Some would say that changing the sheets on a bunk bed is the most difficult thing they've ever done but I say it doesn't have to be that way. Here are some useful tips for making the job easier.
1. Stare into the room where the bed is located. Calculate in your head how long it has been since those sheets were changed. If you estimate that the sheets have been used for 10 days or less then decide that this job can wait.
2. Four days later enter the room where the bed is located and decide that today is the day those sheets get changed. Step on an expensive toy and break it. Get mad. Decide that those sheets don't get changed until the occupants of the room clean it up.
3. Five days later enter the room and spend 2 hours sorting Legos, cars, stuffed animals, books, etc. Now you're too frustrated and angry to change those sheets. It'll have to wait.
4. Three days later enter the room and prayerfully lay your hands on the bed. Commit in your heart to get those sheets changed by the end of the day. Starting with the lower bunk, begin removing the sheets. Pinch your fingers and bump your head. Get mad and leave the room, vowing not to return until your husband comes home from work and helps.
5. When your husband returns from work (at bedtime), tell him that he has to get upstairs immediately and help with those sheets because you're sick and tired of doing that job by yourself. After the shouting subsides, explain to the youngest child why it won't hurt him to sleep on a bare mattress for one night.
6. A week later enter the room and climb to the top bunk. Attempt to remove the sheets while kneeling on the mattress. This won't work.
7. Lying flat on your back on the bottom bunk, push up on the upper mattress with your feet. When you do this you won't be able to reach the upper mattress because your legs are longer than your arms but desperation will require that you not skip this step.
8. Sit up in the lower bunk with your head smashed against the top bunk. Use your head to raise the top mattress and very carefully use your fingers to push the sheet up and free of the mattress. Pinch your fingers and bump your head.
9. Wrestle the sheets from the upper mattress, tearing them in some places. It doesn't matter, they're OFF. Pinch your fingers and bump your head.
10. Spread the clean sheets on the upper and lower mattresses. Attempt to tuck the sheets around the mattresses while kneeling on the mattresses. Pinch your fingers and bump your head.
11. Step 10 will not be successful. Remove both mattresses from the bed frame. Pinch your fingers and bump your head.
12. Dress the mattresses in their sheets. Lay the top sheet loosely on the mattress. Resist the urge to use safety pins and rubber bands to attach the top sheet to the mattress as this will result in further shredding of the sheet.
13. Lift the mattresses into the frame using your super human "angry mom" strength. Ignore the pain in your back and the damage to your innards. Step on more toys. Knock over a lamp and break it. Scream obscenities that would make a rapper feel dirty. Pinch your fingers and bump your head.
Voila! Your done! Wasn't that easy!
14. Go to the fridge to get that well deserved carton of ice cream you're going to eat now. Pinch your fingers and bump your head.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Friday, November 7, 2008
Jesus saith, "Thou shalt not Trick-or-Treat."
"Jesus doesn't want us to Trick-or-Treat." This from a four year old in my Sunday School class. He of course is speaking of Christ's words in Luke 24:49 when he is about to ascend into Heaven. The New International Version of the Bible says in v. 45, "Then he opened their minds so they could understand the Scriptures." Jesus goes on to point out how he has fulfilled prophecy once and for all and commissions those present to go out and bear witness to what they have seen, but he admonishes them, ".... stay in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high....and avoid the Easter Bunny, Halloween, Santa Claus, and public schools at all costs."
This last phrase is only available to those with REALLY open minds because JESUS NEVER SAID IT!
You see, that's how those Christians with REALLY open minds are able to sort themselves from the rest of us. If they can find new menacing and evil aspects to those things that used to be innocuous and, at the very least, just fun, then they have managed to somehow elevate themselves above that level ground at the base of the cross.
The Easter Bunny, ghosts, and Santa are not real. It is not until you turn them into minions of the devil (who is real) that YOU turn them into something scary for children.
"But Halloween is a pagan holiday!!!!" They were all pagan holidays! Read a book instead of getting your history lesson from the pulpit! During the first millennium, pagan rulers converted to Christianity (Catholicism). In order to receive the much sought after blessing and protection of the pope (already very powerful) those rulers had to convert their people to Christianity and acknowledge the Catholic church as the official church of their kingdom. Instead of disallowing pagan holidays, the kings and church leaders simply proclaimed those holidays to be in honor of God, Christ, or some saint and the people, accustomed to celebrating at these prescribed times of the year allowed old beliefs to slip away and replaced them with the new.
And where in the Bible does it say that public schools are evil and I need to make a stink when the Ten Commandments aren't posted. Don't practicing Jews revere the Ten Commandments? Why aren't they in there with us Evangelicals stirring the pot? Because their kids have the commandments memorized! They do not need them posted on the wall!
It feels good sometimes to stir the pot for God. Only problem is He didn't ask us to do that. He said, Teach them to your children (you, not the school), talk about them all the time (live them, not post them).
I have been invited into public schools to read the Christmas story by Christian teachers because that story is accepted as a piece of cultural literature. That Christian teacher took that opportunity to share the greatest story ever told with her students.
I have been present in a classroom where one student asked another "What does WWJD mean on your bracelet?" The Christian teacher called the student with the bracelet to the front of the room where she was allowed to tell the whole class what the bracelet meant and why she wore it.
God has not abandoned public schools, Christians have. Jesus never said a child going door-to-door in a superman costume is evil, Christians said it. God does talk a lot about unity. Nobody is protesting a lack of that. He mentions "love" more than several times. Let's open our minds to that rather than condemning harmless children's' activities.
This last phrase is only available to those with REALLY open minds because JESUS NEVER SAID IT!
You see, that's how those Christians with REALLY open minds are able to sort themselves from the rest of us. If they can find new menacing and evil aspects to those things that used to be innocuous and, at the very least, just fun, then they have managed to somehow elevate themselves above that level ground at the base of the cross.
The Easter Bunny, ghosts, and Santa are not real. It is not until you turn them into minions of the devil (who is real) that YOU turn them into something scary for children.
"But Halloween is a pagan holiday!!!!" They were all pagan holidays! Read a book instead of getting your history lesson from the pulpit! During the first millennium, pagan rulers converted to Christianity (Catholicism). In order to receive the much sought after blessing and protection of the pope (already very powerful) those rulers had to convert their people to Christianity and acknowledge the Catholic church as the official church of their kingdom. Instead of disallowing pagan holidays, the kings and church leaders simply proclaimed those holidays to be in honor of God, Christ, or some saint and the people, accustomed to celebrating at these prescribed times of the year allowed old beliefs to slip away and replaced them with the new.
And where in the Bible does it say that public schools are evil and I need to make a stink when the Ten Commandments aren't posted. Don't practicing Jews revere the Ten Commandments? Why aren't they in there with us Evangelicals stirring the pot? Because their kids have the commandments memorized! They do not need them posted on the wall!
It feels good sometimes to stir the pot for God. Only problem is He didn't ask us to do that. He said, Teach them to your children (you, not the school), talk about them all the time (live them, not post them).
I have been invited into public schools to read the Christmas story by Christian teachers because that story is accepted as a piece of cultural literature. That Christian teacher took that opportunity to share the greatest story ever told with her students.
I have been present in a classroom where one student asked another "What does WWJD mean on your bracelet?" The Christian teacher called the student with the bracelet to the front of the room where she was allowed to tell the whole class what the bracelet meant and why she wore it.
God has not abandoned public schools, Christians have. Jesus never said a child going door-to-door in a superman costume is evil, Christians said it. God does talk a lot about unity. Nobody is protesting a lack of that. He mentions "love" more than several times. Let's open our minds to that rather than condemning harmless children's' activities.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Holiday Letters
'Tis the season for writing your annual Christmas letter. Here are some pointers to keep in mind as you compose something that is meant to be thoughtful, festive, and uplifting to the recipient.
Your letter will be going out to all the people with whom you've chosen not to communicate all year long so it will be necessary to remind people who you are and what you stand for. Always begin with a brief (lengthy) "sermonette" on the meaning of Christmas (as you define it.) Remind them that they have allowed Christmas to become a trite, shallow occasion. Use this letter as a whipping post to berate your fellow Christians toward a more humble observance of the Christmas season. They will be SO glad to hear from you at long last. Remember, they won't hear from you again for another year so feel free to include references to Pentecost, Easter, and Epiphany. They've probably forgotten the reason for these dates in the church calendar and will be so impressed with your godliness, "sanctimosity", and "spiritualicity."
Once you have given an appropriate amount of blah blah to Christmas, you can launch into your true reason for composing the letter: yourself. Apprise everyone of the minutiae of your life: your victimization by yet another spouse, the blood in your urine, skin lesions, hair loss,etc. No detail is too small: financial woes, mental illness, whether your own or those of family, friends, or coworkers. When it comes to YOUR Christmas letter, laws regarding privacy DO NOT APPLY.
For some, this is the point in the letter in which you find creative, socially acceptable ways to let everyone know how much money you make. If your husband works for the government, you can casually mention, "Bob got promoted to G-14 this year." This indicates Bob's pay scale and not just his success at work. Talk about lavish vacations and the cars you bought for yourself and your children.
And Your Children....!!!! Where do I begin! You can say, "Bob Jr. has finally gotten his life on track." This little phrase speaks volumes. It lets us know that Bob Jr.'s life has been "off track." It could even be back "off track" by the time you receive this letter. While sounding positive you have still managed to reveal to the reader that there has been intense drama in your life and Bob Jr. is falling short of expectations (no fault of your own.)
Talk about your mysterious son Charlie who wants to be called Mordred and is covered in piercings and tattoos. Charlie was recently arrested for vandalizing city property with pig blood. He claims it is his latest piece of artwork and he calls it "Angst." Say something glib like, "They don't appreciate his brand of humor at the sheriff's office but we love him anyway."
Close this portion of your letter with an after thought such as, "Suzy won Curliest Hair in her high school Who's Who." This lets us know that you almost don't know she's there due to the antics of Bob Jr. and Charlie a.k.a. Mordred.
Now it's time to close the letter which means a concise recap of the sermonette. Exhort everyone to be as good a Christian as you, then close with an insincere invitation to visit. Let everyone know that Mordred's bed is always open since he has taken to sleeping in his closet.
Peace, Love, and Joy
Your letter will be going out to all the people with whom you've chosen not to communicate all year long so it will be necessary to remind people who you are and what you stand for. Always begin with a brief (lengthy) "sermonette" on the meaning of Christmas (as you define it.) Remind them that they have allowed Christmas to become a trite, shallow occasion. Use this letter as a whipping post to berate your fellow Christians toward a more humble observance of the Christmas season. They will be SO glad to hear from you at long last. Remember, they won't hear from you again for another year so feel free to include references to Pentecost, Easter, and Epiphany. They've probably forgotten the reason for these dates in the church calendar and will be so impressed with your godliness, "sanctimosity", and "spiritualicity."
Once you have given an appropriate amount of blah blah to Christmas, you can launch into your true reason for composing the letter: yourself. Apprise everyone of the minutiae of your life: your victimization by yet another spouse, the blood in your urine, skin lesions, hair loss,etc. No detail is too small: financial woes, mental illness, whether your own or those of family, friends, or coworkers. When it comes to YOUR Christmas letter, laws regarding privacy DO NOT APPLY.
For some, this is the point in the letter in which you find creative, socially acceptable ways to let everyone know how much money you make. If your husband works for the government, you can casually mention, "Bob got promoted to G-14 this year." This indicates Bob's pay scale and not just his success at work. Talk about lavish vacations and the cars you bought for yourself and your children.
And Your Children....!!!! Where do I begin! You can say, "Bob Jr. has finally gotten his life on track." This little phrase speaks volumes. It lets us know that Bob Jr.'s life has been "off track." It could even be back "off track" by the time you receive this letter. While sounding positive you have still managed to reveal to the reader that there has been intense drama in your life and Bob Jr. is falling short of expectations (no fault of your own.)
Talk about your mysterious son Charlie who wants to be called Mordred and is covered in piercings and tattoos. Charlie was recently arrested for vandalizing city property with pig blood. He claims it is his latest piece of artwork and he calls it "Angst." Say something glib like, "They don't appreciate his brand of humor at the sheriff's office but we love him anyway."
Close this portion of your letter with an after thought such as, "Suzy won Curliest Hair in her high school Who's Who." This lets us know that you almost don't know she's there due to the antics of Bob Jr. and Charlie a.k.a. Mordred.
Now it's time to close the letter which means a concise recap of the sermonette. Exhort everyone to be as good a Christian as you, then close with an insincere invitation to visit. Let everyone know that Mordred's bed is always open since he has taken to sleeping in his closet.
Peace, Love, and Joy
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Scanner
Years ago I took clothing to an elderly lady for alteration. She lived alone in a small house. On top of her giant Curtis Mathis television sat a giant police scanner. The red lights on the front chased back and forth and I could hear the police transmissions from the driveway when I got out of my car. When I entered the house she would turn the scanner down to a low murmur. She was always glad to see me and after fitting and pinning my garments would always ask, "Can you stay awhile?" "No" I thought but I would always sit down for a little while and it always turned into a long while. We would gossip the way good Christian women do until I was able to extract myself and go home.
How sad, I thought. Her only company is that scanner. She lives her life through the drama of a small, rural, Kentucky county; her only entertainment that segment of society that can't make it through the day without some mediation, guidance, and supervision by law enforcement. How unfulfilled. How sad.
Years have passed and I find that as I go through the motions of the day, there are times when I'd just like to know what's going on outside my home. I go entire days without going out and the unalleviated boredom can be so oppressive. Tonight a friend told me that middle aged women are driving up the suicide rate. I was not surprised.
So for my birthday, I asked for a scanner. As I do laundry, I listen to the endless traffic stops. I hear calls regarding burglaries and domestic violence. There is a woman who calls about once a month because "someone done stole her mama cat." The officers good-naturedly bat the call around and then one reluctantly agrees to go speak to the cat owner. If I listen long enough I hear the call alerting everyone that the cat has returned. The cat always returns.
Frequently, I hear the call go out regarding a signal 5 at the Country Cupboard. These calls always go out around lunch time so I figured signal 5 must be code for someone leaving without paying for their lunch. Turns out signal 5 is code for "I'm taking my lunch break." It was a lot more exciting when I thought someone was stealing from the Country Cupboard.
In conclusion, I find that I woefully misjudged the little old lady with her scanner. Listening to the scanner all day is highly entertaining. Without leaving the house I experience trailer park brawls, life flights, hit and runs, 10-14's, 10-45's. I find my life is richer for it and ....... wait a minute....where's my cat!
How sad, I thought. Her only company is that scanner. She lives her life through the drama of a small, rural, Kentucky county; her only entertainment that segment of society that can't make it through the day without some mediation, guidance, and supervision by law enforcement. How unfulfilled. How sad.
Years have passed and I find that as I go through the motions of the day, there are times when I'd just like to know what's going on outside my home. I go entire days without going out and the unalleviated boredom can be so oppressive. Tonight a friend told me that middle aged women are driving up the suicide rate. I was not surprised.
So for my birthday, I asked for a scanner. As I do laundry, I listen to the endless traffic stops. I hear calls regarding burglaries and domestic violence. There is a woman who calls about once a month because "someone done stole her mama cat." The officers good-naturedly bat the call around and then one reluctantly agrees to go speak to the cat owner. If I listen long enough I hear the call alerting everyone that the cat has returned. The cat always returns.
Frequently, I hear the call go out regarding a signal 5 at the Country Cupboard. These calls always go out around lunch time so I figured signal 5 must be code for someone leaving without paying for their lunch. Turns out signal 5 is code for "I'm taking my lunch break." It was a lot more exciting when I thought someone was stealing from the Country Cupboard.
In conclusion, I find that I woefully misjudged the little old lady with her scanner. Listening to the scanner all day is highly entertaining. Without leaving the house I experience trailer park brawls, life flights, hit and runs, 10-14's, 10-45's. I find my life is richer for it and ....... wait a minute....where's my cat!
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Me: The Blogger
How cool is this! I'm a blogger! A couple of friends told me I should try it and they were right. It is great fun. I sit at the computer and go on and on ad nauseum about my latest opinion. Not another soul to insert their thoughts; just me and the computer letting the whole world know what I think. Because the world wants to know. Dare I say it? Needs to know.
The best part of setting up your own blog was creating the profile. Mine took hours. I indulged in a great deal of self examination so that I could answer truthfully and introspectively to each portion of the profile outline. It was gut-wrenching and when it was over I was exhausted. But it has really paid off because I find that every time I go to my profile to see how many people have viewed my auto-biography, I am rewarded to find that people are coming in droves to find out, "Who is this feisty vixen with her Ginsu sharp wit and her delightful perspective on EVERYTHING!?" I never would have believed how quickly my fame has spread! I fully expect that this time next year, I will be doing interviews on the morning news shows and putting together a book deal.
....Oh....I just checked my profile and it seems that every time I check my profile that little number goes up. OK....so I'm the only person checking my profile and yes, I have checked it 48 times in 2 weeks. I'm new at this and I just wanted to make sure it was working right. Oh....whatever....
The best part of setting up your own blog was creating the profile. Mine took hours. I indulged in a great deal of self examination so that I could answer truthfully and introspectively to each portion of the profile outline. It was gut-wrenching and when it was over I was exhausted. But it has really paid off because I find that every time I go to my profile to see how many people have viewed my auto-biography, I am rewarded to find that people are coming in droves to find out, "Who is this feisty vixen with her Ginsu sharp wit and her delightful perspective on EVERYTHING!?" I never would have believed how quickly my fame has spread! I fully expect that this time next year, I will be doing interviews on the morning news shows and putting together a book deal.
....Oh....I just checked my profile and it seems that every time I check my profile that little number goes up. OK....so I'm the only person checking my profile and yes, I have checked it 48 times in 2 weeks. I'm new at this and I just wanted to make sure it was working right. Oh....whatever....
Friday, October 10, 2008
People I Would Shoot With a Paint Ball Gun
This year I am going to have a paint-ball gun mounted inside the grill of my car James Bond style. I will use it on the stupid people I encounter along Life's narrow way.
- I will use it on the people who cut the pick-up line at West Broadway Elementary. I believe that evil triumphs when good people do nothing so I always get out of my car and confront them on their bad behavior. At first they act surprised: "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize." Then I suggest that they get out of line and go to the back. They just stare at me. Then I say, "So you did realize you were cutting the line. Does your child have the same bad manners you have?" Again no response. As I walk back to my car, the person ALWAYS yells the same thing: "Have a nice day." I guess this is an attempt to affirm manners which, sadly, have already been proven non-existent. It's like saying, "May I kindly be excused" after you've robbed the bank. Or Bill Clinton dickering over the word "is" when we've all discovered our president is a "playa." Next time someone tells me, "Have a nice day" I'll respond, "And I have a parting shot for you too." Then hit them with my paintball gun.
- I will use my paintball gun on pregnant women who are smoking, being careful to aim for the tattoo on their leg or their giant, dirty Tasmanian devil t-shirt.
- I will use my paintball gun on people who decorate for Halloween and Christmas but can't get the trash out of their yard the rest of the year. It's usually because they're too busy getting pregnant, smoking, or having their leg tattooed. Why the investment in the giant, $200 snow globe for your front yard when you can't afford to hang anything but bed sheets in the windows.
- I will use my paintball gun on the person who sees me loading my groceries into the back of my car and sits there, blocking traffic, until I've loaded $200 worth of groceries, buckled a 4 year old in his seat, and returned my cart to the corral. By the time I pull out there are 6 cars behind him and 300 other empty parking places.
- I will use my paintball gun on those who use the church balcony as a good place to cuddle. Do you not see all 40 of us sitting down here in the choir loft. We didn't come to see that! I bet if I popped a couple of you with a paintball you'd sit up straight and keep your hands to yourself. I've been sitting in this choir loft for a long time now and I've gotten good at looking like I'm listening, yet, watching every single one of you at the same time. That's right! I saw what you did!
Yeah, I think a little paint would clean this town right up.
Good Digestion vs. Full-Bodied Hair
Would you rather have good digestion or full-bodied hair? Eugene Peterson asks this question in v. 24 of I Corinthians chapter 12 in The Message, Peterson's popular paraphrase of the Bible. There is nothing about hair or digestion in any translation of Paul's words at this same point so I think Peterson made this one up. But it is a good question for today's reader because it speaks to our societal obsession with our outsides rather than our insides.
And the answer? Full-bodied hair, of course. Isn't it obvious? God's people are intensly interested in their hair. We have entire rooms in our churches that are devoted to hair. If anyone comes along and says, "We should hold a class on digestion in this lovely room" the answer is, "This room is devoted to hair. There are other places for a class on digestion."
Sometimes we are drawn to a particular church after seeing their beautiful hair. Even ministers can be drawn in by a thick, full head of hair. Many years ago, before my husband and I learned to view our church family as hairless, we were drawn to a wonderful church where everyone had truly beautiful hair. It was a widely accepted fact that these people had the best hair in town. There was another church that sported more up-to-date hair styles but where sophistication was concerned, we were unsurpassed. After only a year we were disillussioned. We found that much of the hair was false and we began to hunger for something else.
Something like a class on digestion. I know digestion isn't as glamorous as hair but the stomach wants what it wants. We went to friends and suggested getting together weekly for a class on digestion but their response was negative: Wouldn't we have to memorize the food pyramid? Who's got the time?! I work all week and on the weekends I do my hair.
So we began to study digestion on our own and gradually others who had questions about digestion began to find their way to our doorstep. As a small group, we began to learn what to put into our bodies to improve digestion and what to leave off. We learned that God really communicates through digestion and seems to have no interest in hair. The hairy people noticed a difference but never understood our preoccupation with digestion and lack of interest in hair. Jesus said to his disciples in John 8:47, "He who is interested in digestion will have a relationship with God. The reason you have no evident relationship is because you are so preoccupied with hair." (This is also a paraphrase.)
As any woman can tell you, the quality of your hair is directly related to the quality of your digestion. As digestion improves, so does hair and the converse would also be true. People who were once so proud of their hair find it just doesn't keep them coming back to church. Only healthy digestion can do that. Full-bodied hair can be the reason for doing just about anything else on the sabbath.
And the answer? Full-bodied hair, of course. Isn't it obvious? God's people are intensly interested in their hair. We have entire rooms in our churches that are devoted to hair. If anyone comes along and says, "We should hold a class on digestion in this lovely room" the answer is, "This room is devoted to hair. There are other places for a class on digestion."
Sometimes we are drawn to a particular church after seeing their beautiful hair. Even ministers can be drawn in by a thick, full head of hair. Many years ago, before my husband and I learned to view our church family as hairless, we were drawn to a wonderful church where everyone had truly beautiful hair. It was a widely accepted fact that these people had the best hair in town. There was another church that sported more up-to-date hair styles but where sophistication was concerned, we were unsurpassed. After only a year we were disillussioned. We found that much of the hair was false and we began to hunger for something else.
Something like a class on digestion. I know digestion isn't as glamorous as hair but the stomach wants what it wants. We went to friends and suggested getting together weekly for a class on digestion but their response was negative: Wouldn't we have to memorize the food pyramid? Who's got the time?! I work all week and on the weekends I do my hair.
So we began to study digestion on our own and gradually others who had questions about digestion began to find their way to our doorstep. As a small group, we began to learn what to put into our bodies to improve digestion and what to leave off. We learned that God really communicates through digestion and seems to have no interest in hair. The hairy people noticed a difference but never understood our preoccupation with digestion and lack of interest in hair. Jesus said to his disciples in John 8:47, "He who is interested in digestion will have a relationship with God. The reason you have no evident relationship is because you are so preoccupied with hair." (This is also a paraphrase.)
As any woman can tell you, the quality of your hair is directly related to the quality of your digestion. As digestion improves, so does hair and the converse would also be true. People who were once so proud of their hair find it just doesn't keep them coming back to church. Only healthy digestion can do that. Full-bodied hair can be the reason for doing just about anything else on the sabbath.
Only those who learn the importance of digestion:
- Find cause to show up even when the people who lead the church are imperfect (His hair's a mess.)
- Find cause to involve themselves in what God is doing when others say, "My family is only interested in hair and it really keeps us busy."
- Come consistently when others say, "The wind.... My hair...."
- See the church's purpose as digestion and are even beginning to admit that Jesus may not have had silky smooth, shoulder-length, honey-brown hair; a theory that the full-bodied hair people find offensive.
So, like the Israelites, you have a choice in who you will serve. Will it be hair that grays and thins or digestion that promotes health in every aspect of life including your hair.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Fat Chinese Pianists Have Feelings Too
You would think that I would not have to say this but ....It is never appropriate to comment on a person's size. There is not a nice way to call a person "fat."
Recently, while listening to classical music on NPR, the announcer described the performer in the next recording as "a fleshy, Chinese pianist." I was aghast! Never would I have thought something so foul and inappropriate would come out of the mouth of any of those enlightened radio hosts. I waited to hear the retraction but nothing!
How is it that in this day and age when we are so accepting of the religious beliefs, parenting practices, sexuality, etc. of every individual....how is it that it is still OK to draw attention to a person's obesity. I am so livid that I plan to write my congressman and then remove NPR from my radio presets! Furthermore....
Oh, he said, "flashy."
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Armpit Children
The only things that flourish in an armpit are hair and bacteria. Children need more space and fresher air. You can usually tell when a child has spent too much time in the armpit. Aside from the odor, they have that wide-eyed expression indicating extreme discomfort with life outside the armpit.
A typical conversation with an "armpit child" will go like this:
Hi there, Mr. Personality. (I have changed the child's name because to actually identify him would be inappropriate.) The child looks shocked as if I've just stomped on his foot.
How old are you now, Mr. P? His eyes dart back and forth. I can tell he's contemplating running.
Can you tell Ms. Angela how old you are? This, of course, is his mother. She's the one with the armpit and is never far away. She looks at Mr. P hopefully. Maybe he will suddenly demonstrate some signs of life. He looks at her hopefully. Maybe she will answer for him like she always does.
After several seconds, Mother says, "He's ten. He's just a little shy."
What a relief! I thought he didn't know how old he is.
Ten year old Mr. P crawls back into the armpit looking relieved. Mother has explained his diagnosis of Terminal Shyness and now, hopefully, everyone will be sympathetic enough to ignore him.
Shyness isn't a birth defect to be massaged and excused. It isn't crippling until your mother turns it into a reason for not having friends, never participating in church, sports, choir, etc, or for just simple rudeness. A child should be able to answer simple questions. He/she may not like the interaction but they should be able to do it. Social skills are like a muscle; the more you use them, the stronger they get.
Let's face it. Some mothers enjoy being the cave their kids can crawl into. It keeps their kids close and when they do venture out, it keeps them running back. To continuously attribute stunted social skills to shyness is to build the mild social fears of a toddler into the massive wall of self-centeredness that vexes our society today. A child who can't tell you how old he is becomes a teenager who can't look up from his electronic game, a college student who can't go out without headphones, an adult who doesn't know how to respond when you introduce yourself. Parents who use shyness as an excuse are failing to recognize the potential in the child and the task before them to help the child realize that potential.
Shyness is nothing more than the fear that you will say or do the wrong thing, a feeling of inadequacy. With my own children I've tried to get them to see these conversations from the other persons point of view. "What will they think if you don't speak to them?" "How will that make them feel?" "They are speaking to you because they like you; not grilling you because there's something wrong with you." "It makes them happy when you speak back to them." "They think you're so smart."
My first child had to be prevented from leaving with the meter reader. The two children that have followed wouldn't speak to anyone if I didn't insist on it. The nine year old will now respond when spoken to and I continue to remind him when we go into social situations to consider the feelings of others instead of his own shyness. He'd be in my armpit now if he could. The third, a two year old, has a form of violent shyness. He used to try to hit anyone who attempted to draw him out. I put a stop to that but now he hits himself. Go figure. With time and consistency on my part that will change too.
Free up those armpits, ladies!
A typical conversation with an "armpit child" will go like this:
Hi there, Mr. Personality. (I have changed the child's name because to actually identify him would be inappropriate.) The child looks shocked as if I've just stomped on his foot.
How old are you now, Mr. P? His eyes dart back and forth. I can tell he's contemplating running.
Can you tell Ms. Angela how old you are? This, of course, is his mother. She's the one with the armpit and is never far away. She looks at Mr. P hopefully. Maybe he will suddenly demonstrate some signs of life. He looks at her hopefully. Maybe she will answer for him like she always does.
After several seconds, Mother says, "He's ten. He's just a little shy."
What a relief! I thought he didn't know how old he is.
Ten year old Mr. P crawls back into the armpit looking relieved. Mother has explained his diagnosis of Terminal Shyness and now, hopefully, everyone will be sympathetic enough to ignore him.
Shyness isn't a birth defect to be massaged and excused. It isn't crippling until your mother turns it into a reason for not having friends, never participating in church, sports, choir, etc, or for just simple rudeness. A child should be able to answer simple questions. He/she may not like the interaction but they should be able to do it. Social skills are like a muscle; the more you use them, the stronger they get.
Let's face it. Some mothers enjoy being the cave their kids can crawl into. It keeps their kids close and when they do venture out, it keeps them running back. To continuously attribute stunted social skills to shyness is to build the mild social fears of a toddler into the massive wall of self-centeredness that vexes our society today. A child who can't tell you how old he is becomes a teenager who can't look up from his electronic game, a college student who can't go out without headphones, an adult who doesn't know how to respond when you introduce yourself. Parents who use shyness as an excuse are failing to recognize the potential in the child and the task before them to help the child realize that potential.
Shyness is nothing more than the fear that you will say or do the wrong thing, a feeling of inadequacy. With my own children I've tried to get them to see these conversations from the other persons point of view. "What will they think if you don't speak to them?" "How will that make them feel?" "They are speaking to you because they like you; not grilling you because there's something wrong with you." "It makes them happy when you speak back to them." "They think you're so smart."
My first child had to be prevented from leaving with the meter reader. The two children that have followed wouldn't speak to anyone if I didn't insist on it. The nine year old will now respond when spoken to and I continue to remind him when we go into social situations to consider the feelings of others instead of his own shyness. He'd be in my armpit now if he could. The third, a two year old, has a form of violent shyness. He used to try to hit anyone who attempted to draw him out. I put a stop to that but now he hits himself. Go figure. With time and consistency on my part that will change too.
Free up those armpits, ladies!
Monday, September 29, 2008
Why I Hate Walmart
Why I Hate Walmart
It's 9:00 Monday morning and I know I had better get to Walmart now or the trip that should take one hour will end up lasting two. As a housewife I know that the best time to go to Walmart is just after I have dropped the kids off at school. No one is there except old ladies who have been up for hours and the other housewives who have already dropped their children off too.
All mothers know what a hellish experience it is to go through Walmart with school-aged children. The child sitting in the cart is crying and grabbing at anything and everything. The older more ambulatory child is hanging on the cart causing you to collide with other customers. As you careen down the aisles screaming at your children, the other customers roll their eyes, shake their heads, and go back to their search for canned mushrooms. You know this because that's what you did before you had kids.
You enter Walmart(Hell with Price Tags) and locate your personal shopping cart; the one they always set aside especially for you. You know....the one that pulls to the right. It requires both hands and considerable upper body strength to maneuver. You'd go back for another but you do not realize you have the "special cart" until you have placed about four items into it and have tried unsuccessfully to make a left turn. "I can do this" you say to yourself. You press forward like Ann Boleyn to the chopping block.
You chart your course for the crafts and fabric section. It is in the far back corner and you know you will not be bothered by much traffic there. You can browse in peace. And sure enough, it is quite deserted....by employees. In the aisle marked "Beads and Crafts" four desperate women have wedged their shopping carts. There they stand, hunched over the beads, each contemplating a small package of shiny, colorful, glass balls. You know what they are thinking: If I buy a $5 pack of beads and they are the wrong color, texture, or size, do I want to come back and spend an hour of my time trying to return them?
Up at the cloth cutting counter you hear someone ringing the bell for service. You silently laugh to yourself, "What a fool! Have they ever shopped at Walmart before?" A shuffling sound startles you. From your vantage point in the beads, you see a lone figure in a blue vest slowly making their way toward the cutting counter. The look on the employee's face says, "Who is ringing that bell? How am I supposed to get these fake flowers color coded if customers keep interrupting me? They should not even let customers back here until 10:00 when I go on my break."
Now that you know someone is working the cutting counter, you head in that direction with your selections. When you arrive, you are the fourth person in line. The customer at the head of the line is purchasing seven different shades of gray fabric. Obviously, there is a Civil War reenactment going on this weekend. The lady behind you has a crying baby. She frantically tries to mix a bottle of formula and answer her cell phone at the same time. You would offer to help but you know that would probably cause the roof to collapse. This you intuitively know because no one has ever offered to help in Walmart before and it is this strict lack of customer service that supports the entire company. It may even be the force that keeps the Earth spinning. You are not sure but either way, it is obvious that there is something vital to Walmart about refusing assistance of any kind.
After waiting forty five minutes to have six inches of pink grosgrain ribbon cut, you head to the grocery section because you too need canned mushrooms. You know that Kroger, Sav-a-Lot, and Marketplace all stack the canned mushrooms in the canned vegetable aisle so that means that Walmart might stack them with the bananas or maybe they will be in soft drinks this week.
Through the maze you wander, one aisle wide enough for four shopping carts to walk abreast; one aisle dark and narrow like....Walmart. In the narrow aisle an employee has parked a large cart filled with boxes. He stands chatting with another employee. They both had great weekends and need to discuss this now because their breaks are not for another twenty minutes. You very carefully squeeze your cart past the box-laden dolly. They do not acknowledge you or the fact that they are blocking the aisle. There must be a training class called "How to Ignore the Customer." These guys are probably instructors or something. You think you are going to pass your thirty inch cart through the twenty-six inch opening without incident. Then it happens. You lightly tap the dolly. The "instructors" abruptly cease their conversation and turn in your direction. Their expressions say, "You gotta problem with this huge dolly being in the middle of this aisle?" For a split second you are terrified. You move on shame-faced, smiling obsequiously and whispering apologies for being so bold as to come down this particular aisle where so much important work is being done.
The search for canned mushrooms is going no where. You have even resorted to pacing up and down the canned vegetable aisle. You check three times because you know that when you finally go for help, the drop-out in the blue vest will find them in the place you just looked.
So where do you think Walmart hides canned mushrooms? Why, with the canned tomatoes, of course. Duh!!!! Which, by the way, are not with the canned vegetables either. If you ask why canned tomatoes and mushrooms are not with canned vegetables the answer will be, "Because that is where THEY specified canned tomatoes and mushrooms should be." THEY being someone in Benton, Arkansas who knows that housewives respond to being ignored. It makes us desperate for more. THEY know that we love to wander aimlessly through a store pushing a shopping cart that pulls to the right. How else are we to get our exercise? THEY know that we crave time for contemplation, hence the long waits for assistance, check out, photo developing, pharmacy, etc.
Yes, I will probably continue to go back to Walmart. I have to if I want groceries AND pantyhose or groceries AND a potted plant or groceries AND a bath towel. I guess that makes me Walmart's....favorite customer.
It's 9:00 Monday morning and I know I had better get to Walmart now or the trip that should take one hour will end up lasting two. As a housewife I know that the best time to go to Walmart is just after I have dropped the kids off at school. No one is there except old ladies who have been up for hours and the other housewives who have already dropped their children off too.
All mothers know what a hellish experience it is to go through Walmart with school-aged children. The child sitting in the cart is crying and grabbing at anything and everything. The older more ambulatory child is hanging on the cart causing you to collide with other customers. As you careen down the aisles screaming at your children, the other customers roll their eyes, shake their heads, and go back to their search for canned mushrooms. You know this because that's what you did before you had kids.
You enter Walmart(Hell with Price Tags) and locate your personal shopping cart; the one they always set aside especially for you. You know....the one that pulls to the right. It requires both hands and considerable upper body strength to maneuver. You'd go back for another but you do not realize you have the "special cart" until you have placed about four items into it and have tried unsuccessfully to make a left turn. "I can do this" you say to yourself. You press forward like Ann Boleyn to the chopping block.
You chart your course for the crafts and fabric section. It is in the far back corner and you know you will not be bothered by much traffic there. You can browse in peace. And sure enough, it is quite deserted....by employees. In the aisle marked "Beads and Crafts" four desperate women have wedged their shopping carts. There they stand, hunched over the beads, each contemplating a small package of shiny, colorful, glass balls. You know what they are thinking: If I buy a $5 pack of beads and they are the wrong color, texture, or size, do I want to come back and spend an hour of my time trying to return them?
Up at the cloth cutting counter you hear someone ringing the bell for service. You silently laugh to yourself, "What a fool! Have they ever shopped at Walmart before?" A shuffling sound startles you. From your vantage point in the beads, you see a lone figure in a blue vest slowly making their way toward the cutting counter. The look on the employee's face says, "Who is ringing that bell? How am I supposed to get these fake flowers color coded if customers keep interrupting me? They should not even let customers back here until 10:00 when I go on my break."
Now that you know someone is working the cutting counter, you head in that direction with your selections. When you arrive, you are the fourth person in line. The customer at the head of the line is purchasing seven different shades of gray fabric. Obviously, there is a Civil War reenactment going on this weekend. The lady behind you has a crying baby. She frantically tries to mix a bottle of formula and answer her cell phone at the same time. You would offer to help but you know that would probably cause the roof to collapse. This you intuitively know because no one has ever offered to help in Walmart before and it is this strict lack of customer service that supports the entire company. It may even be the force that keeps the Earth spinning. You are not sure but either way, it is obvious that there is something vital to Walmart about refusing assistance of any kind.
After waiting forty five minutes to have six inches of pink grosgrain ribbon cut, you head to the grocery section because you too need canned mushrooms. You know that Kroger, Sav-a-Lot, and Marketplace all stack the canned mushrooms in the canned vegetable aisle so that means that Walmart might stack them with the bananas or maybe they will be in soft drinks this week.
Through the maze you wander, one aisle wide enough for four shopping carts to walk abreast; one aisle dark and narrow like....Walmart. In the narrow aisle an employee has parked a large cart filled with boxes. He stands chatting with another employee. They both had great weekends and need to discuss this now because their breaks are not for another twenty minutes. You very carefully squeeze your cart past the box-laden dolly. They do not acknowledge you or the fact that they are blocking the aisle. There must be a training class called "How to Ignore the Customer." These guys are probably instructors or something. You think you are going to pass your thirty inch cart through the twenty-six inch opening without incident. Then it happens. You lightly tap the dolly. The "instructors" abruptly cease their conversation and turn in your direction. Their expressions say, "You gotta problem with this huge dolly being in the middle of this aisle?" For a split second you are terrified. You move on shame-faced, smiling obsequiously and whispering apologies for being so bold as to come down this particular aisle where so much important work is being done.
The search for canned mushrooms is going no where. You have even resorted to pacing up and down the canned vegetable aisle. You check three times because you know that when you finally go for help, the drop-out in the blue vest will find them in the place you just looked.
So where do you think Walmart hides canned mushrooms? Why, with the canned tomatoes, of course. Duh!!!! Which, by the way, are not with the canned vegetables either. If you ask why canned tomatoes and mushrooms are not with canned vegetables the answer will be, "Because that is where THEY specified canned tomatoes and mushrooms should be." THEY being someone in Benton, Arkansas who knows that housewives respond to being ignored. It makes us desperate for more. THEY know that we love to wander aimlessly through a store pushing a shopping cart that pulls to the right. How else are we to get our exercise? THEY know that we crave time for contemplation, hence the long waits for assistance, check out, photo developing, pharmacy, etc.
Yes, I will probably continue to go back to Walmart. I have to if I want groceries AND pantyhose or groceries AND a potted plant or groceries AND a bath towel. I guess that makes me Walmart's....favorite customer.
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