Monday, July 30, 2012

Olympic Family Viewing


I was looking forward to getting some Olympic family viewing in, and our first attempt was after little Violet had sacked out; Daisy and I sat down to watch a gymnastics event. I was all warmed up for creating those golden family memories when Daisy turned to me, disappointed, "This is a little more riverdance than gymnastics."


Huh? What is riverdancing to you?


"This." Daisy popped off the couch, "I know! We'll have our own Family Olympics!"


Why does everything have to be So Freaking Complicated with girls? And, I do mean to stereotype.
 
 
I tried to coax her back to the couch...let's just chill and watch a little real Olympics first.


Daisy told me she couldn't because she was jealous. I'm not sure if she meant of the athletes or the announcers because she's kept up a running commentary ever since.


Morning at Family Olympic Headquarters.













 
 
As I was pouring my first cup of coffee, Daisy, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, stood in front of me with her clipboard, "We are going to be starting our raffle soon for the games we're going to be playing today." She followed me to the couch, rattling off instructions and blocking my view of the real Olympics, "We are going to have teams - wait, no, we're not. We're NOT going to have teams but we will form our own teams . . at the end. I'll explain it later, Mom. Mom, sign right here."
 
 
I'm not signing anything.


Without a pause, Daisy turned to her sister coloring at the table, "Violet, sign right here! Let me read it for you . . . contract: you will not throw a fit or hurt any person or object in this room if you get the bronze...because the bronze is not the best. It's not the best, Violet. The bronze is the LEAST best. So, if you get the bronze, you can't throw anything. You can't hurt anyone. And you can't throw a fit. I'd lke you to sign here right now. No pencil . . . Great, thanks!"


Daisy was back, "Mom, what is your favorite color?"


Uh . . . blue.
 
 
"Great, mom..you will be the BLUE ...uh, mom, what's your favorite animal?"


Um...
 
 
"If they're all your favorite and you can't rank them, you can be the shapeshifters. The BLUE shapeshifters. You can even be a human or a magical creature and then you can change into a dolphin . . . or a cow . . . "


Daisy returned to Violet at the table, "Violet! Mom's gonna be a shapeshifter! What are you gonna be? What's your favorite animal?"


"Um, I . . . like . . . koala bears! Because . . .THEY'RE SO CUTE! Especially the baby ones!"


"OK, Violet, you'll be the Baby Koala Bears."


"NO! I LIKE ALL THE ANIMALS!"
 
 
"OK, Violet, YOU'LL be the shapeshifters. And MOM! You'll be the BLUE BOA CONSTRUCTORS! OK? OK, MOM?"
 
 
OK, can I please just drink my coffee in peace now?
 
 
"But mom, can we just do the raffle? We need to do the raffle. MOM!"


Daisy stopped her pacing to perch next to me on the couch for a few beats. I recognized an opening . . . See? This is men's volleyball. This game is really fast.


"Oh."


Well, do you see how big their muscles are? The U.S. guys have bigger muscles than those Serbian guys. Can't you tell?


"Yeah, Mom...in-teres-ting. I really think we should get that raffle started."


Fine. Just let me drink my coffee first.


In a hushed tone, Daisy turned to me to announce,"OK, but the raffle will be starting in 15 minutes!"


Daisy!!!


"FINE!!"


Monday, July 23, 2012

Healthy Home with Lysol




Daisy blew me away a couple weeks ago as I sat on the couch, huddled over my laptop. She began a conversation with,"Mom, when you don't clean, it makes me feel like you don't care about having a healthy home for us." I thought it a sophisticated approach for an eight-year-old and hearing it was like getting creamed in the face with guilt pie.



Later, in our joint counseling session, I acknowledged what Daisy said, complimenting her on being able to articulate her feelings. I admitted I do work too much but that's what I need to do now. I believe things will get easier than they have been, but life is hard work and it's not perfect, and she should continue to speak up. I reminded her we had a great 4th of July trip.The counselor gave us props for our rad mother-daughter communication.



I saw a Lysol commercial today. It sounded strangely familiar. My head whipped around to stare at Daisy, who tried not to smile when she denied it. Yes, thank you, Lysol, for giving my daughter the words to question my ability to maintain a healthy home. It means a lot coming from you.





picture

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Sunday, July 8, 2012

Good 101 Stop


The kids and I were hungry on the way down to Bindy's last week, so we decided to pull off 101 in Greenfield to see what we could find. I've never stopped there before. Greenfield made the news a few years ago for the dad who traded his 14 year old daughter for cash, beer, and meat then called the police when "payment" was not made. All parties involved were from the indigenous Mexican Trique community that has settled in Central California to work farms.



I also know Greenfield by the highway signs that boast meekly, "Restaurants, Automotive Services, and Parks." Really, Greenfield?



We weren't expecting to find a brand new beautiful market of happiness *Rancho San Miguel*.





This picture does not include all the tortilla options.





We passed the long, long meat counter on the way to the hot food area.




The first thing I saw was all day breakfast. WE LOVE ALL DAY BREAKFAST. Why do so many food venues not feature it? Daisy ordered the best breakfast burrito we've ever had for $3.95. I got the daily special - 98 cent tacos (meat of your choice with onions, cilantro and salsa). Very nice.




Violet was in her default rebellion mode and refused to order anything other than a jello cup she later couldn't eat because it wasn't good past the cool whip. However, she redeemed herself by discovering the $3.89 sandwich, chip and cookie combos. On the way back up from Bindy's, Daisy grabbed one. She didn't like the sandwich (the meat was way processed) and chips are chips . . . but the cookie was yum. Not too sweet and big enough to keep her full for the rest of the drive after her mother and sister took their fair share (I got more than Violet).

 



We took our food to go but it was tempting to eat in the shiny indoor seating area, especially because most of our food didn't make it to the car. We sat at an outside table so I could scarf down my tacos while Violet picked at her jello cup and Daisy pouted at a distance, refusing to eat. Can't remember what was wrong that time.







This is a miracle market. Do you see those prices?

 







Violet got a $1.98 piece of cake on our trip back home. Their birthday cakes were so pretty and cheap, I'll be looking for an excuse to pick one up.






The finale was the burrito I brought home for dinner. For about five dollars, we got a chicken burrito made to order big enough to feed all three of us, supposing the kids just went along with the program for once. We also got a medium container of salsa for about $3. Should have taken pics.


Thursday, July 5, 2012

Follow Up






After a a few sparkly days of WOOHOO! with Bindy and Quinn and our lively hookups, I'm flattened on the couch. I dropped the kids at their dad's before coming home to make trip after trip between my car and apartment. A mountain range of belongings extends throughout my living space. Better not move; don't look.



Why not turn away from reality to ponder the countless mysteries generated over the last few days? As always, the answers will come later, when I least expect. For now, let's pinpoint the important questions.


  • How is it possible that Bindy and I so easily embarrass our children, especially when we are so rad? Bindy and I don't make other people embarrassed; they embarrass us.

  • Did Bindy's 79-year-old father learn the word "rager" from us, or did we learn it from him? And, why did he say, "I knew we were going to have a party, but I didn't know it was going to be a rager" while looking at me . . . shortly after I arrived to his party an hour late?

  • Why do white people in Morro Bay throw up so many gang signs?

  • Why don't more motels use real keys these days like they do at the Breakers Motel in Morro Bay? I thought reduce/reuse/recycle was new norm.

  • Why did I put on my reading glasses to read articles on my phone while my friends played pool and talked to new people the only time I went out this trip without children? It's just like when we were younger, except I'm wearing glasses, reading my phone, and content with my clam side.

  • How is it that I never talk to Quinn, but whenever we see each other, she gets it? I wouldn't say she's completely hands off. However, she's more than understanding.

  • Where were the rest of our homegirls? Next time, meet me at the Breakers, biyatches. Bin's dad is primed for his next rager. You're welcome.

Happy Independence