Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Friday, April 8, 2011
Blow up Dolls and Fake Hair
Priceless "parenting" advice from a friend....
Most of you are aware that I have temporarily replaced my Social Work hat for diaper changing and childherding care. Occasionally, I come across a child that seems to have an extra secure attachment to their parents (that is pc for a lot of tears...mine!). Over that past 3+ years I've collected some useful tools that almost always work.Almost.
During a recent "trouble shooting" session with my friend,I explained that this precious child needed to be held a bit more than the other children could afford. My friend came up with the following suggestion: "Maybe you could ease him by buying a blow up doll and put clothes on it?" Hmmmm.....no words. My friend backed up her suggestion with a personal example, "My mom used to keep my little cousin during the work week. The only way that baby would nap was if she was touching hair. My sis had a mannequin head from cosmetology school so, we would lay it in the crib with the baby. She would play and sleep very well."
I normally feel the need to end the story with a little humor....not today.
Most of you are aware that I have temporarily replaced my Social Work hat for diaper changing and child
During a recent "trouble shooting" session with my friend,I explained that this precious child needed to be held a bit more than the other children could afford. My friend came up with the following suggestion: "Maybe you could ease him by buying a blow up doll and put clothes on it?" Hmmmm.....no words. My friend backed up her suggestion with a personal example, "My mom used to keep my little cousin during the work week. The only way that baby would nap was if she was touching hair. My sis had a mannequin head from cosmetology school so, we would lay it in the crib with the baby. She would play and sleep very well."
I normally feel the need to end the story with a little humor....not today.
Monday, June 14, 2010
4AM Freak Out
I wake up;hearing someone knocking outside my window. Not sure of the time but, it is definitely dark. There they go again...tap,tap,tap. Sounds like they are knocking on my heat pump/air thingy. I lay still, trying to decide the best route to the window that will keep me out of the line of fire (I know, I live in East TN...not exactly 8 mile BUT).They keep on knocking sometimes 3taps, sometimes more.
I'm going through my list of people that could be outside...surprisingly, I could think of a few. I roll over to see if Mike is on high alert. He's dead to the world. Get up and Check on Lily;she's snuggled.Levi,slightly disgruntled by the knocking but, making it work. Slide over to the window,gently move an inch of the curtain back. The neighbor's sensor light kicks on.Blinding. The person knocks again. Crap! Time to wake up the head of the household.
Mike wakes, yells out "what's going on?!" I explain.We wait for the sound...NOTHING. Figures. Right before I can go into my "you take your car in to the shop with a rattle..." analogy, they knock again. Mike slips out of bed. Don't ask me where they came from but my husband is now wearing his Marine Corp camo pants (no, I'm not making this up....he didn't even slip into a telephone booth or anything!) and he is going downstairs. I grab the phone so I will be able to call 911 when the shooting begins, and go down with him.
Mike checks all the locks and windows. We check in on Austin. He's safe and sound, probably dreaming of kittens swatting at butterflies. After everything seems to be checking out, Mike, cracks open the door and calls out to Rubydog...she finally waddles over to the door and plops down. We've been up for at least 45minutes When Mike's "Fight or FIGHT" (Semper Fi) kicks in; he goes out the front door. Left alone in the living room,wondering about his life insurance policy; I listen for his war cry. Mike comse back in, everything is clear. It's now 4:50AM, if we hurry, we can sleep in for 30minutes till the alarm goes off.
Still a little unsettled, we go back to bed after checking on the babies on more time. I lay down. Before Mike can take off his field gear, they start knocking again! Mike tracks the sound.....all the way to our floor fan. The blades apparently need to be tightened up a bit.
I'm going through my list of people that could be outside...surprisingly, I could think of a few. I roll over to see if Mike is on high alert. He's dead to the world. Get up and Check on Lily;she's snuggled.Levi,slightly disgruntled by the knocking but, making it work. Slide over to the window,gently move an inch of the curtain back. The neighbor's sensor light kicks on.Blinding. The person knocks again. Crap! Time to wake up the head of the household.
Mike wakes, yells out "what's going on?!" I explain.We wait for the sound...NOTHING. Figures. Right before I can go into my "you take your car in to the shop with a rattle..." analogy, they knock again. Mike slips out of bed. Don't ask me where they came from but my husband is now wearing his Marine Corp camo pants (no, I'm not making this up....he didn't even slip into a telephone booth or anything!) and he is going downstairs. I grab the phone so I will be able to call 911 when the shooting begins, and go down with him.
Mike checks all the locks and windows. We check in on Austin. He's safe and sound, probably dreaming of kittens swatting at butterflies. After everything seems to be checking out, Mike, cracks open the door and calls out to Rubydog...she finally waddles over to the door and plops down. We've been up for at least 45minutes When Mike's "Fight or FIGHT" (Semper Fi) kicks in; he goes out the front door. Left alone in the living room,wondering about his life insurance policy; I listen for his war cry. Mike comse back in, everything is clear. It's now 4:50AM, if we hurry, we can sleep in for 30minutes till the alarm goes off.
Still a little unsettled, we go back to bed after checking on the babies on more time. I lay down. Before Mike can take off his field gear, they start knocking again! Mike tracks the sound.....all the way to our floor fan. The blades apparently need to be tightened up a bit.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
The French call them "fraises."
Mr. Kellogg,
Just curious, what are you doing with your red berry supply anyway? They certainly are not in the Red Berry Cereal anymore! I pour myself a bowl, and all I see are red flecks in my milk. Walk to the frozen section of the grocery store for Red Berry waffles and I am met with an apology note from you (btw, thank you for realizing I am a valued customer). You definitely are not wasting the "red berry" on your strawberry krispy treats...what gives?Why are the berry farmers holding out on you? There seems to be berries o'plenty in the fresh and frozen produce section...can you not afford the "red berry?" Surely at $3.49/box for cereal you could buy a quart or two. Like Kevin Bacon, were you the victim of Mr. Madoff's Ponzi scheme? Maybe it's not about money at all? Maybe, you have never made the connection between the "red berry" and the "strawberry," regardless, I hope this ends soon!
Just curious, what are you doing with your red berry supply anyway? They certainly are not in the Red Berry Cereal anymore! I pour myself a bowl, and all I see are red flecks in my milk. Walk to the frozen section of the grocery store for Red Berry waffles and I am met with an apology note from you (btw, thank you for realizing I am a valued customer). You definitely are not wasting the "red berry" on your strawberry krispy treats...what gives?Why are the berry farmers holding out on you? There seems to be berries o'plenty in the fresh and frozen produce section...can you not afford the "red berry?" Surely at $3.49/box for cereal you could buy a quart or two. Like Kevin Bacon, were you the victim of Mr. Madoff's Ponzi scheme? Maybe it's not about money at all? Maybe, you have never made the connection between the "red berry" and the "strawberry," regardless, I hope this ends soon!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Obama Made her do it.
So while setting up my blog, I'm wondering if I really have enough material to really justify this space...and, then I notice this young girl sneaking around my yard. At first, i think nothing of the girl walking through my yard, after all, walking seems to be a neighborhood favorite on pretty days. I ignore her as she passes through my yard a second time and I continue to set up my blog. About ten minutes pass, the girl is back and she keeps squatting down....this prompts me to inspect further. The girl is completely weighed down with a arm load of fresh picked flowers....from my yard! Channeling my inner hateful granny, I go out and tell this child to kindly get off my property. The girl looks a little confused and scared (which, I actually kinda enjoy) as she picks one last bloom and takes off running.
My poor yard is now full of beautiful green stems...I guess there's always next bloom season. Later, mentioning this strange "episode" to my husband who has been devastated all day by the Health Care reform; and he all but curses Obama for our flowerless yard. "Obama, is teaching this young generation that they do not have to work for anything...they can have what others have earned for free! Free flowers for everyone except for those who work!"
A chicken in every pot; a flower in every vase!
My poor yard is now full of beautiful green stems...I guess there's always next bloom season. Later, mentioning this strange "episode" to my husband who has been devastated all day by the Health Care reform; and he all but curses Obama for our flowerless yard. "Obama, is teaching this young generation that they do not have to work for anything...they can have what others have earned for free! Free flowers for everyone except for those who work!"
A chicken in every pot; a flower in every vase!
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