So, if you happened to go into a T-Mobile store today and heard the 2 young salespeople snickering about the middle-aged woman who had just left? That would have been me. Because I just couldn't take it anymore. I had bought one of their cellphones a couple of months ago, and I couldn't figure out how to work it for the life of me. It was one of the most basic models, too. No camera, no anything....
Feeling desperate, I marched in there today and demanded a tutorial on the basics. Like how to turn it on on my first try. How to adjust the volume on the ringer. How to figure out where to get a ringtone. How to find out how many minutes I had left (we use a prepaid plan). The girl took it from me and started punching buttons. "Whoa, missy!" I yelled. (Okay, I didn't say "missy.") "I can't tell what you're doing! How did you get that?"
"Well," she said, "you just sort of mess around with it and you figure it out."
"I've been messing around with it for 2 months and I've figured out nothing," I told her. "Start with the phonebook. How do I find it? And how do I delete stuff?" So, with me badgering her the entire time, she managed to show me a few basic functions. Then, while she rang up my purchase of a second phone (yes, I'm stupid), I bothered the salesguy at the other counter with some more questions.
"Look," he said, "you just have to mess around with it when you're bored, and you'll figure it out."
Bored?
"Listen," I told him, "I have 6 kids. I'm never bored. And I don't use this phone often enough to remember what I did from one time to the next."
"Really?" he asked, staring at me as if I had just emerged from the jungles of New Guinea.
I decided to hit him with all I've got. "Really. These one thousand minutes I'm buying for the year? I won't run out."
Upon hearing this, he looked stunned. Confused. Completely out of his element. I could tell he wanted me to just go away.
So I did.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Thursday, May 29, 2008
To-Do List
Google Search of the Day: "teenage girl in poopy diapers"
Maybe I won't complain about my teen daughter Anna anymore. At least she's potty trained, right?
In case you wonder what I do all day:
1. Get up (very important, but much harder than it looks)
2. Shower and dress
3. Check blogs (also very important, though I don't know why)
4. Feed children breakfast so they'll stop whining
5. Remember that we have to do our yearly standardized tests.
6. Look for standardized tests, always a time-consuming activity.
7. Inflict said tests on 2 little boys.
8. Check blogs again (why not?)
9. Cast on for the first of a pair of socks (3rd try, due to needle size and gauge issues). Completing these socks has become a point of honor. I will finish them or die trying.
10. Feed children lunch early, as my dental appointment is at 12:45 on June 4th.
11. Realize that today is not June 4th. I've spent the entire morning dreading a root canal that is not happening for another week.
12. Check blogs (because I can).
13. Go to garden with kids. Water things. Dig up some humongo weeds. Wonder just how much our garden plot neighbors hate us.
14. Reward the kids with McDonald's sundaes (they finished this year's math). Susie gets one, too. She says, "Now I don't have to poop in the potty to have ice cream!" Back to square one on toilet training, apparently.
15. Prep dinner.
16. Check blogs (don't want to miss anything).
17. Take all 3 girls to Payless Shoes so Anna can find appropriate footwear for her Easter/recital dress. Shoes are found, thanks be to God. Anna smiles and laughs on the way home. Will miracles never cease?
16. Take little girls to playground. Try to knit while there. Yeah, right.
17. Drive Theo to bus. Realize for the first time that he has started shaving. The world suddenly reverses its direction of rotation. Concentrate on breathing. In. Out. In. Out.
18. Cook dinner. I hate dinner.
19. Feed family. Minor crisis because Larry mistakenly bought watermelon with seeds in it. Gaaah! Much wailing and gnashing of teeth ensues.
20. Clean pots, bathe children, quickly, quickly. Must. Go. To. Knit. Night.
Pretty impressive, right? Now you know why I get paid the big bucks...
Maybe I won't complain about my teen daughter Anna anymore. At least she's potty trained, right?
In case you wonder what I do all day:
1. Get up (very important, but much harder than it looks)
2. Shower and dress
3. Check blogs (also very important, though I don't know why)
4. Feed children breakfast so they'll stop whining
5. Remember that we have to do our yearly standardized tests.
6. Look for standardized tests, always a time-consuming activity.
7. Inflict said tests on 2 little boys.
8. Check blogs again (why not?)
9. Cast on for the first of a pair of socks (3rd try, due to needle size and gauge issues). Completing these socks has become a point of honor. I will finish them or die trying.
10. Feed children lunch early, as my dental appointment is at 12:45 on June 4th.
11. Realize that today is not June 4th. I've spent the entire morning dreading a root canal that is not happening for another week.
12. Check blogs (because I can).
13. Go to garden with kids. Water things. Dig up some humongo weeds. Wonder just how much our garden plot neighbors hate us.
14. Reward the kids with McDonald's sundaes (they finished this year's math). Susie gets one, too. She says, "Now I don't have to poop in the potty to have ice cream!" Back to square one on toilet training, apparently.
15. Prep dinner.
16. Check blogs (don't want to miss anything).
17. Take all 3 girls to Payless Shoes so Anna can find appropriate footwear for her Easter/recital dress. Shoes are found, thanks be to God. Anna smiles and laughs on the way home. Will miracles never cease?
16. Take little girls to playground. Try to knit while there. Yeah, right.
17. Drive Theo to bus. Realize for the first time that he has started shaving. The world suddenly reverses its direction of rotation. Concentrate on breathing. In. Out. In. Out.
18. Cook dinner. I hate dinner.
19. Feed family. Minor crisis because Larry mistakenly bought watermelon with seeds in it. Gaaah! Much wailing and gnashing of teeth ensues.
20. Clean pots, bathe children, quickly, quickly. Must. Go. To. Knit. Night.
Pretty impressive, right? Now you know why I get paid the big bucks...
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Mona Lisa Smile
To the person who found my blog after googling "my sister and her friends like to dress me up in diapers," I would like to say that I most emphatically cannot help you. Please - go away. Thank you.
Is he gone? Good. Back to our regularly scheduled programming...
I've been spending my evening trying to figure out Kindle. Luddite though I am, I am determined to stay abreast of whatever technological wave is cresting, all the while mixing my metaphors madly as I go. So far, all that I've figured out is that it costs one heck of a lot of money, and then I still have to pay for the books to download to it. I could pay a lot of library fines with that sort of dough.
[Whaddaya mean, Luddites don't have blogs? This one does. I can't work the DVD player, I can't work my cellphone, I can't work my microwave, for heaven's sake - but I do blog. I'm a little leery of electric toothbrushes, also; but that is another story.]
This evening Anna asked if we could look for different shoes for the dress we bought her for Easter that she refused to wear (even though she picked it out). Bummer - I was just about to E-bay it. So I took her to Target and we didn't find shoes that were satisfactory and I could feel her hot, angry breath on my neck all the way out of the store. The silence in the car on the way home was deafening. I spent the ride recalling how fun it used to be to have Anna in the car with me, chatting away about whatever it was she was looking forward to at that particular moment. She was the type of person who would get up and treat each day like a present to be opened. Does growing up require a girl to lose a perfectly pleasant temperament? I can't remember. Maybe I should ask my mother. Odds are, though, she would refuse to answer me, all the while smiling like the lovely lady to the right.
That's okay - she'll have waited 30 years for that moment; I'll let her enjoy it.
Is he gone? Good. Back to our regularly scheduled programming...
I've been spending my evening trying to figure out Kindle. Luddite though I am, I am determined to stay abreast of whatever technological wave is cresting, all the while mixing my metaphors madly as I go. So far, all that I've figured out is that it costs one heck of a lot of money, and then I still have to pay for the books to download to it. I could pay a lot of library fines with that sort of dough.
[Whaddaya mean, Luddites don't have blogs? This one does. I can't work the DVD player, I can't work my cellphone, I can't work my microwave, for heaven's sake - but I do blog. I'm a little leery of electric toothbrushes, also; but that is another story.]
This evening Anna asked if we could look for different shoes for the dress we bought her for Easter that she refused to wear (even though she picked it out). Bummer - I was just about to E-bay it. So I took her to Target and we didn't find shoes that were satisfactory and I could feel her hot, angry breath on my neck all the way out of the store. The silence in the car on the way home was deafening. I spent the ride recalling how fun it used to be to have Anna in the car with me, chatting away about whatever it was she was looking forward to at that particular moment. She was the type of person who would get up and treat each day like a present to be opened. Does growing up require a girl to lose a perfectly pleasant temperament? I can't remember. Maybe I should ask my mother. Odds are, though, she would refuse to answer me, all the while smiling like the lovely lady to the right.
That's okay - she'll have waited 30 years for that moment; I'll let her enjoy it.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
The Seasons, They Go 'Round and 'Round
First pool visit of 2008 today! If my kids ever express doubt that I love them and would do anything for them, I will point out that - against my better judgment - I don a swimsuit and venture out in public for their sakes each and every summer. Yes, I am willing to undergo public humiliation just so that they can have some good childhood memories. Our pool, by the way, is super-fantastic - the baby pool is a splash pool that goes all the way to 3 feet deep, so all the non-swimmers are happy; there's a sandpit for the little ones to dig in when they are sick of the water; and there is lots of shade and trees. I love our pool! I just hate the public humiliation part.
That said, sitting there today reminded me how much time has gone by since I first became a mother (16 and a half years, but who's counting?). Obviously, this pool is a magnet for the younger-kids crowd; and "younger kids" usually means younger (read, less jaded) mothers. All I could think as I sat there eavesdropping on their conversations was "Did I used to sound like that?"
That said, sitting there today reminded me how much time has gone by since I first became a mother (16 and a half years, but who's counting?). Obviously, this pool is a magnet for the younger-kids crowd; and "younger kids" usually means younger (read, less jaded) mothers. All I could think as I sat there eavesdropping on their conversations was "Did I used to sound like that?"
Language Development in Mothers
Young and sweet mothers: "Would you like the lemon ice or the strawberry ice, sweetie?"
Old and tired mothers: "If you're going to fuss about getting lemon again, I'll eat that Italian ice myself."
Young and sweet: "Use your walking feet!"
Old and tired: "Stop running or the lifeguard will kick you out for the rest of the summer."
Young and sweet: "Tell that boy you don't want to share your shovel."
Old and tired: "Stop crying over a one-dollar toy, for heaven's sake, or I'll give you something to cry about!"
Young and sweet: "Use your words!"
Old and tired: "Please, for the love of God, stop talking!"
Young and sweet: "Do you want me to play with you in the pool?"
Old and tired: "Did they fill this thing with ice cubes this morning? Go play - I have a magazine to read."
Young and sweet: "I'm glad I wore my bikini - it's a great tanning day."
Old and tired: "God bless the person who invented the super-spandex tankini with the skirted bottom. Once I get that leg-vein surgery, I'll be all set."
Enjoy! It all goes by too fast!
Old and tired mothers: "If you're going to fuss about getting lemon again, I'll eat that Italian ice myself."
Young and sweet: "Use your walking feet!"
Old and tired: "Stop running or the lifeguard will kick you out for the rest of the summer."
Young and sweet: "Tell that boy you don't want to share your shovel."
Old and tired: "Stop crying over a one-dollar toy, for heaven's sake, or I'll give you something to cry about!"
Young and sweet: "Use your words!"
Old and tired: "Please, for the love of God, stop talking!"
Young and sweet: "Do you want me to play with you in the pool?"
Old and tired: "Did they fill this thing with ice cubes this morning? Go play - I have a magazine to read."
Young and sweet: "I'm glad I wore my bikini - it's a great tanning day."
Enjoy! It all goes by too fast!
Monday, May 26, 2008
Of Books and Birthdays and BBQ's
Neva4getme has won my first (and maybe last) ever giveaway! Please contact me with your address so that my friend/secret agent can mail you Jen Singer's book You're a Good Mom from a location that is not here. The winner is due with her second baby any minute, so this can double as a new baby gift. Yes, I am cheap.
Things have finally quieted down here at the old blogstead, now that all the people Dawn and Sue sent over have finished checking me out (and, um, didn't come back). I'll admit it - it was exciting to feel so popular for a couple of days. Sort of like when the cool girls in high school let you sit at their lunch table for a bit, you know? For a few glorious days, you felt as if you were cool and beautiful and interesting to talk to... I mean, so what if they pretended you didn't exist the week after that?
Or was that just me that that sort of thing happened to?
Never mind. If you look at the sidebar to the left there, you'll see that yet another number has turned over. Yes, Susie is now 3 years old. I don't know how I am going to manage without a 2-year-old in the house. I mean, I'll no longer have an excuse for my sloppy housekeeping and half-hearted attempts at meal preparation. I might even be expected to keep up on laundry. The pressure! The pressure!
I got creative with Susie's birthday cake and added some mashed strawberries to the batter in lieu of some of the liquid. My friends, do not try this at home. I thought the strawberries would turn the cake pink; but instead it came out sort of brown, as if I had used whole wheat flour. The kids, of course, wolfed it down anyway, as it was covered in totally-bad-for-you lard-and-sugar frosting; but it wasn't one of my finest culinary moments.
We then made the kids walk a mile to David's Boy Scout troop's BBQ. They were having a pig roast. Rachel was rather disturbingly fascinated by the fact that she could see the pig's head. I expect to see our neighbors' pet rabbits lying on our grill doused in barbecue sauce any day now.
Larry and I figured out that we saved approximately 40 cents on gasoline by making the kids walk to the BBQ and back. Add to that the 40 cents I saved on Thursday by walking with the kids to their dental appointments, and...well...we've got 80 cents to put in the fund for the new shoes the kids are going to need if we keep making them walk everywhere.
Take that, global warming!
Things have finally quieted down here at the old blogstead, now that all the people Dawn and Sue sent over have finished checking me out (and, um, didn't come back). I'll admit it - it was exciting to feel so popular for a couple of days. Sort of like when the cool girls in high school let you sit at their lunch table for a bit, you know? For a few glorious days, you felt as if you were cool and beautiful and interesting to talk to... I mean, so what if they pretended you didn't exist the week after that?
Or was that just me that that sort of thing happened to?
Never mind. If you look at the sidebar to the left there, you'll see that yet another number has turned over. Yes, Susie is now 3 years old. I don't know how I am going to manage without a 2-year-old in the house. I mean, I'll no longer have an excuse for my sloppy housekeeping and half-hearted attempts at meal preparation. I might even be expected to keep up on laundry. The pressure! The pressure!
I got creative with Susie's birthday cake and added some mashed strawberries to the batter in lieu of some of the liquid. My friends, do not try this at home. I thought the strawberries would turn the cake pink; but instead it came out sort of brown, as if I had used whole wheat flour. The kids, of course, wolfed it down anyway, as it was covered in totally-bad-for-you lard-and-sugar frosting; but it wasn't one of my finest culinary moments.
We then made the kids walk a mile to David's Boy Scout troop's BBQ. They were having a pig roast. Rachel was rather disturbingly fascinated by the fact that she could see the pig's head. I expect to see our neighbors' pet rabbits lying on our grill doused in barbecue sauce any day now.
Larry and I figured out that we saved approximately 40 cents on gasoline by making the kids walk to the BBQ and back. Add to that the 40 cents I saved on Thursday by walking with the kids to their dental appointments, and...well...we've got 80 cents to put in the fund for the new shoes the kids are going to need if we keep making them walk everywhere.
Take that, global warming!
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