Thursday, January 30, 2014Just Drink the Kool-Aid
I have no idea how I'm just now mentioning it, but I received a SodaStream for Christmas. And the angels sang, and unicorns shot rainbows out of their butts, and BEHOLD IT IS GLORIOUS.
I kind of love the thing. Can you tell?
In my quest to make use of it as much as possible, I have let Alexis pick some flavors of mix that she might like. She picked out Root Beer (which she loves) and she picked out Tropical Punch Kool-Aid.
The Kool-Aid gets no love.
It's so-so, in my opinion. It's not gross, but as someone who grew up thinking the only beverage available in the whole wide world was Kool-Aid because that was all that was ever in our house, I could do without drinking it ever again. EVER EVER AGAIN.
So that means I've got this bottle of Kool-Aid crap that I have zero interest in using, and she-who-picked-it doesn't really want it either. But, hey! Alexis had a not-party for her birthday last weekend! Guess who grabbed the SodaStream and the Kool-Aid with full intentions of giving it to other people's kids?
Oh, I did.
Despite the fact that they were staying over so I had to deal with the sugar high, I determined it was worth the stress. I packed up that Kool-Aid and I mixed up a bottle then gave it to the mini herd of kids.
I was very pleased with myself.
But then one of the kids found the bottle of Root Beer mix and was CAN WE HAVE ROOT BEER? PLEASE? HOW ABOUT NOW? CAN WE HAVE ROOT BEER NOW? HOW ABOUT NOW? PLEEEEASE?
So much for my plot to have them go through at least half of that Kool-Aid crap.
I resigned myself to the knowledge that once the kids tried the Root Beer, the Kool-Aid crap was going to get kicked to the curb. So, I created a rule. "You have to finish all of the Kool-Aid before I can make any more soda," I told them.
It didn't really stop the nagging. PLEEEEASE. ROOT BEER. PLEEEEASE.
The good news is that my kid has met me. The even better news is that she knows harassing me gets her nowhere. So, not only did she fail to join in on the harassment, she turned to her friends and declared, "Everybody has to drink the Kool-Aid."
Go ahead. Try and explain to Alexis why I'm still laughing about that. I've tried and she totally doesn't get it.
8 Going on 80
I don't recall exactly why I started, but I've been calling Alexis "Grandma" for a while now.
You guys, the kid is 8 going on 80. No joke.
Never has that been so evident as this past Saturday when Alexis and some of her friends celebrated her birthday with a little sleepover and some swimming at a local hotel. It wasn't her party, per se, as that is coming next weekend, but it was a chance for her to enjoy just a couple of her favoritest people for a night.
She managed that part, by the way. She enjoyed her peoples for sure.
It was everyone else who was a problem.
I happen to know for a fact that the hotel we were at doesn't do birthday parties. I called and asked. And yet, when we walked into the pool area, there were 15 or so little girls who were clearly together for a party.
Whatever.
There were a dozen logistical reasons why whoever decided to hold a party there made a mistake, but they seemed to have a found to make it work for them ... at the expense of everyone else.
So, it wasn't a big pool, and it became even smaller when it became half-filled with the crew that was all together. It became even smaller as they continued to do things that were , well, if *my* kid had been doing many of those things, she would have been in Big Trouble, Mister.
Splashing someone in the face = a bad decision.
Jumping and diving into the shallow end = another bad decision.
Running all around the edge of the pool = a VERY bad decision.
Screaming and saying mean things = still another bad decision.
But, the other girls were doing it. No matter, though, I told our group to hang out in the deep end of the pool and ignore it all. That plot mostly worked, except for the part where Grandma Alexis couldn't stand all the bad decisions floating around. I lost count of how many times she walked up to me to give me grief about how they were making too much noise, carrying on too much, and wouldn't get off her lawn.
"Mom, you picked the wrong hotel. You were supposed to pick one that has an empty pool," she told me.
LET ME GET RIGHT ON THAT, KID.
The best, though, was one of those moments that's pretty much a "you had to be there" moment. (The fact that it won't be as funny in writing totally isn't going to stop me from putting here, though. Some things just need to be remembered.) Alexis came over to me to rat out the other kids for something or other. She did so in her usual grandma tone, a tone which implies that she is much older and much wiser than anyone her own age. As she was carrying on about how irresponsible and annoying something they were doing was, I finally said, "Ok, grandma. I get what you're saying."
She responded in her usual way. "I'm not a grandma," she insisted.
But this time, she did it even as she wrapped a towel around her wet hair just like grandma would.
So.
Grandma status confirmed. For sure.
(Speaking of bad decisions, it turns out that Alexis has been getting around my "no bikinis" rule by wearing tankinis much longer than I would suggest. That right there is a size 4t swimsuit and the stinker has been wearing it at school for swimming class. SHE IS SO BUSTED.)
