Momliment: noun. A compliment specifically for moms.
You know the ones I'm talking about. "You're baby is so cute!" or, "Look how good s/he is being!" Recently I started to got Momliments on Philosopher Child's reading ability.
But tonight, my friends, was the most hilarious momliment ever. A man came to the door and I foolishly answered it, thinking it was my neighbor. Well, the man on the other side told me he was doing a power usage survey. And then it happened.
He asked me if my parents were home.
Dumbfounded, I replied, "I am the parent."
He was just as confused. "Oh. I...you don't look...OK..."
I'm going to be laughing about this for a long, long time.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Monday, February 1, 2010
Shopping Shark
Shopping Shark: noun. A person who is a salesperson's worst nightmare because they will argue to get what the want, or a person who has the uncanny ability to make salespeople just go away.
I've learned two things about my family members in the past few years. First, if you want a deal, you shop with Younger Sister. She knows how to double up coupons, talk the salespeople into selling the display model, and knows exactly where to go and when to get the best sales. But if you don't want to buy anything and frankly want those door-to-door salesmen to just go away, you hang around Husband.
The other day, someone that works for a window company came to our door. Husband answered and the woman started on her spiel about who she works for and what she does. At the end, Husband simply said, "No, thank you. Not interested." But instead of the woman just thanking him and walking away, she said, "Why?" Big mistake.
"Just not in the budget," Husband said. "Not interested."
"You're not interested in saving money?" she asked.
At this point, Husband was a bit annoyed. Now, understand, we love, love, love small businesses. What we don't love is people showing up at our door while we're trying to have a relaxing weekend, so it's not surprising when the next thing out of Husband's mouth was, "Do you have a licence?"
The woman said that she did and handed him one, but it was a contractor's licence. He wanted to see her peddler's licence, which he knew by this point she didn't have and wasn't really sure what he was talking about. He calmly informed her that in our town you need a special permit to peddle from door to door, to which she said the funniest words of the day: "I'm not peddling."
Personally, I'd like to know what she would call it if going door to door selling windows isn't peddling.
Regardless, Husband had made his point, and after saying no multiple times, it took explaining the law make her go away.
I've learned two things about my family members in the past few years. First, if you want a deal, you shop with Younger Sister. She knows how to double up coupons, talk the salespeople into selling the display model, and knows exactly where to go and when to get the best sales. But if you don't want to buy anything and frankly want those door-to-door salesmen to just go away, you hang around Husband.
The other day, someone that works for a window company came to our door. Husband answered and the woman started on her spiel about who she works for and what she does. At the end, Husband simply said, "No, thank you. Not interested." But instead of the woman just thanking him and walking away, she said, "Why?" Big mistake.
"Just not in the budget," Husband said. "Not interested."
"You're not interested in saving money?" she asked.
At this point, Husband was a bit annoyed. Now, understand, we love, love, love small businesses. What we don't love is people showing up at our door while we're trying to have a relaxing weekend, so it's not surprising when the next thing out of Husband's mouth was, "Do you have a licence?"
The woman said that she did and handed him one, but it was a contractor's licence. He wanted to see her peddler's licence, which he knew by this point she didn't have and wasn't really sure what he was talking about. He calmly informed her that in our town you need a special permit to peddle from door to door, to which she said the funniest words of the day: "I'm not peddling."
Personally, I'd like to know what she would call it if going door to door selling windows isn't peddling.
Regardless, Husband had made his point, and after saying no multiple times, it took explaining the law make her go away.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Holinsanity Part II
Part I here.
Holinsanity: noun. The particular type of insanity people, especially parents, get around the holidays.
Christmas Eve at the grocery store. It was a surprisingly smooth shopping trip all things considered. I expected there to be a bit more holinsanity than there was, but we've seen worse on other non-holiday related days (parking carts in the middle of aisles, rude people acting like everyone else is in their way and they should be first in everything...)
In short, everything was fine until we got to the check out line. I stood by the back of the cart with the kids, while Husband stood at the front and unloaded groceries onto the belt. There was a woman in front of us with just a couple of items. Husband took one of those plastic dividers and placed it behind her items, and then started putting ours on the other side of the divider.
OK, no problem so far.
I was staring off into space when I heard Husband say something that sounded both friendly and annoyed.
I looked up. He was smiling a big, warm smile at the woman and I was absolutely confused. The words didn't match the face. What just happened?
I drifted back into waiting mode. A few moments later, all of our items were on the belt, and I heard the woman say, "See, you got them all on after all."
Huh...
When we got out to the car, I asked Husband about what had happened between him and the woman in front of us. Apparently, she thought our items were too close to hers and repeatedly forced ours backwards to increase the distance and had only made the situation worse by making rude comments to Husband, thus the friendly-yet-annoyed comment.
I've been trying to figure out what would be the purpose in doing this repeatedly. Have yet to come up with a good answer.
Holinsanity: noun. The particular type of insanity people, especially parents, get around the holidays.
Christmas Eve at the grocery store. It was a surprisingly smooth shopping trip all things considered. I expected there to be a bit more holinsanity than there was, but we've seen worse on other non-holiday related days (parking carts in the middle of aisles, rude people acting like everyone else is in their way and they should be first in everything...)
In short, everything was fine until we got to the check out line. I stood by the back of the cart with the kids, while Husband stood at the front and unloaded groceries onto the belt. There was a woman in front of us with just a couple of items. Husband took one of those plastic dividers and placed it behind her items, and then started putting ours on the other side of the divider.
OK, no problem so far.
I was staring off into space when I heard Husband say something that sounded both friendly and annoyed.
I looked up. He was smiling a big, warm smile at the woman and I was absolutely confused. The words didn't match the face. What just happened?
I drifted back into waiting mode. A few moments later, all of our items were on the belt, and I heard the woman say, "See, you got them all on after all."
Huh...
When we got out to the car, I asked Husband about what had happened between him and the woman in front of us. Apparently, she thought our items were too close to hers and repeatedly forced ours backwards to increase the distance and had only made the situation worse by making rude comments to Husband, thus the friendly-yet-annoyed comment.
I've been trying to figure out what would be the purpose in doing this repeatedly. Have yet to come up with a good answer.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Ingrained Nonification
Ingrained Nonification: noun. A fact, set of numbers, or other very important item that is so ingrained in your head that you could recite it in your sleep, and yet very inexplicably and suddenly forget it.
Picture it. Target. The year: 2009, a mere three days before Christmas. I was having a lovely evening with the Boys and Husband. We went out to a very uncrowded but fantastic Asian restaurant that served both Chinese and Japanese food. I tried sushi, the raw kind, for the first time (I think). Viking Toddler and Philosopher Child pretty much ate a whole bowl of those fried noodle things. Lovely evening.
We popped off to Target afterwards because we needed a few things. We got our items, got in line, and while Husband was entertaining the Boys and generally just looking about about 3 feet away from me I swiped my card and punched in my pin.
Click. Something inside says I've just done something wrong. The machine asked me to put the pin in again.
Click. Something says that still wasn't right. It wasn't. The machine asked for my pin again. If machines could talk, it would probably say, "Please enter your pin again. The CORRECT one this time, if please."
Click. A third time. Pin still not right. I stood there, dumbfounded, and realized that I have no idea what my pin is. I have completely forgotten that little number that I've used without thinking hundreds of times.
Husband stepped in and swiped his card. Good thing he was there.
And I'm still not sure what my pin is.
Picture it. Target. The year: 2009, a mere three days before Christmas. I was having a lovely evening with the Boys and Husband. We went out to a very uncrowded but fantastic Asian restaurant that served both Chinese and Japanese food. I tried sushi, the raw kind, for the first time (I think). Viking Toddler and Philosopher Child pretty much ate a whole bowl of those fried noodle things. Lovely evening.
We popped off to Target afterwards because we needed a few things. We got our items, got in line, and while Husband was entertaining the Boys and generally just looking about about 3 feet away from me I swiped my card and punched in my pin.
Click. Something inside says I've just done something wrong. The machine asked me to put the pin in again.
Click. Something says that still wasn't right. It wasn't. The machine asked for my pin again. If machines could talk, it would probably say, "Please enter your pin again. The CORRECT one this time, if please."
Click. A third time. Pin still not right. I stood there, dumbfounded, and realized that I have no idea what my pin is. I have completely forgotten that little number that I've used without thinking hundreds of times.
Husband stepped in and swiped his card. Good thing he was there.
And I'm still not sure what my pin is.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Eclectic Christmas Tree
Eclectic Christmas Tree: noun. A Christmas tree on which the ornaments don't go together in any way.
I'm sitting here tonight looking at our unlit Christmas tree. In case you are wondering, it's unlit because the outlet is being used so that we can watch a movie. I'll plug it back in tomorrow. Two outlets on one wall, or even anywhere near each other, are unheard of at our house. But, as usual, I digress.
This brings me to my point. Who out there has a Christmas tree where the ornaments actually match each other? You know how you go in the department stores and you see the spectacular (and over-achieving) trees with ornaments that coordinate perfectly? Does your tree look like that? I don't mean you have a set of ornaments, I mean more like you only have that one set, or that set is balanced by another brilliantly matched set. Not judging, really. No, really, not judging. Just curious.
Me? Somehow I don't think the plush yellow duck that reads "baby's first Christmas" match the silver "unbreakable"* balls or the ceramic blue teardrop-shaped ornament. But that's my tree.
*Unbreakable, huh? We'll see about that. My kids don't back down from a challenge.
I'm sitting here tonight looking at our unlit Christmas tree. In case you are wondering, it's unlit because the outlet is being used so that we can watch a movie. I'll plug it back in tomorrow. Two outlets on one wall, or even anywhere near each other, are unheard of at our house. But, as usual, I digress.
This brings me to my point. Who out there has a Christmas tree where the ornaments actually match each other? You know how you go in the department stores and you see the spectacular (and over-achieving) trees with ornaments that coordinate perfectly? Does your tree look like that? I don't mean you have a set of ornaments, I mean more like you only have that one set, or that set is balanced by another brilliantly matched set. Not judging, really. No, really, not judging. Just curious.
Me? Somehow I don't think the plush yellow duck that reads "baby's first Christmas" match the silver "unbreakable"* balls or the ceramic blue teardrop-shaped ornament. But that's my tree.
*Unbreakable, huh? We'll see about that. My kids don't back down from a challenge.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Letter Drop Part IV
Letter Drop: verb. The act of mispronouncing a word by young children due to missing letters.
OK, this isn't quite a letter drop, but a letter add. But I'm feeling too lazy to make a new definition. Also too lazy to link back to parts I, II, and III. It's been a long day.
Anyway, Philosopher Child came up to me this evening and said, "Mommy, will you make some slushie?"
"I don't think I have the right things to make slushies," I said.
"Slushie is a type of food," he added.
"It's more of a drink."
"No," he said, "It's made from raw fish."
"...Not slushie. It's sushi."
Friday, December 4, 2009
Jaws TV
Jaws TV: noun. A show or number of shows that you only thought were safe for your kids to watch. How foolish.
Christmas time is nearing, is it not? It must be, since I'm constantly yelling at Viking Toddler to get away from the Christmas tree and continually setting our wooden nativity upright again after there have been small children near it. And, of course, musing about how much I hate our tree skirt. But that's a little thing in the grand scheme of life. At least we have a house to put a Christmas tree in, and that is truly a blessing.
But I digress. As usual. I'm told that I do that. "Meander" I think is a term that has been applied to my stories by loving family members. *Cough-Younger Sister-cough*
But again, I digress. Anyway, we've been watching A Christmas Story lately. You know, the one with Ralphie and all of the "You'll shoot your eye out," and "Only I didn't say fudge." A perfectly safe family movie. You can now imagine Jaws music.
I was standing in the kitchen when Viking Toddler ran up to me and start to hit my legs with closed fists. I was confused, but told him no hitting and sent him out. Generally, that's all it takes. He went off to play, and a short while later asked to watch A Christmas Story. No problem. I put it on for him, and then everything clicked. At the point when Ralphie is beating the tar out of the neighborhood bully, Viking Toddler again ran up to me and began hitting my lges (the only thing he can reach) with closed fists. Ah ha!
Now we utilize the fast-forward button. Liberally.
Christmas time is nearing, is it not? It must be, since I'm constantly yelling at Viking Toddler to get away from the Christmas tree and continually setting our wooden nativity upright again after there have been small children near it. And, of course, musing about how much I hate our tree skirt. But that's a little thing in the grand scheme of life. At least we have a house to put a Christmas tree in, and that is truly a blessing.
But I digress. As usual. I'm told that I do that. "Meander" I think is a term that has been applied to my stories by loving family members. *Cough-Younger Sister-cough*
But again, I digress. Anyway, we've been watching A Christmas Story lately. You know, the one with Ralphie and all of the "You'll shoot your eye out," and "Only I didn't say fudge." A perfectly safe family movie. You can now imagine Jaws music.
I was standing in the kitchen when Viking Toddler ran up to me and start to hit my legs with closed fists. I was confused, but told him no hitting and sent him out. Generally, that's all it takes. He went off to play, and a short while later asked to watch A Christmas Story. No problem. I put it on for him, and then everything clicked. At the point when Ralphie is beating the tar out of the neighborhood bully, Viking Toddler again ran up to me and began hitting my lges (the only thing he can reach) with closed fists. Ah ha!
Now we utilize the fast-forward button. Liberally.
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