What the Hell is the Glue Stick Doing on the table?

So we are sitting around eating our daily dinner gruel and I ask, rhetorically, just what in the heck was going on in someones head when they did this or that earlier in the day. Of course, most of my dinner questions are rhetorical what with the son interrupting, the daughter working on her gravity and velocity testing as she clears the food and drink off her highchair top with a rapid back and forth motion and the husband trying to duck the food coming at him while he fondly reminisces about those days gone by before he turned 40 last week and still had the ability to duck fast enough to avoid the food's impact.

So, I'm testing the conversational listening by verbalizing my musings on the topic of two trains leaving the station at the same time, one going 35 mph and the other going 55 mph, same track, both with naked people driving them and what would happen at the point of impact considering they were being driven by naked people, and I didn't get any feedback. Nada. Nothing. Not a word.

So then I add "And what the heck were they thinking being naked given it could be a coal powered train and wouldn't that be a bit risky if embers were floating around" and "ding, ding, ding", I get some attention from the son. Went something like, "MOMMY, you just said a bad word." As I did not believe I did but always leave room for the possibility that my past as a drunken sailor may seep out, I asked the son which one. HECK, he says. You can't say HECK. So, I let him know that, nope, heck is okay. He doesn't concur. I poll the husband and we both agree, heck is good. The sons presses on so I know it is now the age appropriate time to explain cursing.

I let him know there are words we don't say so we have come up with words that sound sort of close. Which words he asks, other than that AIG one that seems to give mommy those strange fits? How do I know which words not to use if I don't know them, he presses on. Considering he has a valid point, I let him know that "hell" is one word not to be used as it is a curse and not considered a satisfactory behavior in most classrooms in most of the states in this great union of ours. Which one, he asks again, just to hear me say it? Hell, I say which starts Mia on a practice session of a new word which fortunatey could be sold as her version of "hello, hello, hello."

He nods his understanding and, just to make sure we are giving him explicit and on-going permission to say "heck" asks us, "so...you...are...telling...me...it...is...okay...to ...say.. heck?" very slowly and with very careful annunication of each word. Apparently the child has discovered that the universal technique to communicate with others who do not understand English whatsoever, speaking much more loudly and much more slowly, is the best manner of communicating important points to the parents in his life. We all agree that heck is okay and move on to other scintillating topics like who I had talked to that day that not only didn't want me to work for them but chose to share just how bad the job market is, citing so and so who has been out of work for one year, and the whole group of those guys who have been out of work since memorial day and so on.

A couple of minutes pass by, we are discussing dessert or lack there of and the son apparently decides to make sure he has the whole cursing thing down pat and and states, "Excuse me, so, I probably shouldn't ask "What the HELL is the glue stick doing on the table?" I agree that most probably, asking that question would not be a good idea given the forgoing conversational rules. His father lets me know that I'm geting the trip to school on this one.

AIG and Me

So, they lay me off on the 19th of August. And now this. Perhaps they needed my wisdom after all. Just thinking out loud here......

Parenting Tip on Explaining Home Equity Lines

So, As I'm tucking him in, I'm telling the five year old that I need to get up early tomorrow because I am working on a home equity line. He asks what that is. I, in the clear manner that I feel is necessary to employ when it is goody-night time, deliver the Reader's Digest version of home ownership, equity, interest rates and the economy, PMI and down payments which somehow doesn't make a whole lot of sense to him despite my comprehensive and clear explanation. So, I add that I'm just selling part of the house to the bank. Sort of like that.

He considers the lesson and lets me know that as he really doesn't envision needing his own home for several years he has chosen to reject all the wonderful learning I just provided and has only one question - Precisely, what am I selling to the bank? As it is clearly my parental duty to nurture him and mold him into a financially and fiscally responsible individual who is capable of supporting me in the style to which I had become accustomed to as soon as is reasonably possible or two weeks, whichever comes first, I decide the Finance for Five Year Olds is a valuable lesson so I go for it again. After round two and with some exasperation, he asks exactly what I am doing and for clarity and brevity, I reinforce that I am selling part of the house to a bank.

What part, he asks? It isn't my room is it? And, I must confess, I confirmed with regret that yes, I was selling his room. He seemed to think that wasn't such a great idea but was much more concerned that I would sell the playroom or the basement. I agreed not to sell either and again gave him the "Finance 101 for 5 Year-Olds" lecture on home ownership, equity, loans, interest rates and why Alan Greenspan is not my friend at the present time.

Again, he carefully considered what I had told him and processed it in such a thoughtful manner. And it was clear by his response that my wonderful presentation of "Finance for Five-Year Olds" needs just a little bit of work before it can be released to the masses.

He specifically stated that he got it. He really, really got it. No more explanation was necessary. Please. He had the answer. Mia's room would have to go and, in fact, was the perfect choice. She was little, she would forget and that would save the playroom. Yep, that would do it, he said. I saw, for a minute, the glitter of a large company's CFO in his eyes. Just outright scary even if I had it coming to me.

He did want to know exactly how I intended to send it which I thought was a very good question. He also wanted me to be careful to make sure we got Mia out of it first.

I added more to the therapy fund and then assured him that because it was entirely too hard to take Mia's room off and mail it to the bank, we would not only keep it but would keep all the other rooms in the house all together.

Oddly, he seems to tell his kindergarten teacher all the cool things from home and tomorrow is curriculum night. Somehow, I'm thinking I'm going to be explaining this one.

Unemployment Math

So, the husband and kids and I go out to eat as a treat last week. Now, I had just entered the State of Unemployment four days earlier. You know that state, the one whose welcome sign is “Welcome to the State of Unemployment, the Home of Ye Who Have Abandoned All Hope?" I believe it is the 53rd state that most of us generally try to not visit. Do have to admit that the motto is a bit catchier than Georgia’s “Welcome to the Peach State” especially since that motto is a bit disingenuous as even Georgian’s won’t eat the peaches grown here. The motto really should be “Welcome to the Peach State Where all of the Peaches Taste Like Unflavored Rocks of an Undetermined Nature.” Probably just couldn’t get it all on the sign. Really, when it comes to peaches, us Georgians look for that little sticker on the peach that says South Carolina on it. Now, they have a good motto, “While I breathe, I hope.” which is just the inverse of it's sister city, Beijing, China where the motto is "I Hope I Breathe." However, none of the mottos are as good as Alabama’s “At Least We Aren’t Mississippi.”

So after cheering up considerably when I compared unemployment to the job of putting those little stickers on every single piece of fruit sold in the US, it was off to the Waffle House. I had learned through prior reconnaissance that one could buy the big time breakfast meal at Waffle House for an awesome price. Then, one could divvy it up among family members according to a formula based upon whoever was being nicest to me at the time.


So, we go in. Aidan is excited. He wants to sit at the counter as that is what he and I would do to celebrate our success after we would go to Lowes or Home Depot for the kid’s build-a-something clinic and manage to not nail any two fingers together. Or hit ourselves in the head with the hammers, which we always celebrated as I had demonstrated how that wasn’t a good idea by role-modeling it once early in our build-a-something career. So, he is pointing to the counter. I point out that that will just not work as there are only two chairs, there are five of us and the laws of physics just do not bend to our will. So, he goes to the other counter where there are four chairs and tells me that we could put Mia’s highchair in one of those places. Again, I point out that won’t work as there are five of us and there are only four places. He tells me that he can make it work but I tell him the decision is made, the five of us will sit in a booth.

We get a high chair for Mia and sit down in our appointed booth. The waitress asks us what we would like to drink and do we know what the other person would like? I’m wondering if she is seeing dead people or is merely hopped up as I do not see anyone sitting next to me and am assuming that she is. I decide to go out on a limb and ask – what other person? She gives me the look like I am either seeing dead people or am really hopped up which, considering we are in a Waffle House, is a likely possibility and then carefully, loudly and very slowly so that I could understand tells me that she had heard me say, numerous times, that we had five people in our dinner party and since we only had two parents and two kids, that would mean we were waiting for another. After some deliberation, I agreed that her assessment did appear to represent the facts in question but that the other person apparently just couldn’t make it.

The five year old starts loudly telling me that there isn’t another person, and asking who was I talking about, but I quickly suggested that he get all the incoming sausage which clearly wasn’t fair but as he was my favorite son, at least as of that morning because he generally doesn't ask his mother lots and lots of questions, he shut down his line of inquiry.

Guess I was counting the cat in the number of mouths I have to feed.

Today's topic, Fun with Unemployment

Well, "none" is pretty much the most accurate description so far.

However, there is the son's fear that he will have to eat sandwiches, an idea that apparently is totally distasteful to him and my new ability to either see dead people or my lost ability of being able to count to 10. And, of course, there is my on-going idea of driving a school bus so I can influence young lives in a positive and engaging manner. I'm making my plans now.

But since I have to hose the children off for their day tomorrow, the details will have to wait.

Don't want this one as a defense witness

Wife to husband: You don't let Mia jump on the bed, do you?
Husband: Nooooo. Of course not.

Wife to husband: Has she fallen off yet?
Husband: No, I watch her to make sure she doesn't.

Witness to Husband : Man, I sure wouldn't want you as a defense witness...

Lion Poop

African Proverb - Every morning in Africa, a gazelle wakes up and knows it must run faster than the fastest lion or it will be killed. Every morning in Africa, a lion wakes up and knows it must outrun the slowest gazelle or it will starve.

Yesterday, I was the slowest gazelle. Which, I believe, makes me lion poop today. Sure feels that way.