Aldi In A Day's Work

We went to Aldi today to get groceries. If you've never been, their prices are great but the experience is.....not.  There are no luxuries. Food is displayed in the boxes it came in, the unlabeled aisles are crowded, you have to pay for bags if you don't bring your own, and you bag your own cart (which you have to rent for a quarter, by the way). There is no deli, bakery, or pharmacy. You don't go to Aldi looking for cardamoms, wheat germ, or organic grass fed beef.  You get your staples and you get out of there. 

So today it seemed like a good idea to take The Boy to Aldi. He was covered in a Pig Pen-esq small cloud of dirt and had a runny nose and a stained shirt, evidence of his playdate with his 3 year old cousin this afternoon:

This is unrelated to the story, but The Boy tries to mimic everything his cousin does. Even peeing outside. He has no clue what's going on here, but he wants in on the action. 

As we navigated the small and crowded store he refused to have any item sit in the front of the cart with him yet he wanted to hold each one. So I'd put some fruit snacks in the back of the cart, he'd yell "ehhhhh!" which means "I'd like to see that with my hands, please"and then he'd try to open them OR narrate the contents of the box "Appul..... appul..... appul..... appul..... appul." This would continue until he'd had enough and threw the box on the floor, or until I'd had enough and threw it in the cart. Some items snuck past this process, but each of the cold ones had to be inspected, announced "DOLD!" and then inventoried in the cart. He also loudly announced (often erroneously) the items we were passing. Turkeys were balls, anything canned was a bean, and all fruit were apples. If he wasn't sure about what something was he'd just yell out "dat" aka "that". We got lots of fresh veggies, good cheese, and salad dressing to make a nice salad for dinner. I don't do meat, and The Husband wouldn't go for just a salad for dinner, so his would feature fried chicken tenders on top.  

You can imagine how delightful this type of trip is. I turned my head to grab something off the shelf and a stranger said to me "that is SO cute!" I turned back around and The Boy was sitting in the cart with a box on his head. He stayed like that for a whole aisle, and peeked through to make sure people were impressed. They were. 

The O.J. has apparently been granted a reprieve. 

We were in the long line to check out and someone was getting very impatient and began fussing. A nice employee appeared from nowhere and opened a new lane for us. I was very appreciative. As I was putting my items on the conveyer belt a lady stood behind my cart and held on to the handlebar. Right where my kid was. TOO CLOSE. In my head I started calling her the CLOSEr. I pulled the cart forward from the back. Then, as I was still unloading my cart full of groceries, she started to put her food on the belt too. They were both racing toward the cashier when the CLOSEr picked up one of the stick dividers and THREW IT THROUGH THE AIR to land between our food on the belt. She was talking to The Boy the whole time, and he was largely ignoring her. "It's okay if you're being shy with me today," she said like they were old army buddies. Not only was I creeped out, I also had no where to put the rest of my groceries. Hers were taking up the whole conveyer belt and I wasn't finished unloading. I had to hand each of my remaining items over the register to the cashier. Meanwhile, the CLOSEr was telling The Boy that she'd purchased more than she'd really meant to. Giggle! Twi. Light. Zone. In my fight to get my food on the conveyer belt I'd forgotten to purchase bags. The cashier rang up all my food and was putting it, unbagged, in another cart. All this just for a good salad? 

Now, I've misplaced my debit card  I'm between debit cards, so I had to write a check like it's 1993 I've been using this as an opportunity to teach The Boy about checks. As I was making out my check the CLOSEr was right up on me, breathing her breath on me, and no doubt trying to steal my identity.  As I was writing the check she said "today's the 26th" even though I did not ask her the date. It's as if she wanted us to be those conjoined twins from TLC who operate one body from two heads. I did not tell her thank you. 

I finished my transaction and was assessing my situation: my kid and bag in one cart, with another cart filled with food. I was trying to push them both forward so I could consolidate when the CLOSEr edged me out. What is it with this woman? She bid The Boy farewell and told him that he was very funny. Afraid of a potential Amber Alert, I scooped my kid and my bag into my arms and held them both as I pushed the other cart outside. The Boy wanted to help, so I held him while he pushed the cart. I was doing the parental secret steer even while I juggled everything so he wouldn't steer us into a car. Then he said "beaut!....beaut!.....beaut!" I kept pushing. He turned to face me and said "beaut!!" with a sense of urgency. I looked around to see what he was telling me, and saw his boot had fallen off and had been abandoned in the parking lot. Beaut = boot. 

We went back for the boot. I loaded The Boy in the car. He wanted his ball. When I stood in the back seat to look for it I fell onto The Boy and his seat, which caused him to laugh hysterically. I nursed my wounds and went back to the cart to unload my unbagged food into my car. Somehow bread and chips ended up on the bottom with milk and juice on top. Obviously I'm not cut out for this. I found a bag of homemade chex mix in the back and tore into it. We went home to unload and start dinner. See this post for what that usually looks like at my house. 

I chopped vegetables (or as my south american college roommate would say "bedgetables") and got all the salad fixings ready. Then, as I went to pull the chicken tenders out of the freezer I couldn't find them. Hmmm. Someone must've eaten them all, and I should've checked before we went to the store. I combed the freezer for another suitable replacement. Surely there's something. This would just have to do. 

When the Husband came home:

Husband: Hey hon. How was your day? 

Husband (to the boy): Whoa! You are disgusting!

Boy: Da-da. 

Me: Good. 

Husband: What's for dinner? 

Me: This delicious salad with fresh veggies! 

Husband raises eyebrows. 

Me: Don't worry, yours also has................................dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets on top! 

How's that for delicious? And he ate every bite. 

Quadruple Thanksgiving

If you've seen the movie Four Christmases you'll appreciate our plight during the holidays. We're lucky enough to live within driving distance to most of our family, which means we're expected to make the rounds to everyone at thanksgiving. We had four meals in four towns in two days and as usual, it was great but CRAZY.

Here are some highlights:

Thanksgiving #1: Our house. 

We let The Boy sit at and eat from the big table in a statement of unity and family togetherness. Note the food smeared all over the table. Oh, and he's shirtless. 

When he kicked himself back from the table repeatedly he was relegated back to his high chair. Note he is now eating off the bottom of his plate. Martha Stewart has never seen the likes of this, not even in prison. She would, however, appreciate our fall centerpiece, which The Boy climbed onto the table to get more than once. 

As the only child present, The Boy wanted to make sure that all our guests were watching his antics. 

Thanksgiving #2. The Husband's Grandmother's House

The Husband is one of 18 first cousins (20 if you count step-cousins) so there are a ton of people at his grandmother's house and a ton of kids. The Boy wandered about, playing with his cousins and generally trying to escape from any adult supervision. There were children strewn all about and stacked 2 high. 

This night also included a night truck ride through the pasture for the kids. The cousins loaded up in the back, and when The Boy wouldn't sit down in the truck bed he went to the cab and drove with The Husband. Who apparently was asleep. 

Thanksgiving #3. Mother-in-law's house. 

My M-I-L's house features Victorian furniture and antique china in cabinets throughout the house. And also my toddler wielding a ball, a strong arm, and a crazy aim. Add in two 3 year olds, an infant, and The Boy's same age twin cousin who has the energy to match his. That combination makes for some close calls and nervous parents.

We were serenaded to the musical stylings of The Twin Cousins. Their music sounds a lot like when a cat runs across your piano. Being chased by a squirrel. Who has a hammer on his tail. 

Thanksgiving #4. My Dad's house. 

Here he was the only child again, an opportunity which he didn't let pass him by.  The Boy spent his evening kissin the family dog, River, on the lips. 

And he instituted the first annual Onion Toss event, which he won. 

After all that celebrating we were exhausted. And so blessed! 

On Sunday we recovered at home and put up the Christmas tree. 

Shirtless again, perhaps we are starting a holiday tradition. 

Preparing for Parenthood: Cooking Dinner

Welcome to our second installment of Preparing for Parenthood. Today we will cover preparing dinner for your family when you are a parent. Remember, this is not a tutorial claiming how to be a good parent. It's simply an exercise to prepare you for life on the other side. Once you've completed this exercise you'll be ready to cook dinner with a kid at home. You may need to practice a few times before you get the hang of it. What are you kidding? Eat in peace while you've still got the chance!

There are two variations of this exercise. If you're preparing to be the parent of a baby you'll need a bag of flour and an orange. If you're preparing to parent a toddler you'll need to assemble a string of tin cans tied to a roomba vacuum set to warp speed, or you could just borrow someone's actual kid. Mine is available, let's set up some sort of sign up sheet. No matter which version you're trying, you'll need to start at approximately 4:30pm.

For the baby version: place the bag of flour awkwardly on your hip. You'll need to place the orange precariously atop the flour and secure it loosely with one piece of floss. This will replicate your baby's floppy head and limp neck. If at any point during the dinner preparation your orange falls off, you'll have to start over. It's okay! This is only practice. Prepare dinner as usual. Do not drop the flour, do not let the orange fall off, do not allow the flour to get wet or remotely close to anything hot, and do not put the flour down. Do everything one handed.

For the toddler version: Start out with the toddler on your hip. You can't cook in this messy kitchen! Begin to sweep but abandon that when the baby won't let go of the broom. Begin measuring your ingredients with the measuring cup as far away from you as possible, so they don't fall prey to baby swipes. This works best if you have your hip and butt jutted way out into the middle of the kitchen. Once baby figures out he can't reach anything with you in this position he'll want to get down. He'll squirm and lunge stoveward just as your water begins to boil. Catch him before he lands in the boiling water and place him on the ground. He'll say "wun!" and run. This is where you'll turn on the roomba if you're using it.

As long as the kid is happy and not bleeding, you can ignore him for a few minutes while you chop vegetables. Do this quickly, as you don't know how much time you have. Allow the child to pull the pots and pans out of the cabinets, throw magnets on the floor and dance around the kitchen. Catch him just as he pours the dog's water all over the flour. Tell the dog to clean the floor as you pull the kid's hands out of his mouth to clean them. Your kitchen will look like this:

See the video from my last post if you're curious what this dance looks like

Once you've cleaned up the kid and the floor, you'll realize the beans are burning. Go to check on them and give them a little stir. While you're here, check the chicken and re-set the timer. During that time, the kid will have wandered away. You have to find him. He's pulled every toy he owns out of the cabinet in the living room and he's yelling "bump! bump!" as he jumps on the couch. Tell him no, and put him on the floor. This will start a meltdown of epic proportions.  He'll feel so betrayed and devastated that the only thing he can do is put his head under the couch cushion and weep dramatically. 

The oven timer will go off, so you'll need to take your quinoa out of the oven. (Yes, you'll cook quinoa when you're a parent.) Abandon the crying baby and the messy living room and go get the quinoa. You've scorched the beans so you'll have to determine if they can be salvaged. The quinoa is ready, the beans are burnt, the chicken is raw in the middle, and the peas haven't been opened yet. It's time to triage: ignore the first two and deal with the second two.  Oh, but wait! What about the baby? He's stopped crying and is quiet. Yay! He's feeling better. But where is he? Do a visual sweep of the room. You found him. He was squatting beside the unswept lunch remnants, licking the dog door, with a bottle of paprika in his hand.  At that point you'll also notice that the dog has taken a box of tampons outside and scattered them in the yard. Indifferent, you'll leave those there for now. 

Scoop up the kid against his will. Hold him while he fights to get down as you answer the phone. It's your partner. "I have to work the day after Thanksgiving" he/she says. That seems like a long time from now. You accidentally talk loud because you can't hear over the baby's protests to get down. "BUT WHAT ABOUT TONIGHT? ARE YOU COMING HOME TONIGHT?!" you ask, exasperated. He/she confirms that he is, indeed, leaving in a few minutes. Whew! 

Alas, you've still got cooking to complete. You decide you'll turn on Sesame Street to entertain the boy, but you can't find the right remote that gets you to Netflix. Search for it to no avail while the kid pulls more stuff onto the floor. He'll have to watch real tv. You find the regular remote but the only thing on PBS is the show about real animals that he's really too young for. Maybe it'll last for a few minutes, but if you leave him in the living room he's bound to jump on the couch again. Hold him on your hip as you angle the tv toward the kitchen. Drag the high chair into viewing distance and plop him in. 

At this moment you become the parent you always said you'd never be. Toss a toy onto the high chair tray, scoop some burnt green beans beside the toy, and walk back into the kitchen to finish dinner. It is 6:00. 

Moments later your partner walks in. He/she surveys the huge mess of toys all over the living room, then the pots and pans in the kitchen floor. That will be met by dog water on the floor, and the aroma of quinoa, chicken, and burnt beans. The microwave timer will be sounding as music plays from PBS. The child, ever an angel, will smile broadly at him/her and reach out for a hug. 

Your sweet little family will sit down to a dinner of tough chicken, burnt beans, bland quinoa, and cold black eyed peas. The baby will throw much of his on the floor, where the dog patiently awaits. Your partner will turn to you with lies in his eyes but kindness in his heart and tell you that dinner is delicious. Then he/she will stoop down to give you a kiss, but you'll respond with "I almost forgot! I've got to get the tampons out of the back yard before it rains!"

Story Time = Rock Concert for Toddlers

Sometimes we go to toddler story time at the library on my days off.  It helps to break up the monotony stimulate The Boy's brain, develop social skills, and create an appreciation for culture. It's a wild free for all where the kids go wild and the parents sit back, and boy is it a trip. Basically it's a lot like going to a rock concert with a bunch of drunk people:

There's singing. There's dancing. There's that one guy at the front who's dancing to his own beat, oblivious to what the rest of the crowd is doing. There are people falling down and running into things. New friendships are forged based on the pure awesomeness of today's good vibes. As the show progresses, there are guys in various stages of undress. You'll probably see some PDA.

My kid is in the green hoodie. The kid beside him is a stranger. Boy on the right is getting fresh. 

The leader is a crazy cat lady looking hippie with hair down past her butt. She's super fake excited about boats and monsters and whatever today's theme is. She has songs and motions and cargo pants. Kids rush the stage. They'd crowd surf if only they knew how. She has to ask them to sit down and remember the safety of others. These rebels do neither!

Having a toddler is like being a DD all the time. You're expected to be the more responsible between the two of you. You're expected to get your person home in one piece. You're expected to keep up with his coat and bottle and bag. You follow behind him picking up the trail of debris he left behind in his public angry outburst. You're expected to point him in the right direction when he runs into the table, and you are almost always discouraged from escalating the situation when he gets into a fight with a stranger. You apologize to the other DDs on his behalf when he steps on a finger or pushes past someone, and they nod and smile like it ain't no thing, because their little drunk person barely noticed. You can all smile and laugh in unison when your person geeks out to a particularly moving rendition of Skinnamarinkee Dinkey Doo, because man, that's the jam.

Preparing for Parenthood: Co-sleeping

Y'all! Blogspot tells me that this blog has had more than 8,000 hits from people in 10 countries. Crazy, huh?! Like Sally Field, "you like me- you really like me!" I'm no expert at parenting since I've just had this one kid for this one year, but since you're reading I'm going to do a series on preparing to be a parent. People always say nothing can prepare you to be a parent. That's not true. I'm going to give you real world experiential activities to prepare you to be a parent, one issue at a time. Today we tackle co-sleeping.

There are many advocates of co-sleeping that preach its many benefits. I'm not one of them.  I used to be on our local child fatality review board and was traumatized from the high incidence of co-sleeping related infant deaths that we staffed on that committee. I said I'd never let my kid sleep with me. After night feedings we always returned him to his bed. We let him learn to self soothe and fall asleep on his own. When he woke up in the night we patted his back and put him back in his crib.

But eventually, you have a sick kid, or you go on vacation, or you've got a teething toddler, and no matter what your theoretical approach to sleep, that kid WILL sleep in your bed. This post is to prepare you for those nights. By following this fool proof method, you'll know what it's like to co-sleep in just ONE NIGHT!

To fully get the co-sleeping experience, you're going to need your partner and another friend to help. Have your friend come in and place a bunch of dog bones and ink pens under your fitted sheet. As you and your partner sleep, the bones will jab into you at awkward angles and the pens will stab you in the night. This will simulate anytime your child is still during the night. If you rearrange your body so as to not touch any of the bones, your friend will begin to cry.

You'll also need a cantaloupe or other melon with a rough surface. As you and your partner sleep on the dog bones, have your friend roll the melon around in the bed. Make sure he or she takes careful precautions to rub it with force against your bare skin, creating friction burns. This simulates the baby bulldozing his head into you as he changes positions. This should occur between each transition throughout the night.

Somewhere about 11pm place a heavy duty spring between you and your partner. Sleep this way, being pushed apart so that you have to hold on to the sides of the bed. At midnight have your friend replace the spring with one of those small, bottom weighted punching bag toys. Have it bounce upright and sign "thirsty." Lay it down, only to have it bounce back up and sign thirsty again. Do this 7 times. Then get up and fix it a sippy cup of milk. Spill some milk in the bed.

Around 2 am have your friend roll the melon off the bed onto your floor. This simulates the baby falling off the bed in the night, and should be followed by a 20 minute recording of a hyena giving birth.  Babies seem to think that beds are round, like the earth, so they will be shocked and hurt that they could fall off the edge. It's like a reverse Christopher Columbus. You and your partner should both wake up, turn on the light, and search the screaming melon for bruising. You may take this opportunity to blame each if you have the energy.

Replace the melon back in the bed. When you've finally drifted back to sleep have your friend take a 20 pound bag of sugar and wedge it between you and your partner. The sugar should be approximately 100 degrees. Have it rotate every thirty minutes like the handle of a faulty jack in the box.  At 3:00 am the jack in the box will pop and scare you out of your slumber. Have your friend place the sugar on top of your chest. Sleep that way for the next hour. Anytime you try to gently roll to your side and lay the sugar on the bed, have your friend frantically pull your hair and grasp at your face. At this point you'll wonder how people who co-sleep every night ever have the opportunity to make any additional children.

At 5:00 am have your friend sit the sugar up straight with the cantaloup balancing on top. Begin to play the hyena recording again. At this point your partner will need to sit up, search for the remote, and find Curious George on netflix. You and your partner will go back to sleep, leaving the sugar sitting upright in the bed between you. Right now you're judging. This is how it will go, I promise. The sugar will eventually fall over onto your partner's arm, where it will stay until his/her arm falls asleep. Carefully, carefully, help your partner pull his/her arm out from under the sugar like a highly sensitive booby trap.

As you lay crucially still on the dog bones with the hot sugar on your arm, pens digging into you, the cantaloupe pressing into your face, the scent of sour milk in your nose and Curious George playing in the back ground, you will eventually fall back asleep. Fifteen minutes later your alarm will go off telling you to get up for the day. You will notice your baby sleeping peacefully.