The Call of the Crustacean

I was tempted by a lobster a few weeks ago.

The grocery store was having a huge sale on lobster. I love lobster, but like so many things in life I prefer to have it already … indistinguishable as a life form. Yes, I’m one of those people who’s squeamish about killing things.

Harsher, perhaps more honest, people would call me a hypocrite since I will eat living things but opt for the emotional distance that comes from having it wrapped in cling wrap and Styrofoam with a nicely typed label.

The reality is that we live our life around here with out ever having to cut the head off anything and then have it running around like… well, you know. And I just don’t like being the hand of fate that reaches down and says, “That one is dinner! Bwaaa ha ha ha!”

Still, I was tempted. After all, a sale is a sale. I was this close to picking up a lobster. I walked over to the lobsters’ wading pool, where there were little cartoon shellfish decorating it in a sort of odd ironic twist. The lobsters were crawling around enthusiastically, their little rubber band claws up in the air as if they were asking to be selected for dinner with the Prosapios.

Then I thought of Caspian.

Caspian is a snail. I imagine I’m not the first mom to be horrified to find a snail crawling on my daughters lunch only to learn that it is not only an invited guest, but has already been named and has appropriated a large plastic Tupperware container as his castle.

So there was snail, aka Caspian, crawling along the plate, his slimy antennae moving in and out of his head and I thought, this is getting out of control. We already have a reptile, rodents, a feline, canines… and now something without a spine. What’s next?

It would be Larry the lobster if I carried one of those things home. There’s not a chance I’d get him in a pot. Then I’d lose a bathtub, not to mention probably a tip of a toe if he ever escaped.

Wisely, for once, I waved goodbye to the pool of lobsters. Hopefully a few will be back in the tank where we can visit them like animals in a sort of culinary zoo.

And I’d keep all my toes intact.

Queen of School Supplies

When I am queen of the universe (I’m sure my paperwork will arrive any day now), one of the first things I’m going to do is fix the school supply thing.

When I am queen, shopping for school supplies will no longer be the all day march through aisle after aisle, store after store, like a deranged scavenger hunt. There will be no more looking for two days for map pencils. Or blue, green, yellow, red AND purple folders. But not just plain folders in these specific colors – folders with brads AND pockets in these specific colors.

I have to tell you, in my day, school supplies were limited to the basics: writing implements of either ink or lead and a tablet. That’s it.

Now school supply lists are like some kids’ Christmas lists. Red pens? 150 Sanitary Wipes? Sharpies with fine points? We don’t even allow our kids play with Sharpies at home ever since they started to paint the dogs, fine point or not!

So, it goes without saying that I have a few ideas on how to improve the entire school supply system.

Yes, when I’m queen the following rules will be in place:

1. Map pencils will be called by their proper names – colored pencils (thanks to the teacher in aisle 12 who helped me avoid a total meltdown looking for map pencils, which I assumed were attached to some sort of road maps).

2. If all the store has with brads and pockets is yellow folders, then the class will just deal with having yellow folders. That’s what the half dozen sharpies are for, right? Just write RED at the top. Problem solved.

3. School supplies are limited to the school supply aisle only. Tissue paper and cleaning supplies are to be moved into the school supply aisle for four weeks leading up to school.

4. More items will be available in pink. With glitter where possible.

5. All major stores are to get their school supply list early and stock what’s ON THE LIST ONLY. If anyone needs 64 crayons, drop me a line.

6. Better yet, stores will be required to prepackage all the basics materials in a ready made box you can just pick up at the back of the store. Then all parents’ have to contend with is a pencil box and insulated lunch sack, in pink, covered in glitter.

Ah, it will be so good to be queen.

Sneakers to Stilettos? But she's in 2nd grade!

It happened two years ago. Sierra crossed the aisle.

I was digging out a few more boxes in the shoe store when I heard her say "These are too tight! My toes hurt."

"No way."

They were size four ballet flats. Already up from the threes we bought two months earlier. This meant that we were about to leave the land of mary janes and shoes with cartoon characters and enter - - the stiletto zone.

Most people don't worry about these things, but I have a daughter with an unhealthy interest in shoes with a certain glam factor. Shoes with glitter and rhinestones. Shoes that scream Liberace and Elvis meet Imelda Marcos.

It's something she inherited from her father. Not that he likes his shoes with glitter. He just has no sense that these are not options for 2nd graders. I had sent them off to the mall with these instructions:

"Sierra needs shoes good for running around."

She came back with gold lamé wedge heel mules. With sequins.

Perhaps I needed to provide a better definition of "running around." Perhaps I needed to point out these were supposed to be for running around with her classmates, not one of the Village People.

Needless to say, Daddy is now banned from shoe shopping.

So crossing the aisle in the shoe department is crossing into dangerous territory with my girl. She headed for the red pumps like a woman with a charge card. I quickly steered her to the triple-priced size five shoes suitable for swings and slides, which, thank goodness, are still the main form of outdoor entertainment for her.

Something has happened this year. Someone has hit the accelerator and both my kids have gone from a nice, steady development course to a rocket ship out of clothes that end with the letter T for toddler and are hurtling head first into T for Teen.

Of course it doesn't help that all the clothes for girls in this size range do tend to be better suited to gold lamé wedge heeled mules with sequins than mary janes. By third grade, apparently, I'm supposed to dress my daughters like extras on a Disney music video. (Yes, even Disney has gone bare belly on us.)

With any luck I'll be able to keep Sierra in tennies and cowboy boots a few more years. But they'll have to have sequins.

The Easter Dress Search

Mireya is great fun to shop with. Sierra would rather chew through a bear trap than try on clothes, but her sister loves nothing better than trying on dozens of clothes. Say dressing room and you've got a friend for life.

Once in the store, it's all I can do to keep her away from sequins and polyester. I'm thinking she's a reincarnation of some broadway diva. Maybe a distant relative of Liberace.

Fortunately she has a thing for tradition too, and here were the finalists in the Easter dress selection.

#1 Judges' Comments: Mommy, I like this one because it spins out really cool.

#2 Judges' Comments: It has sparklies.

#3 Judges' Comments: Nice sweater.

#4 Judges' Comments: I like the slip and the see through. And the pink flowers.

#5 Judges' Comments: It's a little puffy.

After several agonizing minutes we ended up with two (and both were worn for Easter). After all, a girl has to change after church.

The shoes were killer, though.

There's simple nothing better than little girls in Easter dresses.

Here's big sister too...

Now that process was a complete disaster. First of all, she didn't come along to buy her dress, which, given how much she HATES shopping, I thought was a blessing. Not so much. She apparently grew a size since our last shopping outing and so I actually bought a dress one size too small. Ditto with the shoes.

Luckily with a little creative engineering, the whole thing hung together long enough for church, pictures, one Easter egg hunt and dinner. Never to be worn again. Anyone need a size 10 Easter dress with matching 8 mules?


(They are with Roxi, the newest addition to our household, which is a whole other blogpost.)

Bag, Man...

Dearest bagger,

At this time it seems necessary to explain to you what your goal is when packing my groceries into bags. I say this because clearly something has gone terribly wrong with the training you’ve received thus far. Remember this lesson – always blame management. It’ll take you far in this world.
Number one: You are not my personal trainer. It is not your mission to provide me with a weight training program by packing items into bags so they reach a weight of 75 pounds. It defeats the whole “bagging” thing when I have to remove things from the bag in order to carry the bag. Trust me, you are not developing my triceps.

Number two: This is not Sesame Street. The goal is not to place all similar things together. Think about it. These are groceries. All of these things all ready go together. This is particularly true if it will result in the aforementioned 75 pound bag. I cite specifically your obsession with canned goods.

Number three: This is not one giant Tetris game. The goal is not to maximize spatial relationships. Believe it or not, packing things tightly together actually does not result in safer transport. I cite my punctured carton of milk as the most recent example.

Number four: Appreciate the miracle that I remembered my bags from the trunk of my car. Please fight that primal bagger urge to put at least one thing in a plastic bag. Particularly when I have 20 bags of assorted shapes and sizes for you to work with. I’ve tried to put some variety and spice in this for you, surely there’s a bag there you can use for that candy bar.

Number five: Milk is heavy. Adhere to the two half gallon cartons per bag limit. Do not, under any circumstances consider that a waste of a bag. Just because there are only two items in the bag doesn’t mean you must add other items to the bag, particularly sharp, pointed items in a tight bag (see number three).

Number six: Marshmallows. They are not the grocery store equivalent of packing peanuts. Trust me, the taste loses something under extreme compression.

I hope these six guidelines help. Remember, baggers of the world, your job, thankless as it can be, is the final lap in the grocery run relay.

Don’t drop the baton on the bananas.

Take my child, PLEASE

On Sale in the Produce Aisle…

The other day at the grocery store, a man offered me his child.

And I completely understood.

It was one of those moments when you size up what's been going on between a parent and child in .05 seconds and think, thank goodness I left mine at home.

I'd walked into the store without my children, for once. And like every time I'm without them, I get this silly, almost nostalgic attitude toward all other children. Children I never even notice since I'm usually busy trying to keep mine from knocking over the huge soda display or tossing six toys into the cart and covering them with the bread so I won't see them until we're in the checkout.

There she was, with the cutest pair of ponytails sticking straight up. She was maybe two years old, and was not sitting in her seat in the cart, but slightly above it, her father keeping her safe.
"She's so adorable," I said as I headed toward the broccoli.

He took one look at me, lifted her up, and pretended to hand her over. That's when I saw it. This child had just completed a full-blown melt down.

She had all the classic post melt down signs. Glistening eyes. Ruddy cheeks. Calm behavior.
And he had the classic survivor signs. Stiff back. Throbbing temple. Expressionless face.

I wanted to say, I have so been there, Mister. I feel your pain.

Instead, I just laughed as he cracked a slight, weary smile.

Yes, I've been to melt down land, to that moment when you wonder about not only your child but the entire human race. Is this any way to populate a planet? Fill it with crazed people who at any given moment will have a total cow in the grocery store and refuse to sit in the cart with their seatbelt as is CLEARLY indicated on the illustrations?


Frankly my children modeled for the illustrations of what NOT to do on the grocery cart.(That's Mireya in the last circle)

So I turned down the little girl with the ponytails that day. Cute or not, I know now what I'd be getting into.

Plus I finally got mine to sit down!

Okay, just for a minute, but, hey, it's progress.

My new favorite baby shirt