I (heart) Christmas Carols
Now I need to dig in the trash and tape the first box together. It will be recycled... just not in the way I initially expected!
Unfortunately, tissues don't go back into the box as easily as they came out of the box.
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Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Three-Ring Circus
The computer is lecturing me and the little alarms and swirling red lights are heralding the self-scan supervisor that I am attempting to move my purchases into the basket before they are actually purchased. So in my moment of distraction, as I’m trying to get my stuff back into the bagging area to finish paying for my five little items, Blessings #s 3&4 head through the lane and over to look into the little playground.
For customer convenience, Freddy’s offers a child-care center that is provided free of charge for shoppers. Unfortunately the child-care center doesn’t cater to my shopping needs as it isn’t open at 9am. It’s in operation beginning at 10. So my little monkeys have never gotten to play in there... they just get to gawk.
I watch as they as they look through the Plexiglas walls to eye the toys and the slide and all the other exciting things teasing them on the other side. I look back to the screen that is now telling me to hurry up and finish. “Please scan your rewards card. If you do not have a rewards card, please select method of payment. Please scan your rewards card. If you do not have a rewards card, please select method of payment.” I slide my card. Then I look up to see that my Blessings have moved.
B#4 is looking over the little door and then looking to me. I follow her eyes, and I see B#3. But he is no longer looking through the Plexiglas to the toys; he is on the other side of the Plexiglas on the toys. He is climbing up the little ladder, sliding down the little slide, up, down, up, down. Darting from here to there and everywhere. In those five seconds, I think I saw him try out every available toy. He has even opened up the entertainment center doors to inspect the television and video equipment. He is having a BLAST. This is supermarket heaven for a four-year-old!
Monkey Moma: (from 30 feet away) What are you doing in there? You’re not supposed to be in there. Come out!
The cashier lady is standing smack-dab between me and the playground. “I don’t know how he got in there. The door is locked,” she informs me as she stands there completely frozen and just plain bewildered.
It’s pretty obvious to me. I am a mother to a bunch of climbing monkeys, so if he didn’t go over the counter, which he could have done quite easily, then he certainly went over the door... Especially as the door in miniature-sized… it’s probably only two-and-a-half feet tall.
Mouth agape and saucer-eyed, the said employee looks around helplessly for back-up. So mid-checkout, I leave my basket with the cherub sitting in the seat, my purse on the counter, my wallet flopped open, and my credit card resting precariously on top of it all. I am the perfect victim for theft, identity fraud, kidnappinng... you name it. Fortunately 9am isn’t a popular shopping hour at the local Fred Meyer.
I get close enough to where I can make eye contact with the little turkey and know that he can hear me.
MM: Get. Out. Of. There. Right. Now.
B#3: I can’t get out, Moma!
MM: You got in there; you can get out!
I head back to finish paying, as my unattended basket, unattended wallet, and unattended baby are causing some concern. In this half a minute, between the unattendeds and the computer repetitively reminding me to pay for my items, a fellow shopper has informed another employee that I am M.I.A., and that employee is now hurriedly approaching my checkout lane. As she sees me returning, she leaves with a flustered huff and puff. I pay, throw my bags into the basket, and start towards the Plexiglas playground. Soon the store is buzzing with the obnoxious, clamp-your-hands-over-your-ears sound of a loud alarm.
It’s quite the exciting scene now. Saucer Eyes is still standing there in confusion. I’m pulling my kid over the counter and out of the playground. Managers are approaching from different directions to see who has breached security and activated the alarm. Shoppers are staring with curiosity. It’s an all-out circus. I just smile, and we leave, heading out the automatic doors and to our car. As we’re crossing the parking lot, I explain to him that he can’t go in the playground because it’s not open yet and there’s no supervision and it’s against the rules, blah blah blah.
We get in the car, and he turns to B#4.
“Hurry, get your seatbelt on! Go, Moma, go! Let’s get out of here! You drive as fast as you can! What’s that sign say?! How fast can you drive?! Drive that fast, Moma! Go! Before the police come and get me! Go!”
Maybe next time he'll just stand next to me in the checkout line.
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Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Bubble Boy
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Saturday, April 21, 2007
day 14
Here's Matilda...
And Diesel...
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Tuesday, April 17, 2007
In the doghouse
With some hesitation and a definite lack of enthusiasm on their parts, we left the pet area and headed to find all the other things on the list. Fortunately Super Wal-Mart has most everything I needed, so I was able to cover most of my shopping list in the one shopping trip. Unfortunately, I zigzagged through the store because my list was not organized by Wal-Mart aisles.
B#5 soon was ready for a nap and started to squawk and squeal and fuss. I just left him in his seat because the shopping would’ve only taken longer if I had to hold him on one hip, select my groceries with my free hand, and push the cart with the same hand and another hip… all at the same time. So despite the stares of others (obviously concerned with my lack of concern over an unhappy baby… and also obviously annoyed by the tired shrieks leaving the lips of this unhappy baby), he remained where he was… not quite so cheruby anymore!
One of the stockers felt it was necessary to lecture B#s 3 & 4 because “you are not allowed to poke on the food.” First, they weren’t exactly poking. And second, I might have been a little more understanding if we had been in the produce section or the bread aisle. But since we were looking at the packaged deli meat, I didn’t really think it was a big deal if they touched the blocks of ham slices.
When we finally got in line, I specifically chose the lane that was in direct view of the kiddie fun center so while I was paying, the older two could go sit in the fire truck with Bert & Ernie… and wouldn’t be rearranging the candy display. As soon as I had paid, I looked at the receipt and immediately noticed that I had been overcharged on two items (the cat items, of course). So, I mention that I’ve been overcharged, and the cashier bluntly says, “Well, I could fix it here. But my line is long, so just go over to customer service and they can take care of it. Anyways, the line isn’t that long over there.” So, I have to drag my kids off of the yellow tractor and swaying motorcycle to go stand in the isn’t-that-long line at customer service. Evidently I’ve forgotten my eggs at the checkout because the cashier comes and puts them in my cart. “You forgot your eggs.” And she said it with about the same amount of oomph as how it is typed—emotionless, if not annoyed. I smiled and thanked her. She didn’t respond other than to turn and walk away. I would’ve expected that if I had insisted she fix the overcharge errors, but I guess she was just frustrated because she had to leave her register with the long line of more-important customers to bring me my eggs at the fun center... ten feet away.
The lady at customer service didn’t bat an eyelash at the item that rang up for nearly $20 but said $12 at the shelf. She simply refunded the money for it. But the bag of kitten food that was on red-tag clearance for $2.50 was a different story. She gave me the I-don’t-believe-you eyebrow thing, “But that’s over half the price of what it’s ringing up as.” To which I reminded her again that it was on clearance and had a red price tag on the shelf. “But it’s ringing up at $5.68.” To which I reminded her again-again that it was on clearance and had a red price tag on the shelf. More raised eyebrow thing. So I finally say, “You can send someone over there to check it out if you’d like.” She shook her head, sighed, and just gave me my three dollars for it.
My phone alarm starts beeping to remind me that it’s time to head to school to pick up B#2. I drag B#s 3 & 4 from the “hiring center” touch-screen computer where they are applying for jobs. I put B#3 into the other seat in the cart… which reminds B#5 how unhappy he is. He starts squawking again and pushes out his little baby arms to protect his bubble of space.
B#5 is fussing because he wants to be alone.
B#3 is fussing because he has to ride in the cart.
B#4 is fussing because she has to leave the store.
Following a mild form of tantrum throwing-- times three shrieking monkeys-- my knee pushes #3 further into the cart, as I pick up #4 and flop her over my shoulder.
We leave the store. I am calm but frustrated. B#s 3 & 4 get a Monkey Moma lecture because I am disappointed by their behavior. “No Spider-Man video today because you chose to disobey.” More crying.
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Monday, April 09, 2007
Green Eggs and Hamburgers
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Sunday, April 08, 2007
Happy Resurrection Day!
Said He has risen, just as He said
Quickly now, go tell his disciples
That Jesus Christ is no longer dead
Joy to the world, He has risen, hallelujah..."
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Saturday, April 07, 2007
Arrival Announcement
And another boy!
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Thursday, April 05, 2007
Sunny Skies... and black eyes.
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