Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
WHAT DO YOU EXPECT??
Aleita's kindergarten class had their Thanksgiving play this morning at her school. The parents (or whoever the kids' guests were) could then stay for lunch with the kindergartener. The play and songs that the kids performed were very cute - - what is not to love about a bunch of little kids dressed up as Pilgrims and Indians? (Aleita was a Pilgrim, which was bad casting in my opinion. Regular readers of my blog and those that know her can agree that she is much more of the Indian variety.) At any rate, she made a pretty cute Pilgrim with her braids sticking out from beneath her little white paper bonnet.
After the performance, the kindergarteners went back to their classroom to remove costumes, then met up with their guests to go to lunch. I discovered that it only takes a brief witnessing of parent/child interaction at your child's school to reaffirm the belief that perhaps you are not doing such a bad job at being a parent after all. The mother that sat beside me at the lunch table had brought a younger child with her who was perhaps three years old. Her kindergarten son and three year old daughter spent most of the time at lunch throwing things back and forth at one another while the mom begged them in a whiny voice to stop.
The parents of the child who sat across from us had packed their child's lunch - and what a healthy alternative they had offered him in place of the cafeteria lunch: The kid had a vat of cheese spread and a roll of crackers. The tub of cheese spread was the kind you get when you order from a school fundraiser - - probably enough for ten people to easily share it - - yet here was this five-year old boy, happily consuming 100 grams of fat in one sitting. Toward the end of the meal, he said to his dad, "I want some of your applesauce," then without hesitation, proceeded to dip his index and middle finger onto his dad's tray into the applesauce and shovel it into his mouth. His dad simply said, "here's my spoon if you want some," as he handed him a utensil to use.
The funny thing is, when I have volunteered in Aleita's classroom, I find that most of these kids are actually fairly well-behaved and pretty nice little kids. When I used to teach elementary school, I often noticed the same thing - - kids will usually live up to whatever set of expectations are provided to them. I had many parents that wondered why their child would behave so much better for me than they would for them. My five-year old is certainly no angel, but you can be sure that if she took her fingers and dipped them into the food on my plate, I would be sure to give her something - though I doubt it would be a spoon.
After the performance, the kindergarteners went back to their classroom to remove costumes, then met up with their guests to go to lunch. I discovered that it only takes a brief witnessing of parent/child interaction at your child's school to reaffirm the belief that perhaps you are not doing such a bad job at being a parent after all. The mother that sat beside me at the lunch table had brought a younger child with her who was perhaps three years old. Her kindergarten son and three year old daughter spent most of the time at lunch throwing things back and forth at one another while the mom begged them in a whiny voice to stop.
The parents of the child who sat across from us had packed their child's lunch - and what a healthy alternative they had offered him in place of the cafeteria lunch: The kid had a vat of cheese spread and a roll of crackers. The tub of cheese spread was the kind you get when you order from a school fundraiser - - probably enough for ten people to easily share it - - yet here was this five-year old boy, happily consuming 100 grams of fat in one sitting. Toward the end of the meal, he said to his dad, "I want some of your applesauce," then without hesitation, proceeded to dip his index and middle finger onto his dad's tray into the applesauce and shovel it into his mouth. His dad simply said, "here's my spoon if you want some," as he handed him a utensil to use.
The funny thing is, when I have volunteered in Aleita's classroom, I find that most of these kids are actually fairly well-behaved and pretty nice little kids. When I used to teach elementary school, I often noticed the same thing - - kids will usually live up to whatever set of expectations are provided to them. I had many parents that wondered why their child would behave so much better for me than they would for them. My five-year old is certainly no angel, but you can be sure that if she took her fingers and dipped them into the food on my plate, I would be sure to give her something - though I doubt it would be a spoon.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
LAST ONE THERE IS . . . .
Today, Chris and I drove separately to church because I had chimes practice 1/2 hour before Sunday School. (yes - we drove both cars the whole two blocks to the church - - it was raining, cut us some slack!)
After church, Aleita decided to ride home with me, and Maggie with Chris. Aleita, ever the competitor, said to me, "Hurry up, Mommy! Beat them home!!" She was ever-so-impatient with me as I did the responsible-mom thing and made sure she was properly buckled into her seat belt.
Rotten chicken....rotten egg.....so close.
After church, Aleita decided to ride home with me, and Maggie with Chris. Aleita, ever the competitor, said to me, "Hurry up, Mommy! Beat them home!!" She was ever-so-impatient with me as I did the responsible-mom thing and made sure she was properly buckled into her seat belt.
As if to provide additional incentive to me, she yelled, "C'mon! The last one home's a rotten chicken!!"
Rotten chicken....rotten egg.....so close.
(By the way, we ended up as the "rotten chickens." They beat us home.)
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
SUZI HOMEMAKER
Thanks to my friend Michelle for sending me this link. This commercial seems so antiquated, yet if my older daughter saw this, she would want every single thing mentioned.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3rAiii4LA3k
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3rAiii4LA3k
Thursday, October 29, 2009
WAL-MART - - THE PLACE THAT REALLY DOES HAVE IT ALL
My mom has often referred to Wal-Mart as the "gettin' place" because you can get just about anything there. Gettin' place, indeed. I was listening to a news program on the radio yesterday on my way home from work. One of the news items they mentioned is that Wal-Mart, corporate giant extraordinare, is now selling caskets online. Yes, you read correctly - - the nation's best known big box store is now hawking specially priced coffins for those discount-minded folks that want to lay their love ones to rest without blowing the bank.
I visited Wal-Mart's website and browsed through their selection of caskets which range in price from $895 to $2,899. The "site to store" option is not available for caskets....you have to have it shipped directly to your home. I suppose it would be awkward to go to the service desk to pick up a 250 pound steel coffin anyway. How embarrassing to have to wheel out Grandma's final resting place past the softener salt display and the people buying their groceries. Knowing my luck, I would probably get the cart with the janky wheel and end up accidently smashing it into the shampoo display outside the Wal-Mart Smartstyle Hair Salon.
I was also curious about shipping time. The Wal-Mart site says that it can take 24 - 48 hours to process the order before it is shipped, and it quoted total time until delivery as anywhere between 2 - 5 days. Some questions come to mind:
1) Where does the dearly-departed hang out until their burial chamber arrives?
2) How would you make funeral arrangements if you are unsure when the casket will arrive? Does the newspaper obituary read: "Funeral time TBA, pending casket arrival."
3) Often when someone dies, the loved ones are so grief-stricken that they have trouble putting together the arrangements. In order to facilitate the soonest arrival possible of the casket, do they have to dry their tears, get online, pick out a casket, then resume grieving?
4) Some people make their own funeral preparations ahead of time which saves money, expedites the process, and doesn't leave loved ones having to deal with arrangements while they are racked with grief. Would it be considered odd to order your own casket from Wal-Mart and keep it in the basement until needed?
Finally, I am wondering what others would think of you if then knew you ordered the dearly departed's casket from Wal-Mart. Would they think you as prudent and savvy or cheap and callus? Would they applaud your decision to be budget conscious in these lean times, or would they whisper viciously to each other during the funeral service about what a skinflint you are?
Oh yes - - and would the casket have one of those sunshine yellow happy faces emblazoned on the side?
I visited Wal-Mart's website and browsed through their selection of caskets which range in price from $895 to $2,899. The "site to store" option is not available for caskets....you have to have it shipped directly to your home. I suppose it would be awkward to go to the service desk to pick up a 250 pound steel coffin anyway. How embarrassing to have to wheel out Grandma's final resting place past the softener salt display and the people buying their groceries. Knowing my luck, I would probably get the cart with the janky wheel and end up accidently smashing it into the shampoo display outside the Wal-Mart Smartstyle Hair Salon.
I was also curious about shipping time. The Wal-Mart site says that it can take 24 - 48 hours to process the order before it is shipped, and it quoted total time until delivery as anywhere between 2 - 5 days. Some questions come to mind:
1) Where does the dearly-departed hang out until their burial chamber arrives?
2) How would you make funeral arrangements if you are unsure when the casket will arrive? Does the newspaper obituary read: "Funeral time TBA, pending casket arrival."
3) Often when someone dies, the loved ones are so grief-stricken that they have trouble putting together the arrangements. In order to facilitate the soonest arrival possible of the casket, do they have to dry their tears, get online, pick out a casket, then resume grieving?
4) Some people make their own funeral preparations ahead of time which saves money, expedites the process, and doesn't leave loved ones having to deal with arrangements while they are racked with grief. Would it be considered odd to order your own casket from Wal-Mart and keep it in the basement until needed?
Finally, I am wondering what others would think of you if then knew you ordered the dearly departed's casket from Wal-Mart. Would they think you as prudent and savvy or cheap and callus? Would they applaud your decision to be budget conscious in these lean times, or would they whisper viciously to each other during the funeral service about what a skinflint you are?
Oh yes - - and would the casket have one of those sunshine yellow happy faces emblazoned on the side?
If you would like to check out Wal-Mart's casket
selection, here is the link.
Friday, October 23, 2009
WHAT ARE YOU BUYING? HMM . . . . DEPENDS . ..
I was at Target a few nights ago picking up a some things and got in line to check out. There were only a few people ahead of me, so the line was moving right along. Still, it was the end of the day and I was tired, and I caught myself staring wistfully at the Starbucks as I moved forward in line. The Starbucks is, of course, located strategically just beyond the checkout so that even if I wasn't thinking about wanting one, by the time I leave Target, I always do. I had to remind myself that I would be eating as soon as I got home, and didn't really need the extra few hundred calories from a Chai Latte.
As I was standing there, my thousand-yard-stare was interrupted by the man in front of me saying, "These aren't for me."
I blinked, focused, and looked at him to see what he was talking about. He was a guy in his early 40s, and was standing there very uncomfortably holding a package of adult diapers and waiting for his turn in line.
I hadn't actually noticed that he was holding a package of Depends until he pointed it out. Dude - two words for you - What. Ever. I am a complete stranger that you will never likely see again. Why feel compelled to tell me that you will not be using the disposable drawers you're toting around Target?
I missed a few beats while I took all this in. Finally, I very profoundly answered him: "OK," I said.
Perhaps an "OK" wasn't what he was looking for. Maybe he wanted me to tell him that I too shop at Target all the time for adult diapers for someone other than myself. He was apparently so hyper-sensitive about it that he felt obligated to further explain.
"These are for my father," he said. "He lives with my wife and me - has for past six months. These are for him."
He obviously wasn't going to let this go, but I didn't really know what else to say to him about the matter. Somehow, "good for you!" or "how about that!" didn't really seem appropriate.
Instead, I decided to try to add a little levity to the situation. I held up the package of Batman underwear I was buying for Aleita and said, "These aren't for me. They're for my daughter."
He just looked at me for a moment, rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly as if to say 'whatever' and turned back around. It was soon his turn to go through the cashier's line.
After his chattiness, I was a little surprised. I then quickly realized that he thought I was making fun of him, like "Yeah, those Depends are for your dad like these underpants are for my daughter. Right." I thought about trying to explain that my five-year old daughter is really into boy stuff -- superheroes, action figures, Power Rangers....thus, the Batman underwear. Then I thought, "who cares?"
As I was standing there, my thousand-yard-stare was interrupted by the man in front of me saying, "These aren't for me."
I blinked, focused, and looked at him to see what he was talking about. He was a guy in his early 40s, and was standing there very uncomfortably holding a package of adult diapers and waiting for his turn in line.
I hadn't actually noticed that he was holding a package of Depends until he pointed it out. Dude - two words for you - What. Ever. I am a complete stranger that you will never likely see again. Why feel compelled to tell me that you will not be using the disposable drawers you're toting around Target?
I missed a few beats while I took all this in. Finally, I very profoundly answered him: "OK," I said.
Perhaps an "OK" wasn't what he was looking for. Maybe he wanted me to tell him that I too shop at Target all the time for adult diapers for someone other than myself. He was apparently so hyper-sensitive about it that he felt obligated to further explain.
"These are for my father," he said. "He lives with my wife and me - has for past six months. These are for him."
He obviously wasn't going to let this go, but I didn't really know what else to say to him about the matter. Somehow, "good for you!" or "how about that!" didn't really seem appropriate.
Instead, I decided to try to add a little levity to the situation. I held up the package of Batman underwear I was buying for Aleita and said, "These aren't for me. They're for my daughter."
He just looked at me for a moment, rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly as if to say 'whatever' and turned back around. It was soon his turn to go through the cashier's line.
After his chattiness, I was a little surprised. I then quickly realized that he thought I was making fun of him, like "Yeah, those Depends are for your dad like these underpants are for my daughter. Right." I thought about trying to explain that my five-year old daughter is really into boy stuff -- superheroes, action figures, Power Rangers....thus, the Batman underwear. Then I thought, "who cares?"
GUY FROM THE LINE IN TARGET - -
IF YOU ARE READING THIS,
JUST KNOW THAT IT IS OK - - I BELIEVE YOU!
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
MR. BASS MAN
Dear Mr. Bass Man,
I know you think that when you drive by with your car stereo thumpin' and people turn their heads to look at you, that it somehow means that they are very galvanized with you and your bitchin' stereo system. You seem to feel that we are all in awe of the fact that you can make our windows rattle from 100 feet away with your woofers or tweeters or flippers or waffles or whatever those impressive stereo components are called. It also seems that the louder your music is turned up, the lower you slide in your seat in the car. Sometimes I can barely see you over the dash because you have the seat tilted so far down. Perhaps all the vibration from the bass is weakening your muscular system and causing you to have the inability to remain upright. The same thing happened to my great aunt, but I think hers was caused by calcium deprivation. She could hardly see over the steering wheel in her car either.
I want to let you in on a little secret though, Mr. Bass Man. There is a reason that you never see any women driving a loud, bass booming car and sitting all tilted back in the seat. It is because we think you are ridiculous. We have no desire for our ears to bleed simply by taking a ride in the car. In fact, we find it kind of amusing that your stereo system obviously cost more than the car you are driving. Were you that kid in school that the teacher always wrote on your report card, "seeks attention in inappropriate ways."? I'll be willing to bet you were.
I know, I know....you are working hard to forge a certain image for yourself so that others will see you as a rulebreaker or a badass. You are just trying to carve out your niche and prove you are worthy of notice. But, when you are thirty years old and struggling with hearing loss and realize that you already need a hearing aid, just recall your glory days of cruising around in your rusty Cavalier with the bass a thump-thump-thumpin' and think about how cool you looked all tilted back in the seat with your hand draped over the steering wheel. I am sure you will think that it was all worth it.
I know you think that when you drive by with your car stereo thumpin' and people turn their heads to look at you, that it somehow means that they are very galvanized with you and your bitchin' stereo system. You seem to feel that we are all in awe of the fact that you can make our windows rattle from 100 feet away with your woofers or tweeters or flippers or waffles or whatever those impressive stereo components are called. It also seems that the louder your music is turned up, the lower you slide in your seat in the car. Sometimes I can barely see you over the dash because you have the seat tilted so far down. Perhaps all the vibration from the bass is weakening your muscular system and causing you to have the inability to remain upright. The same thing happened to my great aunt, but I think hers was caused by calcium deprivation. She could hardly see over the steering wheel in her car either.
I want to let you in on a little secret though, Mr. Bass Man. There is a reason that you never see any women driving a loud, bass booming car and sitting all tilted back in the seat. It is because we think you are ridiculous. We have no desire for our ears to bleed simply by taking a ride in the car. In fact, we find it kind of amusing that your stereo system obviously cost more than the car you are driving. Were you that kid in school that the teacher always wrote on your report card, "seeks attention in inappropriate ways."? I'll be willing to bet you were.
I know, I know....you are working hard to forge a certain image for yourself so that others will see you as a rulebreaker or a badass. You are just trying to carve out your niche and prove you are worthy of notice. But, when you are thirty years old and struggling with hearing loss and realize that you already need a hearing aid, just recall your glory days of cruising around in your rusty Cavalier with the bass a thump-thump-thumpin' and think about how cool you looked all tilted back in the seat with your hand draped over the steering wheel. I am sure you will think that it was all worth it.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
QUARANTINED!
Greetings from the Leper Colony. Today was a relatively good day - - though there was still lots of hacking and coughing and blowing of noses, it was the first time in a week that no one was running a fever.
For those of you who don't live in the neighborhood and haven't driven by and seen the big, flashing "PLAGUE" sign posted on the house, we are in isolation mode at the Hale household. A trip to the doctor yesterday resulted in a diagnosis of H1N1 for three of four Hales - - and also one of pneumonia for Maggie. Our kitchen counter now resembles a small pharmacy.
The fourth Hale (me) now has several new exciting hobbies, including drug dispensing, constant surface disinfecting, near-compulsive hand-washing, and putting my hand on my head to check for fever every time I sneeze.
The doctor said that if everyone is fever free over the weekend, they can return to their lives on Monday. Hope springs eternal that I will avoid this illness altogether. If not, at least I will have the couch to myself.
For those of you who don't live in the neighborhood and haven't driven by and seen the big, flashing "PLAGUE" sign posted on the house, we are in isolation mode at the Hale household. A trip to the doctor yesterday resulted in a diagnosis of H1N1 for three of four Hales - - and also one of pneumonia for Maggie. Our kitchen counter now resembles a small pharmacy.
The fourth Hale (me) now has several new exciting hobbies, including drug dispensing, constant surface disinfecting, near-compulsive hand-washing, and putting my hand on my head to check for fever every time I sneeze.
The doctor said that if everyone is fever free over the weekend, they can return to their lives on Monday. Hope springs eternal that I will avoid this illness altogether. If not, at least I will have the couch to myself.
Friday, October 16, 2009
A WEE BIT
Today I was eating lunch in Panera and I went to use the restroom. It was a two hole joint, and I opted for the non-handicapped facility. The water was running in the bowl as the toilet filled from a recent flush from a prior occupant. As I went to close the stall door, I noticed a dribble ring all over the seat. I quickly opened the door that I had begun to close and spied the culprit at the sink, washing her hands.
"Hmm...," I thought, "she can urinate all over the seat, but still belongs to the clean-hands club. Interesting..."
Said I, "Did you just come out of this stall?"
Said she, "Yes. Why?
Said I, "Because you peed all over the seat."
Said she, "I did?!?" (sounding all shocked and pious...c'mon....really??? You knew you did!! If you want to squat, fine.... but don't act all superior when someone calls you on your seat shower.)
Embarrassed, her cheeks turned pink. I gave her "the look" (it's similar to the "mom" look, but has a "whatever, bitch" attached to it) and proceeded into the handicapped stall. I was amazed to notice that she did indeed go into her previously desecrated stall and wipe up her mess. She then exited the bathroom. I know she was probably indignant, but it wasn't exactly a moment that she could go gripe about to her friends.
"Hmm...," I thought, "she can urinate all over the seat, but still belongs to the clean-hands club. Interesting..."
Said I, "Did you just come out of this stall?"
Said she, "Yes. Why?
Said I, "Because you peed all over the seat."
Said she, "I did?!?" (sounding all shocked and pious...c'mon....really??? You knew you did!! If you want to squat, fine.... but don't act all superior when someone calls you on your seat shower.)
Embarrassed, her cheeks turned pink. I gave her "the look" (it's similar to the "mom" look, but has a "whatever, bitch" attached to it) and proceeded into the handicapped stall. I was amazed to notice that she did indeed go into her previously desecrated stall and wipe up her mess. She then exited the bathroom. I know she was probably indignant, but it wasn't exactly a moment that she could go gripe about to her friends.
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