Sunday, October 4, 2015

Misadventures of ...... What was I saying?

Cognitive decline is no laughing matter. Or it shouldn't be a laughing matter and in your heart of hearts you feel a little guilty for laughing at it. However, since the Little Old Lady in today's story is ME, feel free to laugh with a clear conscience.

Saturday found me at Costco, picking up some groceries (and free samples). As I walked to the far reaches of the parking lot where I had parked to get maximum steps, I sadly reflected that, with my Fitbit stuck on my wrist, most of my accumulated steps were not being counted due to the shopping cart that I was pushing.  Then genius struck. After I put my cart back in the cart keeper, I would get my steps in by walking over to the gas station to fill up the gas tank. Thankfully, I realized the problem with  my plan before I got too far in my journey.  I suppose I could have gotten my steps in walking back from the gas station to retrieve the forgotten car.

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Misadventures of &##%@&!*$

As I sat at Austin's sixth grade graduation this evening, I was forcibly reminded of his first day of preschool. I had many misgivings about sending my young son to preschool. We had never been separated on a regular basis before and our worlds revolved around each other. What if he wasn't ready for the cold, cruel world? What if the world wasn't ready for him? Eventually, however, I realized that I had to loosen my choke hold and let him go.

Reluctantly, I left my boy at school and took his sisters home where we waited with bated breath for his return and the account of his first day in the wild (preschool was taught inside one of the local elementary schools in which he might encounter "Big Kids"). I remember sitting in the rocking chair, rocking the baby, as I listened to his tale (which mostly consisted of "fine"s and "I don't know"s). While we were talking, he fell off of his bed and landed on his backside on the floor. "Ouch!" he exclaimed, "I fell on my thing that starts with an "A" ". Shock and horror filled my mind! He had only been in school for one day and already he was referring to his backside as his "thing that starts with an A". Never before had he used (or even heard) such language. I had sent my son out into a corrupt world and would now be reaping the consequences of that decision. With great trepidation, I asked him to explain what he meant by "his thing that starts with an A". He responded, "You know, Mom, my alligator" and he lifted the large, plastic alligator that he had landed on when he fell. Apparently, they only covered animals that start with an A on the first day of school.

Thursday, April 16, 2015

Misadventures of Life Hacks

Life hacks seem to be a big thing right now. Since I spend most of my time foundering, I wouldn't presume to give an adult any life hacks. I do, however, have a few life hacks to offer to my children:                          
1. If you hide the evidence by cleaning up after yourself, you'll get away with a lot more.
2.  If you do something the first time you are asked, the need to keep asking you disappears.
3. If you want to use Mom's possessions, don't throw a huge tantrum when she asks you to do something.
4. Mom can go from zero to crazy person in under 3 seconds, don't cook a quesadilla or a hot pocket a half hour before dinner time.
5. If you refuse to work on your homework when help is cheerfully offered, don't be surprised to find yourself doing homework by yourself.
6. When Mom offers to wash your clothes if you will bring them out, do it. Otherwise, your Saturday is likely to be filled with laundry duties.
7. Don't expect Mom to back up one of your, "Mom says....", while Mom is still waiting for you to do what she asked you to do.
8. When Mom or Dad ask if you have brushed your teeth, they mean recently.
9. When Mom is singing, "Count Your Blessings",it means that you need to run, fast.
10. Mom turns from Jekyll to Hyde at 8:30. It is in your best interests to conclude your business with her before that hour or be prepared for the consequences.

Monday, March 9, 2015

Misadventures of Super Powers

 I have tried over the years, with little success, to teach the goats to pick up after themselves.

Upon arriving home from some errands this morning, I discovered a recently opened peanut butter jar with several large scoops taken out surrounded on the counter by sprinkles of powdered sugar. When I asked my child, who had stayed home with a sore throat, to produce his peanut butter goo, he pulled it out from under his bed with a mystified expression. A little later, my search for the can opener ended when I found it on the counter with sweetened condensed milk dripping from it. When the sick child was asked for the sweetened condensed milk, he asked, "Are you psychic or something?"

I now find myself facing a dilemma, the consequences of which would be far reaching. It occurs to me that, if I point out to the children that they could get away with more stuff if they would only clean up the evidence, my house would be much neater. Though, would the clean house really be worth giving up my advantage? Am I really ready to give up my super powers?