I didn’t miss the end of the movie because that is not what I do. Instead I missed the 20 minutes prior to the conclusion and catch the last ten minutes and resist the urge to say “Wait, what?! Back it up, because I suddenly have no idea what is going on!” That’s the kind of movie watcher I am. You know, the type that will inevitably fall asleep at a crucial moment and then wake up only to have a gaping hole in the story line. I’m also the one that says “What? NO, I wasn’t sleeping! I’m toootallllly awake!” I do this because I’m embarrassed that I haven’t viewed a movie in its entirety in since 2002.
I’m also the one while watching a movie who asks “Hey, where do we know that actor from?” It drives me crazy because I can’t really get into the movie because I’m wracking my brain trying to figure out what other series, film, etc. the actors have been in. It drives everyone else crazy because I won't shut up about it until I remember. Now who wants to come to my house to watch a movie? I usually don't snore!
While thinking of my own movie watching idiosyncrasies I realized that everyone I know has some sort of movie viewing habit. Some are more annoying than others. I put up with them all though, because frankly, mine are irritating too, and I know it. The following are based on my observations from movies viewed in my home, since I haven't seen one in the theater in quite some time.
My husband is the type of person who will remain relatively quiet throughout the 90 minutes or so and then spend the time after the television goes off replaying everything that wasn’t completely realistic. “That would never happen because x, y, z… laws of physics, etc.” I know he’s not the only one who does this because his brother is the exact same way. I really have to bite my tongue so I don't say "WHO cares?!" I watch movies for entertainment. I have enough reality in my life. It's not such a bad thing if it's a little far fetched (okay, as long as it's not completely off the wall.) Besides if things happened his way most flicks would be over in about 25 minutes.
There is also the type who stays awake for the movie but for some reason can’t follow along. They can’t seem to get the story straight. These people ask questions incessantly. “Wait! Why did she do that? Who is that guy again? Wait, what just happened?” The other side to this is the person who over analyzes the character’s actions. “That wasn’t very smart! She should have done it this way instead...” In other words, none stop questions and talking.
Again in the realm of non stop talking, there is the type of person who talks throughout the movie about things completely unrelated. "Do you remember that time when...?" "Can you believe...?" "Do you want to go shopping tomorrow?" Things more appropriately discussed when the TV goes off. This type tends to go hand in hand with the prior one, as it's hard to follow a story line when you gab about everything under the sun.
There are people who will watch a show over and over and over again. I can’t understand this because once I’ve seen it, I lose interest. My husband has watched The Lord of the Rings movies approximately 273 times each. I see it on TV and groan “again?” Not that I’ve stayed awake through any of them, but still. Once is enough for me.
I suppose there are individuals who just sit down and watch a movie in their homes with a bowl of popcorn and the lights turned down, but the people I know have one or more of these habits. Which movie watching personality type are you?
An Original Deep South Moms post.
When Rebecca isn’t sleeping through movies, she is raising her four boys. Who might just be the reason she can’t stay awake through a 90 minute movie. Rebecca blogs at Life With Boys.
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Posted by Rebecca on January 03, 2009 at 07:06 AM in Rebecca | Permalink
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ilinap said...
I dragged my husband to see Citizen Kane in the theater. He fell asleep in the beginning and I kept nudging him. Next thing I knew, I woke up with the lights on asking "Who'd Rosebud?"
Reply January 04, 2009 at 06:09 AM Vanderbilt Wife said...
My hubby is one of those "what was that actor in?" watchers. He constantly has IMDB.com up when we are watching TV or movies cause he can't stand to not know the answer to something in his head. Maybe it's a bad idea to have computer and TV in same room.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Saturday, December 20, 2008
The Holiday Party
I always look forward to my husband’s holiday party with a combination of excitement and dread. It’s an odd mixture of emotions. I get excited to go shopping and pick out something I normally wouldn’t wear, but dread the potential price tag for something I’ll usually only wear once. I eagerly anticipate a meal with adult company and not having to cut little boys' food, or say “sit down and eat” even one time. Simultaneously, I fear that I’ll make myself look ridiculous in some way. Spill food, talk about mundane kid stuff too much, talk about funny kid stuff way too much.The opportunities to embarrass myself or be socially awkward are endless.
This year I thought I had done well. I acquired a dress right after Thanksgiving. It was on sale, which was a total bonus. Fortunately, the week before the party I thought I should try on the dress one more time. Unfortunately, I discovered upon doing so that I absolutely hated it and it must be returned ASAP. What was I thinking to have bought something so NOT my style? Maybe I was still in my too much Thanksgiving food stupor when I made the purchase, but it was clear that there was no way I was going to be wearing that dress.
In my usual procrastinating style, the day before the party I frantically searched for something to wear. I went over my criteria in my head. Not black, because I tend to be drawn to black, but wanted something more cheery and festive for this occasion. Something dressy, but not formal necessarily, I don't want to stand out. The dress for this event typically ranges from business attire to not quite black tie, with all sorts of in between. I needed something perfect that would make me feel good and maybe even forget about the 40 or so pounds I still need to lose. It should also be on sale! It was a tall order for something that was formerly a yard of fabric and a spool of thread to fill.
After several hours I found a dress that mostly met my requirements and I was once again excited for the Christmas party. That is, until the in the car on the way there. I began my annual Pre-Holiday Party Worry Fest. What if I was too dressed up? What if I wasn't dressed up enough? What on earth would I talk to people about? What was there to talk about other than the kids and potty training and never ending laundry? What if my eyes glazed over and their conversations about business or whatever else flew right over my head. I put this all to the back of my mind as we neared our destination.
Besides another small panic when we arrived (That's two women wearing pants suits! What if I'm the only one in a dress!?!) the party went fine. Turns out I was dressed just fine. There was good food, great conversation, and I got to enjoy a meal that I didn't have to prepare or clean up after. I don't think I made any major social faux pas and I only talked about the kids when asked. I didn't bring up potty training once. That shouldn't be an accomplishment, but I will confess that it is.
It was somewhere toward the middle of the evening that I realized I shouldn't fret over these things. Most of these people were a lot like me, despite the differences of business professionals versus the stay at home mom. We were all just normal people in a social situation. The angst I felt was based on my own insecurities and not in reality. Maybe next year I can skip the anxiety and just enjoy the party.
This year I thought I had done well. I acquired a dress right after Thanksgiving. It was on sale, which was a total bonus. Fortunately, the week before the party I thought I should try on the dress one more time. Unfortunately, I discovered upon doing so that I absolutely hated it and it must be returned ASAP. What was I thinking to have bought something so NOT my style? Maybe I was still in my too much Thanksgiving food stupor when I made the purchase, but it was clear that there was no way I was going to be wearing that dress.
In my usual procrastinating style, the day before the party I frantically searched for something to wear. I went over my criteria in my head. Not black, because I tend to be drawn to black, but wanted something more cheery and festive for this occasion. Something dressy, but not formal necessarily, I don't want to stand out. The dress for this event typically ranges from business attire to not quite black tie, with all sorts of in between. I needed something perfect that would make me feel good and maybe even forget about the 40 or so pounds I still need to lose. It should also be on sale! It was a tall order for something that was formerly a yard of fabric and a spool of thread to fill.
After several hours I found a dress that mostly met my requirements and I was once again excited for the Christmas party. That is, until the in the car on the way there. I began my annual Pre-Holiday Party Worry Fest. What if I was too dressed up? What if I wasn't dressed up enough? What on earth would I talk to people about? What was there to talk about other than the kids and potty training and never ending laundry? What if my eyes glazed over and their conversations about business or whatever else flew right over my head. I put this all to the back of my mind as we neared our destination.
Besides another small panic when we arrived (That's two women wearing pants suits! What if I'm the only one in a dress!?!) the party went fine. Turns out I was dressed just fine. There was good food, great conversation, and I got to enjoy a meal that I didn't have to prepare or clean up after. I don't think I made any major social faux pas and I only talked about the kids when asked. I didn't bring up potty training once. That shouldn't be an accomplishment, but I will confess that it is.
It was somewhere toward the middle of the evening that I realized I shouldn't fret over these things. Most of these people were a lot like me, despite the differences of business professionals versus the stay at home mom. We were all just normal people in a social situation. The angst I felt was based on my own insecurities and not in reality. Maybe next year I can skip the anxiety and just enjoy the party.
Monday, December 15, 2008
My Wake Up Call
I have to confess I’ve always had hard time giving money to charities. Or, more accurately, deciding who in the world to give to. This time of year we are all barraged with phone calls, letters, and pleas for help. Most, from worthy causes and all of them tug at my heart. If funds were unlimited I’d take out my checkbook and start writing. Since they are not, for a lot of years I’ve taken the approach of not deciding and feeling guilty about it. I would struggle with the fact that any amount we could give wouldn’t be enough. Not enough to change a life, not enough to cure a disease, not enough to really make a difference. I knew deep down that my thinking was flawed, but it took an event that directly impacted me to snap me out of it.
This year, we decided that as a family we would try to help people locally. My husband picked up a tag off his tree at work to buy presents for a 7 year old little girl. Shopping for that was great fun, all the while explaining to the kids why we were buying gifts for someone we didn’t even know. Explaining, as they moaned “But we want that!” that this time of year is not just about getting, but giving. I felt good about this plan, and didn’t plan to delve into the realm of donating money to another charity.
My wakeup call was earlier this month when I received a notification via Facebook that one of my friends in Georgia had lost her battle with breast cancer. She was diagnosed shortly after I met her with Stage 4 cancer and she fought a hard battle. It never occurred to me back then that she would eventually lose her life. She was only a few years older than me. People in their mid- thirties shouldn’t die. Yet they do, and this time it was close to home. I wrestled with the emotions that surfaced and finally came to the conclusion that I simply must give to the Susan G Komen organization. It’s not an earth shattering amount, but I am hoping added to all the other donations from others it will make a difference. As I remember my friend, my hope is that another young woman will win her fight.
This year, we decided that as a family we would try to help people locally. My husband picked up a tag off his tree at work to buy presents for a 7 year old little girl. Shopping for that was great fun, all the while explaining to the kids why we were buying gifts for someone we didn’t even know. Explaining, as they moaned “But we want that!” that this time of year is not just about getting, but giving. I felt good about this plan, and didn’t plan to delve into the realm of donating money to another charity.
My wakeup call was earlier this month when I received a notification via Facebook that one of my friends in Georgia had lost her battle with breast cancer. She was diagnosed shortly after I met her with Stage 4 cancer and she fought a hard battle. It never occurred to me back then that she would eventually lose her life. She was only a few years older than me. People in their mid- thirties shouldn’t die. Yet they do, and this time it was close to home. I wrestled with the emotions that surfaced and finally came to the conclusion that I simply must give to the Susan G Komen organization. It’s not an earth shattering amount, but I am hoping added to all the other donations from others it will make a difference. As I remember my friend, my hope is that another young woman will win her fight.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Afraid of a Fever - My Experience With Febrile Seizure
I had become quite laid back when it came to illness. I knew kids got sick and tried not to rush to the pediatrician every time they sneezed, coughed, or had a little fever. I didn’t even always give fever reducing medicine with every feverish episode. I was feeling pretty secure in my motherly intuition and that my sense of things was usually right. This confidence had come over six years and four boys worth of illnesses and doctor’s visits.
With baby number one this wasn’t the case. I was the nervous new mother, afraid that I was going to do something wrong, miss something huge, or make some novice mistake that would harm the precious, new, tiny human being that had been entrusted into my care. Slowly, I began to trust myself and gained the confidence that I would know if there was something wrong. Gradually, I learned the difference between a stuffy nose that I could handle at home and something that needed a quick trip to the pediatrician. I wasn’t always right, of course. There were times that I was so sure that one of the boys had an ear infection only to be shocked when the pediatrician announced that their ears were “perfect.” Despite that I felt like I had a pretty good handle on when to worry and when to relax and let things run their course.
Something happened recently that has shaken this confidence. Fever has gone from no big deal to a really big, huge, giant deal. I used to only medicate if the temperature reached 100.5 and sometimes not even then if they didn’t seem lethargic or otherwise feeling rotten. I believed the theory that fever is the body’s way of fighting off infection and tried to let it do so. That all changed the morning my 3 year old had a febrile seizure.
The previous evening had been uneventful. The kids all went to bed easily and there was no sign of illness. As often happens, the fever didn’t strike until the middle of the night. My big boy crawled into bed with me and whined and I hugged him and he felt hot. Not the warm, let’s see what happens kind of fever. He was hot. I sleepily wandered into the kitchen and gave him some ibuprofen, and then we slept.
In the morning, I was pleased that his body felt cool and he seemed his bubbly, happy self. As we continued our morning routine of rushing to get his older brothers ready for school, I noticed him getting a little whiny, and even felt his forehead a few times, but he still felt cool to the touch. It wasn’t until we were in the garage getting in the van that upon checking again he felt not warm, but hot. It happened so fast. I quickly put the baby in his car seat and was heading back in the house to get a dose of medicine to give to him. I mentally crossed off the things I wouldn’t be doing that day and wondered if I should call the pediatrician for an appointment after running the kids to school. It was then that I looked over and he was sitting on the garage floor looking down. I said “Hey, buddy, let’s get in the car.” He didn’t respond. I bent down and picked him up and his gaze was fixed on nothing. I could not get him to look at me, or respond in any way to me. My gut told me he was about to have a seizure and I took him inside and called 911.
Even never having seen a child seize, I knew what was happening. I had the knowledge that this was a fairly common thing. I knew that febrile seizures were not usually harmful. I knew they usually had no lasting side effects. Yet, the experience of watching my child go through this was just about more than I could handle. I did manage to hold myself together, barely. I could not ride on the ambulance because I had the other kids to take care of. Watching the ambulance leave with my baby inside was gut wrenching. I’ve never felt so helpless. I called someone to come take my big boys to school. She grabbed the youngest while she was there so I could go to the hospital on my own. I called my husband to meet me at the hospital. He beat the ambulance there, which was so comforting. I kept picturing my little buddy in the hospital, awake but not knowing where he was and having no one he knew with him. The fear of him being alone and afraid was worse than the actual seizure. It was a relief to have that feeling put aside.
That day was in August. It took me three days to stop worrying it was going to happen again. It was at least a week before I stopped touching his forehead several times a day, whether he was acting sick or not. My philosophy for treating fevers has completely turned 180 degrees. Instead of waiting to let things run their course I give him medicine if he reaches 99.5. That is, I will. Fortunately, since that day in late August none of the boys has been ill. That hasn’t stopped me from checking his temperature at the slightest sign of a sneeze. It hasn’t kept me from wondering if and when it will happen again, to him or one of the other boys.
I know that there is nothing I could have done to prevent his seizure. I know that I did everything right that day. I know that he is fine and even if it were to happen again, he would still be fine. Still, the experience shook my confidence that I know when something is serious or not. Sometimes knowledge just isn’t enough to soothe a mother’s heart.
An original Deep South Moms post.
Read more about Rebecca's Life With Boys on her personal blog.
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Posted by Rebecca on December 05, 2008 at 11:50 AM in Rebecca | Permalink
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Sue @ My Party of 6 said...
Oh this story makes my heart race. How very scary. I've never seen a febrile seizure either and I wonder if I could hold it together if one of my kids had one. Thank goodness he was ok and your husband is a fast driver!
Great post!
Reply December 05, 2008 at 01:24 PM Amy@UWM said...
Oh, wow. How scary! Thanks for sharing this. I don't know if would have known what was happening if my child suddenly went unresponsive like that.
Reply December 05, 2008 at 05:32 PM Ann said...
I remember when this happened - how scary. Hopefully you'll never witness that again
ann
Reply December 05, 2008 at 05:47 PM Kate said...
I have never been to this site before but I'll be reading from now on, two posts in one day that have touched my heart.
I understand that feeling, the moment when your child goes from a regular kid to burningly hot and then suddenly there is just nothing in their eyes. Its the most painfully terrifying thing. I was lucky that the after hours dr I saw when my 2 yr old daughter (she's three and a half now) had a chest infection was listening to his intuition, for some reason he sent us to hospital to see the paediatrician when I was happy enough to take the antibiotics and head home. An hour later and just managed to get into the ER after sitting in the waiting room, I was giving her some asthma inhaler and suddenly she wasn't there anymore, her eyes rolled back and she was seizing, her entire body. That feeling of watching people working on your child, hearing the sound of them choke on their own saliva and knowing that apart from making them safe you can't do a damn thing.
But believe me you will find that confidence again, it will be tempered with a little less bravado but you will feel able to trust yourself again. Take strength from the fact that you did the right thing, you can't see these things coming and you may never have to see another one again, and by writing this post you may have prepared another parent for something which lots of people think will never happen to them. Thanks for sharing.
Reply December 08, 2008 at 01:45 PM maryelena said...
You've done a great job describing the horror of the seizures and the loss of confidence in the ability to treat basic childhood illnesses. My daughter had her first febrile seizure at 15 months and another at 26 months and none since (6 years later). You do get your confidence back -- slowly. I became the queen of alternating tylenol and motrin and taking lukewarm baths together. I had some special toys for the fever baths to make them more bearable for her.
The next fever will be scary until you can keep it down and it goes by without incident and then you will be on your way to getting your mommy groove back.
Good luck.
Reply December 08, 2008 at 09:48 PM Rebecca said...
Thanks to all of you for the sweet comments! Kate & Maryelena, thank you so very much for sharing your stories. It is good to know others who have been through the same thing, though I'd never wish the experience on any mother.
With baby number one this wasn’t the case. I was the nervous new mother, afraid that I was going to do something wrong, miss something huge, or make some novice mistake that would harm the precious, new, tiny human being that had been entrusted into my care. Slowly, I began to trust myself and gained the confidence that I would know if there was something wrong. Gradually, I learned the difference between a stuffy nose that I could handle at home and something that needed a quick trip to the pediatrician. I wasn’t always right, of course. There were times that I was so sure that one of the boys had an ear infection only to be shocked when the pediatrician announced that their ears were “perfect.” Despite that I felt like I had a pretty good handle on when to worry and when to relax and let things run their course.
Something happened recently that has shaken this confidence. Fever has gone from no big deal to a really big, huge, giant deal. I used to only medicate if the temperature reached 100.5 and sometimes not even then if they didn’t seem lethargic or otherwise feeling rotten. I believed the theory that fever is the body’s way of fighting off infection and tried to let it do so. That all changed the morning my 3 year old had a febrile seizure.
The previous evening had been uneventful. The kids all went to bed easily and there was no sign of illness. As often happens, the fever didn’t strike until the middle of the night. My big boy crawled into bed with me and whined and I hugged him and he felt hot. Not the warm, let’s see what happens kind of fever. He was hot. I sleepily wandered into the kitchen and gave him some ibuprofen, and then we slept.
In the morning, I was pleased that his body felt cool and he seemed his bubbly, happy self. As we continued our morning routine of rushing to get his older brothers ready for school, I noticed him getting a little whiny, and even felt his forehead a few times, but he still felt cool to the touch. It wasn’t until we were in the garage getting in the van that upon checking again he felt not warm, but hot. It happened so fast. I quickly put the baby in his car seat and was heading back in the house to get a dose of medicine to give to him. I mentally crossed off the things I wouldn’t be doing that day and wondered if I should call the pediatrician for an appointment after running the kids to school. It was then that I looked over and he was sitting on the garage floor looking down. I said “Hey, buddy, let’s get in the car.” He didn’t respond. I bent down and picked him up and his gaze was fixed on nothing. I could not get him to look at me, or respond in any way to me. My gut told me he was about to have a seizure and I took him inside and called 911.
Even never having seen a child seize, I knew what was happening. I had the knowledge that this was a fairly common thing. I knew that febrile seizures were not usually harmful. I knew they usually had no lasting side effects. Yet, the experience of watching my child go through this was just about more than I could handle. I did manage to hold myself together, barely. I could not ride on the ambulance because I had the other kids to take care of. Watching the ambulance leave with my baby inside was gut wrenching. I’ve never felt so helpless. I called someone to come take my big boys to school. She grabbed the youngest while she was there so I could go to the hospital on my own. I called my husband to meet me at the hospital. He beat the ambulance there, which was so comforting. I kept picturing my little buddy in the hospital, awake but not knowing where he was and having no one he knew with him. The fear of him being alone and afraid was worse than the actual seizure. It was a relief to have that feeling put aside.
That day was in August. It took me three days to stop worrying it was going to happen again. It was at least a week before I stopped touching his forehead several times a day, whether he was acting sick or not. My philosophy for treating fevers has completely turned 180 degrees. Instead of waiting to let things run their course I give him medicine if he reaches 99.5. That is, I will. Fortunately, since that day in late August none of the boys has been ill. That hasn’t stopped me from checking his temperature at the slightest sign of a sneeze. It hasn’t kept me from wondering if and when it will happen again, to him or one of the other boys.
I know that there is nothing I could have done to prevent his seizure. I know that I did everything right that day. I know that he is fine and even if it were to happen again, he would still be fine. Still, the experience shook my confidence that I know when something is serious or not. Sometimes knowledge just isn’t enough to soothe a mother’s heart.
An original Deep South Moms post.
Read more about Rebecca's Life With Boys on her personal blog.
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Posted by Rebecca on December 05, 2008 at 11:50 AM in Rebecca | Permalink
Technorati Tags: Deep South Moms, febrile seizure, Life With Boys
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Sue @ My Party of 6 said...
Oh this story makes my heart race. How very scary. I've never seen a febrile seizure either and I wonder if I could hold it together if one of my kids had one. Thank goodness he was ok and your husband is a fast driver!
Great post!
Reply December 05, 2008 at 01:24 PM Amy@UWM said...
Oh, wow. How scary! Thanks for sharing this. I don't know if would have known what was happening if my child suddenly went unresponsive like that.
Reply December 05, 2008 at 05:32 PM Ann said...
I remember when this happened - how scary. Hopefully you'll never witness that again
ann
Reply December 05, 2008 at 05:47 PM Kate said...
I have never been to this site before but I'll be reading from now on, two posts in one day that have touched my heart.
I understand that feeling, the moment when your child goes from a regular kid to burningly hot and then suddenly there is just nothing in their eyes. Its the most painfully terrifying thing. I was lucky that the after hours dr I saw when my 2 yr old daughter (she's three and a half now) had a chest infection was listening to his intuition, for some reason he sent us to hospital to see the paediatrician when I was happy enough to take the antibiotics and head home. An hour later and just managed to get into the ER after sitting in the waiting room, I was giving her some asthma inhaler and suddenly she wasn't there anymore, her eyes rolled back and she was seizing, her entire body. That feeling of watching people working on your child, hearing the sound of them choke on their own saliva and knowing that apart from making them safe you can't do a damn thing.
But believe me you will find that confidence again, it will be tempered with a little less bravado but you will feel able to trust yourself again. Take strength from the fact that you did the right thing, you can't see these things coming and you may never have to see another one again, and by writing this post you may have prepared another parent for something which lots of people think will never happen to them. Thanks for sharing.
Reply December 08, 2008 at 01:45 PM maryelena said...
You've done a great job describing the horror of the seizures and the loss of confidence in the ability to treat basic childhood illnesses. My daughter had her first febrile seizure at 15 months and another at 26 months and none since (6 years later). You do get your confidence back -- slowly. I became the queen of alternating tylenol and motrin and taking lukewarm baths together. I had some special toys for the fever baths to make them more bearable for her.
The next fever will be scary until you can keep it down and it goes by without incident and then you will be on your way to getting your mommy groove back.
Good luck.
Reply December 08, 2008 at 09:48 PM Rebecca said...
Thanks to all of you for the sweet comments! Kate & Maryelena, thank you so very much for sharing your stories. It is good to know others who have been through the same thing, though I'd never wish the experience on any mother.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
To The Person Who Found My Shampoo
To Whom it may concern,
Are you the one who found my shampoo and conditioner in the gym shower? Yes? It was in a green bottle and not the cheapie kind like you get at Target. Oh no, this time I splurged and treated myself to a nice, wonderful smelling, all natural, good for my hair variety. I even sprung for the matching conditioner because I was indulging myself with something nice. I’m just wondering if you considered turning it in to the lost and found before stuffing it into your gym bag. Did it cross your mind?
I’ll concede that it was a not the brightest thing to leave it in the shower, along with my facial cleanser. Did you take that too? I'll take that part of the blame. In fact, I was prepared to take full responsibility until the lady working the front desk apologized and I said “well, it’s my fault for leaving it in the shower” and she answered “No, SOMEONE shouldn’t have stolen it.” She’s right, you know. Leaving my stuff in the shower makes me kind of an airhead, taking it makes you kind of a thief.
You see, there’s a Lost and Found for a reason, and that reason is when someone has a forgetful moment, they can have their things returned to them. I’ve seen it work before. It’s a beautiful thing to be reunited with a lost sweater, or a towel, a set of keys, or maybe even hair products. Not this time, however, because it seems that you took them. You could have turned it right in and made my day. Instead, you kept it for yourself.
Don’t worry, though. I’ll move right on past this. I probably won’t go out and buy another bottle, because it was hard enough for me to spend $15.00 on a small bottle of shampoo the first time around. I’ve only used a tiny amount of it before I had that small lapse in brain function so I guess I'll just go get something more practical. Time for goodbye Aveda, hello Pantene.I'm not thrilled about it,but I won’t be wondering if that’s you there next to me in Spin Class. I won't be on the look out for ladies with fabulous hair, and I am letting my frustration that anyone would steal something so ridiculous as shampoo all out in this letter. I am letting it go.
So, since you have it now, please enjoy. Cherish the yummy smell and the shiny, clean, soft, voluminous hair it gives you. If you need more, I can point you in the direction of the salon where you can buy some.
Sincerely,
The Idiot Who Left the Fancy Shampoo in the Shower
This is an original Deep South Moms post. When Rebecca isn’t losing stuff she’s taking care of her boys and writing all about it at Life With Boys.
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Posted by Rebecca on November 25, 2008 at 10:00 AM in Rebecca | Permalink
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Sue @ My Party of 6 said...
Oh no. That stinks. I wonder if it's the same person who took my brand new (not fancy, but NEW) lock and key a few weeks ago. Hurumph. Karma's a bitch though - they'll get theirs!
Are you the one who found my shampoo and conditioner in the gym shower? Yes? It was in a green bottle and not the cheapie kind like you get at Target. Oh no, this time I splurged and treated myself to a nice, wonderful smelling, all natural, good for my hair variety. I even sprung for the matching conditioner because I was indulging myself with something nice. I’m just wondering if you considered turning it in to the lost and found before stuffing it into your gym bag. Did it cross your mind?
I’ll concede that it was a not the brightest thing to leave it in the shower, along with my facial cleanser. Did you take that too? I'll take that part of the blame. In fact, I was prepared to take full responsibility until the lady working the front desk apologized and I said “well, it’s my fault for leaving it in the shower” and she answered “No, SOMEONE shouldn’t have stolen it.” She’s right, you know. Leaving my stuff in the shower makes me kind of an airhead, taking it makes you kind of a thief.
You see, there’s a Lost and Found for a reason, and that reason is when someone has a forgetful moment, they can have their things returned to them. I’ve seen it work before. It’s a beautiful thing to be reunited with a lost sweater, or a towel, a set of keys, or maybe even hair products. Not this time, however, because it seems that you took them. You could have turned it right in and made my day. Instead, you kept it for yourself.
Don’t worry, though. I’ll move right on past this. I probably won’t go out and buy another bottle, because it was hard enough for me to spend $15.00 on a small bottle of shampoo the first time around. I’ve only used a tiny amount of it before I had that small lapse in brain function so I guess I'll just go get something more practical. Time for goodbye Aveda, hello Pantene.I'm not thrilled about it,but I won’t be wondering if that’s you there next to me in Spin Class. I won't be on the look out for ladies with fabulous hair, and I am letting my frustration that anyone would steal something so ridiculous as shampoo all out in this letter. I am letting it go.
So, since you have it now, please enjoy. Cherish the yummy smell and the shiny, clean, soft, voluminous hair it gives you. If you need more, I can point you in the direction of the salon where you can buy some.
Sincerely,
The Idiot Who Left the Fancy Shampoo in the Shower
This is an original Deep South Moms post. When Rebecca isn’t losing stuff she’s taking care of her boys and writing all about it at Life With Boys.
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Posted by Rebecca on November 25, 2008 at 10:00 AM in Rebecca | Permalink
Technorati Tags: Deep South Moms, humor, Life With Boys, lost, shampoo, stolen
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Sue @ My Party of 6 said...
Oh no. That stinks. I wonder if it's the same person who took my brand new (not fancy, but NEW) lock and key a few weeks ago. Hurumph. Karma's a bitch though - they'll get theirs!
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
They Can Do It!
My husband tells me I work too hard. When I have a bad day and lament how hard it is to get the million things I need to do done, he says I need to "utilize my resources" more efficiently. He's not being snide, he simply intends to say "make your day easier by putting those boys to work!" He is right and I know it. It's a case, however, of easier said than done.
In the evenings when we are scrambling to get dinner on the table and one of them demands, "Aren't you forgetting my milk?" my tendency is to respond "Is that how you ask?" or "Where's the please?" while simultaneously trudging to the fridge for the milk, and to the cabinet for cups. His reaction is to say "Hey buddy, if you are in such a hurry for milk why don't you go get the milk and the cups out yourself." They gladly do it, and it is one less thing for me to do before getting to sit down to my own dinner. Makes perfect sense, but it just doesn't come naturally.
It's not unreasonable to expect a six and a five year old to do a few things to help out around the house. There are so many reasons to teach them this. Not the least of which is to have their future wives thank me for raising boys (men? gulp) who can do their own laundry and pick their socks off of the floor. If I manage that I will have succeeded somewhat as a mother. Yet, I find myself struggling to let them help. Sometimes it's because I'm in a hurry. Kid help is less than ideal. They don't stay on task, they want to do things that are above their ability, and so many days my patience is spent and I answer their "Mommy can I help you?" with a suggestion to go play in the playroom. Because if I'm honest the most helpful thing in that moment seems to be quiet.
Completely contradictory to my behavior, I do want them to have responsibilities. I want to teach them that families work together to get things done. It's not all Mommy's job to do the folding, and scrubbing and picking up toys. Due to an effort to correct my "do it all myself" mentality, my eyes have recently been opened. Not long ago I was heading out the door to run an errand and said to the 6 year old "Hey dude, do you think you could unload the dishwasher for mom?" He immediately jumped into action and as I was walking out the door he already had the step stool out and was putting away the cups. I was completely taken aback because I fully expected my request to be answered with whining, or "that's hard," or similar. Surprisingly, I came home to an empty dishwasher and a cleared off table. They can do it! I have to let them.
I am not sure why I got bogged down with the doing it all for the kids syndrome. Maybe it was because I had my four boys all in the span of five years. They were all very little and I had to do everything for them. Being a creature of habit I simply kept doing it. Now times are changing and they aren't babies anymore. They can do age appropriate chores.Not that they'll be doing their own laundry or mopping the floor any time soon, but I am discovering that a six year old can unload the dishwasher, a five year old can set the table. They can put their own dishes in the sink when they finish eating. The three year old can pull up his own pants after he goes potty. It's those little things that I can teach them to do to make my day run smoother. Most importantly it will free up a few precious minutes for Mommy to play with her boys.
I confess I'm not completely there yet. I'm a work in progress. You'll still find me holding back the urge to help that three year old pull up his pants when I know I could get it done faster and straighter. I struggle with the job not getting done correctly, or in a timely fashion. However, tonight when asked, "Can I help with dinner?" I resisted saying "wouldn't you rather go play?"
Still on my list to work on is how to motivate the boys when they aren't so willing, when they whine or have a bad case of the I don't want tos. That is a task left to another day. For today I will celebrate the victories of baby steps toward more independent children, and go load that empty dishwasher.
An original Deep South Moms post.When Rebecca is not trying to figure out how to just let the boys help her, she blogs about everything else they do at Life With Boys.
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Posted by Rebecca on November 11, 2008 at 05:00 AM in Rebecca | Permalink
Technorati Tags: chores, Deep South Moms, helping, kids, Life With Boys
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Amy@UWM said...
Please do my daughters a favor and continue to let your boys do for themselves!!!! Seriously, it's not just a boy thing. I struggle with this with my girls as well as my husband. It does seem easier in the short run to do everything myself.
Reply November 11, 2008 at 05:40 PM Sue @ My Party of 6 said...
So true! I do the same and I think it's because I had so many close together, I treated them all the same. But at no. 3's kindergarten conference last week, I heard that I need to teach him to be more independent, so I need to learn this lesson too!
Reply November 12, 2008 at 06:45 AM Megan said...
Good for you, and your husband, for teaching your boys to help out! My parents' divorce a long time ago was largely influenced by the fact that my father did not help out around the house (he was not expected to help out when he was growing up), and when I dated a guy who showed similar behavior patterns I realized the amount of stress it can create. They will be so much better off when they're on their own if they've built these good habits from a young age. I get what you're saying about it being more work sometimes when they help, but please, for the sake of women everywhere, keep it up!
In the evenings when we are scrambling to get dinner on the table and one of them demands, "Aren't you forgetting my milk?" my tendency is to respond "Is that how you ask?" or "Where's the please?" while simultaneously trudging to the fridge for the milk, and to the cabinet for cups. His reaction is to say "Hey buddy, if you are in such a hurry for milk why don't you go get the milk and the cups out yourself." They gladly do it, and it is one less thing for me to do before getting to sit down to my own dinner. Makes perfect sense, but it just doesn't come naturally.
It's not unreasonable to expect a six and a five year old to do a few things to help out around the house. There are so many reasons to teach them this. Not the least of which is to have their future wives thank me for raising boys (men? gulp) who can do their own laundry and pick their socks off of the floor. If I manage that I will have succeeded somewhat as a mother. Yet, I find myself struggling to let them help. Sometimes it's because I'm in a hurry. Kid help is less than ideal. They don't stay on task, they want to do things that are above their ability, and so many days my patience is spent and I answer their "Mommy can I help you?" with a suggestion to go play in the playroom. Because if I'm honest the most helpful thing in that moment seems to be quiet.
Completely contradictory to my behavior, I do want them to have responsibilities. I want to teach them that families work together to get things done. It's not all Mommy's job to do the folding, and scrubbing and picking up toys. Due to an effort to correct my "do it all myself" mentality, my eyes have recently been opened. Not long ago I was heading out the door to run an errand and said to the 6 year old "Hey dude, do you think you could unload the dishwasher for mom?" He immediately jumped into action and as I was walking out the door he already had the step stool out and was putting away the cups. I was completely taken aback because I fully expected my request to be answered with whining, or "that's hard," or similar. Surprisingly, I came home to an empty dishwasher and a cleared off table. They can do it! I have to let them.
I am not sure why I got bogged down with the doing it all for the kids syndrome. Maybe it was because I had my four boys all in the span of five years. They were all very little and I had to do everything for them. Being a creature of habit I simply kept doing it. Now times are changing and they aren't babies anymore. They can do age appropriate chores.Not that they'll be doing their own laundry or mopping the floor any time soon, but I am discovering that a six year old can unload the dishwasher, a five year old can set the table. They can put their own dishes in the sink when they finish eating. The three year old can pull up his own pants after he goes potty. It's those little things that I can teach them to do to make my day run smoother. Most importantly it will free up a few precious minutes for Mommy to play with her boys.
I confess I'm not completely there yet. I'm a work in progress. You'll still find me holding back the urge to help that three year old pull up his pants when I know I could get it done faster and straighter. I struggle with the job not getting done correctly, or in a timely fashion. However, tonight when asked, "Can I help with dinner?" I resisted saying "wouldn't you rather go play?"
Still on my list to work on is how to motivate the boys when they aren't so willing, when they whine or have a bad case of the I don't want tos. That is a task left to another day. For today I will celebrate the victories of baby steps toward more independent children, and go load that empty dishwasher.
An original Deep South Moms post.When Rebecca is not trying to figure out how to just let the boys help her, she blogs about everything else they do at Life With Boys.
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Posted by Rebecca on November 11, 2008 at 05:00 AM in Rebecca | Permalink
Technorati Tags: chores, Deep South Moms, helping, kids, Life With Boys
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Amy@UWM said...
Please do my daughters a favor and continue to let your boys do for themselves!!!! Seriously, it's not just a boy thing. I struggle with this with my girls as well as my husband. It does seem easier in the short run to do everything myself.
Reply November 11, 2008 at 05:40 PM Sue @ My Party of 6 said...
So true! I do the same and I think it's because I had so many close together, I treated them all the same. But at no. 3's kindergarten conference last week, I heard that I need to teach him to be more independent, so I need to learn this lesson too!
Reply November 12, 2008 at 06:45 AM Megan said...
Good for you, and your husband, for teaching your boys to help out! My parents' divorce a long time ago was largely influenced by the fact that my father did not help out around the house (he was not expected to help out when he was growing up), and when I dated a guy who showed similar behavior patterns I realized the amount of stress it can create. They will be so much better off when they're on their own if they've built these good habits from a young age. I get what you're saying about it being more work sometimes when they help, but please, for the sake of women everywhere, keep it up!
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