Never Send A Man...

I love freecycle, especially around this time of the year when people are more generous and when there is a greater need for generosity. I like to fill a few wanteds here and there even if it means spending a few bucks.

There was a woman on freecycle asking for a mermaid costume for her daughter, the only thing her little girl had requested for Christmas was an Ariel dress up costume. I happen to have two of them, one my mom made that I wouldn't part with and another one from Costco that one of my kids used in a performance and had very little sentimental attachment. So, since I had two, I sent this woman a message telling her to come pick up the costume. The only catch; DO IT QUIETLY, as in don't let my kids know what you're up to. With a costume that has hung in the back of a closet for months with no interest shown by the children, the sure way to suddenly make it a priceless treasure is to say you're giving it away. So I didn't say that. I just packed it up quietly. I put the costume in an empty cereal box and propped it on my front porch where it looked completely innocent and this woman could just pick it up and go.

I made very sure the woman understood how this needed to work. Come to my house, take the cereal box, go. No contact needed.

So what happens this afternoon?

Her husband comes to the door, rings the bell and my kids get it. He has a piece of paper in his hand that he is reading and he asks for someone named Shelly (sorry, none of those at this address) well, he's supposed to pick up an Ariel Mermaid costume from Shelly at this address.

THANK YOU MR. IDIOT!

Then he looks at his paper again and says something about possibly a basement apartment. I'm thinking he must be completely dense to be announcing this in front of my children who are now quietly talking amongst themselves about why he wants an Ariel costume. Grrrrr. I am positive that his wife told him what he was supposed to do and he just glazed over on the instructions. My husband does the same thing. Apparently he is a typical male, won't ask for or follow instructions. Thank you for making my afternoon that much more difficult.

So I go out on the front porch, shut the door behind me, and point to the box still sitting in plain sight against the wall. He's like, "Oh, the box?" I'm like, "Yeah." He takes it and leaves. I go inside and tell my kids he had the wrong address for someone name Shelly (that part was true.)

Turtle Pancakes

Turtle shaped pancake.

One of an entire family of turtle shaped pancakes that I made for my kids. Use your imagination. This wasn't the best of them but it was the only one left by the time I found my camera to take pictures. LOL. I just get a kick out of it. Usually, I take request for balls, balloons, happy faces (chocolate chips are involved in those) or the occasional Mickey Mouse-type head. Turtles are a little trickier. Saturday mornings are pancake breakfasts at my house. With four kids my husband and I have lots of practice with the pancakes.

Deserving Children

I heard an ad on the radio a few minutes ago where a woman spoke excitedly about getting her children the new computer they deserve.
This made me cranky.
Just the perky voice made me pretty sure I was supposed to picture a couple of perfect kids who would use their new computer only for the good of mankind.
Yeah, right. I know too many people who teach school.
Instead I'm picturing lazy, internet addicted, selfish kids with a well-enforced sense of personal entitlement.
It's not easy to raise kids who understand they don't deserve to have "stuff" but that they need to earn it, just like their parents have to earn it. I don't mean sending them out to a 9-5. Not until they're teenagers and need some good hard work every day to keep them out of trouble. I mean age-appropriate jobs. A two year-old can put a liner in a garbage can and set silverware on the dinner table.
It makes me sick to see kids who are close to twelve and can't make their own bed or clean up a toy room, let alone cook a simple meal like spaghetti with sauce from a jar.
I know people who felt deprived as children and have made a point of not letting their own children ever feel that way. Kids who get everything value nothing and turn into adults with issues about values and problems with entitlement and learning to work.

Here's a clue people; there is very little in this life that any of us deserve!

I do believe every one of us deserves to be able to work for what we want and keep what we earn (the current tax code is crappy, but that's a post for another day) so I teach my kids to work, to budget, to save, and to respect the property and hard work of others. My kids do not deserve a new computer but I would be thrilled if they worked and earned one.

Need an idea of how to motivate your kids to earn something? I print off a spreadsheet with 25 cent increments for an item like a CD or a DVD my kids want but don't need. For each job they accomplish (sweep a floor, empty trash, set table, etc.) I let them cross off a square. For bigger jobs they can cross off more than one square. When they have filled the sheet to the purchase price of the item we go pick it up at the store. My kids rarely bug me about buying them frivolous items and they take pretty good care of the toys and things they have.

A Moment Of Silence

I took all four of my children to the grocery store with me. It's an adventure every time. By the end of the trip I am in desperate need of either a dozen doughnuts or a bottle of Jack Daniels. So far the doughnuts have won out every time.
After the muzac, the children, the noise of the carts and the other shoppers, the crying and whining of kids who don't get to pick out multiple treats or rent a Redbox, there's a single moment I can look forward to.
Other moms may recognize this moment, I know for a fact my own mother took advantage of it as often as she could.
It's the moment after all the groceries have been loaded into the car and all the children are safely strapped into their carseats and you shut the car door and it gets quiet. Silent, for just a moment. It's blessed relief and for just a minute all the tension eases off enough to take one deep breath of slightly smog filled air as you push the cart to the cart return cage. Alone with yourself for less than a full minute it's still enough to gather the shredded bits of your patience together for the next round about to take place.
I used to wonder why it was my mother took so long getting into and out of the car. Sitting in a hot car on a warm day it seemed like she would take forever to just walk around and get in. Then, when we parked in the carport she was always the last one to make it into the house from the car, sometimes sitting in a trance-like state for minutes before gathering herself to climb the stairs and join us in the house. When my children are all grown enough to walk into the house themselves I plan on using those minutes too.