Another old piece.
Summer is wonderful. We’ve been enjoying a slightly more relaxed lifestyle now that the school buses are parked. I don’t know what you had for breakfast this morning, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t what I had.
As a mom, I try to be gracious when presented with surprises, though sleep deprivation often keeps grace in a box on the shelf. And most days actually finding that box or even remembering which shelf it’s on is out of the question.
Last night I stayed up late watching Mexico beat Croatia in the World Cup of soccer. For those who are not soccer nuts the World Cup is the biggest men’s sporting event in the universe – though it’s called the World Cup because none of the competing teams are from another planet. It was a good game, though Croatia was not always playing politely (something a Mom notices – even if she is half-Croatian) but I digress.
I woke up tired and didn’t leap out of bed to make breakfast. And my husband didn’t leap out of bed to make breakfast either – which he nearly always does. So the five-year-old made breakfast. To truly appreciate this story you have to know the five-year-old is usually the reason we’re sleep deprived. But lately she’s sleeping through the night and incredibly energized by 6:30 am. So this morning she applied her energies to breakfast. She decided that my breakfast would be served in a bowl. My husband’s cereal was served in a red “You are Special Today” plate. She later told me “it was his turn because you had it last time”.
As a mom I have tried to teach my children the benefits of a balanced diet. I would like to think that is why this morning my cereal bowl was filled with half Harris Teeter Toasted Oats and half La Choy Chow Mein noodles. Admittedly I was still tired when I made it to my cereal bowl. But I managed a cheery “Thank you!” and “what a great breakfast”, added a large helping of blueberries with my soymilk and ate it all up. Then I explained that it was such a special breakfast that I could probably not eat it everyday. The five-year-old looked pleased with herself when she walked away. Then I hid the Chow Mein noodles.
Food for Thought © 2002
Janice Arrowood
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Rules Stink
I'm uploading years of stuff written in tidbits of time between needy children.
There has been a lot of discussion about rules at our house lately. All kinds of rules. The 10 Commandments. School vaccination policies. Cleaning your room. Chewing with your mouth closed.
Our 4-year-old is aware that she has to get some shots before she can go to kindergarten. She doesn’t think shots are a good idea at all, so she said she would just stay at Preschool. I told her that there was a rule that said you had to have shots when you’re five years old no matter where you go to school. She wasn’t pleased. She said “I won’t go to school if I have to have shots.” Then I had to tell her the other rule. The one that says you have to go to school. She is still thinking on that one.
The 7-year-old has been working her way through the 10 commandments at church. She read them to us on the way home the other night. I had to define “covet”, which was relatively painless considering the other possibilities for conversation.
A couple of days later, the little one was sick so we bought some Ginger Ale, except at our house it’s called tasty water. It’s called that because when the big one was 3 she had her first drink of Sprite and said “that’s really tasty water”. Well, the big one wanted some of the tasty water that the little one got. The little one declared “she coveted my tasty water”! The big one, with a pained look on her face said “Am I gonna die?”
Rules Stink © 2001
Janice Arrowood
There has been a lot of discussion about rules at our house lately. All kinds of rules. The 10 Commandments. School vaccination policies. Cleaning your room. Chewing with your mouth closed.
Our 4-year-old is aware that she has to get some shots before she can go to kindergarten. She doesn’t think shots are a good idea at all, so she said she would just stay at Preschool. I told her that there was a rule that said you had to have shots when you’re five years old no matter where you go to school. She wasn’t pleased. She said “I won’t go to school if I have to have shots.” Then I had to tell her the other rule. The one that says you have to go to school. She is still thinking on that one.
The 7-year-old has been working her way through the 10 commandments at church. She read them to us on the way home the other night. I had to define “covet”, which was relatively painless considering the other possibilities for conversation.
A couple of days later, the little one was sick so we bought some Ginger Ale, except at our house it’s called tasty water. It’s called that because when the big one was 3 she had her first drink of Sprite and said “that’s really tasty water”. Well, the big one wanted some of the tasty water that the little one got. The little one declared “she coveted my tasty water”! The big one, with a pained look on her face said “Am I gonna die?”
Rules Stink © 2001
Janice Arrowood
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Parking Lot Lament
Another oldie but goodie.
Parking lots are high on my irritation list lately. Maybe you’ve noticed it too… that parking spaces have shrunk. I am convinced that somewhere out there a computer is designing parking lots using industry standard software with the default space size set to MINI Cooper instead of Chevy Trailblazer. If you’ve tried to park anywhere lately you know what I mean.
Not long ago I arrived at a shopping center to pick up a pizza and managed to barely squeeze my not so mini-van into a parking space. The good news was I could still get out of my van. The bad news was that while I was in the pizza shop the cars originally parked next to mine left, and drivers with even larger cars pulled into the adjacent spaces. Hot pizza in hand I discovered that getting back in the driver’s door of my van would force me to risk the deductible on my auto insurance policy.
Fortunately, I have years of experience as a mini-van driver so I did what any red blooded, American soccer mom would do. I opened the van’s rear sliding door, found my way through the piles of spare socks, cleats, library books and toys, and then climbed over the console table to the front seat. This was a “win-win” situation as it allowed me to spare damage to any car AND get my pizza box in without turning it sideways.
On the way home I puzzled over how difficult it is to find a “real” parking space anymore. You know the parking space I’m talking about, the one large enough for a ’74 Lincoln Continental to open all four doors, all at the same time, and still fit within the white lines on both sides. The optimist in my head suggested that “perhaps the people who own the shopping center were thinking long term… If they made parking spaces smaller they would influence the car buying public to think small and bring about world peace by lessening our dependence on fossil fuels.” The pessimist in my head foamed at the mouth in reply, “the people who own the shopping center were thinking short term... Smaller spaces mean more spaces. More spaces mean more cars. And MORE CARS MEAN MORE MONEY!” Call me cynical; the pessimist won me over.
In a perfect world we’d all love a good sized parking space with MINI Coopers parked on each side of us. And if those MINI Cooper drivers are still shopping when we leave our parking spaces then it really is a perfect world. “Perhaps in an even more perfect world we would all drive MINI Coopers” the optimist in my head mused. But “hello” I replied, “the van is paid for and I’m keeping it until I find the mates to all those spare socks”.
In the real world the quest to find a parking space that suits my social conscience is a challenge, but that’s my burden. The shopping center owner has a different focus entirely. He doesn’t care about my car as long as my money ends up in his hands. And let’s face it - Americans need to shop for some things, but we WANT to shop for everything else. As long as the shopping center owner has parking spaces we will fill them.
But here is where it gets interesting. Americans also need to eat, in fact, we LOVE to eat. And our waistlines are growing.
In a few more years, if those parking spaces aren’t any wider one of two things will have to change: either cars will need to have center aisles with doors where they now have trunks, or we’ll all be stuck in the parking lot waiting for a MINI Cooper to park next to us so we can get in or out of our cars.
The mental picture of row upon row of shoppers stuck in their SUV’s, reading their library books (or perhaps matching those spare socks), hoping for a fleet of MINI Coopers to come to their rescue caused the pessimist in my head to belly laugh. I laughed too. Then I parked the van in the garage, grabbed the pizza box and headed upstairs to feed the starving masses, ever thankful for my sliding door.
Janice Arrowood
Parking Lot Lament©2007
Parking lots are high on my irritation list lately. Maybe you’ve noticed it too… that parking spaces have shrunk. I am convinced that somewhere out there a computer is designing parking lots using industry standard software with the default space size set to MINI Cooper instead of Chevy Trailblazer. If you’ve tried to park anywhere lately you know what I mean.
Not long ago I arrived at a shopping center to pick up a pizza and managed to barely squeeze my not so mini-van into a parking space. The good news was I could still get out of my van. The bad news was that while I was in the pizza shop the cars originally parked next to mine left, and drivers with even larger cars pulled into the adjacent spaces. Hot pizza in hand I discovered that getting back in the driver’s door of my van would force me to risk the deductible on my auto insurance policy.
Fortunately, I have years of experience as a mini-van driver so I did what any red blooded, American soccer mom would do. I opened the van’s rear sliding door, found my way through the piles of spare socks, cleats, library books and toys, and then climbed over the console table to the front seat. This was a “win-win” situation as it allowed me to spare damage to any car AND get my pizza box in without turning it sideways.
On the way home I puzzled over how difficult it is to find a “real” parking space anymore. You know the parking space I’m talking about, the one large enough for a ’74 Lincoln Continental to open all four doors, all at the same time, and still fit within the white lines on both sides. The optimist in my head suggested that “perhaps the people who own the shopping center were thinking long term… If they made parking spaces smaller they would influence the car buying public to think small and bring about world peace by lessening our dependence on fossil fuels.” The pessimist in my head foamed at the mouth in reply, “the people who own the shopping center were thinking short term... Smaller spaces mean more spaces. More spaces mean more cars. And MORE CARS MEAN MORE MONEY!” Call me cynical; the pessimist won me over.
In a perfect world we’d all love a good sized parking space with MINI Coopers parked on each side of us. And if those MINI Cooper drivers are still shopping when we leave our parking spaces then it really is a perfect world. “Perhaps in an even more perfect world we would all drive MINI Coopers” the optimist in my head mused. But “hello” I replied, “the van is paid for and I’m keeping it until I find the mates to all those spare socks”.
In the real world the quest to find a parking space that suits my social conscience is a challenge, but that’s my burden. The shopping center owner has a different focus entirely. He doesn’t care about my car as long as my money ends up in his hands. And let’s face it - Americans need to shop for some things, but we WANT to shop for everything else. As long as the shopping center owner has parking spaces we will fill them.
But here is where it gets interesting. Americans also need to eat, in fact, we LOVE to eat. And our waistlines are growing.
In a few more years, if those parking spaces aren’t any wider one of two things will have to change: either cars will need to have center aisles with doors where they now have trunks, or we’ll all be stuck in the parking lot waiting for a MINI Cooper to park next to us so we can get in or out of our cars.
The mental picture of row upon row of shoppers stuck in their SUV’s, reading their library books (or perhaps matching those spare socks), hoping for a fleet of MINI Coopers to come to their rescue caused the pessimist in my head to belly laugh. I laughed too. Then I parked the van in the garage, grabbed the pizza box and headed upstairs to feed the starving masses, ever thankful for my sliding door.
Janice Arrowood
Parking Lot Lament©2007
Monday, May 19, 2008
Green Globs
This is an old piece that deserves to be posted.
I was in the shower when I noticed the first one. It was a small glob of green where the soap dish attached to the tile wall. Given my poor eyesight I was lucky to notice it, but the color caught my eye. The mold in our bathroom is usually red or black so I figured the glob was the product of human hands. Small human hands.
The morning flew by with the usual rush to get children up, dressed, fed and out the door to the bus stop. I forgot to ask about the green glob. To be honest I forget about almost everything that doesn’t grab onto my arms or legs or scream to be fed.
I spotted the next green glob in the corner of a picture frame. There was another green glob in the refrigerator. Clearly this was the work of a mastermind – I wouldn’t have given it a second thought if it had been fuzzy.
As I worked my way through the day I found several more little green globs. The mystery was getting to me. The color was too. Fearing I might not notice the seemingly obvious ones until the next millenium I began to remove them. Even in my house bright green globs can be unsightly.
As school days ended I rounded up the usual suspects. I planned to interrogate them in a friendly manner, but I wanted the truth. “Do either of you know anything about little green globs hidden around the house?” No one spoke. “I keep finding them in the strangest places and I just don’t know what to think about them.” The little one looked confused, like she wasn’t sure if she was guilty or not. The big one spoke up. “I was playing Spy Kids, Mom.” “OK” I said, “what are the little green globs supposed to be?” “Cameras” she replied.
Cameras, hither and yon, I pondered. A visionary thought, though not original. With a husband in the security business I know about the real looking but empty camera boxes that some businesses set up to make people think they’re being watched. I had a thought. The green glob version required a tad more imagination, but with some effort I could make it work. Green globs could enforce teeth brushing and discourage dirty clothes piles. The opportunities were limitless, but the thought was fleeting.
It’s been a long time since I first noticed the green globs – excuse me – the cameras. I decided to leave some of them around the house. Every morning in the shower I look right into the corner of the soap dish and I smile my best smile. In about three years I’m going to move that camera to the big one’s car.
Janice Arrowood
Green Globs © 2007
I was in the shower when I noticed the first one. It was a small glob of green where the soap dish attached to the tile wall. Given my poor eyesight I was lucky to notice it, but the color caught my eye. The mold in our bathroom is usually red or black so I figured the glob was the product of human hands. Small human hands.
The morning flew by with the usual rush to get children up, dressed, fed and out the door to the bus stop. I forgot to ask about the green glob. To be honest I forget about almost everything that doesn’t grab onto my arms or legs or scream to be fed.
I spotted the next green glob in the corner of a picture frame. There was another green glob in the refrigerator. Clearly this was the work of a mastermind – I wouldn’t have given it a second thought if it had been fuzzy.
As I worked my way through the day I found several more little green globs. The mystery was getting to me. The color was too. Fearing I might not notice the seemingly obvious ones until the next millenium I began to remove them. Even in my house bright green globs can be unsightly.
As school days ended I rounded up the usual suspects. I planned to interrogate them in a friendly manner, but I wanted the truth. “Do either of you know anything about little green globs hidden around the house?” No one spoke. “I keep finding them in the strangest places and I just don’t know what to think about them.” The little one looked confused, like she wasn’t sure if she was guilty or not. The big one spoke up. “I was playing Spy Kids, Mom.” “OK” I said, “what are the little green globs supposed to be?” “Cameras” she replied.
Cameras, hither and yon, I pondered. A visionary thought, though not original. With a husband in the security business I know about the real looking but empty camera boxes that some businesses set up to make people think they’re being watched. I had a thought. The green glob version required a tad more imagination, but with some effort I could make it work. Green globs could enforce teeth brushing and discourage dirty clothes piles. The opportunities were limitless, but the thought was fleeting.
It’s been a long time since I first noticed the green globs – excuse me – the cameras. I decided to leave some of them around the house. Every morning in the shower I look right into the corner of the soap dish and I smile my best smile. In about three years I’m going to move that camera to the big one’s car.
Janice Arrowood
Green Globs © 2007
Waiting for my laptop to come home
I picked a bad day to start a blog.
My laptop went on another vacation without me. Back to the Compaq repair center somewhere in Tennessee. To Compaq's credit they are fixing it free even though I'm 17 days out of warranty. I did load the deck on them though; knowing about their little motherboard overheating the wireless card issue... Word to the wise: always check customer service repair threads before you call points unknown to beg for repair.
It was the week for things to go crazy at my house. On Mother's Day the dishwasher smoked. It's good news/bad news though. Turns out the dishwasher is great (though also out of warranty) but the wiring in the house is bad. We already knew about the aluminum wiring, and had in fact had it "crimped" (technical term meaning: pay electrician mucho dinero to wrap copper around aluminum at all terminations and crimp together) but somehow this one electrical box was missed. But I digress.
So here I sit on the big pc in the basement. Well, not literally. But I did find time to get these few words together before the big kid found me and asked for dinner. She asked if I was writing a blog. I told her if she didn't go back upstairs it would be all about her. She will be back soon though...
My laptop went on another vacation without me. Back to the Compaq repair center somewhere in Tennessee. To Compaq's credit they are fixing it free even though I'm 17 days out of warranty. I did load the deck on them though; knowing about their little motherboard overheating the wireless card issue... Word to the wise: always check customer service repair threads before you call points unknown to beg for repair.
It was the week for things to go crazy at my house. On Mother's Day the dishwasher smoked. It's good news/bad news though. Turns out the dishwasher is great (though also out of warranty) but the wiring in the house is bad. We already knew about the aluminum wiring, and had in fact had it "crimped" (technical term meaning: pay electrician mucho dinero to wrap copper around aluminum at all terminations and crimp together) but somehow this one electrical box was missed. But I digress.
So here I sit on the big pc in the basement. Well, not literally. But I did find time to get these few words together before the big kid found me and asked for dinner. She asked if I was writing a blog. I told her if she didn't go back upstairs it would be all about her. She will be back soon though...
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