It's the last day of school and I thought, the little munchkins could have some frozen yogurt for celebration. Now, there is a place. But it is weird. Fro yo is all about fun. The owner is all about murder. A place I have been to once or twice at most with E. It is close to home, and the Y so I thought, let's do it for the end of year bash.
Kay, so obviously it is sweltering and we we walk as human puddles to the door. Yay! Yogurt. It is FROZEN. The opposite of hot. How delightful! I have all three children and they are remarkably well behaved. We get our yogurt with really almost no pomp and circumstance which has not happened since the year before Christ.
The man behind the counter. I remember this man. I remember him because he is odd and emitting very negative types of vibes. I had asked him a question on my last visit with only E. The nutritional facts weren't posted so I asked about calories per ounce and he used this very derisive tone to say "All frozen yogurt is pretty much the same." Duh. Thank you. I remembered that.
So of course now we have my little Tedlet. He might as well wear a hose-belt of frozen yogurt around his waist and shoot it out in sequential machine gun squirts all over the shop. He does go a little over the top with gummy sharks and I can see the man is upset that he has gotten the spoon dirty.
We end up all eating happily at the table, Tra la la. Oh, look a butterfly lands. Mama finishes and gets up to look around as H and T are still working on their mountains of fro-yo. Nobody wants any trouble.
Mama is impulsive. That's an important fact. I try to walk a fine line with impulsivity. I want to taste espresso, so I pull the handle of the fro yo for a second (there are no tasting cups or spoons) and it comes out on my finger and of course continues for a bit and gets on the counter.The guy is behind the counter and he can't really see what is happening. So I called myself out because the guy couldn't see there was a spill, and said sorry "I''m so sorry. I wanted to taste the espresso."
He goes crazy What happened?. He has a very soft voice, so it is strange combination of soothing but evil. Here is the litany of harsh vibes:
Here. Use these.
These are called napkins.
You were supposed to ask.
You should have asked.
Where were you raised???
Great. You are raising three kids this way.
I seriously feel a welling of anger up inside of me.
Here is where it all could have gone Harley Davidson meets cowboy boots with a smash of hell raising
No, I wait. I become an observer of the situation.. I just stand there and of course he says, "You can look all you want that is not going to help you." Birdies and stars circling his head.
People have started watching us.
I let a moment or two go by, and I did say "There is a lot of anger here." He said, "There sure is."
So I let another couple of moments go by. The kids are happy and quiet. I said, "I apologize for the mess." I actually clean the table FOR him. Let's go, Squirts. Hustle hustle. The kids are unfazed and scoot out the door.
So now here's the thing. The man hates me. Fro yo is delicious. It is summer. Shall we not go there again? Do I pretend he is an actor of craziness and set Ferris Wheels outside of his shop? What do I do NEXT TIME?
Thursday, June 11, 2015
Haters
Man, have I had some haters in my life. Sheesh.
Oh by the by, my kids think gum is a treat. Let's keep that going.
So anyway, haters. You know who you are. Ha you are probably reading old Bloggy right now, hating. Love ya. *Wink* I don't have much time for haters. I was thinking about this last night. H and T came home and they were all, "I hate this and I hate that...." and I was like " I would like to turn all of these negative vibes into positive vibes but I am not sure exactly how to do that. Yes, you can absolutely think I am the meanest mommy in the world for not letting you play Super Smash Bros.
And yes, you can be very devastated that we have to empty the dishwasher AGAIN and what is all this CLEANING AND WHY GOD ME????? Yes. I absorb all off your negative impatience. I tell you that this is the cyclical nature of life and the best thing to do is to try to be positive. The kids look at me like I have turkey beaks instead of fingers. So is it just human nature to be negative? Or is it that the kids are holding so much inside during the day trying to be well-behaved and nice that when they come home, the negativity flies forth like when you finally slam the bottom of the bottle of ketchup the right way?
No matter. The negativity is there and it abounds. So I goof off or do something silly to make everyone laugh. Suggest swimming or something physical. Because I am trying to teach my kids to be positive people. So if you are a hater, I love you. I do not care what happened yesterday or three years ago or you hurt my feelings and then she said THIS. Today is awesome, and I am pretty sure both you and I are awesome as well.
Hugs, world.
Oh by the by, my kids think gum is a treat. Let's keep that going.
So anyway, haters. You know who you are. Ha you are probably reading old Bloggy right now, hating. Love ya. *Wink* I don't have much time for haters. I was thinking about this last night. H and T came home and they were all, "I hate this and I hate that...." and I was like " I would like to turn all of these negative vibes into positive vibes but I am not sure exactly how to do that. Yes, you can absolutely think I am the meanest mommy in the world for not letting you play Super Smash Bros.
And yes, you can be very devastated that we have to empty the dishwasher AGAIN and what is all this CLEANING AND WHY GOD ME????? Yes. I absorb all off your negative impatience. I tell you that this is the cyclical nature of life and the best thing to do is to try to be positive. The kids look at me like I have turkey beaks instead of fingers. So is it just human nature to be negative? Or is it that the kids are holding so much inside during the day trying to be well-behaved and nice that when they come home, the negativity flies forth like when you finally slam the bottom of the bottle of ketchup the right way?
No matter. The negativity is there and it abounds. So I goof off or do something silly to make everyone laugh. Suggest swimming or something physical. Because I am trying to teach my kids to be positive people. So if you are a hater, I love you. I do not care what happened yesterday or three years ago or you hurt my feelings and then she said THIS. Today is awesome, and I am pretty sure both you and I are awesome as well.
Hugs, world.
Contents of My Purse
My wallet
A coin purse
One left sock
Hairbrush
Three tubes of Aquaphor (one generic)
Cover Girl three shades eyeshadow
Car keys (yay!)
Shuffle ipod charger
Two purse sized perfume bottles (Beautiful and Gucci)
Pen and Pencil
Sand
Two fabric hairbands
Bent straw
Post it note with grocery list from last week
An invitation to get a special jeans fitting at Buckle
Seven pennies
Three large bobby pins
One small bobby pin
Two old raffle tickets
Six bandaids
Half a bottle of diet coke
So, pretty much, in an emergency, I'm your gal.
A coin purse
One left sock
Hairbrush
Three tubes of Aquaphor (one generic)
Cover Girl three shades eyeshadow
Car keys (yay!)
Shuffle ipod charger
Two purse sized perfume bottles (Beautiful and Gucci)
Pen and Pencil
Sand
Two fabric hairbands
Bent straw
Post it note with grocery list from last week
An invitation to get a special jeans fitting at Buckle
Seven pennies
Three large bobby pins
One small bobby pin
Two old raffle tickets
Six bandaids
Half a bottle of diet coke
So, pretty much, in an emergency, I'm your gal.
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
Gym Lady
Maybe it's Bruce Jenner, I dunno. I have to talk about this woman but I feel so bad. Can we just let it be known that I have been bursting out of my underooos with comments about this woman and I have kept them all quiet. It is hard for me, Bloggy. Mama likes to speak up. Let us just call her Woman X. No wait, that's kinda too cool. Hmmm Gym Lady.
First, the ponytails. Oh dear lord could I give you the ponytails. So one goes up top at the crown of the head and the other goes UNDERNEATH IT. Idontknowwhattosay. So imagine two ponytails one on top of another at the back of your head. Two puffballs. That's what I'm staring at. So obviously the second one reminds me of a tail.
[um okay I just tried to google a pic of this woman's ponytails and the only images that came up were of large black women]
And I guess she looks like someone who was not nice to me. So then there's that. Or reminds me of someone I had a distaste for. Or something. Not sure. But I had my eye on this lady from day one because she was taking the whole thing so seriously. And here is the probs with me. I am not so serious. So like when we have dance class, and every one is jitterbugging to the right? You will often find me shimmying to my left. Its not rebellious. Sometimes I just can't hear the directions and other times I am trying to slow down or ramp up the work out. But definitely I look like I just did lines of coke in the bathroom cause I am five foot ten, and all shimmy shimmy cocoa pop smile and teeth. Twirl.
So Gym Lady, she knows her stuff, front and center of course, rip- roaring ready to go. But the problem was not she is annoying me .....the problem really became when the teacher could not remember the moves to the song and Gym Lady picked it up where she left off.
Dollars to donuts that woman has some serious space in her house and if we were to just have a-peek-a-little over the fence we would see glam lights and runways flashing.
I have no idea what her name is, but I can guarantee you that we will now be best friends for life, and all the blogs in all the world will have to SHUT IT. Sorry, Blog.
First, the ponytails. Oh dear lord could I give you the ponytails. So one goes up top at the crown of the head and the other goes UNDERNEATH IT. Idontknowwhattosay. So imagine two ponytails one on top of another at the back of your head. Two puffballs. That's what I'm staring at. So obviously the second one reminds me of a tail.
[um okay I just tried to google a pic of this woman's ponytails and the only images that came up were of large black women]
And I guess she looks like someone who was not nice to me. So then there's that. Or reminds me of someone I had a distaste for. Or something. Not sure. But I had my eye on this lady from day one because she was taking the whole thing so seriously. And here is the probs with me. I am not so serious. So like when we have dance class, and every one is jitterbugging to the right? You will often find me shimmying to my left. Its not rebellious. Sometimes I just can't hear the directions and other times I am trying to slow down or ramp up the work out. But definitely I look like I just did lines of coke in the bathroom cause I am five foot ten, and all shimmy shimmy cocoa pop smile and teeth. Twirl.
So Gym Lady, she knows her stuff, front and center of course, rip- roaring ready to go. But the problem was not she is annoying me .....the problem really became when the teacher could not remember the moves to the song and Gym Lady picked it up where she left off.
Dollars to donuts that woman has some serious space in her house and if we were to just have a-peek-a-little over the fence we would see glam lights and runways flashing.
I have no idea what her name is, but I can guarantee you that we will now be best friends for life, and all the blogs in all the world will have to SHUT IT. Sorry, Blog.
Sis
Today is somebody SPECIAL'S BIRTHDAY. No, no Bloggy. Not you. I'm sorry that was confusing. Hush hush Blog.
Yo check it out, Mama's got a SISTAH. And she be turning twenty-four today. (That's right. TWENTY-four.)
Let's see, let's see. What can one say about a sis? Well, first of all, don't ever call them a sis. Eiw. I was watching some true crime show that had the vic's sister talking and she said, "We always ended conversations like this: kiss kiss, I love my sis." I immediately LEAPT for my phone to tell my sister:
We must immediately start doing this.
Well but one of those sistahs ain't never comin home no mo, if you know what I mean. Hmmmm spot on.
Anyway, my sister is pretty rad. When we were little, my friend Caitlen and I would take her to the grocery store and put her in a cart. Then we would push the cart down the aisle super fast and run away. We thought this was hysterical. Poor sis would go careening down the aisles of the A & P crashing into various and sundry melons on display. But the thing is, she would always GET BACK IN THE CART. So we had to do it again. I mean, hell. I was teaching her about TRUST, Blog... that is what big sisters do. They torture the youngins in the name of TRUST. As in, trust no one, lest you go flying past a pack of double stuffed Oreos in aisle 7.
But then of course there were various swim times where big sis saves the day and rescues little sis from crazy Orlando wave pool or scary Long Island riptide. And so in those times you CAN trust me. See what I did there, Bloggy? I turned a negative into a positive. Hurrah.
Little sis was also very good for when boys called the house (back in the day when there were WHAT NO CELL PHONES???? Is that even possible?) and wanted to speak with me or date me. I just couldn't be mean to them because I knew how hard it must have been for them to pick up the phone and call, and me no likey. Enter little sis. Little sis sounds exactly like me. She's my voice twin.
Oh also, when I think of little sis as a child (not her adult twenty-four year old self), I always picture her with the bowl haircut, and she is always wearing this dark denim skirt she used to have. With sneakers.
Yo check it out, Mama's got a SISTAH. And she be turning twenty-four today. (That's right. TWENTY-four.)
Let's see, let's see. What can one say about a sis? Well, first of all, don't ever call them a sis. Eiw. I was watching some true crime show that had the vic's sister talking and she said, "We always ended conversations like this: kiss kiss, I love my sis." I immediately LEAPT for my phone to tell my sister:
We must immediately start doing this.
Well but one of those sistahs ain't never comin home no mo, if you know what I mean. Hmmmm spot on.
Anyway, my sister is pretty rad. When we were little, my friend Caitlen and I would take her to the grocery store and put her in a cart. Then we would push the cart down the aisle super fast and run away. We thought this was hysterical. Poor sis would go careening down the aisles of the A & P crashing into various and sundry melons on display. But the thing is, she would always GET BACK IN THE CART. So we had to do it again. I mean, hell. I was teaching her about TRUST, Blog... that is what big sisters do. They torture the youngins in the name of TRUST. As in, trust no one, lest you go flying past a pack of double stuffed Oreos in aisle 7.
But then of course there were various swim times where big sis saves the day and rescues little sis from crazy Orlando wave pool or scary Long Island riptide. And so in those times you CAN trust me. See what I did there, Bloggy? I turned a negative into a positive. Hurrah.
Little sis was also very good for when boys called the house (back in the day when there were WHAT NO CELL PHONES???? Is that even possible?) and wanted to speak with me or date me. I just couldn't be mean to them because I knew how hard it must have been for them to pick up the phone and call, and me no likey. Enter little sis. Little sis sounds exactly like me. She's my voice twin.
Oh also, when I think of little sis as a child (not her adult twenty-four year old self), I always picture her with the bowl haircut, and she is always wearing this dark denim skirt she used to have. With sneakers.
Friday, June 5, 2015
Tennis
So I played some tennis for the first time in a while. When I was younger, my best friend, Brad and I played tennis with each other. I would win and it would drive him crazy. Losing to a GIRL. Then, he got better and better and is obviously a dude, so one day he was like Hey, let's break out those old tennis balls, and of course it was all I could do to keep my pants on as the whizzing balls of awesome tennis flew past me. Well done, Bradford.
A couple of years ago, I decided to see what was out there in terms of tennis. Because it's awkward to ask people, "Do you play tennis?" But guess what? In order to play, you need at least one other person. So you have to ask sometimes.
I feel like I might as well say, "How much do you weigh?" or "What's your IQ?" For some reason, the "Do you play tennis" question automatically has me commanding a yacht through a river of gold that leads to my mansion made of diamonds.. And the other person looks at me, and is like no, I grew up in a basket outside of Dunkin Donut's. Awkward.
So anyway, I went online and wouldn't you know it there is a secret tennis society where people join a flex league and play whenever they are available. So of course I run into several issues. You have to rank yourself. Oh my.
What level do you play at? Jesus. And they describe them. So it's like at a level 1 you are smoking cigs and drinking wine on the court. At a level five you are a combo of Superman and Venus Williams. The descriptions are the best
Level 1.5 "This player has limited experience with stroke development and is still working primarily on getting the ball into play. This player is not ready to compete." Ha.
Translation: This player is actually three years old. He is not potty trained and therefore cannot challenge other piggly wigglies.
In case you are interested:
A couple of years ago, I decided to see what was out there in terms of tennis. Because it's awkward to ask people, "Do you play tennis?" But guess what? In order to play, you need at least one other person. So you have to ask sometimes.
I feel like I might as well say, "How much do you weigh?" or "What's your IQ?" For some reason, the "Do you play tennis" question automatically has me commanding a yacht through a river of gold that leads to my mansion made of diamonds.. And the other person looks at me, and is like no, I grew up in a basket outside of Dunkin Donut's. Awkward.
So anyway, I went online and wouldn't you know it there is a secret tennis society where people join a flex league and play whenever they are available. So of course I run into several issues. You have to rank yourself. Oh my.
What level do you play at? Jesus. And they describe them. So it's like at a level 1 you are smoking cigs and drinking wine on the court. At a level five you are a combo of Superman and Venus Williams. The descriptions are the best
Level 1.5 "This player has limited experience with stroke development and is still working primarily on getting the ball into play. This player is not ready to compete." Ha.
Translation: This player is actually three years old. He is not potty trained and therefore cannot challenge other piggly wigglies.
In case you are interested:
NTRP LEVEL: 1.5
This player has had limited experience with stroke development and is still working primarily on getting the ball into play. This player is not yet ready to compete.
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NTRP LEVEL: 2.0
This player needs on-court experience, with an emphasis on play. This player struggles to find an appropriate contact point, needs stroke development/lessons and is not yet familiar with basic positions for singles and doubles.
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NTRP LEVEL: 2.5
This player is learning to judge where the ball is going when receiving the ball, although movement and recovery are not in sync. Can sustain a rally of slow pace with other players of similar ability and is beginning to develop strokes. This player is becoming more familiar with the basic positions for singles and doubles. This player is ready to play social matches, leagues and low-level tournaments.
Potential limitations: grip weaknesses; not attempting full swing on serve; inconsistent toss on serve; limited transitions to net.
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NTRP LEVEL: 3.0
This player is fairly consistent when hitting medium-paced shots, but is not comfortable with all strokes and lacks execution when trying for directional control, depth, pace or altering distance of shots. Most common doubles formation is one up, one back.
Potential limitations: consistency when applying or handling pace; difficulty handling shots “outside of their strike zone”; can be uncomfortable at the net.
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NTRP LEVEL: 3.5
This player has achieved improved stroke dependability with directional control on moderate shots, but still lacks depth, variety and the ability to alter distance of shots. The effective use of lobs, overheads, approach shots, and volleys is limited due to a lack of confidence. This player is more comfortable at the net, has improved court awareness, and is developing teamwork in doubles.
Potential limitations or strengths: “This is the level at which it begins to be about what skills a player can display on court, not what they can’t.” Players at this level may start to utilize mental skills related to concentration, tactics and strategy.
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NTRP LEVEL: 4.0
This player has dependable strokes, including directional control, depth and the ability to alter distance of shots on both forehand and backhand sides during moderately paced play, plus the ability to use lobs, overheads, approach shots, and volleys with more success. This player occasionally forces errors when serving. Rallies may be lost due to impatience. Teamwork in doubles is evident.
Potential strengths: less likely to beat themselves; more dependable second serve; recognizes opportunities to finish points.
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NTRP LEVEL: 4.5
This player has begun to vary the use of pace and spins, has good movement, can control distance and depth of shots, and is beginning to develop game plans according to strengths and weaknesses. This player can hit the first serve with power and accuracy and can place the second serve. This player tends to overhit on difficult shots. Aggressive net play is common in doubles.
Potential strengths: points are won and lost off the serve more often; better able to cover weaknesses; beginning to develop a weapon around which their game can be built.
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NTRP LEVEL: 5.0
This player has good shot anticipation and frequently has an outstanding shot or attribute around which their game can be structured. This player has the confidence to regularly hit winners or force errors off of short balls and can put away volleys, can successfully execute lobs, drop shots, half volleys, overheads, and has good depth and spin on most second serves.
Potential strengths: better decision making; covers and disguises weaknesses well; mentally tougher, but can still break down in stress situations.
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NTRP LEVEL: 5.5
This player has developed pace and/or consistency as a major weapon. This player can vary strategies and styles of play in competitive situations and hit dependable shots in stress situations.
Potential strengths: can hit offensively at any time; can vary strategies and styles of play in competitive situations; first and second serves can be depended upon in stress situations.
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NTRP LEVEL: 6.0 - 7.0
The 6.0 player typically has had intensive training for national tournaments or top level collegiate competition, and has obtained a national ranking. The 6.5 and 7.0 are world-class players.
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Thursday, June 4, 2015
The Pool
Hmmm yes. The pool. So just recently (as in four hours ago) I was blogging about all of the things I said I would never do, krazy glue my son to a beehive to make a point or whatever. And of course one of these things is like I would NEVER leave my kids unattended at the pool. Or by the ocean. Or in a shark's mouth. Obvs.
When you have ONE kid. When you have one kid, you basically can velcro that child to your fannypack and go about all your wonderful tra la la ings. You can disco dance, stick junior on the strobe light, you can go jogging with little bunny boodle in a stroller. Bike riding? Slap that kid into the seat behind you and off you go! Have a doctor's appointment or a job interview? Basically one child can fold up into a convenient travelling roller suitcase to be showcased at any given time.
Oh hello, enter second child. What a different ball game we are playing here! Now, I do agree that it really is very dependent on how close your kids are in age/ gender and disposition, but I have always said with two children it's not a double situation its an exponential situation. So if you have two in diapers its not oh boy now we've added another. Yay! It's more like oh boy one poopy diaper is now MILLIONS OF POOPY DIAPERS ON SPRINGS CIRCLING AROUND ME and MILLIONS OF SCREAMING BABIES ARE PLAYING OVER AND OVER ON A TAPE OF SCREAMING BABIES.
All of a sudden your serene We have one child who serves us afternoon tea while we reread Oliver Twist becomes two screaming midget prizefighters who will not rest until blood is drawn. And then imagine. A third....
So now, of COURSE I would never let one of my only child's shoelaces stay untied, becomes now all of my children are tied together with shoelaces for the safety of the family. And then yes, back now to the pool.
So yesterday I took all THREE of my kids to the pool. The oldest two can swim up down and sideways, so they wear an orange band and require a "parent to be on the pool deck" which is akin to saying a parent must step out of the normally tempered human being climate into a misty cloud of baby nougat with a super slippery floor.
The youngest wears a mandatory swim diaper and some life saving device called a puggly wuglly or no, puddle jumper. Now my girl has Mama's swim genes so basically she can take this puddle jumper off and bury it in the deep end of the pool, cover it in sprinkles then start a game of Scattegorries or a scavenger hunt where she lights a cig at the bottom of the pool and waits for everyone to catch up.
So then the lifeguards at the Y decide to flex their stuff. I am standing at the end of the pool and speaking to my two older kids while they swim.
Embryo lifeguard: Excuse me, do you have any children in the pool wearing a life jacket? And I am so happy cause NO I have three children: two are wearing goggles and an orange wristband and the youngest one is wearing a puddle jumper. So take your diseased life jackets and go, but wait my husband says are puddle jumpers included? And the terrified but lovely preteen is like um yeah. Duh.
Okay. Yes, she is mine. For now.
"So you have to, like, have to be IN the water with your child an arm's distance away." Twirl finger around hair.
I look at Eleanor, who is in fact, an arm's distance away from me. But my feet are OUT of the water. She is wearing the unnecessary puddle jumper, surrounded by her brother and sister who are wearing Gold Olympic swim medals around their necks. I am standing next to her half merman of a father while six hundred and forty-and half lifeguards surround the one inch deep water, each holding a body-sized red american cross floating device that could save Hercules from getting swept up in a tornado.
Let me just step one inch to my left. Okay now I am in the water. Twirl hair.
When you have ONE kid. When you have one kid, you basically can velcro that child to your fannypack and go about all your wonderful tra la la ings. You can disco dance, stick junior on the strobe light, you can go jogging with little bunny boodle in a stroller. Bike riding? Slap that kid into the seat behind you and off you go! Have a doctor's appointment or a job interview? Basically one child can fold up into a convenient travelling roller suitcase to be showcased at any given time.
Oh hello, enter second child. What a different ball game we are playing here! Now, I do agree that it really is very dependent on how close your kids are in age/ gender and disposition, but I have always said with two children it's not a double situation its an exponential situation. So if you have two in diapers its not oh boy now we've added another. Yay! It's more like oh boy one poopy diaper is now MILLIONS OF POOPY DIAPERS ON SPRINGS CIRCLING AROUND ME and MILLIONS OF SCREAMING BABIES ARE PLAYING OVER AND OVER ON A TAPE OF SCREAMING BABIES.
All of a sudden your serene We have one child who serves us afternoon tea while we reread Oliver Twist becomes two screaming midget prizefighters who will not rest until blood is drawn. And then imagine. A third....
So now, of COURSE I would never let one of my only child's shoelaces stay untied, becomes now all of my children are tied together with shoelaces for the safety of the family. And then yes, back now to the pool.
So yesterday I took all THREE of my kids to the pool. The oldest two can swim up down and sideways, so they wear an orange band and require a "parent to be on the pool deck" which is akin to saying a parent must step out of the normally tempered human being climate into a misty cloud of baby nougat with a super slippery floor.
The youngest wears a mandatory swim diaper and some life saving device called a puggly wuglly or no, puddle jumper. Now my girl has Mama's swim genes so basically she can take this puddle jumper off and bury it in the deep end of the pool, cover it in sprinkles then start a game of Scattegorries or a scavenger hunt where she lights a cig at the bottom of the pool and waits for everyone to catch up.
So then the lifeguards at the Y decide to flex their stuff. I am standing at the end of the pool and speaking to my two older kids while they swim.
Embryo lifeguard: Excuse me, do you have any children in the pool wearing a life jacket? And I am so happy cause NO I have three children: two are wearing goggles and an orange wristband and the youngest one is wearing a puddle jumper. So take your diseased life jackets and go, but wait my husband says are puddle jumpers included? And the terrified but lovely preteen is like um yeah. Duh.
Okay. Yes, she is mine. For now.
"So you have to, like, have to be IN the water with your child an arm's distance away." Twirl finger around hair.
I look at Eleanor, who is in fact, an arm's distance away from me. But my feet are OUT of the water. She is wearing the unnecessary puddle jumper, surrounded by her brother and sister who are wearing Gold Olympic swim medals around their necks. I am standing next to her half merman of a father while six hundred and forty-and half lifeguards surround the one inch deep water, each holding a body-sized red american cross floating device that could save Hercules from getting swept up in a tornado.
Let me just step one inch to my left. Okay now I am in the water. Twirl hair.
Wednesday, June 3, 2015
Parenting
So of course there is a bunch of stuff I said I would NEVER do. Then I had some kids. So of course I was like I would never pee on myself. Or spank or holler, etc.
I am listening to a webinar right now with a "parenting coach" who is borderline ridiculous. The webinar is free, and I am wondering if all the people in the chat are actually plants. There is way too much contributing going on. And this woman is great except she thinks it's possible to never yell in order to enforce a rule, never give time outs and never use the count to three. So basically everything I use is out and when I walk into the kitchen to find Teddy making a stew of carrots, onions, and sisters, I am supposed to immediately sit down in an advanced yoga pose and start humming calmly. She has two kids, so I don't know what her deal is. I just saw a picture so maybe they aren't real. She sounds very peppy. I think she is on uppers. Maybe she needs to teach 25 kids in a classroom with no teacher's aide for a year.
I mean, I am a pretty calm parent. I don't yell a lot or spank. This does not mean I am super awesome at parenting. It means I use other methods that are probably equally as terrifying to kids. Like sighing loudly. I am definitely a sigher. The message is the same. You. Are. Annoying. Me. And a lot of the things our parents used certainly worked - the holler, the spank the what have you. So I definitely try not to judge when I see or hear parents doing what I consider somewhat crazy things. You wanna tie your kid to a backpack and attach it to your ankle? Who am I to judge? Maybe being a teacher I have seen more parenting in action. Nobody knows how really hard it is unless they are in your situation. Oh wait, the webinar lady is trying to sell me something. I am so surprised.
Oh okay so one of the things I said I would never do but now is actually a good thing. (So not like soiling one's self or wearing a diaper.) Crazy weird exercise classes. I would look at those guys and be like, um, no. Not for me. I used to belong to LA Fitness, and did Zumba and yoga there. But then it made more sense to switch to the Y for the kids, so now I have a strong-willed Scorpio daughter who pretty much, at two years of age, rules the roost. So I take whatever class is going on at the time E decides she has eaten enough crackers and tried on enough of mommy's shoes and now she wants to go to "school".
Consequently I have found myself in spinning classes (never thought I would do that), body combat classes, body pump classes and pretty much any class you can think of. If it is at the right time, I just walk in and take it. So far I have been able to avoid step classes, but I am sure I will eventually bite that bullet. I have to say, I am glad I decided to try the new classes, but I am a little wary of all the PROPS.
Zumba and yoga and body combat (where you punch the air) are pretty low key. Body pump you need a barbell and free weights and a bench. Cx works you need a pilates tube and free weights and a mat. It can get a little complicated. As long as nobody tells me to bring the toenails of a dragon, I am good to go, I guess.
I am listening to a webinar right now with a "parenting coach" who is borderline ridiculous. The webinar is free, and I am wondering if all the people in the chat are actually plants. There is way too much contributing going on. And this woman is great except she thinks it's possible to never yell in order to enforce a rule, never give time outs and never use the count to three. So basically everything I use is out and when I walk into the kitchen to find Teddy making a stew of carrots, onions, and sisters, I am supposed to immediately sit down in an advanced yoga pose and start humming calmly. She has two kids, so I don't know what her deal is. I just saw a picture so maybe they aren't real. She sounds very peppy. I think she is on uppers. Maybe she needs to teach 25 kids in a classroom with no teacher's aide for a year.
I mean, I am a pretty calm parent. I don't yell a lot or spank. This does not mean I am super awesome at parenting. It means I use other methods that are probably equally as terrifying to kids. Like sighing loudly. I am definitely a sigher. The message is the same. You. Are. Annoying. Me. And a lot of the things our parents used certainly worked - the holler, the spank the what have you. So I definitely try not to judge when I see or hear parents doing what I consider somewhat crazy things. You wanna tie your kid to a backpack and attach it to your ankle? Who am I to judge? Maybe being a teacher I have seen more parenting in action. Nobody knows how really hard it is unless they are in your situation. Oh wait, the webinar lady is trying to sell me something. I am so surprised.
Oh okay so one of the things I said I would never do but now is actually a good thing. (So not like soiling one's self or wearing a diaper.) Crazy weird exercise classes. I would look at those guys and be like, um, no. Not for me. I used to belong to LA Fitness, and did Zumba and yoga there. But then it made more sense to switch to the Y for the kids, so now I have a strong-willed Scorpio daughter who pretty much, at two years of age, rules the roost. So I take whatever class is going on at the time E decides she has eaten enough crackers and tried on enough of mommy's shoes and now she wants to go to "school".
Consequently I have found myself in spinning classes (never thought I would do that), body combat classes, body pump classes and pretty much any class you can think of. If it is at the right time, I just walk in and take it. So far I have been able to avoid step classes, but I am sure I will eventually bite that bullet. I have to say, I am glad I decided to try the new classes, but I am a little wary of all the PROPS.
Zumba and yoga and body combat (where you punch the air) are pretty low key. Body pump you need a barbell and free weights and a bench. Cx works you need a pilates tube and free weights and a mat. It can get a little complicated. As long as nobody tells me to bring the toenails of a dragon, I am good to go, I guess.
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