Discussing with hubby when we should pick up our Pumpkin Pie for Thanksgiving…my 14 year old’s theory of why we should pick it up now…
“So I’m thinking about pie…and I really think you should get it before Thanksgiving…so we have it for 3 days…you know like that formula of PI 3.something-something… Means 3 days of PIE! “
So, who’s up for that logic?
This just happened last night, and reminded me so much of when my son was just toddling, and talking, not forming complete sentences yet…and after his first taste of pie (thanks to grandma) Whenever he’d hear the word… He’d come wobble walking, as quick as his chubby little legs would carry him, calling out in earnest…
“I pie. I pie…ma, I PIE.”
And would pat my leg for a delicious bite, and he’d wiggle his body a bit, back and forth as he chewed… and sometimes would lose his balance and fall on his diapered bottom. But he’d pop back up for more!
Saturday, I came down the stairs of my new house. It’s been cooler each morning. I’ve got slippers on (such a strange feeling) – a far cry different than our days in Southern, California, where it tended to be summer every-single-day.
Going from barefoot/flip flops to thick socks/fluffy slippers for the already cool mornings of Oregon, takes practice. Seriously, I had to practice “slipping” in slippers and nearly killed myself going down the stairs. (ack! Save me Jesus!)
Made it safely to the living room and switched on the tv and of course, my husband had the search feature set to “sports” and it took me a minute to realize, every thing I was looking at on the guide, was a sports channel.
It was random. I scrolled two stations up, and paused to get coffee. It ended up being soccer. And before I walked into the kitchen, I was entranced by the two teams playing.
It was a red team vs. a white team with a blue stripe. The Red team collected the ball and “took their time” lining up very strategically and taking their time passing the ball back-n-forth. Granted, as much as that was soothing to watch, it become boring to me very quickly. But the opposing team was the exact opposite, they were a flurry of activity. When they got the ball, they were like the red team, but on SPEED. The energy level went up extremely high. The Red team would get it back, and SLOW everything to more controlled passing, and then the white team…if you listened closely, I swear you could hear them buzzing like a swarm of bees.
Then, at of nowhere…the white team goes berserk and makes two amazing goals very quickly. I stood dumbfounded just watching the footwork and the things they can do with a ball, going what seems to be 20 miles an hour on foot. I’m watching for flames to shoot out from behind their heels, the latest rage in cleats. Or become hover boards.
The announcers had indicated their amazement as the Red team, Manchester United “MU” were undefeated the entire season, and here the White Team (HUD) just scored…TWICE. And MU had zero.
At that moment, my daughter stumbles down the stairs, her hair a wild mess, and she’s dragging a pillow and a throw blanket. She flops herself down on the floor in front of the television, and rubs her eyes and says,
“You’re watching soccer, mom? And, you have slippers?”
As if she couldn’t believe her eyes. Now. This is the funny thing. See, I didn’t know anything about soccer as my parents were never fans. I was very familiar with baseball, basketball, football, tennis, Ice Hockey, and even bowling, as my parents always either had on news, or one of those sports. Never soccer.
…then I married my husband. He grew up playing soccer and was very good at the sport. He insisted our kids play, and I was like “wha? Soccer, really?” As time had it…I started to learn things. First of all, the darn OFF SIDE rule. Wha? Oh, and everyone yells “Off sides” and we had one coach correct us – it’s Off side…no extra ‘s’ at the end. ( a little tid-bit for those other parents that may be unaware as I was)
My daughter, likes to play, and has watched bits-n-pieces on tv. However, that’s typically because we force her to watch 5 minutes, to better understand the game. She quickly looses interest with sports on t.v.
So, now…here we are… both watching and not being forced to by Dad (or older brother) having control over the t.v. All by coincidence that the guide was set to sports channels. Regardless, dad would be so proud, if he weren’t still sleeping.
I finally get my coffee, and she grabs some powdery doughnut holes. Someone is tripped and fouled in the game. Between powdery bites, she announces, clearly tickled by this revelation…and I’m thinking she is going to share some great soccer insight to this novice mom:
“Hey, mom! That #2 and #25, they have on the SAME shoes! No…wait…” She peruses the rest of the team as the camera spans outward, “Oh, the entire team has on the same shoes!”
Yes, but do those shoes shoot out flames or hover?”
…oh, and HUD won 2-1 over MU. It’s been 65 years (according to the announcer) since they beat Manchester United. So, we happened upon a history making game. See, we know what’s up.
So, as kids, our parents always told us, “Don’t take candy from strangers.” However, in this generation, we have to now say, “Don’t take candy from anyone without checking the label first.”
I just watched the TODAY show, and the first thing on is about POT SUCKERS. Just one more thing I have to fucking worry about…actually, it’s candy, in general, now that Pot is legalized in several places (like CA and OR) Apparently, the candy is identical to regular candy. You can’t tell the difference, they infuse / inject gummies, etc. with high concentration of cannabis oil. People are leaving these in their car, and house and little kids and teens are going to the hospital for ingesting these with very high heart racing issues. Who only eats just one sugary gummy?
Now, I don’t have anything against legalized pot. I treat it as alcohol. You have to be responsible. Don’t drive/operate machinery. But now, I have to put my faith into several someones who might be responsible users – only taking when home and staying home / but what about when they are careless with the product? They need to lock it up, because the appearance is exactly of regular candy.
They now fear that more kids are going to go into their pantry cabinet, grab a bag of cookies/candy and take them to school, like middle school (my kids are in middle), and offer to their friends…not realizing it’s infused with cannabis.
So now…not only have I told the kids – don’t take drugs, don’t “eat” anything from anyone…I even went so far as to say, don’t even accept an opened bottle of water. If the seal is cracked, don’t take it, because you don’t know if someone put something in it! …but you know if a “trusted” friend is going to offer them a stick of gum, or a piece of their mentos candy, they are going to EAT IT. Because their friend wouldn’t do that on purpose to them. BUT…what if that friend found the treat on their kitchen counter, or mints on the nightstand…no clue their parent or older sibling brought home drugs.
I guess I’m going to have to show the video to my kids, and tell them don’t eat anything without checking the label first. And look for cannabis in the ingredients or picture of the pot plant. If there’s no package or can’t read it – don’t eat it, as rule of thumb. Like act as if they allergic to peanuts and have to check everything.
Instead of “Wait, does this have nuts?” It’ll be… “Wait, does this have pot?”
I don’t have time to be on here. I’m procrastinating.
We start our journey next Wednesday.
Yet, here I am – to tell you the latest frustration. It’s not enough that I’m trying to work, which is now very busy (and was dead the entire summer), and pack, and figure out our new school, temporary home, mail, sports, and basically new lives…and my daughter has decided among all this…it is her duty to start teenager angst ahead of schedule.
She’s 11, soon to be 12 near the end of the year. And everything is very snippy answer. Did you finish your dinner? YESSSsssss. Mommmm. (sighing heavily)
This morning, I told her that a Gogurt was not a breakfast item and that I picked up her favorite…raspberries to which she told me “I DON’T WANT ANY RASPBERRIES!” (as if I was trying to poison her with her favorite, healthy snack)
I indicated she should eat something healthy before heading to the 99cent store to buy candy for the movie…to which she gritted her teeth and said “Quit correcting me, mom!” And walks out of her room in a huff.
I calmly explained, That’s what we moms do. I can’t stop. It’s our job. To correct our children. To Teach them.
As she prepared to leave the house to meet her friends at the movies, she stepped outside for a moment to gaze at the mysterious dark clouds. I hear the door slam as she marches back in and yells,
“What the heck! It’s SPRINKLING out there! (actually, she drew out the word Spu RIN Kling) Is it going to rain heavily when I’m walking, MOM?”
As if she was accusing me of controlling the weather. I should have responded,
“I do control the weather. And if you don’t start talking more nicely, I’m going to RAIN DOWN cats and dogs on you. One Cloud is going to follow you all over the place. Outdoor AND Indoor, just like that Pink Panther episode!”
Now, I understand and suspect the true origin of “Mother Nature” – started out as a battle between mother and daughter…and the mom bringing down the rain. We’re going to wash (or drown) that nastiness right out of ya.
At first, it looked like any ordinary boulder, until his grandfather began telling the legendary tale of the Rock Monsters. He could see it was the remains of one. Several hikers had passed none-the-wiser. Others had paused to rest, while pondering over the unique gouges, not fully realizing what it was.
Charlie gasped to discover they were not fiction! It wasn’t clear how this particular rock monster had died, but his grandfather noted, there was speculation that during a birthday cave-party, there was an accidental death by gassing, when the candles were blown.
This post was inspired by Sight11’s recent post. I recalled a memory from my youth.
There were a group of us girls that hung out in junior high, about 8 of us. We’d all attend each other’s birthday slumber parties. This particular memory was at Jamie’s house.
Jamie’s dad was a construction worker. They had a unique house that required you to enter through their side gate / side yard to their side door to the kitchen. Their backyard was designed to be the front yard. Where it was fenced and had a pool. No one ever went through the front door, partly because they couldn’t find it, the other primary reason they had a fierce Shar Pei that hung out there. It was mean, and didn’t like anyone. If Jamie was in the room, they would let the dog in and all of us sat there too still, afraid to move. AND it smelled. Badly. The fur was always falling off in chunks and that made it worse. The entire house needed to be aired out. It stunk like stale dog.
So, here we were at her house for her 13th birthday slumber party. Thankfully, the dog was put outside for the night…and when we relaxed, inevitably, someone had to use the potty. One girl came out, embarrassed:
“Um…Jamie, I don’t know how to flush your toilet.”
Water Tank resembled a cuckoo clock
So, I laughed because I had already been given a lesson on that before …construction worker dad / and interior designer mom opted for the tank to be high up on the wall, resembling a cuckoo clock. It had two chimes that hung down. You would grab and pull the wooden handle of the highest lever down, which would make the other lever/chain go up. And then there would be this horrendous WHOOSHING sound – that made you feel you were going to get sucked up in the vortex swirling down the drain. (essentially flushing yourself)
I ran out of there the first time I pulled the lever. AAAAAAGHGHGHGH. Jamie laughed about that for many months.
So, she gave a demonstration to everyone. And they all had startled reactions. Later in the night, in our sleeping bags, Donna pointed out:
“Hey, Jamie. There’s something wrong with your goldfish.”
8 pairs of eyes went to the fish bowl…and the lifeless body floating belly up… I had watched Michelle earlier, feeding the fish, and I suspect she over-fed it, but I kept that thought to myself. We all gathered around THE toilet. Yup. All 8 of us squeezed into the bathroom. As we poured Goldy into the bowl…Jamie was sad, oh. My fish.
…and then, nothing. We all looked at the fish swirling to a stop in the toilet and floating back toward the surface. Each of us kept staring inside the bowl and then at one another…WHO was going to do the DEED? Jamie was too sad to do it herself. The guests were all fearful of the sucking monster ready to roar. I couldn’t stand looking at the poor dead creature any longer, and finally grabbed the handle and yanked…
RAHHHHHHH – and Jamie’s parents watched 8 screaming teenagers pushing each other, stampeding from the bathroom!
Jamie’s dad was a construction worker. They had a unique house that required you to enter through their side gate / side yard to their side door to the kitchen. Their backyard was designed to be the front yard. Where it was fenced and had a pool. No one ever went through the front door, partly because they couldn’t find it, the other primary reason they had a fierce Shar Pei that hung out there. It was mean, and didn’t like anyone. If Jamie was in the room, they would let the dog in and all of us sat there too still, afraid to move. AND it smelled. Badly. The fur was always falling off in chunks and that made it worse. The entire house needed to be aired out. It stunk like stale dog.
8 pairs of eyes went to the fish bowl…and the lifeless body floating belly up… I had watched Michelle earlier, feeding the fish, and I suspect she over-fed it, but I kept that thought to myself. We all gathered around THE toilet. Yup. All 8 of us squeezed into the bathroom. As we poured Goldy into the bowl…Jamie was sad, oh. My fish.
Flip Flops Every day 