Archive for the ‘Dena's Favorite Posts’ Category
My daughter was doing her math homework and asked me “does six plus eight equal twelve?” I said, “No, try again”.
She started to whimper and said, “Does six plus eight equal eleven?” I calmly and encouragingly said, “No, honey, use a number line. You can do it. Try again.”
Then the whimper escaladed into crying, got louder and finally she said defeated, “does it equal fourteen?” I said, “Yes, that’s right! You did it.”
She replied (and frankly, I’m guessing here since the hysteria made it difficult to make out all the words) “But six plus eight can’t be fourteen!!” I said “But it does!! You were right!”
“It can’t be fourteen!!!” She said. “But it is. You did it. You did a good job!” I said.
She was inconsolable. Crocodile tears were running down her cheeks as her eyes bounced back and forth trying to take in the information I had just given her. She continued to insist that six plus eight couldn’t be fourteen. Considering her response I thought to myself “six plus eight is still fourteen, right?” When I sure I was still right I said “but it is fourteen, honey. Why do you keep saying it can’t be fourteen?”
Falling back into her chair with the tears of confusion in her eyes she loudly mutters “BUT WE HAVEN’T LEARNED 14 YET!! Apparently in her mind the answers to the math questions can only be numbers she had previously learned in school. She hadn’t learned the number 14 yet so it simply just did not exist in her world. It couldn’t be 14 because they hadn’t gotten to that chapter yet.
I said, “But it is…six plus eight is fourteen. The answer can still be fourteen even if you haven’t gotten to that chapter yet.” “It can’t be…it has to be 13 or 12”, she said. It was just unfathomable to her that the answer was 14.
It must be nice to be able to ignore the obvious right answers in life because you haven’t covered that chapter yet. There are so many times in life when ignoring the obvious answer seems like the best option. I can’t help but worry about how she’ll handle the first time a boy breaks her heart, or the first time she gets turned down for the job she’s always wanted. I hope she handles it better than she did her math facts. Maybe some things are worth crying over though….even just a few tears. Think of how happy she’s be next week when six plus eight does equal fourteen.
I guess I can’t blame her though. How many times in life do we lose it because we think that whatever crappy thing that’s happening to us….shouldn’t be happening to us? Maybe God has a reason for it…..he just hasn’t covered that chapter for us yet.
I’m not proud of this but this is my story…..
I’ve been working a lot lately so when I got home Friday night I spent whatever energy I had left with the kids, so by the time they went to bed I was…done. You know the feeling of “done”. It’s when dog hair is left to float around as un-vacuumed tumbleweeds; shoes, toys and coats are left on the floor and the Friday night pizza leftovers will be left out on the counter til morning. At that point all I could think about was the couch and maybe a stiff drink. Jim was gone for the night and so I was dreaming about the Kahlua he had bought for me earlier in the week. I don’t drink much but when I do I like Kahlua and Cream.
The walk to the fridge was like a final sprint to the victory line. I had survived another long week of work and nothing was going to taste better at that moment then Kahlua and Cream. I opened the door…spotted my friend “Kahlua” and noticed that he was alone. There was no milk, no cream..nothing. I began to panic and my mind quickly went over the options. The kids were in bed so I couldn’t run out and the only thing left in the fridge was applesauce and my daughters Lactaid Milk. Yeah, I said it…Lactaid. My daughter has a major problem with gas and we suspect a lactose issue so it was only thing left in the house that was “milk-ish”.
I thought about it…but ironically not for a long time…and poured my first “Kahlau and Lactaid”. It wasn’t that bad especially if you make it 9 parts Kahlua and 1 part Lactaid. I’m sure the Lactaid people never had this in mind for their “20 recipes you can make better with Lactaid” booklet but maybe it’s time for them “think outside the box”.
I’m pretty sure you think less of me now….but I’m okay with that.
Recently, I’ve had to talk to my kids, more indepth, about drugs. There is a kid in our neighborhood walking by our house high on drugs and I wanted to make sure the kids had the information they needed to identify bad situations and make good decisions.
These are difficult discussions so I wanted to make sure I handled the topic with care. We sat the kids down and asked them if they wanted to “hang out” with kids on drugs…they apley said “no”. I asked them if they even knew how to tell if someone was on drugs. My son mentioned that a person on drugs might have “red eyes”. I said, “yes, and they might also look really tired and their eye lids might hang down like they are tired.”
I wanted to make sure that they could get a good description of someone on drugs in their minds so they could identify this boy without me even telling them who he was. I told them they had to be detectives.
I said, “what else might you see?”. They mentioned that the person might walk funny. I told them “yes” and I showed them how someone might sway when they walk. They said “ the person might talk funny”. I said, “yes, they might garble their speech as well” and I acted out how a person might sound.
I was sure I was giving them all the clues they needed to identify someone that might be a danger to them and to stay away from. After we talked about all these descriptions I said “Now, does this sound like anyone you might know around here?”. They thought for a while and my daughter finally raised her hand and very proudly guessed……“Grandmom?”
I had one of those “I’m a horrible mom” moments on Saturday night. I was up late trying to figure out Quickbooks, which I’m pretty sure is the devils work, and I’m drunk. That’s the only way I can look at my finances…drunk. It somehow makes the income numbers seem bigger the the debt smaller.
I realize how late it is around 2:30 am and that I have to get my Easter “presents” out for the kids. I always buy them “candy from mommy” in addition to the candy from the Easter Bunny. So, it’s somewhere around 2:30 am when I realize …I have no idea where I put the candy. Yep, I had prepared well in advance for this day and had hidden the candy in a great spot. And now, it’s 2:30 am, I’m drunk and I have no idea where I put the candy. So, it was at that moment I realize that “I” now have to go on an Easter egg hunt for this candy. Yep…me…drunk, falling down, and cursing having my own hellish candy hunt. It took me about 40 minutes to find it. I was so afraid that if I didn’t find my candy and the Easter Bunny didn’t come the kids might not get anything… AND I was too drunk to even run to the store and get them peeps. Not even peeps!!!
It was a wake up call, my friends! I feel like we can all learn a lesson here. It was either “Don’t drink on Easter Eve” or “Always keep peeps in your house”. I’m note sure which yet, but frankly they are both sound advice.
I rarely do “sequel” posts but I thought that “Turd In Her Pocket” left too many people hanging.
Turns out the story was completely plausible. Just as I thought. But maybe that’s only because I’m a mom. Here goes:
My sister had taken her son to the store. Of course when they arrived she realized that her son had pooped. To her frustration, she realized that she didn’t have any diapers with her. She only had to run in the store quickly so she figured she would just scoop out the log with wipes (sorry to be so graphic but you get the drift) and throw it in the trash can outside the store.
All was well with the plan until she ran into a friend in the parking lot. Not an “I can tell you everything” friend but a “let me pretend I have my life together” friend. Just as she was trying to pretend she was leading a normal stable life it dawns on her that she has a turd in her pocket.
In her rush to “get in and get out” of the store she had forgotten the most important part of her excellent plan. The part where she and the turd separate. It was still in her pocket. So now, the entire time they are talking, she is thinking, ” Can she smell the turd in my pocket?”.
It’s moments like this that define motherhood. Because, before having kids, if you ever had a turd in your pocket you would run, scream, tear off your jacket and get as far away as possible.
But in motherhood…you stand your ground. You ponder what choices you made that brought you to this moment in your life. But in the end, you just take it in stride. Because right after that embarrassment subsides……you need to figure out what’s for dinner.
My sister e-mailed me today. Normal chat. She told me how her kids were doing. They are five and two. She wrote about when she’s coming to visit again and asked me how my kids were doing. Nothing out of the ordinary. I figured I would talk to her the next day or so. Oddly, though, she ended the letter with………….
“Did I mention I carried a turd around in my pocket yesterday? I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.”
Part of me thought, “Oh, yeah, turd in the pocket. Never did it, but I could see how that might happen.”
Then I thought …….”WHAT????”
When in my life did this become normal chatter? When did that phrase no longer seem odd to me? Somewhere between squeezing my boobs into a push up bra in college for free beer and my last big night out going food shopping alone, this became part of my every day.
I’m looking forward to the story. I’m sure it will make me smile and cringe at the same time. I accept that these are the stories of my life…………..but I don’t have to like it.
The school Christmas pageant is pure Christmas genius. How can you not love it? A bunch of stressed out parents jammed into an auditorium, and 24 different costume interpretations of what the manger animals and three wise men looked like. This year we had cows, donkeys and chickens too. (I didn’t even know there were chickens at the nativity.) Unfortunately, no one in the audience did either and there is no easy way to make a homemade chicken costume look real. Most of them just put feathers on there heads…but depending on how they are arranged they can look more like Indians than chickens. It was great though. We all know the story… Jesus…the manger…no room for a bed…but you add some Indians to the equation and now you’ve got my attention.
My son’s class were stars. They had ordered their costumes from one of those catalogs and they were pretty cheap. Unfortunately, when they put their costumes on and had that little point of the star on top of their heads…from far away they looked like Hershey Kisses. And then I was just hungry.
Then the Three Kings arrived. To my surprise…they had Winnie the Pooh with them! I SWEAR… There was a child in that Pooh brown color with little ears on top of his head and a tail. Maybe Winnie was at the Nativity! What a completely new and interesting twist on this year’s Nativity. Gold, Frankincense and Honey. Someone whispered “it’s a camel” but in my mind, it was Winnie.
So great job this year Teachers!! Keep it up. Maybe next year you could add some chocolate, that new Disney Princess and Regis Philbin. I swear I will come early and sit right up front.
Why are guys so different than us….thirty years on this planet and I still have no idea why. What I do know is that they just don’t care about the same things as we do. Yesterday we went on my son’s 3rd grade class trip to Historic Philadelphia. All the parents were asked to bring a bag to carry the kids lunches in…I had a backpack. Here is what one Dad brought to carry the kids lunches in….I think he had more than just sandwiches in it. (it’s a Coors Light bag)
and of course, kids need to constantly be learning. Good thing one dad remembered his special shirt.