Archive | Laugh

I try hard to spare my brother’s feelings

Filed under Laugh, Life, the lake house by SusieJ on May 13, 2009 at 10:15 am {3 comments}

It takes some courage to call you brother up on the phone and tell him that you found 12 morel mushrooms growing in your yard, and he missed out. Mushrooms the kids spotted while they were out playing; mushrooms we didn’t have to work for. Worse, we didn’t save him a single

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one of the 12 mushrooms. If you find wild mushrooms, growing in the grass, this is big news. Factual information that must be stored and filed away with the other clues that have been passed down in our family for generations. Finding mushrooms is part planning, and part luck. Our generational goal is to eliminate as much of the luck portion out of the equation as possible.

The fact that we found them in the grass, right above the roots of a couple of our oak trees, far away from the traditional “woods,” was information that I was obligated to share. Keep in mind, however, these are trees, at the lake house, that my brother wishes we would chop down. We prefer the shade. For the sake of passing on vital, factual information about the growth habits of mushrooms I had no choice but to tell my brother. Before I made the call, I stalled, and we took the canoe over to the other side of the lake,

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where the haunted house is,

and began looking in that woods for the motherlode of mushrooms.

Besides, I love getting the kids out into the woods for exploration

each spring. Except for the very large deer skeleton, and the very much alive deer that flew past me in a jump, there was not a single mushroom to be found.

A side note on the deer; I was alone at that point, and I heard this very loud swooshing sound. I stood still, and looked, and saw the deer flying past me. If I don’t want to get hit by a deer, I might have to go around wearing Irish Spring soap around my neck just to stay safe.

We were either too late; or too early. Hunts like this, when you leave empty handed, make me ponder how many mushrooms were hiding under a patch of weeds that we missed.

I waited until the weekend was just about peaking at the end to make the call. After I shared the news, my brother was quiet, and speechless. I didn’t know what to say, and so I waited. Slowly, he began talking about his weekend — obviously trying to change the subject. I was kicking myself for being so harsh. I could have waited until the start of next spring to pass on the new facts — then, maybe he could have put the news to good use, salvaged an upcoming weekend and found more mushrooms.

Soon, details about his own weekend began to spill out. My brother had found some mushrooms too. Eighty mushrooms. That’s 80. His buddy found 3,000. I cannot imagine what 3,000 mushrooms growing in the ground would look like. I can’t even fathom the site. He saved me NONE. And I’m the one with six mouths to feed — his wife doesn’t even like mushrooms.

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If you ever do find them, call me. Or fry them, like this. If you find 3,000, freeze them, like this.

My kid is the one who spent $60 at mini-mall

Filed under clean, Laugh, Life by SusieJ on May 8, 2009 at 8:45 am {3 comments}

In the morning before school, I gave two boys $2 each to spend at mini-mall. This year, I have no “sellers” at mini-mall; just buyers. After school, my first grader handed me a plastic baggie, bursting full of one-dollar bills. “Here’s my change from mini-mall,” he said.

“Change?! How can you possibly get this much change from $2?”

“It’s just my change.”

“What did you buy?”

“Some puppy chow, some popcorn, two fuzzy buddies, but I lost them, a bike chain bracelet and some cupcakes.”

“What else?”

“I bought some grass heads, and some flowers for you.”

My thoughts fluttered back to the $60 cash that was sitting on the counter this morning. The cash his brother had earned from raking leaves, which I was going to deposit later that day into his bank account.

“Did you take any money off the counter?”

His silence instantly revealed what I suspected, and feared. As soon as we got home and walked in the door, I scanned the counter for the $60, and I found that the cash was indeed gone.

From that point on, things were a bit blurry. There were lots of lectures, lots of questions, and answers that made me sick to my stomach.

From what I gathered, he has no concept of what a $5 bill truly is. “Did you get your change, your dollars, back when you spent the $5?”

“I got three quarters back.”

This is why we don’t give little boys lots of money like this.

“When you spend a five dollar bill, it’s like five ones; so you get dollars back when you spend a five, just like you got $17 back when you spent a twenty dollar bill.”

He looked dumbfounded — astonished. As if a room that had been darkened his whole life was suddenly illuminated. He had thought, until this moment, that he had turned a profit. He came home with more “bills” than he had left with. Never did it occur to him that perhaps each bill carried a different value; that five 1 bills were the same as one lone 5 dollar bill.

I’m assuming he bought stuff for his friends, he dropped a few bills, and there were many purchases that were eaten before they made their way home. And, of course, he didn’t get his change back on those $5.

I called the mini-mall teacher, who found there was indeed a $12.00 overage, which they were going to give to my son. In addition, out of goodwill, the mini-mall class was each going to contribute $1 each, for a total of $13. Already, he had earned back $25 of the $60; for which I am very grateful. Now, all that was left were chores and allowances to repay the debt. He had $10 in change his piggy bank (actually, it’s a soccer ball bank) and that was quickly converted to debt payment.

Plus, he offered to sell frogs. He added, out of goodwill, that he would also catch some fish and sell those too.

Still, I had another problem; a classic public relations crisis management problem. This is precisely the problem I was trained to handle back in college. His oldest brother, the 7th grader, the one who had earned all the cold hard cash in the first place, wasn’t home yet, and was missing this drama. I wanted it to stay that way.

Mini-mall doesn’t exist at his school; the middle school. This is a shame, because if there’s anybody who would devour a bag of puppy chow, it’s the 7th grade boys. At the rate of their metabolism, they probably need puppy chow, and it’s a crime the food is wasted on the youth; and they would certainly help the profits of mini-mall soar.

I know, the classic textbook “Public Relations Crisis Case” that is required reading and under constant debate in college journalism classrooms, the Tylenol poisonings, revealed that honesty is always the best policy. Let the people know exactly what’s happening, and what you’re doing now to repair things. I know it’s wrong to hide the truth; but I always go for protection when it comes to my kids. When can safely say it’s my weakness as a parent.

“Kids, you need to understand that this is Mom and Dad’s money. Your older brother is under enough stress from school, and he doesn’t need to worry about replacing and earning back this money. Your Mom and Dad will take care of this; he doesn’t need to know. ”

Besides, I didn’t need to give the kid one more reason to hate his younger brother.

An hour later, my 7th grader arrived home. Instantly he spotted the empty baggies on the table, filled with a few minor crumbs from puppy chow. He’s a 7th grader. Food is his passion.

“Who bought puppy chow?”

“You did!” my 4th grader promptly answered.

Short and Sweet

Filed under clean, Laugh, Life by SusieJ on May 6, 2009 at 1:19 pm {4 comments}

“Mom, do you want to know what I’m making for you at school for Mother’s Day?”

“Isn’t it supposed to be a secret?”

“Well, I can tell you, if you really want to know.”

“OK.”

“I’m making you a candle. And I’m writing you a letter.”

“That’s nice. Letters are my favorite.”

“I wrote about how thankful I am that you take care of me, how you feed me, and all kinds of stuff like that. Mine’s a really short letter. Some kids have really LONG letters, but I know you don’t have time to sit around and read all that…so, I just made mine real short.”

“That is AWESOME. I’m sure I’ll savor every word.”

One Kentucky Derby Party

Filed under Laugh, Life by SusieJ on May 2, 2009 at 8:46 am {no comments}

One Kentucky Derby Hat

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Holy Frustration Batman!

Filed under clean, Laugh, memories, Try This by SusieJ on April 29, 2009 at 10:12 am {3 comments}

The trouble with this toy is not its fragility; nor in its impracticality, even given the fact that it will be played with little boy hands that squeeze too hard, and get things, naturally, dirty. The problem with this toy is what it steals from me in quality time. What it gives us in tears and frustration far outweighs the joy this toy is supposed to bring.

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My time with my son is finite. Minutes shared in quality time can somehow, I hope, outlast the ticking of the clock, the speedy flipping of the months in the calendar and the swiftly flowing years.

This book, Batman Collected, built upon Chip Kid’s passion for all things Batman, parallels my own boy’s passion for the caped crusader. With over 100 pages of full-color photos dedicated to the days in 1960 when prime time television showed us Adam West and Bruce Ward fighting off the Penguin and the Joker. There was also a flurry of toy manufacturing going on at the time.

Not just toys; there was Batman Milk, Batman Peanut Butter and Jelly, Batman Candy Cigarettes, and Batman Enriched White Bread. Packaging is all gloriously preserved and displayed in the pages of this book.

This book offers the promise of quality time; time we can spend sitting on the sofa together flipping through pages of a book that he absolutely adores.

This book is already out of print, as I first picked it up around 10 years ago for his older brother, when the Batman Fetish reigned in his heart too; and he dressed as Batman every single day. Then, those hours weren’t spent in the amount of frustration my younger son feels today. If there’s any doubt that God loves diversity, you need to raise only two children to know that he does.

There are pages and pages of vintage Batman toy photos. The Batman Flashlight that illuminates the Batman symbol we see at the beginning of each Batman Episode. Batman and Robin paper dolls, the Executive Desk Set, complete with calendar, pencil sharpener and ink blotter. The stainless steel Batman and Robin spoon and fork, “Holy Chowtime Batman They’re Stainless Too!” There are Batman metal safes, dice, jacks and vintage lunch boxes.

You can see exactly where this is headed. To most of us, we’re delighted to see such a comprehensive collection of vintage toys, preserved and catalogued for our bewilderment on the black museum-like pages. Nevertheless, we are not children; children do not understand the time-space continuum, the importance of manufacturing toys that follow mass production batches, and licenses that prevent the making of toys that do not conform to the Rated-R Dark Knight films of today.

Soon, he starts asking for the doll, the key ring, the thermos and of course, the safe. I want the safe too. It’s very cool and the stainless steel spoon and fork. Our quality time is now frustration time, “Why can’t you get me this stuff?”

Chip must have predicted this reaction; because in the back of the book is a cutout 3-d model plan to make your very own Batman Paper Doll. Is this his attempt to save the day? Probably not, as this toy comes with its own catch, stated in very fine print directly on the toy’s instructions: “Non-Posable Model.”

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However, we are optimistic parents. We actually went to Staples and had 10 extra copies of the instructions printed on cardstock, so that we could make each boy their own non-posable Batman, with some to spare for mistakes in cutting or gluing. We ignored our instincts on this one, the impulse to run and flee.

The cutting is tedious: this one was rejected because it was not cut directly on the line.

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The folds are even more of a nightmare. Once completed, the legs do not stay attached, regardless of whether you are using Super Glue, Gorilla Glue or Elmers. One model takes hours to build, spread out over two or three days of work, with built-in glue-drying times.

The sensible, well-thought out goal of sharing some of our finite time together in a quality way backfired. Especially for Dad, who spent most of the time gluing and folding. Each work session started out in high optimism, relief that “finally you’re gong to make this for me,” and quickly turned sour as the delicate model could barely withstand the gripping required to apply the glue. Wisely, I collected all of the cardboard design sheets, and packed them away in their respective memory boxes; someday we’ll laugh about this.

Of course, that didn’t last long. The Batman design sheets were discovered, and soon, he bravely walked toward me, design sheet and scissors in hand, and asked, “Can You Make This for Me?” No honey, I love you way too much to spend time with you in this way.

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We’ll make cookies together instead.

“Can they be Batman Cookies?”

Of course.

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And Batman can watch.

It’s Friday, and I’ve Earned It

Filed under clean, Laugh, Life by SusieJ on April 24, 2009 at 7:11 am {3 comments}

Friday morning. My feet had not even hit the floor, and they were already screaming.

“What in the world could possibly be wrong ALREADY”?!,” my voice bellowed down the stairs.

“They’re eating ice cream for breakfast,” said the older brother.

My feet hit the floor. I marched down the stairs, ready to do major clean up of the puddles of ice cream that I could just imagine was all over the floor in front of the freezer.

There they were, calmly sitting the table, their bowls full of ice cream, as they scooped up spoonful after spoonful.

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Ice cream for breakfast. Do you really have a problem with that?

Mom, I am so glad you married Dad

Filed under clean, Laugh by SusieJ on April 16, 2009 at 10:04 pm {6 comments}

“Because, if you didn’t, I would look completely different.”

Tell me Three Good Things

Filed under clean, column, Laugh, memories, Try This by SusieJ on April 6, 2009 at 9:14 pm {5 comments}

Every time I ask, they always say, “nothing good happened today.” But, I sit with my pen in hand, notebook open, and I wait. When they realize there’s no getting out of this exercise, they stare at me for awhile, their mind totally blank, and then begin with something like, “I played basketball at recess.” Always in monotone.

I write that down, and I say, “OK, what’s the second thing.” They give me that look: “you’ve got to be kidding.” At this point, they get a little irritated; sometimes angry. I ignore that, taking it for a bluff, and I wait.

And then, their eyes light up, and they get that far-off look and say, “Oh yeah…I ran through the hall today with Max, we were having a race, and we didn’t get caught. Well, Mrs. R saw us, but she just smiled at us and we didn’t get into trouble.” Or, “I’m almost finished with my art project.” Sometimes this is how I learn they wrote a new song during music class; or I discover that their favorite meal is the tomato soup the cook serves on the third Wednesday of every month.

Regardless, I now know something I didn’t know before about each one of them. I didn’t know before that art class is a relief to him. I knew orchestra was bad; but I didn’t know it was that horrible. And, it appears that Mrs. R has a soft spot for the boys.

Meanwhile the boys discover that Monday at school wasn’t such a bad day after all. Gratitude, all the experts keep saying, is the key to happiness, wealth and joy. I’d like my boys to grow into their adult world with those keepsakes in their back pocket. To have an inkling of how to turn a dreary day into a great one; just by remembering what was good.

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Our family gratitude journal is a spiral Superman lined blank book (except for the pages where Spider Man leaps onto the lines) that I originally purchased in November of 2003. At the time, I was busy with a newborn baby and a fussy toddler. I wanted each boy to understand that while I was busy, I cared about what was going on in their lives. The journal was my way of getting them to open up, and worked as a safety valve for me; to prevent me from getting too focused on the baby, at the exclusion of the little things going on in their worlds.

The entries stop around February 2004, and then start up again in June 2004. There are many pages where the handwriting is barely legible, as I was writing with one hand, and nursing the baby with the other arm. The entries are sporadic until December 2004. There are no entries at all in 2005. Only two in 2006, and this one today in 2009. I store the journal in the kitchen tucked on the shelves with the cookbooks.

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I hope I can keep the journal going this time, because looking back through the pages is insightful, funny, confusing and always surprising.

December 17, 2007: Playing Heads Up 7up during indoor recess.

March 13, 2006: Tasted fresh maple syrup for the first time.

February 7, 2007: Favorite time of the day was getting my brother out of his crib this morning. Also happy that there were no dogs out in the yard when I walked home. (I had forgotten about his fleeting fear of dogs. )

January 18, 2006: My Life.

I always try to include entries from Mom and Dad, so that when they’re all grown up and laughing, they’ll laugh even harder when they read that Mom’s favorite thing on November 24, 2003, was that “it’s finally the end of the day.”

June 22, 2004: Running through the dust created when Dad was blowing the driveway with the power leaf blower. (I think that was my parent’s wedding anniversary, but not sure.)

This book is a treasure chest.

When Worlds Collide

Filed under clean, Laugh, Life by SusieJ on March 31, 2009 at 8:05 pm {3 comments}

Below is a screen shot of our family google calendar for Wednesdays from 5-8 pm. This is the result of my prudent effort of allowing my kids only one sport per season:

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