Carolena just saw a picture of Alf and said to me, and I quote, "I wish that Grandma would make that costume for me."
I could barely speak for love and pride of my child.
Finally, I uttered an inane stammering response, "Alf? You want an Alf costume?" I asked for clarification. To which she responded, "Yes, I wish that Grandma would make Alf costumes for our whole family."
Me too, Carolena. Me too.
Thursday, January 8, 2015
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
Is That a Speck of Sawdust in Your Eye?
A few weeks ago I found myself perusing the wine aisles at Kroger while my two munchkins chowed down on the free sample cookies we'd scored. Okay, okay, there is a slight chance that I too was munching on the free sugar high. We weren't long on the wine aisle before some familiar faces came by. They too were looking for wine as in-laws were going to be at their home for an extended stay. In our family, grandparents bring a suitcase full of wine and coffee knowing that both will be consumed in large quantities. Evidently this is not true for all families. Go figure.
Anyway, Carolena and her friends commenced what appeared to be a break dancing contest to which the other mother turned a blind eye while I screeched "Don't you dare break any of this wine!" It was around this time that Carolena began to check out the grocery items in the other family's cart. And just what was her friends' cart? Frozen cereal.
Frozen cereal for Pete's sake.
Not frozen cereal like something you might find stashed between a bag of corn and a boxed pizza. Frozen cereal as in Elsa, Anna, Olaf and the rest of the gang. Frozen cereal as in a kid's Gucci bag. Frozen cereal as in this was the same girl who had asked Santa for "apps" this year. Apps.
Since that day Carolena has asked exactly one time to get Frozen cereal. I think she knew asking even once was a long shot. That's the kind of thing grandparents buy. And at the age of three she has probably already noticed that we're more dented cans kind of people than made-in-house guacamole types. What she will hopefully grow to learn as time goes by is why I can't bring myself to buy expensive groceries. I'm sure she'll spend some time yearning for her version of a Dooney bag, but if I do my job right, eventually she too will shun the Starbucks brand coffee in favor of Costco's Kirkland in bulk.
It's not about the money per se.
Well, that's not true. It's almost entirely about money.
There is something about the fact that there are people in this world, many many people in fact, without enough to eat that makes me steer clear of the organic chicken. Yes, yes, I know that it's kinder to the chickens. And yes, I know that it's better for my family. But... I am grateful to even afford chicken at all. So I stop in front of those poor lifeless frozen (with a lower case f) chicken and give thanks that I can buy food. We keep beans stocked in the pantry not only because we love red beans and rice, but also because I don't want to be the rich man passing by Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31).
I mean no offense to Frozen cereal buying people. Even as I type I am certain I am peering right around the log sticking out of my eye. But for me, for now, I will rest easier knowing that there are people eating tonight because we spent our extra grocery money on cans for the food bank. I will serve dinner from some dented marked down boxes so that we can send some money to ERD. And in the morning when Carolena and Nils sit down at our kitchen table I can open the bag of store brand Happy O's and pour them each a bowl, thankful for the fact that we have so much food and love in our home.
You know what? That's not true either.
That's who I would like to be.
Instead, I am the mom who serves her kids red beans and rice and then beats myself up that we don't do enough. I lie awake in bed worrying over unknown people, unseen faces who are suffering. Chris sometimes accuses me of secretly wearing a hair shirt. But, I am who I am. And like Erma Bombeck, "When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, 'I used everything you gave me'."
I hope that someday Carolena and Nils will choose to spend their money on others rather than themselves. Though it is counter-intuitive, it remains true that breakfast from a crushed box of off brand oatmeal fills the stomach much more than a bowl of Frozen cereal.
Anyway, Carolena and her friends commenced what appeared to be a break dancing contest to which the other mother turned a blind eye while I screeched "Don't you dare break any of this wine!" It was around this time that Carolena began to check out the grocery items in the other family's cart. And just what was her friends' cart? Frozen cereal.
Frozen cereal for Pete's sake.
Not frozen cereal like something you might find stashed between a bag of corn and a boxed pizza. Frozen cereal as in Elsa, Anna, Olaf and the rest of the gang. Frozen cereal as in a kid's Gucci bag. Frozen cereal as in this was the same girl who had asked Santa for "apps" this year. Apps.
Since that day Carolena has asked exactly one time to get Frozen cereal. I think she knew asking even once was a long shot. That's the kind of thing grandparents buy. And at the age of three she has probably already noticed that we're more dented cans kind of people than made-in-house guacamole types. What she will hopefully grow to learn as time goes by is why I can't bring myself to buy expensive groceries. I'm sure she'll spend some time yearning for her version of a Dooney bag, but if I do my job right, eventually she too will shun the Starbucks brand coffee in favor of Costco's Kirkland in bulk.
It's not about the money per se.
Well, that's not true. It's almost entirely about money.
There is something about the fact that there are people in this world, many many people in fact, without enough to eat that makes me steer clear of the organic chicken. Yes, yes, I know that it's kinder to the chickens. And yes, I know that it's better for my family. But... I am grateful to even afford chicken at all. So I stop in front of those poor lifeless frozen (with a lower case f) chicken and give thanks that I can buy food. We keep beans stocked in the pantry not only because we love red beans and rice, but also because I don't want to be the rich man passing by Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31).
I mean no offense to Frozen cereal buying people. Even as I type I am certain I am peering right around the log sticking out of my eye. But for me, for now, I will rest easier knowing that there are people eating tonight because we spent our extra grocery money on cans for the food bank. I will serve dinner from some dented marked down boxes so that we can send some money to ERD. And in the morning when Carolena and Nils sit down at our kitchen table I can open the bag of store brand Happy O's and pour them each a bowl, thankful for the fact that we have so much food and love in our home.
You know what? That's not true either.
That's who I would like to be.
Instead, I am the mom who serves her kids red beans and rice and then beats myself up that we don't do enough. I lie awake in bed worrying over unknown people, unseen faces who are suffering. Chris sometimes accuses me of secretly wearing a hair shirt. But, I am who I am. And like Erma Bombeck, "When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, 'I used everything you gave me'."
I hope that someday Carolena and Nils will choose to spend their money on others rather than themselves. Though it is counter-intuitive, it remains true that breakfast from a crushed box of off brand oatmeal fills the stomach much more than a bowl of Frozen cereal.
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
The Wonderful Adventures of Nils
The Wonderful Adventures of Nils
By Nils
Why does Mommy always pick things up that should be on the floor? Sippy cups full of water, spoons covered in yogurt, large handfulls of oatmeal... these things belong on the kitchen floor. I put them there with great intention. Why does she keep giving them back to me?!
Mommies don't know anything about refined palates. What she sees as stray bits of cardboard from the cats' scratching boards, I see as delicacies.
A coy smile can get you places. Scramble over to the dvds and take a gander. Is the door unlocked? Open it. Pull out every dvd you can reach. Pull them out in a frenzy, and try to get every single one onto the floor before Mommy comes over. If Mommy notices you at any point during this foray, utilize that coy smile and glint in your eyes to charm her into letting you play. If you get to the dvds and the door happens to be locked, wail in misery and bang against it like it was your last chance at freedom.
By Nils
Why does Mommy always pick things up that should be on the floor? Sippy cups full of water, spoons covered in yogurt, large handfulls of oatmeal... these things belong on the kitchen floor. I put them there with great intention. Why does she keep giving them back to me?!
Mommies don't know anything about refined palates. What she sees as stray bits of cardboard from the cats' scratching boards, I see as delicacies.
A coy smile can get you places. Scramble over to the dvds and take a gander. Is the door unlocked? Open it. Pull out every dvd you can reach. Pull them out in a frenzy, and try to get every single one onto the floor before Mommy comes over. If Mommy notices you at any point during this foray, utilize that coy smile and glint in your eyes to charm her into letting you play. If you get to the dvds and the door happens to be locked, wail in misery and bang against it like it was your last chance at freedom.
Monday, January 5, 2015
Conversational Carolena
"Can I have a snack?"
Me: "Carolena, why is your whoppie frog (her blankie) sticking out of your pants?"
Carolena: "Because I'm storing things in there."
"Can I have a snack?"
"Carolena, please carry this to your room" I said as I held out a pair of clean pajamas. "I can't," she replied waving her empty hands at me, "I'm a baby polar bear. Polar bears don't have hands. They have paws."
"Can I have a snack?"
Me: "Carolena, why is your whoppie frog (her blankie) sticking out of your pants?"
Carolena: "Because I'm storing things in there."
"Can I have a snack?"
"Carolena, please carry this to your room" I said as I held out a pair of clean pajamas. "I can't," she replied waving her empty hands at me, "I'm a baby polar bear. Polar bears don't have hands. They have paws."
"Can I have a snack?"
Sunday, January 4, 2015
Time Enough at Last
Friday morning I arrived home from boot camp (yes, really) and announced to my family,
"Pack your bags and get in the car. We're going to Austin!"
After days and days of dreary cold weather and nothing notable to do, we were itching for an adventure. So, we made it happen. A couple of hours later (we he had to wait for the foundation dude to come out - I'd forgotten about that) we were off!
After a great day in our capital city a.k.a our old stomping grounds and the birthplace of Carolena we arrived back at our hotel room, bathed the nuggets, and got them both tucked in.
The night was young. I could hear the pleasant sounds of my children sleeping and the rain falling upon the window. I was enjoying the bliss that comes from lying in a bed with clean sheets that I did not have to wash nor put on the bed. My pajamas were cozy. My body was exhausted from the early workout. I was under a big fluffy comforter with a David Sedaris book and small reading light.
Content and giddy with the prospect of lying in bed for hours reading an enjoyable book, I flipped on the light and began to read. One paragraph later I watched in agony as the small led book light dimmed... dimmed... dimmed... and died.
"Pack your bags and get in the car. We're going to Austin!"
After days and days of dreary cold weather and nothing notable to do, we were itching for an adventure. So, we made it happen. A couple of hours later (we he had to wait for the foundation dude to come out - I'd forgotten about that) we were off!
After a great day in our capital city a.k.a our old stomping grounds and the birthplace of Carolena we arrived back at our hotel room, bathed the nuggets, and got them both tucked in.
The night was young. I could hear the pleasant sounds of my children sleeping and the rain falling upon the window. I was enjoying the bliss that comes from lying in a bed with clean sheets that I did not have to wash nor put on the bed. My pajamas were cozy. My body was exhausted from the early workout. I was under a big fluffy comforter with a David Sedaris book and small reading light.
Content and giddy with the prospect of lying in bed for hours reading an enjoyable book, I flipped on the light and began to read. One paragraph later I watched in agony as the small led book light dimmed... dimmed... dimmed... and died.
Saturday, January 3, 2015
Yeeha!
I've never actually been a part of the calf scramble at the rodeo...
but I'm pretty sure I could win a calf.
I have lots of practice diapering and clothing this little guy every single day.
I've seen those kids at the rodeo chase down the calves, tie a rope around them, and drag them to the center of Reliant. Yep, it's pretty much the same.
Thursday, January 1, 2015
Is it Too Late to Drive to Austin?
Chris and I have always agreed on one very important thing: that attitude matters very much. Even when we were dating we knew that this was a key component to our relationship. We both prefer to live somewhere in the zone between realistic and overenthusiastic optimism. We're "bloom where you are planted" kind of people, except not that cliched. So perhaps we are "I like life. Life likes me" kind of people.
All this is to say, when life hands us limes we make margaritas.
I don't know how high-stress major type A kind of people cope with parenthood. The ups and downs of the unknown and unplanned - how do they cope without cracking?
Every year Chris takes off the week between Christmas and New Year's Day. And, I believe, every single year our plans are thwarted. This year we talked about going to Austin and then decided to go camping. Cold weather turned camping plans into hiking plans. Our hiking day was shortened by both the cold weather and the misery of what turned out to be a sick child. A child's singular runnynosed misery led to children's plural misery and the late night purchase of a second "heffalump" humidifier.
Not very clear skies were trumped by relatively clear noses and cabin fever so we ventured out to George Ranch for some general merriment back in time. When we got there we didn't even get kids unbuckled. The frigidly cold air (to these Texans anyway) and the realization that we'd left Carolena's coat at home prompted a quick parental regrouping. Playing on the mall playground started to look like a pretty good outing.
Chris' vacation continued with a wife who fell asleep on the living room floor at 8pm on New Year's Eve and has continued with his lying in bed feeling sick on New Year's Day. He gets the added bonus of trying to sleep while listening to the soothing sounds of Carolena crying over a ripped coloring book page. She's under the kitchen table in a move that quite resembles Randy's "Daddy's gonna kill Ralphie" weeping.
Yep, it's a good thing we have relatively laid back attitudes around here. Although... perhaps next year Chris should save these vacation days for the spring?
All this is to say, when life hands us limes we make margaritas.
I don't know how high-stress major type A kind of people cope with parenthood. The ups and downs of the unknown and unplanned - how do they cope without cracking?
Every year Chris takes off the week between Christmas and New Year's Day. And, I believe, every single year our plans are thwarted. This year we talked about going to Austin and then decided to go camping. Cold weather turned camping plans into hiking plans. Our hiking day was shortened by both the cold weather and the misery of what turned out to be a sick child. A child's singular runnynosed misery led to children's plural misery and the late night purchase of a second "heffalump" humidifier.
Not very clear skies were trumped by relatively clear noses and cabin fever so we ventured out to George Ranch for some general merriment back in time. When we got there we didn't even get kids unbuckled. The frigidly cold air (to these Texans anyway) and the realization that we'd left Carolena's coat at home prompted a quick parental regrouping. Playing on the mall playground started to look like a pretty good outing.
Chris' vacation continued with a wife who fell asleep on the living room floor at 8pm on New Year's Eve and has continued with his lying in bed feeling sick on New Year's Day. He gets the added bonus of trying to sleep while listening to the soothing sounds of Carolena crying over a ripped coloring book page. She's under the kitchen table in a move that quite resembles Randy's "Daddy's gonna kill Ralphie" weeping.
Yep, it's a good thing we have relatively laid back attitudes around here. Although... perhaps next year Chris should save these vacation days for the spring?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)