Oh Meme, Oh My. ..

I’ve been a bad, bad girl.

I haven’t been keeping up with my memes, which are sort of like mini-homework assignments in the blogging world. So, since I made my daughter begin school on Labor Day (on a holiday?!? why, yes; she must labor!), I will tackle two memes that have been gathering dust in the blogger folder.

This first one is called “The Five Things Meme” (thank you for the tag, Whirlwind).

Name 5 things in your refrigerator:
1. Insulin for Zack, the 15-year-old cat with diabetes;
2. Thyroid medicine for Cally, the 16-year-old cat with hyperthyroidism;
3. Silk Chocolate Soy Milk for Belly, the 6-year-old with a milk allergy;
4. Ticket’s Tapioca Pudding by Echo Farm for me, the 40-year-old with an obsession;
5. Two dozen eggs purchased weekly from a family we know that raises chickens.

Name 5 things in your closet (I’m assuming this means literally):
1. Several non-leather shoes and boots;
2.
This coat I found at Target for under forty bucks. I thought it was tres cute, but worry it may be too “young”. Thoughts?
3. Exercise clothes, silk teddies and ski wear—three things that don’t see much light of day anymore;

4. My engagement ring: a plastic yellow rose that Fairly Odd Father gave to me when he proposed. He actually wasn’t being cheap; I had told him I did not want an engagement ring (and, this was not some head game; I meant it). The ring broke within 24 hours, but he glued it back together and it was eventually woven into my bouquet for our wedding;
5. A piece of driftwood we found while camping at Meat Cove, Nova Scotia. FOF wrote this on it: “Love is not just looking at each other, it’s looking in the same direction.”

5 things in your purse or backpack
1. An epi pen, just in case Belly has an allergic reaction to milk;
2. A tiny lucky pendant called “Green Man”; his face has almost worn away after years of banging against my coins;
3. Urban Decay’s XXX Shine Gloss in “Love Junkie”, a color I adore;
4. Dark Chocolate-covered Altoids;
5. This photo of the family, taken 2 years ago:

5 things in your car (it is all about being prepared)
1. Diapers and wipes;
2. Portable Potty (best $20 I’ve ever spent);
3. Changes of clothes for the kids, extra items for Jilly who can’t be ‘wet’;
4. Band aids;
5. Eastern MA street map.

5 things in the world you want to see before you die (I started to get really philosophical about the things I want to see before I die, but I think I’m just supposed to list some cool places I want to visit):
1. The Hawaiian Islands;
2. Iceland;
3. Europe: the whole shebang;
4. The Israel described by Robin here;
5. Australia.

——————————-

Then, Robin tagged me for a new meme about eight things that drive me crazy.

Doncha Just Hate It When”:

* . . . a car pulls out in front of you, then go v—e—r—y—-v—e—r—y—–s—l—o—w—l—y;

* . . .a request is met with eye rolls and sighs;

* . . .someone walk outs of the room while you’re talking, but still insists, “I’m Listening!”;

* . . .a neighbor’s house or car alarm goes off while they are on vacation;

*. . .a friend blames everything that happens to their child on someone or something else, without even considering that their child could be in the wrong;

*. . .that nice, new, white shirt already has a stain on it—usually front & center;

*. . .a child thinks it is important to wake up several times a night to give you a hug and a kiss, to ask the time, and to tell you her finger hurts;

*. . .after all the kids are finally snapped into their car seats, the car keys disappear. . .again.

How We’ve Become "That" Family

Kristen over at Motherhood Uncensored posted a funny and honest column on how they’ve become “that” family—-you know, the one that gets the glances, the frowns, the whispers. She asked for people to comment on how they’ve become “that” family.

I’ve decided to tell a story here:

It was early 2005, one weekend afternoon. I decided that the girls needed dress shoes for Easter. Fairly Odd Father also needed to go to the store, so we decided to take the entire family (that would include a newborn son, a two-year old daughter and a four-year old daughter).

We went to a local mall which is a little crappy, but has a good, cheap shoe store inside; perfect for those dressy Easter shoes they wear once. Once inside the store, though, I knew we had made a mistake.

A mistake because it was too late in the day, too close to dinner. The selection at the store was poor, probably because everyone else had done their Easter-shoe shopping weeks earlier.

Our oldest daughter was looking at shoes, not really understanding that just because a shoe is in the rack doesn’t mean that shoe is in her size. She pulled down a pair of tiny, glittery heels and announced, “I want these”.

“I’m sorry, honey, those aren’t your size. They only have these”, (point to a few lame shoes, none meeting her expectations).

“I want THESE”. Her face got set into that look that made Fairly Odd Father and I glance at each other with an “Oh Shit” message in our eyes.

We started to strap our 2-year-old daughter back into the stroller, and gather the winter coats and shoes that were strewn across the floor. Our son was sleeping peacefully in a separate stroller.

For a few minutes there was much negotiation. With that going nowhere fast, Fairly Odd Father scooped up our now-crying daughter and brought her to one of the benches outside of the store to try to calm her down.

I was left with two strollers which I somehow got out of the store. Seeing and hearing that my husband was getting nowhere with our oldest, I decided to try to steer the two strollers toward the exit.

By now, her screams were echoing off the walls of the mall. When I say she was having a full-blown fit, I mean to say that this was a FULL-BLOWN FIT.

I turned a corner by the exit and waited for the screams to get closer. FOF had daughter slung over his shoulder as he tried to keep from getting kicked in the face.

I noticed a security guard walking next to him.

At the exit, FOF quickly laid our daughter’s coat on the floor and plopped her on top of it. Somehow, he was able to get her into her coat. At this point, I saw the security guard squat down next to us and look from FOF’s face, to mine, to our daughter’s, to the other two kids in the stroller.

I figured he was waiting to see if we’d lose our temper and start slugging her. However, FOF realized that the security guard was actually trying to figure out if we were together, or if FOF was actually stealing some child from the mall. I almost laughed, because, if there was one child to steal from the mall, this was most certainly NOT the one anyone would want.

Fortunately, in this case, our kids are all little “mini-me’s” of FOF and I. Security let us go without comment. I’m sure we had quite a few people watching us at this point.

The cold air hit our daughter’s face like a slap. She quieted down almost immediately and was chatting calmly by the time we drove out of the parking lot.

FOF and I, on the other hand, were wrecks. Nothing like a simple family outing to age you 10 years.

How We’ve Become “That” Family

Kristen over at Motherhood Uncensored posted a funny and honest column on how they’ve become “that” family—-you know, the one that gets the glances, the frowns, the whispers. She asked for people to comment on how they’ve become “that” family.

I’ve decided to tell a story here:

It was early 2005, one weekend afternoon. I decided that the girls needed dress shoes for Easter. Fairly Odd Father also needed to go to the store, so we decided to take the entire family (that would include a newborn son, a two-year old daughter and a four-year old daughter).

We went to a local mall which is a little crappy, but has a good, cheap shoe store inside; perfect for those dressy Easter shoes they wear once. Once inside the store, though, I knew we had made a mistake.

A mistake because it was too late in the day, too close to dinner. The selection at the store was poor, probably because everyone else had done their Easter-shoe shopping weeks earlier.

Our oldest daughter was looking at shoes, not really understanding that just because a shoe is in the rack doesn’t mean that shoe is in her size. She pulled down a pair of tiny, glittery heels and announced, “I want these”.

“I’m sorry, honey, those aren’t your size. They only have these”, (point to a few lame shoes, none meeting her expectations).

“I want THESE”. Her face got set into that look that made Fairly Odd Father and I glance at each other with an “Oh Shit” message in our eyes.

We started to strap our 2-year-old daughter back into the stroller, and gather the winter coats and shoes that were strewn across the floor. Our son was sleeping peacefully in a separate stroller.

For a few minutes there was much negotiation. With that going nowhere fast, Fairly Odd Father scooped up our now-crying daughter and brought her to one of the benches outside of the store to try to calm her down.

I was left with two strollers which I somehow got out of the store. Seeing and hearing that my husband was getting nowhere with our oldest, I decided to try to steer the two strollers toward the exit.

By now, her screams were echoing off the walls of the mall. When I say she was having a full-blown fit, I mean to say that this was a FULL-BLOWN FIT.

I turned a corner by the exit and waited for the screams to get closer. FOF had daughter slung over his shoulder as he tried to keep from getting kicked in the face.

I noticed a security guard walking next to him.

At the exit, FOF quickly laid our daughter’s coat on the floor and plopped her on top of it. Somehow, he was able to get her into her coat. At this point, I saw the security guard squat down next to us and look from FOF’s face, to mine, to our daughter’s, to the other two kids in the stroller.

I figured he was waiting to see if we’d lose our temper and start slugging her. However, FOF realized that the security guard was actually trying to figure out if we were together, or if FOF was actually stealing some child from the mall. I almost laughed, because, if there was one child to steal from the mall, this was most certainly NOT the one anyone would want.

Fortunately, in this case, our kids are all little “mini-me’s” of FOF and I. Security let us go without comment. I’m sure we had quite a few people watching us at this point.

The cold air hit our daughter’s face like a slap. She quieted down almost immediately and was chatting calmly by the time we drove out of the parking lot.

FOF and I, on the other hand, were wrecks. Nothing like a simple family outing to age you 10 years.