The Picky Bagger

Dear Sir or Madam, 

It is not in my nature to take a blog post I wrote and send it as a letter of complaint, but it occurred to me that the snarkiness that makes for such a great blog post would so aptly convey my annoyance, that it seemed not only appropriate but necessary.  You see, my mother was in from out of town and offered to watch my kids while I went grocery shopping alone.  This was, in fact, a highlight of my week.  

What should have been a wonderful and gloriously uninterrupted shopping trip was completely ruined by my experience at the checkout.  I understand that I live in a college town and sometimes have limited expectations about the somewhat carefree students who work around town, but my bagger today was a grown man and he was completely useless.

He looked a bit like this too.

Now I freely admit that I am a pretty picky bagger.  Quite a few of your employees may even know me as "The Picky Bagger" lady because I have referred to myself as such on many occasions to many of your cashiers.  I did this job many years ago at a grocery store that did train it's baggers.  I was one of them.  Well, actually I was a cashier, but we were trained in how to appropriately bag groceries because it was part of our job and the people who owned our store were not interested in getting letters like this one.

I could get into the basics of building "walls" in the plastic bags (with boxes) and filling in the "bottom" created between these walls with heavier items, which leaves a space to be filled with lighter and/or more fragile items.  You know, the things that you don't want to be smashed by heavier things?  This isn't rocket science.  It is, however, a concept that escaped my bagger.  Thankfully for me I didn't have an serious "fragiles" like bread or eggs.  I think the worst casualty was a misshapen Lunchable box. Thankfully I stopped him from putting my grapes in the same bag with my extra-large-sized cans of crushed tomatoes because I'm just not into making my own wine.  

I mean, do I seriously have to stop this type of thing from happening?  Do you seriously NOT understand that squishy, juicy grapes do not belong in the same unstructured plastic bag with several 2-pound cans of tomatoes?  Why is this necessary?  Does this guy grocery shop?  Does he own a refrigerator?  Does he utilize toiletries that he purchases and bags in the same bag as his frozen foods? (keep reading)  I mean, he has a paying job and (I assume) dresses himself every morning, which speaks to some level of intelligence.  It is a mystery to me that he cannot determine for himself that these things should not be bagged together.

In one of my bags was a bag of frozen potatoes (please keep in mind the probability of condensation) and a box (of the thin cardboard variety) of pantyliners (please keep in mind the concept of absorbency).  If I have to explain the potential for disaster in this situation you need more help than I can send you in a letter.  I could have bagged everything better with my eyes closed and my one-year-old screaming at me from the cart--which is usually how I accomplish my checkout routine.

Not only were things mixed with other things inappropriately, but my cold items were spread out into many bags and singularly bagged with a bagfuls of non-cold items.  This, despite the fact that I pretty handily arranged them on the belt in groups: cold items, health & beauty items, meat, produce and grocery.  It SHOULD have been easy to keep the items together and to bag them TOGETHER.  Obviously it would make them easier to put away when I get home--which is important to me even if it's not the ultimate goal of the bagger--but more importantly it can aid in food safety by keeping cold items grouped together and the non-food/health & beauty items away from the other food items.  Oh yeah, and it also would have been COMMON SENSE to do so.

And just for the record, I have had the same experience with the college kids, and with old ladies who work there.  Little old ladies!  And to top it all off, someone from your company called me many months ago to take a customer satisfaction survey and this was the very thing I spoke to that person about.  The ONLY complaint I had.  Clearly, my advice was not heeded.  

Well if you didn't hear me before, please hear me now:  TRAIN YOUR BAGGERS!  

Sincerely,

The Picky Bagger

Read More »

Moo's Got Talent! I Got Nothin'.

Disclaimer 1:  I really hate disclaimers at the beginning of blog posts.
Disclaimer 2:  I wrote this post months ago and felt so terrible that I couldn't publish it.  However, in the interests of trying to post more frequently, cleaning out my drafts and being honest here, I have decided to kick this baby out of the nest.

Tonight I live up to my blog name.  Tonight I was ultra, crappy-ass, NOT-super-mom.  At bedtime Moo says "You know America's Got Talent auditions are coming to our area, right?"  Uh, no, but thanks for the info??  Actually I said exactly--nothing.

I had no idea what to say.  How can I explain to my somewhat shy and fairly intelligent daughter that this is just not something that she needs to partake in.  And furthermore, WHY?!?!? (I scream in my head) do I even NEED to explain to her that it is just completely outside of the realm of possibility that she would ever be on that show?!?  I know, I know, crappy-ass, not-so-super mom here, (remember what you're reading). I should be encouraging and finding ways to fire up her imagination and--I just couldn't do it.  I didn't have the patience or the imagination myself to come up with anything that wasn't precisely just shitty.  Shitty.  

I was like, "I really don't want to discourage you, but you do understand that these people are competing for a show in Las Vegas, right?  I mean, they are doing magic and acrobatics and laser shows." (Sometimes all in the same act.)  Moo, "Yeah, I know.  That's why I have to come up with something really amazing."  I should be proud, I really should, but I just find it stupefying that she thinks she can do anything that would get here near that show.  And I feel like a crappy-ass super dream-crusher.  

Here's the irony of it all--I was a theatre major in college.  I should be the one encouraging her yearnings to perform and finding an outlet for some of her dream-chasing.  We did do a Christmas play last year and I did sign her up for Stage Camp this summer.  But I am also living in East Bumblestick PA.  Not the Big Apple, not LA.  I did not move to the city so many moons ago, because I was not ambitious or driven enough to chase those dreams myself.  My degree is in Technical Theater because that was the "practical" choice, but even the "practical" choices in Theater are really still require a drive and ambition I just don't seem to possess.

........

I still feel guilty reading this.  What I should possess is the selflessness and encouragement of a mother who wants her child to dream big dreams and follow them, but that feels a little foolish and, well, impractical.  I want to be encouraging and inspiring but usually my more realistic side wins.

And honestly I feel like it's a daily battle when Disney and Nickelodeon try to make these child stars seem so down-to-earth and real to our kids.  I mean, of course they are real people, but their lives are not "real" in the grand scheme of our daily living.  It is just NOT typical to have a successful acting/singing career in your tween and teen years.  They would not have our children think so.  It's like something else you can simply choose to do, like joining the soccer team or playing an instrument.  THAT is what bothers me.  Are those kids talented?  Sure. (Mostly, I think.)  But I don't think those companies/networks properly convey how unique their lifestyles are.  This is why American Idol has weeks of "audition" episodes--because anyone and everyone thinks they can just do it because they want to.  Not necessarily because they are talented enough and/or trained hard enough to do so.

And anyway, that's entirely NOT the tangent on which I wanted to fly off.  My whole point here is that I feel like an abysmal failure as a mother, to not be lifting up my wonderful daughter on a cloud of her dreams when all I can think about is that clouds aren't solid and she'll likely come crashing through and down to the ground sooner rather than later.

And the fact is I think she is so truly wonderful.  She is very smart, gets along well in school, plays clarinet like a boss (which is simply amazing to me since I can't read music to save my life--I may as well be reading Chinese) and she is a Girl Scout (and a much better one than I was).  She's even in another play right now.  She is AWESOME. I am amazingly proud of her.  And there are no acrobatics, magic or laser shows that can beat that.

Read More »

My Girl

This is why I never wanted girls.  So long ago I used to say that when I had kids I wanted all boys.  I had hoped to never have girls.  Ages 9 to 12. This is why.  I remember feeling awkward with myself and uninvited to my life.  How could I possibly offer her anything helpful in these strange years?

Dear Moo,

Why is this so hard to tell you?  Why is it so difficult for me to tell you that YOU are what should matter the most to you.  Maybe it just sounds cheesy or maybe you feel like I would say anything because I am your mom.  That is so not the truth.  I mean, I would say a lot of things, but that doesn't make any of them untrue.

1. You are beautiful.  Warm brown eyes sitting above those squishy, kissable cheeks.  And those feckles are my favorite.  But to me, that stuff is just obvious.  
2. You have a funky and fearless sense of style.  Please, don't EVER compromise it.  I clearly remember wanting to wear some crazy stuff that I was just too chicken to try.  You wear it all and you wear it well--with hair to match.  Hang on to that courage and uniqueness, they will serve you well later in life.  
3. You are an amazing big sister.  You are fun and silly and it is so clear that you love your brother and baby sister--and they love you so much.  
4. You are so smart and so responsible.  Don't EVER get bored with that. 
5. You are so caring--CARE ABOUT YOU FIRST.  Don't confuse putting your self first with putting yourself above others, but please never let them make you feel like less.

This is one of those things that is almost impossible for you to comprehend.  If other girls want to try to make you feel bad, remember, it's just because they feel bad about themselves and it makes them feel better to try and put others beneath them.  You are a better person than that.  It is so difficult at your age for you to see that these girls won't matter to you in ten years.  At all.  Don't let them matter now.  Don't let their insecurities become yours.  Don't give them that kind of control.  

You have so much to offer everyone:  as a daughter, a sibling, a friend, a schoolmate, a student and a responsible young lady and citizen.  It is surprising to think about all the "roles" you fill everyday.  That is a lot for anyone, but remember the first and most important thing to be is just yourself.  You're eleven--be happy, have fun, be responsible for yourself and don't stress out about things and people you have no control over.  

The most important thing I need to tell you is that I love you.  You are my first baby, my "big experiment" as I used to joke.  (So far it's going well, I think.)  You make me proud everyday.  You are beautiful, and smarter than I ever imagined and so hard-working in the things you do.  You remind me of me in so many ways--hopefully the right ones.  I need to tell you that I think about these things everyday--I think about what an incredible person you are growing up to be.  I hope and pray every day that you are proud of you too, that you know how incredible you are, and that you never let anyone make you doubt that.   

I love you, love you, love you, my Moo.

Love, Mommy  

Read More »

The Sugar (Part 2) - Diabetes is an Asshole

If you just found this, you may want to start with this: The Sugar (Part 1)

It was probably a blessing that we found out on Trick-or-Treat night.  If we had taken Moo trick-or-treating and then let her have one or two pieces of candy (pretty usual for us) she could have gone into a Diabetic ketoacidosis, which is a serious condition that occurs when the body cannot breakdown blood glucose for energy and instead breaks down fat (this is what makes the Atkins diet work).  Breaking down fat produces ketones which are poisonous to the body in large amounts (this is what makes the Atkins diet potentially dangerous).

Her blood sugar had been so high for so long that there is no telling what would have pushed her over the edge from "functional" to something life-threatening.  Normal blood sugar should range between 70 and 100.  Moo's was over 500.  They tested it several times at the Emergency Room because they couldn't believe she wasn't acting loopy or having any issues functioning relatively normally--given her height and weight.  She is pretty tall and thin for her age and was even more so than she should have been at the time; she hadn't really put much weight on the previous year due to her body burning fat for energy, instead of glucose.  

Sometimes high blood sugar, or hyperglycemia, along with extreme thirst and blurry vision can cause confusion.  They eventually surmised that her body had learned to adjust to it's prolonged hyperglycemic state.

We stayed in the ER for a few hours before they sent us up to a room.  One thing the hospital was pretty good about was making sure that you were comfortable with the day-to-day bullshit before they sent you home with The Sugar.  In other words:  we were in for a few days, at least.  I spent less time "learning" what to do with her when she was a newborn--with less experience and more to do.

As it turns out, the Sarge and I are a pretty good team.  He (being a firefighter/EMT) was very comfortable with the medical stuff, and I (being a dork and really good at math) was excellent at computing insulin-to-carbohydrate ratios in my head so that we didn't overdose our kid on insulin or jack her blood sugar up with too many carbs.  It's basically a big numbers game, only the numbers change constantly, so you can't just skate by at any given meal.  You gotta check the blood glucose level and crunch the numbers. EVERY. TIME.

Don't ever think you got it figured out, because then you'll get some wonky blood glucose reading or you'll count your carbs wrong and you're whole "system" is fucked up.  It sucks, and the whole time The Sugar is just giving you the finger and na-na-na-boo-booing you.  That's what it feels like anyway.  Diabetes is an asshole.

~Part 3~

(Let me say here that this was and still is our experience.  Moo is not on a pump--so we check the BG, dial up her dose on her insulin pen and give her a shot.  There are other ways and means that we have not explored yet.  Please do not bombard me with comments [haha, as if I have people slamming this blog with comments. allow me my moment of delusion...] about continuous glucose monitors, pumps and artificial pancreases.  We'll get to that shit in our own good time, but thanks for the info.)

Read More »

I won! I won!

Ok, relax, it's a Liebster Award.  If you don't know what a Liebster Award is, you probably haven't read a blog that has less than 8 million followers any time recently. And you are missing out--there are some funny bitches out there.

I will do my best to do it justice, while still preserving my own needs for satisfying my curiosity about things and laziness.  I am extremely lazy--almost to the point of seriously considering changing my blog name to Confessions of a Super Lazy-Assed Mom.  Although I guess I wasn’t too lazy to have looked into this Liebster thingy. 

Liebster is a German word that means kindest, dearest, lovely, pleasant, valued, endearing, and welcome (among other things); and this award is given to bloggers with less than 200 (originally 3,000) followers who deserve more recognition.
Here are the current rules:

• Post 11 random things about yourself
• Answer 11 questions from your "benefactor"
• Create 11 questions for those you will pass the award on to
• Pass the award on to 11 new bloggers and let them know it.
• No tag backs.

Somewhere along the line the "rules" of this award have morphed. The original rules were:

• Post the award on your blog.
• Thank your Liebster Blog Award presenter on your blog.
• Link back to the blogger who awarded you.
• Give your top 5 picks for the award.
• Inform your picks by leaving a comment on their blogs.

Notice there is no mention of the "11 random things about yourself" rule and the number of bloggers you need to pick is noticeably smaller. Needless to say, I am partial to the original rules as they seem much less excessive and so much more attractive to my laziness.

Now, I did just receive this award a few days ago from Amy of The Terrible Threes.  HUGE thanks to her!  She's freakin' funny and has a pretty unique and totally cool style of blogging.  Definitely check it out.  

I have to admit, however, I would be a complete and total ass if I did not acknowledge Duchess Pandora who originally bestowed this upon me back in November.  Not just a fellow writer in the blogosphere, I know this woman in real life and she is pretty cool.  She’s a DOer.  Mama gets shit DONE (unlike me, who took over two months just to respond to my first Liebster. #bloggingFAIL). 

Both are deserving of the shout-out and in the interest of fairness I will answer some of both sets of questions.  And since there are so many, I don’t think that 11 random things about me are necessary.  These questions are random enough.

From Amy:

·         If you could be one classic TV character, who would it be? How far back are we going with “classic?” I’ll go with Maude.

·         What inspires you? Somedays, nothing; but most days, my kids. If your kids don’t make you want to be a better person every day, you’re doing something wrong. Corny and true.

·         If you could switch gender for one day (other than furiously masturbate) what would you do? Pee standing up.  I want to know how truly difficult it is to get it in the bowl.

·         What is the funniest thing that has ever happened to you? Funny-strange? Funny-HaHa? I’ll go with funny-bizarre.  I worked for an extremely well-off family and was a nanny for three kids. Not exactly funny, but bizarre because you wouldn’t believe what money could buy (Neil Armstrong’s spacesuit) and what it couldn’t (A LOT).

·         What’s your go-to junk food item? ICE CREAM. But I really don’t consider it junk food. It’s Dairy.  Look it up.

·         What is your favorite film? It’s a tie—The Wizard of Oz and The Breakfast Club.

·         When is the last time you drew something? (Penis doodles count) Yesterday.  My current specialty is crayon drawings of and with my toddler.

·         Who would you be afraid to meet in a dark alley? Steve Buscemi’s teeth

·         Can you fit your whole fist in your mouth? Huh?

·         What is the dumbest thing you have ever done? (It was trying to fit your fist in your mouth, wasn’t it?) Absolutely.  I’ll just go with that.

From Duchess:

• Do you believe in astrology? Yes, to some degree.
• Tylenol, Advil or Aleve...what do you turn to to cure a headache? Advil. No contest.
• How old would you be if you could be any age? Sixteen.
• What is the most exotic food that you have ever eaten? Probably a tie between truffles and pate and I hated both.  Apparently I have “beer taste”, which bodes well for my “beer pocketbook.”
• Have you ever gone Black Friday shopping? Never. I worked MANY a Black Friday.  I don’t get it.
• What do you keep in the trunk of your car? Always a random bag of something. Frequently something that needs to be returned to a store or clothes of my kids that I am passing on to someone else.
• What was your nickname as a child? I had many:  Annie, Jane (neither of which are my name), Monkey Doodle, China Girl. 
• What is your homepage for your Internet browser? My gmail account.<yawn>

So, onto my picks.  I have no idea how many followers these people really have.   I just like them, so check them out.  They’re absolutely worth your time.  And I don’t have questions for them.  Their writing speaks volumes.

·        Mediocrates at How Did I Get Here?  - Buckle up because Mama has been on one wild ride and she’s taking you along.  It’s best if you start at the beginning.  And allow yourself some time—you won’t stop until you’re caught up.

·         Sue at Diapers or Wine? - Don’t let the homeschooling-mother of 5 thing throw you. Sue is a fellow Jersey girl who juggles a lot of balls but doesn’t seem afraid to throw one when necessary.  Think fast.

·         Janel at 649point133.com – Janel might have a million followers already, and if she doesn’t she should.  You will laugh, you will cry, you will pee yourself. (I did.) Don’t miss Turdageddon.  Bring the Depends.

·         Bad Playdate – Anonymous for a reason.  Consider yourself lucky if you don’t have the opportunity to go on a playdate with her.  You will surely do something stupid, and she will blog about it.

·         Melissa at Am I Doing Anything Right? – Let me assure you, she is.  She can write a mean list.  Definitely check out this gem.  Take notes.  And bring some chocolate Teddy Grahams.

Read More »

The Geel - Ketchup With Us #10

My first time "Ketching up" so here goes....

Michele at Old Dog New Tits and Mel at According to Mags post a prompt, pic or video every 1st and 15th of the month.  This is #10, and the prompt is to write about something that you go head to head with every day.  No.  Contest.  That would be The Geel.  

Aaaaaand, you have to write it in 57 words or less. LOVE it!  (I proclaim myself a minimalist at heart--The Sarge would laugh at that one.)  Anyway, here's mine:

-----------------------------------------------

Every day:  head to head,

As soon as this girl is out of bed.

Clever and funny; my pride and joy.

(Can’t believe I had wanted a boy)

Too smart and ornery, but lucky she’s cute.

Worst thing is, she’s not even 2!

Her-way or the highway, you can’t tell her.

Headstrong and determined.  That’s my girl! 

-----------------------------------------------

Read More »

This is motherhood.

The other night I was getting The Geel into her pajamas when she grabbed a comb and insisting on combing my hair.  I sat obediently on the floor and watched her concentrated expression as she tried to "tame my tresses," which are so short she basically just kept shoving the comb into my hair, twisting it around and yanking it straight up.  I just stared at her face and a million thoughts ran through my head:  how I hadn't really wanted her, how I had to teach myself to stop thinking about what should have been, how I tell her constantly "I love you" in what began as an effort to convince myself that I really felt it MORE THAN I felt like we made a huge mistake, how I can't imagine my life without her even though that was not the case for a long time, how she is SO sweet and loving and clever and embodies joy.  Every.  Day.  I found myself crying.

I cried that cry that comes over you when you feel the unbridled and overwhelming love of parenthood.  I cried that there were days that I denied myself that feeling for her and I cried that I can finally, honestly say that I no longer think about the life we would be living without her.  Somewhere along the line, I have discovered that there is no "we" or "us" without her.

Now, I don't mean to cheapen this moment, because it was (for me) somewhat profound.  I had spent a lot of days thinking about the things we would be doing if The Geel wasn't here; and to be still for a moment, watching her just be and realizing that I couldn't remember the last time I'd had those thoughts, was a pretty big moment for me.  But the reason the title of this post came to mind was what happened in the next moment.

I wiped my eyes, took the comb from her and pulled her to me to hug and squeeze this beautiful little creature that had just unwittingly overwhelmed me.  And then I was unwittingly overwhelmed by something entirely different:  the stench emanating from her rear.  While it was obvious what the issue was, it occurred to me that while I was basking in this motherly glow, crying simultaneously with small regret and great joy, that my gorgeous, wonderful, joyous baby girl was simultaneously combing my hair and dropping a deuce.  I found myself laughing.

For The Geel, it was just another moment in her day filled with snacks and sippy cups, whining and tears, toys and baby dolls, giggles and silliness, and many, many hugs and kisses.  Nothing profound or momentous  for her--just something to do, something to explore.  A comb.  Mommy's hair.  Another dirty diaper along the way.  Babyhood.

And so this is motherhood:  Overwhelmed by something profound, then the moment passes.  Overwhelmed by something so much more pedestrian but requiring no less attention--and as that moment passed I was simply thankful that I had stopped to let her comb my hair before I had changed her diaper and put on her pajamas.

Read More »