Luck O the Irish

You know how it is. You're just standing in line at the pet store trying to buy cat litter when an employee begins to amuse the kiddies by eating one of those pink dog Oreos from the doggie bar.

As I'm watching the show, I get a bit concerned that this employee is somehow of my gene pool and might be a long lost relative as his behavior clearly indicates. While I try to figure out what side of the family he looks like, he shares with us that the fuchsia cookies are made out of the same high quality ingredients that one finds in those glow in the dark Halloween Oreos. Genuine trans fats. But, the doggie version costs a tad bit more. So, I stand there and calculate that an Oreo sized package of the things would cost roughly the same as one month's mortgage at a sub prime rate. I continue to stand there and notice a kid who decides he wants to play along. And, remarkably, it isn't my kid. When his mom isn't watching, the kid steals a dog nugget from the doggie bar and pops it into his mouth. Turns out it isn't the equivalent of people nuggets. Just priceless.

Of course, I get giddy by it all and begin to admire the various items that the well dressed dog must have when he goes bar hopping. I have the only logical thought possible - that hat sure would look good on my kid. With a green outfit. And genuine leprechaun boots expertly crafted from his father's dress socks. I revel in the the joy my kid will experience looking back on his first celebration of his Irish heritage and eagerly fork over the $40 dollars or so for the high quality felt cap. And, as is clearly evidenced by the unadulterated joy in his face, it was money well spent.

A couple of years go by but clearly due to high quality craftsmanship, the felt hat stands the test of time. This year, I pull it out of the drawer and immediately know that Mia would just be deprived if her brother got to wear the hat for St. Pat's and she didn't. Sibling rivalry being what it is and all. I snap into action, crafting some genuine leprechaun boots out of my brown hiking socks. Mia takes issue with the booties, clearly due to her appreciation for authenticity. She communicates the same to me by pulling the booties off her legs, examining them and then tossing them down the stairs. Seeing how she really respects all things leprechaun just warms the cockles of my heart so I enthusiastically explain the whole St. Pat thing to her and the hat goes on. Mia exhibits her ability to run while simultaneously shaking her head, a quite impressive feat and then raises her hands in praise to show me just how joyful she feels.

I'm sure the kids can't wait for next year.

Punch & Mints

So, our oldest apparently got married two weeks ago without any prior notice or public ceremony. This, of course, is a big downer for me for many reasons but, most importantly, because I have been practicing the mother-of-the-groom mantra since he was born; Show up, shut up and wear beige. Show up, shut up and wear beige. No one looks good in beige which is, of course, the point but I ask least wanted an excuse to get my hair and makeup done and perhaps some new shoes. Not shiny glittery ones as it would look weird with Mia chasing me down the aisle while trying to take them off my feet but new shoes nonetheless.

So, the lovely bride and my darling son apparently began to bond over punch and cookies during their morning preschool break and solidified their relationship on the monkey bars and swings. I knew nothing about it. I had taken him to Monkey Joes, a cavernous play palace with multiple inflatable jumping things for a party and the lovely bride was there. He studiously avoided her. I suspect that the reverb of the children's screams bouncing around the place may have given him the same shock and awe feeling that I had. Don't know who Joe is but we should unleash him on our worst enemies. During the Monkey Joe outing I sat with the rest of the defeated parents in the center of the chaos at the cheery orange picnic tables trying to figure out why they didn't have a bar as it would certainly be profitable and why Mia kept trying to pick up the patterns in the carpeting. Gosh it was fun. In a Clockwork Orange sort of way.

So, several days go by and his father goes to get him at school. The kid wants to stay a while and play in the playground with his friend from school. Says his little sister never gets to play and they should stay for a while. It's for Mia's benefit, of course. The little friend's nanny agrees which, I suspect is problem number one. After taking him to the mega birthday party for last year's love interest, I've been quite diligent in explaining to him that he will need to support his wife in a manner to which she has been accustomed. Having full-time house staff is certainly shooting quite high. But hey, its young love in the spring.

So, he and his love are circling the playground hand in hand and then go romping around picking flowers for his sister, I'd guess so that he can show his sensitive side. They were the church's daffodils from their garden but as we all know, churches are all for marriage.

And then the nanny, who has been standing by, breaks the news to the husband who was attempting to follow Mia around. She had been told by her charge that the lovebirds had gotten married the week before. Just like that.

Imagine the surprise. So, the husband waited until the shock had passed and got our oldest securely fastened into his booster seat and started the car. As we all know, it is best to question children while they are securely strapped into a car seat and the car is moving to not allow for escape. I use the method often, even though he does get a bit curious as to why I am circling the Walmart parking lot over and over at 3 miles an hour, muttering "we're going to the truth, we're going to the truth". He capitulates and then asks why, if we are going to Duluth, I appear to be driving in endless circles in the parking lot. He isn't generally satisfied by my telling him that there are some things that are just too complex to understand but he does seem to have the ability to know when to placate his mother so that he can go home to play.

So, he considered the question of his marriage quite carefully and then quite simply confirmed by stating, "She is not supposed to tell you that. It's a secret."

Two days later, outright denial. But then, I have to go to school for his parent teacher conference and run into my mother-in-law once removed who greets me quite warmly which was a good thing as I wasn't sure what to expect as it does not appear that my son followed the protocol and asked for his love's hand in marriage. Comes up behind him and next to me and states "so that's the husband". The husband, meanwhile, is hightailing it to the car. Then the mother-in-law once removed tells me that she hopes he can keep up as her daughter is high maintenance. Guess so, boys always marry a gal like dear old mom.

I guess some punch and mints are in order.

Baby has new shoes

So I had Mia for the weekend. The boys went to New Jersey while the girls stayed behind for a girls weekend in. First, we got Mia's hair cut. This was not a fabulous experience for her and resulted in a price that worked out as a dollar per hair. We then picked out a neat headband that Mia agreed to wear for approximately 12 seconds.

Then, we had a fashion show with her in the starring roll. Let her try on her dresses to show her how pretty she was in her pretty dresses. And just how cute she is. Even went all out with the accessories although she quickly decided to throw her purse on the ground. Found these little sparkly shoes her brother and I got her when she just got home. Two sizes two big. It was the total package look we were going for. Twirled her in front of the mirror where she was pretty impressed by the gleam of the shoes.

Took her to change her clothes and took the shoes off. That was met with a snarl roughly equivalent to the cry of a Tasmanian Devil followed by the shrieking of lemurs when their terrain is invaded by some poisonous snake. All in all, pretty impressive.

Put the shoes back on and the snarling stopped. Took them off again and it started. Still wasn't convinced that she could have that strong of an opinion about anything much less sparkly shoes at 14 months. However, after observing her as she tried to put said shoes back on over her footie pajamas figured that was it. So, she wore them to bed.

Next day, it was all about the shoes again. Futilely explained that they were too big, she would fall on her head, she would fall on her butt, she would fall on the cat. Didn't care. It was the price she was willing to pay for beauty. She then proceeded to work on her catwalk up and down the hall. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle, turn. Shuffle, fall, shuffle, fall, shuffle turn. Looked like a little drunk in clown shoes. Every so often stopped to look at me to make sure I understood just how pitiful it was that she had to wear shoes that were too big. Did it until she extracted a promise to find some new ones that were her size. And that is where the search began.

Went to Target, the purveyor of the original white sparkly shoes. Apparently a seasonal item as they didn't have them. Tried the GAP. Nope. Agreed to go to the mall. Walked through the mall at .25 miles an hour - shuffle, shuffle, shuffle, stop to pick up dirt from the floor, shuffle, shuffle, shuffle, stop to look at the floor and so on and so on and so on.

The difficulty of finding sparkly shoes in February apparently can not be underestimated and such a promise was foolhardy at best and more likely completely idiotic. Who knew there was a sparkly shoe season other than most sentient humans other than me? Based on the earnest explanation of this that I got from all the sales clerks, it is roughly for that period of time that ends 14 days prior to my going to get them, whenever that may be.

So, after doing the mall shuffle for a period that felt roughly like two months, an ephinay hit me. Disney. They have princesses and princesses need sparkly shoes, don't they? So, off we go. Apparently, princesses only need sparkly shoes for that period of time that ends roughly 14 days prior to my going to get them. After sifting through the entire store, we found one sparkly shoe. In her size. Only one. We looked in all the Poohs, the Cars and the many, many princesses and the sales bins. No luck. We expanded our search to include any and all shelves in the store. No luck. They decided that they could just give us the one. However, although they held the opinion that one sparkly shoe is better than none, I just couldn't bear to shuffle, limp, shuffle, limp, shuffle limp the kid through the mall with everyone saying, "isn't that cute" while asking each other what planet the kid's mother came from.

I offered Mia a pair of Snow White slippers that are three sizes too big to settle my shoe debt. She accepted and we shuffled our way out of the place.