Yup, I said it. Celiac disease sucks. Again, I do NOT have a horridly debilitating disease. I don't have cancer or MS or lupus or COPD. But, still, I just want to whine for a while. Celiac disease sucks.
See, you really can't eat anything. If you have gluten sensitivity--which means you and gluten are not good friends--then you really shouldn't eat gluten. You should definitely not eat bread or pasta or cereal or crackers. You can't have regular pizza crust. But, if a crumb or two drop on your food, say, you'd still be okay. Maybe a bit "tooty" (my mom's word and I love it), but okay.
If you have celiac disease, well, you need to avoid gluten like it is poison. Actually, if you have celiac disease, gluten is poison to you. The problem is, there is not this recognized problem, like there is with other allergies, like peanuts. Honestly, peanuts and shellfish are the only allergies I know of that EVERYBODY knows about. If you say you have a nut allergy, people are super-duper careful about touching your food. I have friends whose children have dairy allergies the same way, and I feel so bad for them, first because they are kids and second because I don't think many people realize you can have a dairy ALLERGY. So, like not having MS, I don't have the kind of allergy where I will swell up and die immediately. And, that's nice.
However, celiac disease (and, therefore gluten) does kill you. It just takes its time. It wears my small colon down and creates holes where toxins leak into my system and makes my anti-bodies attack my own body parts. So, it would be nice if people took my food and disease as seriously as they do a peanut allergy. They just don't.
I get it. I mean, I don't know anything about sooooo many allergies, illnesses, and diseases. Until it comes to you, it's not something you need to know about. But, man, it's frustrating. For instance, did you know there's an allowable amount of gluten in foods that the FDA says, "Sure, go ahead and write 'Gluten Free' on there anyway!"? What kind of crap is that? The FDA would never let a "little bit" of shellfish be in something! And shellfish is not something that you'd add to a food. It doesn't hold stuff together or thicken it or act as an agent for distilling vinegar or Vitamin D.
Gluten, however, is in EVERYTHING. I'm serious. EVERYTHING. It's in ketchup, Simply Lemonade, gum, seasoning salt, cheese, lunch meat, prepared fruits (like apple slices), chips, candy, flavored beverages (thank God it's not in Pepsi), the list goes on.
And let's not forget the stuff that my body THINKS is gluten. Oh yeah, there's that, too. There's stuff called carrageenan, that we Celiacs call "gluten of the sea". It is actually a sea weed, and it's put in non-dairy things in lieu of gluten. You know, because most Celiacs also have a dairy intolerance of some kind (I do. It's not lactose, though, because lactose free stuff has the same effect on me as dairy with lactose. Dairy and I have regretfully had to end our relationship.) So, companies are trying to be sensitive to gluten problems when they make non-dairy items (like sour "cream", almond milk "ice cream", "cheese", coffee "creamers", Cool Whip), and they add carrageenan to hold everything together. Unfortunately, they may as well add a whole piece of bread, because my body thinks it's the same stuff. So, no non-dairy items, either. My body thinks the same of soy, MSG, and artificial sweeteners. "What?" my body says. "That's not gluten? Are you sure? I'm going to freak out and make you sick anyway." Sucks.
Then, there's the crumb issue. Again, I don't picture people dropping a little piece of shellfish on someone's salad or letting bits of peanuts be on the counter when they're cutting up someone's meal. No one would spread peanut oil on a grill and then serve someone that food saying, "Oh, a little bit won't hurt you." But, I get that all the time. ALL THE TIME. "Oh, a little bit won't hurt you, will it?" Yup.
The other day, I went to a very trusted restaurant with Eric. It's one of the few places in Northern Michigan I'm willing to go, and that's because they MAKE all of their own food. I've eaten this exact same meal a dozen times and not gotten sick. However, the other day, I ordered my meal, and they put seasoning on my french fries. They baked them (because if my fries are fried in oil that something with gluten--like chicken tenders or onion rings--have been friend in, I get sick), but then they put seasoning on them. Now, most places I don't even order fries, because the fries come to the restaurant frozen with a coating on them (yup, you guessed it--gluten). But, this place cuts their own fries and is willing to bake them for me, instead of frying them. So, like I said, they baked them, but, unfortunately, they must have thought they'd be tasteless, so they seasoned them. I didn't even eat one. I asked the waitress if the fries were seasoned. All those things did was sit on the plate with my pulled pork. I DIDN'T EVEN EAT ONE. I moved my pulled pork to a new plate, but it was too late. Half an hour after eating, I got sick at Meijer. So stupid.
So, please, please don't be offended when I won't eat your food. Because maybe you didn't wash your hands well enough or maybe there was a crumb on the counter or maybe the knife you used had residual gluten from a previous meal that didn't quite get washed off in the dishwasher. I seriously have to be that careful. Don't be offended. Even my mother, bless her sweet heart, tries to get me to eat food that doesn't come from my house. Ummm, nope. Not doing it. Unless my husband made the food, I'm not eating it (we all know he's the excellent chef and I'm just, uh, so-so). I won't even eat fruit salad or cut up cucumber or chips. I'm just not eating your food. It's nothing personal. It's just that, well, Celiac sucks. And I'm not taking the risk anymore.
I am a wife, mother of three, elementary teacher, daughter, and friend. I have been a writer for a long time, now I'm just willing to let people be the readers!
Sunday, June 26, 2016
Monday, June 20, 2016
The Born Loser
I have been thinking about looking into making a reality TV show about our life, or my life, specifically. I think I would call it "The Born Loser." It would cover all the dumb decisions I make that flop, and then I wouldn't have to blog about them. Okay, yes, this is a bit of a pity party, but wait 'til you see the list.
1. The Honeymoon: Eric told me he could get married and attend a honeymoon during the span of one week in July in 2005 (he was taking on-line classes for his master's degree; it wasn't that he was being a jerk). So, I scheduled our tiny wedding and made the plans for our honeymoon. We are woodsy people, so I decided we would go even further "up north" (since we live in the place most people refer to as "up north"). This may seem hard to imagine now, but there wasn't a lot one could do on-line then. So, I used a yahoo search and found what I thought was an adorable cabin on a small lake, which would include the use of a rowboat, bicycles, kayaks, and provided breakfast. There was a lake view out what I thought was the front window, and it looked perfect. So, we drove to Munising, MI in the dark after our wedding... And found out that we were staying above someone's garage. And the "lake" (pond) view was out the side where the steps were coming up. And no person in his/her right mind would use the rowboat or the bicycles or the kayaks because the pond/lake was nasty and the black flies were so horrid they would have carried us away. Operation Honeymoon: fail.
2. The Dollhouse: For Christmas when Emma was in kindergarten, I decided we should get her an elaborate dollhouse. Again, I used the then-limited internet, and found a beautiful, three story, spiral staircased, gingerbread gabled dollhouse. On-line, it was exquisite. In real life, it had about forty parts. On Christmas Eve, Eric and I read and reread and reread the directions, and finally figured the bugger out. We covered it in paper and hid it in our bedroom, so we could slide it out as the finishing touch on a perfect Christmas. Later that day, we would go to Saginaw, where Eric's family had purchased furniture for the dollhouse as Emma's gifts. It would be perfect. So, we had opened stockings, eaten breakfast, opened all our gifts and then, finally, slid out the giant present. "Huuuuuuh," Emma gasped, "a shelf for my nutcrackers!" My stomach hit the dirt. When she opened it, bless her five-year-old heart, Em tried to feign interest. In reality, she never once liked that $150 thing. It clogged up a whole wall of her bedroom and then sat in our basement for years, collecting dust and hoping some child would come along who actually liked dolls. Sometimes Becca plays with it now, but it was never the fabulous, hours of enjoyment I'd hoped it would be. Operation dollhouse: fail.
3. The Swingset: Poor Emma has been the recipient of more than one of my own, personal childhood dreams (see "The Dollhouse"). When she turned six, we had recently purchased a new home with a huge yard, which had the world's greatest spot for a swingset. So, I begged and pleaded and pouted and we ordered the swingset. What should have taken a few hours took my dad, Eric and me several weekends to construct. When we were done, there was a gorgeous wooden swingset with a single swing, a slide, a double swing, a "fort" and a sandbox. It was wonderful. Emma hated it. Again, we have photos of her perched atop the slide with that same teeth-gritted "smile" that she wore when she unwrapped her dollhouse. She dutifully went in the swings two or three times, and then the poor thing slowly rotted as it waited for someone to come play. This time, it was about $500, and I still had not learned my lesson. The best laid plans of Laura Hall do not turn out. Operation Swingset: fail.
4. The Scy-Phone: This one was just dumb from the beginning. If you don't know about my cheapness, you don't know me. It is legendary. I will hunt for the deal, nevermind the "quality". If I think I can get it cheaper, look out. So, I wanted to be able to send photos and videos via text. But, I didn't want (and neither did Eric) to sign up for an iPhone. This was before everyone and their 11-year-old child had one. So, I started researching phones on Amazon with cameras that could film video. It wasn't before Amazon, but it was before every phone had a camera. I found this great deal. Seriously, I don't learn my lesson on stuff. It was called a Scy-Phone, and came from (please don't tell my grandmother, may she rest in peace) China. Yes, I said China. So, um, when it came...it was all in Chinese. And the games were like iPhone games, but Chinese (think of candy crush with sushi). And it worked for abooooooouuuuuut... three days. Okay, maybe three weeks. Then, it just... didn't. Believe it or not, I was genuinely shocked. I couldn't understand why a phone from China that cost one-fifteenth the price of a real iPhone might be a piece of crap. Operation Video Camera Phone: fail.
5. The Rock Speakers: This one was going to be great. I mean really, really great. Eric always thinks of fantastic presents that people don't even know they want until they open them. I always try to find something good, but usually end up with socks and underwear. But this time, this time, the present was going to be great. For only about $150, I ordered two outdoor, wireless, weatherproof speakers which would look like rocks. Eric could put them outside by the patio or near the deck, put his iPhone on the holder in the house, and enjoy music outside!! Yay! When he opened them, I think Eric actually was pleased. He read the materials, charged the speakers, put them outside, and looked forward to using them. Except, they sucked. They wouldn't hold a charge. And they would stop playing for no reason. And they weren't really weatherproof. Eric even contacted the company and had them send out new ones. Nope, they still sucked. So, now we have two fake rocks sitting on the desk in Eric's office. Almost like they're sticking their rock tongues out at me. Rock Speakers: fail.
6. The Lockers: By now, you're starting to think I'm making this stuff up, but it's real. Ask my family, they're here for all of it. Speaking of my family, number six was for them. Our house is huge and beautiful, but does not have a good area for boots and shoes and backpacks and coats and mittens and gloves... especially for five people, three of whom are CHILDREN. We tried hooks and baskets and other ideas in the house, but we really needed lockers. Every few months or so, I would rip a page out of a magazine and say to Eric, "What do you think of these?" He would nod, but I think he knew I know absolutely zippo about building, so he was not concerned. Well, one day, I jumped. My parents had taken the kids for the night (we were supposed to be spending a relaxing night at their cabin on the river) and I said, "Let's go buy those big locker things I saw at Lowe's." Eric and I spent the next Lord Knows How Many hours putting together these white laminate closets. We didn't put the doors on, and we installed rods in two spots. When we were done, there were four "lockers" in our garage. Yay, right? Wrong. The Littles couldn't use hangers, so they would just toss their coats on the ground in front of their lockers. Somehow, it was always too hard for everybody to put their shoes in their lockers, so the shoes would all end up in a pile in front of the steps (adjacent to the pile of coats). And the mice. Did I mention the lockers are in the garage? Yes, the garage. So, wild animals like mice and chipmunks greatly appreciate the toasty pockets and nesty shoe holes. We have all put on a pair of shoes or boots only to whip them off and pour out acorns, sunflower seeds, and tiny turds. Also, any type of fleece is seen as something to chew and then use as fluff in their nests, so my elegant, red Land's End coat now has a "rippled" bottom (half-chewed). Lockers: fail.
7. The Toys: I have tried many different strategies here, and have yet to not fail. When we first bought the house, we made a room downstairs the "playroom". Emma was afraid to go down and use it. Then, I used those cute fabric baskets to hold everyone's toys, with little labels on them. Nope. I took all the clothes out of the closet and put garage-type racks inside the closet with containers for each type of toy (Ninja Turtles, puzzles, babies, etc.). Nope. They never played with them. I put the dressers inside the closet and moved the toys/racks out into their bedrooms, so they could SEE all their toys. They just took everything out and never put it away. I installed wire racks in the closet and put all of their toys in clear bins so they could see what was inside the bins. They stack the bins outside the closet and don't put them on the shelves. I'm thinking trash bag is my next step. Organize Toys: fail.
8. The Shoe Rack: At least this one was cheap. I got sick of the shoes, so I went out and bought a 9-tiered shoe rack. It was plastic. And cheap. But it was supposed to hold a ton of shoes! So, I put it together, put all the shoes on it, and smiled happily... for a week. Then, it began to come apart at the spots where one shelf slid into another with a tab. I used duck tape. Then, it started falling over when people put their shoes on it. I picked up all the shoes and put it against a wall. Finally, it completely (I am not making this up) bent in half. The top of the rack was on the floor. I gave up. Shoe Rack: fail.
9. The Pool: This is the most recent, and the real reason I am thinking about all of these. Seriously, I'm not sure why I try. I always get this Better Homes and Gardens dream-scene in my head and I honestly believe it will happen that way. I had seen my friend's kids playing in the "easy set" pool the summer before (via Facebook). I looked up every kind of easy set pool and read reviews. Eric got permission from our "association" to have a blow up pool on our property. I picked my dream pool, and then got an email from work that I was getting a check for being a mentor at work! Pool--paid for!! So, I ordered the dumb thing. My friend has her pool on her cement pad, so I thought, "Well, perfect! We'll put that puppy right outside our garage!" Except, our cement pad is not a patio--it is a driveway. It is not a flat surface for a picnic table or chairs--it is a slight incline for draining rainwater. Juuuuuuuuust enough of an incline that the pool would not even fill up past the filter hook-ups, and was all pushing against one side. So, I put some blankets under one side. Nope. Then I drained the whole damn thing and started over. I used the foam squares I use at school for students to sit on to build a little ramp going the opposite direction of the incline. Made a little difference. Enough of a difference that I filled the stupid thing up again. NOT enough of a difference that we could use the filter or not worry about the side ripping. So, I am draining again. Except this time, it was not enough of an incline to even drain it. Seriously, I can't win. Yesterday, I went all around our huge yard, looking for mostly level spots. We own close to four acres, have more than an acre of yard, I figured there had to be something. And there is! Right on top of a sprinkler head. Blow Up "Easy Set" Pool: fail.
So, I give. I'm done with projects. There won't be a number ten (though I'm sure I could have thought of one). Apparently, karma doesn't work with projects. Having the best intentions does not equal the best results. As Cathy the cartoon character would say, "Aack!"
Now I've gotta go figure out how to put a 15X48 pool back inside a box...
1. The Honeymoon: Eric told me he could get married and attend a honeymoon during the span of one week in July in 2005 (he was taking on-line classes for his master's degree; it wasn't that he was being a jerk). So, I scheduled our tiny wedding and made the plans for our honeymoon. We are woodsy people, so I decided we would go even further "up north" (since we live in the place most people refer to as "up north"). This may seem hard to imagine now, but there wasn't a lot one could do on-line then. So, I used a yahoo search and found what I thought was an adorable cabin on a small lake, which would include the use of a rowboat, bicycles, kayaks, and provided breakfast. There was a lake view out what I thought was the front window, and it looked perfect. So, we drove to Munising, MI in the dark after our wedding... And found out that we were staying above someone's garage. And the "lake" (pond) view was out the side where the steps were coming up. And no person in his/her right mind would use the rowboat or the bicycles or the kayaks because the pond/lake was nasty and the black flies were so horrid they would have carried us away. Operation Honeymoon: fail.
2. The Dollhouse: For Christmas when Emma was in kindergarten, I decided we should get her an elaborate dollhouse. Again, I used the then-limited internet, and found a beautiful, three story, spiral staircased, gingerbread gabled dollhouse. On-line, it was exquisite. In real life, it had about forty parts. On Christmas Eve, Eric and I read and reread and reread the directions, and finally figured the bugger out. We covered it in paper and hid it in our bedroom, so we could slide it out as the finishing touch on a perfect Christmas. Later that day, we would go to Saginaw, where Eric's family had purchased furniture for the dollhouse as Emma's gifts. It would be perfect. So, we had opened stockings, eaten breakfast, opened all our gifts and then, finally, slid out the giant present. "Huuuuuuh," Emma gasped, "a shelf for my nutcrackers!" My stomach hit the dirt. When she opened it, bless her five-year-old heart, Em tried to feign interest. In reality, she never once liked that $150 thing. It clogged up a whole wall of her bedroom and then sat in our basement for years, collecting dust and hoping some child would come along who actually liked dolls. Sometimes Becca plays with it now, but it was never the fabulous, hours of enjoyment I'd hoped it would be. Operation dollhouse: fail.
3. The Swingset: Poor Emma has been the recipient of more than one of my own, personal childhood dreams (see "The Dollhouse"). When she turned six, we had recently purchased a new home with a huge yard, which had the world's greatest spot for a swingset. So, I begged and pleaded and pouted and we ordered the swingset. What should have taken a few hours took my dad, Eric and me several weekends to construct. When we were done, there was a gorgeous wooden swingset with a single swing, a slide, a double swing, a "fort" and a sandbox. It was wonderful. Emma hated it. Again, we have photos of her perched atop the slide with that same teeth-gritted "smile" that she wore when she unwrapped her dollhouse. She dutifully went in the swings two or three times, and then the poor thing slowly rotted as it waited for someone to come play. This time, it was about $500, and I still had not learned my lesson. The best laid plans of Laura Hall do not turn out. Operation Swingset: fail.
4. The Scy-Phone: This one was just dumb from the beginning. If you don't know about my cheapness, you don't know me. It is legendary. I will hunt for the deal, nevermind the "quality". If I think I can get it cheaper, look out. So, I wanted to be able to send photos and videos via text. But, I didn't want (and neither did Eric) to sign up for an iPhone. This was before everyone and their 11-year-old child had one. So, I started researching phones on Amazon with cameras that could film video. It wasn't before Amazon, but it was before every phone had a camera. I found this great deal. Seriously, I don't learn my lesson on stuff. It was called a Scy-Phone, and came from (please don't tell my grandmother, may she rest in peace) China. Yes, I said China. So, um, when it came...it was all in Chinese. And the games were like iPhone games, but Chinese (think of candy crush with sushi). And it worked for abooooooouuuuuut... three days. Okay, maybe three weeks. Then, it just... didn't. Believe it or not, I was genuinely shocked. I couldn't understand why a phone from China that cost one-fifteenth the price of a real iPhone might be a piece of crap. Operation Video Camera Phone: fail.
5. The Rock Speakers: This one was going to be great. I mean really, really great. Eric always thinks of fantastic presents that people don't even know they want until they open them. I always try to find something good, but usually end up with socks and underwear. But this time, this time, the present was going to be great. For only about $150, I ordered two outdoor, wireless, weatherproof speakers which would look like rocks. Eric could put them outside by the patio or near the deck, put his iPhone on the holder in the house, and enjoy music outside!! Yay! When he opened them, I think Eric actually was pleased. He read the materials, charged the speakers, put them outside, and looked forward to using them. Except, they sucked. They wouldn't hold a charge. And they would stop playing for no reason. And they weren't really weatherproof. Eric even contacted the company and had them send out new ones. Nope, they still sucked. So, now we have two fake rocks sitting on the desk in Eric's office. Almost like they're sticking their rock tongues out at me. Rock Speakers: fail.
6. The Lockers: By now, you're starting to think I'm making this stuff up, but it's real. Ask my family, they're here for all of it. Speaking of my family, number six was for them. Our house is huge and beautiful, but does not have a good area for boots and shoes and backpacks and coats and mittens and gloves... especially for five people, three of whom are CHILDREN. We tried hooks and baskets and other ideas in the house, but we really needed lockers. Every few months or so, I would rip a page out of a magazine and say to Eric, "What do you think of these?" He would nod, but I think he knew I know absolutely zippo about building, so he was not concerned. Well, one day, I jumped. My parents had taken the kids for the night (we were supposed to be spending a relaxing night at their cabin on the river) and I said, "Let's go buy those big locker things I saw at Lowe's." Eric and I spent the next Lord Knows How Many hours putting together these white laminate closets. We didn't put the doors on, and we installed rods in two spots. When we were done, there were four "lockers" in our garage. Yay, right? Wrong. The Littles couldn't use hangers, so they would just toss their coats on the ground in front of their lockers. Somehow, it was always too hard for everybody to put their shoes in their lockers, so the shoes would all end up in a pile in front of the steps (adjacent to the pile of coats). And the mice. Did I mention the lockers are in the garage? Yes, the garage. So, wild animals like mice and chipmunks greatly appreciate the toasty pockets and nesty shoe holes. We have all put on a pair of shoes or boots only to whip them off and pour out acorns, sunflower seeds, and tiny turds. Also, any type of fleece is seen as something to chew and then use as fluff in their nests, so my elegant, red Land's End coat now has a "rippled" bottom (half-chewed). Lockers: fail.
7. The Toys: I have tried many different strategies here, and have yet to not fail. When we first bought the house, we made a room downstairs the "playroom". Emma was afraid to go down and use it. Then, I used those cute fabric baskets to hold everyone's toys, with little labels on them. Nope. I took all the clothes out of the closet and put garage-type racks inside the closet with containers for each type of toy (Ninja Turtles, puzzles, babies, etc.). Nope. They never played with them. I put the dressers inside the closet and moved the toys/racks out into their bedrooms, so they could SEE all their toys. They just took everything out and never put it away. I installed wire racks in the closet and put all of their toys in clear bins so they could see what was inside the bins. They stack the bins outside the closet and don't put them on the shelves. I'm thinking trash bag is my next step. Organize Toys: fail.
8. The Shoe Rack: At least this one was cheap. I got sick of the shoes, so I went out and bought a 9-tiered shoe rack. It was plastic. And cheap. But it was supposed to hold a ton of shoes! So, I put it together, put all the shoes on it, and smiled happily... for a week. Then, it began to come apart at the spots where one shelf slid into another with a tab. I used duck tape. Then, it started falling over when people put their shoes on it. I picked up all the shoes and put it against a wall. Finally, it completely (I am not making this up) bent in half. The top of the rack was on the floor. I gave up. Shoe Rack: fail.
9. The Pool: This is the most recent, and the real reason I am thinking about all of these. Seriously, I'm not sure why I try. I always get this Better Homes and Gardens dream-scene in my head and I honestly believe it will happen that way. I had seen my friend's kids playing in the "easy set" pool the summer before (via Facebook). I looked up every kind of easy set pool and read reviews. Eric got permission from our "association" to have a blow up pool on our property. I picked my dream pool, and then got an email from work that I was getting a check for being a mentor at work! Pool--paid for!! So, I ordered the dumb thing. My friend has her pool on her cement pad, so I thought, "Well, perfect! We'll put that puppy right outside our garage!" Except, our cement pad is not a patio--it is a driveway. It is not a flat surface for a picnic table or chairs--it is a slight incline for draining rainwater. Juuuuuuuuust enough of an incline that the pool would not even fill up past the filter hook-ups, and was all pushing against one side. So, I put some blankets under one side. Nope. Then I drained the whole damn thing and started over. I used the foam squares I use at school for students to sit on to build a little ramp going the opposite direction of the incline. Made a little difference. Enough of a difference that I filled the stupid thing up again. NOT enough of a difference that we could use the filter or not worry about the side ripping. So, I am draining again. Except this time, it was not enough of an incline to even drain it. Seriously, I can't win. Yesterday, I went all around our huge yard, looking for mostly level spots. We own close to four acres, have more than an acre of yard, I figured there had to be something. And there is! Right on top of a sprinkler head. Blow Up "Easy Set" Pool: fail.
So, I give. I'm done with projects. There won't be a number ten (though I'm sure I could have thought of one). Apparently, karma doesn't work with projects. Having the best intentions does not equal the best results. As Cathy the cartoon character would say, "Aack!"
Now I've gotta go figure out how to put a 15X48 pool back inside a box...
Saturday, June 18, 2016
Meijer Incident, 2016
I suppose the first mistake was the chips. I was trying to think of a good bribe, and so I promised The Littles (Ben and Becca) that, if we could get through Meijer without fighting, they could each have one of the small bags of "Lays classic chips" (as Ben says) that I would buy in a package for Ben's lunches. Maybe you're one of those fantastic parents who is able to get through your life without bribery. If you are, please know that I hate you. I, on the other hand, rely on bribery in times of need, and this was definitely one of those times.
Eric and I had a great thing going. We'd decided in January that Ben needed something to DO on Saturdays, so we signed the Littles up for swim lessons in Gaylord. I would go to swim lessons with the kids, and Eric would go to Meijer to get the groceries. We'd create the list Friday night, laying out what we'd have for dinner each night, planning lunches, trying to get as many of the essentials as possible on the trip. It was particularly great, because Eric is a quick shopper. In contrast, I take fooooorrrreeeeever, because I have to compare the prices of the three different options of cumin: This one is .75oz for $2.59, but this one is .95oz for $3.15. Hhmmm. Yup, I'm that ridiculous. I get out my iPhone, calculate the cents per oz. Literally, the CENTS PER OUNCE. And that's just one stupid item. Thankfully, Eric looks at the list, reads "cumin," grabs a container of Meijer Naturals cumin, and moves along. So, not only do we get to kill two birds with one stone--wear out Ben, get the groceries--but it's done in a timely manner.
Unfortunately, two weeks ago, Eric had a meeting. And our cousins were coming to visit. And I was going to a Tiger game with "the girls" on Sunday. So, we neeeeeded groceries, and Eric couldn't do it. We really should have just bitten the bullet and had one of us go to our local grocery store. But, Ben has his food issues, I have my food issues, we're just not easy to shop for. So, after swim lessons, I headed to Meijer. With Ben. And Becca. Did I mention it was after swim lessons? And that Ben was with me? And Becca? Not my best choice.
So, I took an already swum-out, exhausted (because not only do Ben, Becca and I have food issues, but we all also have sleep issues--we're working on it) and starving (yup, lunchtime) Ben and Becca to Meijer with the promise that, if there was not any fighting, we would have chips.
We walked into the store with the best of intentions. I asked if they wanted to walk or ride. Ben wanted to walk, Becca wanted to ride. We saw one of those gigantic, semi-truck carts with the seat for big kids. So, Ben decided he'd sit next to Bec, and we were on our way. Within--literally--seconds, it began.
Ben laid his arm along the back of the seat. He was not even touching Becca, just relaxing his arm.
Becca: He has his aahhm on me! I don't want his aahhm on me!
Me: He's not touching you. His arm is on the back of the seat. Let it go, girl.
Becca: I don't wannnn his aahhm dere! Take it off, Ben! (began to shriek) Take it off! Take it off!
Me: (maintained calm) Bec, his arm is not touching you. At this point, YOU are causing a problem. You are yelling. You need to stop yelling. Take some breaths.
Becca: (ignored me and continued with the tirade) Take it off! You (scratched Ben's arm) get (scratch) your (scratch) arm (grab) OFF!
Well, I couldn't let the scratching and grabbing go. To his credit, Ben sat there with a shit-eating grin on his face, arm casually slung along the back of the seat, and watched Becca melt. I tried using the quiet, close-to-your-face, whisper-between-my-gritted-teeth voice to convince Becca to take some breaths (In your nose, out your mouth. Watch, like this!), but she was too far gone. So, I unbuckled her, stuck her in the middle of the grocery part of the cart, and continued on my merry way.
For the rest of the grocery trip, I am sad to report, Becca screamed. At the top of her freaking lungs. In a shrill tone. Without pausing for a breath. I want chips. I want chips. I want chips. Stupid chips.
As we shopped, I got several encouraging nods, thumbs-up signs, a few "Good job, Momma"s, and even one hug from other moms, who had clearly "been there". I have done the same to other mothers as they have tried to make it through grocery stores, hoping to be unseen. I'm glad, now, that I have given these bits of encouragement because, I promise you, I certainly appreciated them that day. But, as we finally left the store, just before we reached the door, one man undermined every positive comment I got that day. As our cart passed this man's check-out lane, he stepped into our path, pointed his finger into my screaming daughter's face. and condescended, "Young lady, every single person in this store is happy that you are finally leaving. I hope you know that."
I'm not sure I have ever been more surprised or angry in my life. I did not know what to say. If the man had said something to me, the ADULT who was really responsible for dragging this child through the store, it would have been one thing. But to reprimand my daughter--a CHILD--that was something different all together. I continued my cart out of the store, loaded my groceries, strapped in my kids, and, finally, thought of what I should have said.
I should have stopped the cart, turned to the man, and said, "Yes, I bet you are happy. I know she's made a lot of noise, and probably made your shopping trip unpleasant. But she is FIVE, and clearly tired and hungry. You, on the other hand, are a GROWN ASS MAN, and you should know better."
Actually, I should have known better. My kids were exhausted, and so was I. I never should have taken them to the grocery store that day. It was lunch time, and they were probably 'starving'. I probably should have at least tried to feed them first, not promise them food afterward. When we got home, and she had calmed down, I said to Becca, "You know, honey, you needed to take some breaths. Remember how we practiced?" and she said, "But, Momma, I couldn't." I believe her. If I had been thinking about my daughter, not my groceries, I would have realized that she was tired, hungry, five, and overstressed. I'm not saying I should have given her the chips. But, I do believe I should have pulled the cart over in the back, by the goldfish, taken her out, and cuddled her until she could calm down. I still shouldn't have let her have the chips, but I should have dealt with her tantrum, because she was beyond being able to deal with it herself.
Sixteen years into this parenting thing, decades of child development and education classes, I am still figuring it out as I go. Next time, I hope to do it better. That's all I can plan. Next time. I can definitely tell you this: I won't be promising anybody any chips any time soon.
Eric and I had a great thing going. We'd decided in January that Ben needed something to DO on Saturdays, so we signed the Littles up for swim lessons in Gaylord. I would go to swim lessons with the kids, and Eric would go to Meijer to get the groceries. We'd create the list Friday night, laying out what we'd have for dinner each night, planning lunches, trying to get as many of the essentials as possible on the trip. It was particularly great, because Eric is a quick shopper. In contrast, I take fooooorrrreeeeever, because I have to compare the prices of the three different options of cumin: This one is .75oz for $2.59, but this one is .95oz for $3.15. Hhmmm. Yup, I'm that ridiculous. I get out my iPhone, calculate the cents per oz. Literally, the CENTS PER OUNCE. And that's just one stupid item. Thankfully, Eric looks at the list, reads "cumin," grabs a container of Meijer Naturals cumin, and moves along. So, not only do we get to kill two birds with one stone--wear out Ben, get the groceries--but it's done in a timely manner.
Unfortunately, two weeks ago, Eric had a meeting. And our cousins were coming to visit. And I was going to a Tiger game with "the girls" on Sunday. So, we neeeeeded groceries, and Eric couldn't do it. We really should have just bitten the bullet and had one of us go to our local grocery store. But, Ben has his food issues, I have my food issues, we're just not easy to shop for. So, after swim lessons, I headed to Meijer. With Ben. And Becca. Did I mention it was after swim lessons? And that Ben was with me? And Becca? Not my best choice.
So, I took an already swum-out, exhausted (because not only do Ben, Becca and I have food issues, but we all also have sleep issues--we're working on it) and starving (yup, lunchtime) Ben and Becca to Meijer with the promise that, if there was not any fighting, we would have chips.
We walked into the store with the best of intentions. I asked if they wanted to walk or ride. Ben wanted to walk, Becca wanted to ride. We saw one of those gigantic, semi-truck carts with the seat for big kids. So, Ben decided he'd sit next to Bec, and we were on our way. Within--literally--seconds, it began.
Ben laid his arm along the back of the seat. He was not even touching Becca, just relaxing his arm.
Becca: He has his aahhm on me! I don't want his aahhm on me!
Me: He's not touching you. His arm is on the back of the seat. Let it go, girl.
Becca: I don't wannnn his aahhm dere! Take it off, Ben! (began to shriek) Take it off! Take it off!
Me: (maintained calm) Bec, his arm is not touching you. At this point, YOU are causing a problem. You are yelling. You need to stop yelling. Take some breaths.
Becca: (ignored me and continued with the tirade) Take it off! You (scratched Ben's arm) get (scratch) your (scratch) arm (grab) OFF!
Well, I couldn't let the scratching and grabbing go. To his credit, Ben sat there with a shit-eating grin on his face, arm casually slung along the back of the seat, and watched Becca melt. I tried using the quiet, close-to-your-face, whisper-between-my-gritted-teeth voice to convince Becca to take some breaths (In your nose, out your mouth. Watch, like this!), but she was too far gone. So, I unbuckled her, stuck her in the middle of the grocery part of the cart, and continued on my merry way.
For the rest of the grocery trip, I am sad to report, Becca screamed. At the top of her freaking lungs. In a shrill tone. Without pausing for a breath. I want chips. I want chips. I want chips. Stupid chips.
As we shopped, I got several encouraging nods, thumbs-up signs, a few "Good job, Momma"s, and even one hug from other moms, who had clearly "been there". I have done the same to other mothers as they have tried to make it through grocery stores, hoping to be unseen. I'm glad, now, that I have given these bits of encouragement because, I promise you, I certainly appreciated them that day. But, as we finally left the store, just before we reached the door, one man undermined every positive comment I got that day. As our cart passed this man's check-out lane, he stepped into our path, pointed his finger into my screaming daughter's face. and condescended, "Young lady, every single person in this store is happy that you are finally leaving. I hope you know that."
I'm not sure I have ever been more surprised or angry in my life. I did not know what to say. If the man had said something to me, the ADULT who was really responsible for dragging this child through the store, it would have been one thing. But to reprimand my daughter--a CHILD--that was something different all together. I continued my cart out of the store, loaded my groceries, strapped in my kids, and, finally, thought of what I should have said.
I should have stopped the cart, turned to the man, and said, "Yes, I bet you are happy. I know she's made a lot of noise, and probably made your shopping trip unpleasant. But she is FIVE, and clearly tired and hungry. You, on the other hand, are a GROWN ASS MAN, and you should know better."
Actually, I should have known better. My kids were exhausted, and so was I. I never should have taken them to the grocery store that day. It was lunch time, and they were probably 'starving'. I probably should have at least tried to feed them first, not promise them food afterward. When we got home, and she had calmed down, I said to Becca, "You know, honey, you needed to take some breaths. Remember how we practiced?" and she said, "But, Momma, I couldn't." I believe her. If I had been thinking about my daughter, not my groceries, I would have realized that she was tired, hungry, five, and overstressed. I'm not saying I should have given her the chips. But, I do believe I should have pulled the cart over in the back, by the goldfish, taken her out, and cuddled her until she could calm down. I still shouldn't have let her have the chips, but I should have dealt with her tantrum, because she was beyond being able to deal with it herself.
Sixteen years into this parenting thing, decades of child development and education classes, I am still figuring it out as I go. Next time, I hope to do it better. That's all I can plan. Next time. I can definitely tell you this: I won't be promising anybody any chips any time soon.
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