My folly this time was having a birthday. However, I don't think that there is any way out of that one without saying that I wish I had never been born. That seems a trifle over dramatic, so perhaps I should say that my folly was expecting my family to be other than it is.
There is nothing quite like a birthday to show you exactly how much you mean to your family. Yesterday afternoon, I told my sweet children that the very best birthday gift would be for them to do their chores without me having to hound them into it. Austin , in a voice reminiscent of Nicole asking why she had to wash the juicer, said, "But, M-o-o-o-m, you already got your gift." I really had to rack my brain over that one, as I couldn't remember getting any gifts other than the weekend trip that Rick had taken me on. With great exasperation, Austin reminded his obviously ungrateful Mother about the chocolate covered strawberries that he brought home from church. Now, chocolate covered strawberries (with a delightful creamy center) would not usually be a gesture that I would ignore. Perhaps some of the tremendous love that he was showing slipped my mind due to the fact that he dislikes strawberries. His primary teachers had given him the strawberries for an Easter treat and, disliking it, he came home and gave it to me. Judging by the fact that it took many arguments and much hounding to get the chores done, my worth is exactly that of disliked strawberries.
P.S. To anyone reading this post, I actually love chocolate covered strawberries. I guess that I shouldn't judge the motive behind the gesture.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Misadventures of The Worst . . .?
My folly this time lies in the fact that I decided to have children. I'm hoping that a similar scene has played out in other homes proving that I don't actually have the worst children (and am therefore the worst parent) in the world.
This afternoon, I was just finishing washing up my juicer when Nicole came and asked if she could use the juicer when I was finished with it. I groaned inwardly, but said that she could use the juicer. I helped her put the juicer back together and then showed her how to feed the apples in and push them down. When the juicer was finished, I showed her how to take it apart and scrape the extra pulp into the trash. Then I took her to the sink and started handing her pieces to rinse off. After the second piece, she tossed her saucy little head and said (in a voice that I'm sure most parents could identify), "Why do I have to wash the whole thing?" I'm afraid that I couldn't answer that question, as all of my retorts involved language that I didn't really want to teach my "sweet" little girl. After a few moments pause, I was able to explain that she had to wash it because I had just finished cleaning it when she asked to use it and got it dirty again. Her response, "Can't we just stick it in the dishwasher?" I think that it must be time to start washing all dishes by hand.
This afternoon, I was just finishing washing up my juicer when Nicole came and asked if she could use the juicer when I was finished with it. I groaned inwardly, but said that she could use the juicer. I helped her put the juicer back together and then showed her how to feed the apples in and push them down. When the juicer was finished, I showed her how to take it apart and scrape the extra pulp into the trash. Then I took her to the sink and started handing her pieces to rinse off. After the second piece, she tossed her saucy little head and said (in a voice that I'm sure most parents could identify), "Why do I have to wash the whole thing?" I'm afraid that I couldn't answer that question, as all of my retorts involved language that I didn't really want to teach my "sweet" little girl. After a few moments pause, I was able to explain that she had to wash it because I had just finished cleaning it when she asked to use it and got it dirty again. Her response, "Can't we just stick it in the dishwasher?" I think that it must be time to start washing all dishes by hand.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Misadventures of False Modesty
I sincerely hope that this post is not offensive to anyone. It has been my experience that false modesty usually is a little offensive.
My folly this time lies in being either too specific or not specific enough when speaking to my children (girls especially) about what is considered modest.
I have had many talks with my girls over the years discussing modesty. Not usually big sit down talks, but when we're out and about and we see advertisements with clothing on them we discuss why we keep our bodies covered. We love and respect our bodies so we cloth them modestly. We show this respect by covering our shoulders (though, to tell the truth, I don't have as big a problem with this as Daddy does) and our bellies and not wearing short shorts.
Please try to imagine my utter horror when little Erika came to me a few days ago and said that she had found a magazine that showed ladies' private parts. With great trepidation, I asked her to take me to the magazine. My astonishment grew and grew as I followed her to my nightstand. I can't even begin to describe my relief when she picked up one of my fitness magazines on which the model was wearing a tank top that was lifted a little to show her nice, flat tummy. "See, Mom, you can see her shoulders and her belly."
I guess that it is time to have a big, sit down talk as it seems some explanations need to be made.
My folly this time lies in being either too specific or not specific enough when speaking to my children (girls especially) about what is considered modest.
I have had many talks with my girls over the years discussing modesty. Not usually big sit down talks, but when we're out and about and we see advertisements with clothing on them we discuss why we keep our bodies covered. We love and respect our bodies so we cloth them modestly. We show this respect by covering our shoulders (though, to tell the truth, I don't have as big a problem with this as Daddy does) and our bellies and not wearing short shorts.
Please try to imagine my utter horror when little Erika came to me a few days ago and said that she had found a magazine that showed ladies' private parts. With great trepidation, I asked her to take me to the magazine. My astonishment grew and grew as I followed her to my nightstand. I can't even begin to describe my relief when she picked up one of my fitness magazines on which the model was wearing a tank top that was lifted a little to show her nice, flat tummy. "See, Mom, you can see her shoulders and her belly."
I guess that it is time to have a big, sit down talk as it seems some explanations need to be made.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Misadventures of Perspective
At times I feel like I've fallen into one of those movies in which you see one event from several different perspectives as you try to piece together the true course of events. Such it was this morning.
It had been a fairly unusual morning in which no one had asked me to find his backpack or her glasses or any one's shoes. About ten minutes before we needed to head out to the bus,I went looking for my strangely quiet children. I found all four of them involved in what looked like a silent rugby scrum. When I cleared my throat, they all jumped back with a chorus of "He/She started it!" So we retired to the Repentance Bench. (Note to Self: If all four children are going to the Repentance Bench together, we need a bigger bench) Sitting on the couch, facing the defendants, I started from my right and went down the bench.
Mom: "Austin, what did you do?"
Austin: "I was beating on Nicole because she-"
Mom: "I didn't ask what Nicole did, I asked what you did."
Austin: "Oh, I was beating up Nicole."
Mom: "Alex, what did you do?"
Alex (with his big cheeky grin): "I stole Cole's caterpillar."
Austin: "It was her favorite graham cracker."
Mom: "Austin, it's not your turn. Erika, what did you do?"
Erika: "I tried to pull Austin off of Nicole."
Mom: "Nicole, what did you do?"
Nicole (with a long suffering sigh and roll of the eyes): "Nothing."
Austin: "She did do something, she-"
Mom: "Austin, thanks, but it is Nicole's turn. Nicole, what did you do?"
Nicole (with another sigh): "I cried."
Austin (who still hasn't quite got the hang of the Repentance bench): "You didn't just cry, you-"
Mom: "AUSTIN! Nicole, you cried and that made Austin beat you up?"
Nicole: "Well, no. I cried and then told Alex he could never have another graham cracker until he was a grown up."
Austin: "And that's why I was beating her up. She can't talk to my brother like that."
Mom: "So, Alex stole Nicole's caterpillar graham cracker. Nicole cried and told Alex that he could never have another graham cracker. That made Austin angry so he started beating on Nicole. And Erika was trying to get Austin to stop. Right?"
Children: "Yep"
Erika (who catches onto things much faster than anyone else) hops down and says, "Sorry, Austin."
Alex (who has more experience with the Repentance Bench than anyone else) hops down and says, "I torry, Cole."
Nicole (with a very grudging tone of voice) says, "Sorry, Alex." and permits him to hug her.
Austin says, "Sorry, Nicole!"
Now everyone's happy and we all somehow managed to make it to the bus on time.
It had been a fairly unusual morning in which no one had asked me to find his backpack or her glasses or any one's shoes. About ten minutes before we needed to head out to the bus,I went looking for my strangely quiet children. I found all four of them involved in what looked like a silent rugby scrum. When I cleared my throat, they all jumped back with a chorus of "He/She started it!" So we retired to the Repentance Bench. (Note to Self: If all four children are going to the Repentance Bench together, we need a bigger bench) Sitting on the couch, facing the defendants, I started from my right and went down the bench.
Mom: "Austin, what did you do?"
Austin: "I was beating on Nicole because she-"
Mom: "I didn't ask what Nicole did, I asked what you did."
Austin: "Oh, I was beating up Nicole."
Mom: "Alex, what did you do?"
Alex (with his big cheeky grin): "I stole Cole's caterpillar."
Austin: "It was her favorite graham cracker."
Mom: "Austin, it's not your turn. Erika, what did you do?"
Erika: "I tried to pull Austin off of Nicole."
Mom: "Nicole, what did you do?"
Nicole (with a long suffering sigh and roll of the eyes): "Nothing."
Austin: "She did do something, she-"
Mom: "Austin, thanks, but it is Nicole's turn. Nicole, what did you do?"
Nicole (with another sigh): "I cried."
Austin (who still hasn't quite got the hang of the Repentance bench): "You didn't just cry, you-"
Mom: "AUSTIN! Nicole, you cried and that made Austin beat you up?"
Nicole: "Well, no. I cried and then told Alex he could never have another graham cracker until he was a grown up."
Austin: "And that's why I was beating her up. She can't talk to my brother like that."
Mom: "So, Alex stole Nicole's caterpillar graham cracker. Nicole cried and told Alex that he could never have another graham cracker. That made Austin angry so he started beating on Nicole. And Erika was trying to get Austin to stop. Right?"
Children: "Yep"
Erika (who catches onto things much faster than anyone else) hops down and says, "Sorry, Austin."
Alex (who has more experience with the Repentance Bench than anyone else) hops down and says, "I torry, Cole."
Nicole (with a very grudging tone of voice) says, "Sorry, Alex." and permits him to hug her.
Austin says, "Sorry, Nicole!"
Now everyone's happy and we all somehow managed to make it to the bus on time.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Misadventures of Hearing Voices
I suppose my folly this time is an overactive imagination. With four children, I have at least two people speaking to me at any given time. I frequently find myself trying to sort through two (or three or four) long (and yes, usually pointless) stories punctuated by frequent shouts of, "Hey, I was talking first".
During such an occasion yesterday, I found myself thinking of how wonderful it would be to have an answering service. I think it would go something like this:
"You have reached Mom's Answering Service.
To express LOVE, please press 1
To express APPRECIATION, please press 2
To offer SERVICE, please press 3
To leave a COMPLIMENT, please press 4
If you need a hurt KISSED better, please press 5
If you want a story read to you, please press 6
If you want to be TUCKED In, please press 7
If you are bringing an eye patch to be put on, please press 8
If you want to show Mom a picture you made, please press 9
If you want to TATTLE on someone, please hang up and call Grandma
If you want something done, please hang up and call Daddy
If you want to whine, please hang up and call Dr Phil
If there is a mess to clean up, please hang up and clean it yourself.
If you want your diaper changed or your bottom wiped, you have definitely reached this recording in error.
If you want to tell an insanely long story, please hold .................and hold............and hold.............and hold............and hold........and hold.......and hold.........and hold.............
During such an occasion yesterday, I found myself thinking of how wonderful it would be to have an answering service. I think it would go something like this:
"You have reached Mom's Answering Service.
To express LOVE, please press 1
To express APPRECIATION, please press 2
To offer SERVICE, please press 3
To leave a COMPLIMENT, please press 4
If you need a hurt KISSED better, please press 5
If you want a story read to you, please press 6
If you want to be TUCKED In, please press 7
If you are bringing an eye patch to be put on, please press 8
If you want to show Mom a picture you made, please press 9
If you want to TATTLE on someone, please hang up and call Grandma
If you want something done, please hang up and call Daddy
If you want to whine, please hang up and call Dr Phil
If there is a mess to clean up, please hang up and clean it yourself.
If you want your diaper changed or your bottom wiped, you have definitely reached this recording in error.
If you want to tell an insanely long story, please hold .................and hold............and hold.............and hold............and hold........and hold.......and hold.........and hold.............
Monday, May 23, 2011
Misadventures of a Broken Trust
Nicole has recently discovered a new love, the crane machine at Wal-Mart. My folly that brought it about was parking on the wrong side of the parking lot. Because I was parked on the wrong side of the store, we had to pass the mysterious alcove containing all of the flashy quarter machines. The first time the girls asked to enter this wondrous place, I reluctantly agreed, on the condition that they realize that all of the machines cost money and I would NOT provide them with any change for the games. This satisfied them until that glorious day when the tooth fairy brought Nicole two shiny quarters. What higher earthly bliss could there be than in depositing your quarters into the machine for the chance to win a stuffed animal? The next trip to the store found us in front of a crane machine filled with stuffed animals of all shapes and sizes. Nicole eagerly deposited her precious quarters, carefully moved the crane above her animal of choice, watched in awe as the crane lowered around the animals head and began to lift..... The animal raised ever so slightly before the crane slipped off and it fell back among it's fellow play things. Her disappointment was great, but thankfully, not overwhelming. I explained that the cranes were not made very strong because they were made to get your money, not to lose their toys.
When another tooth fell out, Nicole began to entertain hopes again. She came to me one day and confessed that she didn't really believe that the people who made the cranes were just after money. She felt that the cranes were made poorly because the people who made them had other things on their mind and must have just been in a hurry to get the job done. She then asked if I could take her back to Wal-Mart to try her luck again. I agreed that we could go while Erika was in dance. I wondered how many times she would throw her quarters away before realizing that those games are a scam. When we got to the store, Nicole carefully examined each and every machine, in fact, she spent more than ten minutes analyzing the machines to make sure she would pick the best. She carefully placed her quarters in the machine and began to move the crane. We held our breath as the crane came down around the head of a purple panda and began to lift.....up and over and down the chute. Nicole had won her panda bear! Great was her delight. And Great was her exultation that she had been right all along and the crane builders were really honest people who just wanted to help little girls get new toys.
She has lost several quarters since that wonderful day, but her faith in the machine remains unshaken. I find myself worrying a little over whether her faith in my warnings will ever return (not that Nicole has ever had much faith in my warnings).
When another tooth fell out, Nicole began to entertain hopes again. She came to me one day and confessed that she didn't really believe that the people who made the cranes were just after money. She felt that the cranes were made poorly because the people who made them had other things on their mind and must have just been in a hurry to get the job done. She then asked if I could take her back to Wal-Mart to try her luck again. I agreed that we could go while Erika was in dance. I wondered how many times she would throw her quarters away before realizing that those games are a scam. When we got to the store, Nicole carefully examined each and every machine, in fact, she spent more than ten minutes analyzing the machines to make sure she would pick the best. She carefully placed her quarters in the machine and began to move the crane. We held our breath as the crane came down around the head of a purple panda and began to lift.....up and over and down the chute. Nicole had won her panda bear! Great was her delight. And Great was her exultation that she had been right all along and the crane builders were really honest people who just wanted to help little girls get new toys.
She has lost several quarters since that wonderful day, but her faith in the machine remains unshaken. I find myself worrying a little over whether her faith in my warnings will ever return (not that Nicole has ever had much faith in my warnings).
Misadventures of Sunday Morning
My folly this time lies in the fact that I'm unable to hold onto a thought long enough to bring it to fruition.
A few Sundays ago, as I got ready for church, I realized that my nylons had holes in them. I put on a skirt long enough to cover the runs and made a mental note to go get some during the week. After church, I left the holey nylons sitting on top of the dresser to remain as a constant reminder that I needed to replace them. A few days later, as I was walking out of my bedroom to go to the store, I tossed them into the trash knowing I was on my way to replace them. Unfortunately, the free cookies in the bakery and the other wonders of Target filled my imagination with such delights that mundane things like nylons were quickly driven out.
When Sunday rolled around again, as I got ready for church, the nylons were brought back forcibly to my mind. Oh, no! I had forgotten to buy my nylons. Wait, I could just get the others out of the bedroom trash, it's not like they would be covered by kitchen waste. Alas, Rick had emptied the bedroom trash can only the day before. What could I do? I could go out to the garbage can, couldn't I? If he'd only dumped it the day before then it wouldn't be covered by too much stuff. Thankfully, the mental picture of one of my neighbors on their way to church noticing my feet sticking out of my garbage can was enough to keep me from Sabbath Dumpster Diving. Thank Goodness for long skirts and sandals.
A few Sundays ago, as I got ready for church, I realized that my nylons had holes in them. I put on a skirt long enough to cover the runs and made a mental note to go get some during the week. After church, I left the holey nylons sitting on top of the dresser to remain as a constant reminder that I needed to replace them. A few days later, as I was walking out of my bedroom to go to the store, I tossed them into the trash knowing I was on my way to replace them. Unfortunately, the free cookies in the bakery and the other wonders of Target filled my imagination with such delights that mundane things like nylons were quickly driven out.
When Sunday rolled around again, as I got ready for church, the nylons were brought back forcibly to my mind. Oh, no! I had forgotten to buy my nylons. Wait, I could just get the others out of the bedroom trash, it's not like they would be covered by kitchen waste. Alas, Rick had emptied the bedroom trash can only the day before. What could I do? I could go out to the garbage can, couldn't I? If he'd only dumped it the day before then it wouldn't be covered by too much stuff. Thankfully, the mental picture of one of my neighbors on their way to church noticing my feet sticking out of my garbage can was enough to keep me from Sabbath Dumpster Diving. Thank Goodness for long skirts and sandals.
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