What it takes for a blabber mouth like me to be silent on a blog for 2 weeks? We are talking some major withdrawal, and I have so much to blog about now, that I don't even know where to start, other than, ice storm outages and catching up make for a very cranky blogger.
Let’s just start with today, I just returned from taking my grandmother to the Dr. in NH. I believe that I may have gone on the survival tips for the generational squeeze between 3 and 93...But let me just tell you, getting out of Kohl’s, with my brain still in tact, Henry still alive, and my grandmother still knowing where she was, was...well....an act of GOD.
I love my grandmother. I always feel the need to say that. I know that there are those of you out there tsk tsking me because I dare talk about her in a funny way...but you know what? It is reality and I am pretty sure that Henry will be sky writing "my mom wears Depends" when it is my turn, so I am just not going to feel too bad about it…as I always say “it is what it is."
My grandmother is starting to show her 93 years in many ways, so as most of us need, or will need when we are older, she needs a lot of assistance with getting things done. I took her Christmas shopping, so between making sure that my grandmother was following me, and my son was not too far ahead feeling the panties on a manikin (which he has been known to do) I was a little stretched.
After monitoring the decision making process on a gift for my mother which was apparently a life altering choice, and seemed to take the brain power of an I-Mac, I was able to unlatch Henry from the spinny rack that he was under spinning and get to the check out.
I was sort of relieved because we were on our way out and how bad could it be to check out right?
IT IS CHRISTMAS…in KOHLS.
(This is not to leave out any other religious celebrations this time of year but it is the Christmas celebrators that are the most militant shoppers, lets face it.)
We got in line, with the little chains to lead us in the right direction (because we wouldn’t have been able to tell that by the 1000 people in front of us)
My grandmother was starting to stress out about whether they had boxes, and if she could use a credit card, and whether the sky was going to fall in, while Henry man handled EVERY item in that “just incase you wanted more” shelving area that they put sadistically next to the line to check out.
We finally get to the check out, and my grandmother informs the woman that no, she doesn’t want a Kohls card because she doesn’t have one near her. The woman smiles and says “Oh, where are you from?” My grandmother looks at her and replies “Kennebunk.” This was followed by a confused look from the cashier and an even more confused look from my grandmother because we were only 10 minutes away from Kennebunk!
While they were in their battle of locked confusion I hear “Next Puuuwson” in a very familiar voice, I turn to find that Henry was at an empty register punching buttons and asking for the next person in line…no I am NOT kidding.
I tear him away, to swipe my grandmothers card and try to get her to sign the electronic thingy with the fake pen…which is altogether just baffling her, while looking pleadingly at the check out lady saying “Can’t you just swipe this your self???” Of course not, because then, she might break one of her 10 inch nails with spider webs embedded on them.
By the time I got them both back to the car holding hands, elbows and bags…I was ready for some alone time…and some wine…and a massage….and a lobotomy…
Friday, December 19, 2008
Monday, December 8, 2008
A Little Ditty to Ponder
Cleaning with Henry is much like holding your tissue in one hand and wiping your nose with the other.
I had to undertake the insurmountable task of rearranging and cleaning out Henry's room. With the new addition we had pretty much just shoved him in there and not taken much time to even clean the closet out of the girls things.
In an effort to have all his things in one room, and remove the toy box from my already too small den, I had to rearrange his room and find space for everything.
I diligently went around the room putting things away. By the time one thing left my hand and I picked up another, he was already playing with the thing I had just put away.
It was like a constant game of round robin in child toy hell.
But alas it is done. I will be spending some time this afternoon before I go to work, creating a gas mask and full suit of armour as I am taking on Caroline's room tomorrow...
If no one hears from me, I may have been taken down by a toppling pile of laundry, or perhaps just eaten by one of her many stuffed to the brim bags laying around her room...
I had to undertake the insurmountable task of rearranging and cleaning out Henry's room. With the new addition we had pretty much just shoved him in there and not taken much time to even clean the closet out of the girls things.
In an effort to have all his things in one room, and remove the toy box from my already too small den, I had to rearrange his room and find space for everything.
I diligently went around the room putting things away. By the time one thing left my hand and I picked up another, he was already playing with the thing I had just put away.
It was like a constant game of round robin in child toy hell.
But alas it is done. I will be spending some time this afternoon before I go to work, creating a gas mask and full suit of armour as I am taking on Caroline's room tomorrow...
If no one hears from me, I may have been taken down by a toppling pile of laundry, or perhaps just eaten by one of her many stuffed to the brim bags laying around her room...
Friday, December 5, 2008
Henry the Teacher
Today I went with my sister to Target...the place where my wallet seems to empty itself every time...but you know I think it is a conspiracy... Those Dollar bins are just EVIL. Somehow I think that I really do need "Cars" stickers, and pretty little felt bags to put the teachers presents in...it just all makes sense at the moment and then I get home and look at them...and wonder what kind of wacky weed smoke is blowing through their speaker system.
My niece and Henry go to preschool together, so they are pretty comfortable with, well, telling each other what to do if we are just honest about it. Henry steps out of line, and Margo is very quickly there to shake her finger at him and say "Henry James!" and Margo gets what I like to call "Henry's life lessons" along the way....It is all well and good.
Today's lesson from Henry, was picking up a huge Santa, handing it to Margo and saying in a very preschoolish teacher voice "Margo, look, this is a Santa Jesus"
My sister and I were looking at bird ornaments made to look like real birds...(because you know, we really NEEDED them) I didn't really need to even look up, I just nodded and said, "Yes, Stephanie, he did just call that a Santa Jesus."
Of course it is always good for some comedic relief...but the best part is when Margo starts to cry and yells "No" to Henry, and he looks at me and in his very accusatory, "I've been wronged" voice yells "Margo won't let me RUB HER." Because that just makes the entire store stare at the two of us like we are some sort cretins that have come off the mountain and brought our young out into the open for the first time. But hey, he learned when a girl says no, man she means it.
Well, life just wouldn't be right if I didn't die of embarrassment every time I go out with the boy.
My niece and Henry go to preschool together, so they are pretty comfortable with, well, telling each other what to do if we are just honest about it. Henry steps out of line, and Margo is very quickly there to shake her finger at him and say "Henry James!" and Margo gets what I like to call "Henry's life lessons" along the way....It is all well and good.
Today's lesson from Henry, was picking up a huge Santa, handing it to Margo and saying in a very preschoolish teacher voice "Margo, look, this is a Santa Jesus"
My sister and I were looking at bird ornaments made to look like real birds...(because you know, we really NEEDED them) I didn't really need to even look up, I just nodded and said, "Yes, Stephanie, he did just call that a Santa Jesus."
Of course it is always good for some comedic relief...but the best part is when Margo starts to cry and yells "No" to Henry, and he looks at me and in his very accusatory, "I've been wronged" voice yells "Margo won't let me RUB HER." Because that just makes the entire store stare at the two of us like we are some sort cretins that have come off the mountain and brought our young out into the open for the first time. But hey, he learned when a girl says no, man she means it.
Well, life just wouldn't be right if I didn't die of embarrassment every time I go out with the boy.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Apparently I AM Getting Cranky
As I age, and I believe I have said this before, I think that we loose our sense of humor. Life becomes more about pointing out the differences in our kid’s world to the one that we grew up in, than adjusting. You know, the whole 2 miles walking up hill, both ways, barefoot in the snow, to school thing.
The other day when I sat down to a late lunch I turned on the TV thinking I would catch the news. The only thing on the regular channels was Inside Edition.
As I bit into my sandwich, I hear the plug for it: “The place for hard news.” By the time I finished my illustrious meal, I had learned about Brittany Spears 27th birthday party, what Michelle Obama was wearing and how, I too, could achieve that look, and the various romance partners of Jennifer Aniston.
Am I really getting that cranky? Because the last time I checked the country was in a recession, two wars, and I am pretty sure that there was a hostage situation last week and a few bombings.
I must be cranky, because, why would I want to hear about that when I could find out who baked Brittany’s Cake and what it was made of and how much it cost?
When I was a kid, and the president was on, I just went up stairs to read because there wouldn’t be anything else on the TV….NOW you can’t find the news on TV, because there are bimbos waiting to be the rap stars “chosen one”, and idiots vying to be Paris Hiltons BFF, and Lord knows I need to know what Angelina Jolie wore to the hospital to have her twins in FRANCE.
See???…Crankity Crank Crank Crank.
**DISCLAIMER*** Mind you I didn't turn off the TV, and did get all the juice though...so, perhaps I shouldn't wag my finger too much! lol
The other day when I sat down to a late lunch I turned on the TV thinking I would catch the news. The only thing on the regular channels was Inside Edition.
As I bit into my sandwich, I hear the plug for it: “The place for hard news.” By the time I finished my illustrious meal, I had learned about Brittany Spears 27th birthday party, what Michelle Obama was wearing and how, I too, could achieve that look, and the various romance partners of Jennifer Aniston.
Am I really getting that cranky? Because the last time I checked the country was in a recession, two wars, and I am pretty sure that there was a hostage situation last week and a few bombings.
I must be cranky, because, why would I want to hear about that when I could find out who baked Brittany’s Cake and what it was made of and how much it cost?
When I was a kid, and the president was on, I just went up stairs to read because there wouldn’t be anything else on the TV….NOW you can’t find the news on TV, because there are bimbos waiting to be the rap stars “chosen one”, and idiots vying to be Paris Hiltons BFF, and Lord knows I need to know what Angelina Jolie wore to the hospital to have her twins in FRANCE.
See???…Crankity Crank Crank Crank.
**DISCLAIMER*** Mind you I didn't turn off the TV, and did get all the juice though...so, perhaps I shouldn't wag my finger too much! lol
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
The Mason Dixon Line
I was thinking about my week, visiting my family in VA and NC, and going back to my Alma Mater Virginia Tech. I miss it down there sometimes, but I love it here too.
As many of you know my father is from the South, and my mother is from Maine...(I grew up in NH)
My southern husband says I'm "not half bad" I will let you all decipher which half is the not bad half for yourselves, I dare not enter into that debate. (The fact that I was born in Charlottesville, home of the Wahoos…well, I have been forgiven on all counts of that offense, being that I was too young to know what I was doing when I decided to make my entrance into the world.)
But the fact that I am halfsies, I have come to really appreciate some of the differences and the similarities. (Shhhh there are some…As you also may know, the civil war, or the war of Northern aggression depending on which of my grandmothers you are talking to, ended quite some years ago...It can still be a touchy subject.)
I enjoy sweet tea. Not the kind of sweet tea that you get here with just 10 pounds of sugar dropped into your cold tea and it all settles to the bottom, but brewed in so it is just the right amount of sweetness to add ten pounds to your butt while you on vacation with out you realizing it.
I love the BBQ, which down there I quickly learned is pulled pork, up here? It is any meat with BBQ sauce on it… not as good…But there are things here that I love too…
I like not having to “dress” to go to the store. This does not mean that I have made a practice of going to the store in my birthday suit, just with out make up, in my sweatpants and my sweaty “just ran” hair, with my three kids hanging off of every appendage. It is a wonder that they don’t lock the doors before my nastified self walks in, but you know what? There are about 10 other people that look like that too, because we knew that it was more important to get dinner for tonight, than to look good getting it.
I love that in the winter I have snow, and hot chocolate, and actually have a reason other than a 50 degree day to drink it. And I love how nitty gritty the grassroots operation of life is here.
One thing I find interesting is, down there, the Blue Grass music, is very similar to the Irish Music here…(their roots are same…) So when I sing at my church, most of the time people think that I should be in a pub…they don’t realize that I could also be flat footing on a board in my bare feet.
I have been pondering my life in both places, having now lived my life almost equally divided on either side of the Mason Dixon Line.
I will put up with my grandmother from the south thinking that her yard is being invaded by the uglier, meaner, “Northern Cardinal” (not realizing that there is no other cardinal, and is convinced that the “southern,” nicer, prettier one, is their state bird and the northern one is again, aggressing itself into her southern yard)
Because you know what? It is nice to be from both places, and be able to enjoy them both…and that is all I have to say about that!
Y’all come back real soon now, Y’hear?
As many of you know my father is from the South, and my mother is from Maine...(I grew up in NH)
My southern husband says I'm "not half bad" I will let you all decipher which half is the not bad half for yourselves, I dare not enter into that debate. (The fact that I was born in Charlottesville, home of the Wahoos…well, I have been forgiven on all counts of that offense, being that I was too young to know what I was doing when I decided to make my entrance into the world.)
But the fact that I am halfsies, I have come to really appreciate some of the differences and the similarities. (Shhhh there are some…As you also may know, the civil war, or the war of Northern aggression depending on which of my grandmothers you are talking to, ended quite some years ago...It can still be a touchy subject.)
I enjoy sweet tea. Not the kind of sweet tea that you get here with just 10 pounds of sugar dropped into your cold tea and it all settles to the bottom, but brewed in so it is just the right amount of sweetness to add ten pounds to your butt while you on vacation with out you realizing it.
I love the BBQ, which down there I quickly learned is pulled pork, up here? It is any meat with BBQ sauce on it… not as good…But there are things here that I love too…
I like not having to “dress” to go to the store. This does not mean that I have made a practice of going to the store in my birthday suit, just with out make up, in my sweatpants and my sweaty “just ran” hair, with my three kids hanging off of every appendage. It is a wonder that they don’t lock the doors before my nastified self walks in, but you know what? There are about 10 other people that look like that too, because we knew that it was more important to get dinner for tonight, than to look good getting it.
I love that in the winter I have snow, and hot chocolate, and actually have a reason other than a 50 degree day to drink it. And I love how nitty gritty the grassroots operation of life is here.
One thing I find interesting is, down there, the Blue Grass music, is very similar to the Irish Music here…(their roots are same…) So when I sing at my church, most of the time people think that I should be in a pub…they don’t realize that I could also be flat footing on a board in my bare feet.
I have been pondering my life in both places, having now lived my life almost equally divided on either side of the Mason Dixon Line.
I will put up with my grandmother from the south thinking that her yard is being invaded by the uglier, meaner, “Northern Cardinal” (not realizing that there is no other cardinal, and is convinced that the “southern,” nicer, prettier one, is their state bird and the northern one is again, aggressing itself into her southern yard)
Because you know what? It is nice to be from both places, and be able to enjoy them both…and that is all I have to say about that!
Y’all come back real soon now, Y’hear?
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Monday, December 1, 2008
Saving Grace
I know that by all standards of today’s parental codes, I am supposed to abolish the sinful corruption of TV from my children’s lives. I should be protecting them from all those harmful shows that are permeating our culture and creating callous adults.
Because you know, I totally can see how something like Franklin can be harmful to their development. All that learning to cooperate and handle social issues by a turtle on two legs is just wrong… and I have always wondered about the Little Einstein’s…always getting into stuff and learning…what is wrong with them!
All snark aside, I have to be honest and admit, that in the past, I always held a little contempt for those people who put on shows in their car for their kids on a trip to the store. I mean if when I was little, I had to suffer playing I-Spy and the License Plate Game for 14 endless hours cramped in the van with my sister and my dog, then daggonit, they ought to be able to go to the store…
My song has changed since I have had to take kids to my parents 15 hours away. I couldn’t beg for a car DVD player hard enough. And I feel a little vindicated because after a car ride that was supposed to take 13 hours, took 17 yesterday, I cannot stress the benefits of movies in cars.
I know, I know, all the shaking of heads and looking at the ground...I have now joined the masses of horrid parents that allow the atrophy of brains on car rides.
Let’s be clear, I don’t find the need to set up a show for the trip to the corner store, but you know what? I believe that I am saving lives. Because the alternative to the silence of a multi media coma during a horrible storm on the Merrit Parkway, is me pulling over and leaving the whiny “when are we going to get there,” “why are you slamming the breaks on,” and “oooh you just said a bad word” children on the side of the road where surely they would be joined by the other masses of children being expelled from their cars in NYC by tired, frustrated parents.
See? I am not giving in to the TV monster; I am simply saving the lives of three children who couldn’t possibly know their fate otherwise!
Because you know, I totally can see how something like Franklin can be harmful to their development. All that learning to cooperate and handle social issues by a turtle on two legs is just wrong… and I have always wondered about the Little Einstein’s…always getting into stuff and learning…what is wrong with them!
All snark aside, I have to be honest and admit, that in the past, I always held a little contempt for those people who put on shows in their car for their kids on a trip to the store. I mean if when I was little, I had to suffer playing I-Spy and the License Plate Game for 14 endless hours cramped in the van with my sister and my dog, then daggonit, they ought to be able to go to the store…
My song has changed since I have had to take kids to my parents 15 hours away. I couldn’t beg for a car DVD player hard enough. And I feel a little vindicated because after a car ride that was supposed to take 13 hours, took 17 yesterday, I cannot stress the benefits of movies in cars.
I know, I know, all the shaking of heads and looking at the ground...I have now joined the masses of horrid parents that allow the atrophy of brains on car rides.
Let’s be clear, I don’t find the need to set up a show for the trip to the corner store, but you know what? I believe that I am saving lives. Because the alternative to the silence of a multi media coma during a horrible storm on the Merrit Parkway, is me pulling over and leaving the whiny “when are we going to get there,” “why are you slamming the breaks on,” and “oooh you just said a bad word” children on the side of the road where surely they would be joined by the other masses of children being expelled from their cars in NYC by tired, frustrated parents.
See? I am not giving in to the TV monster; I am simply saving the lives of three children who couldn’t possibly know their fate otherwise!
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