There seems to be a huge culture clash at my house. It usually crops up around holidays. Here, some actual (abridged) conversations around our house.
B- we need to figure out the Christmas list and budget for the kids.
N-what do you mean?
B-well, I want to have about 5 gifts each for the kids so I need to figure out a list and what we can spend.
N-well, that's not how we did it.
B-do tell.
N-my dad just gave us $50 dollars and told us to get what we wanted.
Ok, despite the fact that this would completely ruin the "magic" of Christmas, you know going to bed with an empty tree and waking up to see that Santa's been by. In what world is it a good idea to turn the entire sum of Christmas dollars over to a two and four year old and let them have at it? We would have a house full of bubble tape and permanent markers. While I can appreciate the whole "avoid the day after return line" philosophy of this approach I'm fairly certain it only came into play after Nate, who is the youngest, was able to display fairly reasonable purchasing abilities and his dad was like, "all right, I think they all got it, let the countries govern themselves" My dear husband seems to completely over estimate the kids' brain age in relation to their actual ages.
B-we need to take a dish to my family thanksgiving what do you think we should do
N- WONTONS
B- for thanksgiving??????
N- what were you thinking?
B- I don't know, stuffing, sweet potatoes, corn, mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberries, you know the usual stuff. What did you have?
N- well, we had a turkey (loaf, I discovered) and then like, chow mien, egg rolls, wontons, fried rice.........
B (stunned) yeah..ok....whatever.
Listen, I don't have to be right all the time. The wontons were a hit and have become new tradition. See I can compromise. But no turkey loaf for me. Easter set off a whole new kind of confusion.
B- I need to get the baskets ready for the Easter Bunny to come.
N- baskets?
B- Yeah, at our house you left your empty basket out and the bunny filled it with small toys and candy and then hid it for you to find.
N- no that's not how it goes at all we woke up an there were small candies and toys around the house.
B- oh hidden?
N- no, just all over the living room floor.
B- (thinking of conceding) oh and then you gathered it up and put it in your baskets?
N- what are the baskets about? We just used grocery sacks.
B- ooooohkaaaay, were doing this one my way.
4.28.2011
4.27.2011
A funny thing happened on the way to my Mother's
The thing that has kept me from starting this blog is where to begin. I still have no idea so I'm just going to jump right in and share the details as I go. I've always wanted a cast. No, not a high kicking song belting broadway crew. I'm talking about the thing you get when you haven't quite mastered the monkey bar cherry drop and you have to be rushed to emergency for x-rays and crutches, that kind if cast. I can remember clutching this leg or that arm and howling for my mom to take me to the emergency room because I was sure it was broken this time. And don't even get her started on the time I refused to move my arm for a whole day begging for an x-ray so I could finally get that plaster trophy (and the sympathy I deserved) only to break form at the last minute when the doc balanced the patient file on my head and I snatched it out of thin air as it slipped off. Whaddya know? A miracle.
Turns out a cast was never in the stars for me. The are some questionable nose injuries but no proven breaks. Flash forward from attention seeking youth to (reasonably) responsible adult. Whilst walking (practically skipping on my way to a shopping trip with my momma) down the stairs in my garage I step precariously over the loose cans of green beans and creamed corn rolling around at the base of the step. Wait, you all don't have loose cans of vegetables in extremely dangerous pathways in your houses (or garages)? Oh come on where's your sense of adventure? I step at a ridiculously odd angle, feel my ankle bone touch pavement while I am still standing, and hear a loud POP! I immediately find myself face down on the cold hard gray.
I've heard of your life flashing before your eyes in times of crisis. What I haven't heard of is horrible stories of other people's terrifying injuries resurfacing during your own maladies. My brain instantly conjures the story my brother told of a guy whose leg bone went out the side of his ankle and stuck into the mud. (funny no?) So I lay there sure that the minute I get a look at my leg the bone is going to be looking right back at me,and cursing my brother for ever telling me the story in the first place. Those big brothers, they should be footing all the therapy bills I think. I finally get up, hobble back indoors (with some hubby help) and decide whether I want the embarrassment of going to the urgent care. You see, it's not nearly as exciting when you're (ahem) thirty something as when you something-teen. And you know the sympathy is only going to get you so far before the kids are whining for snacks and you are crutching it around the kitchen trying to decide if it's responsible to take your pain pill at nap time and risk sleeping 3 plus hours longer than them.
A word to the wise, no matter how many attempts you have at telling your "I tripped over the disgusting mess at the bottom of the stairs that shouldn't have been there in the first place" story no one cares how emphatically you insist that even though the cans were there you are pretty sure you didn't actually step on one. Why I Locked on the particular importance of getting this across to anyone and everyone I had to relay the story to is still a giant mystery to me. I became crazed with pointing out that, yes I am lazy enough to leave cans there that should have been picked up a month ago but no, I am definitely not stupid enough to step on one. Why? Weird. It became the lead line of the tale, "well, there were some cans at the bottom of the stairs but I DIDN'T step on them." If I was embarrassed about the mess you would think I would change the whole setting "well, you know, I was rescuing a kitten while helping the elderly when I stepped around a ladybug to avoid crushing it and, oops, down I went." whatever, I guess I'll have to stick with the stupid can story, but I didn't step on one.
Well, after a couple of hours in the urgent care (twenty bucks and three x-rays later) it was just a bad sprain. No cast for me. It felt sort of odd to experience relief instead of disappointment at the news. Like I had given up on my last childhood dream.
And that's it , my first blog post. My idea is just talk bout things that make me laugh that I think will make you laugh too. So sit back, relax and enjoy the hilarity that ensues.
Turns out a cast was never in the stars for me. The are some questionable nose injuries but no proven breaks. Flash forward from attention seeking youth to (reasonably) responsible adult. Whilst walking (practically skipping on my way to a shopping trip with my momma) down the stairs in my garage I step precariously over the loose cans of green beans and creamed corn rolling around at the base of the step. Wait, you all don't have loose cans of vegetables in extremely dangerous pathways in your houses (or garages)? Oh come on where's your sense of adventure? I step at a ridiculously odd angle, feel my ankle bone touch pavement while I am still standing, and hear a loud POP! I immediately find myself face down on the cold hard gray.
I've heard of your life flashing before your eyes in times of crisis. What I haven't heard of is horrible stories of other people's terrifying injuries resurfacing during your own maladies. My brain instantly conjures the story my brother told of a guy whose leg bone went out the side of his ankle and stuck into the mud. (funny no?) So I lay there sure that the minute I get a look at my leg the bone is going to be looking right back at me,and cursing my brother for ever telling me the story in the first place. Those big brothers, they should be footing all the therapy bills I think. I finally get up, hobble back indoors (with some hubby help) and decide whether I want the embarrassment of going to the urgent care. You see, it's not nearly as exciting when you're (ahem) thirty something as when you something-teen. And you know the sympathy is only going to get you so far before the kids are whining for snacks and you are crutching it around the kitchen trying to decide if it's responsible to take your pain pill at nap time and risk sleeping 3 plus hours longer than them.
A word to the wise, no matter how many attempts you have at telling your "I tripped over the disgusting mess at the bottom of the stairs that shouldn't have been there in the first place" story no one cares how emphatically you insist that even though the cans were there you are pretty sure you didn't actually step on one. Why I Locked on the particular importance of getting this across to anyone and everyone I had to relay the story to is still a giant mystery to me. I became crazed with pointing out that, yes I am lazy enough to leave cans there that should have been picked up a month ago but no, I am definitely not stupid enough to step on one. Why? Weird. It became the lead line of the tale, "well, there were some cans at the bottom of the stairs but I DIDN'T step on them." If I was embarrassed about the mess you would think I would change the whole setting "well, you know, I was rescuing a kitten while helping the elderly when I stepped around a ladybug to avoid crushing it and, oops, down I went." whatever, I guess I'll have to stick with the stupid can story, but I didn't step on one.
Well, after a couple of hours in the urgent care (twenty bucks and three x-rays later) it was just a bad sprain. No cast for me. It felt sort of odd to experience relief instead of disappointment at the news. Like I had given up on my last childhood dream.
And that's it , my first blog post. My idea is just talk bout things that make me laugh that I think will make you laugh too. So sit back, relax and enjoy the hilarity that ensues.
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