLE TOY in that famous toy chain worth having at this house. This last Christmas there was nothing in that ENTIRE store that my kids wanted. We did three laps. I'm not kidding. But the problem is, the toys at our house all have owners. The children all share, of course, but when it comes down to it, at the end of the day, those toys belong to individuals. Of which MonsterTruck(3) is apparently not one.

We were more than happy to accomodate his wish for his own light saber. We threw in a Thomas train as well since those all belong to Bubba(7) and Mr.Yuke(4). MonsterTruck(3) was ECSTATIC. He has walked around with a light saber strapped to his underwear every day since then. (Don't ask me where his pants are. All I know is that I put them on him and then they are gone.) Incidentally, underwear doesn't really hold the weight of a light saber very efficiently....

So we got him presents. He was happy. Mr.Yuke(4) was not. Because trains are HIS, see? And so us giving one to MonsterTruck(3) is really quite unacceptable. And why doesn't MR.YUKE(3) have that particular engine? And it's not fair.

There are a lot of things in family life that belong to us. I have realized that although the idea that everything is mine starts in toddlerhood, it really stays with us our whole lives. There is the ever-so-trying period of life from 7-ish to I-don't-know-when that girls think everything in the house is part of their domain and therefore fair game. Like scissors and masking tape and lip gloss. (THOSE ARE MINE.) And computer paper. (HUSBAND'S) And brownie mixes. And....

It's not all possessiveness though. My children are sometimes very generous with their things. Like when I say clean up your room and they all say that those clothes on the floor belong to their beloved sister/brother who they share a room with. It is just really so kind they way they give up their stuff like that. Warms a mother's heart. Or temper- one of those. : )

They are also very generous with fault. Blame is something that is never anyone's "MINE". It is ALWAYS someone else's. The floor must truly bleed jelly. It is the only logical explanation.

We continue the compulsion to claim what is ours even into adulthood. Show me one woman in this country who has given birth who has not at some point or other felt compelled to tell all about their labor and delivery- in detail. I am telling you, she doesn't exist. We all want credit for what is OURS. Even if it's blood, sweat, and tears. Especially if.

We judge comments we hear from others based on our experience. "Yes, that's true with MINE." or "Not with MINE." I recently went to a class on holding effective Family Home Evenings where the teacher (whose lesson was great, by the way) made a comment to the effect of "Your kids idolize you. They want to be you. There is no one they admire more." Forgetting temporarily that her children are 2 and 7 months or something like that, all I could think was, "Are you INSANE? Not MINE." But she does not have a pre-pubescent daughter at the moment. She was teaching from HER perspective. And I was hearing from MINE.

Everywhere I go people are always asking me, "Are these all YOURS?" I have yet to come up with the perfect snarky comeback to that but really? If you had three or four kids, would you round up three MORE to do a little grocery shopping with? Yes. They are all mine- which brings me back to MonsterTruck(3).

A few days after his birthday, he was laying on my bed, looking up at the wall where all the family pictures are. He said, "There's Gwanny, and Gwamma, and Gwampa, and Daddy, and Mommy, and LittleMommy(9), and Bubba(7), and Mr. Yuke(4), and Kryptonite(1), and ThePinkiest(5), and MoneyBags, and Sumping.... Those is MY PEOPLE." Looks like he had something to identify himself with before the light saber after all.

Yeah. Those IS my people. That's who I am. And I'm so glad they're MINE.

A Series of Unfortunate Events

First off-

a.k.a. Deaf Girl
Sorry, ArtisticallySpecificTastes. The video clip is of an amazing rendition of the National Anthem, hence all of the basketball players in the background. They sound like professional singers in their 30's and they're singing a lot of really tight harmonies. It sounds similar to that Christmas cd your sister MoneyBags likes so much. You know, the one with the family of girls singing, some of whom she knows? Only, these harmonies are more complicated and jazzish than that. Oh, and please tell your deaf friends not to send me those emails. Thank you.


Second-

I Forgot My Shirt
No, I'm not sitting here typing in the buff. I forgot my shirt last week. Let me back up.

Phone ringing yesterday.
Me: Hello?
Caller: Hi [Aberjaber], it's Angie.
Me yay! but weird, she's never called me before: Hi! How are you?
Angie: I'm fine. I'm calling because I was wondering if you know- Is the bus going to pick up the kids for the field trip tomorrow, and do you know what time?
Me Huh? Field trip? I didn't know she had a kindergartener. I thought her sons were either older or younger than that. Field trip! Crap! I forgot! I guess maybe the Two Dollars fiasco before had its advantages: Ummmmm. Field trip. Right. That's tomorrow. Yyyyyeah. Welllll, I don't know if the bus is coming or at what time if it is, but I'm actually going on that field trip. (Crap, I have to get a babysitter!) (Thank you Valenzoo!) If you want I could just take him with me when I go.
Angie: Are you sure you don't mind?
Me hey I could get my shirt back at the same time: No, it's fine. Also, I accidentally left my shirt in your car last week.
Angie: Your shirt?
Me: Yeah, the black commando one (I took with me when we were behaving like juvenille delinquents) that I never changed into...(?) I left it in the back of your car, I think...(?)
Angie: ???? My car?
Me understanding dawning: Wait, which Angie is this?
Angie: This is Angie _____.
Me: OHHHHH!!!! Yeah. Different Angie. Different car. You sounded like Angie _____. Um, I can still take your daughter to school if you want.
Angie: Ok. I was going to say, I don't think you've ever even seen my car.
Me: No, you're right. Sorry about that.

Ange- when you read this, I left my shirt in your car. Thank you.

There's Just Something About Field Trips

A few years back, LittleMommy's(4) preschool class attended a field trip at the fire station. I had attended the same field trip the previous year and knew I would be attending it again the following 2 years. Yep. The Bunch didn't overachieve when it came to spacing 'em out. So anyway, when I discovered that Husband was going to have the day of the field trip off from work, I asked if he would pretty please take the kids so I could have a little break. He agreed and so I set off on my little break. ArtisticallySpecificTastes and I were going to Target to spend my birthday giftcard and ooo and ahh over the jewellry. I love earrings. I think I'll say that again. I. LOVE. EARRINGS.

So I went and picked up my favorite AZ shopping partner. I hung out and ate her mom's Lucky Charms for a long time while she got ready to go. Just after we got into the store, a storm began as they only do in Arizona, and we discussed how lucky I was to NOT be on the field trip. I said it was a good thing the field trip was almost over. After about half an hour of "perusing the merchandise" (read it with a Brooklyn accent- threw that in there for you, Kretha)- there was a roll of thunder so loud that ArtisicallySpecificTastes asked me what it was. (Did I mention she is DEAF? Well she is. Completely, all the way, she-don't-hear-no-thunder-deaf.) I told her what it was and her eyes got really big. One of us- and I can't rightly say who it was now, but I think it was me- remarked, "I hope the lightning didn't hit anyone's house." (At certain times of the year, lightning is a pretty common starter of house fires in Arizona. I think it comes from the fact that they plant these stupid trees:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/84077434@N00/378102058/

All the photos I found of them were copyrighted so I couldn't embed them. If you were too lazy/in a hurry (and what mom isn't?) to click on the link, I'll sum it up in two words: lightning rod.)

So anyway, I felt bad for the inevitable catastrophe that some poor family was experiencing. We left the store about half an hour later and I went home. Imagine my dismay when I discovered that, sure enough. One of them dern trees was struck by lightning and started a fire. In my carport. And apparently the firetrucks had just left. The tree was burned and the roof on that side of the house was a little charred, but when all was said and done, the neighbors and Husband had all acted quickly, hosing down the house to keep it from igniting and everything was ok. (ish.) The firemen put out the fire, my carport was flooded with mystery foam which had come from their hoses, and my kids were shaken up, but thought it was cool to see the firefighters in action so up-close-and-personal just ten minutes after their trip to the fire station. After a little while, Husband proceeded to tell me how, when the children were permitted to walk through the firetruck, LittleBoyBlau(4) took off the emergency break and put that puppy into gear. The firetruck started rolling. In a crowd of twenty 4 year-olds and their parents and younger siblings. Husband acted fast and scooped up two kids who were inches away from getting squished under the big red truck. So many brushes with death, all before 11 am!

Today, The Pinkiest(5)'s kindergarten class had a field trip to both the grocery store AND the fire station. Apparently the school in This Place That I Live takes a one-stop shopping approach to field tripping. There were about 100 kids and roughly 1 adult for every 4 kids. There was also a teacher on each bus, and two buses went. (4 classes went on the field trip. We have half day K here.) One bus went to the fire station first, the other went to the store.

We went to the store first. We got there, the store took a group photo of all the kids to print out and give them at the end of their tour, and then they divided us into three groups. Each group was given a tour guide and sent to a different area of the store.

Now, before I go on, I would like to say I am well aware of what normally happens on these sorts of trips. MyOwnMother taught kindergarten and did this trip every year for almost ten years. Also, I worked in 2 different grocery stores for a period of three years. I've got the 411 on kindertrips to the grocery store. Normally, they show the kids the loading docks, the area where the produce is washed and banded before it is put out, the trash compacter, the area where the meat is processed, the fryers for the deli counter, and the area in the bakery where the ovens and proofers are. They give the kids a cookie, answer questions, and send you on your way.

Let me tell you how our tour went.

Our group was sent to the Pharmacy first. There, a store manager told the kids how they should NEVER take medicine that they find. Or take more than one vitamin. Or take their siblings' antibiotics. (All good info, but not quite sure why we had to come to the store to learn that.) Next, she walked us over to the section with all the cosmetics and showed the kids the c.c.t.v. cameras in the ceiling, and admonished the kids NOT TO STEAL MAKEUP AND STUFF THAT COSTS MORE THAN FOOD (Things less than food are fine?! Food is ok?!) because there are cameras all over the place in every store you ever go into and they will see you if you steal. See them? There they are? You can look at Walmart or Sears or anyplace you go and find the cameras that ARE WATCHING YOU. (I thought about how although I know those cameras are there, I still occasionally pick a wedgie if it's really bothering me and I'm in an aisle alone. I've got to stop doing that. THEY. ARE. WATCHING. YOU.) The lady was super cute and perky and good at talking to the kids. BUT- after her anti-suicide/theft speeches, she "turned [us] over to Carolyn" for the rest of the tour.

Carolyn was TheSurlyTourGuideWhoHatesChildren. She was mean to the kids and reminded me of the teacher on Pete's Dragon. Seriously. And when the little 5 year-olds didn't make 2 perfect lines in front of her, she clapped her hands real loud and looked at them like they were tomorrow's muggers and rapists. She took them into the refrigerator and the freezer and snapped at the kids, then explained to the adults which products were on sale. She took us to the seafood section. There BrianTheSeafoodGuy told us about how there are farms where they grow sea creatures so as not to deplete the ocean's resources and if we go home and search on the internet for "Aquaculture" we can learn all about it. (This was the interesting part of the tour. I thought I should tell you, since I doubted you'd figure it out on your own.) Then TheSurlyTourGuideWhoHatesChildren regaled the kids with the tale of how she had never had KingCrab before in her life until last year when she went up to Alaska on a fishing boat and they caught crabs (don't go there) and prepared them and ate them and EVERYTHING...! Then she got even grumpier because the expected reaction of awe and wonder was instead blank stares that said, "Whats a Laska?" and "My Uncle has a boat." and "I need to go potty." She stomped over to the bakery section where the baker guy was going to demonstrate to the kids how they decorate the cakes. He opened a mylar package, pulled out a pre-printed, thick, leathery-looking, sugar thing and plopped it on the cake. Then he did a real fancy job of putting a seashell border around two cakes in two minutes flat. And that is why I don't buy cakes at Said Grocery Store. They always appear to have been completed in two minutes. And that is not a good thing. (And how come you have to order your cake a week in advance? He did TWO cakes in two minutes. What are they doing for the other 604,798 minutes of that week? Just wondering.) BakerJose was actually very nice to the kids and talked to them on their level, but his demonstration was ruined somewhat by the constant peppering of comments from TheSurlyTourGuideWhoHatesChildren. Things such as, "DON'T TOUCH!" "STOP TOUCHING!" "BACK UP!" "YOU KIDS NEED TO BACK. UP.!" and my personal favorite, "YOU MAY NOT COUGH ON THE CAKE!!!!" After the cake decorating, came the highlight of the trip. TheSurlyTourGuideWhoHatesChildren took us to the produce section. And this is what she said:

SurlyTourGuide: These are fruits and vegetables. You need FIVE servings of fruit and vegetables each day. Right? Now. There are two kinds of food. Living food and DEAD food. DEAD food has been cooked. Living food has not. Living fruits and vegetables are good for you. I'll tell you- if you eat DEAD food all the time, you ARE GOING TO GET CANCER. If you eat LIVING food, you'll NEVER get cancer.

Kids: !!!! : O

Parents: !!!! : O

SurlyTourGuide: Green vegetables have chlorophyll. That means it's good for you, if you don't turn it into a DEAD food. This is cabbage. These are strawberries. You need yellow vegetables for your eyes. What color is this cantaloupe?

FiveKidsWhoAreStillSortOfListening: OR-ANGE!!!

SurlyTourGuide: Uh, right. So you need yellow vegetables for your eyes. And orange ones. (Walks over to the carrots, picks one up, breaks it in half.) You can always tell which part of your body something is good-for by what it looks like. See the end of that carrot? It looks like your eye.

Kids and Me: ? : o

SurlyTourGuide: See? Right here?

Kids squinting: ???

Me: I wonder which part of your body potatoes look like?

SurlyTourGuide: You want candy, eat peas. That's God's candy right there.

Me: Please let this end soon.

SurlyTourGuide: This is a red pepper. This is an orange pepper. Isn't that beautiful? This is a jalepeno pepper. It cleans your blood.

Kids: : O

SurlyTourGuide: Yup. Them Mexicans use this and cilantro. Cilantro has wonderful, wonderful properties. That's how they stay healthy.

Me: I wonder if she thinks no one in Mexico has cancer?

SurlyTourGuide: This is broccoli. What does broccoli have?

Kids afraid to answer her at this point: Leaves? Little bally thingies? Rubberbands?

SurlyTourGuide: Chlorophyll.! I TOLD YOU. disgusted sigh of exasperation See this orange? Is it cooked?

Kids meekly: Noooo.

SurlyTourGuide: That's right. It's not DEAD food. It's Living food. AND THAT MEANS it's good for you. You remember that.

As we left the store for the fire station, I wondered how many 5/6 year-olds were going to refuse to eat their vegies at dinner tonight. Certainly more than last night. Then I wondered what sort of craziness was going to take place during our fire station experience.

At the fire station we learned to STOP. DROP. AND ROLL. Then, Alex (a kid in ThePinkiest's (5) class), gave a ten minute dissertation on how to check your bedroom door to see if it's hot and then throw a fire ladder out your window and climb down- complete with miming. The fire safety instructor ended with how "houses in [this city we live in] almost never catch on fire because they are built so safely these days." On our way from the fire safety room to see the fire engine, they firemen got called out to a house fire. So much for "almost never catching fire". Luckily, they had double-scheduled firefighters today just in case this happened. I'm thinkin' maybe house fires aren't quite as unusual as he was letting on.

I watched the kids go through the cab of the firetruck, keeping an eye on them to see that nobody put it into gear. After we saw everything in the truck and got the explanation of why firefighters carry Costco-size buckets of kitty litter, we went to Corbin, the EMT. Fire Fighter Corbin showed the kids all the stuff in the ambulance and even took the pulse-ox. of every single kid there. By then we were freezing because, it is NOT balmy out today. And fire station garages make great wind tunnels.

When we finally got home (with Angie ____'s daughter, not Angie ____'s son), I got to see that the call they got for the house fire was NOT for my house. What a relief! I guess the trip to the fire station was uneventful this time. Thank goodness.

I don't know what else to say, other than I'm ready to swear off field trips forever.

Patience My Sweet

After waiting what he deems an interminably amount of time to go with Husband to the store for a treat as a reward for doing a particularly nasty job in the backyard-

Mr. Yuke(4): Come. on. Dad.
Husband: I need you to just give me a little bit of patience.
Mr. Yuke(4): I already gave you all the payshens I have.
Husband: No, I need you not to stretch MY patience.
Mr. Yuke (4): Well I only stretched it a little.

Then as they're heading out the door-

Husband: Come on. I'm going to get you a girlfriend.
Mr. Yuke(4) thinking this over: Hmm. a GIRLfriend? Will she have GIRLscout cookies?

Slots and That Dirty Slut: Mr. Yuke(4) Goes Vegas

Slots:

A couple months ago, during our last round of dominoes, Mr. Yuke(4) called me to the bathroom.
"Mom, I slotted."
"What?!"
"I slotted. I tried to poop but lot of slot came out."
I have not looked at a slotted spoon the same ever since.


Now for the other:

In January our local grocery store parking lot became a quagmire of thick not-exactly-snow-more-like-soft-slush. It wouldn't go away and had become quite deep; deep enough to cover Mr. Yuke's(4) shoes in fact.

Husband took Mr. Yuke(4) to the store one night. When Mr. Yuke(4) jumped out of Max, his feet were instantly immersed in ice-cold mush.
Mr. Yuke(4): Ughh! I hate that dirty slut!
Husband: WHAT?!
Mr. Yuke(4): That slut- (points)- I hate it.
Husband trying not to laugh: Oh. Slushhhhhhhhhhhh.
Mr. Yuke unable to hear properly due to wind: Don't shush me! I HATE THAT DIRTY SLUT!!!
Man Walking By: sputter choke gasp guffaw

Learning Through Repetition

Muhloo(11mo) learned her first word yesterday. She has of course been saying da-da when she's happy and ma-ma when she's upset for quite some time now. (Isn't that the way?) Yesterday however, Muhloo(11mo) said her first bona fide word.

Before I get to that though, I have to get something off my chest. Grocery shopping with a bunch of kids is a hideous experience. Each and every time. Even when my children are such sweethearts that they give the illusion of being proper and dignified little adults who always say please and thank you and help one another reach things on the high shelves, the snooty looks we receive from our fellow patrons are almost always somewhere in the withering-glare/disdain-for-the-scene-just-witnessed spectrum. After casting dispersions on me and my children either facially or vocally as if I'm not standing RIGHT THERE. NEXT TO THEM.- the inevitable comment from every single person I've ever encountered in public is, "You've got YOUR hands full." I am not kidding. EVERY. SINGLE. PERSON. I hear this so often that for a while I actually had "handsfull" as my password on the websites I frequent- as a rebellion against public condemnation. Where was I? Oh, right. Even when my children are little angels. And let's face it. No child is one of those at all times. Especially not if "all times" happens to occur in the grocery store.

Let me run you through a typical visit to the local grocery store for me.

Find a parking space in teensy-tiny stalls that would render it impossible to open car doors even if you were parked next to a Geo (DARE to dream!)- forget about the roughly 5000 Suburbans parked at this particular grocery store around the clock. Get everyone out of the car. (Usually at this point, though not this week- we cleaned the van out!- we then chase down whatever has unwantedly exited the car with us.) Find a cart. Try to keep an eye on The Pinkiest(7) at all times because you know what she does in situations like this. Put Muhloo's(11mo) carseat in the cart. Argue with Monster Truck(2) about whether or not he is also going to ride in it.
"I WALK." "No, you ride." "I WALK." "[Monster Truck(2)], please come here so I can get you in the cart." "NO. I WALKING." "If you walk YOU HAVE TO STAY BY MOMMY." "I stay by mommy." "All right, fine. Come here. Don't run in the parking lot! Guys! Stay by mom. HEY! CARS CAN'T SEE YOU!!!- Sorry!" (GLARE from disgruntled motorist.) Get into the store.
Little Mommy(9): Mom, can we get one of these carts?
"No."
The Pinkiest(5): Can we get one of these carts?
"I just said 'No'."
Bubba(7): Hey, mom? Can we get a car cart?
"NO!"
(Bubba: Geez. What's her problem?)
Enter the Produce section.
(Now, it's important to understand that one of THE RULES is:

The answer to any and all requests which take place in the grocery store is "NO." unless said request takes place in the Produce section.

-------------ADDENDUM 1-

Unless it is January and the request is for watermelon.

-------------ADDENDUM 2-

Or blueberries. Or raspberries. Or strawberries.

The Pinkiest(5): Hey guys! They have fruit roll-ups over here!

Curse the produce man for selling those things individually! As if I'm going to pay 65 cents per fruit roll-up. I just noticed these new-fangled keyboards don't have the cent sign. I must not have EVER typed that word before.
Everyone: Mom can we have fruit roll-ups?/I ha' fooot woe-wup!/Can I get one?/I want one!/Hey! That's the one I wanted! MO-OM! "No. Nobody is getting fruit roll-ups."

Little Mommy(9): But YOU SAID we could always have anything in the produce department!

Bubba(7): IT'S NOT FAIR.

------------ADDENDUM 3-

Does not include fruit roll-ups. Or any other "froot"-related item.

"HEY! Mr. Yuke(4)! Close the door to the donuts!"

The Pinkiest: Can we get donuts?

"No."

The Pinkiest: Why not?

"Because they're not good for you."

Little Mommy(9): Daddy lets us get donuts.

"No he doesn't."

Little Mommy(9): Well you have before.

"Not today."

Mr. Yuke(4): Pleeeeease.

"No."

Mr. Yuke(4): Why not?

"Because I said 'NO'."

Bubba(7): Hmmph! It's not. FAIR.!!!

Monster Truck(2) just catching on to the exchange that is taking place: I yike donuts! I yike donuts! I have donuts?

"No."

Little Mommy(9): Mommy, can we get some cheese breadsticks for dinner?

"No."

Bubba(7): You never let us have ANYTHING.

"Why don't you go pick out an apple or a pear?- [Monster Truck(2)]! [Monster Truck(2)]! COME. HERE. I told you to stay by mommy."

Bubba(7): I don't WANT pears.

Monster Truck(2), eyes wide: No! No! I don't want ride! I walk by mommy!

At this point we pass the bakery and head for the most unpredictable part of the trip. The meat department. "Guys, stay by mom please." "[Monster Truck(2)]- that's it. You're riding."

Monster Truck(2): NOOOO! NOOOO! I. DON'T. WANT. RIDE!!!!!!!!

"Sorry."
Little Mommy(9): Can we get steak?
"No."
Little Mommy(9): Why not?
"It's too expensive this week."
Little Mommy(9) whines: But I don't like chicken.
"Yes you do, and you know it."
Little Mommy(9): But I want. Steak.
The Pinkiest(5): Here, Mommy. I got some bacon for you.
"Oh. Thank you very much honey, but I don't need any bacon."
Bubba(7): Please can we get bacon?
"No."
Little Mommy(9): But WHHHYYYYYY?
"Because we already have bacon in the freezer and we only eat it like 6 times a year."
Little Mommy(9): Yeah. That's because you never buy it.
"[Monster Truck(2)]! Don't stick your fingers inside of the package of meat!" Ewwwwww. Gross.

And so it goes. "Can we have little cheeses?" "No." "Can we get that spiderman cake?" "No." "Can we buy a lifetime supply of nacho ingredients and ice cream and soda pop?" "No. No. No. No." "Will you give me $15.00 in quarters so I can try to get that Buzz Lightyear Doll out of the Claw machine?" "NO!" (Throw in the inevitable [but gentle] cart collision into an unsuspecting shopper perpetrated by any one of the family while I have turned slightly away from the cart for .2 seconds to reach for an item off the shelf, and you pretty much have our shopping experiences in a nutshell. Oh, and the sickening moment when the checker hits total. Feeding a crew like this is an undertaking and a half, I tell you. I don't know WHAT I will do when I have teenage boys in the house.)


So if you figure that Muhloo(11mo) has been on roughly 1 trip to the grocery store every week since she was 3 weeks old and has heard the word approximately 100 times on each and every one of these adventures into consumership, throw in the very rare occasion that I have to deny someone something unreasonable at home- (sorry, I think I just shot milk out my nose,) is it any wonder that Muhloo's first word is "No."?

She can pronounce it several ways. She experimented with her range on this particular word for an entire day. There's "No.", "NO.", "NO!", and "Newwwwwwwwwwwwwwww"- her personal favorite (and Husband's and mine too). Fortunately she has not (I think) assigned meaning to the word yet. As soon as she does, it will cease to be so cute that we have no power against her (I think I am renaming her Kryptonite(11mo) right here on the spot). At that point I will be thrown into yet another toddler phase that I have to wait out before the child starts saying adorably cute things again. SIGH. They grow up. : (

SIGH! They grow up!!! : )

Wii Triumph

Yes. We triumph- and then we weep. Tears of joy? No, although we ARE happy. No, tears for someone else. Husband got to That Store at 5:30 in the morning to wait in line in the snow for 4 hours until they opened. He was 5th in line. That Store gave out numbers and said they were going to let customers in one at a time. Only the first 48 people would be getting one. By 6:00am, there were already 50 people in line. They all froze in the blizzard until 9:25. Then the store employee came out and said, "Forget the numbers. Just run." Realizing Husband is such a big guy, the little old lady in line in front of him said, "You better make sure I get one." They opened the door and sprinted into the store. Husband blocked people and got one for the little old lady and also one for the little boy in line right behind him. Then he got one for himself. The scuffle was so intense that his store membership card broke into three pieces. So yay! He got one. As he was paying, he noticed one of those first three people in the line who got there at 5:00am standing there with a look of disbelief. SHE DIDN'T GET ONE. And someone who came at 9:28 DID. When Husband told me that, I cried. Poor woman. After all the hours I have spent living at That Store, I felt her pain and I cried. I called That Store and told them that even though I got one I was disappointed in how they handled it. So sad.

We hunt

Or should I say wii hunt? Yes. Wii hunt. Wii hunt and wii get up early and wii stand in line and wii wait in the cold. Wii make phone calls and wii come again tomorrow. Wii see the same people, day after day. Wii all hunt together- and against each other; trying to be cordial, to maintain the "may the best mom win" attitude, as all the while we are eyeing each other, wondering who will wii stop seeing next? Who will be the lucky one? Wii search and wii recruit. Wii plan and wii strategize. Wii even pray- (but wii know that wii all sort of cancel each other out anyway). Wii persevere.
Wii hope.

"Wii endcaps are up @ Target!" by Adam Melancon, found on Flickr.com