Top ten best beach experiences 2008

In no particular order:

1. Playing "doodle guess" (like Pictionary but simpler and rowdier) with all 4 kids and my mom, who was a very bad sport. Mitch's strategy: scribble on the paper and say "YES!" to the first guess.

2. The tidal pool on the last day (aka the "baby ocean"). Paige was in splish splash heaven.

3. Watching Owen and Mitch driving kiddie go-karts. Owen = old man driver (complete with side swipes of parked cars) Mitch = bad ass teenager (complete with turns on two-wheels). The attendant feared for his life.

4. The filet mignon. Who cares if they were bought on the "sell by" date and lived a long life in my parents' deep freezer. Against all odds, they were freakin' delicious.

5. Owen asking my dad for his change at Dairy Queen after being told he could pick something under $4. He did pick a $2 item after all. The kid just wanted what was coming to him!

6. Owen loosing his first tooth. He was mighty brave about it, so the tooth fairy was generous.

7. My 5-year-old niece's submission to a round of Apples to Apples (such a fun game). The adjective was "haunting." Her card said "kittens."

8. Mitch's refusing to call my brother-in-law anything but "Dave." Not Uncle David, not even just plain David. Just "Dave."

9. The Orange Blossom Bakery vs. Gingerbread House Bakery taste test. Apple fritters went to Orange Blossom. Butterscotch cookies went to Gingerbread House.

10. My mom wearing the kids' hooded fish towel. While having a serious conversation during which no one was able to take her seriously. (She was trying to keep sand out of her ears on a windy day.) I so wish I had a picture.

How well do you know Owen?

Here's a sampling of the quiz about himself that Owen gave me today on the way to school (answers below):

1. What is my favorite dinner?

2. What is my favorite movie?

3. What is my favorite TV show?

4. Where do I like to go after school?

5. Do I know the answer to 12 plus 13?

6. Do I know the answer to 23 plus 39?

7. Once, at Kroger, I saw a hockey game for sale. How much was it?

I got 6 out of 7. Guess which one I missed.


(answers: 1. Spaghetti; 2. The Incredibles; 3. Deal or no Deal; 4. The playground; 5. Yes; 6. No; 7. $15.99)

Parenting math

Inspired by Owen's incessant math-related questions ("Mommy, what's 21,432,394 plus 78? What's 4,934,987 plus 436,346? What's 234 plus 43?) I've decided to work out my own equation based on recent household events:

Number of time Paige pooped yesterday (4)

PLUS The number of years I have left to enjoy comments like the following from Mitch: "Thank you so much for washing my socks, Mommy. You are sooo pretty" (2)

MINUS The number of months my new laptop cord lasted before it got wrecked by children tripping over it (2)

PLUS The number of nights a week I feel like cooking dinner (0)

PLUS The time Owen woke me up this morning (7)

MINUS The amount of money I spend at Target every month (200)

PLUS The number of romantic dates John and I have been on in the past 3 months (0)

PLUS The number of months I have left before Paige can talk, thereby adding to the never ending chatter and driving me utterly around the bend (6)

PLUS The amount of the PowerBall jackpot that John is convinced we will win thereby relieving all of our financial hardships (46 million)

MINUS The number of times this weekend that Bailey has thought she knew better than her loving parents (15)

EQUALS On a scale of one to ten, the number representative of how badly I need a vacation (45,999,802)

Family headlines: Weekend edition

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Tonight's top story: John (aka Mean Daddy) Suffers with Coxsackie

Nearly 2 months after Mean Mommy's bout with the same illness, John has contracted the debilitating virus that once caused him to ask his wife, "So how long do you plan on being sick?"

After 3 days of listening to his groans and whimpering, Mean Mommy has had to place duct tape over her mouth to keep herself from asking John the same question, only in a bitchier tone.

Paige Breaks Owen's Glasses

On Friday afternoon, Paige marched forward in her never ending quest to pull Owen's glasses off of his face. However, in an attempt to thwart the attack, Owen jerked his head sideways. Because Paige--stalwart, persistent Paige--refused to break her grip, the bridge of the glasses snapped in two.

After trying to super glue the bridge back in place, the Mean Family was told by their eye doctor that "the glasses are under warranty" (yay!) but that they should "NOT attempt to glue the glasses" because such attempts will "void the warranty" (boo!)

Right, because if you come into the shop with a pair of broken glasses that have been glued, how will the manufacturer know that it wasn't your trying to glue the bridge of an intact pair of glasses that caused them to break...maybe cause there are hoodlums out there who just slap glue on their glasses for no good reason, breaking them willy nilly and then trying to cheat eye wear manufacturers into replacing them? That's probably it.

Monday will be spent 1. Trying to persuade Owen that he can go to school without his glasses and 2. Trying to scrape all traces of super glue off of the glasses.

In other news:

Owen Wins Zingo Three Times in a Row; Three year old brother left in quivering heap of disappointment.

Mean Mommy Finds 32 NEW Excuses not to do Taxes

Paige Breaks Record of "Poops in one Day" (former record set at 3 months old)

Mitch Breaks Record for Number of Times One Child Can Watch The Incredibles.

The No Nanny Diaries

As I mentioned a post or two ago, our beloved babysitter quit us in favor of her education or something, leaving the boys, Mitch in particular, bereft, and leaving John and me panicked since she quit only a week before the semester started. (In her defense, she was trying hard to rearrange her schedule and didn't know for sure that it wouldn't work out until late in the summer.)

So we pulled out all our old nanny-seeking tricks: an ad on the job board at a local university, an email to former students of mine, a request for friends to ask friends. We got several replies, including one from a student I taught last spring, a smart girl whom I really liked.

She started last Wednesday. Yay! And quit last Thursday. Boo.

She has some health problems, which I knew about, and in her email she explained that she'd thought long and hard and had come to the conclusion that her schedule was too grueling to fit in the babysitting, and sorry, she hoped she was giving us enough time to find someone else. Well. The semester started yesterday so...not really.

That makes 2 babysitters quitting in a week's time. Also, over the summer, when I was teaching/directing a couple of writing workshops, the sitter we hired to keep the kids for those 2 weeks quit after her first day, too. She called from her car claiming she was covered in hives from an allergy to our cats.

So what is it? Does our house stink? Are the boys horrible? Are these "I have to quit because" reasons just...excuses?

In my contemplation of the matter, I came up with a list of reasons a babysitter might not want to work for us. Turns out there are a few:

Ant Jubilee 2007. The exterminator is coming on Tuesday, but the ant parties have been really really rockin' lately. Ant infestation = gross people.

The big, boisterous man sitting at the dining room table talking loudly in a managerial tone. AKA Being alone in the house with the husband; AKA Babysitting with a parent present = nerve wracking.

Owen's tendency to relate every detail of his school day in a high pitched voice. Including a comprehensive list of who got X's on their behavior cards and why, what everyone had for lunch, what kind of cars the teachers drive, and a recitation of the carpool pages over the PA.

Mitch's insistence upon physical play. Including jumping into 120 pound sitters' laps and climbing up their legs, begging to be tickled and/or chased.

Paige's mommy-centric-ness. When mommy is not present, she crumbles in a heap on the floor, refusing toys, sleep, and food. Occasionally eebee or Baby Einstein will help, but only for 10 minutes.

The ginormous crack in the ceiling. The former home owner who installed the ceiling fan in the family room did a shoddy job, and now there is a crack zig zagging from the base of the fan to the top of the wall which makes our house = The House of Usher. So the new babysitter grand tour includes a warning not to turn on the fan or sit under it. Or near it. Or sneeze too loudly.

The lawn. It's been hot. Really really really hot. And our lawnmower blade is shot. And it's been too hot to live. And also very hot. So the lawn is a teensy bit overgrown. Add that to the pile of outdoor toys in our carport = we are rednecks.

The cat stink. Our cats can sense when someone new is visiting and feel it is their solemn duty to welcome new people with a steaming pile of cat crap in the litter box so the new people can smell just whose territory it is.

The poop duties. Apart from the cat stink, we have two children whose bottoms must be wiped, one of whom is also big enough to call from the bathroom, "Come WIPE meeeeeee" and then ask the wiper to look at his poo before he flushes it. Newbies are often unprepared for the wide range of poop duties in our household.

Our neighborhood. I like our neighborhood. It's been called a "marginal" neighborhood because of its proximity to a few "undesirable" areas of town, but I have no problem living here. (We did choose this area after all, and its "marginality" comes with living downtown.) Many of our neighbors are super friendly, run of the mill suburbanites. But it happens that one of our neighbors might be a drug dealing thug (or at least kind of look like one), even though he has always been very polite and respectful to us and sweet to our children. See, the girls I hire to babysit who are students at the expensive private college where I teach probably don't come from neighborhoods where the thuggishness of their neighbors is in dispute. And some of them are from very small Southern towns and have family members with very small Southern points of view about difference.

I realize our family may be a wee bit quirky. Our house is a wee bit quirky. Our kids are a wee bit quirky. So maybe it does take just the right person to work for us, though when we've found the right people, they've been incredibly loyal and dependable. Since 2001 we've had 3 long-term sitters, all of whom left because of graduation/senior year internships, and all 3 have been wonderful and have stayed in touch with us because they care so much for our children. So, yes, there are people out there who love us despite our faults.

I suppose we just have to keep looking. Meanwhile, local readers, if you know anyone, please pass along this ad:

Downtown family ISO part-time nanny. Looking for someone with lots of energy and a love of children. Duties include playing with our 3 kids, fixing snacks, and helping kids clean up after themselves. Must have reliable transportation, references, and no cat allergy. Those with skeevishness about ants, fear of ominously cracked ceilings, a low tolerance for babbling, or prejudice toward red necks and thugs need not apply.