How you know your man travels too much.
In the beginning you asked for detailed itineraries including flight numbers, hotel information, and nightly activities.
After awhile you simply marked trips on the calendar by writing the destination city and a thick arrow through the week.
Now you find yourself asking questions such as "Oh, you are leaving tomorrow?" and instant messaging your spouse "Are you in Toledo? - No, I am in Toronto, Canada - Oh, I knew it started with T."
In the beginning the kids gave long goodbyes and well wishes. They asked to call Daddy at least once a night.
After awhile a short hug became a sufficient farewell and phone calls were reserved for nights mommy said, "Do I need to call your father about this?"
Now the kids wander the house spouting phrases such as "Wow, you are home still? Cool."
In the beginning you continued to cook fabulous meals from scratch and ended up with way too many leftovers because you forgot you only needed to make dinner for yourself and the small army of children who don't appreciate lemon pepper chicken with asparagus.
After awhile you got the hang of preparing smaller more kid based meals (such as mac n cheese, spaghetti and hamburger surprise). You only ran out of the vegetable a few times on nights he was in town.
Now you get asked, "What are we having for dinner tonight? - Oh, the kids and I already ate cold cereal and hot dogs, you have to fend for yourself."
And finally
In the beginning you slept many nights downstairs on the couch because you couldn't bare to be all alone in your king sized bed.
After awhile you began to appreciate the extra stretching space.
Now you whine "Move OVER!" anytime he is occupying more than a quarter of the bed.
-Sara
Showing posts with label dad moments. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dad moments. Show all posts
Monday, February 25, 2008
Friday, February 8, 2008
Almost a Year
****Warning - sensitive material, may not want to read if you are hormonal today, or extra emotional****
After my father died, I found myself poring over memories and experiences. It amazes me how many moments aligned themselves at the end of his life.
We didn't discuss death often, but when it came up there were a few issues that were clear. The first was his adamant stance on open casket. He would NOT have an open casket funeral. When he was young he went to his grandfather's funeral. The image of his dead grandfather lying in the casket haunted him. He did not want any of us to have the image of him after he passed away. One time I told him, "Oh, we will have an open casket. You will be dead. You won't know the difference."
Not a single one of us had to see him after he died. The plane crash made an open casket completely out of the question. Since I make everything all about me, I am sure it was God's way of making sure I kept my father's request.
My father also worried about arguments over his possessions. When my great-grandmother passed away, there was a mad rush over to her house to clear it out. She didn't have anything of great value, but some relatives who got there first seemed to grab items just to grab them. My dad was appalled.
He later asked my siblings and me if there was anything of sentimental significance that we wanted when he died. None of us could think of anything we HAD to HAVE if he were to die. He laughed and said, "I thought for sure you would all say my ring." He was referring to a black hills gold ring with an eagle on the front. Immediately all three of us were spouting - Well yes, we will fight over the RING!!!
Once again, the plane wreck made this point moot. They never recovered his eagle or his wedding ring. My MomL told the funeral director she only wanted the rings if they showed no signs of damage due to the accident. During the wake, I pulled him aside and made sure he knew I wanted the rings even if they were simply a pool of melted gold.
He took me into an office and explained the plane went down around 9:45 PM, he arrived on the scene around 2 AM and the wreckage was still burning. There was nothing left.
I can't decide if everything lining up was fate, or if it is simply me being a pattern geek finding every possible lined up connection. Guess I will never know.
-Sara
After my father died, I found myself poring over memories and experiences. It amazes me how many moments aligned themselves at the end of his life.
We didn't discuss death often, but when it came up there were a few issues that were clear. The first was his adamant stance on open casket. He would NOT have an open casket funeral. When he was young he went to his grandfather's funeral. The image of his dead grandfather lying in the casket haunted him. He did not want any of us to have the image of him after he passed away. One time I told him, "Oh, we will have an open casket. You will be dead. You won't know the difference."
Not a single one of us had to see him after he died. The plane crash made an open casket completely out of the question. Since I make everything all about me, I am sure it was God's way of making sure I kept my father's request.
My father also worried about arguments over his possessions. When my great-grandmother passed away, there was a mad rush over to her house to clear it out. She didn't have anything of great value, but some relatives who got there first seemed to grab items just to grab them. My dad was appalled.
He later asked my siblings and me if there was anything of sentimental significance that we wanted when he died. None of us could think of anything we HAD to HAVE if he were to die. He laughed and said, "I thought for sure you would all say my ring." He was referring to a black hills gold ring with an eagle on the front. Immediately all three of us were spouting - Well yes, we will fight over the RING!!!
Once again, the plane wreck made this point moot. They never recovered his eagle or his wedding ring. My MomL told the funeral director she only wanted the rings if they showed no signs of damage due to the accident. During the wake, I pulled him aside and made sure he knew I wanted the rings even if they were simply a pool of melted gold.
He took me into an office and explained the plane went down around 9:45 PM, he arrived on the scene around 2 AM and the wreckage was still burning. There was nothing left.
I can't decide if everything lining up was fate, or if it is simply me being a pattern geek finding every possible lined up connection. Guess I will never know.
-Sara
Thursday, January 31, 2008
But I'm feeling MUCH better now
Date night was fun! Ryan pulled into the driveway right in time to pack up the kids for grandma's house and head out to the show. The drive downtown wasn't the greatest. I was getting over being sick and hadn't eaten much that day. I will admit, I was hoping for a nice dinner beforehand, but knew we were cutting it too close. Weird phenomenon - my body became queasy at the mention of fast food. It didn't even want a healthy sub shop.
So there we were, driving to our first Broadway show since our fateful, love-sparking show we saw nearly four years ago, and I am stuck in a bitter mood.
I literally went from a mature thirty-one year old, married with four kids woman, into a jilted, spoiled, Disney princess brat in two seconds flat. I huffed and whimpered as I drove. I hate driving on date night. It's the boy's job. Of course Ryan had offered to drive, but we were pressed for time and he drives like a little old lady. I wasn't handing over the keys to that slow poke.
He tried asking me what was wrong. I kept saying a woman standard, "Nothing, I am just starving." Ryan came up with some great food suggestions, but it wasn't about food anymore. I couldn't have my dinner out, and I was refusing to accept less. However, I did stick to woman etiquette. I lied about what was bugging me. I told him thanks but my stomach wouldn't let me eat. Half true I suppose. He didn't need to know I was in the middle of a stubborn fit. If he was any sort of REAL man, he would KNOW how to fix me without having to ASK me! Duh.
Then he kept making it worse, "We will find you something. You will be fine." I didn't WANT to be fine. Men, sheesh.
At one point I literally said, "I don't know where your new positive take on life is coming from, but it is starting to seriously piss me off!" Wow, yeah, I am glad I was driving and didn't have to see his face. He was probably holding back a chuckle. He always laughs at me when I get pouty. I am sure you can guess how much laughing helps my mood.
Once we got downtown everything took a turn for the better. We found a spot on the street right in front of the theater. We saved eight bucks in parking! Ryan bought me a three dollar cookie and a five dollar vodka/cranberry drink. It lightened me up quite a bit. Thank goodness he has enough man skills to ignore me at times. Date night could have gone horribly wrong.
The show was amazing and I had a great time.
Well, except for the scene where Christine sings to her dead father. Yeah, no one warned me. I became a mess, but I snapped out of it by the next scene. I called my sister and yelled at her for not giving me the heads up since she is a Phantom fanatic.
"You didn't KNOW!"
"NO!!!"
"You used to listen to the CDs with me all the TIME! How could you not know?!?"
"I dunno"
"You really don't pay attention do you?"
"um, yeah, not so much."
Oh well, it was still amazing. Next show on my list: Les Miserables. I have seen it, but Ryan hasn't. It is my second favorite. Maybe next time I can be a grown up for the whole night!
-Sara
So there we were, driving to our first Broadway show since our fateful, love-sparking show we saw nearly four years ago, and I am stuck in a bitter mood.
I literally went from a mature thirty-one year old, married with four kids woman, into a jilted, spoiled, Disney princess brat in two seconds flat. I huffed and whimpered as I drove. I hate driving on date night. It's the boy's job. Of course Ryan had offered to drive, but we were pressed for time and he drives like a little old lady. I wasn't handing over the keys to that slow poke.
He tried asking me what was wrong. I kept saying a woman standard, "Nothing, I am just starving." Ryan came up with some great food suggestions, but it wasn't about food anymore. I couldn't have my dinner out, and I was refusing to accept less. However, I did stick to woman etiquette. I lied about what was bugging me. I told him thanks but my stomach wouldn't let me eat. Half true I suppose. He didn't need to know I was in the middle of a stubborn fit. If he was any sort of REAL man, he would KNOW how to fix me without having to ASK me! Duh.
Then he kept making it worse, "We will find you something. You will be fine." I didn't WANT to be fine. Men, sheesh.
At one point I literally said, "I don't know where your new positive take on life is coming from, but it is starting to seriously piss me off!" Wow, yeah, I am glad I was driving and didn't have to see his face. He was probably holding back a chuckle. He always laughs at me when I get pouty. I am sure you can guess how much laughing helps my mood.
Once we got downtown everything took a turn for the better. We found a spot on the street right in front of the theater. We saved eight bucks in parking! Ryan bought me a three dollar cookie and a five dollar vodka/cranberry drink. It lightened me up quite a bit. Thank goodness he has enough man skills to ignore me at times. Date night could have gone horribly wrong.
The show was amazing and I had a great time.
Well, except for the scene where Christine sings to her dead father. Yeah, no one warned me. I became a mess, but I snapped out of it by the next scene. I called my sister and yelled at her for not giving me the heads up since she is a Phantom fanatic.
"You didn't KNOW!"
"NO!!!"
"You used to listen to the CDs with me all the TIME! How could you not know?!?"
"I dunno"
"You really don't pay attention do you?"
"um, yeah, not so much."
Oh well, it was still amazing. Next show on my list: Les Miserables. I have seen it, but Ryan hasn't. It is my second favorite. Maybe next time I can be a grown up for the whole night!
-Sara
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Thanks Babe! I Love You Too!
Husbands drive me nuts when they are trying to be helpful. I was sick on Saturday. He was very thoughtful and sent me to take a four hour nap. That part was wonderful. In the meantime, my mother called to have my older son come spend the night. I wake up to find him gone. No problem yet.
The next morning, however, I meet up with her at church. My son is wearing extremely worn jeans and a t-shirt two sizes too big. Turns out my lovely husband let him pack his own bag for the overnight. Thank goodness he brought a toothbrush! I had to listen to my mother mention, "I think it is great that you are going to the gym every other day now, but don't you think you should make laundry a priority? He said he couldn't find any clean clothes."
Mortified. That boy had clean clothes. Sheesh!
Oh, and while I am on a husband rant. He needs to stop telling people I am going back to work for goofy reasons. He told one set of people I got a job so I can get a new minivan that has seats which turn to face the rear. Yes, I would love one of those, but I am happy with my current paid off van thank you very much.
He told another set of people that I am getting a job because I am turning into my mother. Which to him means I want gobs of money for shopping. LMAO!!! While it is true I would LOVE to have extra money so I don't have to say, "honey . . ." everytime there is a craft sale, in reality I spend less money on shopping than any other woman I know. What is he talking about?
Tonight I mentioned to my mother-in-law that my younger daughter is signed up for the 2008-2009 school year for half day preschool. Ryan made an off the cuff comment about, "Well, this is assuming she keeps her job and can afford it." UGH!!! Don't make it sound like I need to work. Preschool was in the budget before I talked about this job.
Men - weirdos. I assume it is his way of making conversation with people while keeping our personal stuff private. I should start piping up with some nonsense of my own -
"I have to build up my Just-In-Case-I-Decide-To-Leave-Ryan fund."
"The deal is I work for a year, then I get to conceive twins."
"Ryan is making me pay for my own boob job."
"I'm not really getting a job. It's my cover for the affair."
-Sara
The next morning, however, I meet up with her at church. My son is wearing extremely worn jeans and a t-shirt two sizes too big. Turns out my lovely husband let him pack his own bag for the overnight. Thank goodness he brought a toothbrush! I had to listen to my mother mention, "I think it is great that you are going to the gym every other day now, but don't you think you should make laundry a priority? He said he couldn't find any clean clothes."
Mortified. That boy had clean clothes. Sheesh!
Oh, and while I am on a husband rant. He needs to stop telling people I am going back to work for goofy reasons. He told one set of people I got a job so I can get a new minivan that has seats which turn to face the rear. Yes, I would love one of those, but I am happy with my current paid off van thank you very much.
He told another set of people that I am getting a job because I am turning into my mother. Which to him means I want gobs of money for shopping. LMAO!!! While it is true I would LOVE to have extra money so I don't have to say, "honey . . ." everytime there is a craft sale, in reality I spend less money on shopping than any other woman I know. What is he talking about?
Tonight I mentioned to my mother-in-law that my younger daughter is signed up for the 2008-2009 school year for half day preschool. Ryan made an off the cuff comment about, "Well, this is assuming she keeps her job and can afford it." UGH!!! Don't make it sound like I need to work. Preschool was in the budget before I talked about this job.
Men - weirdos. I assume it is his way of making conversation with people while keeping our personal stuff private. I should start piping up with some nonsense of my own -
"I have to build up my Just-In-Case-I-Decide-To-Leave-Ryan fund."
"The deal is I work for a year, then I get to conceive twins."
"Ryan is making me pay for my own boob job."
"I'm not really getting a job. It's my cover for the affair."
-Sara
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Dads Do it Differently
I can't blog long because I have to get to the store while the baby is napping (don't worry, Ryan is home), but I wanted to drop a line about my frustrations with my oldest daughter.
She has been struggling to get school works done on time. It is irritating for me since these works can't be completed at home as they use Montessori materials to do them. Every week I talk to her about work ethic, learning to work through distractions, how to be less OCD, etc. Yeah, no big changes.
Then RYAN opens the work plan (comes home for parent signatures and keeps track of such items) and says, "unacceptable, get caught up, or you are grounded, stay caught up or no skiing on our Colorado trip," and now she is a working fool.
Not fair!
. . . and why didn't I have him do that six months ago . . .
- Sara
She has been struggling to get school works done on time. It is irritating for me since these works can't be completed at home as they use Montessori materials to do them. Every week I talk to her about work ethic, learning to work through distractions, how to be less OCD, etc. Yeah, no big changes.
Then RYAN opens the work plan (comes home for parent signatures and keeps track of such items) and says, "unacceptable, get caught up, or you are grounded, stay caught up or no skiing on our Colorado trip," and now she is a working fool.
Not fair!
. . . and why didn't I have him do that six months ago . . .
- Sara
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Sarcasm Backfired Badly . . . Twice
I haven't talked much about my father's death on the blog. With the first anniversary around the corner I am guessing it is going to start popping up in many of my daily vents. It was the single most shocking moment of my life.
There are many moments of sadness, but I love my friends and my family so much for attaching the hysterical memories throughout the experience. Here was the first one that STILL makes me laugh every time it comes into conversation. I will never live it down.
Let me set the stage.
It was an extremely cold morning in February. My father's plane had gone down a mere twelve hours earlier. Ryan was suppose to be leaving for Germany in a few days, but thankfully the trip was put off for another two weeks. He would be leaving the beginning of March instead. After only an hour and a half of sleep, I was sitting on the couch watching news casts I had recorded. All of them talking about the small plane that had crashed. The victims names hadn't been released yet. Exhausted, but wide awake, I decided to log onto the computer like I did every Saturday morning and talk to the BFFs. I had to tell them soon so they didn't find out second hand. I had tried calling MomBFF at 2AM right after I heard the news, but she hadn't answered.
The MomBFF works weekends, so I knew I could talk to her for sure. This was our conversation word for word:
Sara: are you there?
JM: you ok?
JM: you called me three times last night and I saw it this morning and it freaked me out
JM: no ones dead are they?
Now, had I been thinking straight, I would have realized that she was being her sarcastic self like usual. Howevah . . . I wasn't. When I read the line "I saw it this morning" I figured she was referring to the news casts about the crash. She was always glued to her internet news. Surely she was putting two and two together about the crash and my phone calls in the middle of the night. So I took her question literal and I answered with the information I had . . .
Sara: plane exploded on impact
JM: what
JM: WHAT
Sara: he's gone
JM: Stop it
On my end, I really thought I was doing a good job of breaking it to her. I was just glad she knew a bit about it before talking to me. I was horribly wrong. From her end, she had a heart attack. Her first impulse was to think I was talking about Ryan. But then she remembered he wasn't on a plane yet, he wasn't leaving for another two weeks. Then she decided I was kidding.
This is where it gets weird. I kept sending her messages. I started venting about no one from the airport calling my MomL to let her know Dad's plane never arrived. It was the protocol my father always assured us would happen if his plane ever went down. But for some reason, she didn't get any of those messages. She was left thinking I was messing with her, and now ignoring her.
She told a coworker that I was a brat for responding with "plane exploded on impact." The coworker was the one who gave her the news that a plane had indeed gone down over night. That is when her second heart attack hit.
She tried to get me to message her again by IMing "Sara!" which I got in the middle of my rant, but she still wasn't getting my long winded responses. Her coworker agreed to cover for her while she ran to my house to check on me.
On my end of things, I was still venting. A few minutes passed and I was beginning to feel bad that she wasn't responding to me.
Sara: say something please, you are starting to make me feel bad cause i know you are over there not knowing what to say
Sara: hello?
Sara: I will bbiaf
As I got off the couch, devastated my friend wasn't talking to me anymore, I noticed her face in my front window. A huge smile spread across my face. I was so relieved she came to talk to me. She bounced through the door, and immediately said, "Oh thank GOD, I thought you were serious!"
Still smiling, I answered, "I was. It was my dad's plane."
Immediately she burst into tears and I had to comfort her. I hugged her and told her it was okay. I later found out it was a gesture and saying I would have to perform over and over in the coming week.
It wasn't that funny at the time, but now, we laugh all the time. "Plane exploded on impact" is quoted heavily around here, mostly poking fun at me. I have to defend myself - I WASN'T THINKING STRAIGHT I AM SORRY!!!
Of course it wasn't as bad as what I pulled on the SingleBFF. I broke it to her way more gently, but gave her a heart attack the next day.
My daughter had her last cheerleading competition the Sunday following my dad's death. I didn't want to break the news to her until afterward. I asked SingleBFF to come with me for support. We woke up at 6 AM to get everything ready and make the 45 minute drive to the competition in Lincoln. We couldn't find her hair bows and SingleBFF reminded me we were going to be late if we didn't hurry.
I was exhausted. I hadn't slept more than five hours in three days. I didn't really CARE if we were late. So I yelled out a phrase that will forever be dear to my heart -
"My dad crashed and BURNED!!! I am allowed to be late!"
BFF was stunned. She just stood there with her mouth hanging open, not knowing what to say or do. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, I said softly, "um, that was suppose to be funny."
"OMG!! Don't DO that to me!" she said, finally breathing again. We both laughed hard. It was the first good laugh I got in three days. Normally I am laughing all day long. I was able to use that as my excuse for a long time with the BFFs. I forgot to call you back? Well my dad crashed and burned, I'm allowed. I was rude because I didn't invite you over? Well C and B.
Finally MomBFF said, "Darling, that was five months ago, you can't USE that excuse anymore."
Oh well, It worked for awhile ;)
- Sara
There are many moments of sadness, but I love my friends and my family so much for attaching the hysterical memories throughout the experience. Here was the first one that STILL makes me laugh every time it comes into conversation. I will never live it down.
Let me set the stage.
It was an extremely cold morning in February. My father's plane had gone down a mere twelve hours earlier. Ryan was suppose to be leaving for Germany in a few days, but thankfully the trip was put off for another two weeks. He would be leaving the beginning of March instead. After only an hour and a half of sleep, I was sitting on the couch watching news casts I had recorded. All of them talking about the small plane that had crashed. The victims names hadn't been released yet. Exhausted, but wide awake, I decided to log onto the computer like I did every Saturday morning and talk to the BFFs. I had to tell them soon so they didn't find out second hand. I had tried calling MomBFF at 2AM right after I heard the news, but she hadn't answered.
The MomBFF works weekends, so I knew I could talk to her for sure. This was our conversation word for word:
Sara: are you there?
JM: you ok?
JM: you called me three times last night and I saw it this morning and it freaked me out
JM: no ones dead are they?
Now, had I been thinking straight, I would have realized that she was being her sarcastic self like usual. Howevah . . . I wasn't. When I read the line "I saw it this morning" I figured she was referring to the news casts about the crash. She was always glued to her internet news. Surely she was putting two and two together about the crash and my phone calls in the middle of the night. So I took her question literal and I answered with the information I had . . .
Sara: plane exploded on impact
JM: what
JM: WHAT
Sara: he's gone
JM: Stop it
On my end, I really thought I was doing a good job of breaking it to her. I was just glad she knew a bit about it before talking to me. I was horribly wrong. From her end, she had a heart attack. Her first impulse was to think I was talking about Ryan. But then she remembered he wasn't on a plane yet, he wasn't leaving for another two weeks. Then she decided I was kidding.
This is where it gets weird. I kept sending her messages. I started venting about no one from the airport calling my MomL to let her know Dad's plane never arrived. It was the protocol my father always assured us would happen if his plane ever went down. But for some reason, she didn't get any of those messages. She was left thinking I was messing with her, and now ignoring her.
She told a coworker that I was a brat for responding with "plane exploded on impact." The coworker was the one who gave her the news that a plane had indeed gone down over night. That is when her second heart attack hit.
She tried to get me to message her again by IMing "Sara!" which I got in the middle of my rant, but she still wasn't getting my long winded responses. Her coworker agreed to cover for her while she ran to my house to check on me.
On my end of things, I was still venting. A few minutes passed and I was beginning to feel bad that she wasn't responding to me.
Sara: say something please, you are starting to make me feel bad cause i know you are over there not knowing what to say
Sara: hello?
Sara: I will bbiaf
As I got off the couch, devastated my friend wasn't talking to me anymore, I noticed her face in my front window. A huge smile spread across my face. I was so relieved she came to talk to me. She bounced through the door, and immediately said, "Oh thank GOD, I thought you were serious!"
Still smiling, I answered, "I was. It was my dad's plane."
Immediately she burst into tears and I had to comfort her. I hugged her and told her it was okay. I later found out it was a gesture and saying I would have to perform over and over in the coming week.
It wasn't that funny at the time, but now, we laugh all the time. "Plane exploded on impact" is quoted heavily around here, mostly poking fun at me. I have to defend myself - I WASN'T THINKING STRAIGHT I AM SORRY!!!
Of course it wasn't as bad as what I pulled on the SingleBFF. I broke it to her way more gently, but gave her a heart attack the next day.
My daughter had her last cheerleading competition the Sunday following my dad's death. I didn't want to break the news to her until afterward. I asked SingleBFF to come with me for support. We woke up at 6 AM to get everything ready and make the 45 minute drive to the competition in Lincoln. We couldn't find her hair bows and SingleBFF reminded me we were going to be late if we didn't hurry.
I was exhausted. I hadn't slept more than five hours in three days. I didn't really CARE if we were late. So I yelled out a phrase that will forever be dear to my heart -
"My dad crashed and BURNED!!! I am allowed to be late!"
BFF was stunned. She just stood there with her mouth hanging open, not knowing what to say or do. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, I said softly, "um, that was suppose to be funny."
"OMG!! Don't DO that to me!" she said, finally breathing again. We both laughed hard. It was the first good laugh I got in three days. Normally I am laughing all day long. I was able to use that as my excuse for a long time with the BFFs. I forgot to call you back? Well my dad crashed and burned, I'm allowed. I was rude because I didn't invite you over? Well C and B.
Finally MomBFF said, "Darling, that was five months ago, you can't USE that excuse anymore."
Oh well, It worked for awhile ;)
- Sara
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
New Shoes Blues
I love my husband with every ounce of my being, and at 16 ounces per pound, that is a massive amount! As much as I love him, he is banned from shoe shopping for the kids. I know you are probably asking, "Sara! Why in the world did you send a man to buy shoes?" That is the best part. I didn't. This sweet man decided to go all by himself.
It must have been sparked by the fact that neither had snow boots. The pink pair were missing, and my son was walking on tip toes to fit in his favorite blue pair. My daughter, who has jumped from a size 1 this summer to a size 3 currently, was also lacking in the tennis shoe area. She was content to wear her black loafers and pink crocks to school. I guess the lack of weather appropriate foot wear drove him insane enough to take action. What he didn't know is I was waiting for the grandmas to help out in this area for Christmas. We put a limit on the toys we are willing to accept into our already crowded playroom. Shoes and boots were a perfect substitute. I guess I forgot to mention this to my husband, but seriously, how many men out there bother to notice what the kids have on their feet?
After a lazy Sunday afternoon he announces he is going to hit the store and the big two should come with him. I stayed at home with the littler pair of kids, who were happy to play with blocks while mommy crocheted. Then I got a phone call.
"Why can't I find size 4 boots?"
I don't blame him for that one. Not too many people know that girls sizes are a bit weird when you hit the size four mark. A size four in girls is the same size as a six in womens. I don't know why, but I know I enjoy being able to say I can fit in a four. As I hung up the phone, the feeling of . . . oh no, what sweet thing has he done now that will end up annoying the crap out of me . . . set into my stomach.
Trust me, I know how bratty I am acting. Some women would love to have a man who goes shopping with the kids, but I am a control freak, and to be honest, a completely spoiled rotten brat. I admit it. I do my best to act splendidly happy when the three of them come home to surprise me with stange and unusual gifts. My favorite is the 12" blue ceramic tree frog they knew I would love. And I do, but do you really want those three individuals in charge of daily foot wear?
The kids came home excited to show me their new buys. I tried very hard not to look annoyed.
1 - Light up tennis shoes, do I have to say more? They drive me nuts. Okay, it is slightly adorable to watch a two year old stomping around bent over as they admire their pretty shoes, but on a six year old, not so cute.
2 - White tennis shoes, shoot me now. These are going to look ragged after a week. I suppose some 7 year old girls could handle all white tennis shoes, but my daughter runs the mud puddles with the best of them.
3 - White boots. Can't complain too much here. They were only $4.00 on clearance. Don't they make black ones anymore?
4 - Not quite sized right. Each shoe is nearly two fingers too big. I understand kids grow fast, but they are going to wear them out before they fit.
Of course I didn't complain, and I won't take them back. He was proud of himself and said it made him feel like a "real dad" doing an important errand with the kids. I will admit I should give up some control in the kid department. Even though I am being a good mom taking care of everything, I am robbing him of having his own parent experiences. Maybe I will let go of some of them . . . but from now on, not shoes . . .
- Sara
It must have been sparked by the fact that neither had snow boots. The pink pair were missing, and my son was walking on tip toes to fit in his favorite blue pair. My daughter, who has jumped from a size 1 this summer to a size 3 currently, was also lacking in the tennis shoe area. She was content to wear her black loafers and pink crocks to school. I guess the lack of weather appropriate foot wear drove him insane enough to take action. What he didn't know is I was waiting for the grandmas to help out in this area for Christmas. We put a limit on the toys we are willing to accept into our already crowded playroom. Shoes and boots were a perfect substitute. I guess I forgot to mention this to my husband, but seriously, how many men out there bother to notice what the kids have on their feet?
After a lazy Sunday afternoon he announces he is going to hit the store and the big two should come with him. I stayed at home with the littler pair of kids, who were happy to play with blocks while mommy crocheted. Then I got a phone call.
"Why can't I find size 4 boots?"
I don't blame him for that one. Not too many people know that girls sizes are a bit weird when you hit the size four mark. A size four in girls is the same size as a six in womens. I don't know why, but I know I enjoy being able to say I can fit in a four. As I hung up the phone, the feeling of . . . oh no, what sweet thing has he done now that will end up annoying the crap out of me . . . set into my stomach.
Trust me, I know how bratty I am acting. Some women would love to have a man who goes shopping with the kids, but I am a control freak, and to be honest, a completely spoiled rotten brat. I admit it. I do my best to act splendidly happy when the three of them come home to surprise me with stange and unusual gifts. My favorite is the 12" blue ceramic tree frog they knew I would love. And I do, but do you really want those three individuals in charge of daily foot wear?
The kids came home excited to show me their new buys. I tried very hard not to look annoyed.
1 - Light up tennis shoes, do I have to say more? They drive me nuts. Okay, it is slightly adorable to watch a two year old stomping around bent over as they admire their pretty shoes, but on a six year old, not so cute.
2 - White tennis shoes, shoot me now. These are going to look ragged after a week. I suppose some 7 year old girls could handle all white tennis shoes, but my daughter runs the mud puddles with the best of them.
3 - White boots. Can't complain too much here. They were only $4.00 on clearance. Don't they make black ones anymore?
4 - Not quite sized right. Each shoe is nearly two fingers too big. I understand kids grow fast, but they are going to wear them out before they fit.
Of course I didn't complain, and I won't take them back. He was proud of himself and said it made him feel like a "real dad" doing an important errand with the kids. I will admit I should give up some control in the kid department. Even though I am being a good mom taking care of everything, I am robbing him of having his own parent experiences. Maybe I will let go of some of them . . . but from now on, not shoes . . .
- Sara
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Father Knows Best?
My oldest figured it out the hard way. Let me start by explaining our neighborhood.
I love my neighborhood. It was built about thirty years ago and the majority of the residents are original owners. However, there are a handful of houses that were sold in the past five years to younger families. With the neighborhood in a transitional state, it makes for a quiet neighborhood with some playmates around. On our street there are four households that ride bikes and play together. The ages are 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 8, 7, 6, 2, and 1. As a number geek, I think it is awesome. As the mother of the bottom four, it causes challenges.
My seven year old daughter plays with the only other girl - the twelve year old. For the most part, she is wonderful. She does a great job of watching out for my daughter and only picks on her on the days she is annoying. Recently, a boy from the next neighborhood over has been joining the two girls to play. He is very sweet and polite. Mostly quiet, I haven't figured out for sure he is dating the 12 year old, but they are having fun hanging out.
I had the opportunity to meet his mother on Halloween. It was the cutest thing ever. My daughter begged to go trick or treating with the neighbors. Since I usually go with my BFF #2 and her three kids, this posed a dilemma. When Halloween arrived, and my youngest two were still fussy from immunizations, I decided to go in our neighborhood (and I was super excited the BFF came over too!). I was surprised to see another mother. She had come because her son had announced he was trick or treating in our neighborhood with "some new friends." She imagined a group of young teenagers out to pick on little kids and cause trouble. She was SHOCKED to arrive and find the "friends" were ages 6-12. That had to have been a shining mommy moment for her.
But ANYWAY, this young man has a trick bicycle. It is the kind with pegs sticking out the middle of each wheel for optimum trick capabilities. Since my neighbor girl rides on these pegs, my daughter thought she was allowed. Ryan nipped that in the bud by explaining bikes are made for one person, not two. For an entire week my child BEGGED to ride on these pegs. We stood our ground, but she was persistent. Then yesterday happened - she came inside bawling with her hand to her mouth.
"Is my nose broke?!?!?!" Ever since she broke her arm two summers ago, the first thing we hear - is it broken?
It wasn't broken, but her upper lip was so fat she looked like Donald Duck! She explained SHE wasn't riding on the pegs. The teens were trying so hard to include her, that they put a set of pegs on HER bike. The extra weight of the neighbor girl was enough to cause an accident. Through my daughters tears I explained why parents make rules. Even though you don't understand why, they are there to keep you safe.
I don't think she will be messing with pegs for a while now! Man, sometimes they just have to learn the hard way.
- Sara
I love my neighborhood. It was built about thirty years ago and the majority of the residents are original owners. However, there are a handful of houses that were sold in the past five years to younger families. With the neighborhood in a transitional state, it makes for a quiet neighborhood with some playmates around. On our street there are four households that ride bikes and play together. The ages are 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 8, 7, 6, 2, and 1. As a number geek, I think it is awesome. As the mother of the bottom four, it causes challenges.
My seven year old daughter plays with the only other girl - the twelve year old. For the most part, she is wonderful. She does a great job of watching out for my daughter and only picks on her on the days she is annoying. Recently, a boy from the next neighborhood over has been joining the two girls to play. He is very sweet and polite. Mostly quiet, I haven't figured out for sure he is dating the 12 year old, but they are having fun hanging out.
I had the opportunity to meet his mother on Halloween. It was the cutest thing ever. My daughter begged to go trick or treating with the neighbors. Since I usually go with my BFF #2 and her three kids, this posed a dilemma. When Halloween arrived, and my youngest two were still fussy from immunizations, I decided to go in our neighborhood (and I was super excited the BFF came over too!). I was surprised to see another mother. She had come because her son had announced he was trick or treating in our neighborhood with "some new friends." She imagined a group of young teenagers out to pick on little kids and cause trouble. She was SHOCKED to arrive and find the "friends" were ages 6-12. That had to have been a shining mommy moment for her.
But ANYWAY, this young man has a trick bicycle. It is the kind with pegs sticking out the middle of each wheel for optimum trick capabilities. Since my neighbor girl rides on these pegs, my daughter thought she was allowed. Ryan nipped that in the bud by explaining bikes are made for one person, not two. For an entire week my child BEGGED to ride on these pegs. We stood our ground, but she was persistent. Then yesterday happened - she came inside bawling with her hand to her mouth.
"Is my nose broke?!?!?!" Ever since she broke her arm two summers ago, the first thing we hear - is it broken?
It wasn't broken, but her upper lip was so fat she looked like Donald Duck! She explained SHE wasn't riding on the pegs. The teens were trying so hard to include her, that they put a set of pegs on HER bike. The extra weight of the neighbor girl was enough to cause an accident. Through my daughters tears I explained why parents make rules. Even though you don't understand why, they are there to keep you safe.
I don't think she will be messing with pegs for a while now! Man, sometimes they just have to learn the hard way.
- Sara
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