I know that you want to give my children knowledge of the world around them and let them appreciate other cultures, but can you please STOP hyping holiday traditions that are celebrated in other countries?
I don't appreciate having to run to the store late at night (after working 8 hours at my main job and 4 hours at my seasonal job) to get treats to fill up my kids' shoes because the next morning is St. Nicklaus Day. I tried to explain to my children that we don't live in Germany or Austria and that we don't have a single drop of Western European blood running through our veins, but they were intent to celebrate this holiday that YOU TOLD THEM ABOUT.
I'm praying that they're not taught about St. Lucia Day because I will not torch my kid's hair on fire trying to create a hat-wreath of candles in order to celebrate ANOTHER tradition that we don't follow here in America.
Why don't you get them all excited about Ramadan? A holiday that consists of 40 days of fasting -- I can get behind that one. Why aren't you pushing that on our children? Why does it always have to be the ones that entail costumes and/or presents?
Thank you,
A very tired (and not so global) parent
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Boo to the Big Box
I hate those big box stores: Wal-Mart, K-Mart, ShopKo, Target, etc. Doesn't matter which one it is, I always have the same problems (OK, so I shouldn't lump Wal-Mart in this category since I'm proud to say that I have never in my life stepped foot in a Wal-Mart). Have you had these same experiences?
BAIT AND SWITCH SALES
I get a flier in the mail advertising my favorite video for only $5. I go to the store and they don't have any. It isn't that they're sold-out, they never had any. The salesman tells me that only one store in the entire state got ONE copy. Why advertise it? "Oh, to get you in the store," he says.
NO SELECTION
Sure the store has TVs, ramen noodles, jackets and fishing poles all under one roof (which I think is so not kosher -- you shouldn't be able to buy milk and clothing at the same place), but just try to find some variety per item. I had to buy a full slip for my new job, so I reluctantly went to one of these hated stores. The sales girl told me they don't have any full slips, and they only had one style of half slip and it only came in one size. WHAT???
CLUELESS SALESPEOPLE
Just try to get some information from the salespeople at these places. They haven't a clue. It's either not their department or they just don't know anything. It drives me crazy -- like the salesman who told me I didn't need to measure the space in my kitchen for a new dishwasher because all dishwashers are exactly the same size (yeah, tell that to the installation guy who had to warp my counter to shove it in there).
Conversely, last night I had to get my daughter some snow clothes for an upcoming ski day. I could've gone to one of these mega-marts and gotten some cheap stuff, but since I had no idea as to what I was buying, I needed some guidance. I went to a small outdoors shop up the street and the salesman knew what he was talking about, let my daughter try everything on (including socks and long underwear) to make sure they fit and even gave me a discount at the register just in case she ended up not liking skiing.
When was the last time a big box did that for you?
BAIT AND SWITCH SALES
I get a flier in the mail advertising my favorite video for only $5. I go to the store and they don't have any. It isn't that they're sold-out, they never had any. The salesman tells me that only one store in the entire state got ONE copy. Why advertise it? "Oh, to get you in the store," he says.
NO SELECTION
Sure the store has TVs, ramen noodles, jackets and fishing poles all under one roof (which I think is so not kosher -- you shouldn't be able to buy milk and clothing at the same place), but just try to find some variety per item. I had to buy a full slip for my new job, so I reluctantly went to one of these hated stores. The sales girl told me they don't have any full slips, and they only had one style of half slip and it only came in one size. WHAT???
CLUELESS SALESPEOPLE
Just try to get some information from the salespeople at these places. They haven't a clue. It's either not their department or they just don't know anything. It drives me crazy -- like the salesman who told me I didn't need to measure the space in my kitchen for a new dishwasher because all dishwashers are exactly the same size (yeah, tell that to the installation guy who had to warp my counter to shove it in there).
Conversely, last night I had to get my daughter some snow clothes for an upcoming ski day. I could've gone to one of these mega-marts and gotten some cheap stuff, but since I had no idea as to what I was buying, I needed some guidance. I went to a small outdoors shop up the street and the salesman knew what he was talking about, let my daughter try everything on (including socks and long underwear) to make sure they fit and even gave me a discount at the register just in case she ended up not liking skiing.
When was the last time a big box did that for you?
Monday, December 10, 2007
Rocking Around the Christmas Tree
One of my favorite things to do at Christmas time is turn off all the lights (except for the Christmas tree lights) and crank up festive holiday tunes and dance like a crazy person. Right now my children are young enough to dance with me, but soon they'll be teenagers and absolutely horrified by their mother dancing, so I have to take advantage of all the Christmases I have left.
TOP FIVE CHRISTMAS DANCE PARTY TUNES
- "Christmas in Hollis" by Run DMC -- I'm sorry, but this is hands down THE best Christmas song ever! Can't wait for the Mo-Tab to do their version.
- "I Saw My Baby Wearing Santa's Beard" by They Might Be Giants -- my daughter Alice-Grace sings this "I saw my baby wearing Santa's bib," which makes more sense.
- "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" by Bare Naked Ladies and Sarah McLachlan (I also like Bare Naked Ladies' version of the Hanukkah song).
- "I Pray on Christmas" by Harry Connick Jr. -- this song started my love affair with bluesy Christmas rock.
- "Silent Night" by Tiger Fire -- I'll admit it. I absolutely loathe the song "Silent Night" (I know, yet ANOTHER reason why I'm going to rot in hell), but I love this version because I can dance a mean "robot" to it.
Hair Apparent
I occasionally work right next to one of those kiosks in the middle of the mall that sells curling irons. You know, the one where the women from some unknown country accost you and try to force you to let them straighten and/or curl your hair? I don't know what human trafficking ring they're enslaved to, but these women sell their little hearts out (are there curling iron "pimps" out there that'll put the hurt on them if they don't make their quota?).
Anyway, I'm overhearing one of them doing her best sales pitch to the father of the girl she's curling at the moment and he asks her how much it costs. She replies, "One-seventy."
WHAT???
Now I hope she meant $1.70, because if I'm going to spend $170.00 on a curling iron, it better magically give me the ability to speak at least two romance languages every time I use it.
The worst is if you balk at the price, they kick you out of the chair with only half your hair curled/straightened. So now there's a multitude of women (and sometimes men) walking around the mall with very bad hair -- but not speaking a lick of Italian or French.
Anyway, I'm overhearing one of them doing her best sales pitch to the father of the girl she's curling at the moment and he asks her how much it costs. She replies, "One-seventy."
WHAT???
Now I hope she meant $1.70, because if I'm going to spend $170.00 on a curling iron, it better magically give me the ability to speak at least two romance languages every time I use it.
The worst is if you balk at the price, they kick you out of the chair with only half your hair curled/straightened. So now there's a multitude of women (and sometimes men) walking around the mall with very bad hair -- but not speaking a lick of Italian or French.
HO HO HO
Because of my seasonal part-time job, I get to spend a lot of time at the mall. I work right by a women's clothing store that fills their front window with strappy, metallic, stiletto shoes. Not being a shoe person myself, I don't quite understand the allure of these podiatrist's nightmares, but their "Strumpet Trumpet" must be calling pretty loudly because females from age 6 to 106 head a bee-line to this store.
I even observed one woman who parked her stroller full of kids outside the store so she could try on pair after pair of these heels. Luckily I consider myself a "watcher of all things smaller than me," so I kept a sharp eye on them -- at least until her shoe fetish feelings were satisfied and she returned to her children.
I know they're pretty and sexy and all of that, but not after seeing all these women limping through their shopping excursions because they just could not be seen in public in sensible flats.
I even observed one woman who parked her stroller full of kids outside the store so she could try on pair after pair of these heels. Luckily I consider myself a "watcher of all things smaller than me," so I kept a sharp eye on them -- at least until her shoe fetish feelings were satisfied and she returned to her children.
I know they're pretty and sexy and all of that, but not after seeing all these women limping through their shopping excursions because they just could not be seen in public in sensible flats.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Feliz Navidad
Jeffrey is my Christmas baby. I remember being in the hospital and hearing all the other new moms being surrounded by family and friends. Nigel was home taking care of Frances and everyone else was busy getting ready for their holiday festivities. It was just me and my new little baby and despite my love for hospitals (sometimes I just go and eat lunch there when I'm NOT sick), I was feeling lonely and a little blue.
Then I heard it -- carolers. A small family came by with a guitar and they stopped at my door and sang "Feliz Navidad" to me and my tiny boy. It was just what I needed. Though I must admit this is NOT one of my favorite Christmas songs, I now can't hear that song without tearing up.
If you ever go caroling at a hospital, please don't forget the maternity ward.
Then I heard it -- carolers. A small family came by with a guitar and they stopped at my door and sang "Feliz Navidad" to me and my tiny boy. It was just what I needed. Though I must admit this is NOT one of my favorite Christmas songs, I now can't hear that song without tearing up.
If you ever go caroling at a hospital, please don't forget the maternity ward.
Tradition! Tradition!
When my brother and his wife were first married, Julene asked Henry what his childhood Christmases were like. He talked about all the traditions, including getting breakfast in bed, peanuts in his stockings, putting up Christmas lists, etc. and didn't give the conversation a second thought.
When Christmas day came around, Julene surprised Henry with breakfast in bed. Henry complained, "Oatmeal! I hate oatmeal!" Julene was shocked because this was his family tradition. "No," Henry replied, "Our mom forced us to eat oatmeal so that we wouldn't make ourselves sick eating candy all day. We all despise oatmeal" (in fact, Rena and I used to throw the oatmeal out the window, Stillwell flushed it down the toilet and Spence spooned it into his sock drawer every year).
When Henry looked in his stocking, it was filled with peanuts in the shell. "Peanuts! What am I supposed to do with peanuts?" Again, Julene was confused. "But you told me you always got peanuts in your stockings." Henry answered, "Yeah, they were just used as filler so they wouldn't have to fill them with so many toys and candy" (I'm positive those same peanuts were recycled year after year).
Then Henry looked under the tree and it was filled with presents for him. Julene had given him EVERYTHING on his list. She didn't understand that our family put up lists every year, but we never expected to get the things on them -- maybe just one or two if we were lucky. Then he felt REALLY bad because he had only given Julene one or two things from her list, and she was probably expecting ALL of them!
Traditions are what make holidays great, but we should understand the meaning behind them and understand when to change them to fit our situations. I'm sure that Henry and Julene have many wonderful and new traditions they enjoy at Christmas, and I'm sure that they still laugh at their first one.
When Christmas day came around, Julene surprised Henry with breakfast in bed. Henry complained, "Oatmeal! I hate oatmeal!" Julene was shocked because this was his family tradition. "No," Henry replied, "Our mom forced us to eat oatmeal so that we wouldn't make ourselves sick eating candy all day. We all despise oatmeal" (in fact, Rena and I used to throw the oatmeal out the window, Stillwell flushed it down the toilet and Spence spooned it into his sock drawer every year).
When Henry looked in his stocking, it was filled with peanuts in the shell. "Peanuts! What am I supposed to do with peanuts?" Again, Julene was confused. "But you told me you always got peanuts in your stockings." Henry answered, "Yeah, they were just used as filler so they wouldn't have to fill them with so many toys and candy" (I'm positive those same peanuts were recycled year after year).
Then Henry looked under the tree and it was filled with presents for him. Julene had given him EVERYTHING on his list. She didn't understand that our family put up lists every year, but we never expected to get the things on them -- maybe just one or two if we were lucky. Then he felt REALLY bad because he had only given Julene one or two things from her list, and she was probably expecting ALL of them!
Traditions are what make holidays great, but we should understand the meaning behind them and understand when to change them to fit our situations. I'm sure that Henry and Julene have many wonderful and new traditions they enjoy at Christmas, and I'm sure that they still laugh at their first one.
Monday, December 3, 2007
Santa's Dead
As I'm in the twilight between awake and sleep last night, I hear this conversation transpire in the living room between my two younger children and my husband:
Alice-Grace: Mom told us Santa was dead.
Nigel: What?
Jeffrey: Yeah. Mom told us Santa was dead.
Nigel: She did not.
Alice-Grace: She did. For reals.
Jeffrey: Santa is dead.
My last thought as I drift off to sleep is, "Oh Lois, you're going to burn in hell for this one."
OK, since some people were worried in my last post, let me state that Santa does come to our house, but just to fill the stockings. But for some reason, my kids totally ignore the stockings and I have to practically force them to look there. I guess Santa only counts if he leaves big huge presents. It isn't like the stockings are filled with rocks or peanuts in the shell (that's for another blog) or something, Santa brings fun stuff like Kindereggs and Pez.
So this year I've decided to steal one of Rena's traditions and have my kids play Santa Claus (since he's passed away and all). She has each one of her kids put on a Santa hat in the middle of the night and put a secret treat in the stockings. My kids seem to be excited about the idea, so we'll see how it goes.
And just for the record, I told them that St. Nicholas who Santa Claus is based on is dead.
Alice-Grace: Mom told us Santa was dead.
Nigel: What?
Jeffrey: Yeah. Mom told us Santa was dead.
Nigel: She did not.
Alice-Grace: She did. For reals.
Jeffrey: Santa is dead.
My last thought as I drift off to sleep is, "Oh Lois, you're going to burn in hell for this one."
OK, since some people were worried in my last post, let me state that Santa does come to our house, but just to fill the stockings. But for some reason, my kids totally ignore the stockings and I have to practically force them to look there. I guess Santa only counts if he leaves big huge presents. It isn't like the stockings are filled with rocks or peanuts in the shell (that's for another blog) or something, Santa brings fun stuff like Kindereggs and Pez.
So this year I've decided to steal one of Rena's traditions and have my kids play Santa Claus (since he's passed away and all). She has each one of her kids put on a Santa hat in the middle of the night and put a secret treat in the stockings. My kids seem to be excited about the idea, so we'll see how it goes.
And just for the record, I told them that St. Nicholas who Santa Claus is based on is dead.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Presents of Mind
I never know how to do presents with my kids. When they were really little, Nigel and I would just buy whatever and stick it under the tree. Frances would open one or two gifts and be done. She had no interest in anything else (Jeffrey and Alice-Grace just ate the wrapping paper). So we would put some presents aside to save for later or for their birthdays.
My friend told me that her kids get three presents each -- an article of clothing, a toy, and a book. This sounded like a good idea for us. After all, if three presents was good enough for baby Jesus, it's good enough for my kids. Well, I didn't count on all the presents from the grandparents, teachers, etc. Again, the kids were overwhelmed with so many presents and we were still putting some aside for birthdays.
Now we pick names out of a hat and each person buys ONE present for another member of the family. That seems to be working so far.
But then, last year my kids noticed that Santa never brought them presents. Oops!
My friend told me that her kids get three presents each -- an article of clothing, a toy, and a book. This sounded like a good idea for us. After all, if three presents was good enough for baby Jesus, it's good enough for my kids. Well, I didn't count on all the presents from the grandparents, teachers, etc. Again, the kids were overwhelmed with so many presents and we were still putting some aside for birthdays.
Now we pick names out of a hat and each person buys ONE present for another member of the family. That seems to be working so far.
But then, last year my kids noticed that Santa never brought them presents. Oops!
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Season's Greetings
I have a love/hate relationship with holiday newsletters. I love writing them, but I loathe copying them off, addressing the envelopes, and mailing them (to be perfectly honest, I still have some from last year that I haven't mailed yet -- sorry!).
Also, it seems that I'm sending these newsletters full of "fascinating" tidbits about my family's life to people who are either very much aware of what we've been up to all year or people who really could care less. So what's the point?
I have people that I send newsletters to only because they send me newsletters. Are they only sending me newsletters because I send them newsletters? It's a vicious cycle.
Also, what's the shelf-life on newsletters? Am I supposed to keep these things forever? What about the holiday photos? Keep the ones from family and throw away the others?
Rena got fed up with the stress of getting the "perfect" family photo, so last year she sent one that actually looks like her family (kids with eyes closed, looking in the wrong direction, and/or picking noses). Now that's a photo I'm going to keep!
I'm not a total Grinch. Some newsletters are great. I love Ben's "Holiday Holler" just because of the title -- I even disregard my newsletter/resume rule for it (if it's more than one page long, I don't read it). M-A's newsletters are always hilarious (and my last few have been copies of her style -- I hope she considers it flattery). I always look forward to my mother's newsletter to see how little she writes about me (She'll write three or four paragraphs on Lorna and I'll get something like, "Lois is still alive").
The best Christmas newsletter of all time was one that I received from my friend's mother. She fancies herself a poet and one year she wrote about finding a dead body in the dumpster behind her home -- all in iambic pentameter.
I was all for boycotting a newsletter this year and I almost had Nigel talked into it, but then Geo's husband brought over a huge box of art paper, including some in the loveliest shade of green which Nigel is now enamored with. He says that HE will do the Christmas newsletter. Now, if I can just find a dead body...
Also, it seems that I'm sending these newsletters full of "fascinating" tidbits about my family's life to people who are either very much aware of what we've been up to all year or people who really could care less. So what's the point?
I have people that I send newsletters to only because they send me newsletters. Are they only sending me newsletters because I send them newsletters? It's a vicious cycle.
Also, what's the shelf-life on newsletters? Am I supposed to keep these things forever? What about the holiday photos? Keep the ones from family and throw away the others?
Rena got fed up with the stress of getting the "perfect" family photo, so last year she sent one that actually looks like her family (kids with eyes closed, looking in the wrong direction, and/or picking noses). Now that's a photo I'm going to keep!
I'm not a total Grinch. Some newsletters are great. I love Ben's "Holiday Holler" just because of the title -- I even disregard my newsletter/resume rule for it (if it's more than one page long, I don't read it). M-A's newsletters are always hilarious (and my last few have been copies of her style -- I hope she considers it flattery). I always look forward to my mother's newsletter to see how little she writes about me (She'll write three or four paragraphs on Lorna and I'll get something like, "Lois is still alive").
The best Christmas newsletter of all time was one that I received from my friend's mother. She fancies herself a poet and one year she wrote about finding a dead body in the dumpster behind her home -- all in iambic pentameter.
I was all for boycotting a newsletter this year and I almost had Nigel talked into it, but then Geo's husband brought over a huge box of art paper, including some in the loveliest shade of green which Nigel is now enamored with. He says that HE will do the Christmas newsletter. Now, if I can just find a dead body...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)