My mom, who works at an elementary school, observed me singing The Alphabet Song to my son the other day, and told me I was singing it wrong.
"You can't be serious," I told her.
"Well, you have to put a pause in between L and M and N and O and P now," she replied.
Blank stare from me.
"We sing to the kids that way so they won't mistake 'LMNOP' as one letter. Oh, and don't say 'and' before the Z. Don't want him to think 'and' is a letter, too." Then she proceeded to sing the song with the weird pauses and it really sounded so odd that I had to turn up the radio and listen to something else entirely.
When did we have to start dumbing down the ABCs?!? What is happening? Do kids today really think "LMNOP" is one letter? I bet if I asked a thousand 30-somethings like me if they were ever confused by the ABC song they'd probably feel insulted that I asked the question.
Please tell me I am not alone in thinking this is just a little bit out there...
Monday, March 7, 2011
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Must love cats
You know when you first start dating someone, you really WANT to find out all kinds of good things about the other person. Of course there's some things you find you can overlook, and some things you find that you can not. And then you get married and it's all out the window anyway.
When I was dating my now-husband, Jim, I was very upfront with him: I told him I had a cat. Now, I knew he was not a cat person at all, but I left it up to him to decide if the cat would be the end-all, be-all of our relationship. He decided he could live with my beloved Mel, after all - how much trouble could one little kitty make for him?
The answer to that question is - in my hubby's world: A LOT.
My cat is the jealous type. It happens. Jim has been in my life for 7 years now and the cat and he still do not see eye-to-eye. When Jim moved in, the cat scratched up the underside of our bed and the couch cushions. She insists on sleeping between my ankles - on the bed. If Jim left a glass of milk on the counter for too long, Mel swooped in and finished it off. She also perched above his head one night while he was sleeping, and swiped at it repeatedly, leaving quite a mark (ouch). Even so, I begged Jim to not make me get rid of Mel. Believe me, that was not easy.
When we had our son Ryan and brought him home from the hospital, the cat went into some type of manic phase where she spent half her time sniffing and staring at the baby, and the other half peeing in his carseat and tearing up his favorite blankets. Jim's mantra the whole time was: "Oh, she is SO worth it!" And he told me if the cat EVER scratched/attacked the baby we'd get rid of her. I (sadly) agreed.
Now, Mel has done a complete 180 and is in love with Ryan - and Ryan is in love with her. He follows her around the house, shreaking with delight as she bounds through his toy piles, and not once does she scratch or attack him (I have to give her the fuzzy eyeball sometimes, though, as we've had some close calls.) But Jim is another story. Or at least that is what he claims. The other day I caught the two of them like this:
Now I'm not saying Jim is a crazy cat person (neither am I... seriously, I'm not. I do not collect hoards of cats nor have cat trinkets all over my house NOR sign all my letters with a cat stamp - now that's some crazy stuff.) - but I do think he secretly likes having her around, even if it's just so he has something to complain about. I even spied him feeding her once.
So in the end, the cat is staying. Sure, she throws up her breakfast once in awhile (Jim didn't even notice when she puked in his shoes... Or was that because I forgot to tell him? Anywhoooo...), still scratches the couch cushions (but those are replaceable!), and drinks from our milk glasses on occasion (someone forgot to put them in the dishwasher!) - but she's part of our family. Our kid enjoys her. And let's face it - she's still a lot cheaper than having a second child. (Not to say I'm opposed at all to having more children... but I'll save that for a later post.)
When I was dating my now-husband, Jim, I was very upfront with him: I told him I had a cat. Now, I knew he was not a cat person at all, but I left it up to him to decide if the cat would be the end-all, be-all of our relationship. He decided he could live with my beloved Mel, after all - how much trouble could one little kitty make for him?
The answer to that question is - in my hubby's world: A LOT.
My cat is the jealous type. It happens. Jim has been in my life for 7 years now and the cat and he still do not see eye-to-eye. When Jim moved in, the cat scratched up the underside of our bed and the couch cushions. She insists on sleeping between my ankles - on the bed. If Jim left a glass of milk on the counter for too long, Mel swooped in and finished it off. She also perched above his head one night while he was sleeping, and swiped at it repeatedly, leaving quite a mark (ouch). Even so, I begged Jim to not make me get rid of Mel. Believe me, that was not easy.
When we had our son Ryan and brought him home from the hospital, the cat went into some type of manic phase where she spent half her time sniffing and staring at the baby, and the other half peeing in his carseat and tearing up his favorite blankets. Jim's mantra the whole time was: "Oh, she is SO worth it!" And he told me if the cat EVER scratched/attacked the baby we'd get rid of her. I (sadly) agreed.
Now, Mel has done a complete 180 and is in love with Ryan - and Ryan is in love with her. He follows her around the house, shreaking with delight as she bounds through his toy piles, and not once does she scratch or attack him (I have to give her the fuzzy eyeball sometimes, though, as we've had some close calls.) But Jim is another story. Or at least that is what he claims. The other day I caught the two of them like this:
So in the end, the cat is staying. Sure, she throws up her breakfast once in awhile (Jim didn't even notice when she puked in his shoes... Or was that because I forgot to tell him? Anywhoooo...), still scratches the couch cushions (but those are replaceable!), and drinks from our milk glasses on occasion (someone forgot to put them in the dishwasher!) - but she's part of our family. Our kid enjoys her. And let's face it - she's still a lot cheaper than having a second child. (Not to say I'm opposed at all to having more children... but I'll save that for a later post.)
Saturday, February 26, 2011
What do you have against vegetables, kid?
Why does the word "vegetable" invoke fear and disgust in children? I mean, we all start out with the best intentions with our kids when it comes to food: When they're babies, we start them on all the pureed favorites: sweet potatoes, squash, smashed peas. And usually they react fairly positively. I swear, my son was thinking, "Oh, so there is more to life than the white liquidy stuff in that bottle." But then somehow their tastes change. As they grow, there's more good food to try and well - veggies don't taste quite as good as chocolate ice cream. And so starts the "if you eat your green beans THEN you can have the chocolate ice cream" battles. Fun times, no?
Now, my son Ryan won't eat vegetables at all. Short of standing on my head or force-feeding him with a large spatula, I have tried several ways to get him to eat them, even "hiding" them in other recipes, but to no avail. So tonight I thought I would try him on sweet potato fries. He loves French fries, so why not serve these? - I thought. Surely he will eat them up and not even think twice that they may be something other than... regular potato fries. He won't even notice that they are bright orange. Well, I thought wrong. He took one bite, looked at me with an arched eyebrow (I swear), and promptly spit it out onto the table. Damn kid is too smart. And stubborn. Pushed his plate away and said, "All done." Defeated... again.
(In this picture, he is only eating the strawberry garnish. What, you don't garnish your chicken fingers and sweet potato fries meals?)
My husband thinks Ryan will turn into some starved, sickly child because he will eat not only his veggies, but barely anything else. I tell him he'll eat when he's hungry, even if that means only on Tuesdays at 4 p.m. And whaddya gonna do? I read somewhere it's a parent's job to offer food - and it's the child's job to eat it. So I've done my job. Anyone out there have some really cool "get-any-kid-to-eat-veggies" trick? If so, share your thoughts in the Comments section below, pretty please. If you do, I'll give you some chocolate ice cream.
Now, my son Ryan won't eat vegetables at all. Short of standing on my head or force-feeding him with a large spatula, I have tried several ways to get him to eat them, even "hiding" them in other recipes, but to no avail. So tonight I thought I would try him on sweet potato fries. He loves French fries, so why not serve these? - I thought. Surely he will eat them up and not even think twice that they may be something other than... regular potato fries. He won't even notice that they are bright orange. Well, I thought wrong. He took one bite, looked at me with an arched eyebrow (I swear), and promptly spit it out onto the table. Damn kid is too smart. And stubborn. Pushed his plate away and said, "All done." Defeated... again.
My husband thinks Ryan will turn into some starved, sickly child because he will eat not only his veggies, but barely anything else. I tell him he'll eat when he's hungry, even if that means only on Tuesdays at 4 p.m. And whaddya gonna do? I read somewhere it's a parent's job to offer food - and it's the child's job to eat it. So I've done my job. Anyone out there have some really cool "get-any-kid-to-eat-veggies" trick? If so, share your thoughts in the Comments section below, pretty please. If you do, I'll give you some chocolate ice cream.
I have entered the blogosphere. Be afraid.
Let's start with some pleasantries: Welcome to my blog, "Because Life's Not Perfect." My name is Holly. I have a two-year-old son and a husband, although if I squint sometimes they could be one in the same (kidding). I also work full-time at a place that will remain nameless, but I do enjoy my job and getting out of the house every day. I titled my blog "Because Life's Not Perfect" because, well, it isn't. Hopefully you know that. If you don't, you probably don't want to read what I have to say because you may be horrified. But, among all the day-to-day drama, spilled sippy cups filled with apple juice, and other minor annoyances, life can be pretty darn funny. Or at least I have to find it funny or I'd be crying in my Cheerios every other day. And who wants soggy Cheerios?
I hope you will enjoy reading about my life and I hope you will leave a comment or two about how it relates to yours. So grab that bottle of wine you haven't finished (since last night), put in those earplugs ("Oh, sorry Honey. I didn't hear Johnny asking for his 17th cup of water tonight. Can you get it for him?"), and settle in. Cheers!
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