A few days ago both Wees 3 and 4 were napping. For a moment I was stunned by this co-incidence of sleep patterns and forced myself to go outside and look for some sort of odd planetary alignment. Once I confirmed that aliens weren't coming to invade northern Georgia or an asteroid wasn't headed our way I paused to think on how I would spend these precious moments of silent solitude. I decided to work on a few thank you cards in my craft room downstairs. To keep track of the Wees I brought our baby monitor with me.
About 20 minutes into my creative bliss I heard some static come through the monitor and then a blood curdling child's scream. It did not sound like one of my Wees, but a scream like that could not be ignored. I jumped to my feet only to be stopped cold in my tracks by the sound of a man's voice coming through the monitor as well.
My husband was at work.
My heart began to race and my adrenaline surged through my body - there was an uninvited man in my home somehow hurting one of my Wees and making them cry.
Like a mama grizzly I immediately went on the defensive. I had to protect my Wees. I needed a weapon of some sort and I needed it fast. The closest thing I could find was one pink leg from a "Nina, Nina Dancing Ballerina" ballet bar and my daughter's giant Fisher Price Counting Piggy Bank. They would have to do.
With the bar in one hand and the pig in the other I began to climb the stairs. Calling on all of my military training I slid around angles, peeked around corners clearing rooms in my home one by one until I got to the kids' room. I paused outside their closed door. I couldn't hear anything - what if he had taken them out the window? What if they were gone? I had never been so scared in all my life. I burst through the door and shouted "leave my kids alone." Now I know cursing is not the thing a lady should normally do, but I am fairly sure I strung a few doosies on the end of this statement - though in all honesty I can't remember what they were.
But to my amazement there was no man in their room and Maddie had clearly been sleeping soundly. My S.W.A.T. like entrance had her dazedly sitting up and rubbing her eyes. I sank to my knees in relief and I am not ashamed to say a few tears rolled down my face. My Wees were okay.
Now that I was calm I realized how ridiculous I looked. Was I planning on pirouetting an attacker into submission with my ballet bar? At best I would have gotten one shot with the piggy bank at the assailants head. Afterward, my assault would have been accompanied by "the counting song" as the pig's 30 second music program cycled through.
As the piggy bank and I sang Wee 3 her favorite song to get her back to sleep - I tried to figure out what had happened. Then it occurred to me - our neighbor (a work from home dad) had the exact same baby monitor which must have been operating on the same frequency. His daughter was the possessor of one opera singer like scream. Case of the mysterious baby monitor transmission solved.
Snuggled between my Wees and exhausted at my attempt to act out my own Die Hard movie, I resolved to nap with them right where I was - quiet, alone time is severely overrated. I also made the mental note to speak to the neighbor about using separate frequencies - goodness only knows what he thought about the impromptu rendition of the musical "Greece" I sang in the shower yesterday.
A wee bit relieved,
CarrieAnne
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Maddie on Obeying the Letter of the Law
I imagine that in biblical times when prophets and kings stood on mountain tops and stared each other down there were some pretty good confrontations. Between sacrificing first borns and enforced slavery one had to imagine tensions ran high. Today, in my living room there was an epic showdown. For sure no one turned water into blood, but there was some definite posturing taking place.
Wee 3 does not like nap time. Mommy LOVES nap time. Mommy lives for nap time - Mommy will throw down to protect nap time.
Five minutes before today's nap I gave Maddie her first prompt. "Maddie, lets finish up our snack so we can go read our naptime story."
This elicited a not-so-promising look. The story (which normally seals the deal easily) did not appear to be appetizing in the least.
Maddie's reply, "No, story - I play now."
The five minutes passed in stony silence. I then said, "Hey babe, let's race to your room - winner gets the first snuggle." Wee 3 is intensely attracted to any form of competition, but even this enticement elicited only a grunt of mild acknowledgment. Perhaps she had figured out that both contestants would actually be snuggling simultaneously? Note to self - up the reward for future races.
I thought I would try one more carrot before pulling out the stick. "Maddie, what songs should we sing, you pick the night night song."
No dice. And at this point she made her move - Wee 3 slowly, deliberately - much like Patton speaking before the troops - planted both feet and squarely placed her hands on her princess pull-ups. She then shouted "No NAP!!!"
Enter my internal monologue, "Oh, I see - Game ON."
I took Wee 3's hand, and guided her to her bed. I read her the story, sang the song and said in my sweetest and firmest voice, "nighty, night."
What happened then was an exhibition of pure frustration and childishness on both sides. Imagine in fast motion a wee leaving her bed and being placed back in it about 100 times. Then rewind and do it again.
Exhausted, perspiring slightly and very annoyed I told Wee 3, "The next time I see you - you better have your head on your pillow, your blankets on top of you and your eyes closed - got it Missy!"
I then went downstairs to check on Wee 4. But, before I even crossed the threshold to the hallway I heard defiant stomps. I turned, and I kid you not this was the sight I beheld.
Wee 3 had one hand on her Strawberry Shortcake pillow, which was indeed held behind her head. The second hand clutched her beloved blankets "Pink" and "Purple" to her chest and yes folks her eyes were indeed closed.
Wee 3 - 100 points, Mommy defeated.
A wee bit past the Rubicon,
CarrieAnne
Wee 3 does not like nap time. Mommy LOVES nap time. Mommy lives for nap time - Mommy will throw down to protect nap time.
Five minutes before today's nap I gave Maddie her first prompt. "Maddie, lets finish up our snack so we can go read our naptime story."
This elicited a not-so-promising look. The story (which normally seals the deal easily) did not appear to be appetizing in the least.
Maddie's reply, "No, story - I play now."
The five minutes passed in stony silence. I then said, "Hey babe, let's race to your room - winner gets the first snuggle." Wee 3 is intensely attracted to any form of competition, but even this enticement elicited only a grunt of mild acknowledgment. Perhaps she had figured out that both contestants would actually be snuggling simultaneously? Note to self - up the reward for future races.
I thought I would try one more carrot before pulling out the stick. "Maddie, what songs should we sing, you pick the night night song."
No dice. And at this point she made her move - Wee 3 slowly, deliberately - much like Patton speaking before the troops - planted both feet and squarely placed her hands on her princess pull-ups. She then shouted "No NAP!!!"
Enter my internal monologue, "Oh, I see - Game ON."
I took Wee 3's hand, and guided her to her bed. I read her the story, sang the song and said in my sweetest and firmest voice, "nighty, night."
What happened then was an exhibition of pure frustration and childishness on both sides. Imagine in fast motion a wee leaving her bed and being placed back in it about 100 times. Then rewind and do it again.
Exhausted, perspiring slightly and very annoyed I told Wee 3, "The next time I see you - you better have your head on your pillow, your blankets on top of you and your eyes closed - got it Missy!"
I then went downstairs to check on Wee 4. But, before I even crossed the threshold to the hallway I heard defiant stomps. I turned, and I kid you not this was the sight I beheld.
Wee 3 had one hand on her Strawberry Shortcake pillow, which was indeed held behind her head. The second hand clutched her beloved blankets "Pink" and "Purple" to her chest and yes folks her eyes were indeed closed.
Wee 3 - 100 points, Mommy defeated.
A wee bit past the Rubicon,
CarrieAnne
Monday, January 31, 2011
Maddie on Humility
Now that Wee 4 has matured enough to recline in a high chair during snack time I have two hands free again to teach Wee 3 the advantages of eating like a biped. Maddie is fairly ambivalent to all forms of persuasion when it comes to table etiquette. She seems little bothered by the fact that most of her food ends up on her chair or the floor and is resolute in her determination that eating utensils are for the less adventurous.
Yesterday, I attempted to get her to eat yogurt with a spoon instead of licking it out of the cup like a hopped up chihuahua, and Maddie said "Oh, mommy you are so silly. No need spoon for yogurt I am doing just fine."
While demonstrating that much more of the yogurt made it into my mouth when I used my spoon, I replied "Maddie, you are the one being the silly goose - look at all the yogurt on your chair. Mommy's yogurt is in mommy's tummy."
Taking in the scene like someone circling the 10 differences between two almost identical pictures, Maddie pointed to herself and said "I no silly goose, I perfect! My chair no perfect, very naughty chair."
At least I can say the child is blessed to have confidence in good measure!
A wee bit messy,
CarrieAnne
Yesterday, I attempted to get her to eat yogurt with a spoon instead of licking it out of the cup like a hopped up chihuahua, and Maddie said "Oh, mommy you are so silly. No need spoon for yogurt I am doing just fine."
While demonstrating that much more of the yogurt made it into my mouth when I used my spoon, I replied "Maddie, you are the one being the silly goose - look at all the yogurt on your chair. Mommy's yogurt is in mommy's tummy."
Taking in the scene like someone circling the 10 differences between two almost identical pictures, Maddie pointed to herself and said "I no silly goose, I perfect! My chair no perfect, very naughty chair."
At least I can say the child is blessed to have confidence in good measure!
A wee bit messy,
CarrieAnne
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Perspectives on Laundry
Like most domestic goddesses who rule a Wee fiefdom, washing, folding, and ironing all the laundry in the house is a quest that I earnestly seek to accomplish. But much like rearing Wee's this is a task which is never truly "done." Because just as soon as the last sock is matched or the last collar pressed it is inevitable that all of the Wees have just finished a mud wrestling match or ice cream cone dribbling contest. As laundry can be just as much a battleground as the ancient jousting tourneys of yore, I thought reflecting on laundry from both the Wee and the "Me" perspectives would be thought provoking.
THE WEES
Wearing Clothes
How can one woman come up with so many "rules" about clothing. We aren't supposed to chew on our sleeves, wipe our noses on the cuffs, step on the hem, wear the knees out on the playground, spill food on our shirts, or wear things which don't match. I think it is especially irritating about the matching - that's entirely subjective. Who says a gray Hello Kitty shirt doesn't match my yellow pants with the turtles on them. They are all animals after all.
Why can't I pick at the picks in my tights? If anything was ever asking to be picked certainly something named picked would be it right? Oh, crud I made a hole in my tights - better pull my skirt down even further.
And what's the deal with not wearing socks with holes in them. These are my favorite socks and most of the sock doesn't have holes in it - just where the big toe is. Since mom won't let me wear my favorite shoes with the holes in them, no one is going to see the holes in my socks anyway. I think I will just quickly put them on and run out the door. When she asks me if these are the socks with the holes in them I will mutter under my breath something that sounds like "muffinrollercoaster" or "ninjatire" - that kinda thing always throws her for a loop.
Why do my clothes have to fall into categories "church," "school," and "play." It is just ridiculous that I can't where what I want when I want. I think these categories are prejudicial. Since when did a wardrobe have to suffer profiling or apartheid? I am staging a protest! I will walk the house naked as a sign of my displeasure - even better, I will stage this expression of my civil liberties when my mom is stressed out because company is on its way.
Putting Clothes in the Hamper
Hey, this is just like basketball practice in gym class. Who is up for a few free throws? And just like school there is a ball boy - or should I say "sock mama." Mom will grab all the ones that don't make it in. Also I really don't feel like putting these smelly dirty yard work clothes in the hamper so I will dump them in my closet and forget about them for a few weeks. Mom loves to be challenged and to accomplish difficult feats so removing mold will really be inspiring and fun for her.
When she said "sort" the clothes, what I heard was "raise the clothes over my head and let chance and gravity do the work." Hasn't she seen all the commercials that come on the Disney channel - with the new laundry detergents clothing colors never bleed - mom is positively ancient with her traditions and outdated theories on housework.
Putting Away Clothes
Why would I put my clothes in their assigned drawer or hang them up in my closet? I can't see them all at the same time if I do that. Instead I will artistically splay them in a random Andy Warholesque fashion. If mom nags me about this I am just going to throw them back in the dirty laundry basket. That way she'll never even know they didn't get put away.
MY PERSPECTIVE
Wearing Clothes
How is it possible for such small beings to ruin their clothes so quickly? This sleeve looks like a squirrel went on a gnawing rampage and these jeans - was she trying out for an Olympic curling team in gym class today. Why do I even tell them to be careful - they never listen.
Oh, my goodness that outfit is a doosey. What are you trying to channel - the flying nun meets the incredible hulk? No you can't wear that to school because the skirt is two sizes too short and the top does not even come close to matching. No, just because both prints are from animals in the same genus, it does not mean that they match.
What are you doing - put your clothes on right now! Our dinner guests will be here any minute - so help me if you don't get dressed in appropriate clothing by the time I count to 10 a straight jacket with leggings will be your uniform for the next month.
Stop picking at your tights, they are going to unravel. Money doesn't grow on trees and tights don't either. Why is she pulling her skirt down past her knees? The waist band is barely over her bottom - is that at hole behind her knee - forget it, I am not looking any closer.
No sweetie, you can not wear that to the park because that is a church outfit. Your clothes rotate through a cycle. Your best clothes for church, these are demoted to school clothes when they become damaged and then they become play clothes when your art teacher forgets that paint and permanent marker don't always wash out. Yes, I do know when you purposefully ruin your clothes to demote them quicker and yes, I get royally steamed when their is nothing to pass down to your sisters.
Putting Clothes in the Hamper
Wait a minute, you can get to level 1.65 million on your Nintendo DS, climb a rock climbing wall at school and read at the 4th grade level in the 2nd grade, but you can't get a pair of socks in your hamper? Who do you think is going to pick this tornado of dirty laundry up the "lint bunny" or maybe you believe in the "load sorting fairy."
The baskets are for light, dark and white - not "maybe," "I don't know" and "she'll figure it out."
I don't remember having a shirt this color pink. Wait a minute, this was my favorite white shirt. They did not throw in their cheap, screen printed bright red school spirit shirts in with my nice clothes. 500,000 loads of laundry later, you think they would believe me over some ridiculous claim by a stranger wanting to make a quick buck on TV. It is experience - unappreciated experience! I hope Oxy Clean gets this out.
Putting Away Clothes
Are there clean - still folded clothes in this hamper? I know that can't be the case - I just know it because my children love me and don't want me to self-commit to a mental institution. Perhaps them piling those clothes up on the floor wasn't such a bad idea - maybe I'll just close the door to their room next time and pretend the laundry is actually "done."
A wee bit over-loaded,
CarrieAnne
THE WEES
Wearing Clothes
How can one woman come up with so many "rules" about clothing. We aren't supposed to chew on our sleeves, wipe our noses on the cuffs, step on the hem, wear the knees out on the playground, spill food on our shirts, or wear things which don't match. I think it is especially irritating about the matching - that's entirely subjective. Who says a gray Hello Kitty shirt doesn't match my yellow pants with the turtles on them. They are all animals after all.
Why can't I pick at the picks in my tights? If anything was ever asking to be picked certainly something named picked would be it right? Oh, crud I made a hole in my tights - better pull my skirt down even further.
And what's the deal with not wearing socks with holes in them. These are my favorite socks and most of the sock doesn't have holes in it - just where the big toe is. Since mom won't let me wear my favorite shoes with the holes in them, no one is going to see the holes in my socks anyway. I think I will just quickly put them on and run out the door. When she asks me if these are the socks with the holes in them I will mutter under my breath something that sounds like "muffinrollercoaster" or "ninjatire" - that kinda thing always throws her for a loop.
Why do my clothes have to fall into categories "church," "school," and "play." It is just ridiculous that I can't where what I want when I want. I think these categories are prejudicial. Since when did a wardrobe have to suffer profiling or apartheid? I am staging a protest! I will walk the house naked as a sign of my displeasure - even better, I will stage this expression of my civil liberties when my mom is stressed out because company is on its way.
Putting Clothes in the Hamper
Hey, this is just like basketball practice in gym class. Who is up for a few free throws? And just like school there is a ball boy - or should I say "sock mama." Mom will grab all the ones that don't make it in. Also I really don't feel like putting these smelly dirty yard work clothes in the hamper so I will dump them in my closet and forget about them for a few weeks. Mom loves to be challenged and to accomplish difficult feats so removing mold will really be inspiring and fun for her.
When she said "sort" the clothes, what I heard was "raise the clothes over my head and let chance and gravity do the work." Hasn't she seen all the commercials that come on the Disney channel - with the new laundry detergents clothing colors never bleed - mom is positively ancient with her traditions and outdated theories on housework.
Putting Away Clothes
Why would I put my clothes in their assigned drawer or hang them up in my closet? I can't see them all at the same time if I do that. Instead I will artistically splay them in a random Andy Warholesque fashion. If mom nags me about this I am just going to throw them back in the dirty laundry basket. That way she'll never even know they didn't get put away.
MY PERSPECTIVE
Wearing Clothes
How is it possible for such small beings to ruin their clothes so quickly? This sleeve looks like a squirrel went on a gnawing rampage and these jeans - was she trying out for an Olympic curling team in gym class today. Why do I even tell them to be careful - they never listen.
Oh, my goodness that outfit is a doosey. What are you trying to channel - the flying nun meets the incredible hulk? No you can't wear that to school because the skirt is two sizes too short and the top does not even come close to matching. No, just because both prints are from animals in the same genus, it does not mean that they match.
What are you doing - put your clothes on right now! Our dinner guests will be here any minute - so help me if you don't get dressed in appropriate clothing by the time I count to 10 a straight jacket with leggings will be your uniform for the next month.
Stop picking at your tights, they are going to unravel. Money doesn't grow on trees and tights don't either. Why is she pulling her skirt down past her knees? The waist band is barely over her bottom - is that at hole behind her knee - forget it, I am not looking any closer.
No sweetie, you can not wear that to the park because that is a church outfit. Your clothes rotate through a cycle. Your best clothes for church, these are demoted to school clothes when they become damaged and then they become play clothes when your art teacher forgets that paint and permanent marker don't always wash out. Yes, I do know when you purposefully ruin your clothes to demote them quicker and yes, I get royally steamed when their is nothing to pass down to your sisters.
Putting Clothes in the Hamper
Wait a minute, you can get to level 1.65 million on your Nintendo DS, climb a rock climbing wall at school and read at the 4th grade level in the 2nd grade, but you can't get a pair of socks in your hamper? Who do you think is going to pick this tornado of dirty laundry up the "lint bunny" or maybe you believe in the "load sorting fairy."
The baskets are for light, dark and white - not "maybe," "I don't know" and "she'll figure it out."
I don't remember having a shirt this color pink. Wait a minute, this was my favorite white shirt. They did not throw in their cheap, screen printed bright red school spirit shirts in with my nice clothes. 500,000 loads of laundry later, you think they would believe me over some ridiculous claim by a stranger wanting to make a quick buck on TV. It is experience - unappreciated experience! I hope Oxy Clean gets this out.
Putting Away Clothes
Are there clean - still folded clothes in this hamper? I know that can't be the case - I just know it because my children love me and don't want me to self-commit to a mental institution. Perhaps them piling those clothes up on the floor wasn't such a bad idea - maybe I'll just close the door to their room next time and pretend the laundry is actually "done."
A wee bit over-loaded,
CarrieAnne
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Maddie on Song Writing
As do many families, in Weeland we have a night time routine. Showers, teeth brushing, scripture reading, a fictional story and then each Wee is allowed one song request. Wee 1 and Wee 2 always choose the same song and get express serious disdain if I modify a single word. Wee 4 prefers classic nursery rhymes put to the tune of Army cadences. For those of you who know what Army cadences are, it is really quite amusing.
Wee 4 loves for me to sing the same song each night, but not the same words. Maddie's favorite bedtime song is "Old MacDonald" and it has been her platinum album favorite for about 3 months. Sometimes her singing of it acts like sonar in the house, and I can determine where she is or what type of mischief she is up to by the tone, tempo and volume of her singing. Last night Maddie requested two alternate versions.
In the first rendition, "Old MacDonald had a plant." I thought this to be quite the astute observation, because if he had no plants he really would have been a zero as a farmer. The challenge comes when one must sing what the plant "says". I thought Maddie herself would be a great source for how to fill in the following blanks and here is what she came up with.
After singing her avant-garde personification of domesticated crops, Maddie begged for one more verse and more out of curiosity than anything else I said OK. This time Old MacDonald had a "rock star." Not just any rock star, but one that came complete with air guitar and her version of an Air Supply solo. With an approved TV channel list that includes PBS, Noggin, and only morning Disney shows I have no idea where she got in touch with her classic rock roots, but her serious rock star face included furrowed brow and pouting lips was almost too much for me to handle. When she started the around the world guitar waving, I felt it was time to call it a night.
A wee bit excited about tomorrow night's concert,
CarrieAnne
Wee 4 loves for me to sing the same song each night, but not the same words. Maddie's favorite bedtime song is "Old MacDonald" and it has been her platinum album favorite for about 3 months. Sometimes her singing of it acts like sonar in the house, and I can determine where she is or what type of mischief she is up to by the tone, tempo and volume of her singing. Last night Maddie requested two alternate versions.
In the first rendition, "Old MacDonald had a plant." I thought this to be quite the astute observation, because if he had no plants he really would have been a zero as a farmer. The challenge comes when one must sing what the plant "says". I thought Maddie herself would be a great source for how to fill in the following blanks and here is what she came up with.
- Old MacDonald had a farm, EE-I-EE-I-O.
- And on that farm he had a plant EE-I-EE-I-O,
- With a grow, grow here and a grow, grow there
- Here a grow, there it grows right into a French Fry and then into my belly.
- Old MacDonald had a farm, EE-I-EE-I-O.
After singing her avant-garde personification of domesticated crops, Maddie begged for one more verse and more out of curiosity than anything else I said OK. This time Old MacDonald had a "rock star." Not just any rock star, but one that came complete with air guitar and her version of an Air Supply solo. With an approved TV channel list that includes PBS, Noggin, and only morning Disney shows I have no idea where she got in touch with her classic rock roots, but her serious rock star face included furrowed brow and pouting lips was almost too much for me to handle. When she started the around the world guitar waving, I felt it was time to call it a night.
A wee bit excited about tomorrow night's concert,
CarrieAnne
The Wees on Coupons
Now if you read the title of this blog post and rolled your eyes at the word "coupons," you clearly aren't trying to raise four Wees in the midst of a recession. Wees eat. In fact they eat a lot and therefore we coupon. Now we aren't extreme couponers - no need to send a TLC camera crew to our house or for us to build an annex out of cereal boxes for our supply of dental floss. But we do coupon and the Wees have mixed emotions about it.
Wee 1
Victoria thinks coupons are pretty cool for two main reasons. Cutting them out of the newspaper is the only time she gets to use really big adult scissors and because they are forbidden most of the time, she feels extra powerful with them in her hands. The kid also loves brand name snacks. Shopping with Wee 1 is like having a living infomercial chatting it up besides you. Often, I hand her the coupon and let her pick the flavor she prefers for an item. What ensues is a battle of the brands via a commercial reciting monologue. For example a few weeks ago it was time for us to buy cereal and Victoria had to choose from Rice Krispies or Frosted Flakes. Her verbalized introspection went something like this:
"Frosted flakes are "GRRRREEEAT" so clearly that would be a good choice, but Rice Krispies go "Snap, Crackle and Pop" and that is entertaining. I don't think the Frosted Flakes have every actually said anything so I am going to go with Rice Krispies -the taste and the added sound track make them better."
Wee 2
Bella is clearly flummoxed by coupons. First of all the name continually throws her for a loop and she calls them "poopons". She says this in a manner in which the "poop" part is heavily accented. She then pauses and says "ons." We don't know why she does this and what makes it even more interesting is that she clearly does not think she is being funny and in no way associates her pronunciation with a bodily function of any kind. She reacts with strong feelings of anger when teased by her pronunciation and has resisted all efforts at correcting it.
Wee 2 knows these "poopons" are imbued with magical powers, that allow us to "save" money for fun things like going to Disney World and that make cash register shelf candy free. What she doesn't get is how they do wonderful magic tricks and why everyone else doesn't use them. On more than one occasion she has asked the person checking out in front of us "You aren't going to use a "poopon" for that? Are you rich or do you just not like candy?"
Because most people - especially those without wees - don't know what a "poopon" is, we have gotten a mixture of responses from her questioning. These ranged from sheer horror of the word "poop" being mentioned and their being in close proximity to a child who may have had something to do with that recently and a kind old man who once gave her a quarter for being so concerned about his financial well being.
Wee 3
Maddie and the coupons have a very adversarial relationship. What she understands about coupons is that they take up a lot of my Tuesday morning while the girls are at school. Time she very possessively feels she should be taking up. She also feels that they must somehow be her mortal foe as when she rips, scatters, or otherwise molests them I become quite irate and send her to time out.
What Wee 3 loves about coupons are the machines which spit them out in the grocery store. She is like a heat seeking missile when she sees that little red flashing light. And whether it is something we will never use like adult diapers or something we use way to much of like baby diapers she has a compulsive need to pull one coupon from each machine. What is nice is that she only wants one, as "sharing" with strangers is far easier for her than sharing with her siblings.
Wee 4
Reid's stance on coupons is fairly ambivalent. For a 3 month old he is shockingly impervious to all forms of marketing. He cares very little about what brand of diaper he is wearing or whether or not he is getting a free candy bar at the end of the shopping trip. Though I think he finds the blinking light on instore displays entertaining, more research needs to be done on this. His primary area of interest is whether or not cutting or using coupons interferes with his eating schedule. So long as I can clip and he can sip he remains supportive of the entire enterprise.
A wee bit thrifty,
CarrieAnne
Wee 1
Victoria thinks coupons are pretty cool for two main reasons. Cutting them out of the newspaper is the only time she gets to use really big adult scissors and because they are forbidden most of the time, she feels extra powerful with them in her hands. The kid also loves brand name snacks. Shopping with Wee 1 is like having a living infomercial chatting it up besides you. Often, I hand her the coupon and let her pick the flavor she prefers for an item. What ensues is a battle of the brands via a commercial reciting monologue. For example a few weeks ago it was time for us to buy cereal and Victoria had to choose from Rice Krispies or Frosted Flakes. Her verbalized introspection went something like this:
"Frosted flakes are "GRRRREEEAT" so clearly that would be a good choice, but Rice Krispies go "Snap, Crackle and Pop" and that is entertaining. I don't think the Frosted Flakes have every actually said anything so I am going to go with Rice Krispies -the taste and the added sound track make them better."
Wee 2
Bella is clearly flummoxed by coupons. First of all the name continually throws her for a loop and she calls them "poopons". She says this in a manner in which the "poop" part is heavily accented. She then pauses and says "ons." We don't know why she does this and what makes it even more interesting is that she clearly does not think she is being funny and in no way associates her pronunciation with a bodily function of any kind. She reacts with strong feelings of anger when teased by her pronunciation and has resisted all efforts at correcting it.
Wee 2 knows these "poopons" are imbued with magical powers, that allow us to "save" money for fun things like going to Disney World and that make cash register shelf candy free. What she doesn't get is how they do wonderful magic tricks and why everyone else doesn't use them. On more than one occasion she has asked the person checking out in front of us "You aren't going to use a "poopon" for that? Are you rich or do you just not like candy?"
Because most people - especially those without wees - don't know what a "poopon" is, we have gotten a mixture of responses from her questioning. These ranged from sheer horror of the word "poop" being mentioned and their being in close proximity to a child who may have had something to do with that recently and a kind old man who once gave her a quarter for being so concerned about his financial well being.
Wee 3
Maddie and the coupons have a very adversarial relationship. What she understands about coupons is that they take up a lot of my Tuesday morning while the girls are at school. Time she very possessively feels she should be taking up. She also feels that they must somehow be her mortal foe as when she rips, scatters, or otherwise molests them I become quite irate and send her to time out.
What Wee 3 loves about coupons are the machines which spit them out in the grocery store. She is like a heat seeking missile when she sees that little red flashing light. And whether it is something we will never use like adult diapers or something we use way to much of like baby diapers she has a compulsive need to pull one coupon from each machine. What is nice is that she only wants one, as "sharing" with strangers is far easier for her than sharing with her siblings.
Wee 4
Reid's stance on coupons is fairly ambivalent. For a 3 month old he is shockingly impervious to all forms of marketing. He cares very little about what brand of diaper he is wearing or whether or not he is getting a free candy bar at the end of the shopping trip. Though I think he finds the blinking light on instore displays entertaining, more research needs to be done on this. His primary area of interest is whether or not cutting or using coupons interferes with his eating schedule. So long as I can clip and he can sip he remains supportive of the entire enterprise.
A wee bit thrifty,
CarrieAnne
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Maddie on Cannibalism
I am not sure if it is because of the rise in popularity of Twilight and other vampire inspired pop culture media, but Wee 3 has developed a distinctive taste for human flesh in the last few months. It is okay to be horrified, I too judged the parents of BITERS, before I had one. Relish in your superiority - it does not offend me at all.
Now Maddie, doesn't carve a hunk off a human every day, but on occasion when she feels the need to demonstrate her power (or lack their of) in the ranking of the Wees she seeks out a victim. Her meal of choice tonight was Bella (aka Wee 2).
Following the crime, I sat Wee 3 down and tried to explain the evils of biting to her. I also wanted to get to the bottom of her motivation for this heinous toddler behavior. The conversation went like this.
"Maddie, why would you bite your sisters. You love them and biting hurts. We don't bite people. We bite food. Were you hungry or were you trying to express that you were mad?"
Afraid I was about to force another serving of vegetables on her Maddie quickly replied "I not hungry. Sisters are not for dinner!"
Seeing my magic opening I replied: "That's right sisters are not for dinner. We don't bite sisters. Why don't we bite them?"
Maddie's reply "They don't taste good."
Obviously I would like some higher moral code to be the reason for her biting to stop, but I will take what I can get.
Hungering for a wee less biting,
CarrieAnne
Now Maddie, doesn't carve a hunk off a human every day, but on occasion when she feels the need to demonstrate her power (or lack their of) in the ranking of the Wees she seeks out a victim. Her meal of choice tonight was Bella (aka Wee 2).
Following the crime, I sat Wee 3 down and tried to explain the evils of biting to her. I also wanted to get to the bottom of her motivation for this heinous toddler behavior. The conversation went like this.
"Maddie, why would you bite your sisters. You love them and biting hurts. We don't bite people. We bite food. Were you hungry or were you trying to express that you were mad?"
Afraid I was about to force another serving of vegetables on her Maddie quickly replied "I not hungry. Sisters are not for dinner!"
Seeing my magic opening I replied: "That's right sisters are not for dinner. We don't bite sisters. Why don't we bite them?"
Maddie's reply "They don't taste good."
Obviously I would like some higher moral code to be the reason for her biting to stop, but I will take what I can get.
Hungering for a wee less biting,
CarrieAnne
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