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Saturday
Sep202008

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

Once upon a time, Dawn lent me a ponytail holder during a softball game. There was nothing special about the ponytail holder, it was just a chunky silver/gray band that came in very handy in keeping my hair out of my face on a hot Wednesday night. Giving me the ponytail holder was a kind gesture, or so I thought.

Holy hellinahandbasket do I hate that ponytail holder.

I'm a loser and forgot to give it back to Dawn at the end of the game. Instead, I took it home and tossed it onto a side table. Alexis found it, decided that it was a "bwacewet" and made it her own. She stuck that sucker around her wrist and toddled around with it there all day.

Somehow she ended up losing it for a few weeks, but it was recently rediscovered. In fact, it was rediscovered last Wednesday. Alexis was the one to find it, and she was quick to shove it back on her wrist. She went to daycare with it still securely in place. She came home with it still securely in place. She went to sleep with it still firmly in place.

The following morning I decreed that 24 hours is the maximum allowed time for any accessory to stay on a short person's body, so I slipped it off while taking Alexis' pajamas off. She didn't notice, and I figured we were done with the "grey bracewet" for a few days.

Uh, no.

Because I'm an idiot.

When we went to ride bikes later that evening, I happened to grab that exact ponytail holder on my way out the door. I twisted it around a nice neat ponytail behind me head as I walked to the car, not even thinking about the drama that could ensue. Once we arrived at the bike trail, as per usual, Alexis immediately set to ripping the ponytail holder out of my hair. She has issues and can't stand my hair up, so I didn't even think to stop her.

The moment that she realized she had THE ponytail holder was priceless. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree and she quickly put her Gray Bwacewet on. I, being an idiot, was all, "HEY! That's my ponytail holder! I need it!"

Oops.

Um, toddlers don't share. And they certainly don't willingly hand over cherished items. After a few minutes of attempting rational negotiation, I stooped to the two-year old's level and just snagged the thing then jumped on my bike and took off. I figured Alexis would realize she had books and dolls and all kinds of fun stuff in the bike trailer and would immediately forget about her bwacewet.

See? I'm an idiot.

Mr. Husband finally caught up with me about ten minutes later. Alexis had been screaming the whole. freakin. time. Non-stop. He says people were actually staring at him because she was WAILING as if she was going to die. Surely that has happened--kids die from not wearing bwacewets all the time.

When will I ever learn not to get between a girl and her accessories?

Friday
Sep192008

A Test of Control Issues (or Something)

I think we have pretty much established that I could give a rat's hiney if Alexis plays with "messy" artsy craftsy stuff. I drag out the finger paints, leave open access to crayons and markers, and encourage the chalk. I've been known to help her paint her hands to make hand-prints, I absolutely join her in coloring everything in sight, and have no problem letting her do about anything short of taking a bath in permanent marker. As long as it's washable, I'm all good.

However, it has come to my attention that not everybody sails in the same ship as I do. So, does this make you go -meh- or make you want to go screaming for your mommy?

Thursday
Sep182008

Further Proof that I AM an Evil Mother

Ever since gas prices became the least funny joke in the history of jokes, I've had to change up my grocery buying habits. While I once was willing to cruise six miles to get to a Big Fancy Pretty Store even if I only needed one thing, now I'm forced to go to a little place I like to call Try 'n Save. Try 'n Save is RIDICULOUSLY expensive and it makes me crazy. However, it's so close to our house that I could probably strap a credit card to the Bulldog, throw a stick, and have her come back with a gallon of milk. You know, if the Bully were smart enough to be useful and stuff.

After a few weeks of having to slum it at Try 'n Save, I have come to realize that they reason they are so expensive is that they are all about the customer service. It's not that they provide good customer service, because HAHAHAHAHAHA! As if! It's that they try to do little things that maybe sort of make a difference.

For example, if it's raining? The cart guys are standing by the door with giant umbrellas. They chase you to and fro, forcing you to walk under their green and white rain protection. Don't bother telling them "no" because that doesn't work. They MUST keep you from having so much as a drop of rain touch you're little head.

I'm OK with it.

What I'm not OK with is the fact that the "Good Customer Service" is clearly forced. Another of their little gimmicks is that they offer kids a balloon and lollipop. Sure, that's sounds like a nice thing to do, but they do it at the check out when you're on your way out. Um, hello? Try 'n Save? Audrey does not appreciate lollipops. At all. In fact, she whimpers anytime something sticky and wet comes within thirty feet of her. I've even caught Audrey trying to slam her doors when the Toddler walked up to her. Sticky + 2-year old = bad.

As for the balloon, the Toddler still likes to try to find out if balloons are really just giant lollipops and she wants to know how many licks it takes to get to the Tootsie Roll. *Chomp!* Yeah. I could do without having my kid scream because she scared the poop out of herself biting a balloon. I wouldn't mind so much if we were partaking in that fun family activity while shopping, but I sure as heck ain't doing it in the car where I can't share the joy with 50+ strangers. That sort of entertainment requires an audience.

So every time the Toddler and I get to the checkout, someone wanders up and asks if the short person can have a balloon. I very much so appreciate that they ask, because the answer is ALWAYS, "No, thank you." Always. I'm not entirely sure why they ask, though, because when I say no? They usually look at me with a wounded expression usually reserved for the death of puppies and the realization that Santa is a drunk. If I don't get that lovely look, then I get a Jedi Death Glare. It's as if I am a Horrible No Good Mother because I deprive my kid of balloons and lollipops.

I hate when customer services comes complete with a heavy dose of guilt.

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We're donating all September ad revenue to the Flight 93 Memorial Fund, and at this point we're not quite on track to reach the imaginary goal I have set. Every little click helps the cause, so why not take a second and read all about the about how Audrey and I like to screw with each others heads (she has yet to beat me), or about the time I finally realized it was safe to shop with the Toddler in tow?