You are Not Funny.

SB and I did a little shopping at Michael's yesterday.  We bought fingerpaints and some canvases.  I will regret this purchase when I'm scrubbing orange paint off of our white dog in a few weeks, I'm sure.  But it seemed like a good idea at the time.  We also bought a big bucket and shovel so she won't have to steal other kids' toys at the park sandbox.  Fun stuff.
Anyway, we stopped at Brueggers for a quick lunch and all was going quite well. SB was munching away on her egg and cheese bagel and I was happily eating my Herby Turkey when it happened.  The very large (read: 300+ lb) guy who works at the bagel place comes around the corner  VERY LOUDLY saying "HI LITTLE GIRL ARE YOU ENJOYING YOUR LUNCH?"  and comes at her like he's going to steal her sandwich.  Really, dude?  REALLY?  Do you think my little girl thinks that's funny?  Um, no, as evident by the way she threw the remainder of her lunch on the floor, stuck out her lower lip and proceeded to bawl like she was heading to the pediatrician's office.  The guy looked at me sheepishly,  said "sorry, ma'am" and scurried away while the other employees ridiculed him for making a little girl cry.  I know, I know, the guy meant well, but I am so sick of people doing this to her.  She's not a skittish kid, but for the love of God, Bagel dude, you startled me,  imagine what a 3 foot tall person would think of you.
Let this be a lesson to all strange men (and some strange women.)  That means you, if you do not know the kid you're about to accost.  You are a scary stranger.  If you must acknowledge the cuteness of my baby girl in some way, a smile or a little wave will do.  Speak softly.  Please do not scare the bejeezus out of my daughter in an attempt to be funny.  Not only did she lose out on half her lunch, but her Mommy had to get on the floor of the icky bagel store and pick up the mess.  And it was hard to identify which mess was ours and which belonged to a previous customer.  Gross.  Perhaps if Mr. Funny Bagel Man did his job more and scared little girls less the floors wouldn't be so dirty?

No Nap = No Good

What is up with my sweet baby not napping?  I don't understand it.  She usually naps like a champ.  This week, not so much.  Yesterday she "laa-laa-laa"d in her crib for almost 2 hours before she fell asleep and of course I had to wake her up shortly after because it was almost 4 o'clock and she had to eat lunch before dinner was ready.  Today, no nap whatsoever.  She la-laa'd for 90 minutes before starting to protest loudly.  So we sprung her from the clink and off she ran to the living room to play.  Perhaps I need to adjust her schedule.  Because as much as I love having Miss Priss up and about, it's really hard to get things done that need doing.  Her naptime is my prime time cleaning, prep-cooking, and computer time.  Tomorrow morning is her swim lesson so hopefully she'll be tuckered out and ready to snooze.  (That's right, I just said tuckered out like I'm Ma Ingalls on the Prarie.)  The trick is keeping her awake for the car ride home.  I have resorted to rolling windows up and down and pumping her full of fruit squeezie to make it home before she sleeps.  Because if she does fall asleep, she considers that her nap and then the day is totally screwed up. 

Of course, with recent news stories about random shootings on my route to swim school, that will make the trip lively for her as Mommy dodges bullets on the way home.  Seriously, on the very road that I take to the pool, there were teenagers (they think) randomly shooting at cars the other morning.  Just for kicks.  They hit a minivan with a Mom and 3 kids.  Thank God no one was hit or injured.  What kind of punk-a$$ coward shoots at a minivan full of kids from his apartment window just for the hell of it?  What is this world coming to?  Well, let me say to this monster, that if you EVER attempt to hurt a hair on my baby girl's head I will find you and I will tear out your throat with my bare hands.  Do not mess with me.  Thanks to these wastes of human beings, I'll have to take an alternate route tomorrow, as I have no idea if they ever caught the suspects or what.  Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll rob a Subway and get shot by a fed-up clerk.  Not that I'd wish that on the Subway guy, but lately fast food workers seem to taking care of a lot of the criminals around here and saving taxpayer money.  Between these stories and all the recent daytime home invasions, Kurt's idea about moving to the mountains to raise goats doesn't sound so bad...anyone know anything about goats?

The neighbors are at it again...

Yesterday morning I hear a ruckus next door so I look out the window to see my neighbors' worthless grown son in the front yard drinking a beer (at 10:42 AM, really?) and watching his son who could not be more than twelve ON THE ROOF with the blower clearing leaves.  Hello, DSS?  Isn't that child endangerment?  The house has a walk out basement so while the front may not be terribly high, if he went over the sides or the back of Grandma's house he would most certainly be paralyzed or worse. Idiots.

The only reason we are hoping our neighbors don't succumb to lung cancer anytime soon (they spend all day smoking their carport) is because if they kick the bucket, you can guarantee this classy guy would move in.
He doesn't even live there, yet he brought a totaled piece o' crap truck over and left it in their front yard.  (Been there a month now, not that I'm keeping track or anything.) The vehicle does not have a roof - it was completely caved in, yet he managed to drive it over to dear old Mom and Dad's house.  But he put a tarp halfway over it so it's ok.  I am not at all bothered by staring out the kitchen window into a junkyard as I sip my morning coffee.  Why the heck did he bring it over to his parents' house anyway?  Do they not allow junk cars at the trailer park or extended stay motel where he surely resides?  Or maybe he's trying to hide evidence.  Whatever the reason, it's got to go. 

Jiffy Pop

The other day Kurt and I were reminiscing about Jiffy Pop. You remember, the popcorn you cooked on the stove top by shaking it back and forth with the little metal handle.  As kids, we watched with excitement as the foil expanded larger and larger until you were sure it was going to explode all over the kitchen releasing its popcorny goodness with a BANG.  Now those were some fun times.  No microwaves floating through those kernels.

I was at the store yesterday and decided to look for a Jiffy Pop to indulge our nostalgia.  There it was, sitting on the bottom shelf, hidden below the dozens of microwaveable versions.  Yippie it still exists!

So we get to the register and the sweet young girl checking me out picks up the Jiffy Pop and says, "oh this is neat.  But doesn't the handle get hot in the microwave?"

I explained to her the whole concept of shaking it on the stove top and no you don't actually put it in the microwave, that Jiffy Pop pre-dates the microwave.  She looked at me like I had three heads.

Ugh.  I am old.

Father of the Year

Grandma and I took SB to the park yesterday evening for a  stroll in the grass before dinnertime.  She had a blast exploring the fields at Freedom Park and clearly demonstrated a future in sanitation as she attempted to pick up every scrap of trash in the park.  Paper wrappers, bottle caps, cigarette butts...you don't realize how much litter is out there until you have a toddler attempting to pick it up. 

Anyway, I observed a candidate for "father of the year" while we were there.   He was with his little son who looked about 3.  Dad was demonstrating how to kick a soccer ball into a big oak tree as hard as he could, and his son went running under the tree to catch the ball.  What he almost caught was a giant tree limb in the HEAD.  Missed him by inches.  Nice job Dad.  So what does he do instead of running over to his son to make sure he's okay?  He kicks the ball up into the tree again.  Seriously?  People should have a license to have kids.

To the Parents of the Graduating Class of 2027

With all the talk in the news about bullying and kids committing suicide as a result, to say I'm scared about Sarah Beth going out into this big wide world would be an understatement.  The thought of anyone ever being mean to this precious little person makes my stomach churn.  You can teach your children to be confident and kind, but how do you protect them from the small-minded, weak people out in the universe who find pleasure in knocking others down?

I know I have 4 years before sweet Sarah Beth goes off to school, but it's a terrifying thought.  If society is this messed up already, how will it be when she's in grammar school, a teenager, a college student?  I long for a childhood for her like I had, when 6-year-olds could walk to school by themselves and ride bikes all afternoon with their friends without fear. When we didn't lock our doors.  When most of the kids we started with in preschool were the same kids in our high school graduating class.  When kids were allowed to be kids.  When kids were innocent of so much of the ugliness in the world.  When kissing a boy in 8th grade was a HUGE deal.  When little girls didn't worry about being supermodel skinny, not that it mattered because we were all skin and bones from playing outside all day.  I know I'm looking back with rose-colored glasses - I'm sure kids were picked on and teased.  I'm sure I was one of them at some point, being the shy goody-goody that I was, but I can't remember one person in my youth who was ever really unkind to me.  Good God, certainly nothing like what's all over the news today.   Teenage girls hanging themselves in their closet because some other girls said mean things about them on Facebook or sent rude text messages?  Young men jumping off a bridge because some stupid kids outed him on the internet?  Were people always this heartless but it just got magnified because of all the "advances"  in technology?  Or is it that people can separate themselves from the pain that they are inflicting by hiding behind their computers and cell phones.

Whatever it is, this downward spiral has to stop or I, for one, will be moving our family to a desert island devoid of internet, cell phones, and mean people.  We all start out more or less the same.  Sweet, cuddly babies wanting love and care.  How does it happen that some children grow up to pick on other children?  What is it that these bullies are lacking that drives them to thrive off of the misery of others?  What is screwing up our children?

I hope that all the parents of the graduating class of 2027 feel the same way I do, and teach their children to be nice to others.  To have a good heart.  To show kindness to everyone.  To believe in themselves.  To stand up for those who do get picked on and to let the bullies know that their meanness will not be tolerated.  I have so many dreams for my little girl.  To me, the most important values that I can instill in her are kindness, compassion and love.  I hope her future friends and classmates and teachers and community will embrace her and love her as we do.

Please indulge me as I stroll down memory lane, I'd like to thank my wonderful, sweet best childhood girlfriends who loved me for who I was and never made me feel less.  Jen, my dear friend of 34 years who is still my sister in my heart even though I hardly ever get to see her.  Ishy, my kindergarten pal who danced to Copacabana with me in her basement, introduced me to the piano, and explored the wild woods of her backyard with me.  Hoda, my outgoing creative friend who was friends with everyone but always had time to spend with me eating peanut M&Ms and pizza in front of old movies on a Friday night or making silly movies of our own with her Dad's video camera.  Thank you.  And thank you to your parents for raising such great kids who grew up to be beautiful women, inside and out.

Sister Wives

I am ashamed to admit it but I stayed up late last night watching that polygamy reality show on TLC .  You want to watch it too, admit it.  So the guy is "married" to 3 women and is bringing a 4th into the harem.  Between the 3 wives, he has like 12 kids and one on the way.  Candidate number 4 has 3 kids of her own.  Seriously? 
So many things confound me here.  But my main problem with it is, this guy is a real tool.  He has weird hair and acts like a total d-bag (pardon the expression but it's true.)  What is so appealing about him that he gets 4 women to agree to share him as a husband?
Now I can see some of the appeal of having a "sister" wife.  Someone to help with the laundry and cleaning and errands and cooking.  Um, but she's also sleeping with your husband?  Ew.  And why oh why do they need that many flippin' kids?  The whole thing is just bizarre.  I know, they say it's part of their religion or whatever, but I read The 19th Wife and call me crazy, it sure seems like an elaborate scam for a man to get a newer model when he gets bored.
What really blew me away was the scene where he gets into his LEXUS SPORTS CAR to go drive 5 hours to meet up with #4.  Even if he has some killer job or is independently wealthy, how does it make sense that he drives a $45,000 car when he has 15+ kids to send to college?  I'm just sayin...

Great morning, but...

With the pollen count finally receding from terrorist threat level Orange and the beautiful blue sky today, I thought we’d venture out to Freedom Park for one of those Mommy/Baby mornings that I daydreamed about when I was still at the cube farm. We had a very nice walk, but there were a few things that I could have done without:

(1) Woman sitting in car in the parking lot with door open screaming into cell phone “If you don’t shut up I am going to reach through this phone and hit you in the neck.” I don’t know what the other party said but she was not kidding. I think she would have done it. How can you be that pissed at someone at 9 in the morning? Awesome start to our walk.

(2) The seventeen people mowing grass. I am highly allergic to grass. At the height of pollen season a few weeks ago I wouldn’t let Kurt add to my misery by mowing the lawn. I guess it looked pretty rough because our neighbor’s son-in-law went ahead and mowed it for us. Oops. Anyway, Thursdays are landscape days at Freedom Park, apparently. Remind me not to go on Thursdays. We stuck to the greenway and stayed away from the green death as much as possible, but I still must’ve sneezed 35 times on the way home. Talk about distracted driving.

(3) The BOBs. For those of you not in the know, BOB is “the” jogger stroller to have. We are in the have-nots because we can’t bring ourselves to shell out $350 for one, but I covet, oh do I covet as I limp along in my four-wheeled piece o’ junk Graco Metrolite. Sarah Beth seems to like it just fine, but if I speed up to anything more than a brisk walk, the thing wobbles like a broke-down shopping cart. Oh and by the way, all the BOB Mommies are skinny and cute in their little jogging shorts and tank tops. Damn them.

(4) The Junior Leaguer in the pearls. Ok, I don’t know that she was a Junior Leaguer and there’s nothing wrong with the Junior League – it’s a perfectly nice organization that does wonderful charitable things. But when I saw this girl bopping along in jogging pants, a white t-shirt, baseball cap and a long strand of PEARLS, all I could think was, give me a break, Junior Leaguer. I don’t even wear my wedding band to the park because I don’t want to attract anyone’s attention who may be looking for an easy target, and this chick is sporting pearls? I wonder if she wears them to sleep. I realize that I am a little obsessed about this but for some reason it really got on my nerves.

(5) Guy smoking a cigarette on a bench beside the Greenway. Um, dude did you not get the memo? Smoking is not cool anymore, James Dean, and it’s BAD for you, so put out your butt (throw it in a trash can please) and spare the rest of us, who are out here for some fresh air, not here to inhale the fumes from your cancer stick.

A personal message to the guy with the two little yorkies: When I say, awww such cute puppies, YOU are supposed to say, “and what a beautiful baby you have!” That’s how it works. Not just a nod and a smile. Got it? We will be back (not on Thursdays) and I expect a little more enthusiasm over my precious little girl. Thanks.