When you don't know the answer, just "fudge" it.

I watched in amusement as Lewie practically threw his bowl of mixed veggies across the room after glimpsing a Little Debbie cake sitting on the table in front of him. He was all but screaming "I need that" when I finally pinched him off a bite. It put me in mind to a particular day, when I was nine years old and my mother said that my sister and I could pick out a treat from the rows of confectioneries that lined the grocery store check out. It felt like we'd just won the lottery. Those kind of surprises just didn't come along too often when I was a kid. My parents have always been so loving and accommodating but back then money was tight and spending it on every little whim my sister and I thought we needed was just not something we were indulged in very much. As I stood there perusing all the many choices laid out in neat rows on the shelves, I let my eager fingers brush along the slick, brightly colored wrappers of candy dreams. While my little sister picked something of the hard, fruity candy variety I set my mind on better things like...chocolate. I picked up each bar and carefully held it in my hand checking for the size and general "heaviness" of it, as this would surely give me more to enjoy. With my mom telling me to hurry and make my selection, I finally decided on a classic Hershey's bar and since I was getting this "un-ordinary" chance to splurge I picked out the one with almonds. Boy, I was really living!

My sister opened hers up in the parking lot on the way to the car but I was going to make myself wait. Yes, I was going to enjoy mine in the peace and solitude of my own room where I could savor every morsel without being bothered. Once we got home I quickly made my way to my room, which had been newly renovated from a storage area in our house into my personal haven of bliss. I closed the door, tuned the radio to Casey Kasem's Top 40 Countdown (a Saturday afternoon favorite) and stretched out on my bed with my treasured candy bar in hand. I slowly peeled back the familiar brown wrapper to reveal the shiny silver that enveloped the chocolate. Since Hershey bars are perforated into small bite-sized squares I broke off one piece, anticipating the sweetness, and placed it in my mouth. Oh, what joy as I slowly chewed and swallowed that first piece! I took another block, being careful to only break off one at a time. Mmm, never had there been such a perfect day! Never had a candy bar tasted so sweet! With the sun steaming in through the big picture window that overlooked my elementary school and humming along to the "long distance request" that good ol' sainted Casey had just granted, I glanced down at the deep brown rectangle in my hand and started counting the almond pieces peeking through. One, two, three, ooh look...that one looks like it's moving...four, five, ooh...what? It is moving! I sat up on the side of the bed, staring at the candy in my hand and trying to decide if I should touch the tiny foreign object squirming around. I decided I better go show my mom who was straightening up the kitchen. As she took the candy from my hand, she squinted her eyes and drew it closer to her face so she could really get a good look at the odd looking "nut". Suddenly she said, "Yuck, gross! It's a worm. You can't eat anymore of that. Throw it away." I stood frozen for a moment. What? What did she just say? You mean throw my sacred candy prize away? All of it? Can't I just tear off that block and eat the rest? Mom shook her head "no" and complained that it must have been on the shelf awhile for it to be like that. Now, I wasn't so much concerned that I had just eaten potentially expired chocolate or that, heaven forbid, I might even get sick from it- I was really ticked off. Great, so I get two measly bites out of it and it's over? What was that? How fair is that? I didn't care if I grew two heads and a humpback from tainted chocolate I wanted my mother to be upset about this situation with me. I thought the least she could do was to immediately jump up, drive back to that two-bit grocery store and demand that I be given a new candy bar (and for more vindication, just go ahead and throw another bar in for good measure) But Mom was calm. She apologized for it, not that it was her fault, but said she was not going to go back out just for one little candy bar. But it was my candy bar, my once-in-a-blue-moon candy bar, my special treat. She just looked at me and kinda rolled her eyes at my dramatics (which I was already honing even at the age of nine) and basically told me to "get over it" and offered me a banana as a substitute. A banana? You have got to be kidding! So, with slumped shoulders I lumbered over to the garbage can and sort of hovered the bar over it, not wanting to let it slip into the abyss. That wretched worm! What was it doing in my chocolate? Finally, I closed my eyes, let out a big sigh (so Mom could hear, of course) and dropped the candy in, opening my eyes just in time to see it land with a thud amidst old papers and food rubbish.

Just then my little sister came be-bopping into the kitchen with a sticky smile and the last remaining bits of her sugar choice in her sweaty little hand. Glaring at her and without a another word, I stormed into my room and closed the door behind me. Casey was rambling on about some one's long lost love...blah, blah, blah. Who cares, just play a blasted song already, Casey Blabbermouth! I plopped on my bed and laid there in the sun spot on my bedspread. It was warm and bright and I closed my eyes in irritation and utter disappointment. What an absolutely horrible day! Eventually, I fell asleep there on top of my covers with the radio playing the hits of the day and only awoke when Dad came in to tell me dinner was ready.


Well, life moved on and I got over the whole "candy bar fiasco". There were other "special treat" days. As finances improved and I grew older, my "treats" turned from candy to records (yes, vinyl records - Those were the days!) to an afternoon movie to a surprise shopping trip to the mall. But I never did choose another Hershey's bar with almonds though, not that I suspected them all to be wormy, I just lost my appetite for them after experiencing the other various forms of chocolate; like those with coconut or toffee in them or the richness of dark chocolate, but I digress.

It's funny to think that I once got so worked up over a silly piece of candy. I realize now, that it was really less about the candy and more about the unusualness of the particular day and gift. Those kind of unexpected treats are what make great childhood memories. I see so often with my own kids; like with Lewie today drooling over, what he has already learned in one year of life is something yummy that he doesn't get often, or with my five year old, Charlie, how exciting it is for him when I let him pick out something special at the store; even if it's just a piece of 25 cent gum from a little machine. I know that nowadays I would never get so worked up over a simple candy bar. . .Pa-leeze, never. I'm an adult with adult tastes and I can take or leave those little "Willy Wonka fantasies". Or... can I? I'm really craving a Mounds bar right about now. Hey, where are my car keys?

Dinner Quandary

Mmm...choices!

I found the top menu delight in Athens, GA and I practically had a wreck trying to turn around on Broad Street to get this picture. By the end of the day it had been removed from the sign. Guess they had a run on those bowels. Running bowels, ha ha , that's funny!


I almost missed seeing the bottom offering. I just happened to look up and there it was next door to ol' Mickey D's in Commerce, GA. Never had a sand witch but I hear they are "spellbinding". Ok, ok, enough already!



By the way, both are evidently available at Dairy Queen. I think you might find yourself doing a little "DQ" after you eat these things like asking Dumb Questions about the Delicacies Queer you just ate and finding yourself Doubting Quality of your local eatery.

I know, I know, somebody stop me!

I Guess Babs Needed a Bath

"No!"

Lewie has only been up a few hours and he's heard me say that to him at least 50 times this morning. Over and over I have had to remove my small one from the center of havoc. He's thrown down his cup full of milk about half a dozen times (spill-proof, my foot!), yanked all the covers off of Charlie's bed, haphazardly removed all the articles of clothing from his, evidently not hard to open, drawers and played with antique knick knacks that, unfortunately, are on a shelf that is perfect height for chubby little fingers to get at. He's knocked over the kitchen trash can and eaten bits of dried oatmeal before I can turn around to grab the broom and the damp, white flecks of something all over my bedroom floor is not a strange indoor snowstorm but an indication that Lew has sampled Kleenex this morning, as well. While I took a necessary bathroom break (heaven forbid mother's have to go), he pulled every single, blasted cd off of the very full, blasted cd tower. (Can you tell I am writing this with clenched teeth?) When I arrived on the scene he had broken a DC Talk case, thrown ol' Blue Eyes across the room and was chewing on a Barbra Streisand cd. (Eric would tell me to wash his mouth out, immediately.) Again, I furrowed my brow, shook my head and said sternly, "No, Lewie!". He looked up at me with a kind of "what's the big deal, Mom" look and sort of giggled as he crawled on top of a pile of cds to get to his toybox. Cleaning up this latest mess, I couldn't help but chuckle when I realized what song was on the radio I had playing in my room. It was the 80's tune "I Think I'm in Trouble" by Lindsey Buckingham. Was it Lewie's theme or mine? Funny, very funny!

Over the more than 16 years I've been a "mommy"," mom", "mother", "hey you" to my kids they have certainly heard me say "no" to them. I mean, they have always gotten my utmost love and devotion, as well as, the material things they've needed (and even some they didn't need but just really, really, really wanted) but I have never been afraid to use the "n word". "No, do not throw food. ", "No, do not play with the toilet plunger.", "No, you cannot run away to Chicago." "No, you are not going to have a cell phone, Ipod, plasma screen tv, Wii, indoor pool in your room or an allowance of $50.00 a week." (They really never asked me for those things but just in case they read this, I want to clear the air now.)

I truly believe that children need to know where we draw the line. It is sad when I see parents be bullied by their kids. You can see that they live on the edge all the time. They are afraid to say no to their children either because of" the scene" it may cause or because they don't want their kids to "not be their friend". I figure my children have lots of friends but only one mother. They need my guidance not another "peep" to hang out with.

I think Eric and I have a terrific relationship with our kids and they do ultimately consider us their "friends"; not because we tried hard to be cool but I really think it is because we started setting the bounderies when they were little. From teaching them not to go near the street or put batteries in their mouths to not letting them go to a friend's house because their chores aren't done; "No" means "I love you and want to protect you and help build you into a responsible adult" (sounds sappy, doesn't it?) Sure, it would often be easier to let things slide, no effort, no arguments but my "no" means that I love them too much to let them grow into selfish, prideful, demanding, destructive, lazy people. No one, not even selfish, prideful, demanding, destructive, lazy people like those kind of people.

So...that is why Lewie, even at the tender age of 1, has heard "no" and will continue to hear "no". Now notice, I said he will continue to hear it, not heed it. It is interesting to observe the sinful nature in small children. It's almost comical when Lewie rares back and pitches a fit when I tell him no and remove him from whatever upheaval has occurred. Sometimes I just have to laugh but in the end, I'd rather have him upset with me and safe than delighting in wrongdoing.

Anyway, I've straightened up the trail he left behind and just put him down with his blanket bear and a kiss. He is napping peacefully and I am breathing in the sweet air of calm for the moment. Hmm...I better go to the bathroom while I've got the chance.

Just Call Me Jerry

Well, here I am entering the world of blogging. What am I thinking? I am not a writer. I am not quick-witted and thoughtful like my sister, smart and insightful like my mom or even poetically personal like my dad. Nor am I brilliant like my husband, who does not blog but has been known to write intensely well versed editorials. I don't even think I use the English language well. I fear that my blogs will end up more like a Seinfeld episode about "nothing" and will completely leave the reader scratching their head wondering why they wasted their time on it. I can hear my father's words, now..."You are the example of why NOT to have a blog." Alas, I shall endeavor to trudge (is that even a word?) on, if for no reason other than I like to think I have things to talk about that are interesting and usually only have a toddler to converse with all day and maybe some freak of nature out there will enjoy my "splashes in the stream of consciousness".


Grasshoppers and Guts

My boys have a plethora of insects, spiders, lizards, snakes and even furry mice made of plastic and rubber. It is amazing how real some of them look and feel. Ross and Charlie often delight and excel in leaving those little suckers in various locations around the house so that their poor mother can stumble upon them and almost wet her pants. Whether it be hidden amongst the dirty laundry or positioned so as to appear to be crawling out of the sink or just sitting in the middle of the floor, they never cease to scare the bejeebers out of me. The absolute worst thing is when I think a bug is fake and reach down to move it and it's REAL. Freak out! I do not like bugs or creepy things, real or fake. I am very much the scaredy cat girly-girl when it comes to them. Many a time has Eric, Ross and even Charlie come to my "rescue" and disposed of some creature for me while I teetered on top of a chair.
So, when this morning, after having dropped Charlie off at school, I noticed something moving along the edge of my steering wheel...I immediately went on the alert. Trying to keep driving in the morning traffic and yet watch for whatever it was that I thought I saw was difficult and just as I decided that perhaps I needed a bit more coffee to wake my eyes properly - it landed on my leg!
Immediately, I jumped (well, as best you can sitting behind a steering wheel). Then suddenly it was on the floor. A grasshopper! Now, I could say here that this thing was enormous, a real beast, like the kind of locusts that get radioactive toxic waste spilled on them from outer space and terrorize small towns in those old B movies; but the truth is it was small, okay, very small...but it still creeped me out!
I could see that it probably wouldn't take anything for me to just step on it as it seemed to be a moving in a bit of a stunned way (I mean, he was probably thinking "Hey, this doesn't look like grass.") but although I often want creepy crawlers gotten rid of and I usually don't care how you do it, I don't wanna hear them "crunch" or feel them "pop" under my shoe. Gag! So, I decided to just drive with one leg up and clinch my butt and other leg as if this would somehow keep it at bay until I could get home.
Now, I live about two miles from the school and can get there and return home in about 6 minutes depending on traffic. Today's trip home felt like it took 2 hours! I kept looking down to make sure it was still in one place and once when I realized it wasn't staying put, I thought I might have to pull over and exorcise the van. I was so on edge that when Lewie sneezed once I literally screamed.
Finally my street, my driveway! I turned off the engine and sat there for a moment to formulate my plan of action in exiting the vehicle. Did I want to just leave ol' Hopper there to starve in my van or perhaps, he would lie in wait for me and pounce the next time I got in. Argh, what to do!
Bravely, (yeah, right!) I opened the door, placed my left leg on the pavement and gingerly climbed out. Looking around for something, anything I could use to either nudge him out of the van or at last finish his existence, I found a piece of folded up paper in the door pocket. I reached down to begin the evacuation and "thump" it's on my arm! I start jumping around and shaking like I've got fireants in my underwear. Then it hops up on my shirt making it's way to my neck. I'm completely spinning now! I'm sure my neighbors are thinking I've lost my marbles. Just before I strip my shirt off right there in broad daylight for everyone to see my goodies, this monster flies off. Flies! I forgot grasshoppers can do that. Thank God Almighty this thing did NOT fly around in my van or you just might be visiting me at St. Mary's this morning.
After smoothing my shirt and removing my mussed up hair from my eyes, I composed myself and calmly walked to the sliding van door to carry on with my morning routine of sing-songing to Lewie as I get him out of his car seat. Later, after I've finished feeding him breakfast and he's sweetly playing on the floor, I notice he's got something in his mouth. Since he is just 1 year old this isn't a new thing. So I reached down to get it out of his grasp when I gasp and jump back. Let me tell you, there is something very un-nerving about seeing little green legs hanging out of your baby's mouth. Terrific! He'd found one of Charlie's rubber lizards. Smiling at me with his "little man grin" and giggling as I tug at the toy caught in his tiny teeth, I can't help but think that somehow he knew exactly what was going on during the whole shenanigan in the van this morning and found it delightfully amusing to see his mommy squirm and squeal. I have a feeling that it won't be long before Ross and Charlie invite him into the "Let's Scare Mom Club" and I'm gonna be in big trouble!